Red-Hot Santa Page 7

  Three of their original team members found their way to them and radio contact with Lenny was finally established. Jackson filled him in on the situation. Max listened intently for his response, which, for all intents, should be to order them to fall back.

  “Push on, Savage,” was the order, instead.

  Max’s trigger finger itched with the desire to shoot someone other than hostiles.

  What was she talking about? Lenny was a hostile.

  They’d already pow-wowed with the four remaining uninjured members, got Taylor over the wall and to safety, and then decided they were all in. Now they had to rework the original strategy and get those hostages out.

  Within minutes, they each had their plans and split up, aware that around every corner lay the potential of running into guards.

  “Wait!” she called, catching sight of something.

  Everyone double-timed back.

  “There,” she said, pointing to the northeast guesthouse some hundred yards to their right.

  It had seemed strange to her that a counterattack hadn’t been made against them. Now she understood why: the compound guards had been moved to protect that guesthouse.

  Somewhere in the back of her mind, a time clock ticked down. There was little doubt calls had been made and reinforcements were even now on their way. They had maybe five minutes to do what needed to be done and get out of Dodge.

  “Odds are good they’re being held in there,” Jackson agreed.

  “Could be the warlord.”

  He shook his head. “No. A number of guards also went into the main house, which means there’s someone there, as well.”

  She considered him for a long moment. “Should we split up? Hit both?”

  He shook his head. “No. Too risky. This is a one shot deal.” He looked at the others. “I say we make a run on the guesthouse.”

  The others immediately agreed.

  Of course, deciding to go that route was more easily said than done. Of the three structures, it was the most difficult to reach. There was no cover. It was all open territory between here and there.

  Which was another reason it was most likely that’s where the hostages were being held.

  “Okay, here’s the plan…” Jackson said.

  WHILE HERSHEY AND EVANS focused on taking out the visible guards, he, Max and Bachman advanced in an uneven pattern, keeping an eye out for snipers. Selznick stayed near the wall where they would make their escape, providing any needed cover. By the time they reached the front of the two-story structure, the three visible guards had been taken out, and a fourth slumped forward from his hidden position just inside the open doorway. That coup had been compliments of Max, who must have spotted him a moment before Jackson had.

  He and Max flanked the open door, while Bachman went around the back, followed by Evans and Hershey who continued to provide cover fire as they joined them.

  Jackson nodded and then rushed the door at the same time Max aimed her weapon inside to provide any needed cover. They switched off like that three additional times, verifying there were no others on the first floor. They both looked up the stairs…

  Evans joined them inside, leaving Hershey and Bachman at the front and back entrance.

  “Cover me,” Max said.

  She began climbing the stairs and Jackson and Evans aimed their weapons farther up, following after she was five steps up. They reached the second landing to find it empty.

  Damn…

  “Check ’em!” Max ordered.

  One by one they checked all the rooms to find them empty.

  Nothing.

  No guards.

  No warlord.

  No hostages.

  They double-timed it back out just as a series of Jeeps roared out of an unconnected garage near the front of the compound, nowhere near any of the three structures they’d been given to check.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Max said next to him.

  He couldn’t have agreed more.

  Of course, that decision proved to be as complicated as any they’d made thus far. As the convoy no doubt holding the hostages sped out, another set of vehicles sped in.

  Gunfire spit at the ground at their feet.

  “To the back!” he shouted.

  He led the group through the empty house to the rear door. The containment wall lay twenty yards behind it. If they could make it there, they could scale it and be out, ordering Selznick to follow from his position farther up the wall.

  The sound of gunfire filled the air.

  He ran, blindly aiming his M-16 and shooting back, aware of Max doing the same on the other side of him. Evans took a direct shot and fell face first to the ground. Max instantly stopped and crouched, spraying their advancing enemy even as she checked their fallen team member. Jackson was pretty sure the man had taken it to the vest and was satisfied he would be okay when he awkwardly got to his feet with Max’s one-armed help. Jackson provided cover fire as the others boosted Evans up and over the wall, then each of them followed.

  Gunfire spit up the side of the wall, spraying cement fragments at him as he finally went over.

  He wasn’t surprised to find the sound of approaching vehicles outside. Disappointed, but not surprised.

  They rushed to Storehouse who looked out of sorts, an injured Taylor leaning against a nearby tree, armed and ready for combat.

  “Plan,” Jackson demanded.

  “Where are the hostages?”

  “Gone.”

  “Bullshit! Get back in there and get them!”

  “They’re not there to get.”

  The roar of engines warned of imminent danger. “Plan?”

  Lenny looked confused, and Jackson clearly saw panic settling in.

  He grabbed the satellite communication device. “Who do I radio for backup?”

  Lenny stared at him, half pissed, half scared. “Nobody. There is no backup. The SEAL team due to rendezvous with us was delayed.”

  “Exit point,” Jackson said between clenched teeth.

