Cherry Adair - T-flac 03 (34 page)

"What's that?"

He tore into a small package with his teeth. "Pain patch."

"I don't ne—"

"Want a shot instead?"

"No," Delanie said reluctantly. God. She wished she'd shaved her legs.

"Now why are you scowling?"

Because despite everything she wanted to be smooth and clean and smelling wonderful when she was with him. Even if he was the most annoying man on the planet. "Do you have predator blood in you, or what?" she demanded. "How can you see in the dark?"

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"It's not that dark. I see you clearly, jungle girl. Very clearly indeed. Does this hurt?"

Ow! "No."

He laughed, then efficiently cleaned and dressed the wound. Which of course felt considerably better after the application of the patch. "Okay." He drew down her pant leg and twisted to close the lid of the first-aid box. "That should do it for now. Lie back and take a nap."

She missed the contact already.
Idiot
. "And what are you going to be doing?"

"Prepping for tomorrow. Sweet dreams."

Oh, sure
. Delanie flopped on her back and turned over to face the dark canvas wall inches from her nose. Well, to hell with him. If he didn't want to talk about it, then neither would she. She'd said her piece.

Fine
. Damn it.
Just fine
.

Eyes closed, she rolled over, scrunching her butt against the canvas to give him more room to do whatever it was he was doing.

Kyle was aware of every blink, every breath she took as he fieldstripped the weapons. Too damn frustrated to complete the conversation they hadn't concluded to his satisfaction earlier.

But they
would
get back to it, he promised himself, dismantling the last Uzi. The finish on the guns resisted rust, but he still wiped everything down with an oily rag, then ran a toothbrush along all operational parts, checking to see that springs were taut and magazines were clean to prevent misfire.

He glanced over to see Delanie watching him, her face pale. There were things that needed to be said.

Promises that needed to be made. And as much as he knew she was waiting for a response from him, his acrimonious little love was damn well going to have to learn a little patience.

Right now he had to focus on what had to be done in the next several hours. Extracting the knife he'd commandeered, he tested its sharpness before pulling his braid over his shoulder. He'd grown the damn thing for four years. Every inch had brought him closer to this moment. He cut through the braid with one swipe of the small, sharp knife. The loss of a yard of hair felt amazingly liberating.

A promise made and kept.

Delanie gasped. "I can't believe you just did that."

"I only grew it for the role." He finished whacking it off to shoulder length, then tossed the thick rope aside before finding the knife sheath in the bag beside him. He strapped the leather onto his forearm, then slipped the knife into the sheath like a homecoming.

Delanie sat up and retrieved the discarded length of his hair, twining it between her fingers. Kyle felt a ridiculous surge of lust, as if she were running those slender capable fingers over his body.

"I didn't thank you for hauling me out of Isabella's house." She glanced up to catch his eye. "I wasn't
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quick enough getting back to the bomb shelter. It was my own fault I got caught." She half shrugged. "I should have stayed there in the first place to wait for you." She absently caressed his braid, her hand sliding up and down the length. Slowly.

"Whether I could get back inside or not was immaterial. You were absolutely right to be angry with me.

I'm sorry, Kyle. I regret that my actions put you and your job in jeopardy. I probably didn't move as fast as I should have. I was pissed off. I'm not used to anyone telling me what I should or shouldn't do."

She gave a small self-deprecating smile that damn near broke his heart. "Actually, I'm not used to anyone worrying about me, one way or the other."

Oh Christ. Not now. They needed to have this conversation. Soon. But not now. This was neither the time, nor the place. Kyle wanted comfortable surroundings in neutral territory to say what he had to say.

"Then you'd better practice getting used to it," he said simply.

"It wasn't the best of scenarios," he added. "But it's done."

Delanie stared off into the distance for several moments. Rain pounded the canvas in the steady heartbeat of the jungle.

"After I find my sister, I'm going to do…
something
to Isabella." Her voice was fierce. "Something," she promised grimly, "of apocalyptic proportions."

