And God bless him, Jose seemed to understand. He didn’t say a word to stop her. He didn’t even look at her like she was nuts—the way Sutton was eyeing her as Bubbles disinfected cuts and assessed bruises. But then Jose knew her, he understood her, even if he didn’t want a future with her.
A month into her relationship with Jose, she’d confessed she loved him, that she’d fallen for him the first time she saw him and wanted to spend forever together. He’d said he felt the same—but she fast realized their ideas of settling down were vastly different. At first, she’d deluded herself into believing he simply wasn’t ready for the white picket fence and a couple of kids because he was two years younger than she was. She wanted to believe with time he would come around to her way of thinking. Building a family someday was everything to her.
Apparently he didn’t really feel the same, not in the ways that counted. Could he really expect to stay in this high-octane sort of rescue environment until the day he died? She couldn’t and she’d told him so.
Her daddy had always said not to make ultimatums unless you could live with either answer.
She scrubbed her wrist over her cheeks, swiping away grimy tears. “Sorry about that.”
“You’re okay,” Jose said simply, keeping that wall between them.
“Thanks to you I’m okay.” She wished there could be some kind of middle ground between them, a way to—what? Stay friends? That wasn’t possible and she knew it. Being around him reminded her of those lost dreams, and that simply hurt too much.
“Not just me.” He brushed aside her thanks. “We all worked together.”
Sutton snapped his fingers, leaning back against a fat tree trunk. “Uhm, hello? I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. Where I’m sitting we’re stuck out in the middle of nowhere so the rescue thing still feels iffy.”
Bubbles looked up from spreading out medical supplies to stitch a gash in Sutton’s arm. “Wanna go back?”
“You’re a comedian.” Sutton winced at the press of an antiseptic wipe.
“Not really,” Bubbles said.
“Then why the hell do they call you Bubbles?”
Jose tossed smaller branches and leaves along the tarp to add to the camo effect. “Ever heard of irony?”
Needing to put space between herself and Jose, Stella pushed to her feet and gathered Sutton’s gear Bubbles had haphazardly tossed aside during treatment. She folded his shirt sleeve that had been cut away to expose the torn flesh—a by-product of flying debris from the land mine explosion. Sure, the fabric was nothing more than a rag now, but nothing could be wasted, not as long as they were on the run. She hefted up Sutton’s backpack.
“Uhm, hello again?” Sutton started to lean forward only to stop short when Jose held him in place for stitching. “That’s mine.”
“Sorry, buddy, but we need to pool supplies.” She unzipped the bag—and found a pile of artifacts inside.
Had he been gathering tools as she had? She eyed a pottery shard, a hammered steel amulet. And a folded cotton kanga cloth, with the traditional script along the border. She smoothed her hand along the finely woven fabric, rubbing it like a talisman, as if she could somehow absorb whatever inspirational message had been traditionally included.
“Hey,” Sutton called out. “Can I have my bag?”
Jose looked up sharply. “Keep your voice down. Evading isn’t evading if you forget to whisper.”
Suspicions nipped at Stella as she thought of the student’s stash and his quick assessment of her earlier as a possible spy. Her fingers gripped the fabric for a final second before she set aside the backpack. She needed to help Jose set up camp so she could eat and sleep. Store strength in case their time waiting out in the wilds lasted longer than a few hours.
And as she stared at Jose, she couldn’t escape the notion they were both running away from the massive emotional fallout simmering just beneath the surface. That could be deadly for both of them, especially when they couldn’t be certain how long they would be stuck out here together. She would have to find time to talk to him tonight, later when the others were asleep, and clear the air once and for all.
***
Back pressed to the tree trunk, Jose sat watch while the others slept. He monitored his charges for the millionth time.
The student was curled up under the lean-to clutching his backpack. Bubbles dozed sitting up against the other side of the tree. No doubt, he could be fully awake, weapon drawn in a millisecond.
And Stella.
She curled at the front of the shelter, unofficially adding a layer of protection for the student. Once Sutton had drifted off, she’d slipped the rectangular kanga cloth out from under her shirt—the same embroidered cloth she’d found in the student’s pack earlier. She shook it out over herself, adding another layer of camo to her creamy skin. Her red ponytail splashed over her face, hairs lifting with each exhale.
Yeah, he’d volunteered to take the first shift.
He couldn’t have even catnapped anyway. His body was too hepped up from touching Stella again. The unplanned hug was one thing. But that moment when he’d stretched over her, protecting her even though it was clear she could protect herself… The texture of her hair over his hands and her familiar curves stirred him all over again.
Shit.
He rested his submachine gun on his knee, eyes scanning the landscape of trees and shadows. Night sounds echoed around them, birds and insects. An occasional growl of something wilder.
His gaze slid back to Stella—and he found her staring at him. Her green eyes glinted in the dark like a magnificent cat. He’d protected her as best he could today. Now he had one last role to fill, being certain, absolutely certain, she wasn’t hiding anything from him about her capture, hiding an injury, toughing things out rather than asking for 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 the chance to tell you… Well, doesn’t matter now.”
“What doesn’t matter?” he pressed. “We have all night.”
“It’s best we don’t go there, not now.” Her face closed up fast. “I had thought we could use this time to talk some things through, but I’m realizing this isn’t the time or the place to go into that after all. I just can’t afford to risk losing it. Not now. I have to focus everything on keeping myself together until we’re out of here.”
He pulled back, raising his hands. “Okay, okay.”
“I apologize,” she deflated. “I’m just on edge. I was really starting to lose hope back at the compound.”
He could see she was about to crumble now. She needed an outlet of some sort, comfort, but she wouldn’t want his comfort. So he opted for something she would accept. Humor.
“Sorry if we didn’t mobilize a major rescue operation quickly enough for you.”
A smile tugged the sides of her cracked lips. “I’m an ingrate, aren’t I?”
He passed her lip balm from his survival vest. “Olive branch?”
She touched her lips. “Are you saying I look like hell?”
“You look… alive.” That one word was everything.
Slowly, she took the lip balm from his hand and slicked it over her mouth. She put the cap back on with careful precision. “Alive is definitely a bonus today, one I wasn’t sure I would get.”
His eyes held on her mouth, the night and frenzy of what they’d been through gathering in his gut, making him thirsty for a taste of her.
He wanted to hold onto his sobriety coin right now so damn bad. “How did they capture you?”
Shadows chased through her green eyes, like clouds over the midnight moon. “I got careless.”
“I know you. You’re never careless. I’m the impulsive one.”
She shook her head. “It’s my fault two people died. I should have done something.”
