Breaking Point (24 page)

He slid a hand beneath the waistband of her BDUs, popped the button with this thumb, and found his way inside her panties. He took time to stroke her smooth outer lips and to tease and tug on the delicate inner ones. Then, gathering her own wetness, he stroked her clitoris, felt it begin to swell. It was amazing to think that something so small could be so sensitive. One flick, and her hips jerked. Another, and she whimpered.

He lavished the little nub with attention until it was taut and her breathing was ragged. Then he slid first one, then two fingers deep inside her, the hot, wet feel of her sending a jagged bolt of need through him. But this was for her, not for him.

He stroked her deeply, taking care to catch her clitoris with each stroke, watching the rapture on her face as the tension inside her peaked—and broke. He kept up the rhythm, her vagina contracting in tight spasms around his fingers, her nails digging sharply into the skin of his forearm. Then slowly her grip relaxed, the quaking inside her fading to a soft pulse, his fingers drenched with the honey of her orgasm.

He withdrew his fingers, ran them along her lower lip, planning to taste her with his next kiss. But she caught his hand, drew his fingers into her mouth, and sucked them, her tongue swirling over them in a way that made his cock instantly hard.

Holy shit.

Okay, he hadn’t been expecting that—but damned if it wasn’t sexy as hell.

He leaned over her, taking what he could of her taste from her lips, delving into her mouth with his tongue, vowing to himself to take her with his mouth before this was all over and she was gone.

For a while—he had no idea how long—they kissed.

Then slowly, sinuously, she sat up, planted a hand in the middle of his chest—and pushed him onto his back. She surprised him again by straddling him. And what a sight she was, half-military, half-nymph. Her long hair spilled in tangles over her shoulders, dusky nipples peeking through the strands, her skin slick with sweat, the camo of her unzipped BDUs a striking contrast to her femininity.

“I love this muscle.” She slid her hands along his obliques, making his belly jerk. “You’re a beautiful man, Zach Black.”

No one had ever said that to him before.

She leaned over and began to taste her way down his body, kissing his lips, his throat, his pecs, until she was running her tongue along his obliques just above his waistband. Without a word, she unzipped him, reached inside his boxer briefs to free his erection—and kissed the head of his cock.

Zach’s entire body jerked.

She looked up at him, a hint of uncertainty in her eyes. “I’m probably not very good at this, but I want to taste you.”

The idea of his erection in her mouth shorted out his brain.

“Okay,” he said, stupidly.

Okay? Holy hell, McBride, you stupid idiot!

It was more than okay.

It was a fantasy come true wrapped in a wet dream.

She licked him, then took him into her mouth, her hand and lips working in tandem as she built up a rhythm, her tongue swirling around the aching, engorged head, catching him right where he was most sensitive.

Not very good at this? Where in the hell had she gotten that idea?

“Oh, angel. God, yeah!” He muttered something incoherent, caught her hair, and held it aside so that he could watch, the sight of her devouring him nearly sending him over the edge.

He fought to hold his hips still, but she seemed to understand what he needed, going faster, increasing the pressure, until his body shook, his groin throbbing, the ache almost unbearable. Then his balls drew tight and . . .

He lifted Natalie’s head out of the way, orgasm hitting like a bolt of lighting, sheering through him as she finished him with her fist, hot ejaculate shooting from deep inside him and landing in pools on his belly.

And for a moment he couldn’t move, his body floating.

Then he felt her snuggle up beside him, her fingers tracing designs through the rapidly cooling semen. He opened his eyes, watched her amuse herself. Then he reached down, caught her wrist, and in imitation of what she’d done, sucked her fingers into his mouth, tasting himself.

He gave it a moment, then met her gaze. “You taste better.”

 

THEY EACH ATE an MRE after that, feeding each other tasteless bites of so-called food by hand. Then, still topless, Natalie curled up beside him, and they drifted off to sleep again. But by late afternoon it was so hot that no matter how many times Zach wet her down with the bandana, she couldn’t sleep.

“Maybe we should just start walking again.” She lay with her head on his outstretched leg, one of his big hands splayed on her bare belly, the casual intimacy of being physically close to him like this filling her with a kind of contentment she hadn’t known for years.

Zach shook his head, pointing to the gallon of water he’d kept on hand. “We’ve gone through half a gallon today. If we’d been walking in this heat, we’d have consumed much more than that. We need to wait until dusk.”

She must have let some of what she was feeling show on her face because in the next instant he tried to encourage her.

He stroked her hair. “I know it’s hard. Just rest.”

She let her gaze travel over the scenery. There were dry hills and mountains all around them, one of them much taller than the others. But, beyond empty water jugs, food containers, and other trash, there was no sign of human habitation. No fences. No buildings. Not so much as an outhouse. It seemed still, desolate, empty. And yet it wasn’t empty at all. It was full of wildlife—not to mention people. And once the sun set, they would all come out of hiding.

Last night’s close encounter with the drug traffickers seemed far away in the blazing light of the sun. But it had been real, and it might have turned deadly if not for Zach. And though she supposed she ought to be afraid—they still had two or three more nights out here—she wasn’t. She might not know his real name, and she might not know what kind of trouble he was in, but she knew without a shred of doubt that he would do everything he could to protect her. She just hoped she wouldn’t be too much of a burden.

“Where exactly are we? Texas? Arizona? The Sahara?”

“Arizona.” He pointed. “Do you see that mountain? That’s Baboquivari Peak. It’s sacred to the Tohono O’Odham people. Right now we’re in the southeast corner of the Tohono O’Odham reservation.”

And it clicked.

She sat up, faced him. “That’s what you told Kat, isn’t it? Your secret message, all that gibberish. It was about this place.”

