Red-Hot Santa Page 8

  Of course, they’d never done any of that. She’d been far too stubborn, and he had been far too busy.

  But now…

  She rolled over to lie on her back, smiling at the low tent top. How beautiful he’d been, back then and now. There were a few times when she’d almost told him, almost kissed him when it seemed she had no control over her actions. But something had always interfered. More than a few times, it had been another girl…

  She rubbed her closed eyes, wanting to wash away the image of Jax with another woman, oust the pain that accompanied it.

  Blondes. They’d almost always been blondes. Petite perky ones that smiled a lot and appeared ready to burst into a cheer at any moment. She’d hated them all on sight. She realized now her urge to knock the smiles off their faces hadn’t had anything to do with their hair color, but rather because they’d been the focus of Jackson’s attention.

  The only saving grace was, they’d never lasted long.

  She wondered about that now. Why hadn’t they? In fact, she couldn’t seem to recall him dating any single female for longer than maybe a month.

  She’d been so obsessed with her own reaction, she’d never stopped to ponder his motivations.

  And if a time or two she had considered dying her hair blond, well, that was between her and the supermarket cashier…

  She stared at where she twirled one of the red curls that had escaped her ponytail around her finger. Usually, she’d stop such girly, self-indulgent behavior whenever she caught it. But not now.

  Now she allowed herself the harmless indulgence, if only because she was enjoying it.

  Enjoying the feeling of being in love.

  Her throat grew tight as she realized that’s what had taken hold of her. Not that she had anything to compare it to. She’d certainly never visited this territory before. Never ventured beyond the haze of physical attraction to what might lie beyond.

  She’d never been tempted to.

  Then again, it really wasn’t a temptation, was it? It either happened or it didn’t.

  She now understood something her mother had said, something she’d once judged as moronic: “Oh, when you’re in love, you’ll know it.”

  She smiled. Yeah, she was very definitely in love…

  The unmistakable sound of gunfire shredded the calm silence and rent her meanderings in two.

  Max grabbed her M-16 and dived for the tent door, watching as holes ripped through the wall and into the bedding she’d been on a moment before.

  Her heart thundered in her chest for reasons unrelated to ones just a moment before. Her head swam from the short distance between the two extremes, pure adrenaline flooding her bloodstream.

  Get it together, get it together…?.

  It boggled her mind that moments before, she’d been thanking Jax for the escape…?.

  Now she wondered if she should have been cursing him…?.

  She scrambled out and across the clearing for cover in the trees, her breath coming in shallow gasps. What was going on? Had their pursuers followed them that far into the forest?

  She glanced at her watch. Only twenty minutes before they were due to make the final hike to the rendezvous point.

  Timing was everything when it came to assignments of this nature. One minute earlier, one minute later and everything was thrown off.

  And twenty minutes later they would have been long gone. Whoever was now targeting the camp would have found nothing but footprints and the Baggie that held her mother’s cookies.

  A split second earlier and she would have been lying where those bullets had hit…

  She watched as Polson rushed from his tent, hitting the tree next to her. A few others followed, mostly her fellow team members, flanking other trees nearby.

  Where was Jackson?

  Leading with her gun, she scanned the now silent area, nothing but a few falling leaves and bird screeches indicating anything had happened.

  Nothing. Not a hint of friend or foe.

  She reached for her radio.

  Jackson immediately responded.

  Thank God.

  He indicated he was on the northern perimeter and would be coming in. She was to sit tight until then.

  Well, she certainly wasn’t about to sit loose.

  “Where’s Lenny?” she asked Polson.

  “Haven’t seen him.”

  She took in the three remaining tents. All of them bore the same holes hers did. Had the other team members been sleeping at the time of the attack? Were they even now inside, dead?

  She needed to check. Lenny was in the first tent, if she wasn’t mistaken.

  “Cover me,” she said to Polson.

  “From who?”

  She grabbed his gun and pointed it around the tree. “From anyone who shoots at me.”

  Taking a deep breath, she swung around and made a beeline for the tent. Nothing. She wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. She decided since she was still alive, it was good.

  She pushed open the tent flap with her gun. Lying inside was Lenny. He was dead.

  Damn.

  She reached for his satellite phone, only to snatch her hand back when gunfire sounded and more bullets ripped up the side of the tent.

  Shit!

  She backtracked toward her tree, relieved when Polson provided cover fire.

  “So?” he asked.

  “Dead.”

  “Shit.”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  Given there was still no movement from the other tents, she assumed that only Polson had made it out alive from the other team. Which made her doubly grateful that their team was full and accounted for.

  There was still no way of telling who was targeting them, or how many of them there were. Although it was safe to say they were on the other side of the camp. Had they been on this side, well, that body count might very well be the other way around.

  “Where are you going?” Polson whispered harshly.

  “To see who our friends are.”

  “Savage said to sit tight.”

  She stared at him. “Right. And that’s exactly what you and the others are going to do. Sit tight and cover me…”

  She darted for the next tree, Polson’s profanity following her. She stared at him and indicated he should be looking out for her. He cursed some more then swung to do as she requested.

