help.
He set his MP5 aside and touched the ground next to him.
She didn’t even hesitate. The cotton kanga cloth slithered from her body and she scooped it up, before sliding over to sit by him. She shook out the woven fabric in her hands, the rusty red and gold coloring blending into the landscape as they settled over her legs. Smart woman, always thinking.
Jose angled his head to hers. “Don’t let Harper Sutton see you with his…”
“Sutton Harper,” she corrected, nodding toward the snoring twenty-two-year-old.
“Right. Don’t let him see you playing with his stuff.”
“It’s not his. It was part of the stash at the compound.” She toyed with the fringe along the edges of the kanga that reminded him too much of their last weekend together when he’d bought a similar cloth for her. “But it would be a shame to waste its camouflaging potential.”
“True that.” He couldn’t avoid the question any longer. He had to ask, “You would tell me, right?”
She looked up sharply. “Tell you what?”
“If they hurt you back there. If you’re injured in ways that aren’t readily visible… Or if you were assaulted.” The last word brought more shards of glass up his throat.
She clasped his hand. “Jose, I would tell you. But I wasn’t assaulted. They had a very specific purpose in their questioning. I don’t know what they would have done to try and intimidate me, and I don’t know specifics on what they did to the others. But they believed me to be a low threat, so I was left for last. You got there in time.”
Thank God.
His head fell and his eyes squeezed shut tight with relief. She squeezed his hand hard again as more of that relief racked his body.
Once he trusted himself to speak again, he asked, “And what about other injuries? Noticing anything new now that the adrenaline’s gone?”
“I’m sore, and I’m exhausted. We weren’t fed well. But I’m telling the truth. None of the injuries are life threatening. Lying about that could only hold you back later.”
“We’re not out of the woods—so to speak.”
“As far as I’m concerned this is a serious improvement.” She laughed softly.
He touched her cheek. Just her cheek, nothing anywhere near as intimate as that impulsive hug earlier or the thousands of other caresses they’d exchanged. She eased away self-consciously and tugged at her hair band. Shaking her hair free, she threaded her fingers through and swept it back again.
His hands ached with the need to do that for her. His body throbbed with an even greater need to settle her in his lap and hold her through the night.
A crackle in the distance had him on his feet in a low crouch before he’d even fully registered the sound. His hand went to his gun. More of that muscle memory from training taking over, sending his body on autopilot.
Do whatever it took to keep Stella alive. Never had his pararescue motto been so blazingly in the forefront of his mind. These things we do, that others may live.
The fat moon sent light streaming through the branches. The tall grasses and scrub brush rustled… A cheetah darted past. Stella went steely still, the best reaction. A shot could bring worse than a jungle cat already disappearing from sight.
Exhaling hard, she shrugged. “My nerves are a little ragged.”
“You’re incredibly composed considering all you’ve been through.” He offered her the opening to share more if she needed, to speak at her own pace rather than him asking.
She leaned back against the tree, shoulder to shoulder with him. “I’d damn well better be able to keep myself together.”
“You’re not a machine.” And neither was he. It took all his self-control not to pull her onto his lap and rub her back until she slept in his arms. “You’ve held your own the past few days and tonight. Remind me never to piss you off.”
“You already did,” she said wryly, before looking away. “I wondered if I would ever see you again. I wanted
He set his MP5 aside and touched the ground next to him.
She didn’t even hesitate. The cotton kanga cloth slithered from her body and she scooped it up, before sliding over to sit by him. She shook out the woven fabric in her hands, the rusty red and gold coloring blending into the landscape as they settled over her legs. Smart woman, always thinking.
Jose angled his head to hers. “Don’t let Harper Sutton see you with his…”
“Sutton Harper,” she corrected, nodding toward the snoring twenty-two-year-old.
“Right. Don’t let him see you playing with his stuff.”
“It’s not his. It was part of the stash at the compound.” She toyed with the fringe along the edges of the kanga that reminded him too much of their last weekend together when he’d bought a similar cloth for her. “But it would be a shame to waste its camouflaging potential.”
“True that.” He couldn’t avoid the question any longer. He had to ask, “You would tell me, right?”
She looked up sharply. “Tell you what?”
“If they hurt you back there. If you’re injured in ways that aren’t readily visible… Or if you were assaulted.” The last word brought more shards of glass up his throat.
She clasped his hand. “Jose, I would tell you. But I wasn’t assaulted. They had a very specific purpose in their questioning. I don’t know what they would have done to try and intimidate me, and I don’t know specifics on what they did to the others. But they believed me to be a low threat, so I was left for last. You got there in time.”
Thank God.
His head fell and his eyes squeezed shut tight with relief. She squeezed his hand hard again as more of that relief racked his body.
Once he trusted himself to speak again, he asked, “And what about other injuries? Noticing anything new now that the adrenaline’s gone?”
“I’m sore, and I’m exhausted. We weren’t fed well. But I’m telling the truth. None of the injuries are life threatening. Lying about that could only hold you back later.”
“We’re not out of the woods—so to speak.”
“As far as I’m concerned this is a serious improvement.” She laughed softly.
He touched her cheek. Just her cheek, nothing anywhere near as intimate as that impulsive hug earlier or the thousands of other caresses they’d exchanged. She eased away self-consciously and tugged at her hair band. Shaking her hair free, she threaded her fingers through and swept it back again.
His hands ached with the need to do that for her. His body throbbed with an even greater need to settle her in his lap and hold her through the night.
A crackle in the distance had him on his feet in a low crouch before he’d even fully registered the sound. His hand went to his gun. More of that muscle memory from training taking over, sending his body on autopilot.
Do whatever it took to keep Stella alive. Never had his pararescue motto been so blazingly in the forefront of his mind. These things we do, that others may live.
The fat moon sent light streaming through the branches. The tall grasses and scrub brush rustled… A cheetah darted past. Stella went steely still, the best reaction. A shot could bring worse than a jungle cat already disappearing from sight.
Exhaling hard, she shrugged. “My nerves are a little ragged.”
“You’re incredibly composed considering all you’ve been through.” He offered her the opening to share more if she needed, to speak at her own pace rather than him asking.
She leaned back against the tree, shoulder to shoulder with him. “I’d damn well better be able to keep myself together.”
“You’re not a machine.” And neither was he. It took all his self-control not to pull her onto his lap and rub her back until she slept in his arms. “You’ve held your own the past few days and tonight. Remind me never to piss you off.”
“You already did,” she said wryly, before looking away. “I wondered if I would ever see you again. I wanted
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