Seduction Under Fire (8 page)

He rubbed his chin, nodding. “What time do we leave in the morning?”

“What?”

“I’m in. What time do we leave?”

“What do you mean you’re in? You’re not invited.”

“Have you ever driven off-road?”

“No, but—”

“I happen to be an expert at that. What time do we leave?”

Camille sighed. Of course the Golden Boy was an expert at off-roading. “Before dawn.”

Aaron returned her gun and walked away, toward the party and his nubile teachers.

“I don’t need you, Aaron,” she called after him.

He turned around and walked backward through the sand, wearing a hard smile. “Yeah, well, I don’t need you either, but here we are.”

* * *

The breezeless beach was heavy with moist, salty air as Aaron maneuvered the Jeep over the sand in the predawn darkness. “I’m going to retrace our escape route to make sure I can find the compound again.”

Yawning, Camille nodded her consent and ran a hand over the blue T-shirt and yoga pants she’d pilfered from Charlie’s stash of clothes the night before. Though still groggy, she had woken with no trouble, which was out of character for her. She was typically such a heavy sleeper that waking enough to drag herself out of bed was the most difficult part of her day.

Under the pretense of looking at the ocean, she studied Aaron. She liked him like this, not the arrogant rake he’d been last night, but a serious, focused man. She had the sinking suspicion she could spend many content hours studying the small wrinkles that textured his face and made him appear less debonair, more distinguished.

The sun punctured the hazy sky as Aaron turned west through a dry riverbed between the cliffs separating the beach from the desert. They drove away from the light and into the gray-black darkness of endless foothills, toward danger that left no guarantee of their survival.

“I called Jacob last night.”

Camille grinned. “Are Juliana and the baby okay? Is it a boy or girl?”

“A girl. Alana Rose. Jacob and Juliana are tired and worried about us, but everyone’s healthy and safe. With your dad’s police connections, Juliana’s hospital room went under immediate guard. They’ll move to the secure location my family’s at once they’re cleared by the doctors. Everyone’s pretty pissed about our choice to stay in Mexico, but Jacob agreed to overnight my passport and the purse you dropped in the hospital parking lot to La Paz. The package should reach the city by tomorrow morning.”

“That could be really useful. Thank you.”

“One more thing. I don’t think we should steal the Jeep. Charlie could contact Mexican authorities, and the last thing we need is to be arrested for grand theft auto. Ana offered to give us a lift this afternoon. She even suggested we spend the night at her place. I think we should take her up on it.”

Camille snorted. “Judging by the way you two were dancing last night, I feel safe assuming she wasn’t including me in her sleepover invitation.”

Ugh.
Why did she go there? She had about as much impulse control as a teenager.

Aaron rolled his tongue over his teeth. “I’m sure she has a sofa you can sleep on while she has her way with me in the bedroom. We’ll try to keep the noise down.”

Camille felt her face heat up and fixed her gaze on the foothills to her right.

“So...this is your first time in a foreign country?”

“Huh?” He made it sound as if they were on vacation.

“When I called Jacob, your sister said she didn’t think you had a passport. Is this your first time out of the U.S.?”

“Yeah. I’ve always wanted to travel, but I’ve never had the time.”

Aaron scoffed. “Never had time? That’s a bunch of bull. People who really want to travel make the time.”

“What a pretentious thing to say. I suppose you’re a world traveler?”

“I’ve been around. Still plenty of places I want to see, though. What else is on your bucket list besides travel? Any goals or dreams?”

“You mean, besides surviving today?” She shrugged. “The only dream I ever had was to be a cop. As far as goals, I’m a member of the hundred-mile club at my gym. You know, people who swim the equivalent of a hundred miles of laps annually.”

Aaron shook his head, frowning as if she’d given the wrong answer.

“Do my life choices offend you?”

“How old are you?”

“Just shy of thirty. How old are you?”

“Thirty-four. What about a boyfriend?”

“My love life is none of your business.” Not that she’d ever had a love life to worry about.

“That’s a no. Hmph.” His frown deepened.

“What about you? Anyone special waiting for you at home?”

