Soldier Under Siege Read online

  “You don’t have—”

  But she wasn’t listening. She’d already unbuttoned his pants and reached inside.

  Tate’s head lolled to the side as she tormented him with her hand. When he could barely support his own weight, he rolled onto his back. The raindrops felt like little needles as they fell into his face, but he barely noticed the downpour. With Eva curled up at his side, her hand wrapped around his shaft as she pumped him in fast, sensual strokes, the rain was the last thing on his mind.

  “Oh, sweetheart, I’m close,” he rasped.

  She increased her speed, tightened her suction, and within seconds, he lost himself in a mind-shattering release that made him gasp for air. When he regained his faculties, he found Eva watching him with a satisfied gleam in her blue eyes.

  “Do you forgive me for pushing you down in the mud?” she teased.

  It took him a moment to find his voice. “I forgive you.”

  “Good.” She bent her head to plant a kiss on his lips, then carefully got to her feet.

  Tate watched as she tipped her head up to the sky and let the rain wash the brown streaks from her face. In fact, within seconds, her face and bare legs were totally clean, but her white shirt was beyond saving.

  His heart rate had just steadied after that explosive climax, but it quickly sped right back up when Eva began unbuttoning her shirt. She peeled it off her slender shoulders, and then she was gloriously naked save for her bikini panties. Her gorgeous, golden limbs assaulted his vision and made his mouth go dry. Everything about her reignited his arousal—her bare breasts, round and full, the raindrops clinging to her pebbled nipples and sluicing over her flat belly, the sexy curve of her buttocks.

  His gaze landed on the dirty bandage covering her upper arm, and he stumbled to his feet with a frown. “We need to change your dressing,” he said firmly. “And you should take another antibiotics shot.”

  “Later,” she answered, and then she continued to wash up, running her hands over her breasts and belly.

  Trying to ignore the sexy sight, he followed her lead and let the rain wash him clean. The faster he got this mud off him, the faster he could be back in the cave with Eva, making use of that last condom in his pack.

  She must have read his mind, because she shot him a broad smile. “You’re totally going to have your way with me, aren’t you?”

  He responded with a rogue smirk. “You complaining?”

  “No.” She donned a thoughtful pose. “But you’ve got to do one thing for me before I give you free rein of my body.”

  “Yeah, and what’s that?”

  “Admit you like me.”

  His jaw tensed, just for a second, but he quickly forced it to relax. The playful look in Eva’s eyes told him she wasn’t making demands of him, but he knew there was a lot more to that lighthearted request.

  He was perfectly aware that he hadn’t given her any indication of what he felt for her. She must know he was wildly attracted to her—fat chance of him hiding that—but in terms of where his head was at? His heart? He understood her need to figure that out, and he didn’t blame her; he’d learned a long time ago that the women in your bed sometimes needed a little reassurance.

  So he opened his mouth and told her what she wanted to hear.

  “I like you.” He shrugged awkwardly. “I like you a helluva lot, Eva.”

  Except then something strange happened, something that almost made him topple right back into the mud.

  He realized that he’d meant every damn word.

  Chapter 14

  “Okay, so what’s the plan?” Eva asked the next morning.

  Tate’s green-eyed gaze swept over the piece of paper he’d spread out on the boulder near the cave. The rain had ceased right after dawn, almost as quickly as it had started, and Eva was still having trouble adjusting to the blinding sunlight beating down on her head. Although some parts of the area were still wet and muddy, most of the earth had dried up, leaving streaks of brown clay on the soles of their boots.

  She and Tate had eaten breakfast outside, both of them needing the fresh air after being cooped up in the cave for forty-eight hours, and now Tate was all business as he examined the drawing she’d made of Hector’s bunker. She’d included every detail she could remember, which Tate seemed to appreciate, but she still had no idea how the two of them would manage to sneak in and out without being shot on sight.

  “Ben and I came up with something before, but...” Tate drifted off, his expression strained.

