Dangerous Desires Read online

  So with a grimace, she straightened up, startled to see that Drake had disappeared into the gloom. The jungle around her had grown noticeably darker, the rain lessening to form a fine mist. She tried for forward motion, but her legs refused the order, buckling instead, sending her headfirst into brush.

  “Hang on,” Drake said, appearing by her side, his breath warm against her ear as his arms closed around her. “I’ve got you.”

  He pulled her upright, and she leaned against him, her teeth chattering as she tried to control the shuddering. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “Can’t seem to stop.”

  “You’re going into shock,” he said, his voice still gentle. “I should have seen it coming.” He rubbed her shoulders, the resulting warmth seeming almost heaven-sent, but the shudders were still winning, so violent now that her muscles were visibly twitching.

  “I need to start a fire. Get you warm. Will you be all right if I leave you for a minute?”

  She wanted to tighten her hold. To mold herself to him permanently. But she knew that the desire sprang from her exhaustion. So she nodded against his chest. “I’ll… I’ll be okay. Ju… just help me sit down.”

  He lowered her carefully onto a grassy tuft of the riverbank. “I’ll be right back,” he said. “I’ve just got to get some wood. Okay?”

  She nodded, her tongue too thick for words, her body still racked with shudders. Wrapping her arms around herself, she closed her eyes and waited, minutes passing slowly, like the molasses her mother used to pour on pancakes. She’d made the best pancakes. They were Jenny’s favorite. Madeline smiled, the image of the two of them at the table, their mother flipping pancakes at the stove—her father passed out in the next room.

  It was the only time there was peace. She let herself drift on the encroaching darkness.

  “Madeline? Come on, you’ve got to stay with me.”

  Drake.

  “I’ve got the fire started,” he said. “We’ve just got to get you warm. Everything’s going to be all right.”

  She shook her head, denying the words. Nothing was ever going to be right. Her mother was dead. Jenny was dead. She was alone in the jungle.

  With Drake.

  Her eyes flickered open as he lifted her into his arms, carrying her away from the river. Out of the mist an outcropping of rock rose behind a stand of mata ratons. In places, the trees literally sprang from the rocks, and the overhanging branches formed an umbrella of sorts, a quiet copse that, for the moment at least, promised refuge. In the center a little fire danced against the green-gray backdrop of foliage.

  He carried her over to the fire and set her down on a mat made from palm leaves, kneeling beside her. “We need to get you warm,” he said, “and that means getting rid of those sweats for now. They’re soaked.”

  She nodded, and with gentle fingers he peeled them off, then pulled her into his lap, her body cradled against his warmth. She closed her eyes again as his arms tightened around her. It felt so nice to be taken care of.

  She couldn’t remember the last time someone had just held her.

  It had been years.

  She nestled closer, her shudders slowing to shivers, his body heat radiating into her skin, seeping down to her bones. He smelled like leather and shaving cream. Which seemed absurdly funny in the middle of the jungle. But then again maybe this was all a dream. Her brain was having a hard time separating fact from fiction.

  She could feel his heart beating against her hand, his even breath soothing her in a way nothing else possibly could have. Tears seeped from the corners of her eyes, and though the sign of weakness angered her, she couldn’t seem to find the energy to lift her hand and brush them away.

  He pulled her closer, stroking her hair, and she buried her face in his chest, great gulping sobs breaking through her carefully constructed façade.

  He stroked her hair, murmuring nonsensical nothings, and Madeline cried, releasing the terrors of the past few days. Ortiz’s threats. Their narrow escape from the compound, the man in the jungle, the waterfall—everything—all of it. He wrapped himself around her, rocking her gently, surrounding her with warmth and at least the illusion of safety.

  She knew it couldn’t last. Knew it was predicated on the moment, with little or no bearing on reality. And yet, she couldn’t let go. The feel of his heart beating against hers became the cadence of her breathing, his life tied inexorably to hers.

