Free Fall (Elite Force #4)(12)
Author: Catherine Mann

“That’s what I’m hoping.” She leaped over another protruding root. “I can hardly believe you’re really here.”

“You sent for me,” Jose answered, eyes ahead, searching through the night.

That she had. Guilt scuttled around inside her again, like the lizard scrabbling up a tree trunk, but she knew she would do the same again.

“I wasn’t sure the message would be picked up.” She was careful to keep her voice low so Sutton wouldn’t hear the details. “I wasn’t even sure they would understand the message if it did go through.”

“They didn’t understand.”

“But you did.” She’d suspected and now she knew for sure. “Because of that time we slipped away to a hotel along the Nile River, and in the restaurant I blinked Morse code to get you to…”

“Proposition me. Yeah. Pretty much.”

She stumbled and he caught her elbow. She forced a smile. “Keep going. I’m okay.”

Not really. Three days of limited food and sleep deprivation was taking its toll, but she couldn’t give in. She couldn’t let her guard down for a second when even a racing ostrich could be dangerous.

“You can do it.” He slid his arm around her waist with the familiar ease of a lover. “One foot in front of the other, like the snowman in that kiddy movie.”

“With legs like melting snow.” She laughed on a gasp.

His arm went tighter, pulling her more firmly against his side, muscles moving against her in perfect synch. So familiar. So sensuous. “Do you need me to carry you?”

“No.” The pain of remembering how good it was with Jose was almost more than her exhaustion-stretched body could withstand. If he took her in his arms, she could well say something she would regret. “No need. I. Can. Hold. On.”

“You’re amazing, woman. Now let’s get the hell out of here.”

Had he brushed a kiss over the top of her head or was that just the heat of his breath, of his words? She was likely starting to hallucinate as her body gave out after all she’d been through.

Her side hurt from the pace. How far had they gone? A mile at least and she wasn’t carrying another human as Jose had done earlier and like Bubbles was doing now. Even as Jose helped her, he wasn’t even breathing heavy as perspiration sealed their clothes to their skin. His buddy Bubbles—the PJ with a fuzzy phobia—cleared the path ahead, Sutton bobbing unconscious again over his shoulder.

They pushed through more scrub brush, past a fat buffalo thorn tree that jutted at awkward angles as if desperately searching for a drop of rain. Deeper and farther they trekked. No sound of the helicopter. No sound of gunfire, just the faraway snort of animals—a rhino or buffalo maybe. And the sound of her labored breathing, the crunch of their footsteps.

Okay, her footsteps.

The two superhumans barely made a noise even as they charged ahead full steam. Their hard-muscled bodies moved in sleek stealth mode into nigh wrapping around them all like a humid blanket. Or was she losing consciousness? She gripped Jose’s vest tighter to anchor herself to his side, use him like a crutch.

One more step, she told herself time and time again.

Finally, they stopped.

She almost missed the fact she wasn’t walking anymore since the world seemed to be spinning. They were standing in a small clump of Acacia trees with twisted trunks. Branches spoked like an umbrella, creating a shadowy cave of sorts.

Bubbles slid his burden to the ground, then sagged back against a gnarled trunk, gasping for a second before he dropped to his knees beside Sutton. He shrugged out of his pack and pulled out medic gear.

The student was in good hands.

Stella pried her numb fingers from Jose’s vest and slid to the dusty ground. Sitting cross-legged, too tired to move, she allowed herself to look her fill at the man she’d thought she would never see again. With smooth efficiency, Jose gathered broken branches, snapping off longer ones to make shelter. He showed no signs of slowing, only his bloodied uniform and the streaks of sweat through his camo paint, testified to all they’d been through this evening.

Lean, with a whipcord strength, he had a runner’s body—a by-product of marathons he ran in addition to his special operations military training. He’d told her once he used intense running regimes to help him fight a drinking problem. While he’d been sober for five years, he still attended AA meetings and ran. And ran.

His body shouted health and vitality and pure sensuality. She’d wanted him the second she’d seen his angular good looks. She wanted to stroke her hands over his sleek black hair and test the texture between her fingertips.

Her eyelids grew heavy, and so easily she could envision just falling asleep, knowing he would keep her safe. But damn it, she had to pull her weight for as long as she could. She had a job to do and she’d already asked too much of Jose today.

She struggled to stay conscious a few minutes longer. “We’re camping here? What can I do?”

“Nothing for now. We’ll only be here for tonight. The beacon on my tracker will bring help as soon as it’s safe—hopefully by morning. Meanwhile, we evade.” He dug into his survival vest, plucked out another protein bar, and pitched it to her. “The best way you can help is get your strength back up.”

Her mouth watered. She didn’t have to think twice about the wisdom of this. She tore open the wrapper with her teeth and bit into the nutty chocolate bar. Forcing herself to chew slowly, she swallowed down the first bite and resisted the urge to gobble the thing whole.

Even with the protein bar earlier, she had a long way to go before she felt full again. “What about your headset? Is it working at all?”

“It cut out completely just after the explosion.” He used fishing twine from his vest to tie three limbs together into a tripod tall enough for a small lean-to.

“But you touched your ear and said we needed to run. I thought you got instructions…” She shook her head, trying to piece together those crazy few minutes after the land mine blew, how he’d said something about the headset shorting out. “Bubbles? Is yours working?”

“Nope.”

Stella gripped her head in frustration. “Would you care to elaborate?”

“Nope,” Bubbles answered.

Sutton propped up on one elbow, scrubbing a hand over his groggy face. “I would hate to be stranded on a deserted island with him.”

Still, it was beyond incredible they’d gotten out of there at all. She looked into Jose’s deep brown eyes, the shade even darker chocolate in the night. He reached to clean the nick on her neck from the guard’s knife earlier. She’d forgotten in the harried drive to escape.