Freefall (8 page)

It wasn’t.

He saw something in her, a quiet pain that mirrored his own. He’d gotten drunk enough to quash the feeling that night, but it was still there. It was the reason he’d pursued her, and one of the reasons he’d enjoyed her so much. She responded like a woman who hadn’t indulged herself in a long, long time.

This morning, she’d melted in his arms once more.

Sam clenched his hands into fists, awash with memories of her pleasure. He didn’t want to want her. He didn’t want to know what had happened to her, or why she’d isolated herself in the Sierras. Using her for sex was out of the question, and he sure as hell couldn’t have a relationship with her. He was mentally unstable. Emotionally challenged. Given half a chance, he’d hurt her again.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“So am I.”

She shivered, examining the damp interior of the cave. Although her jacket was waterproof, she was soaked to the skin underneath it. When the storm let up, he might be able to get a fire going to warm her.

In the meantime, they’d have to use body heat. He unzipped his jacket, inviting her inside, and she stepped closer, sliding her arms around him. His muscles tightened in awareness of her breasts against his chest. She rested her head on his shoulder. He tugged the jacket around them and listened to the rain.

It was too late to head back to Kaweah. They were going to be in for a cold, wet night. Maybe he could stay awake and avoid another scene like this morning.

She shifted in his arms, pressing her cold nose to his throat. Although the sensation was far from erotic, it affected him on a gut level.

He grasped her shoulders with the intention of pushing her away. Then she glanced up at him and he got distracted. Her eyes were half-lidded, lashes wet. A fine sheen of moisture coated her skin. Her lips were dewy, petal-soft.

She looked...delicious.

If she’d let him touch her after the way he’d behaved, maybe
she
had a few screws loose. But he was dying for another taste of her. Being with Hope made him feel alive; kissing her was the only thing that made him feel
good.

So instead of putting distance between them, he brought her closer. She tilted her head back in blatant invitation. As he lowered his mouth to hers, he heard the unmistakable sound of pebbles scraping beneath booted feet.

They weren’t alone.

CHAPTER EIGHT

J
AVIER
DIDN
’
T
KNOW
what to do with Faith.

His decision to bail overboard and feign injury had been made in haste. He assumed that the authorities were looking for him. They might have been trying to contact Ron with a warning on his radio. Ron probably wouldn’t have been stupid enough to confront him, but nervous people did crazy things.

Javier’s larger concern was Gonzales. After seeing his boss’s helicopter, every instinct told him it was time to run.

What he hadn’t anticipated was Faith volunteering to hike with him. He would have preferred Caleb. The guy had proven himself to be less of a
puto
than he appeared, but Javier would’ve had no problem cracking his skull with a rock.

He couldn’t do that to Faith. He was reluctant to pull his gun and scare her off. She might get hurt or lost, alone in the wilderness.

Her sister, the park ranger, complicated matters. He wouldn’t shoot a woman by choice, but neither would he surrender without a fight. Being captured meant certain death, whether he was convicted here or deported to a Venezuelan prison. No one who betrayed Gonzales’s crew was safe behind bars.

Ahead of him, Faith paused to adjust her pack. They’d both changed into warmer clothes after the clouds rolled in. Her snug sweatpants had hearts on the back pockets. She was a hot little piece, but being sexy didn’t make her dumb. Sooner or later, she’d figure out that he was the man her sister had been tracking.

She was already tired, and they’d only gone five miles. She couldn’t hike for a damn. And she was wary of him. Since watching him pop his shoulder back in, she’d cut out all of the cutesy flirting and naughty innuendoes.

They were headed toward Moraine Lake, which was still his best bet for escape, but their progress was slow. His shoulder socket ached. He hadn’t dislocated it on purpose since he was a teenager. Right now he was feeling every one of his twenty-nine years.

The helicopter reappeared suddenly. They were walking through a canyon, close to the riverbed, so the sound of the approaching craft was muted. An open meadow stretched out before them, peaceful and deadly.

Javier almost didn’t have a chance to stop Faith from running headfirst into danger. He grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her the opposite direction, into the dense forest. Flattening her back against a tree, he trapped her there, pressing his forearm against her collarbone. Before she could speak, he crushed his hand over her mouth.

He didn’t expect her to cooperate, so the sharp teeth biting into his palm wasn’t a complete surprise. Ignoring the pain, he kept her as still as possible, his heart thumping a wild tattoo against hers.

As soon as the helicopter passed, he relaxed his grip.

“What the hell?” she spat.

He glanced at the crescent mark on his palm. No blood, but it would bruise. “You bite hard.”

“Why did you do that?”

“I thought you were going to wave the helicopter down.”

“I was, jackass. We need help.”

“No, we don’t. My shoulder doesn’t even hurt that much.”

“Great,” she said, shrugging out of the heavy backpack. “You can carry this.”