  She lifted her head, opening her mouth to thank him, but the words stopped in her throat as she met the dark heat of his gaze. Suddenly she wanted nothing more than to feel his skin against hers. To seek a completely different kind of comfort.

  Her lips parted, inviting his kiss, her heart pounding, praying that he’d understand—that he wouldn’t reject what she was offering. And then he was there, his mouth against hers.

  At first it was a gentle kiss. Tender almost. But Madeline wanted more. She opened her mouth, drinking him in with the desperation of a woman who’d been without water too long. Her body burned for him, the fire licking at her, building deep inside until she thought it might incinerate her. His tongue traced the line of her teeth, sending tiny waves of desire coursing through her, chasing away the shadows that threatened to consume her.

  She twined her fingers through his hair, drawing him closer, knowing she was treading on dangerous ground. Drake Flynn wasn’t the kind of man to start something he wasn’t prepared to finish. The kiss deepened and sensations exploded inside her, his mouth branding her with nothing more than his lips.

  She knew she should stop him, but here in the warmth of his arms, she didn’t want to pull away. The toll of the past few days was beyond measure, and just for a moment, she wanted to forget. To escape into the silent seduction of the kiss. She pressed closer, not sure what it was she needed but absolutely certain that he was the only one who could give it to her, and that she wanted it with every fiber of her being.

  His lips moved to her cheeks, then to her eyes, his calloused fingers framing her face. Tremors of pleasure raced through her, building with each touch, each caress. Then he moved again, taking possession of her lips, his kiss demanding now—possessive.

  A hint of worry rippled through her, but was gone before she had time to think about it. Her hands were trapped between them, his heart beating wildly against her fingers, the syncopated rhythm matching her own. She traced the line of his lips with her tongue, smiling against his mouth when he groaned with pleasure.

  There was power in knowing that she aroused him—that the seduction was mutual, her strength matching his. And on that thought, she let go of any doubt, intent instead upon riding the wave.

  His intake of breath was audible and he reached out, skimming a palm along the contours of her breasts, his touch so light, she almost couldn’t feel it. With a sigh, she closed her eyes and leaned forward, forcing the pressure. His fingers fluttered slightly and then he tightened his hold, teasing each of her nipples until they were hard, the sweet pain pooling between her legs.

  She threw back her head for another kiss, but instead her heart skittered to a stop as a low, menacing growl cut through the still night air. Just off to her left, two golden eyes gleamed in the firelight as a big black cat crouched low, muscles bunched, ready to attack.

  CHAPTER 12

  Don’t move,” Drake ordered, eyes on the puma as he carefully released her and slowly reached for his gun.

  The big cat moved forward, its teeth bared, sharp incisors white against the black fur of its muzzle. It sprang into the air, and she opened her mouth to scream, but the only sound she heard was the sharp report of Drake’s gun. The panther hit the ground, twitched once, and was still.

  “Is it dead?” she asked, her breathing ragged, her eyes locked on the puma.

  “Yeah.” Drake nodded as he knelt beside the body, using his knife to cut away several hunks of meat. “You okay?”

  “I am now,” she said, her voice still thready. “It could have killed us both.”

  “B
ut it didn’t.” He shook his head, eyes narrowed. “Unfortunately, that shot was probably audible for a couple of miles. Which means we’ve got to get moving.”

  In the panic of the moment, the intimacy between them had vanished. Probably a good thing, all in all. But Madeline couldn’t help but feel a tiny niggle of regret over the possibility of what might have been.

  “You going to be all right?” he asked, the question perfunctory, as he wrapped the meat in palm leaves and then doused the fire.

  “I’m fine,” she said, lifting her chin, feeling as if something precious had slipped away. She pulled on her sweats—thankful that the cotton was already beginning to dry—and grabbed the carryall. “Let’s just get the hell out of here.”

  The new fire leaped and crackled as Drake turned the makeshift spit with the meat from the panther. They’d walked a half mile or so farther downstream, and then he’d doubled back to make sure that no one was following them. Even with the reassurance that they were alone, it was important to stay vigilant.

