Cold Day in Hell (21 page)

“Oh, I’ll do more than ask nicely, sweetheart.” He’d kiss her until she’d let him do whatever he wanted, and what he wanted, but couldn’t act on while they were surrounded by danger, included more than looking inside the tote bag.

Chapter Eleven

Callie helped Risto tie the dugout to the stilt legs of an abandoned riverside house they’d found on a small, side tributary. By staying away from the main channel, the hut on stilts was a safer bet than one on the main river shore. The ground surrounding the hut was saturated to the point there was a foot or so of water covering what in dry season would be a rocky clearing. With the boat hidden in the thick shore foliage and positioned next to the crude ladder leading to the hut’s entrance, it couldn’t be seen from the main tributary. To enter the single-room dwelling, all they had to do was climb from the boat right onto the ladder. No need to get their feet wet.

Risto climbed onto the ladder. “You can hand the packs to me and I’ll carry them up.

You’ll need both hands to climb. The ladder has some loose rungs.” She snorted and Risto laughed.

“What?” she asked.

“I love the little noise of disgust you make.” He winked. “It’s all cute and huffy.

Now, why the attitude, sweetheart?”

“Stop thinking of me as a super-model and start thinking of me as an over-grown tomboy. Since I can climb trees, I can make it up a rickety ladder with a pack on my back.”

“I’m sure you can, but with me here, you don’t have to.” He stepped off the ladder back into the boat and made his way to her. Tipping her chin up with a calloused finger, he looked into her eyes, then nipped her bottom lip. “I’ve wanted to do that all day. Every time you thought better about sassing me, you teethed your lip.” He licked the seam of her mouth until she let him in. His kiss went from zero to a hundred miles an hour in a split-second. She whimpered as her nipples budded and the crotch of her pants got wet. Her arms twined about his neck like kudzu on a tree trunk.

She wanted to stay in his arms forever, but … the boat rocked dangerously under her.

“Hey, hold my place.” He set her gently away from him, holding her until she found her balance and the boat stabilized. “We need to get situated before I can give you the kind of kiss I want.”

“Holding your place, gotcha.” Following his instructions like a good soldier, she handed him a pack after he climbed back onto the ladder. He ascended one-handed then tossed the bag into the little hut and reached for another pack.

Something had been eating at her since the early morning shower sex. “Will you want to collect on that blow job I owe you?”
God, nothing like blurting out every prurient
thought in your head, Calista Jean.
She looked anywhere but at him, not wanting to see his amusement at her embarrassment over talking so bluntly about sex.

“Oh hell, yeah … but not tonight. I’ll collect once we’re safe and have someone to cover our asses. We need to stay alert. I’d hate to get us killed just so I could get my rocks off.”

Callie felt all hot and achy at just the thought of taking him into her mouth and making him go crazy, of taunting the dominant male in him to claim her. Since he was concerned about potential danger and staying alert, she bet all she’d get later were some tame kisses—dammit. In only one day of knowing him, the man had seriously addicted her to his kisses and love-making—and upset her usual commonsense.

Risto stared down at her, a frown on his face. “Callie, you with me? Hand me the last pack.”

“Oh, sorry.” She leaned over and attempted to lift the last bag, a big black duffle.

“Um, what’s in this? Lead weights?” She used her strong leg muscles and lifted the bag to her waist, then juggled it until she got both arms under it. The boat rocked violently until she redistributed her weight properly. “Oof!” She lifted and offered the handle to Risto with trembling arms.

“Shit, I forgot how heavy it was. You okay?” She nodded. “No lead weights—just a sniper rifle, ammo for same, and another submachine gun and ammo for it—and some extra perimeter alarms.” He took the bag, one-handed, and easily lifted it into the doorway above him.

“Show off,” she muttered. She shook her arms out and then arched her back, both hands massaging her lumbar region.
Note to self—do more weight-lifting once you’re
home. Pilates and yoga ain’t hacking it.