  She made it to the third tree before she took hostile fire. It didn’t help that it was a young tree, not only not providing much cover, but narrow enough rounds might make it through.

  She hunched down low to the ground and darted for the next tree, pausing against it and closing her eyes as she took fire again.

  She couldn’t be sure how close she was, but she figured it was close enough if they were firing at her. Only she wasn’t convinced it was a ‘they’ but rather was one person. Two at most.

  Of course, he or they currently held the advantage—they were in a stationary position while she was on the move.

  She moved again.

  Unfortunately, it appeared her adversary was, too, given the angle of fire.

  She lifted her radio. “Polson, keep a watch to your right.”

  “Why?”

  “Target heading your way.”

  She heard him curse without the radio.

  All she could do was hope he stayed put and didn’t drop back. Last thing she needed was to worry about her team.

  Of course, she wasn’t all that keen on running around in circles, either.

  Following the next move, she crouched down and angled her weapon around the tree trunk, scanning the opposite side with her scope.

  There!

  Problem was, her adversary was aiming his weapon directly back at her.

  She squeezed off a shot and then ducked for cover.

  She swallowed hard. That was too close for comfort.

  She estimated the distance between Polson and the shooter. Four trees. Polson should be able to see him by now.

  T
hen why hadn’t he taken a shot?

  She picked up the radio.

  No answer.

  Shit!

  She tried to make him out, but could see nothing.

  Great. Either he had bought it, or had fallen back. Either way, that meant she was on her own.

  She backtracked a tree, sweat trickling down the back of her neck. She waited a heartbeat, and then slowly aimed her weapon around the trunk.

  Again, she found herself scope to scope with her opponent.

  She was about to pull the trigger when the barrel of his was weapon lifted up.

  Max looked with her bare eye, then through the scope again, adjusting the distance for a broader view.

  Someone stood to the shooter’s left, holding a handgun to the man’s temple.

  Jackson…

  Her relief was so complete she nearly dissolved into a puddle.

  “All clear,” Polson called.

  She lifted herself to a standing position, her back against the tree, not for cover, but to support her liquefied knees. She edged around, still holding her weapon at the ready. Jackson walked out the gunman, while Polson walked another one out from another direction.

  She smiled at them both. “Well, hello, boys. Imagine running into you here.”

  Jackson directed Polson to detain his captive while he did the same. Max provided backup as they updated each other…

  It appeared they were the last three left out of the crew that had stayed behind.

  Damn.

  “Sat com is dead,” Max said, referring to the satellite phone.

  “Damn.” Jackson had whispered the word but it held the impact of a shout.

  “What do we do now?”

  “Move to the rendezvous point and hope we’re still getting picked up.”

  Max glanced at her watch, thinking they were already behind, only to find only twenty minutes had passed and they were right on target for the hike to the clearing.

  It was all about timing.

  The moment the thought entered her mind, she was being grabbed from behind and gunfire deafened her.

  13

  JACKSON DIVED FOR POLSON, knocking him down to the dirt and falling on top of him. The two captives jerked like marionettes in a sick puppet show then crumpled in lifeless heaps mere feet away.

  Even with everything going on, all he could think of was Max…

  He rolled away and aimed his weapon, catching the man holding her captive in his sights.

  Damn!

  Too close.

  He wiped at the instant sweat that coated his brow and squinted again. The guy was good. Too good. He knew how to hold Max in front of him as a shield. While Jackson was a crack shot, he couldn’t trust himself. Not with emotion surging as well as adrenaline.

  Not recognizing the fear that threatened to paralyze him.

  He glanced to find Polson lifting his weapon. He smacked it so the round bit the ground a few feet away. His own team members were off to the left and were waiting on his lead.

  The chances of hitting her were too great.

  Max was pulled from view behind the trees.

  Damn it!

  Jackson scrambled to his feet only to find himself targeted by more gunfire.

  He and Polson rushed for cover.

  But he didn’t stay there. He couldn’t stay there.

  Without a second thought, he ran to his left, skirting around the trees, his legs pumping, his heart hammering, his palms damp against his M-16. He came up on one of the first startled gunmen fast, taking him out before the guy could even blink, and kept running, not stopping until he was on the guy holding Max.

  He hesitated. Or it felt as if he did. In reality, he hadn’t stopped moving. He recognized the slow motion of his thoughts. The stop-motion animation. His adrenaline-flooded brain registered everything in sharp photo quality, allowing him to note details he might not have otherwise seen. It was the same sensation that allowed for lifesaving knee-jerk reactions when you were in danger.

  It was that same hyperconsciousness that allowed him to register within a glance, the way the captor held Max, the angle of the gun he pressed against her temple, the fact that his attention was focused ahead of him and not on Jackson.

  He launched himself against the gunman hard, the stop-motion animation vanishing and returning to real time the instant Jackson’s flesh crashed against the flesh of his opponent in a bone-jarring smack.