“No—and that’s the way I like it. Monogamy’s not my gig.”

She chortled. “You’re going to end up being one of those pathetic middle-aged men with a showy sports car and a twenty-year-old girlfriend. You know that, right?”

“Sounds fantastic.” He ignored her conspicuous eye roll. “What about kids? Do you want to start a family of your own?”

“Why are you asking me all this stuff?”

“Answer the question, Camille.”

“I don’t know...maybe. But what’s the point in hoping for something that may never happen? I’m done talking about this stuff. I don’t appreciate what you’re doing.”

“What am I doing?”

“You’re compiling a list of how pathetic my life is.”

“I’m curious, that’s all,” he said.

“No more questions.”

“Fine with me. We’re getting close. Get your gun ready in case we run into any unfriendly search parties looking for us.”

Camille armed herself and scanned their surroundings. The landscape looked like all the other foothills they’d traversed in the past few hours, rolling slopes carpeted with tall cacti and short, scrubby-looking trees. Before this week, she thought she had a good sense of direction. Out here, surrounded by nothing but monotonous desert, she wouldn’t have stood a chance without Aaron’s help, not that she was going to mention it. She was still smarting from his cringe-inducing questions.

Aaron parked the car and lifted the weapon bag to the ground, where they finished prepping their guns. Each would approach the compound with a rifle and two pistols, carrying a grenade in one pocket and extra ammo in the other. Their goal was to sneak near enough to get descriptions and numbers on the cartel operatives.

Camille closed her eyes and took a moment to remind herself why she was doing this—for herself, for her family, for Rosalia.

Lips brushed hers, accompanied by the scratch of stubble. Her eyes flew open. Aaron’s brown eyes stared back, challenging her to resist his charm.

Or, possibly, to succumb to it.

Panicking, she tried to move away but Aaron maintained a firm hand against the small of her back. Evidently, all those muscles weren’t just for show.

She socked him on the shoulder but he was unfazed, pushing his lips to hers while he stroked her jaw, coaxing it to relax and open. She refused, but found herself wondering about his tongue. All she had to do was part her lips and she bet he’d show her exactly how masterful his tongue was. She shivered, thinking about that tongue, those lips, his stubble abrading the skin above her lip, every hard, solid part of him. To her mortification, her nipples hardened in response.

What a nightmare.

* * *

It was all that talk about bucket lists that made him do it. That coupled with the fact that in the past forty-eight hours Aaron had stared down his own mortality more than once. He’d obsessed for two straight years about kissing Camille Fisher and here she was before him, her eyes closed, her face turned skyward, her luscious lips calling to him. Any minute, they could die. So why not go for it while he had the chance?

Now or never, man. If you want that kiss, you’re just going to have to take it.

So he did.

And, good God, she felt better than he’d imagined, pressed to his body, even with her stubborn mouth refusing to yield. She raised her hand to his face, as if maybe she was trying to pry him away, but he knew she needed this moment of connection as much as he did. Taking her wrist in hand, he brought it behind her, tipping her back and thrusting her breasts against his chest.

Holy hell.

Then her mouth opened and he seized the opportunity to slip a finger between her parted lips, applying gentle pressure until—finally,
finally
—her mouth surrendered to his demand. Adrenaline coursed through him, leaving him breathless as he plundered the depths of her, demanding and exploring her warm, wet mouth. Memorizing the taste of her.

She slung an arm around his neck with a moan and something inside Aaron broke free. Crushing her supple, gorgeous body to his, he bowed her back even farther until they both teetered on the edge of falling.

* * *

When Aaron released Camille, he took a couple of swift steps back, probably fearful that she was going to knee him in the groin. Which she would have done had her legs not been so weak. She concentrated on staying upright and breathing. Keeping her eyes on Aaron, who seemed to be struggling toward that same end, a single, fleeting thought darted across her mind—she’d been right about his tongue.

As soon as she regained her composure, she shot him her best withering glare. “What the hell was
that?
”

“We might die at any time and I decided it would be nice to kiss you first.”