He nodded, his lips curving in a lopsided grin. “More or less. I told her we were leaving Altar and that we were going to cross the border onto Tohono O’Odham land. I also hinted that she get in touch with the reservation’s answer to the drug cartels.”

“What would that be?”

“The Shadow Wolves.”

NATALIE FELT SORE but well rested by the time they set off again, the sun setting behind a thick bank of pink and orange clouds to the sound of yowling coyotes. As she’d done last night, she followed behind Zach, watching where he stepped and doing her best not to get hurt, but her thoughts were still on their conversation from earlier.

Had Kat figured out the message? And if she had, were these Shadow Wolves out here trying to find her?

At first, the idea had filled her with a sense of relief to think that this nightmare would soon be over and she would be home again. And then . . .

Then Zach would return to the life that had almost gotten him killed. She would go back to the newspaper and the existence she’d known before she’d met him. And everything would be fine.

Except that nothing would be fine at all. Zach would be in danger, not only from the Zetas, but possibly also from law enforcement. And she . . .

She would miss him.

After six long years, she’d finally begun to feel again, and he was the reason why. It wasn’t just the situation. It was
him
. It was Zach. She didn’t understand it, couldn’t explain it, but it was true. The idea of him walking out of her life made the bottom drop out of her heart. She couldn’t go back to the way she’d been before—darker, emptier, and more parched inside than this desert.

That’s up to you, isn’t it, girl?

She supposed it was. She’d made herself a promise to live again, and she needed to keep that promise, no matter who was in her life.

And what will happen to Zach?

Would the two of them be processed like others who’d crossed the border illegally? Would they be detained, fingerprinted, questioned? How would they prove who they were without ID?

One thing was certain: If they were fingerprinted, and Zach had a criminal record, he would be arrested. She didn’t want that to happen.

“What will these Shadow Wolves do with us when they find us?”

Ahead of her, Zach came to an abrupt halt. For a moment, she thought he’d stopped because he was irritated with her for asking a question. Then he crouched down, motioning for her to do the same, pistol in hand. She did, her pulse rocketing. It was in that same moment that she noticed it—an indescribably awful stench.

Zach seemed to be looking toward a stand of mesquite that stood off to their right. Her gaze followed his, and though she didn’t have night vision goggles, she was just able to make it out—the shapes of human bodies strewn across the ground. “All dead.”

Natalie was on her feet, hand covering her mouth, her stomach revolting at the sight, the smell, the shock of it.

Then Zach was there beside her. “Breathe! Don’t you dare get sick. You’ll get dehydrated.”

He took her gloved hand with his and drew her along behind him, until the horrible odor had dissipated. Then he turned to her and wrapped his arms around her, tucking her head beneath his chin. “Sorry. I smelled them before I saw them. They were hidden by the mesquite.”

“Wh-what happened to them?”

“Don’t know. Couldn’t tell.” He held her tighter. “Whatever it was, it’s not going to happen to you.”

 

JOAQUIN SIPPED HIS coffee wanting this damned meeting to end. It was already ten o’clock and hotter than hell outside. If Natalie was out there somewhere . . .

“So you think they’ve crossed onto our land?” Ned Zepeda, commander of the Shadow Wolves, looked across the table at Marc and Kat, who sat close to Gabe holding their baby on her lap.

Kat had insisted on coming along, certain that she, as a Navajo, could help. Gabe had refused to let her go without him, and Marc had welcomed his company. As an extreme climber and skier, as well as a paramedic and a former park ranger, he was not only experienced with the outdoors, but also good with a gun and handy when it came to first aid. And he had balls of solid rock, having sacrificed his left leg to save Kat’s life. No one watching him would suspect he wore a prosthesis.

“Yes, sir, we do.” Kat handed Commander Zepeda a copy of the transcribed code-talk message. “We were hoping you might be able to help us find her.”

Zepeda studied it, his brow furrowing. His face was weathered by the sun, deep lines etched into his cheeks, making Joaquin wish he’d brought his camera inside. But that’s not why they were here.

“Rossiter and I are both trained law enforcement, so we can handle ourselves.” Marc pointed to Joaquin with a jerk of his head. “Ramirez is a photojournalist. He was with Ms. Benoit when she was taken. We’d like to ride along, or if you can’t mount a rescue effort today, we’d like permission to rent or borrow a vehicle and head out on your land ourselves.”

Still looking at the transcript, Zepeda shouted toward the hallway. “Eh, Chiago, get in here. You’re going to want to see this.”

Another officer—a tall son of a gun—walked into the room. Well over six feet, he looked like he was in his thirties. Dressed in a green military-style uniform, a pistol holstered on his hip, he looked at them through dark eyes that had seen their share of action. His dark hair was cropped short, his hard gaze moving over everyone in the room as if sizing them up, then softening when he looked at Kat and Alissa. “Yeah, Chief?”

Commander Zepeda repeated the story that Kat and Marc had just told him, then handed the transcript to Chiago. “Got any thoughts on this?”

Chiago frowned, read through it, then looked up at them. “I’ll take you out. We’ll get a team together. It’s a big reservation, but we’ll see if we can find her. But tell me again about this man you heard whispering in the background. Did you bring a file of that recording with you?”

CHAPTER 18

NATALIE WAS STILL dreaming when the first fat raindrop hit her cheek. That raindrop was followed by another—and a kiss on her forehead.

Zach ran his knuckles over her cheek. “Wake up, angel. We need to get out of here—and fast.”

She opened her eyes, felt herself being hauled to her feet. She blinked, looked around, still groggy and confused. “Is it raining?”