  “What do you mean there is no backup?” Polson, one of the other three of Storehouse’s team that had made it out, but not without injury as the blood spreading on his upper thigh revealed, demanded. “Oh, fuck. We’re gonna die, man. We’re gonna die…”

  Jackson shoved him toward the thick forest. “Not on my watch we’re not…”

  11

  MAX HAD NO IDEA how they’d gotten away from the compound without further casualties. It had been part skill, part knowing how to utilize their surroundings, not to mention a massive infusion of luck, but a half an hour later there was nothing but the hushed sound of the team’s uneven, labored breathing in the pre-dawn light, the rainforest around them beginning to come to life.

  “Clear?” she said quietly.

  Jackson looked down at her. “Clear.”

  Polson trudged over and sat down heavily on a tree stump. “Thank God…?.”

  At some point in their retreat, Polson had regained his bearings and stood on his own two feet, feet that were now giving out. He collapsed to the ground and rested his head against his raised knees. Even Evans, who was by far more seriously injured, was holding up better than her male counterpart. A slight wince as she leaned against a nearby tree was the only giveaway that she was in pain.

  Even though it had been a good fifteen minutes since they’d last heard anything from their pursuers, it would still be a good idea to keep their breather brief and trudge ahead.

  She glanced over at where Jackson spoke to Polson. She noticed a ways back the right side of Jackson’s face and right arm were red with blood. His own? Or someone else’s?

  Minutes later, he came over to find her going through her bag.

  “What’s the plan?” she asked.

  “Exit near same place as entrance 1200 hours. We’re going make camp here.”

  “Is that a good idea?”

  “Is it a good idea to leave the same way we came?”

  Before she realize
d she was going to do it, she was touching the side of his face. His eyes widened slightly and she quickly withdrew her hand.

  “It’s yours, the blood…”

  He touched his fingers to it and then grimaced. “Spray from the wall, maybe.”

  How close he’d had to be to have the gunfire spit wall fragments hard enough to break his skin.

  He nodded to his right. “There’s a stream over there. Why don’t you go and get cleaned up while I make camp?”

  She gave him an amused smile. “Actually, I was just going to suggest the same thing to you.” She turned him in that direction. “Go on, I’ll help set up camp.”

  He looked doubtful.

  “Don’t make me give you a square kick,” she threatened.

  He chuckled and moved away with a couple of the other guys toward the stream.

  Max stood for long moment, watching after him. She didn’t care what the others thought or didn’t think. She was just glad that he was okay, that she was okay and that this entire mess was soon going to be behind them so they could…

  The chaos of the past few hours made the idea of normal day-to-day life seem far away. But not so far that she couldn’t grasp tightly onto it, hoping…

  For what?

  Oh, she knew.

  Not that she was prepared to admit that to anyone. Not even herself.

  But still that hope remained…

  AN HOUR LATER, Jackson snuck into Max’s tent. He was highly amused at her surprised expression. Dawn was just breaking, but down in the forest it was still dim, no backlight to illuminate what they might be doing inside. Two men were placed on perimeter duty and everyone but the leader was down for a rest before making the final hike to the rendezvous point.

  “Hey,” he said, crouching and taking in where she was still fully dressed. “Aren’t you going to get out of those?”

  She arched a brow at him. He’d watched as she washed up in the stream, pouring water over her curly hair, scrubbing her face neck and arms. She looked as fresh as if she’d taken a long, hot shower.

  “And wear what?” she asked quietly.

  He plucked a small Baggie of cookies off her bedroll. “Oh, I don’t know. Nothing?” He held up the sweets.

  “Compliments of my mother. She must have shoved them in my pack when I wasn’t looking. Go ahead.”

  He fished one of the cookies out. It had to be the best thing he tasted—outside Max—in years.

  Of course, he knew his reaction had to do with their close call. Heightened senses were common following such an incredible adrenaline rush.

  “What else did she put in there?” he asked, reaching for her bag.

  She snatched it out of reach. “None of your business.”

  He finished the cookie. “You know, it’s not good to have stuff like that in the wild.”

  “Tell my mother.”

  He grinned. “I will.”

  “Good luck with that.”

  She smiled and something flipped over inside of him.

  Whoa.

  It seemed his sense of taste wasn’t the only thing heightened in the wake of their recent gun battle.

  Merely looking at her made him hotter than he could ever remember being.

  Despite what had already passed between them, he tried telling himself this was Max, his friend, and now his coworker. He needed to keep that fact straight.

  There was no mixing business with pleasure…

  Or sex with friendship…

  “Wh…what are you doing?” she whispered.

  He hadn’t realized he’d leaned in toward her until their breath mingled in the short space between them.

  “This…”

  He kissed her.

  She appeared ready to deny him. He slid his lips against hers one way, then the other…and then claimed them full on.

  Her soft sigh fluttered like butterfly wings against his face and she relaxed into him, her hands pulling him to her. The feel of her breasts against his chest ignited an even hotter fire deep in his groin. He leaned farther in and zipped the tent door before tipping her to lie flat against her bedding.

  So much for good intentions.

