Romancing the Alpha: An Action-Adventure Romance Boxed Set (112 page)

And she didn’t look back.

Not even when she heard the
rat-ta-tat-tat
of gunshots.

••••

Night was falling quickly, and Nola was alone in the jungle, completely lost.

When she’d heard the shots, three, then four, then so many that she couldn’t count them, she had run faster, harder, moving ever deeper into the thick foliage. The vegetation was thick, and only got thicker with each step, so thick and tall she got slower and slower as she fought with the underbrush.

And every moment, with every step, she imagined whatever menace had lurked in that green truck catching up with her, every breaking branch, every shuddering leaf igniting a new round of fear. But she continued, Cruz’s voice, the pleading in his eyes, making her advance.

But what she didn’t do was let herself think about what had happened as she’d run out of sight. Cruz was strong, the strongest person she’d ever known. He’d made it. He had to.

There was no other alternative.

So she trudged on, moving farther and farther away from the road. All signs of civilization had long faded, but she focused on moving, ignored the thick, humid air, the sweat that covered her body, the aching tug in her tired limbs. Cruz would have done the same, and so would she. And in the days since she’d first set foot on that plane, she’d done more than she’d ever thought herself capable of. She’d go on.

The slick, wet underbrush slapped at her calves, but she didn’t stop. She could feel the welts rising on her legs, the blood dripping from them, but still she didn’t stop, tried to stay calm and ignore the heat, the exhaustion, the thirst. She’d spent countless hours in the woods as a child, and that was what she was doing now, a simple stroll in the woods, she said to herself, ignoring the fact that the North Carolina woods were not the jungles of Vietnam.

Ha! I’m going to get eaten by lemurs, and they’ll never find my body.

The thought slipped in before she could stop it, but rather than scaring her, it made her laugh. She imagined it now, the whispered conversations about how poor Nola had gotten herself eaten by lemurs. They’d talk about how she shouldn’t have been there in the first place, use her as a story to scare the little kids who dared think beyond the world of Thornehill.

And then any humor faded as she tried to imagine how sad her friends and family, people that she’d taken for granted, would be if she didn’t make it out of here. How Cruz’s sacrifice would have been for nothing…

Resolve filled her and guided her steps. She was going to make it out of here. Somehow she’d find a way.

A sharp pain in her ankle brought her back to the present, and she finally stopped, the insistent jab leaving her no other choice. She crouched down and rubbed her ankle. Ignoring the blood that coated her fingers, she glanced around, trying to get a sense of where she was. Darkness had fallen completely now, and she could barely see anything at all. But the roughness of the terrain told her that she was moving higher. The sun had been behind her, and though she didn’t want to risk turning back, she decided it was her only option. There was a real chance that she’d run into the people who’d been chasing them, but if she stayed in the jungle for too much longer, her death was an inevitability. Making it to civilization was her only shot.

So, unspoken prayer replaying in her mind, she turned, and then began the arduous process of fighting her way back through the bush.

When she heard a twig snap, she jumped. Animal calls, the shifting of trees, an entire symphony of sounds had buzzed around her incessantly and more intensely as night fell upon her. But this sound stood out, rang as loud as the gunfire had earlier, and her heart, which had somehow gone back to normal, sped again.

She stopped, listening intently, and almost shrieked when she heard it again. Her pounding heart had drowned out almost everything, but that snap and the shifting leaves that followed it was crystal clear. For once, Nola didn’t question her instincts and set off to run.

She didn’t make it two steps before an arm clamped around her waist and a huge hand covered her mouth.

••••

“Nola,” Cruz whispered.

She struggled against him, and Cruz knew she hadn’t heard him.

“It’s me, Nola,” he whispered against her ear, pulling her body close and willing her to understand.

She stopped thrashing, but she still gripped his wrist tight.

“I’m going to take my hand away. Please don’t scream. Can you do that?”

She nodded, and he slowly lowered his hand. They’d handled the guys in the truck, but Cruz knew that someone would come looking for them eventually.

