Cold Day in Hell (23 page)

He brushed another kiss over her hair and smiled at her grumpy little murmur. He laid his head against the wall, pulled on the night vision goggles and examined the darkness outside their shelter. Nothing and no one would take him by surprise, not while he had Callie in his keeping.

Chapter Twelve

Rescue Day Three, somewhere along the Atrato River.

It would be another hot, rainy day. The only reason Callie knew it was near dawn was a slight lightening of the sky to the east and her watch. She let out another yawn and stretched her neck. She hadn’t realized how boring and tiring sitting watch was. She glanced at Risto who’d stretched out next to her and fallen instantly asleep several hours earlier. His dark eyes were open and his stare fixed on her, the only part of him completely alert. The rest of his body was relaxed. The man had less than four hours of sleep and he’d awakened himself by the internal clock Callie knew all special forces operatives were trained to use.

“Hey, you’re awake.”

“Yeah.” He sat up, a smooth movement, all controlled muscle, and stretched like a large cat. “Anything happening out there?”

“You’d have awakened if there had been.”

He nodded. “But I still would like to know why you think nothing has happened.

Consider it a test of sorts.”

“Okay.” She glanced through the netting which surrounded both of them; coated in an insect repellant, it had kept them from being eaten alive by mosquitoes. “It’s still raining. Some periods were fairly heavy. It would be difficult in the dark, even with night vision goggles, to maneuver in the weather.”

“That’s the brain talking. Now, tell me what your senses tell you.”

“The birds are making their usual greeting-the-day noises. I heard several night predators hunting. Three jaguars came from the forest to the water to drink. I heard the grunts of tapirs as they rooted nearby. And the howler monkeys just started to call to one another at the sun rising. If there were any humans out there, the animals would be silent and hiding.” She turned to look at him. “That do it?”

He pulled her to him. “Yes, you get an A.”

“What if I want something other than a letter grade?” She arched a brow and tentatively touched his bearded jaw with one finger, liking the scratchy roughness against her skin.

Risto smiled, a slow upward curve of his lips. He angled his head and took her mouth. He skipped any gentle exploration and demanded immediate entrance. She let him in and lost all sense of control from that second forward. His tongue swept through her mouth, touching every square millimeter, imprinting his taste, his claim upon her. She wanted to hold on to him, touch him, claim him back, but still held the sniper rifle, cradled in her arms between their bodies. All she could do was allow Risto to take what he wanted, give him the submission his will seemed to demand.

Breaking away, he held her upper arms, not allowing her to advance or retreat. His lips now touched hers gently, reverently. “That do it?” She nodded and licked her lips, tasting him. He groaned then sucked her lower lip between his. “I’m keeping count, baby.

For every lip sucking and teething, I’ll make you beg for release. We’ll be in bed for quite a while at the rate your teasing infractions are mounting up.”

“Doesn’t seem fair. It’s a habit and I can’t control it.” She rubbed her cheek against his beard-roughened one. “Plus, you tempt me—and I react. Do I get to make you beg also?”

Risto nipped her chin with his teeth. “Only if I let you—and I think I’d like how you’d make me beg.”

She smiled. “Oh, I can guarantee it.” She rested the rifle on her lap and freed one hand to massage his morning hard-on through his jeans. “I bet you taste good there, too.” He groaned and removed the rifle, placing it on the sleep mat on the other side of her, then pulled her fully against his body until her breasts rubbed his chest. “Please tell me you want me as much as I want you.”

“I want you. And when we’re safe, you can have me for as long as you want me.” Forever would be nice, but she’d take what he offered and use the opportunity to convince him this attraction between them was more than a result of propinquity and danger.

Risto nodded and allowed her to move away. Retrieving a bottle from his pack, he handed it to her. “Coat your skin with this insecticide before we get out from under the netting. We’ll eat some trail bars and some of the fruit, pack, then take a relief break and head out after I retrieve the perimeter alarms.”

