Ultimate Escape (5 page)

N
ola gaped
, looking at him as if he had two heads. It was so adorable, he wanted to kiss her.

“Sightseeing?” she repeated, shaking her head in disbelief.

He snorted out a laugh and nodded slightly.

“So I’m likely a fugitive wanted for murder by the police and for who knows what by God knows who else, and we’re going to go sightseeing?”

“Yep.”

“That’s the worst fucking plan I’ve ever heard.”

He barked out a laugh at the little
O
of surprise that shaped on her mouth.

“Don’t sweat it, Nola. You’ve earned a bad word,” he said.

“I’ve earned at least two,” she replied as she grabbed the bread again, which made him laugh harder. “So why are we going sightseeing?”

“We’re not. I’m taking you straight to the safe house until we get this figured out.”

“So… Why…? Argh…!”

Cruz easily dodged the
banh mi
that sailed in his direction and laughed again. “Those are good. Don’t waste them,” he said.

“I’m glad you find this funny, but you’re not the one whose ass, I mean bottom, is on the line here, Cruz,” Nola said.

He sobered then. “You either. I promise, Nola, I’ll get you out of this.” He held her gaze with his, hoping she could understand how serious he was. After a moment he grinned. “But that was pretty funny. I thought you were going to pass out.”

“Ha-ha,” she said, turning back to her plate, “I’m glad my life-or-death struggle amuses you. But just because I’m going along with this, don’t think I won’t make this as hard as I can for you if you push me. And what’s your full name? I need to know it for the hex I’m putting on you and all your progeny.”

He snorted. “You’re too nice for that. I can tell. And I’m Duarte Cruz from Seattle.”

She stopped and looked toward him. “Duarte?”

“Yep. It means ‘guardian’ in Portuguese.”

She nodded and then eyed him warily.

“Well, Duarte Cruz, I hope you live up to your name because I’m trusting you with my life.”

“You’re doing a heck of a job showing me the sights for this not to be a sightseeing trip,” Nola said a little after they’d set off.

“It’s not, trust me. I wish I could transport you in a tank, but that’s not an option, so I have to make the best of it,” Cruz said, scanning the crowd around him.

He didn’t like this, not even a little, but he needed to get Nola to the opposite side of the city, and with traffic, that could take hours, hours that would leave her exposed. By foot was the best way.

“I—” She stopped and jumped back, moving out of the path of a cyclo that zoomed past them and began weaving between the slower-moving cars and buses.

Cruz, who was already close, moved closer and put his arm around her shoulder. “Watch out,” he said, squeezing her tightly for a second.

She huffed a sigh of frustration and then seemed to wilt before him, eyes wet with tears.

“Nola,” he said, capturing her gaze with his own, “I’m with you, and I’ll get you there. Let’s go.”

He slid his hand down her arm and rested his fingers atop hers. After a heavy pause, she lifted her hand and settled it in his. Her fingers were small, delicate-feeling in his, and he couldn’t stop himself from imagining them trailing across his body. Cruz shut that down as fast as he could, and lifted his mouth into a quick, and hopefully comforting, smile. She returned it, hers tentative, unsure, but streaked through with threads of hope.

Cruz wouldn’t let her down.

He squeezed her hand, and then they again set off.

They walked at a fast but not too fast clip, Cruz keeping her hand in his as he scanned the crowd. He’d known they would stick out at least a little, but Cruz wanted to blend with the tourists and crowd as much as he could, so he couldn’t move too hastily, tried to keep up the front of two Americans out for a visit.

But every second they spent outside had him on the edge.

“It’s very impressive, and so much different than home,” Nola said, breaking into his thoughts. Her usually quiet voice was raised because she had to speak loudly to be heard over the crowd. Her eyes were bright, some of the tension and stress that had crowded her eyes fading, even if only slightly.

“Different from anywhere,” he said as he guided them through a narrow street. “What do you think so far?” Cruz asked.

“Circumstances aside, it’s pretty incredible,” she said.

But she wasn’t paying attention to him, instead watching one of the card games that was taking place in a shop entryway before moving to the coconut vendor who dragged a bundle of fruit down the crowded sidewalk.

Good.

He wanted her to be as comfortable as possible, and if the excitement of the city distracted her from her plight, he could stay sharp and on the lookout until they reached their destination.

They were getting closer, but Cruz wouldn’t relax until they were where they needed to be.

“Nola, do you want to—”

An unmistakable
boom
drowned out his words.

N
ola heard
the loud sound and the others that followed it and turned toward the noise. But all she saw was the crowd scattering, the group descending into chaotic screaming and running.

She squeezed Cruz’s hand and stared at him, confused, but he was not. As he’d been at the hotel, an icy calm seemed to overtake him, and his face was set in a determined mask. His gaze swept over the crowd, and then he moved.