She grabbed her rifle from the weapon bag. “Don’t ever do that again.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She didn’t buy his easy concession for a second. The man looked about as remorseful as the Devil. He brushed past her, toward the peak of the hill. Still not sure her legs would carry her, she touched a finger to her swollen lips and watched Aaron walk. Then she realized she was staring at his perfect, firm backside. As if he were God’s gift to women.

As if.

With a snort of disgust, she jogged to catch up.

“That’s odd,” Aaron whispered from where he lay on the ground at the top of the hill, his eyes on the valley to the west.

“What’s odd?”

“No guard and no horses in the lean-to. In fact, I don’t see a single person.”

“Huh. Let me take a look.” She left a good five feet of space between them as she army-crawled into a surveillance position. “There aren’t any vehicles in the courtyard either.” The place looked like a ghost town. Camille’s hope disintegrated. Unbelievable. Could her luck get any worse? She kicked a rock and watched it tumble past the Jeep, down the hill.

“Let’s go in for a closer look,” Aaron said, his tone laced with disappointment. He blazed the way through a narrow canyon in tense silence.

They needn’t have been quiet, though. Camille felt the vacancy in her bones as she neared the outer wall. She confirmed it after Aaron boosted her to look over the wall at the empty courtyard. No satellite equipment, no vehicles, nothing.

The hole created by the grenade explosion dominated the scene and offered a strange, grotesque view into the house where none should exist, like an eye socket without an eye. Burned bits of bone dotted the courtyard. Whether they were scattered by scavenging animals or the initial blast was a forensic question beyond Camille’s knowledge set.

With their rifles ready, Aaron preceded Camille through the front gate. They opened the shed doors, then wandered into the house. The furniture had been left behind—sooty sofas in the living room, a scarred wooden table in the kitchen, unmade cots in the bedrooms. All the boxes had been cleared out of the weapon storage room.

Resolve—tenacious and angry—pierced through her disappointment, steeling her heart. Somewhere in this desert, a scared little girl needed saving. Camille wasn’t about to let anything, even this seemingly insurmountable complication, derail her mission.

Returning to the courtyard, she found Aaron staring at the ground behind the shed, at the burned remains of the guard he’d shot and another poor soul who’d been added to the pyre.

“This doesn’t change anything for me,” she said, determination hardening her tone. “It makes it tougher, for sure, but I won’t give up on Rosalia.”

Aaron didn’t say anything, didn’t even nod. He just stared at the corpses.

Camille strode from the compound. Though her bum leg ached, she pushed the quarter mile to the Jeep, hauling her body painfully over the steepest part of the hill as her adrenaline finally crashed. Damn, but her stupid leg was killing her. What she wouldn’t give to prop it up on a sofa, down some ibuprofen and sleep for a day.

When she reached the Jeep, she braced her hands against the dusty metal frame. Too many thoughts crowded her brain for her to sit patiently while she waited for Aaron. Shifting her weight to her good leg, she picked up her left foot and kicked the rear tire with a bouncy rhythm. The sizzles of pain felt good. Necessary.

Charlie’s clothes stash hadn’t included any sneakers and so she wore the dead man’s shoes today. She stared at them with disgust. Maybe she’d burn them tonight. Or throw them out the car window on the way to La Paz. Her first order of business in the city would be to buy herself an outfit or two. And she was definitely going to cut her hair.

She kept her eyes on her bouncing foot, affording Aaron’s boots only a nominal glance when they appeared at her side. When the minutes stretched on and Aaron still didn’t speak, she looked at him. Leaning against the Jeep, he watched her with a look that could only be described as sympathetic. As if she was a shelter dog or a beggar. It was illogical for him to feel that way because he was in the same boat as she was.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you pity me.”

“I do pity you.”

“You’re such a jerk.” She pushed off the Jeep and put some space between them.

“Let me explain.”

She whirled on him. “Do I have a choice?”

“That’s my point.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You haven’t had a choice in any of this.” His voice was firm, angry. “You were right last night, you know. Our number was up the second they took us hostage. We can never go home unless the cartel is miraculously destroyed. And here’s the part that really gets me—they weren’t even after you, Camille. You were literally in the wrong place at the wrong time. Like when you were shot. Wrong place, wrong time.”