Soldier Under Siege Page 8

  Palming the handle of his machete, he stood up and appraised Eva, pleased by what he saw. Her jeans would protect her from the bugs, and she could put on the white button-down tied around her waist if her arms started to get bitten. Her hiking boots were sturdy—he’d checked back at the fort—and that hat ought to protect her from the sun.

  He gave a satisfied nod. “Ready?”

  She nodded back.

  “Good. We’ll follow the river,” he said briskly, his boots crunching over the dense undergrowth that made up the jungle floor.

  Hope lit in her blue eyes. “If we’re sticking to the river, why not just raft it?”

  “Too risky. The river patrols have increased since Cruz went underground. Every member of the military is hunting him.”

  She sighed. “Fine. Then let’s go. I want this to be over as soon as possible.” As if to punctuate that, she slapped the mosquito that had the misfortune of landing on her neck and flicked the dead insect away with a grimace.

  “Stay behind me,” he ordered.

  “I plan on it. In fact, if we get attacked by a crazed monkey or something, I’m fully prepared to use you as a human shield.”

  A laugh escaped his mouth, and he quickly had to berate himself for it. Eva was gorgeous—no denying that. She was also far more intelligent than he’d previously thought, not to mention entertaining, thanks to that wry sense of humor.

  But she was still a potential enemy.

  He needed to remember that before he did something stupid—such as starting to actually like the woman.

  * * *

  They traveled at a vigorous pace for the next several hours. Tate used the machete to hack a crude path in the vegetation, while Eva trailed after him. To her credit, she didn’t complain once during the trek, except to voice her annoyance with the relentless mosquitoes that refused to let up.

  Tate could hear the river from the east, water gurgling and lapping the riverbank, but he didn’t stick too close to it. He set a parallel course, one that kept them hidden in the event a river patrol cruised by. He and Eva stopped only to refill their canteens at a freshwater pool they happened upon, then scarfed down a couple of MREs while they waited for the purification tablets to do their job and make the water safe to drink.

  By the time the sun dipped toward the horizon line, they’d made damn good time, and he was pleased with their progress. Eva didn’t seem to be tiring, which impressed the hell out of him.

  “You’re in good shape,” he remarked, as he hacked away at the low-hanging vines blocking his path.

  “I work out at night when Rafe is asleep.” She paused. “I don’t sleep much. Especially not since Istanbul.”

  He used the blade of the machete to shove aside some moss-covered branches; you never used your hands if you knew what was good for you, as there were lots of nasty surprises in all that greenery.

  “What happened in Istanbul?” he asked carefully.

  “Two of Hector’s men—”

  The jungle drowned out the rest of her reply. Screaming monkeys, a breaking branch, the swoosh of wings as a macaw soared right above their heads.

  Eva’s soft laughter broke through the din. “Noisiest place on earth, huh? I can barely hear myself think. Anyway, as I was saying, two of Hector’s men tracked me to the house I rented in Istanbul.”

  “Did they hurt you?”

  “Almost. They broke down the door while I was feeding Rafe his dinner. They were armed, and they lunged at us. I grabbed Rafe and ran into the bedroom at the back of the house. I found my gun, and...and when they burst into the room, I fired.” Her voice shook. “I unloaded the entire clip.”

  Tate halted, lowering his machete as he turned to face her. The torment in her eyes was hard to miss, and he noticed that her hands were trembling.

  “I murdered two men,” she said softly.

  He let out a breath. “You were defending yourself and your son.”

  “But they weren’t trying to kill us.” Agony clung to her tone. “They were hired to bring me to Hector. They wouldn’t have hurt me.”

  “Taking you somewhere against your will is hurting you. You did what you needed to do to survive.”

  Bitterness slashed across her face. “Is that how I should justify it?”

  He shrugged. “Justify it however you like. All I’m saying is, you didn’t murder two men in cold blood, Eva. You can let yourself off the hook.”

  “I’ve tried.” Her teeth dug into her bottom lip. “He didn’t see it. Rafe, I mean. I shoved him under the bed just before the men burst into the room, but he heard the gunfire and...he must have heard their screams.”