But Nola was stuck, confusion and fear sealing her feet to the ground. Not even when another series of small booms sounded, closer than the last, did she move.

“They’re shooting at us, Nola, and we have to move. Now.”

Cruz spoke calmly as if this was an everyday occurrence, which for him it might have been. But when he clamped his hand down around hers, she felt his urgency, and it snapped her out of the haze that had cocooned her. He started to run, pulling Nola behind him. She kept up as best she could, his hand tight around hers, and the whizz of bullets buzzing past her leaving her no choice but move forward. Despite all evidence to the contrary, she’d lulled herself into thinking this wouldn’t be so bad. A grave error on her part, she saw now.

“Oh!” she exclaimed.

Chips of concrete from the building that they ran past shattered off and Nola jumped and grabbed her cheek.

When she felt warm stickiness coating her fingers, she ran harder.

Fuck! Fuck!

He’d fucked up. He hadn’t thought that whoever was after Nola would come to such a public place, but he’d been mistaken, and now he and Nola were running for their lives.

The safe house was a couple of miles away. He would have made it easily on his own, but there was her to consider. He turned to her, noted the smear of red on her cheek, saw eyes wide with the terror that had only so recently left them.

Their pursuers seemed to be falling behind, the swarming crowd making the approach difficult. This was their chance. He ran faster and then ducked into a side street, pulling Nola behind him as he ran through even more card games, ignoring the vendors who called to them. And Nola kept up, but he knew she wouldn’t be able to keep up the pace indefinitely.

“It’s not too far,” he called back to her.

She nodded, and breathed deeply, chest heaving with exertion, face wet with sweat. But she didn’t stop moving. With each step, Cruz anticipated more bullets, but none came. Still, he didn’t slow, didn’t even think about it, wouldn’t until they’d reached their destination.

When he spotted the building, he finally slackened the pace, but stayed alert for any sign of trouble. He didn’t see anything, the sleepy neighborhood typical of the apartment blocks assigned to midlevel Communist Party and military officials. In fact, it was almost idyllic, and Cruz hoped it would hold.

Using the key that Ace had left him, he entered the building.

F
or the second
time in as many days, Nola thought her heart might explode out of her chest. She’d never run that far, that fast in her entire life, had never had reason to. But the way she felt in those moments after they entered the apartment, she wished she had kept going. Maybe if she ran hard enough, long enough, she’d find a way out of this mess and back to her real life.

She’d been shot at.
Shot
at!

She cursed herself yet again for her foolishness. Ice-cold papaya smoothies and back massages and maybe a resort-sponsored hike had been on her agenda, and instead she’d gotten crazy soldier guys, dead bodies in her hotel room, not to mention being shot at! Clearly, the universe was trying to tell her something, the first message being that she couldn’t trust her judgment.

Seven years with Carl, gleefully oblivious to the joke that was their relationship. Then, her stupid brain had told her to branch out, see the world, live! And here she was, lungs burning with exertion because she was running for her life from a band of gun-toting killers.

“Nola.”

The gravely whispered word drew her attention to Cruz, and rage strong enough to shake down the building erupted through her.

His eyes widened slightly, and she wondered what he saw. A rage-filled woman intent on taking out some of her frustration on whoever was closest? A meek, pathetic rat who’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time? But the other part of her, the part that was making it possible for her to keep a hold on the last vestiges of her sanity, didn’t give a shit. Because this was all his fault.

Nola wasn’t prone to violence, couldn’t recall the last time the impulse had struck her, not even when Carl had discarded her like last week’s trash. But Cruz with the slight strain of worry and sympathy on his otherwise-calm face, inspired near-homicidal rage. She clenched her fist, ready to strike, and pictured her hand connecting with that chiseled jaw.

Quick as a viper, Cruz approached and grasped her hand, his bulky form towering over her, intimidating enough to make anyone sane cower. But sanity had left the minute Nola had switched seats on that damned airplane.

“Don’t touch me!” she screeched, trying to pull her hand from his iron grip.

“You’re not hit, are you?” he asked, voice so soft it was as if it was threaded through with satin. As he spoke, he used his other hand to grip her face and swiped at the scratches on her cheek, seemingly oblivious to the way she struggled.

“Take your hands off me!”

He didn’t respond, and instead stroked her cheek yet again, then captured her gaze with his own. The softness and concern she saw there was her undoing. How dare he look at her like that, like he cared? He had no right, not when he’d done this to her.

The rage spiked until Nola thought she would pass out. She tugged, trying to free her hand, but his grip didn’t slacken, and before she could even think to strike out with her other, he’d grabbed it too, trapping her.

“It looks like you got a couple of scrapes from shrapnel,” he said, the easy tone of his voice completely at odds with his tight hold on her hands.