  Knowing how difficult it was for him to talk about his friend, she reached out and took his hand, squeezing it gently. “What did you come up with?”

  “He would provide a distraction while I went in from the tunnel over here.” He pointed to the exit she’d labeled on her map, the one located in the foothills that the bunker’s tunnel led out to.

  “Okay. What kind of distraction?”

  “A full-on assault. Rig the area over here—” he pointed again “—with explosives, and take out the entrance with an RPG.”

  Her eyebrows flew north. “A rocket launcher? You’ve got one of those?”

  Tate’s mouth quirked. “That was one of the supplies Ben went to get.”

  “Oh. Okay. So what was supposed to happen after he took out the entrance?”

  “The camp would be in chaos. All the guards would be drawn to the explosion. They’d try to make sense of the commotion, Cruz would most likely send a team out to investigate. Ben would’ve strategically detonated explosives and lured any rebels away from the camp, while I went in from the foothills, took out Hector and snuck back out.”

  “Wow. All right. Well.” She pursed her lips. “Why can’t I be the one in charge of the distraction? I’m sure I could handle a rocket launcher without screwing it up too badly. It’s just point and shoot, right?”

  His expression hardened. “No way.”

  “I can do it,” she insisted. “I’ll hide out in the trees over here—” she jammed a finger at the map “—and when you give me the go-ahead, I’ll take out the entrance. And I can work a remote detonator. When the rebels come out to investigate, I’ll make them all go boom.”

  He didn’t look the slightest bit amused by her attempt at humor. “No. Way.”

  His tone invited absolutely no argument, and it elicited a burst of irritation.

  “I won’t screw it up,” she muttered. “And I take direction really well. All you have to do is tell me how to—” She stopped abruptly as it dawned on her. “It’s not that you think I can’t handle it, is it? You don’t trust me to do it. You think I’ll screw you over or something.”

  Pain squeezed her throat, but really, why did that surprise her? Tate had made it clear from day one that he didn’t trust her, and their sleeping together didn’t change that. Heck, that was another thing he’d made clear—sex and trust were one hundred percent mutually exclusive.

  Yet his lack of faith brought a dull ache to her heart. She might have lied to him about her relationship with Hector, but she hadn’t lied about anything else. Her life story, her love for her son, her thoughts and fears and hopes. There had been nothing false about any of that, and it troubled her how willingly she’d confided in Tate about those things.

  She wasn’t supposed to let another man in. After her disastrous and reckless involvement with Hector, she’d promised herself to be warier around men. Not to give her trust so easily, and yet here she was, putting all her faith in another soldier. Another ruthless alpha male who didn’t care about her at all.

  “Forget it,” she mumbled when he didn’t respond. She averted her eyes, pretending to study the map. “If you don’t trust me to be part of this mission, then fine. We’ll do it your way.”

  Her peripheral vision caught a flash of movement, and she jumped when Tate’s rough hand gripped her jaw. His touch was surprisingly tender, his gaze even more so as he forced eye contact.

  “That’s not it,” he said gruffly.

  She swa
llowed. “What are you talking about?”

  “I won’t let you play Rambo and blow things up, and that’s not because I think you’re going to screw me over.” A strangled breath flew out of his mouth. “It’s because it’s too damn dangerous and I refuse to let you get hurt.”

  Astonishment rippled through her. “What?”

  “Once things go to hell, all those rebels will be running out to find the source of the chaos. They’ll be pissed off and trigger-happy and gunning for the person who had the nerve to blow up their lair.”

  His hand dropped from her chin and curled into a fist that he slammed on the dirt. “You’re not dying on my watch, Eva. I refuse to let you die. You understand?”

  Her shock only deepened. “Why?”

  “Why what?” He sounded—and looked—embarrassed.

  “Why don’t you want me to die, Tate?” She softened her tone. “Yesterday you told me you liked me, but I think you were saying that more for my sake than anything. You’ve made it clear from the beginning that you don’t particularly care about my wellbeing, so what’s changed? Why do you suddenly care whether I live or die?”