Nola shifted and Cruz relaxed his hold. He could barely make out her face in the dark, but there was no mistaking the fierce intensity of her embrace when she threw her arms around him, the urgency with which she held him. As she clung to him, a relief unlike any he’d ever experienced filled him. He hadn’t allowed himself a moment of doubt, but feeling her in his arms, real and alive, was a reminder of how close he’d come to losing her.

In those moments at the side of the road, he’d made peace with the end of his life, with the fact that he’d never see her again, and with each second that had passed, he pictured her getting farther and farther out of their grasp, something that had made his sacrifice worth it.

“I thought—” she began but then cut off quickly, and he squeezed her tighter.

“I’m not so easy to shake,” he said and was rewarded with a soft laugh.

“Guess not,” she responded.

“We have to get out of this jungle,” he said.

“Agreed. Do you know where we are?”

“Not exactly, but I spotted what looks like a small resort about five miles back. That’s where we’re headed. Stay close.”

“Okay.”

And though Cruz would have liked nothing more than to hold her forever, he let her go and began the trek. Moving in the jungle at this hour was dangerous, but they had no alternative. The land mines and booby traps from the war had mostly been cleared, but cartels and poachers sometimes put in new ones. Between the people that probably hunted them and the snakes, scorpions, and wild boar that roamed the jungle, this would be one of the most dangerous journeys Cruz had ever taken.

But he’d complete it successfully and protect the woman he loved.

That thought should have shocked him, but it didn’t. He’d sensed something special about Nola the first time he laid eyes on her, and her strength during the following days had only reinforced it. That he’d been willing to risk his very existence for hers was the last bit of confirmation.

He loved Nola Bailey.

So he’d protect her, make it so that she got out of here. And then he’d return her to her real life.

“Here,” Cruz said.

He sped up, moving toward the small bungalow with Nola one step behind him. After hours of walking, the foliage had gotten thinner, the ground more even, and then they’d eventually emerged from the jungle. The bright, low-hanging full moon had lit their path, and Cruz’s heart had soared when he’d spotted the resort. It was actually a spaced cluster of small, isolated houses designed to give the visitors an authentic Vietnamese countryside feel.

And even better, it was the perfect place to stop and regroup.

After disabling the wired security system, he opened the lock and entered. The small structure had a tiny kitchenette, living room/bedroom combination, and bathroom. It was just the kind of place Nola had probably imagined she’d be spending her vacation.

He turned to her and was driven to action when he saw her face. She shivered, her teeth clattering, but probably not from fear. Somewhere in the hours they’d been in the jungle, her heat had faded. There was little room for fear with everything else they’d faced, the weather being one of their many foes. The heavy, humid air had turned frigid, and her thin T-shirt and pants hadn’t provided nearly enough protection, made clear by her shivers and the alarming bluish tint of her lips.

But even still, lips blue, face ashen, hair littered with leaves and twigs and who knew what else, she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

And she was alive.

Cruz moved quickly, locked the door and made sure no one was approaching.

Then, he grabbed the small comm that he’d kept in his pocket, praying that it still worked. He turned it on and flipped through the channels before he landed on the agreed-upon frequency.

Sam’s voice bellowed through the comm immediately. “Cruz!”

“Yeah. We need assistance. Don’t know coordinates, but we’re about ten miles away from the attack site. A small resort, private, exclusive.”

“Got it, man. Ace and Saint are with me. I’ll figure out the location, and we’ll get there stat.”

“Good.”

“Cruz…” Sam said, and Cruz could hear the question in his voice.

“She’s fine,” Cruz said, turning his eyes toward Nola.

“Cool,” Sam said, sounding relieved.

He disconnected and then went to Nola. “The guys are on the way and will be here soon.”

Nola glanced at him, and between her shivers and the flatness in her eyes, he couldn’t interpret what she was thinking. Feeling. He pulled her close, holding her soft curves against him, trying to transfer some of his heat to her. Her shivers slowed, but not enough for his comfort, and Cruz pulled back, grabbed her stiff-fingered hands, and headed toward the bathroom.

