Dangerous Attraction Romantic Suspense Boxed Set (120 page)

He grimaced and her thumb brushed his lips. His eyes flared with heat that found an echo inside her. She pulled away. Now wasn’t the time for anything except survival.

He released her to check his gear. “A couple of hours ago I caught a glimpse of the Russian in the entrance of this cave. I found another cave around the corner and called in the position to HQ. Next thing I know I’m ordered to get the hell out of the area because they were going to bomb the bastard to smithereens.”

“But…”
What about me?
The mute question must have shown in her eyes. He lifted a hand and stroked it across her cheek in a move that sent a ripple of sensation clear down to her toes. She didn’t back away. If she could find any courage at all, it would be in facing up to her attraction to this man.

“They knew he had a hostage but they didn’t know your name or your fancy relations.” His voice was gentle. “It wasn’t personal. They’ve been after this guy for decades because he’s been teaching bomb-making to the masses. No way they’d risk him escaping during a hostage rescue mission.”

And once again her death would have been deemed acceptable collateral damage. That was when she figured out exactly why he’d get court-martialed. “You came for me anyway.”

“It’s my job.” But he was lying. He took a step back, obviously uncomfortable talking about what he’d done. His job was to follow orders,
not
to save her.

“Come on.” He hoisted his pack more securely. “I might have shot the old bugger—he must be wearing Kevlar under his shirt—but the old wolf is still a threat.”

He held out his hand. She could almost stand straight, but he had to bend his head to avoid the top of the tunnel. She squeezed his fingers in simple thanks, was grateful to be squeezed back by such a capable human being.

She was capable—but not under these circumstances. She could barely walk and talk, let alone make a constructive plan to escape this nightmare.

Their footsteps competed with the occasional drip of water from the rock above their heads. The air smelled dank and stale and there was something surreal about following this man into the unknown—into her darkest fear. The walls sparkled in the faint beam of light and were generally worn smooth.

“Who made these tunnels?” she asked.

“They could be natural.” Dempsey kicked some of the loose debris out of his way. “But they were probably expanded by humans at some point.” He turned to her, impossibly handsome as a smile cut deeply into one cheek. “Could have been Marco Polo for all we know.”

They carried on through passages that seemed to lead deep into the mountain like some dark maw. Part of her wanted to panic, to curl into a pathetic ball and stay there forever. But Dempsey held onto her, and she would not fall apart in his presence. No matter how much she wanted to.

They trudged onward. She followed him closely, using his broad back as her lifeline at the same time refusing to think about the situation they were in. They came across a rope ladder that someone had cut down, proving humans had used these caves at some point in history. It didn’t take Dempsey long to scale the rock face and rig a rope for her to climb. He moved quietly but fast, stopped regularly, listening to something she couldn’t distinguish over the treble of her heart.

Everything hurt—her muscles ached, her head throbbed and she was tired and thirsty. Having this soldier here inspired her to keep on moving. She didn’t whine that they were going to die because it wouldn’t help. She didn’t want to be the damsel in distress, even though that was exactly what she had been when he’d found her wearing that explosive vest. She couldn’t begin to describe that sensation. Being scared on such a primitive, cellular level.

Dempsey had saved her life even though he’d been ordered not to.

Yesterday, he’d told her he tried to save innocent lives. She might not have truly believed him, but she’d never doubt him again. He was a hero. A goddamned hero.

What about her meager existence? Even though she’d worked her ass off, she wouldn’t leave much of a legacy. It turned her stomach to think she might become more famous for getting animals killed than for rescuing them.

Her stomach growled and without a word he handed her some dried rations which actually tasted pretty yummy. They didn’t stop to eat. Just kept walking through the maze of tunnels.

“Did you ever see
Lord of the Rings
?” she whispered at last, trying not to think about the implacable rock balanced above their heads and the absolutely no chance of rescue should it collapse.

“About a million times,” he whispered back. “Are you keeping an eye out for trolls?”

“And the Balrog.” She stepped in a blood drop that had smeared across the stone and shuddered. The Russian was still alive. “You think he knows a way out?”

