CHAPTER 12 GABRIELLA
GAbrIELLA
She felt … better.
Not safe, but better in the way only sleep could manage.
It was as if her body had finally remembered how to exist without pain screaming through every nerve.
Whatever span of hours had passed, it had been enough to reset something inside her.
The sharp edge of panic had dulled. Her muscles still ached, but the tremor beneath her skin was gone.
And honestly? The orgasm had been mindblowing.
The rain had stopped while she slept, leaving the jungle steaming and alive. Everything dripped—leaves, vines, the tarp overhead shedding its last reluctant drops. Somewhere nearby, birds had started up again, tentative at first, then louder, as if testing whether the danger had truly passed.
Mateo had given her spare clothes. Lightweight cotton, dark and worn soft with use, the fabric whispering against her skin every time she moved. They smelled faintly of smoke and clean water and him, which annoyed her more than it should have.
Her shoes were another story.
She tipped them upside down, watching muddy water pour out in an embarrassing stream. They squelched when she set them back down, heavy and miserable.
Dressed in tactical gear, Mateo noticed immediately.
“What size are you?”
The question startled her enough that she looked up sharply. “Um—what?” Her brows knit. “Why?”
He didn’t look at her right away, too busy shaking rain droplets from the floor tarp before folding it with practiced efficiency. Everything he did was precise, economical. No wasted motion.
“I might have a spare set of boots from one of the men,” he said. “You can’t keep your feet wet.”
“And why not?” she shot back, sharper than necessary, fully aware she was poking the bear.
He didn’t react. Didn’t snap. Only glanced at her, assessing, then went back to folding.
“Trench foot. Infection. Fungus.” He paused long enough to add, “Open sores if you’re unlucky.”
She shivered despite herself.
“Dry feet are better,” he finished calmly.
“Fine,” she muttered. “I’m a size nine. But I have no idea what that is in men’s.”
The admission felt strangely intimate, which was ridiculous given the circumstances. She folded her arms, scowling at the ground. Play cool, play cool. I am stronger today than I was yesterday.
“I think we’ve got a spare pair from one of the younger recruits,” he said.
“Younger?” She wrinkled her nose. “That’s vile.”
That got a reaction. His hands stilled for half a second—barely noticeable unless someone was watching closely. Then he resumed packing, jaw tightening enough for her to see it.
“Some of these boys don’t have a choice,” he said evenly. “It’s this or starving. Or watching their families do it.”
The words landed heavier than she expected. Gabriella swallowed, the retort she’d been ready to fire dissolving in her throat.
“Oh. I’m sorry,” she replied back lamely.
“Don’t be. But,” he said raising a finger, “I do recommend being mindful of how you talk around the men. Some know English and may not take kindly to your words.”
She nodded, suddenly wishing the ground to swallow her whole. “Thanks for the warning.”
She watched him finish dismantling the fire, movements smooth and controlled as he hid their evidence. Well, he clearly knows how to survive out here, thinking back to his comment. She wondered if he was in this work because he didn’t have a choice either.
He took the dismantled camp over to the jeep and returned later with black military boots. “Here,” he said as he handed her them over. “See if these fit.”
She put them on and wiggled her toes.“They’re a little big,” she admitted reluctantly, shifting her weight as she tested the borrowed boots, “but they’ll do.”
Mateo nodded once, approval flickering across his face.
He crouched without asking, steady hands tightening the laces for her.
The simple act felt far too intimate. From this close, she saw the faint scar along his neck, the way the muscles in his shoulders rolled beneath his shirt as he worked. Wide. Solid. Built for endurance.
Devilishly attractive. Annoyingly so.
“Can you eat?” he asked, voice gentler than it had any right to be.
She dragged her eyes away from him, willing herself to breathe. “A whole horse, if you let me.”
That earned her a real laugh—low, surprised, and unguarded. It startled her more than the bug had last night. It felt normal, similar to when they would walk the beaches together. The memory sent an ache to her heart that squeezed, reminding her of their new dynamic: prisoner and warden.
“Sorry,” he said, standing. “Fresh out of livestock. But I can heat another MRE before I cover the fire.”
She pretended to contemplate. “I accept the offer.”
“Only this one? I could offer more. The tent is still up,” he teased and last night's memory burned between them. His fingers against her skin, their shared breathy moans, his lips on her neck. Her shoulder still stung where he had bitten her, the pain both sweet and unbearable.
God, she wanted to accept his offer, but things were complicated enough. “Just food, Mateo. If that's okay?”
“Always, Gabriella. I'll take care of you.”
He did. He handed her the food and waited while she ate, turning away just enough to give her the illusion of privacy while he finished breaking camp. When it was time to move again, Gabriella stood and automatically held out her hands for the rope when they approached the Jeep.
Mateo froze, then he shook his head. “No.”
He opened the jeep door and motioned her inside.
She stared at him, incredulous. “You don’t think I won’t—I don’t know—try to choke you? Or run? Or kill you in your sleep?”
One corner of his mouth lifted. The smile that followed sent a dangerous flutter straight through her chest.
“I would welcome it.” He leaned in closer. “Especially after last night.”
The sincerity in his voice made her breath hitch. She knew, with terrifying certainty, that he meant every word he had told her last night.
“I don’t need you to be nice to me,” she blurted, the words spilling out raw and defensive.
His brow arched and his roguish smile suggested he had an idea forming. “Prove it.”
“What?”
He stepped closer, lowering his voice until it was meant for her alone. “Prove you’re someone I don’t need to be nice to.”
Her pulse jumped as he leaned in, his breath warm near her ear.
“Be the bitch I know you can be.”
She stared at him, mouth open, caught between outrage and confusion. “What are you saying?”
His gaze dipped, just briefly, to her lips before lifting again. Dark with intent.
“The men are bored,” he said quietly. “And I am trying to protect you. I would be … deeply grateful if you could help me do that.”
“But that’s not my—”
“They don’t know that,” he cut in. His eyes flicked past her shoulder, towards the front where she knew José lingered. “Act up. Give me a reason to keep you glued to my side.” His voice dropped further. “I can’t stop nearly fifty men if they decide they want you, Gabriella.”
Her stomach dropped to her feet.
“So … pretend?” she whispered.
“Be angry. Be difficult. Be loud. Demand your needs similar to what you did last night.” His pupils dilated, his jaw tightening as if restraint cost him something real. “And I will stay right here.”
The jungle hummed around them, thick and heavy with danger.
So pretend to be difficult so that he can keep her by his side. She didn’t mind the notion. She actually preferred it. She swallowed, then nodded. “Okay.”
He leaned back. “You agreed to that quickly,” he commented.
A beat.
“Better to know the evil,” she muttered, “than pretend it doesn’t exist.”
That earned her a slow, approving look. “Indeed.”
She turned and climbed into the jeep, ignoring the nasty stare José shot her from the front seat. Settling in, she crossed her arms, lifted her chin and for the first time since the beach, chose the role that might keep her alive.
Right beside the devil she knew.