"Revenge would be sweet," he agreed tersely, expecting and ignoring the suddenly mutinous expression on her face when she realized that wasn't going to happen. "However, the second my team gets here, you're going to be far away from Isabella Montero. Don't worry, I'll take care of her for you."

Her eyes were dark in her pale face and he saw her lips tighten for the inevitable rebuttal. "I can take care of her myself."

"I understand your need for revenge, and if it's possible I'll make sure she's gift wrapped and handed to you. A hell of a lot more than
your
damn wants and desires ride on the outcome tomorrow. I'm sorry as hell for what she did to you, but I can't allow you to get in the way."

"But—"

"Conversation closed." In a lightning-quick switch he asked, "Tell me where to find you when this is over."

She rattled off her address in Sacramento so fast, he knew damn well she didn't expect him to remember it.

She kept her eyes fixed on him. "Don't tell me you plan on seeing me again."

"Why not? I love you. No, don't give me that bull about not loving me back. I don't believe it. You love me, all right. You're just too stubborn to admit it."

He wanted to jump to his feet and pace, but he was damned if he'd go outside; the rain was now coming down in torrents. Frustrated all to hell, he settled for listening to his back teeth gnash and feeling the sweat stick his shirt to his skin.

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"Know what, jungle girl? I think I have this figured out now. Every time you refuse my help, and insist on doing it for yourself, you're putting out a challenge. You want me to
prove
to you that you can depend on me."

"That's ridiculous—"

"You want me to
show
you that no matter what, I won't walk away. Convince you how much I want you." He gave her a hard look. "Isn't that what this is all about, Delanie?" He made a move to toss the tail end of his braid over his shoulder, remembered it wasn't there, and snarled. "Every time we have a conversation, or make love, or look at each other, it's another way for you to test me. To see just how damn quickly I'll fail you."

"You don't know what you're talking about," she said tightly.

"Hell yes I do. Everyone has failed you, so you keep people at a distance. You're their judge, jury, and executioner. And everyone is set up to fail. That way there are never any nasty surprises because you always know the outcome, don't you?"

"Are you trying to analyze why I don't love you?" Once again she was listening without hearing.

"Damn it, Delanie, can't you see? I'm trying to make you understand that you've been hurting yourself.

Look at what you've done with your family. You've made them your whole existence. You enable them, not giving them the opportunity to stand on their own two feet. You're selfless in your devotion to them, and in doing so, you never give any of them the room to make their own mistakes."

"They need me." She tried to shift as far away as she could in the claustrophobically small tent.

"You enabled your mother, you overprotected your sister, and they ran like hell to get away from you.

Tell me how that helped either of them?"

"I love my family. I take care of them the only way I know how."

"And I bet there are more people who you take care of than your mother and sister. Why don't you give me the list so I can fully form the picture?"

"Why don't you go to hell?" she suggested sweetly. "Unless you have a psychiatry major somewhere in your long list of degrees?" She gripped his shorn braid in her fist.

"Who needs a degree? You're a textbook case. So? Who else do you have?"

Delanie shifted on the lumpy canvas floor. "My grandfather and aunt live with me. He has early Alzheimer's—it's not as though it's his fault!"

"And your aunt? What's her problem? One eye and a wooden leg?"

"She had a shattering divorce."

"And when was that?"

"Nine years ago."

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"Nine years? You were nineteen when she came to live with you?"

Delanie shrugged.

"So you're the one everyone in the family runs to when they need their problems fixed."

"Not everyone is self-reliant or strong."

"And who do you go to, Delanie? Who do you depend on to comfort you when life is crappy and things don't go right?"

"I make sure my life stays on an even keel, and I take care of myself."

"Must be nice to be so autonomous. Not to need another living soul. No woman is an island, you know."

"Philosophy, too? Boy, you're multitalented. What would you suggest?" she asked, voice calm. "Throw myself in your comforting arms because I have no one else? I don't need anyone, haven't you got that?