  Firelight flickered across Madeline’s face as she stared into the flames. They hadn’t said much since he’d set up the new camp, just to the north of the river at the mouth of a small cave, the rocky canopy keeping the smoke from giving them away. Madeline was exhausted, he could see it in the slope of her shoulders and the circles under her eyes. But she hadn’t complained. Not once. Except for the brief interlude of tears, she’d gamely met every challenge that had been thrown at them.

  He knew it shouldn’t sway him one way or the other. Cass had been a strong woman, too. Hell, so had his mother. And they’d both betrayed him. He’d be a fool to put any trust in a woman like Madeline Reynard. The facts spoke for themselves. Whatever she was to di Silva, she’d been part of his organization, which put her on the wrong side of the equation as far as he was concerned.

  Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more. Some part of her that connected to him. At first when they’d kissed, he’d just been reacting, taking her because his body demanded it. But then, something had shifted, and he was kissing her—Madeline. And if he were honest, he’d wanted to take her then and there.

  Maybe he should be sending thanks to the puma. Sleeping with her would have been crossing a dangerous line. Whatever the reason.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, breaking into his thoughts as she lifted her face to meet his gaze across the fire. “About before. I don’t usually lose it like that. And we shouldn’t have… I mean… it was a mistake…” She looked down at her hands, chewing on her bottom lip.

  “It was just shock.” He shrugged, turning the meat. “It can happen to anyone. You’ve been through a lot today and your body’s had enough.”

  “Maybe that explains breaking down.” She shook her head. “But I kissed you.”

  “And I kissed you back.” He allowed himself a small smile. “Sometimes we just need to prove to ourselves we’re alive. You had some close calls today. It would be surprising if you hadn’t had a reaction.”

  “So we’re okay?” she asked, her question oddly endearing. Her eyes were huge, her teeth still worrying her bottom lip “I mean, we aren’t exactly friends, but we’re stuck here together, and we were doing okay before I… before we…”

  “We’re fine,” he said, removing the meat from the fire. “Besides, we’re almost out of here. Once we reach the coast, we’ll contact my team and they’ll get us back to the States in no time. Then this whole thing will be nothing more than a bad memory.” He cut the meat into pieces and offered her some on a makeshift palm leaf plate.

  They ate in silence, lost in their own thoughts. Beyond the fire, the jungle lurked in the darkness. It felt almost primordial. Man, woman, fire. His imagination flared as he remembered the feel of her lips against his. The dark could do strange things to a man. Especially here in the heart of the Andes.

  He shook his head, banishing his mutinous thoughts, concentrating instead on the makeshift meal.

  “Are you sure it’s all right for us to have a fire?” she asked, her gaze shooting to the surrounding jungle.

  “It’s a bit of a risk,” he acknowledged. “But we’ve got the overhang to protect from too much smoke and light. And if di Silva’s men are out there, they’re not going to be traveling by night for the same reasons we aren’t. So I figure we’re safe for now. Besides, the fire holds other predators at bay.”

  “You’re figuring our puma has relatives?”

  “Got it in one.” He nodded. “Is the meat okay?”

  “Delicious. The best takeout I’ve ever had.” She smiled, popping another bite into her mouth, and he was reminded again of her bravery. “Although I don’t think I could possibly eat any more,” she said, watching as he slid another piece of meat onto the spit.

  “In this kind of humidity raw meat goes rancid fast. So I’m cooking food to take with us tomorrow as well.”

  “So where’d you learn to be a Boy Scout? This rescue unit of yours?”

  “Actually, I started as a Cub Scout in California,” he admitted with a grin. “Redlands. Didn’t make it as far as the Boy Scouts, though. I discovered girls.”

  “I can see how that would be a distraction. So what came next?”

  “A stint in college baseball.”

  “Let me see,” she said, with an exaggerated frown. “First baseman?”