  Sweet Lord, she was sexy…

  He nudged her knees apart with his and filled the space between them, pressing his hardness against her softness. He ran his hand up her narrow waist to cup her breast, his thumb finding her nipple through the fabric of her tank and bra. She made a quiet sound somewhere between a moan and a whimper and pressed her hips up into his.

  He groaned in the back of his throat then chuckled.

  “What?” she whispered, kissing the side of his mouth.

  “Nothing. It’s just that…” He stared into her half-lidded eyes. “This is the first time I’ve kissed a fellow Marine.”

  She smiled and moved her hands to his backside, pressing him even harder against her. “Well, I certainly hope kissing isn’t the only thing you’re planning on doing…”

  He rubbed the side of his face against hers and pressed his lips against her earlobe. “Depends…”

  She gasped when he lightly pinched her nipple. “On what?”

  “Hmm?” he asked, gazing down at her.

  “You said it depends. Depends on what?”

  He kissed her neck. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe on whether or not you can keep quiet. Because the other night, you scared the cat…”

  Her squeak of laughter inspired his own. “I did not!”

  “You did so…”

  He grinned and kissed her until she sighed back into the bedding, her breathing ragged, her body trembling. Then he allowed his right hand to roam.

  Tugging the hem of her tank from her khakis, he slid his fingers underneath, splaying them against her stomach. He worked his thumb under the edge of her bra cup, rasping it over a stiff nipple. His mouth watered with the desire to taste her, to pull the puckered flesh into his mouth, feel the texture of her against his tongue. But this was neither the time nor the place for leisurely desire. And even if he couldn’t keep his hands to himself, he had to keep in mind where they were and what might happen at any moment.

  He slid his hand back down her abdomen. She sucked in her breath and he used the advantage to budge his fingers inside the front of her pants, not stopping until the tips were under the elastic of her panties. She was so wet, so hot…

  And his erection grew so hard it was nearly painful. He removed his hand and undid the front of her pants, allowing him more comfortable access. She began to shimmy out of them, but he held her fast.

  “No, leave them on.”

  She stared at him, her mouth half open in question, until he slid his hand back inside to rest between her thighs.

  She opened herself to him farther and he stifled a groan, yearning to stroke her with more than his fingers.

  He parted her with his thumb and index finger, then ran his middle along the length of her slick channel, up to her button and back down again. Her back came up off the ground, pressing her sex hard against the heel of his hand. He dipped his middle finger inside her, pulled it out and then slid it in to the hilt. She moaned low and sweet. Finding her clit, he rubbed it lightly with his index finger even as he thrust his thumb deep inside her.

  Her reaction was nothing short of mesmerizing. He watched her breasts heave, her mouth suck in air as if she couldn’t get enough of it, and her hips move as she hotly ground against him…

  It took every ounce of self-restraint he had not to strip her down and replace his thumb with his throbbing cock. He wanted her so badly he could taste her orgasm in the back of his throat.

  He leaned in and kissed her, claiming her open mouth. She hungrily returned the attention, one of her hands curving around the back of his head, the other winding around his right wrist as if caught between wanting to pull him away, and wanting to keep him there.

  “Please…” she whimpered, pleading with her eyes as well as her words. “I want to feel you…”

  “Shhhh, I want to
feel you, too, baby,” he whispered back, then trapped whatever she might have added with his mouth against hers.

  He stimulated her clit with his fingers, drawing tight, wet circles even as he twisted his thumb, applying pressure to the back of her vagina then the front, curving it against her G-spot…

  Her muscles contracted almost instantly and her back came up off the floor. He swallowed her moan and kissed her hard in an attempt to stifle her sounds, as well as to keep himself from pulling her pants down and entering her, if just for a sweet, torturous minute.

  Finally, she collapsed against the bedroll, spent, her eyes liquid jade as she gazed at him. His back teeth hurt from the effort it took not to claim her fully.

  She reached out, trapping his hard-on between his stomach and her hand.

  Jackson pulled her to him until he spooned her. She made sounds of approval and wriggled her sweet bottom against him. He groaned.

  “Hold still.”

  “No.”

  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Damn, but the woman was going to be the death of him.

  As he counted backward from a thousand, a small voice in the back of his head told him it would be a hell of a way to go…

  12

  MAX WOKE TO FIND herself alone. She snuggled deeper into the bedroll, wishing Jax was still curved against her. The sun shone more brightly through the ceiling of tree branches, turning the top of her tent into a kaleidoscope of shifting light.

  Was it even possible she’d escaped this godawful hellhole for a short, precious time? Yet somehow he had made it happen for her. He’d selflessly stroked away her tension and fear, made her forget who she was, where she was and inspired her to feel nothing but joy.

  Feel nothing but him…

  She could have easily been lying under the old oak tree behind her aunt’s farmhouse on a picnic blanket on a warm summer’s day…

  She smiled into her arm where she rested her face against it.

  Jax…

  How many times had she lain under that tree back home and daydreamed about him? Lived a fantasy life full of picnics and bike rides and make-out sessions in the cab of his truck?