Her Next Breath (Uncharted SEALs Book 2) (2 page)

Deke nodded then cast a glance beyond Jackson. “Commander Martir’s not gonna be happy. He wanted to keep this simple.”

Jackson shook his head. “She’s my headache.”

“I’m not anyone’s problem,” the woman said, stepping in front of him with a bulging pillowcase.

He glanced back at the dresser top. The rings were missing from the tray.

“They’re mine,” she said, defiance flashing in her eyes. “They’re the least Alejandro owes me.”

“I’ll take your word for it, ma’am.”

“Stop with the ma’am. You’ve already seen me in my birthday suit. My name’s Suri McAnally. Now, are you getting me the hell out of here?”

Suri wasn’t sure
where the courage came from to bitch at her new captor. The moment she’d heard the stealthy footsteps enter her bedroom, she’d been terrified someone other than Alejandro had returned to molest her. Maybe an hour earlier, she’d known from the sounds of running footsteps and shouts coming from the courtyard followed by tires screeching away, that she’d been left behind to an uncertain fate.

When Jackson Keller had parted the curtains around the bed, she’d nearly peed herself she’d been so scared. A large dark shadow with the even more ominous outline of a large gun, and she’d been sure she was toast. What had precipitated the evacuation of the estate was a mystery. That she’d been the guest of someone dangerous had been apparent from the moment Alejandro drove her through the guarded gate of the compound past a phalanx of armed guards.

Although he’d kidnapped her, up to that moment, she hadn’t been afraid. Alejandro was her friend. And as he’d explained on the long drive from the private airport to the estate, he wouldn’t have kidnapped her at all if she’d just agreed to a little deception—a vacation posing as his fiancée to satisfy his father because his dad was suspicious about the fact Alejandro never brought around women or frequented the bordellos in the small town in the valley.

As she’d discovered, Alejandro’s father wasn’t someone a son could confide in. Telling the imposing man he was gay would likely have ended his life.

She understood why Alejandro had done what he had. But she’d lived the last few days in a state of heightened anxiety that Diego would learn the truth, and they’d both be shot and fed to the vultures that roosted in the sparse scrubby oaks dotting the hillsides around the compound. Automatic weapons and holstered pistols abounded. Cold, hard gazes followed her everywhere she went.

Until the lights flickered on, she hadn’t let go of her fear. But one glance at Jackson’s stern expression, his steady stare, and she’d relaxed inside. Something about him made her feel instantly safe. Might have been his large frame or the dark military-style helmet. Might have been the steel-gray gaze above black-streaked cheeks.

Didn’t make sense, but then, she’d been operating on instinct for so long, she didn’t question it. That she’d figured out he wasn’t a bigger bad than Diego Guzman didn’t mean she was ready to jump at his every command—just those that made sense. And right now, she agreed with the command to get the hell out of the Guzman family compound. If she never saw Alejandro’s odious father again, it would be too soon. At first sight, he’d given her the exact opposite impression as Jackson Keller.

And while Diego had been dressed in expensive, but casual, clothing and wore a carefully crafted, urbane facade, he’d made every hair on the back of her neck stand up. When he’d smiled through introductions over a civilized glass of wine, his dark eyes had been cold. Not a hint of emotion. She’d known in an instant she was facing someone who’d kill without blinking, without expression.

Jackson glanced at her feet, and his jaw tightened.

The skimpy sandals were the only shoes in the closet without a heel.

But he didn’t comment. He simply gave the other man a nod and swept a hand to indicate she should follow his buddy.

They made their way down the hallway to the staircase then out the front door into the waiting darkness.

“Hold the back of his shirt in case you lose your footing.”

She reached out and gripped the back of the uniform jacket, then took two steps for every one of the man’s as she followed him through the courtyard and out a side gate.