  They both fell to the ground along with Max.

  Before they hit the dirt, twenty thoughts ricocheted through his head, the top of them being how stupid he was. He had no idea if there was another gunman or several, or if the pistol the captor had held against Max’s temple had a hair trigger, no matter the angle he’d held it.

  But he was running on pure adrenaline, his only aim to free Max as soon as he could, pre-planning and caution be damned.

  He didn’t realize he was pummeling the guy until he saw the barrel of an M-16 in front of him, pointed at the gunman’s head.

  He blinked up to find Max smiling at him. “Got it.”

  The hostile wasn’t the only one she’d gotten. She had him as well…?.

  The thought filled the void left by the fleeing urgency, large and loud and undeniable.

  And it concerned him nearly as much as the idea of her being harmed.

  Yes, Max had him. Lock, stock and two smoking barrels.

  Somewhere down the line, their friendship had evolved into a hot affair then rushed toward something much more.

  The question was, what was he going to do about it?

  The answer that immediately came to him was the same as his response about what to do with the situation at hand—he intended to escape as quickly as he could…

  MAX COULDN’T PINPOINT exactly what, but within the squeeze of a trigger, something had changed. Jackson, well, he was behaving oddly. Not like the Jax she knew, either as a friend, or a lover.

  Directly after he’d climbed off her captor, he’d stalked away as if upset; with himself or her, she couldn’t be sure. And when he came back after checking the area, he seemed to pointedly keep his distance, avoiding her gaze and leaving her questions—even simple ones—unanswered.

  Jackson, Max and what was left of the team hiked toward the rendezvous point with Jax in the lead. He appeared to be sweating more than she had ever seen him do before, his handsome face set in deep, somber lines.

  Her heart still beat heavily from her brief hostage stint. She’d never had control taken from her in that way before, but training had served her well. She’d been reviewing her escape options and had felt confident of success when Jackson had appeared from out of nowhere and taken the guy down.

  They reached the clearing and stopped, Polson propping his hands against his knees. “Where they at?”

  Max looked at Jackson who looked at the sky. A chopper was supposed to come in and pluck them out, then take them to a nearby landing strip where a plane was waiting.

  Only there was no chopper.

  Was Lenny to have radioed first?

  If so, they were out of luck. The radio had been shot along with Lenny.

  “We wait,” he said stonily.

  “For how long?” Polson demanded.

  Jackson stared at him, then turned away. Max felt his distance as cold as any December wind now blowing back home.

  “Shut up, Polson,” Taylor said, earning agreement from the other four team members where they hung around on the perimeter, keeping an eye out even as they focused on their leader.

  They couldn’t stay long. Not now that it was obvious they were being pursued. It was important they get out of the area as quickly as possible.

  “We’ll wait fifteen,” Jackson said.

  “And then?” Max asked.

  He didn’t say anything. Instead he shrugged off his sack, placed it on a nearby rock and went to the side of the river where he splashed water over his handsome face.

  She wanted to stalk after him, demand t
o know what was going on.

  Instead, she let her own sack slide to the ground where she sat on it, watching as Polson and a few of the others did the same.

  Fifteen minutes came and went with each of them searching the sky, while keeping a furtive eye on the surrounding jungle.

  Nothing.

  Polson pushed from his sack and paced. “They’re not coming.” He issued a staccato litany of profanity. “I’m beginning to think we were never meant to get out of here alive.”

  “Don’t be stupid,” Jackson said. “What purpose would our deaths serve?”

  “Once they knew the mission was unsuccessful?” Polson asked. “I don’t now? To save a buck and cut risk?”

  Max rubbed her forehead. Even in the military sometimes decisions were made not to retrieve if the target area was too hot. But never to save a dollar.

  Could Polson be right? Were they expendable? Just another entry on a spreadsheet?

  Jackson finally glanced at her, the shadow in his eyes unreadable. She steadily returned his gaze. Then he walked to his sack, bent and opened a side pocket, sliding out what looked like little more than a glorified cellular phone. But she knew it was a satellite phone.

  Relief flushed through her, complete and overwhelming.

  Polson let loose an excited shout that sent birds fleeing from neighboring trees.

  Selznick hit him in the arm…hard.

  “What? Oh. Sorry.” He ran his hand over his close-cropped hair and back again, grinning. “It’s just I feel like a deathrow inmate who’s just been granted a reprieve.”

  Jackson frowned at him. “Yeah, well, don’t get too excited. I don’t know if I’m going to be able to do anything to get us out of here.”

  “Hell, give me the phone and I’ll call my sister,” Polson said. “She’ll fly over and rent a car to drive in if she has to.”

  Jackson ignored him and turned to walk away.

  Max had no fear. She knew Jackson would get them out, even if they had to hike to the next village and buy their way out.

  What concerned her more than their current predicament was what was going through his head.

  That frightened her more than being taken hostage again. Because while she knew how to survive a hostile situation, she wasn’t so sure she knew how to survive if he turned away from her.