  His silence dragged on and on, and she’d just given up on ever receiving an answer when he cleared his throat and offered an awkward shrug. “Your kid. I want you to live so your kid can grow up with his mother.”

  Before she could question—or challenge—that statement, Tate stood up. “I’m gonna grab some water and then we can talk this through some more. Want anything from the cave?”

  She shook her head, then watched him stride off, feeling incredibly perturbed.

  I want you to live so your kid can grow up with his mother.

  She had to wonder, was that really it?

  Or was it possible that maybe, just maybe, Tate was actually starting to care about her?

  * * *

  It took twelve hours to reach their destination, but Tate didn’t feel the slightest bit winded. If anything, he was riddled with adrenaline, fraught with tension and champing at the bit. Hector Cruz was less than a mile away. One measly mile. For the first time in eight months, the man who’d murdered his brother was within his grasp.

  Although he preferred to travel at night, impatience and eagerness had overruled his need for caution, and so he and Eva had navigated the mountainous terrain while the sun beat down on their heads, leaving them hot and sweaty. They’d discussed their options during the trek, but Tate hadn’t come up with a workable plan of action yet.

  Eva insisted that she should be in charge of causing a distraction, but he was loath to put her in the line of fire like that. Ben would’ve easily been able to disappear in the woods and evade the men who would no doubt be dispatched to comb the mountainside. But Eva? She was no soldier, and he’d be damned if someone else died under his watch.

  Right, that’s why you’re so concerned.

  The nagging voice brought a frown to his lips. He’d been battling those same doubts all frickin’ morning, and he’d yet to make a single lick of sense about the strange emotions swirling through his chest. He didn’t want Eva to die. That much he knew, but...but why the hell should he care if she did?

  Because they were sleeping together?

  Because her kid would be orphaned?

  Because he’d be losing something...worthwhile if she wasn’t in his life?

  Ridiculous. All those options were utterly ridiculous, and only increased his annoyance. He’d be just fine if Eva was no longer warming his bed. He didn’t care about her kid. And he certainly didn’t need or want her in his life.

  “The sun will set soon,” she remarked, coming up beside him. “What’s our plan, Tate?”

  Other women would probably look exhausted and disheveled after a twelve-hour hike, yet Eva seemed downright cheery. Her eyes flickered with determination, and she held her shoulders high, despite the fact that a backpack had been weighing those shoulders down all day long.

  “When it gets dark, I’ll go on ahead and do some recon,” he replied.

  Her eyes narrowed. “Alone?”

  “Yes, alone.” He arched a brow. “Will I get an argument from you?”

  “No, but...” Her teeth nibbled on her bottom lip. “But what if something happens? What if the guards spot you?”

  “They won’t.” Confidence lined his tone. “I’m black ops, sweetheart. I’m invisible.”

  “Somehow that doesn’t reassure me.”

  Sighing, he moved closer and rested a hand on her shoulder. “It’ll be fine. I was trained for this kind of thing, Eva. And I work better alone, so you’re going to stay here like I ordered and let me do my thing, okay?”

  “Okay,” she said in a grudging tone.

  He dipped his head, brushed his lips over hers and forced himself not to question this need to reassure her. The two days in the cave had created an intimacy between them that made him unbelievably uncomfortable, yet at the same time, he found himself almost soothed by it.

  Oh, brother. He was in deep trouble.

  Stepping backward, he headed over to their gear and unzipped Ben’s duffel. Along with the aluminum case containing the RPG-7, there were also a handful of grenades, trip wires and enough C4 to blow up a small country. He was pleased to discover that Ben had even done most of the prep work—the explosives just needed to be rigged and armed, and then Tate could detonate them remotely if need be. As far as strategies went, this one was flimsy at best, but without Ben, there weren’t many other options.

  Tate gathered up the supplies he needed and stowed them in his pack, then grabbed his rifle and glanced over at Eva. Overhead, the sky had darkened, the sun steadily dipping toward the horizon line.

