To the Brink (10 page)

Ethan was on board with them—until he zeroed the glasses back in on Darcy and his heart started slamming around in his chest again like machine-gun fire.

God, look at her.

She was exhausted.

She looked bruised. And so damn beautiful he could barely breathe.

Her white T-shirt was filthy and torn. Her khaki shorts were caked with mud. And there was blood. On her bare arms, on her legs. On her poor feet that had taken a beating on her forced march through the jungle in little more than soles held on with thin straps of leather.

Yet no matter how bad she looked, the other woman—
Jesus.
He didn't even want to think about the hell the other captive must have gone through.

She lay dead still on the ground, her head on Darcy's lap. Not moving, barely breathing.

Darcy appeared to be keeping guard over her. That was Darcy, he thought grimly. She'd look out for someone else long before she'd take care of herself.

Like the other captive, Darcy's hands were tied in front of her. Her eyes were closed. She was so still he knew she was dozing—until an AK-47-wielding thug walked over to her and kicked her feet.

Her head snapped up and she almost toppled over. The woman jumped with a scream and Darcy quickly leaned in close to her, murmured something fast, over and over until she finally quieted and inched closer still to Darcy.

Ethan clenched his jaw, felt his muscles tighten with the need to spring into action and hurl himself at the sonofabitch who dropped a canteen at Darcy's feet.

A hard hand on Ethan's shoulder held him steady. He didn't have to look to know it was Dallas. He
did
have to take a deep breath to get it back under control.

The slightest move could have revealed their position—and he'd almost blown it.

If he'd gone with his gut, he'd be with her now. Yeah, he might have taken out a few of the bastards before they'd killed him. And then they'd have killed Darcy. Probably Dallas and Manny and the other hostage, too.

No. Now was not the time. This was not the moment.

He cut a glance at his brother. Nodded that he was okay. That he was in control again. And then he set his mind to the task.

He had to make this impersonal. Make it a job. Extraction. That was the goal. Darcy was the target. And he wouldn't think about the bruise on her cheek. Or the way she gently helped the other hostage drink before chugging down her own share of water like she hadn't had any in a month.

And he wouldn't think about the blood—
God damn the blood!
—on Darcy's pale skin.

Deep breath

Clear head.

He was a machine. He was on a mission.

And he would not fail.

Like he'd failed Darcy and their marriage.

Ignoring the way his stomach dropped at the reminder, he gave Manny and Dallas a hand signal to withdraw.

As silently as they'd arrived, they crawled on their bellies, backing away.

It was 1900 hours. A couple of hours yet until dusk. They would wait. They'd firm up their plans, then take turns snagging quick combat naps. Then they'd set the field in preparation to go in at dawn and catch the terrorists off guard. Given the one-to-ten odds, the best thing they had going for them was the element of surprise.

The worst thing going against them was the other hostage. They couldn't leave her, but damn—one of the reasons Special Ops worked in small teams was mobility. Fewer boots on the ground made for fast, unobserved movement.

He'd known Darcy might slow them down. But this other woman—who knew if she could even walk? Guess they'd soon find out.

Five meters to his left, Manny made his way through the jungle like a panther stalking prey. He moved with the stealth and efficiency he'd learned alongside Ethan in the rain forests in northern Peru.

That was back in the Contra days when the covert budget was mostly funneled into Central America. Ethan and Manny and others like them had been pulled out of Honduras and deployed under the few-and-far-between doctrine in South America.

Yeah. They'd been few and far between then just as they were today. It hadn't stopped him from doing his job then. It wouldn't stop him now.

Only when they'd retreated a full two clicks away from the terrorist encampment did they regroup to plan their extraction strategy.

"So—life's just full of complications, eh?" This from Manny.

Yeah,
Ethan thought, knowing Manny was thinking about the other hostage.

"Wouldn't have wanted this to be too easy," Dallas said with a grim smile as he shrugged out of his ALICE pack.

"Here's how I see it going down," Ethan said, and laid out his plan.

Fifteen minutes later, each man knew his role and his assignment. Pared down to the most basic elements, Ethan would snag Darcy, Dallas would grab the other woman, and Manny would do what Manny did best. He'd cover their six when the hell that was sure to break loose did.

"I'll take first watch," Manny said. "Go ahead and catch some z's."

Ethan shook his head. "There's something I have to do first."

Dallas's look stopped him as he checked his Beretta, then reholstered it.

"I'm okay," Ethan assured his brother and Manny, who were both watching him carefully. "I've just got to let her know we're here. In the meantime, see if you can raise Nolan. Let him know we've found her. Tell him we had to extend an additional party invitation for the extraction."

Dallas was already digging out his SAT phone.