“I’m betting on it.” Dempsey nodded. “I only hope he doesn’t bleed to death before he gets there.”

She was quiet again, concentrating on placing her feet without tripping. Her breath was hoarse and she was starting to shiver despite the physical exertion. She stumbled for the third time and Dempsey turned. His eyes narrowed with concern. He glanced at his watch.

“Let’s take a break and get a few hours sleep.” There was a relatively flat area tucked between two rocky outcrops.

“I’m sorry. I can’t keep up.”

“Two apologies in one day? This must be one for the record books.”

The gentle teasing in his voice made her let go of her natural tension. He was trying to keep the mood upbeat and she appreciated the effort in this nightmarish situation. “Am I that bad?”

He considered his answer as he slipped out of his pack and started unpacking some supplies. “You’re driven. Stubborn.”

She nodded. “That I can admit to.” She held up her palm when he opened his mouth to add more. “Please. I promise to be a better person if we get out of here.”

“
When
,” he corrected. “Not
if
.”

She braced herself against a boulder as she started to sway. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” She bowed her head and tried to blink away her exhaustion. “Maybe I’m not stubborn enough.”

“Yeah, you’re a real lightweight.” He took a step toward her and she registered how attractive he was. She hadn’t thought so when she’d first met him. He’d scared her to death because she’d thought he was killing her leopards. All the while it had been her fault. “In case you’ve forgotten, you’ve had barely any sleep for days.”

She opened her mouth to argue that he’d been awake too.

“You’ve been mauled by a leopard, kidnapped, hauled for miles on the back of a horse, bombed and trapped underground.”

“You haven’t had it any easier.”

“It’s what I train for every day.” He rested his hands on her shoulders, the pressure reassuring. “It’s why they pay me the big bucks.”

She rolled her eyes. Money had nothing to do with why he did what he did. He passed her the canteen and didn’t have to tell her to ration water. It was all they had. She caught the drip on her chin and sucked it off her finger, memories from her time as a child fresh in her mind.

“At least your leopards are safe,” he said.

A pain shot through her chest. “If it wasn’t for me they wouldn’t have been in danger in the first place. Volkov killed them to lure me here.”

He pressed his lips together. “What did he want? Did he say?”

She shook her head. “He called and threatened someone about me—I’m assuming it was my father but I don’t know for sure. He drugged me. I think he said something about wanting his family out of Russia?” If he’d called her father, why had the military bombed the place? Her father was a top US official with a lot of political clout. He wouldn’t have stood by while his countrymen murdered his daughter. They hadn’t been real close recently but she didn’t think he hated her that much.

A chasm cracked open in her chest. She hadn’t even spoken to him in months. He’d disapproved of her career choice and she’d disapproved of his new wife. It seemed childish now. She loved him. She should have told him she loved him. They both knew life could be cut short in an instant.

Dempsey spread a sleeping bag out on the uneven ground. “If you want to stay warm you’re going to have to cuddle up next to me.” He held up his flashlight. “I need to turn this off to conserve battery life.”

She wasn’t adverse to sharing body heat or stealing some comfort, but she didn’t want to think about the dark. She lay beside him, the floor uneven and hard. He spread a silver emergency blanket over them both. She shifted uncomfortably, grateful when he passed a T-shirt to use as a pillow.

He spooned himself around her and she sank back into a cocoon of heat. His holding her didn’t seem awkward. After years of sleeping alone, she thought it would take time to adjust, but being next to him felt natural. They fit. Her body relaxed. After everything they’d been through she trusted him. And she didn’t trust easy. He hooked his arm around her waist and held her tight.

“Get some sleep.” His breath ruffled her hair.

Fatigue was already dragging her lids down, but she was relieved to be holding onto something strong and vital when the light went off.

Chapter Eleven

Dempsey woke surrounded by the scent of warm female. It was pitch-black but his other senses were making up for loss of vision and his imagination supplied the rest. His nose was in Axelle’s hair, and every inch of the front of his body was plastered to the back of hers. He realized his fingers were curled under her arm and clamped possessively over her breast. Her nipple pebbled against his palm—from cold, not desire, though his body couldn’t tell the difference.