Callie poured the DEET-infused lotion into her hands and coated her arms, legs and neck. She hated the stuff, knew it was dangerous if over-used, but it was about the only thing effective against the man-hungry, malaria-carrying mosquitoes. She’d worn the stuff even in Cartagena since the mosquitoes in the urban areas in Colombia often carried dengue fever. So far, she’d been lucky, only a few bites and no fever.

“All done.” She handed the bottle to Risto who shook his head.

“Let me get the backs of your arms and under your hair. You missed them.” It was scary how closely he observed her. He turned her away from him and massaged the repellant into her skin. “You can do my back.”

“Okay.” She retrieved a trail bar from her tote and another for him. She ate hers while he coated the exposed areas of his body. When he was done hitting the areas he could reach, she handed him a bar. “Here, eat.”

He took the food and turned away, presenting his broad back for the lotion. She loved smoothing the lotion over his muscled shoulders and back, taking special care to knead out any knots she found in his muscles. Even though the Atrato River was the swiftest moving river in the world, he’d still used the pole to keep them from being drawn into tributaries and to move them around obstacles. He had to be sore.

“God, that feels good. How about adding a massage to the blow job you promised me?”

She rubbed her cheek against his back. “Deal.”

“Drink.” He handed her the canteen and took the repellant from her and put it away.

“You got any more of those salt tablets?”

“Yes, you want some?”

“Please. Once we use up all of yours, there are some in the med kit in my pack.” He swallowed the tablets she gave him. “And, Callie, at the first sign of chills, body aches or even a slightly elevated temperature, let me know. I have Levaquin and you’ll need to take it. I don’t want to take any chances with you. Even the best repellants in the world still allow some mosquitoes to get through. We’ll reapply the lotion frequently just to be safe.”

“You let me know also. We can share the Levaquin.” His lips turned downward. He was pissed. “I mean it. If you get sick, I’d have to take care of you. So, no macho-bullshit, Marine. Okay?”

“You this bossy with those brothers of yours?”

“Yeah, and they turned out just fine—so I can’t hurt you any.” Risto stared for several seconds. All sorts of expressions swept over his face. She couldn’t begin to imagine what he was thinking. Finally, he said, “I bet they’re fine young men. They have a wonderful sister.” He punctuated his statement with a light brushing of his lips over her forehead. “Now, put on your shirt and pants—and your hat.” She changed her socks before donning her clothes. She was happy to note that while not absolutely dry, the pants and shirt weren’t all that damp either.

Risto grunted, drawing her attention. “Glad to see you had the forethought to pack extra socks. I know all the clothing is hot, but between the sun and the insects, you need to stay covered.”

Callie watched avidly as he got dressed. His movements were swift and economical.

Within a minute he’d changed his socks and put his boots back on, then pulled on a T-shirt and his long-sleeved tropical-weave cotton shirt. As he packed away his dirty clothing, he looked at her and smiled. “Ready to leave our abode?”

“Yes. Can we make the coast, today?”

“With the speed of the current and some luck at avoiding drug smugglers and guerilla patrols, it’s doable, but I wouldn’t count on it.”

“Gotcha, potentially another night camping out.” She buttoned her shirt all the way to the top button. “Um, about this potty break.” She couldn’t help it, she blushed. Risto had the decency not to laugh. He just shot her an inquiring, almost indulgent, look.

“Where will we, um, do it … and how do we avoid the insects? My dad had some horrible stories.” She wrinkled her nose in disgust. “We kids thought he made them up until Keely read some books on surviving in jungles and they were confirmed.” Risto’s humoring look turned serious. “Sweetheart, do you think I’d let your adorable bottom come anywhere near anything harmful?”

“I don’t … um, no.”

“Good answer.”

“But how can we avoid them? I read these fleas burrow into the skin while a person is um, well, you know.”

“They’re called tungas. Usually the fleas hang around a pre-dug latrine. If we were staying here for a while, we’d just spray the latrine area regularly and that would take care of it. Just using a spot once won’t be a problem. And we’ll both use different areas just in case, okay?”