Risto leapt the few feet from the ladder into the shallow water on the other side of the boat. “Here, let me make it better.” He waded to a point parallel to her position in the
piragua
and pulled her against his upper body as she remained in the boat. Her head on his shoulder, he rubbed her back and shoulders. She inhaled his musky scent of clean male sweat and the citrus-based soap they had used at Conn’s. She sighed, her aches and pains gone at his scent and his touch. Yeah, she was addicted to him all right. He was better than muscle relaxants and anti-inflammatories.

He kissed the top of her head then held her away from him. “Go on up. I made sure there were no nasty critters inside. I want you to pull out the sniper rifle and check it over, make sure it’s one you know how to use. It has two scopes, one for night-vision and another for thermal imaging. Set it up for night-vision, we’ll be using it for guard duty.”

“Okay. What are you gonna do?” She picked up her tote and slung it over her shoulders in preparation to climb the ladder.

“I’ll scout around the area and make sure we don’t have any two-legged neighbors.” He patted his backpack. “I’ll also be setting up perimeter alarms and some traps. And, if we’re lucky, I’ll find some fruit to supplement our supply and maybe snag a fish or two.

We can chance a small fire before it gets too dark since we’re not on the main channel of the river. I make a mean fish wrapped in plantain leaves cooked over an open fire.”

“Sounds yummy.” Risto lifted her from the boat then swung her over the marshy shore toward the ladder. He held her until she placed her feet on the rungs. She began climbing then stopped and turned her head. He was watching her just as she knew he would. “Give me a time frame.”

His eyes narrowed. “You don’t need a time frame. You sit and wait for me.”

“Unh-unh. Not gonna happen. Tell me when I need to start worrying.” She glared at him, anger boiling up so quickly she wanted to explode. “If you don’t come back within a reasonable time, I’ll start hunting—so give me parameters. What did you think I’d do if you never came back, sit here forever?”

Risto tossed his pack into the boat and waded toward her, fury in his eyes. He pulled her from the ladder. Her feet brushed over the water’s surface as he gathered her against his torso. A show of his manly strength and dominance. She snorted, and he scowled.

“I’ll be back. You’ll stay put.” He shook her gently. “And if … and I mean if …

something should happen and I don’t return by dark, you’ll use the damn sat phone and give Tweeter your status and GPS location. He’ll alert Conn who’ll come to get you. Got that?” He shook her again then returned her to the ladder, holding her until she grabbed the sides and had her feet set in place.

His controlled vehemence ratcheted her annoyance even higher. “Oh, I heard you.” She stared at him. Hooking an arm around the side of the ladder, she poked him in the chest, punctuating her words. “But it doesn’t make sense. You could be down with a frickin’ twisted ankle and I could do something about it. So … to keep me from going bonkers and coming to look for your macho-stubborn ass, you’ll promise to check back before full-dark. You can pick fruit while you’re scouting. I’ll fish.” She pointed to the trees near the hut. “Those are plantains. I can wade just as well as you can. I can pick leaves. I can cook. Got that?”

The last finger to his chest was grabbed. He engulfed her hand and pressed it over his heart. All his iciness gone, his eyes crinkled at the corners with suppressed laughter and something else. It looked a lot like lust. She glanced down and spied his monster erection outlined by his jeans.
Yep, definitely lust.

“Got it.” He leaned over and whispered a kiss over her ear. “By the way, sassy little spitfires get their asses spanked. Think about that while I’m gone.” He backed off. “Now get your adorable butt up the ladder. You can fish off the side of the hut just as the natives do. It’s safer. The alligators will be hunting for food this time of the day. I’m the only living thing who gets to take a bite out of you.”

She swallowed, hard. She had images of him feasting on her breasts and pussy, leaving little love bite marks on her skin. Every sexual organ in her body jumped up and shouted “hurrah” at the thought. “Got it.” She scurried up the ladder and crawled into the hut on her hands and knees. She turned to see him watching her, a superior male smirk on his lips.

“I’m in, okay?” She waved her hands in a shooing motion. “Go. Hunt. Do manly things. I’ll be here when you get back. The little woman, taking care of the home fires.” He shook his head. “Unh-unh, baby. I’ll take care of the fire and getting the plantain leaves for cooking the fish when I check back. If you haven’t caught anything, I’ll catch the fish also.”