"Make sure the GPS is working and establish some approximate time frames and coordinates on where he should pick us up. See if there's a more direct route out of here than the way we came in. Oh yeah—and make sure Nolan knows we'll probably be hauling ass under fire." He turned to leave. "I'll be back in a few."

"I'll go with you." Manny stood at the ready.

Ethan shook his head. "Not necessary."

Two dark scowls told him how uncertain both men still were of his control.

"I'm fine," he restated, and Dallas finally nodded. He understood. Ethan had to let Darcy know that he was here.

As he stole silently back toward the enemy camp, he told himself he was doing it for her. Told himself he couldn't let her think she was alone a moment longer.

The truth was, he was doing this for himself. He couldn't bear the weight of Darcy's anguish.

The look on her face when she'd been startled awake by the guard—aw God. It haunted him. She hadn't let the thug see her fear, though. But she hadn't been able to mask her despair. Not from him. And he couldn't leave her lost in it for one more moment than was necessary.

It was near dark by the time Ethan reached the terrorist camp again. Bellied down beneath a piece of deadfall, he tugged his boonie cap low over his forehead and watched for the better part of an hour, assessing the risk, developing a plan of action.

The tangos were sloppy. They didn't appear to be guarding against an assault. In fact, the only things they were guarding were the women, and they'd put a boy to the task. That would all work in their favor when the three of them returned to get the women out of there.

Finally satisfied with a course of action, he crept slowly closer. Moved with a stealth born in another jungle. A jungle where he had been the hunter and the men and the drugs they traded had been the hunted. A jungle where he had learned to become invisible and as silent as the earth. A jungle where he'd learned to kill and live with it

He still lived with it.

It took him an hour to move into position where he was close enough to give Darcy a signal. And while he waited for the right time, blending into a night that was as close as the guard who ran roughshod over her, he remembered another time, another place, where running had never been a part of her plan.

Chapter 8

LIMA,
  
PERU

EIGHT YEARS EARLIER

"I've got two weeks' vacation coming
. Spend it with me."

It was five in the morning. Predawn light, as soft as the breeze sifting in through the bedroom window, lay in a gentle arc across the bed and the woman by Ethan's side.

He'd just spent the most amazing night of his life. They'd made love all night long. Now she was lying in his arms, lean and spent and the softest damn woman he'd ever held.

And he was far too cognizant of the fact that Darcy Prescott was the first thing in a very long time that had compelled him to want to make anything but war.

Occupational hazard. Christ. He
had
been out in the jungle too long.

She yawned and gave a sleepy allover stretch, then nuzzled her face into his neck on a deep, drowsy sigh. "Hmm?"

"Spend some time with me," he repeated.

"Okay."

He tucked his chin, looked down at her. And chuckled. "
That
was easy."

Her eyes opened slowly—gorgeous green eyes that he loved to watch dancing with laughter, turning smoky with need when he came inside of her, or drifting, slumberous and misty, when she was gloriously and truly spent.

He didn't see any of those reactions now. Right now, her eyes were filled with a somber uncertainty.

"I'm not, you know. Easy," she clarified with a hesitance that told him how uncomfortable it made her for him to think that she was. "You're a first for me. I don't make a habit of falling into bed with men I hardly know. And I've never fallen into bed with a man I've just met."

He stroked a hand over the top of her head, loving the feel of her silken hair beneath his rough palm. He met her serious, serious eyes. "I know that. How could you possibly think I didn't know that?"

And he had known. For all her confidence and flirting, there had been an innocence to her responses, a wonder to her reactions, that had touched him deep, deep inside.

She brushed her fingers lightly along his chest, her touch tentative. He covered her hand with his.

"What's happening here, do you think?" she asked in a small voice.

He understood exactly what she was asking. It had happened so fast. The attraction. The emotion. The need. They'd both felt it. It was confusing as hell. Anyway, it had been at first. Not anymore. At least
he
wasn't confused.

He drew her tighter against him. If he had a velvet ribbon he'd tie her to him and never undo the knots.

Amazing. His life, his work, required solitude, fostered the need for it. For so long, he'd been alone. With his thoughts. With his actions. With a conscience that spoke out with far too little conviction as the years rolled by and the silent, secret battles faded to jobs well done. Hell, he didn't even have nightmares anymore.

And now this. After just one night he couldn't imagine what his life would be like without the amazing grace she'd brought into it. With her, he didn't have to be a soldier, a hunter, a killer. With her, he didn't have to be afraid for a life that could be over with the slightest drop of his guard.

To rot in an unmarked grave and decompose into rain forest loam.

With her, he could just be a man.

"Ethan?"

She'd asked him what was happening between them. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "That's what we're going to find out in the next fourteen days, okay?"