He accepted the challenge without complaint, moving the strap gingerly over his left arm. “Those guys might have been drug smugglers.”

She studied the empty meadow, a pulse fluttering in her throat.

“I’m sorry I grabbed you like that. I just...had a bad feeling about it.”

Her gaze returned to his, quiet and assessing. No, she wasn’t dumb. There was a hint of distrust in her eyes. As long as he continued to protect her, she’d probably stick by him. Her only other choice was to hike alone.

Even if she wanted to take off, he couldn’t let her wander through the woods by herself. Not when she could be intercepted by the enemy. Gonzales wasn’t just looking for the cargo at this point. They were searching for Javier, and they wouldn’t hesitate to hurt anyone with him. Gonzales’s men weren’t as chivalrous with women as Javier. They’d kill a female. They’d done it before.

Javier should have refused to let Faith tag along, but Ron had insisted, and he’d been in a hurry to get away from the rafting group. Now he was stuck with her out in the middle of nowhere.

The afternoon wore on. His wet shoes didn’t fit well, and his feet were still raw from his trek down the mountain. His shoulder throbbed dully with every step. Faith was behind him, instead of in front, so he couldn’t even enjoy the view.

When it began to rain, he kept trudging forward, aware that every mile they traveled brought her closer to safety. Before they reached Moraine Lake, he’d have to ditch her. If he left her too soon, she might get lost or run into trouble. As they continued through the deluge, a loud crack of thunder gave him pause.

Seconds later, the sky erupted with hail.

Faith cried out in distress, plastering her body against his. He took off the backpack and held it like a shield over their heads. They had to find shelter. Ron’s single-man tent wouldn’t protect them from the elements, and it might wash away if they set it up in the wrong place. Javier searched the area while she clung to him, shivering.

“There,” she said, pointing to a rock outcropping in the distance.

They ran toward it, ducking under the sloped edge. There was enough space to sit down, and it was relatively dry. Without a fire, however, they wouldn’t get warm, and twilight was fast approaching.

Faith hugged her knees to her chest, looking bedraggled.

“We should put up the tent,” he said.

She seemed relieved by the suggestion, probably because it meant they were done hiking for the day. He removed the tent from his pack, wincing in discomfort, and studied it. There wasn’t a label with directions.

“Let me,” she said.

He agreed easily, resting his injured arm. While he watched, she scattered the tent poles around and unfolded the tent, trying to make sense of it. He couldn’t offer any advice. Caleb and Ted had set theirs up last night with little assistance from him.

“This must go underneath,” she said, setting aside a rectangle of nylon. She cleared away some sharp rocks and laid it flat. Then she poked tent poles into various sleeves, twisting and maneuvering until she’d wrestled the thing into submission.

Sort of.

The structure sagged in the middle and looked ready to collapse. She lifted her chin, daring him to criticize.

“Good job,” he said, smiling.

She rolled her eyes. “Shut up.”

They had beef jerky and dried apricots for dinner. She finished her meal in sullen silence, tearing the tough strips with her teeth like a feral animal. Her hair had leaves in it and there was a smudge of dirt on her cheek. She was adorable.

The storm raged on and the temperature dropped considerably. They were both soaked. In the rain-washed hour before sundown, she began to tremble again. Her skin appeared pale and her lips took on a bluish tone.

“We need to get out of these wet clothes,” he said.

She didn’t argue when he stripped down to his boxer briefs. This time, her perusal of his body seemed detached. He climbed into the tent and under the sleeping bag. She joined him a moment later, trembling in her tiny bikini.

He tried to ignore her hard nipples poking against the fabric, and he didn’t even glance at the little triangle between her legs. Clearing his throat, he tucked the sleeping bag around them and pulled her close, stomach to stomach, skin on skin.

It was difficult to keep his thoughts pure with a beautiful, near-naked woman in his arms. Memories of the kiss they’d shared sprang to the forefront of his mind. He imagined plumbing the sweet, hot recesses of her mouth. His cold-shrunken package started to warm up and the inevitable unshrinking occurred.

She noticed his erection, of course. Her silky crotch was pressed right up against it. Unlike last night, she didn’t seem eager to hop on and go for a ride. She held still, not remarking on his condition. Her attitude toward him had changed since they’d been stranded. She wasn’t keen on “taking care of him” anymore, and he didn’t blame her. He also respected her for valuing her personal safety. He’d been with a few women who wanted him because they thought he was dangerous. It didn’t sit well with him.

She must have trusted him not to press his luck, because she stayed close. He doubted she was waiting for him to make the first move. She hadn’t been shy last night. Or sober, he reflected. A shot of whiskey wouldn’t be amiss. He didn’t want to get her drunk, but he’d like to put her at ease. “I wish I had Caleb’s flask.”