  “He’s three. I doubt he can truly grasp what happened that day.”

  “He has nightmares about it.”

  “They’ll go away.”

  “You really believe that?”

  No.

  “Sure,” he said lightly, before taking a step forward. “Let’s keep moving.”

  She followed him without protest, sticking close as they forged a path through the jungle. “How come you don’t have any kids?” she asked.

  “Never wanted any.”

  “Why not?”

  “Just not interested.”

  A branch snapped overhead, and Tate immediately looked up, seeking out the source of the disturbance. Critters had a habit of dropping right on top of your head out here. The way he saw it, if you weren’t alert, you deserved whatever you got.

  “Don’t want the responsibility, huh?” Her voice held a note of amusement.

  “I’m fine with responsibility, sweetheart.” He paused. “I don’t think I’d be much of a role model for a kid, okay?”

  Now she sounded surprised. “Army captain, black ops supersoldier...you’re like a real-life hero. Kids eat that stuff up.”

  Discomfort welled in his chest, and he was glad Eva was behind him so she couldn’t see his face. He suspected his expression was as broken and empty as the rest of him. With Will gone, he had absolutely no reason to pretend anymore. Pretend to give a damn, pretend he had any humanity left.

  Truth was, he’d shut down a long time ago, but he’d been putting up a pretense for his little brother’s sake. Now there was nothing stopping him from embracing the anger burning inside him, nothing to stop him from giving the finger to a world that had constantly and unfailingly turned its back on him.

  “I’m no hero,” he said gruffly. “And I wouldn’t wish my own company on any child.”

  Her tone softened. “I wasn’t sure I’d be a good mother, either, but after I had Rafe, those maternal instincts just reared up out of nowhere. He’s made me a better person, I think. He’s my entire life now.”

  Tate chopped at some vines, then ducked through the opening he’d created. “Your entire life, huh? That can’t possibly be healthy. No room for a man in your life?”

  “Nope.”

  “What about in your bed?”

  “What about it?”

  He couldn’t control the husky note in his voice. “You don’t get lonely sometimes, Eva? Late at night, when you’re lying alone in bed?”

  “No.” He couldn’t see her face, but he felt the heat of her gaze on his back. “Why, you offering to relieve some of my loneliness?”

  A bolt of arousal sizzled down his spine and settled in his groin. Damn, just the thought of burning the sheets with this woman got him harder than concrete.

  “Because if so, I’d have to decline,” she went on. “I kind of prefer it when the men in my bed actually like and trust me. Otherwise, it feels like—”

  A high-pitched shriek sliced through the air.

  “Holy hell, what was that?” Eva burst out. She slapped her shoulder in a panic and proceeded to hop around as if the ground was on fire. “What was that sound? What the frickin’ hell?”

  Tate instantly drew her to his side and dragged her a few yards away. He ran his hands up and down her torso in a hurried inspection, then examined her shoulder, lifting up the sleeve
of her T-shirt to take a look.

  “Lucky girl,” he told her. “You didn’t get bitten.”

  “Bitten by what? What was that shrieking noise?”

  She looked so utterly freaked out he stifled a laugh. “Bullet ants.”

  “That five-inch thing that pounced on my shoulder while screaming like a banshee was an ant?”

  “Yes, and five inches is an overexaggeration—those things only grow about an inch or so. And for some messed-up reason, they make that noise when they attack you.” Satisfied she’d been spared, he dropped his hands from her shoulders and took a step back. “You’re damn lucky. Bullet ant bites are painful as hell.”

  She shuddered in revulsion. “Oh, my God. Why do insects like that exist? Why? And don’t give me the whole food-chain, circle-of-life crap. I understand that everything needs to eat, okay?” Another shudder overtook her curvy frame. “Oh, man, I can’t erase this creeped out goose-bumpy feeling.”

  This time he laughed out loud. “Wow. You weren’t kidding about hating insects.”