The route they chose was rocky, and she had to concentrate hard on the way his body moved to know how to measure her steps. After what seemed an hour but was likely only minutes, they came to a halt on a mesa. She let go of the man’s jacket, flexed her hand, and dropped her pillow case. Enough moonlight broke through the cloud cover to illuminate the area. A dozen men were in the clearing, aiming weapons outward, scanning the nearby peaks. Only Jackson watched her.

In the distance, she heard the rhythmic
whomp-whomp
of a helicopter drawing near. But it didn’t settle on the ground. Long rope ladders rolled out, and the team moved quickly to climb up into the belly of the helicopter.

Suri stared then took a step backward. No way was she climbing, swinging over the rocky ground. She didn’t like heights, hadn’t climbed a ladder higher than one she needed to reach into her upper kitchen cabinet. Her mouth dried, and she took another backward step and bumped into a tall, hard body.

He didn’t move away. Warm breath brushed her cheek. “You don’t have to climb. They’re dropping a basket for you. Now, move.”

She shivered at the low growling texture of his voice. The man was a grade-A bastard. But she knew he wasn’t bluffing. She’d seen the movies. Dangling in a basket over a deep canyon was only slightly less terrifying than the thought of climbing the ladder.

“My pillowcase?” she whispered, hating the fact her voice crackled with nervousness.

“I’ve got it.” He pressed a hand against her lower back and gently pushed her forward.

So the growl had been to motivate her. He did care whether she made it safely aboard.

After all the team was in the helicopter, a basket was dropped on a long steel cable. She stepped toward it, settled into the rescue basket, and allowed Jackson to secure the safety straps. He tucked the pillowcase between her legs then climbed onto the basket, hands holding the ropes, feet balanced on the sides of the apparatus.

Up they went, the wild wind created by the helicopter’s blades making it impossible for her to look upward and know how much farther she had to go. She stared at Jackson, whose face betrayed no fear as they hovered high over the rocky peaks. But soon, they reached the helicopter’s strut. Jackson stepped onto the strut, accepted a hand from one of the men crowding the door to help, and climbed inside. Then the men pulled the basket over the strut—feet first. For a terrifying moment, her head tilted toward the ground and all she could see were jagged peaks. She let out a scream, glad no one could hear over the sound of the loud engine or the chopping blades. Then she was sliding inside the belly of the aircraft.

Several men worked to unbuckle her from the cage. She was helped to her feet. With the door to the helo still open and men seated now with legs dangling over the sides or strapped into the benches that lined the cabin front and back, she didn’t feel much more secure. When the helicopter dropped unexpectedly, she let out another scream and grabbed for the man who’d helped her up.

“Just a little turbulence,” came a muffled shout beside her ear. And she knew who held her. She unfisted her hands from his jacket and leaned away. Jackson’s hands remained on her hips to steady her as she glanced up.

She could see little of his expression inside the dark cabin. Just the firm set of his mouth, the glistening of his eyes. “I’m okay,” she shouted back.

Gripping her arm, he urged her into an empty seat between two large men and buckled her in. Only then did he move away to sit on the opposite bench.

Surrounded by men in black, staring out the open door of the helicopter, she began to shake, wrapping her arms around her stomach. The entire experience was too much. She’d been afraid too long. Tears streaked down her cheeks and dried almost immediately from the wind and dry heat.

She didn’t know where they were bound, whether they would take her home, and she worried about what might await her back in Austin. She was no longer safe. The fiancée of a drug lord’s son was a target…or possibly bait. And she still wasn’t certain if Jackson and his team meant well. For all she knew, they considered her guilty by association. Would she be taken somewhere to be interrogated? She didn’t know anything other than the fact Alejandro was as much a prisoner as he’d made her into being.

A hand tapped her thigh. A bottle of water was passed. She shook her head because another worry entered her mind. How long until they landed and she found a restroom? The thought nearly made her laugh. She’d already suffered the humiliation of being found nude by a stranger.

Her gaze went to Jackson who stared across the expanse at her. That she’d irritated him was clear. That he hadn’t been pleased she was all his team found at the compound had to be disappointing. But what had he been thinking when he’d slowly examined her naked form? Had he just been looking for weapons or bombs, or had he lingered because he’d liked what he’d seen?