The man thought she was a helpless idiot. She’d bow-hunted and skinned rabbits in North Carolina and deer in Minnesota. A little fishing then cleaning and cooking would be a piece of cake. She looked at the sky. “Aargh, men!” Risto’s shout of laughter echoed around the small clearing. She snorted. She should cut him some slack. After all, he didn’t know she could survive in the wild. She’d told him, but he needed to see it to believe it. She’d just have to prove she could carry her weight making camp. She might not be able to lift and carry seventy-five pound duffle bags or set perimeter alarms, but she could do this much and lighten his burden.

A quick glance around the hut showed her what she needed to know about the cooking possibilities. “There’s a small cooking area in here.” As if he didn’t already know, after all she’d sat safely in the dugout as he’d checked out the hut. “And decently dry fuel. I can start a small fire so the ashes are hot enough to cook anything
I catch
. Get me some plantain leaves now…” she stared down at him, “…so I don’t have to disobey your orders and get my dainty little feet wet.”

Risto’s lips twitched. “Yep, bossy, sarcastic spitfires get their asses spanked, too.” He splashed over to a plantain plant and picked some leaves, then brought them to her.

When she went to take the leaves from him, he held on to them until she looked him in the eye. “Any other orders before I leave, baby?”

“No.”

“Good. Now be an obedient little soldier and stay put.”

She saluted with the leaves still in her hand. “Sir, yes, sir!” Risto chuckled and lowered himself down the ladder using just his upper body strength.
Show-off.
“Callie.” His voice was sober, all laughter gone from his expression.

“Don’t let anything happen to you. If you need me, one single shot from the Ruger will bring me on the run.”

“Got it. Be safe. If you need me, a single shot will lead me to you, too. Don’t be a macho idiot. I can help.”

He shook his head as if he couldn’t believe she just called him an idiot. “I’ll be back, Callie. Trust me.” It wasn’t a question but an order.

Dammit, had he heard the fear she thought she’d hidden under all her brave talk? Not the fear of being left alone as he probably thought, but her real fear, that something would happen to him and she wouldn’t be there to help.

“Marine, I’ve trusted you since the first second I met you. But shit happens—and you need to learn I can be counted on in a crisis even if I’m scared. Even if I’m thrown into a situation I’ve never experienced before.” There she’d said it. Trust was a two-way street.

“You’ve already proven yourself. But, for my peace of mind, I need to know where you are. I need to know you’re as safe as I can make you. And, I need to be in control of what is controllable. Unfortunately for you, you’re the only one I have power over in this jungle.” He saluted and melted into the jungle so quickly she lost him immediately in the layers of dark green shadows and the misting rain.

She shivered. It was as if the jungle was alive and had swallowed him whole. She thought she’d known what to expect on this excursion. Some of the swamps and marshes around Camp Lejeune and other areas her dad had taken them to camp and practice survival skills were pretty dense and rough. But the rainforests of this area of Colombia had them all beat. And, she couldn’t imagine the terrain getting worse, but as they travelled down the river, Risto had told her stories of him and Trey Maddox hunting in the Darien Gap toward the mountainous Panamanian border. Their quarry had been a small squad of leftist guerillas, a splinter group who’d broken away from a larger group and were only in it for money and the joy of killing and terrorizing. SSI’s clients had been a small group of foreign businessmen who’d invested in banana plantations in the region. Their farms had been harried by the group. Some of their workers were killed and some of the workers’ wives, taken.

SSI’s job had been two-fold: to get the women back and eliminate the small band of terrorists. They had, but the look of hell in Risto’s eyes had told her the real story—it had been grim, deadly and dangerous work. In the Darien, nature was more dangerous than even the human element and the human element here was often the dregs of society. His eyes had also promised nothing bad would happen to her if he could prevent it. The man had a surfeit of responsibility. Control or no control, he needed to learn to share burdens.

Callie set about making the small hut a little bit more comfortable. She laid out the sleeping mats, placing them next to each other, and then hung the netting she’d found in one of the packs over them from a hook in the ceiling she imagined was there for just that purpose. Finding fishing line in one of the survival packs and a hook, she used a small piece of fruit for bait and hung the line out the window on the tributary side.