  “I never kid about bugs. Ever.” She sighed, then removed her hat so she could fix her ponytail, which had come undone during her meltdown.

  As he watched her, Tate’s hands tingled with the urge to slide through all that long black hair. To twine those silky strands around his fingers and angle her head so he could lean down and capture that lush mouth with his. A groan lodged in his throat as he imagined that moment when their tongues would meet, when Eva would arch her back and press her firm breasts against his chest while he kissed her, slowly, deeply, until she was begging him to take her.

  “Why are you staring at me?”

  He met her gaze. Noticed the knowing gleam in her blue eyes, mingled with the flicker of unease. “You know why,” he said huskily.

  Her lips parted in surprise. She swallowed, her delicate throat dipping.

  Silence stretched between them, but their eyes stayed locked. His pulse kicked up a notch, and he cursed himself for it. What was he doing, standing there having eye sex with the woman?

  Disgusted with himself, he broke the eye contact and shifted his grip on the machete. “It’ll be dark soon,” he muttered. “Let’s find a place to set up camp.”

  She nodded a few times, as if trying to clear her head. “Sure.”

  They didn’t say much as they resumed walking, and it was another mile or so before Tate found a suitable place to set up camp. Close enough to the river that he could hear its soft babbling, but far enough that they weren’t in danger of being swept away in a flash flood. He cleared some of the undergrowth with the machete, probing beneath the snarled jungle floor with a branch to make sure the area was free of snakes and other menaces.

  As he strung up the hammock, he felt Eva’s blue-eyed gaze on him, and finally glanced over to frown at her. “What?”

  “Did you only bring that one hammock?”

  “Yes.” He arched an eyebrow. “Something wrong with that?”

  “So we’re, um, sharing it?”

  “Uh-huh. Unless you’d prefer to sleep on the ground with the snakes, ants, scorpions, termites and pretty much any other insect or reptile you can name.”

  Her cheeks took on a green tinge. “Oh. Well. Then I’d love to share the hammock with you, Tate.”

  He fought another burst of laughter. Damn it. This woman was testing his control—each time he raised his guard, she knocked it right down with her dry remarks, or her self-deprecating smiles, or her fear of bugs. She was not at all what he’d thought she was, and she’d been throwing him for a loop from the moment she’d walked into the back room of the cantina. A woman as gorgeous as this one often tended to be arrogant, strutting around with a pampered sense of entitlement. Either that, or ditzy and self-indulgent. But Eva was none of those things, which made it all the harder not to like her.

  “I’m allotting us four hours of shut-eye,” he said once the hammock was secured.

  If it was up to him, they’d operate on less sleep than that, but Eva’s fatigue was evident, even if she wouldn’t admit it. She had dark circles under her eyes and smudges of dirt on her cheeks, and when she dropped her backpack on the ground and reached up to massage her shoulders, Tate knew the heavy load had gotten to her.

  “I’m going to wash up in that stream we just passed.” She tossed her hat on top of her bag, then lifted her arms over her head for a deep stretch. “I can’t sleep if I feel grimy.”

  She bent down and rummaged through her pack, removing her canteen, a washcloth, and a fresh shirt and socks. “Also, would it have killed you to pack some tissues or something?” she asked. “I have to pee again and I really don’t like using leaves.”

  He rolled his eyes. “The texture is too rough for your delicate parts?”

  “No, I spend too much time examining the leaf to make sure there’s no bugs on it.”

  He laughed and reached into his own bag for the package of tissues he’d noticed in the front zipper pocket. When he tossed the packet to Eva, she looked at him as if she’d won the lottery.

  Then she scowled. “You had these the entire time? Holding out on me, were you?” She moved toward the trees before he could respond. “I’ll just be a few minutes.”

  She’d just taken a step when Tate saw the flash of brownish-gold amid the greenery.

  “Eva, stop,” he hissed.

  “But I want to wash up before it gets any darker—”

  “Eva. Don’t move.”

  The lethal pitch to his voice didn’t go unnoticed.