He tried to ignore his dick’s pathetically predictable reaction to waking up holding a beautiful woman and think about the next course of action instead.

Follow the blood trail, checking for booby traps along the way. He shifted his knee, accidentally nudging her thigh forward and bringing his erection into direct contact with her arse—her very fine arse. He
had
seen her naked, and every glorious detail tortured him now.

Most people—let alone someone who’d suffered what she’d been through—would have freaked out by now. The number of ways they could die was staggering. He’d taken on that risk when he’d signed up for active duty. She hadn’t.

He made himself shuffle back, creating a space between them. She wasn’t his lover. She depended on him and that wasn’t a position he intended to exploit, no matter how his body was crying out for some basic human contact. Very basic. Lots of contact.

She’d been through hell.

She was exhausted, tired and scared.

Who knew how long they were going to be trapped together. This cave network might not go anywhere except down. The bombing raid could have blasted shut every exit, and if it hadn’t, the Russian could still do the job for them. He needed to catch up with the old bastard but couldn’t risk losing Axelle in the warren of tunnels.

He listened to her deep even breathing while he lay there stubbornly aroused, his skin prickling with hyperawareness and desire. He tried to distract himself with things that weren’t making sense. Like
if
her father had been contacted, why would the Brits—assuming it was the Brits—order the bombing of the cave when he was in position to at least chance a rescue? Why waste an opportunity to catch this old fecker and extract as much intel from him as possible?

Why try to blitz the old goat into oblivion?

Axelle edged toward him in sleep and now he was trapped against the wall and couldn’t move away without waking her. He lay there gritting his teeth as she wriggled against him. A long strand of hair tickled his nose and he smoothed it gently away. She stirred.

He heard the panic enter her breathing and she whipped toward him in the dark.

“Shush,” he whispered. “Everything’s okay. Go back to sleep.”

“Dempsey?” She gave an audible swallow of relief, but she was still shaking with fear.

“I think you can call me, Ty, now you’ve slept with me twice.”

Her fingers sank into his shirt, searching for some sort of anchor in the dense sea of blackness. “Funny.”

“Thank you. How’re you feeling?”

“I haven’t bathed in days and I’m in danger of throwing up every time I remember where I am.” She laughed nervously. The silence grew and he felt her staring at him. “Every time I think about where we are—”

“So don’t think about it.” He smoothed hair off her brow.

She captured his fingers. “Then distract me.” That gave his small brain a jolt. “Tell me something about yourself that isn’t name, rank and number. Tell me why you joined the army.”

Lingering thoughts of sex and arousal evaporated.

Normally, he’d have lied. But he could feel her nervous breath against his neck, knew her panic was right on the periphery. And, for once, he didn’t want to lie. It was a big part of what made him who he was and he wanted her to know. To know him. “My sister was killed by a terrorist bomb when I was seventeen.” Faded memories of his sister’s smiling face and deep laughter rang through his mind, and immediately he was catapulted back to the day they’d put her in the ground.

Rain dripped down from the sky like God himself was weeping. But Tyrone doubted the deity his family prayed to would have enough pity in his heart for a bunch of murdering feckers like the ones who stood before him.

Not that they saw themselves that way. Oh, no. They were heroes of the revolution. Heroic fighters in a guerilla war that had lasted decades. It was him they blamed. He could see it in their eyes.

The priest droned on and on. Finally, as one, they made the sign of the cross. It was a wonder they weren’t struck down dead on the spot for hypocrisy. If Tyrone had been looking for a sign that religion was bogus he’d have just found it. But he’d stopped believing three days ago when his little sister had been caught in the bomb his dad had built and his brothers had planted.

Prayers ended. Rage simmered.

The priest moved away for the mourners to pay their private respects. His father stood by the grave and looked down at the shiny white coffin for a long moment before turning away, deliberately pushing past Tyrone as he went. He fell back a step, shaking so hard from trying to rein the fury all in, that it was consuming him, cell by cell. His brothers stared at him stonily.