  “Stay out of sight,” he told her, gesturing to the crude blind he’d constructed for her in a cluster of dense shrubbery.

  Her expression was resigned. “I will.” Then she bent down, picked up her backpack and dutifully ducked into the hiding spot he’d fashioned.

  Fighting the stupid urge to yank her out of the tree and kiss her goodbye, Tate dragged the heavy duffel into the brush and covered it with fallen branches and dead leaves. A moment later, he slung his rifle over his shoulder and took off walking.

  It was the first time he’d been alone in days, and he welcomed the respite, the silence. He moved through the wilderness without making a sound, and this time, he made an effort to cover his tracks. He hadn’t bothered in the jungle or on the way here, because, frankly, he didn’t give a damn if anyone knew where he was going. Let the hunters follow him—as long as he killed Will’s murderer before they caught up to him, he’d die happy.

  Yet he couldn’t seem to maintain that careless indifference any longer. He might not care whether he lived or died, but he sure as hell cared if Eva did. For some reason, protecting her had become a priority for him, and if that meant covering his tracks so that his enemies didn’t stumble across her, then so be it.

  Tate’s instincts began to hum as he maneuvered the foothills that made up the base of the small mountain range spanning San Marquez’s western coast. The sun had set completely by then, shrouding the entire area in darkness. Since he couldn’t afford to make a single wrong move, he stopped only to remove his night-vision goggles from his pack. He slipped them on, and his surroundings immediately came alive again.

  He kept walking. The trees thinned as rocky slopes and craggy hills appeared, making it all the more important to stay invisible. The enemy was close. He felt it with a bone-deep certainty, and the conviction was validated when he finally laid eyes on the prize he’d been seeking for months.

  Hello, Cruz.

  Eva hadn’t lied. At first glance, one would think they were looking at a wall of solid rock surrounded by heavy shrubbery. In the distance, the jagged peaks of the mountains seemed to glow thanks to his goggles, but they weren’t the only things glowing. In the daylight, the copper-colored door built right into the rock formation up ahead would probably be mistaken for dirt and rock, but the night-vision goggles picked up
on the inconsistency, making that particular feature glint like the metal it was.

  Like Eva had said, the entrance was guarded, but there weren’t as many men as Tate had expected. He counted ten. Two at the door, four stationed higher in the hills, armed with rifles and binoculars. Four more walking the perimeter.

  All were rebels, which was clear thanks to the unkempt brown uniforms and the potluck collection of weaponry—AKs, M-16s, handguns, a shotgun or two. The ULF rebels were organized for the most part, but when it came to supplies, they took what they could get. Rumor had it Cruz had deals in place with several major arms dealers, but it also wasn’t uncommon for the rebels to raid military camps or villages to steal weapons.

  Since he needed to get a sense of the perimeter guards’ movements before he did anything, he hunkered down behind a couple of boulders and spent the next two hours watching and learning.

  It turned out the guards didn’t travel far. They simply circled the compound every ten minutes in teams of two, following the same path each time. Every now and then, they’d light up a cigarette and stop to chat near the half-dozen Jeeps and pickup trucks littering the base of the slope.

  Cruz’s hideout was no maximum-security prison. More like the place you sent perpetrators of tax fraud or petty crime, but then again, that made total sense. Cruz wouldn’t want to advertise his presence, and making this particular camp seem unimportant was a nice touch. Anyone who caught wind of this place would never dream to think that the leader of the ULF was hiding here, out in the open with barely any protection.

  It took Tate no time at all to set up a few strategically placed explosives, and then he was heading back the way he came, putting distance between himself and the rebels who’d been oblivious to his presence.

  He was halfway back to Eva when his body started humming again. His back stiffened and the hairs on his nape stood on end. His rifle snapped up instinctively as he slid behind a gnarled tree trunk, where he stayed out of sight. Waiting. Listening.

  Nothing sounded out of place. Just the night noises of the creatures that inhabited these woodlands.