  Eva froze on command, and her sharp intake of breath revealed the exact moment her gaze collided with the broad head and rounded snout of the pit viper dangling right in front of her face.

  Chapter 7

  Eva was actually pretty proud of herself. She wasn’t screaming her lungs out. Wasn’t running for her life. Wasn’t throwing up or passing out.

  Then again, she wasn’t doing any of those things because she was utterly and completely paralyzed with fear.

  Her gaze locked with the hypnotic, catlike pupils of the deadly snake eyeing her down. The bushmaster—she recognized the species from the survival course she’d taken before joining the relief foundation five years ago. With its brownish-pink coloring and black diamond-shaped markings along its back, the deep pits on either side of its face and a terrifyingly long body, the snake was undeniably beautiful, in a predatory kind of way. The shape of the head gave its deadliness away—slightly triangular, a clear warning that this species was poisonous.

  Her heartbeat accelerated, thudding out a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She was tempted to drop the canteen and clothes she was holding and run like hell, but she knew pit vipers were deceptively fast. And their bites were fatal. One wrong move and she’d be full of snake venom.

  “Stay still, sweetheart.”

  Tate’s voice was low, barely a whisper.

  She opened the corner of her mouth a crack. “Should I try to grab it and whip it away?” she whispered back.

  “God, no.” She heard a soft rustling, and then, “I mean it, Eva. Don’t move a goddamn muscle. If I miss...”

  “Miss what? What are you—”

  Something hissed right by her ear, slicing the air with a high-pitched whistling sound and ruffling the loose strands of hair at the side of her face.

  A second later she heard a sharp smack and the viper was gone.

  Shock, relief and adrenaline streamed through her blood, bringing a rush of light-headedness. Gaping, she stared at the wooden handle of the knife that had pinned the bushmaster to the tree—by its head. The snake was still alive, body undulating wildly and fangs exposed as it thrashed around, but the blade of Tate’s knife made it impossible for it to escape.

  “Go wash up.” Tate came up beside her with another knife in his hand.

  Her pulse continued to shriek in her ears. “Wh-what?”

  “Wash up. I’ll take care of this.”

  She felt dazed, unable to do more than just gawk
at him. After a beat, he made a frustrated sound and forcibly moved her away from the tree. He cupped her chin with one strong hand, his thumb sweeping over the edge of her jaw. “Go to the stream and get cleaned up, Eva.”

  His rough command snapped her out of her fear-induced trance and suddenly she became aware of Tate’s hand on her face. Her pulse raced, and this time it had nothing to do with fear or lingering adrenaline and everything to do with the sexy man standing so close to her. With his square jaw covered with dark stubble and his green eyes glittering with fortitude, he made a seriously imposing picture.

  She sucked in a breath, only to inhale the spicy, masculine scent of Tate. Wow. Even after trekking through the jungle all day, the man smelled great.

  Uh, deadly poisonous snake pinned to a tree?

  The reminder nearly made her laugh. “Okay. Um. I’ll be right back,” she said, while the pit viper continued to thrash on the moss-covered tree bark.

  Avoiding Tate’s eyes, she stumbled through the trees toward the small freshwater pool ten yards away, where she stripped off her sweat-soaked tee and kicked off her boots. She quickly splashed water on her face, then washed her hands, feet and underarms before slipping into a loose long-sleeved shirt and fresh socks. She went to the loo with a tissue gratefully on hand, then filled up her canteen and dropped an iodine tablet inside to purify the water.

  By the time she returned to the clearing, she felt calm and relaxed, her near-death experience with that pit viper nothing but an unpleasant memory. She glanced at the tree. No snake. Then she glanced warily at Tate, who was lying in the hammock with his arms propped behind his head.

  “What’d you do to the snake?” she asked, as she shoved her things into her pack.

  “Cut his head off and gave him a nice burial.”

  She blanched. So that was why he’d sent her away. He hadn’t wanted her to see him brutally decapitate that poor fellow.

  Tate gazed up at the green canopy high above their heads. Barely any light got through the trees, and everything around them was bathed in shadows now.