“Let me go, Cruz,” she said. She wanted to scream, wanted to cry, but she couldn’t do either, didn’t think she’d be able to stop if she started. But the rage, she could focus on that. It would ground her.

“Nola, I know how you feel, but you’re safe, okay? Just hold it together a little longer for me.”

His voice was even softer now, and the words, earnest and brimming with conviction, and so soothing that they flowed over her frayed nerves like a caress, made her want to fall into them, were almost enough to make her forget that she’d been shot at.

Almost.

“Get your hands off me!” Nola exclaimed, pulling against his grasp with all her might, not recognizing the voice that came out of her mouth.

Cruz recoiled, his eyes widening, but his grip didn’t loosen. She tugged even harder this time, her body quaking with the effort, her frustration rising with each breath.

“So this is what you do! Almost get me killed and touch me when I ask you not to!”

He abruptly let go, and she ignored the cold feeling that came over her at the loss of his touch and instead stayed focused on that rage.

“Come on. Let’s get this over with,” he said, his voice unreadable.

“W-what does that mean?” she asked after the momentary shock passed.

“Exactly what it sounds like,” he said. “Punch me, yell, do whatever. I need you focused, and if hurting me, or trying to, anyway, is going to get your head back on straight, let’s go.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, emphasizing how massive it was, how solid he looked. She curled her fist, torn between excitement and fear. She lifted her hand, ready to release at least some of the rage that still flowed through her like lava.

And then she waited.

And waited.

She dropped her hand, and when her fist slapped against her thigh, the contact set off a shock wave of tremors. They rolled through her body, and she worried that she herself might fall apart.

Cruz hadn’t looked away, didn’t even seem to have blinked, and Nola could see the concern in his face, the way his expression morphed into sympathy. But she couldn’t stop shaking, and Cruz’s face faded behind the blur of tears that sprang into her eyes.

“No. Don’t do that,” he said.

He cupped her face with his big hands, but still the tears fell, and Nola didn’t think they’d ever stop. Rough thumbs stroked along her cheeks, catching the tears as they rolled down her face.

“Nola, it’s okay. I have you,” he said, his voice a husky whisper.

“Y-you… It… I…” Nola tried and failed to speak around the gasping sobs that shook her frame even more.

He dropped his hands to her shoulders, squeezed them, and held her gaze with his.

“I’ll take care of you,” Cruz said.

“Y-you…”

“Nola!” he said.

His stern voice shocked her into stillness, and when her eyes cleared, she took in the harsh set of his face, the resolve there. She focused on that, used it as the center that had escaped her when her rage fled.

His blue eyes, so incongruously warm, held hers, and as she watched, she saw desire flare in them. Her body told her to move, but her mind made her stay still. She’d been so wrong about everything…surely this couldn’t be any different.

Minutes ago, she’d been threatening him with violence. It was silly to think that he wanted her now, would want her ever. So no matter how much his eyes seemed to say different, Nola wouldn’t trust what she saw; she had gotten herself into enough trouble already.

He moved his thumb across her cheek and then scraped her lips. His thumb was rough against her lips, and Nola was seized by the unshakable need to feel that roughness against her tongue. She parted her lips and pushed her tongue out, swiping it across the digit.

The rasp against her tongue, the salty flavor that exploded across it sent a spike of desire through Nola that settled between her thighs. And with that single swipe, the rage, fear, disorientation of the days scattered, and all that was left was the boiling need that this man had set loose.

She closed her lips around his thumb and sucked it inside her mouth, desperate for more of his taste and feel. As she swirled her tongue around it, she kept her gaze on his, watching as the warm blue of his eyes turned molten, saw the lines around his mouth deepen, his nostrils flare with his exhaled breath.

Nola had never been this brazen, but the change she saw in him made her toss any reserve that remained into the wind. She sucked even harder, but then, with a low groan, Cruz pulled his thumb away, leaving her mouth empty.

But not for long.

Less than a second later, he covered her lips with his, his wet thumb against her cheek as he gripped her face. She felt the tension in his hold, the urgency, and the part of her that wasn’t completely consumed with the sensation of his warm, masculine lips against hers marveled at the fact that she’d inspired it in him.

The kiss started hard, but then he eased off, moving from strong, possessive swipes to gentle, eating kisses. Nola heard a low moan and belatedly realized it was her own. She’d never heard that sound or one like it from herself, amazed one kiss from Cruz was enough to draw it.

The next moan died in her throat when Cruz pushed his tongue into her mouth and brushed it against her own in strong, sure strokes. Seeking purchase, Nola grasped his shoulders, her fingers gripping the strong, bunched muscles. She needed more, so she moved closer, crushing her breasts against his strong chest, the vibration of his strong heartbeat echoing against her breastbone.