Holy Hannah! What do you want from me, Kyle?"

"Jesus Christ." He ran his hand roughly over his eyes. "What I want should be so goddamned simple. I want you to know instinctively that I would never do anything to cause you harm. I need you to trust me unconditionally. As automatically as breathing. You have to learn that loving someone doesn't make you weak."

"I don't
have
to do anything. And I trust you just fine."

"Bullshit. Part of this is because you've been smarting that I didn't contact you after the weekend in San Francisco, isn't it? I understand where you're coming from, but surely you can see now
why
. When I left you, it was to start this mission. It got more complicated than any of us expected."

"You should have told me what you were, what you were doing. Given me something to hang on to."

"And said what? I think I might be falling in love with you, but I'll be gone for four or five years, so please hang around and wait for me? We can talk about it when, or
if
, I get back?"

Kyle scrubbed his jaw and tried to unclench his teeth. "I was darkness to your sunshine, and frankly I wasn't sure what I'd have to offer you when this was all over. Or if I'd be in a position to offer you anything at all."

There was a long pause filled by the sound of saturated foliage dripping water into the puddles already formed on the ground.

"I had my own problems, Kyle," she said tiredly.

"I realize that now. Christ." He ran his hand over his face again. If only they'd taken the time to talk four years ago. How different their lives might have turned out.

How the hell was he going to get through to her?

She was so damn close he could feel the heat of her body and smell the elusive fragrance of her skin
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mixed with a healthy dose of clean sweat.

She needed loving, lots of it.

She needed to know she didn't always have to be the strong one. For once in his life Kyle struggled to find just the right words, words to penetrate her emotional blindness. Anything worth having was worth fighting for. He'd learned that truth a long time ago. His lips quirked in a rueful half smile.

Delanie was worth World War Three.

"Could you quit trying so hard to be a hard-ass for the next few hours?" he asked softly. "For now—at least until we have to leave here—could you just be who you really are?"

"Sure. Whatever."

The gates were going up. Kyle touched her cheek. Warm. Soft. "This isn't the time or place for this conversation. I've got something more constructive to do with our next couple of hours."

"Oh, you do, do you?" It obviously took an effort to achieve that tone. But she did it.

"Lie back and let me show you something," he said quietly.

She raised her eyebrows, and her pretty mouth turned up at the corners. "I've already seen it, thank you."

"Smart-ass. Close your eyes and let me show you how I feel."

Delanie ran her hand up his arm to his shoulder. "You feel terrific." She lowered herself to the tent floor, eyes dark as she watched his face.

"Close your eyes, woman. And don't move," he added.

Delanie dutifully closed her eyes. "At all?"

"For as long as you can stand it."

Delanie smiled slightly. "Wake me up when you're done, Tarzan."

"Ten bucks says I can make you move in the next five minutes."

She opened one eye. "Is that a dare?"

"Yeah."

Delanie stretched out her arms in fake supplication and shut her eyes. "Have at it, Valentino."

Kyle smoothed her bangs off her face. "Good girl."

Delanie snorted.

"Let's see… where are we?"

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"Sweating in a teeny-weeny tent in the middle of the jungle?"

"Whose fantasy is this?"

"Yours, apparently."

"Hotel room," Kyle decided, his breath warm beneath her ear. She hadn't realized he'd moved closer.

"Doesn't matter where. It's cool. The shutters are open. Can you feel the soft ocean breeze on your skin?"

Kyle's breath fanned her neck. He licked, then blew softly down the damp skin of her throat.

"Uh-huh."

"I want this to be slow. Can you understand that? I don't want to wait for a real bed…
can't
wait for a real bed. So use every bit of your imagination, jungle girl, and think of a king-size, with crisp cotton sheets. We're going for a slow, slow ride." He kissed the corner of her mouth, and she felt the jackhammer of his heart where his chest rested against her side.