High Octane Heroes (15 page)

Her clit must have enjoyed the rough ride too, because soon she let loose a series of screams at the sky and a rush of moisture coated his dick. As she spasmed around him, contracting hard, he joined her in orgasm, shouting his triumph at the night.

Though slower, he pumped her still, refusing to leave the pleasure their bodies created. He laid her back on the ledge and rocked inside her while his hands molded her breasts. Every part of her was swollen, moist and red from their efforts. The corners of his mouth went wide in appreciation.

“You know,” she said lazily, “you have a killer smile.”

“Is that all?”

She shrugged. “Since that’s all I’ve seen, I’ll plead the Fifth.”

“Fuck many men whose face you’ve never seen?”

Her eyes widened, like she’d forgotten that little fact.

He almost relented and pulled the covering from his face to reassure her he wasn’t an ugly ogre, but her quickly narrowing gaze amused him too much.

Before she had a chance to respond, he flicked her nipples and rolled them between his thumb and forefinger, and then her hips jerked of their own accord. Donovan had just settled into a rooted grind, when two high-pitched beeps breeched their world.

In unison they barked, “Fuck!”

Moving forward, he gave her lips a biting kiss and disengaged their bodies. Quickly, they both retrieved their phones.

 

Her resplendently naked. Him fully covered, except for his mouth, dick and balls. While accessing the urgent message, he reached into his bag and pulled out a small towel and tossed it to her. With sure reflexes, she caught it and began cleaning while checking her own message.

“Hostage situation four miles from here. You want a ride?”

She laughed hard, doubling over a little. “Didn’t I just get one from you?”

“You only want one?” he asked, tone wry.

She gave him that devil’s triumphant expression. “No. I want more.”

“Good.”

“But,” she added, “I’m not taking orders from you on scene.”

He planted his hands on his hips and leered over her. “You will.”

“Only when I’m naked or you’re trying to get me that way,” she said, fastening the pants she’d pulled up her lean legs.

“We’ll see.”

With a pouty smirk, she said, “Yes, we will.”

 

 

 

 

 

S
he was going to die. If Emery could have chosen where she would kick the bucket, it wouldn’t have been in a muddy pit in the middle of nowhere.

Emery shivered and pressed her back against the side of the soggy pit. There was little shelter from the drizzling rain. Bamboo bars crisscrossed overhead, and a piece of plywood had been thrown over one end. The side of her head throbbed from meeting the butt of a rifle. She was exhausted, tired and hungry. She’d stopped praying that her team back in Thailand would come looking for her. The things she’d seen around the campfire before being tossed in her prison were atrocities she wouldn’t wish on her worst enemy.

The top of her prison rose, shaking loose a shower of water droplets. She shivered and hugged herself tighter. One of her kidnappers sneered at her and said something she couldn’t translate. She didn’t need words to understand what he wanted from her.

Two more men appeared, a large bundle clutched between them. As they shoved it over the edge, she realized it wasn’t a thing. The bundle was a person.

She yelped and scrambled sideways as the body splattered mud and water everywhere. The men laughed and yelled more incoherent words. The lid slammed back down, plunging them into semidarkness.

Emery peered over her shoulder. Was he dead? Bile rose up in her throat. Was this the man they’d had strapped between two trees? She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the memory to the darkest recesses of her mind.

The body groaned and mud slurped around limbs as he shifted.

Emery groped around for something, anything to use as a weapon, and grabbed a slippery rock the size of her fist. It wasn’t much, but her best friend’s brother had shown her a thing or two about making do with what she had in a pinch.

The man sat up, holding one arm to his chest while the other cradled his head. He was big, really big. The pit was only six feet across and he took up more than half.

“Don’t come near me. I’m warning you,” she blurted. She could hear the fear in her voice, high pitched and frantic.

He pushed to his knees. The clouds must have thickened because she couldn’t make out his features, not that there was much to see except for mud. His arm snaked out, and he grabbed her wrist.

Emery jerked, trying to break his hold, but he might as well have been forged from iron. She swung with her right and cracked the rock against the side of his head.