Why the answer to those questions mattered, she didn’t know, and she shouldn’t have cared, but she was intensely curious about him.

What did he look like under all that camouflage paint and military gear? Was he handsome? Was he married?

She glanced away and let out a breath, troubled that her mind wandered down that path. The last thing she needed was to obsess over her new captor. She needed to get home and contact the school to see whether she still had a job. As a brand new teacher, she could be easily fired for an unexplained absence, and positions were hard to find.

She sighed, suddenly calm, maybe too overwhelmed with a thousand worries to think any longer. Instead, she rested her gaze on Jackson and leaned to the side, not caring she was using a stranger’s hard shoulder as a pillow.

Right now, she didn’t have to be strong or smart. Right now, she should rest her mind and body. Looking across at Jackson’s narrowed gaze, she had the feeling she’d need it.

‡

T
he woman didn’t
stir until they bumped onto the graveled helipad at Charter Group’s private airport in the middle of the Yucatán jungle. Mac had worn a wide grin the moment she’d leaned her head against him and promptly fell asleep.

Jackson didn’t understand why he had the urge to reach across and strangle the big man. He barely knew him. Yes, they’d trained together for weeks—the entire team had been pushed to develop unit cohesion before their first mission together, but he didn’t know Mac the same way he did Deke who had been a SEAL with him in DEVGRU. They’d been battle-tested, blooded together. He’d stood beside Deke as his best man when he’d married Commander Martir’s daughter. They’d both left DEVGRU when then-Congressman Martir left office to accept the post of Director of Special Operations at Charter Group. He and Deke were tight.

Still, all of the team except for Jave was ex-SEAL. Jave had been brought on due to his experience with dogs. He’d come straight from Delta Force with glowing commendations. They were all solid warriors. Time would build the bonds that made a unit think like a single entity.

The men peeled out of both doors of the helo, leaving only Jackson and Suri to disembark. He jumped to the ground then held out his arms.

She hesitated only a moment before stepping forward and allowing him to carry her to the ground. Yes, he could have let down the metal steps, but he knew his touch unnerved her. Better to keep her off-kilter until she’d been questioned. Since speaking was difficult due to the noisy helo, he pointed to an open door of a nearby hangar.

Suri grabbed her pillowcase from the edge of the cabin floor, bent beneath the whirring blades and walked toward it, never looking back.

Jackson followed close on her heels. Security was tight around the airstrip. Privately owned and far from any towns, the fenced perimeter was surveilled by walking patrols and cameras. She’d be safe and confined until they got what intel she possessed.

In the meantime, he’d make sure her things were placed inside his hut. She was his responsibility. When she wasn’t surrounded by his team, she’d be with him. To keep her safe.

Funny that he’d had to add that last qualifier. As if he had to remind himself she was his prisoner, not a woman he could show interest in.

But he struggled not to admire her figure as she walked away. Nicely rounded where a woman should be. Legs so long he could envision them wrapping around his waist. And her face… It was hard to describe it in his mind, she was pretty, yes, but also appeared vulnerable. Maybe because her face wasn’t a bit angular and thin like so many women strived for. Hers was soft, her cheeks and chin rounded, her mouth plump—it invited kisses. Her eyes were what had struck him first. Blue as Texas Bluebonnets but so expressive he could read every emotion that swept through her. He’d seen her fear, her irritation…her reluctant interest.

The problem was, Jackson didn’t have as keen an insight into his own emotions. From the first moment he’d found her chained to her bed, he’s been struck. She messed with his objectivity, made him doubt his instincts. If she was who he suspected her to be, his instincts were dead wrong. She wasn’t an innocent and couldn’t be in need of rescue. He’d have to hand her over to the DEA and that thought burned a hole in his gut, because they wouldn’t turn her loose until they’d grilled her thoroughly. His instinct to protect her, to shield her from that sort of fate, didn’t make sense.