  “Pitcher. I had a hell of a slider. Even managed a year in the minors. But I wasn’t good enough for the majors, so I went back to college and finished my studies. Majored in archaeology.” He finished the last of his meat, tossing the leaf into the fire. “I’ve been interested since I was a kid. My dad took us to La Brea when I was six.”

  “So that’s where you learned all this. On digs?”

  “Some of it, yeah. But I’ve also picked up a tip or two since joining the unit.”

  “And I guess you can’t tell me what exactly the unit is. Or who you work for?”

  “Not without killing you, no.” He pulled out a knife, and she actually shrank back from him. His laugh echoed across the clearing. “I work for the government, Madeline. But you already know that.”

  She blew out a breath and cocked her head to one side, studying him. “So why the switch from preservation to destruction?”

  “In both cases, you’re oversimplifying, but the real truth is that I’m an adrenaline junkie.”

  “I think there’s more to it than that.” Her eyes glittered in the firelight, her gaze speculative. “But whatever your reasons, I’m glad you made the choices you did. Otherwise, I might be dead.”

  “So earlier,” he said, taking advantage of the fact that she seemed to have lowered her guard, “when you said you were never di Silva’s mistress—were you telling the truth?”

  She paused for a moment, clearly considering a lie and then, with a little sigh, nodded. “I said that to protect myself. I actually worked for the organization.”

  “Doing things you might be prosecuted for,” he finished for her.

  “Yeah. Last I heard there was nothing illegal about being someone’s mistress.” She stared down at her hands for a moment, then lifted her gaze to meet his, her expression unapologetic.

  “So why did you do it?” he asked, careful to keep any hint of accusation from his tone. “Go to work for someone like di Silva, I mean.”

  At first he thought she wasn’t going to answer, but then she shrugged. “I was trying to protect Jenny.” She laughed, the sound harsh against the soft silence of the jungle. “But in end, it didn’t matter; she still wound up dead.”

  “Jenny?” he asked, curiosity roused.

  “My sister.” She stumbled over the words. “She was two years younger than me.”

  “I had a brother,” he said, surprised at himself for sharing. “Three years older. He died, too.”

  Her smile was sad. “Then you understand.”

  And he did. Tucker’s death had hit hard. As if someone had cut a part out of him. The good part.


  “How long ago did he die?” she asked, pulling him away from his thoughts.

  “It’s been almost five years,” he said, closing his eyes, remembering. “It was an accident. He was doing flight training in the desert in Nevada.”

  “It must have been hard on your parents.”

  Drake shook his head. “No. My dad’s dead. And my mom doesn’t give a damn. Short version is that my mom ran off and left us when Tucker and I were just little. My dad did the best he could. But he wasn’t ever the same after she was gone. He died about ten years ago. Cancer.”

  “I’m sorry.” She tilted her head, the firelight enhancing the beauty of her face. “You said it was a training flight. Your brother’s accident. Does that mean he worked for the government, too?”

  “Yeah,” he nodded. “The military.”

  “Were you close?” she asked.

  “He was my best friend. Especially when we were kids. Like I said, our family went through a rough patch, and Tucker’s the one that held us together. What about Jenny? Were the two of you close?”

  “When we were little it was the two of us against the world. Especially after my mother died.”

  “But things changed?”

  “Not the way we felt.” She shook her head. “But my father was a drunk—a mean one. When my mother was alive, she kept him away from us. But after she was gone…” She paused, considering her words. “I was the only thing standing between him and Jenny.”

  “Why didn’t you just leave?” he asked.

  “I was ten. Jenny was eight. Where were we supposed to go? Social Services doesn’t exist in backwater places like Cypress Bluff. We only had each other. Jenny used to say that as long as we were together we could handle anything.”

  “So what happened?” Drake asked, the question hanging between them in the dark.

  “I broke my promise. I left. And she got addicted to drugs. It was her way of dealing with my dad, I guess. Anyway, things went from bad to worse and she wound up in Colombia. She’d been working as a mule to support her habit.”