She nodded but she must not have convinced him, because he added, “I have never had an issue with a tunga infestation, and I’ve had bodily functions in jungles all over South America. You’re in far more danger of having a mosquito bite that lovely butt than a jungle flea. Just make it quick and you’ll be fine.” He stood and picked up the heavy duffle and his pack. “We’ll move farther from shore to higher ground where there are some drier areas. That’s where I placed the alarms. You can help me pick them up once you’ve taken a bathroom break.”

“Okay.” Callie packed her stuff into her tote then helped Risto fold the netting and the mats and pack them away. “What about water?” She jiggled the canteen she carried in her tote. “I’m getting low and I suspect you are also.” She wouldn’t let him know how thirsty she’d been even with drinking regularly. She’d forced herself to sip all night, but the treated water was hard to get down and didn’t seem to help with her thirst. She hoped they could stop in the town he’d mentioned last night—Ungaía—and get something good to drink.

“There’s an underground stream flowing from a slight escarpment about two hundred yards into the forest. We’ll fill our canteens there. With the addition of the iodine tablets, we’ll have fresh water until we reach Ungaía where I think we should try to take a short break if the coast is clear.”

Callie said a silent “yippee.”

“If we had to, the Atrato is not a dirty river,” Risto said. “It has a lot of volume and runs too swiftly. So, if needed, we could fill our canteens in the middle of the channel.”

“I know that makes sense intellectually, but,” she made a moue, “it makes me feel all squicky, thinking about drinking river water.”

“I know, but trust me, we’ll be fine. The iodine tablets take care of any bad stuff and these canteens also have filters in them. Conn got us the state of the art purification system.”

“I’ll have to thank him once I get back to the States.” She turned to pick up her holster to put it on. She’d already strapped her knife sheath to her thigh.

Risto gripped her arm and turned her to face him. “The son of a bitch actually gave you his number?”

Other than when Cruz’s goons had threatened her and the attack at Conn’s, she’d never really seen Risto anything other than calm. He was definitely furious now. “Yes.” He swore an ugly oath under his breath. She flinched and hurried to explain. “Um, he told me I could call him any time I needed help, that he and Berto would come. He said they owed me for taking care of the men who killed Berto’s cousin.”

“Callie, if you ever need help, you call me first … not them. Understand?” His hands on her arms, he shook her lightly. The look on his face was a mixture of anger and pure male possession. His inner animal had claimed her. He didn’t want any other man to take care of her.
Good.
She hid her satisfaction. She wanted him present, every day and every night, for the rest of her life, taking care of all her needs. Mr. Risto Smith might not want to acknowledge it, but he was all but hers. He just hadn’t realized it yet.

“Callie? Do you understand? Call me … not Conn or Berto.” He shook her again.

“Call you. Got it.” She looked at his hands still clenching her arms then up at his flushed face. “But what if I can’t find you? What if you aren’t there?”

“Ren will know where I am.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“Then you can call Conn—but only as a last resort. Ask Ren or Tweeter for help first if I’m unavailable. Understand?”

“Yes, I understand.”
More than you want me to.
His demands went against his “not a permanent kind of guy” statement and his insistence that he’d leave her once he got her back to the States.

“Good. Now let’s get this show on the road. Hand the packs down to me so I can put them in the dugout. Once the boat is loaded, we’ll go ashore and take care of business before we shove off.”

* * * *

She seemed to accept his pronouncements, but who knew what she really thought. She was a modern, independent, intelligent woman who was used to taking care of herself and those around her. She didn’t need him, and she sure as hell didn’t need the baggage which came with being with him. But something inside him had urged him to force her to acknowledge his right to care for her needs.

With their bodily needs taken care of without a single hitch, he left Callie packing up perimeter alarms while he obtained water. The area was heavily treed and he didn’t want her getting hit by an errant branch or anything the monkeys in the trees decided to toss at intruders. Shoving aside a large fern, he located the small waterfall created by an underground stream. The water was as clear as any he’d ever seen in the mountains of North America, but he’d throw in the iodine tablets to be safe. Neither of them needed dysentery.