Chapter 6
Chapter Six
That’s right, sunshine. I know you have a little birthmark on the inside of your thigh…
Which is why my cock is twitching with the urge to follow through on the dangerous conversation about brute force and sloppy enthusiasm.
Some dark part of me wants to make the doe-eyed, sensible, smart archeologist lose her fucking mind. Something I’m fully capable of doing, even if it would be the worst goddamned idea ever.
The way her lashes flutter and widen now makes it so much worse.
That innocence calls to a darker thread, tugging it until I’m a throbbing heartbeat away from unravelling.
I want to own her gasping breath, make her eyes widen when she shatters. Just for fucking fun. For being so goddamned sexy and not even knowing she is.
Shaking my head, I scrub my calloused palm over my mouth, willing the saliva stirring around my tongue to back the fuck up.
Women like Allison don’t want to fuck and forget. And that’s all I got—all this muscle, sinew and testosterone are good for.
The rest of me is a wasteland.
Or I was, but watching her process her shock, her embarrassment is like a deep breath to the animal inside me. Feeding me like a ray of sun to a dead, crusty soul made of ash.
Stumbling backward, making another startled sound, Allison shuffles until her pale, bare thighs hit the bed, she stares at me wide-eyed, licking nervously at her bottom lip.
“Oh, my god. You undressed me.”
No use trying to look apologetic. Especially because I am not sorry.
“You needed to get dry. Had to check for other wounds I might have missed.”
She gulps audibly.
After a very long time of her blinking, staring into space, she roughly whispers, “Thanks. I think…”
“You’re welcome.”
Disbelief morphs in front of my eyes, replaced by a tight frown that puts a divot between her delicate brows. “It’s your fault I was in the river.”
I’m feeling testy, so I don’t bother holding back. Not that I ever do. “Rather take a bullet back there?”
“No. I mean, I don’t know. You almost got me killed.”
“Well, I know. We were being surrounded. My only job is to protect you and keep you safe. And back there, that meant getting you the hell out of there.”
Tight words fire at me across the small boat. “You could have at least given me a warning before you jerked me off of a twenty-foot-high cliff.”
“Would you have gone?”
She blinks and considers. That intelligent mind whirring. “Maybe?”
“See, that’s why I didn’t ask.”
Tugging at a strand of her hair, she looks around, defeat washing over her features. “What’s happening in my life right now? I thought things were bad… now it’s completely nuts.”
I lean against the wooden pole, trying to ground myself in the midst of the mess we’re both in. The decision to go off that cliff with her was easy. Now things are skidding toward train-wreck zone at warp speed.
With a grumble, I look away. “I’m asking myself the same fucking thing.”
“Where is your team?”
I don’t answer. Instead, I look at her again, taking in the details now that she’s dry, unlike earlier when she was limp, half-drowned, and vulnerable in my arms.
There’s something different now. A different kind of raw and unguarded energy about her now—something that shouldn’t make me feel this goddamn torn.
She’s a client’s daughter.
The woman I’m supposed to protect, but what am I doing?
A thousand emotions churn inside me, too fast to pin down.
“You look different now that you’re dry.”
As if put out by my remark, her brows knit more tightly together. “Yes, I do. So do you.”
But then the shine in her eyes shifts from angry to scared. It happens fast. And leaves her looking at me like I’m some kind of monster.
Damn.
Her arrowed gaze hits its mark.
Maybe I am.
A soft voice breaks through my thoughts, shaky but determined. “Take me back to Karma.”
“Nope.”
The word hangs heavy in the air.
She flinches, but I don’t let up.
“Not gonna happen.” I edge my voice with seriousness.
Her face flushes toward red, heat rising to her cheeks in the wake of new anger at my announcement. Each second her awareness that something is wrong is growing. “Why are we on a boat?”
“Because one presented itself at the right time.”
For a few seconds, the cogs turn behind her pupils. Then realization hits, and her jaw drops. “You stole this boat?”
Now, why would she automatically jump to that?
Clearly, I made a really good impression. But at least it’s an accurate one.
I shrug, shifting my weight, wondering how this conversation is going to play out, yet knowing she's not going to win. “We needed transportation.”
“Morally gray, anyone?” Her tone drips with sarcasm.