“This is nice, isn’t it?” he asked once he’d flipped on the light.

It was, the marble inlay, rosewood and teak furniture, and huge eight-person shower, one of the nicest he’d seen. But even on his best day, Cruz didn’t care about interior design. He knew he felt compelled to speak, babble like an idiot if necessary to get some response from Nola, to know she was here with him, she hadn’t been lost.

He turned the water on full blast and then, without bothering to remove his shoes and clothing or hers, pulled her into the large shower and closed the clear glass door. The glass fogged immediately, and Cruz felt his own chill receding as the steam built. But Nola’s lips were still blue-tinted and her body stiff, so he sat her on the bench in the corner of the shower and kneeled in front of her.

Cruz rubbed her fingers between his until the stiffness faded and she began to wiggle them. Then he moved to the other hand, watching her intently, feeling huge relief once the blueness had completely faded and her skin again glowed healthy brown.

The water had matted her thin braids to her head and face, but Nola didn’t seem to mind. He plucked leaves and twigs out of her hair and when she smiled slightly but enough he couldn’t miss it, his relief intensified.

He dropped her hands and turned his attention to her feet, grateful Sam had been smart enough to secure boots for her before they’d set off. Even the nicer sneakers that she’d worn wouldn’t have helped her out in the jungle, so though her calves were marked by vine lashes, her feet were probably okay.

That was confirmed when she pulled the boots off, but though they were unmarked, Cruz reached down to grasp them to make sure they were warm.

“You like that?” Cruz said when a corner of Nola’s mouth perked up again.

“I could get used to it,” she said.

Her voice was muffled by the flow of the water, but Cruz thought she sounded more like herself. Remarkable given what she’d been through, but then again, Nola had already proven herself remarkable so many times in the short period of time he’d known her.

He kept his gaze on hers, enjoying her now serene expression, and then he moved his hands up and massaged her solid calves and then traced his fingers at the back of her knees, which made her shiver, even though his touch was muted by her clothing.

When he reached her waistband, he opened the button of her pants. “Lift your hips,” he said.

With a soft sigh, she complied, and Cruz slid her ruined pants and underwear down her legs and cast them aside.

Seeing her like this excited him, but that excitement was secondary. Right now, he needed to take care of her. So he pushed aside the arousal that had him almost light-headed and focused on his task. He moved his fingers up and lifted the equally ruined T-shirt off and away, which left Nola in nothing but her bra.

The wet white satin contrasted beautifully against her skin, simultaneously sweet and sexy, uncomplicated at first glance but so much more than met the eye. Just like Nola.

Her nipples puckered under his gaze, and Cruz couldn’t stop himself from rasping his fingers across the tight buds and then filling his hands with her succulent flesh once he’d pulled the wet bra off her. He could have stayed there forever, touching her, watching her watch him as he touched her.

She grimaced when he stood abruptly and left the shower. After he quickly discarded his clothes, he returned to her, the warmth of the steamy water nothing compared to the heat between them. Or the exposure he felt. They were both bare, but Cruz felt
bared
, naked to Nola in spirit as much as he was in body.

It was fleeting, he knew, couldn’t last outside of the insane circumstances that had brought them together. But that didn’t matter now. All that mattered was being with her in this moment. He’d grabbed a thick sponge, and he gripped it tight and moved to Nola.

As he stroked her with the sponge, she stroked him with her hands, her touch that mix of shyness and boldness and sweetness that was pure Nola. And then she moved closer, her rounded thigh brushing against the top of his engorged cock.

Need seized him, but as much as he wanted her, and he wanted her very, very badly, he wanted to take care of her even more. It seemed she had other ideas.

“Nola…”

The word came out as a moan, a whisper, a prayer as she fisted him and slid her hand along his shaft, moving slowly, deliberately, the hot water that streamed down his chest and the precum that leaked from his slit aiding her strokes.

He dropped his hands and released the sponge when, hand still wrapped around his shaft, she moved closer, pressed her soft lips against his collarbone. Trailed them down his pec, licked at his nipple with sharp little swipes.