Clenching her thighs tight in an effort to calm the insistent pulse that throbbed between them, Nola let her hands roam across Cruz’s broad back and down his tight flanks. She felt his lips curve against hers and smiled when he mirrored her movements, sliding his hands over her shoulders, down her sides. But unlike her, he didn’t rest his hands on her waist. Rather, he walked his fingers up the curved stomach to cup her breasts.

She broke the kiss and panted out, thrusting her breasts out so that they filled his hands. His chuckled-out breath brushed her neck and left a wave of goose bumps along her sensitive skin. Her nipples puckered tight and pressed into his palms, and Nola twisted, moving her body so that her buds moved against him.

A broken sigh fell from her, and Nola’s heart pounded ever harder. It had so many times before, but instead of fear, it now pounded with a desire that took her breath away.

“Cruz…”

The word was a question and a plea, one that he answered. He released her breasts and then reached for the hem of her shirt. At the first brush of his warm, rough hands against her hot skin, Nola arched against him and slipped her fingers into the waistband of his pants. She felt the crisp hair that covered his tight abs brush against her hands, but all focus and thought was lost when he unlatched the front clasp of her bra, exposing her breasts.

The cool air of the room brushed her tight nipples, but Cruz chased away the chill with his hands, filling his palms with the heavy weight of her tits. The thumb that had been so rough against her tongue now rubbed her nipples. The calloused skin abraded in the most delicious way, and unbidden, another deep, throaty moan emerged from her. It was needy, desperate, and Nola didn’t care at all. In the face of the desire he’d stirred, nothing mattered beyond having more of him.

But then his hands were gone, and Nola opened her eyes, ready to protest. Her gaze again met his, and she shivered anew, the intense hunger she saw there not allowing her to do anything else. But where Nola felt slow, clumsy with her desire, Cruz was fast, and moving with determined competence. He stepped far enough back to pull off his T-shirt, molten gaze glued to her.

Nola stood, shirt hiked up, breasts and stomach exposed, but she felt no hint of embarrassment or nerves. The only thing she felt was the ever-increasing need as he exposed more of his strong, solid muscles wrapped in golden skin to her greedy eyes. As he tossed his shirt aside, his biceps flexed, and before she could stop herself, she lifted her hand and traced the rounded bulge and then let her fingers graze down his pec, over his flat nipple, down his ridged stomach.

His muscles pulled tight as he lifted his arms and then pulled her shirt over her head and then slid her bra down her arms. Then, quick as a flash, he leaned forward. Nola had never felt as much pleasure in her life as she did in these few moments, but nothing compared to the sizzle that raced up her spine when Cruz closed his hot mouth over her nipple and latched down.

He sucked at her flesh, and at the same time, he teased the puckered bud with his tongue and gently nipped at it with his teeth. The mix of sensations left Nola in a foggy haze and again she reached for him, her anchor in the maelstrom. As he sucked at her flesh, his kneaded her back with strong hands and then drifted lower, gripping the globes of her ass. Then he moved his hands, fingers brushing over each of her belt loops until he met in the middle.

Nola, who’d been exploring his body with her hands, tracing and retracing every inch of his exposed skin, went still, need and anticipation twin surges in her blood. The pop of her button and soft snick of the zipper as he opened it filled her ears, and Nola, breath frozen in her chest, waited for the first touch of Cruz’s hand against her most intimate skin.

He pushed her pants down, and they fell to the floor and landed with a soft thud. Then, after he traced her full hips with his rugged hands, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties, two on each side. Nola squeezed his shoulders again and opened her thighs, and Cruz drew the thin panties down her thighs. She shivered as they fell and then again when he retraced the path back up.

When he reached her center, his fingers brushed the thatch of curls that covered her mound. Then he went lower and cupped her, his hand so warm and rough against her delicate sex. The moisture that had pooled at her core spilled over, and Nola clenched her thighs tight, trapping his hand between them. With a flick of his wrist, he pushed them open again.

Cruz lifted heavy-lidded eyes to meet hers, and as he did, he swiped one finger, then another across her slit, the motion smoothed by the cream that had seeped from her. Again and again he swiped, and with each move, her lower lips spread until she was fully open for him.

“Touch me, Nola,” Cruz said, his voice deep with need.

Nola knew what he wanted, and a spattering of the nerves that had been blissfully absent sprang up. But when she met his gaze again, they fled as quickly as they had appeared. She lifted her lips in a slight smile and let her fingers fall across the impressive hard-on that lay beneath his belt buckle.

She touched him now as she’d imagined doing on the shuttle, his ridged flesh against her palm, the fiery desire in his eyes making her bold. And as she touched and explored him, he did the same, swirling his fingers over her wet sex and her hard clit. Her breath came in heavy pants and tension coiled in her belly.