Pushing my hand in my pocket, I almost shrug even though there’s a sting after her words. “You’d have to have morals for them to be gray.”
I used to be moral.
Now I’m…
Fuck.
I just don’t give a fuck. All my fucks died when Hope did.
Neither of us says anything for a beat, but a noise interrupts our disparate inner dialogs—a mechanical hum in the distance—that snaps my attention to the river.
“ Shit . A boat.” I lunge for her. “Get down.”
Before Ally—yes, that’s what my mind has now nicknamed her—can move, I’m gripping her shoulder, pushing her down behind the boat’s console, onto her knees, hemming her into the small space with my wide-spread thighs.
No one will be able to see her. But fuck if I don’t feel her.
Warm breath fills the space in front of me, coasting over my already growing erection.
I hope that this isn’t some cheap knockoff zipper on my pants because it’s getting real inside my boxers.
I fight to inhale. Force an exhale.
Down, boy. Down.
“Truck.” Her hands land on my thighs. “Who is it?”
My gaze drops to her.
I have to unwire my jaw after dragging in a few more unsteady breaths that feel more like a fire-breathing act. “Shhh. Quiet.”
Trying to seem casual, I grab onto one of the pieces of colorful fabric that was lying on the bench when I…um… borrowed the boat. Tugging up my pants legs above my calves, I lash it around my hips, covering my cargos in a kind of skirt like the local men sometimes wear.
My boots are lying next to the bed, so I don’t have to worry about that wardrobe faux-pas.
But even with that extra layer of fabric, Ally’s too close to my over-sensitized groin.
Sweet hell .
I stifle a rumbling groan.
She’s eye level with my cock, her pink lips damp from her licking them nervously. It’s her habit, and I fucking love the way they glisten in the light.
This isn’t a stolen boat, it’s a one-way ticket to purgatory.
I force my eyes away, but they boomerang back.
Shiiiiit.
And this time, she’s looking right at my throbbing erection, an angry knot between her eyebrows.
Breath sputters out of her. “You jerk. I just realized you just wanted me to have to stare at your crotch.”
“It was sort of accidental.” I keep my mouth mostly closed in case anyone on the approaching boat is watching with binoculars.
This isn’t going to work.
I’m going to be bent over in pain any second. Anyone who takes a close look at me is going to think I’m about to rupture something.
Any man with half his wits about him will know it’s a nut.
“Stay quiet,” I growl at her… at myself. At my fucking racing thoughts.
The engine on the other boat grows louder as it chugs upriver toward us. The sound pulses in my ears, making the blood that is dropping to my cock turn to ice.
The last thing we need right now is a run-in with rebels. Or worse—someone hunting her.
Dread builds inside my chest like a black vine spreading to all the corners as two men come into view.
One is on the bow of the small boat, wearing a fitted black polo and a black baseball cap. The other man at the helm is in dark sunglasses and tight black T-shirt. Both have on gray tactical pants. Definitely not dressed like locals.
Keep going . Nothing to see here.
That’s right. Just keep right on going.
But they don’t listen to my silent demands, the boat turns toward us.
Goddammit.
“Stay down, don’t make a sound,” I say through tight lips. “They’re coming over this way.”
I reach down and slip my bowie knife free from the sheath at my calf and press it into Allison’s hand. “Stay low. Keep that hidden, use it if you have to.”
“Oh. Crap,” she whispers. “I don’t know how…”
“Point the sharp end at them.”
I start our boat’s engine and put it into gear in case I need to maneuver. We were drifting on the river’s current before, but now I want power on our side.
One of the men—the one at the bow—raises a hand as he slides on a pair of sunglasses. “Hola!”
Tipping my chin, I hold the course with one hand on the wheel, with the other, I snatch down the clothing hanging on the line. Women’s clothing.
“Buenos Dias.” Thank god for being raised bilingual.
But they’re curious, their stares are hot along my skin through their dark lenses.
My unease is crackling now. A storm building in my muscles. A slowness spreading through my brain.
This is how combat is for me.
“Que pasa?” I ask
“You speak English?” the man on the bow asks.
“Yeah.”
As soon as the word is out of my mouth, I know I’ve made a tactical error.
“Good,” the boat captain says with an oily grin. “We’re looking for a man and a woman.”