She lifted her head to look at him, a smile playing on her lips. “You would ply me with alcohol?”

“I’d love to ply you.”

Groaning, she pushed away from him and rolled onto her back. The few inches of distance between them didn’t ease his arousal. His hungry eyes wandered south.

Coño de la madre,
what a body.

“How old are you?” she asked.

He dragged his gaze back to her face. “I’ll be thirty next month,” he said, wondering if he’d live that long. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-six.”

“Perfect.”

“For what?”

Oops. He’d been staring at her breasts again.

“Why don’t you have a girlfriend?”

“No reason,” he said, evasive.

“Come on. I told you about my bad breakup.”

He sighed, stretching out on his back beside her. There was barely enough room for them to lie shoulder-to-shoulder. “Were you in love with him, this sports fan?”

“I think so,” she said, after a moment.

“And you couldn’t accept his hobby?”

“It was more of an obsession, but no. I couldn’t.”

“Why?”

“I need a lot of attention,” she admitted.

He glanced at her, surprised by the bald honesty. And the self-awareness. “The last woman I cared about left me for another man.”

Her brows rose. “Ouch.”

He’d never talked to anyone about his relationship with Alexia. It was a painful subject, and an awkward one in Gonzales’s circles. The boss’s closest confidants were aware that he’d stolen Javier’s girlfriend.

“She married him,” he said.

“Is she happy?”

“No. He has...mistreated her.”

She studied him carefully. “Do you still want her?”

He shook his head. Even if a reunion was possible, he wouldn’t choose it. His heart had turned cold on the day of the wedding, when she’d suggested that they continue their affair. “I’m not that forgiving.”

“You’re angry.”

He couldn’t deny it. He was furious with Gonzales for taking his bride, and with himself for being unable to prevent the abuse she’d suffered. Alexia had been superficial and ambitious, but she didn’t deserve to die. “I’m angry with him.”

“You were friends?”

“Yes.”

“Wow,” she said, clutching the sleeping bag to her chest. “Your breakup story is so much deeper than mine. Maybe my sister was right.”

He gave her a curious glance.

“Hope says I give up on relationships too easily. She thinks I’m ‘flighty.’”

“Are you?”

“Yes,” she said, with an impish shrug.

“I like that about you.”

“You would.”

“Did you tell your boyfriend you were unhappy?”

“Of course. One night I put on sexy lingerie and walked in front of the TV. He didn’t even notice.”

“Are you sure he was straight?”

She laughed, taking her hair out of the braids. It brushed her shoulders in damp waves. With her warm brown eyes and smoky lashes, she had a sultry look. Sweet, but not so innocent. She sat up and turned toward him, letting the sleeping bag drop to her waist.

He realized that his openness had put her at ease. Either that or she’d decided he was due for a pity fuck. Nibbling on her pouty lower lip, she trailed her gaze down his chest and over his clenched stomach. He sprouted a noticeable tent.

Seeming pleased by the sight, she lifted her arms to the nape of her neck, untying the bikini string. The top fell away, exposing her bare breasts. They were perky and round, with tight little nipples.

Javier almost swallowed his tongue.

* * *

H
OPE
WAITED
FOR
Sam to kiss her, breathless with anticipation.

She couldn’t seem to stop wanting him. Blind lust overrode her logic and emotions. He wasn’t good for her. He wasn’t good
to
her. Even so, she swayed toward him, begging for more of his bad medicine.

They both heard approaching footsteps at the same time. Sam jerked his head toward the other side of the cavern, where the noise was coming from. Hope grabbed her dry pack, her heart racing. There was a dark passageway directly behind them. She ducked into it, motioning for him to come with her.

He slipped into the hiding place. Following her lead, he flattened his back against the perforated cave wall, among the shadows. She removed her gun from the pack and held it with both hands, pointing down at the ground. Her eyes strained for movement as the sound of footsteps got louder.

Two men emerged from a tunnel into the main cavern. Judging by the lack of stealth, they didn’t know Hope and Sam were nearby.

She immediately assessed them as the drug smugglers. They didn’t fit the descriptions of Caleb Renfro and Ted Harvey, who were probably miles south, near Mist Falls. One was short and stocky, with dark trousers and a black leather jacket. The other was taller, in jeans and a rain poncho. He had a flashlight. Neither was a typical outdoor type. They’d probably arrived via helicopter rather than hiking in on foot.

Poncho turned off his flashlight and stashed it. Leather reached into his pocket for a pack of cigarettes. They walked right past the passageway where Hope and Sam were hiding, toward the mouth of the cave.

It was still raining heavily, a blessing in disguise. The sound must have washed out their voices.

Hope released a slow breath. Her pulse thundered in her ears and the acrid smell of smoke burned her nostrils. The smugglers were having a cigarette break, not venturing back out into the rain.