“Fuck all,” he grit out between his teeth.

That was English.

She understood English.

“Oh my god,” she gasped. Was this another American prisoner? Some other poor soul they’d snatched off the streets of Mukdahan?

“
Emery
, fuck all.”

“Matt?”

“Who else is stupid enough to come after you?” He shoved her hand away and lifted his one good hand to touch the side of his head.

Matt was there. Everything would be okay. It was an unrealistic notion but she clung to it. Emery scooted to his side, trying to keep her hands out of the mud and rotting vegetation.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know it was you.” She hadn’t cried yet, but her nerves were breaking. She sniffled and felt the first, hot tear coast down her cheek. She swiped her hand on the last clean spot of clothing and reached for him. “You’ve got mud all over your hand. Let me.”

He froze, and for a moment she thought he would push her away. Matt was good at that, putting distance between himself and the people who loved him. Like her. Not that he knew. She’d had a grand plan to tell him on this trip. Or try to.

Instead, he held completely still. This close she could see the faint shine of light in his eyes. He’d always had great eyes, the color of the bluest water, clearest sky, so blue they hurt. With his silent permission, she gently probed the lump with her fingers.

“Skin’s not broken. I’m sorry.”

“Not too bad.” He blinked and glanced away from her.

“What are you doing here? Where’s everyone else?” She bit her lip to keep a hundred other questions inside. Another tear stole down her cheek. She was not meant for situations like these.

“What do you think I’m doing?” He turned back to her. “Aw hell, don’t cry.”

She sniffled again. “I’m so sorry.”

The rain began in earnest. One moment they were dusted with light droplets, the next the skies dumped gallons on them. Matt urged her back against the wall and crawled next to her under the overhang.

“If they don’t kill us, the water will,” he grumbled.

She shivered and scooted closer. He was warm and she was cold. Even when the sun had been up for a few hours, she hadn’t really thawed out. Matt shifted, no doubt uncomfortable with her sitting on his left side, but she didn’t care. She was scared and he was there.

“Come here.” He sounded resigned as he looped his arm over her shoulder.

Emery burrowed under his jacket. How often had she dreamt of doing exactly this? She didn’t know him anymore. Not since he’d been discharged. But she wanted to. His arm tightened against her, but something was missing.

“Matt?”

“Hm?”

“What happened to your arm?”

 

His fucking arm.

Why the hell did it always come back to that one damn thing?

“They didn’t much care for a man with a hook for a hand.”

The prosthetic was gone, leaving him with a stump just below his elbow that was abso-fucking-lutely useless. About as much good as he was to her now, but when one of the kids at the orphanage came running in screaming about two men pushing Emery into a boat, he’d gone ballistic.

“What are they going to do to us?” Emery’s voice was so small, so broken it hurt him. His sister, Sarah, and Emery were
the literal definition of joy and happiness. People like them needed protecting, but a whole platoon of men might not be enough.

“They’re traffickers, and not the good kind. We’re Americans, near the border. They probably know they won’t be able to sell us, so they’ll kill me if I’m lucky and…” He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t put Emery and brutality in the same sentence.

She shuddered and held on to him tighter. He’d give the rest of his left arm for this to be happening at home, or even the hotel. Emery clutching his shoulders, the little sounds she would make in pleasure. Blood rushed to his cock. Of all the times for him to get wood, this was the worst.

Lightning lit up the sky followed by a crack of thunder. Their clothes were soaked and coated with mud and grime.

“If I’m lucky they’ll what? Kill me too?”

She wasn’t that naïve. Emery worked all over the world on humanitarian projects and regularly went to dangerous areas. They’d thought it was safe in Mukdahan.

“Yeah,” he lied.

“No one’s going to come after us?”

“They will, but it’ll be too late.” He rested his chin on top of her head. If it weren’t for the mud, she’d smell of jasmine.

Some hero he was. There was little to no chance of her coming back alive, so he’d gone after her. He wasn’t much use anymore. Why would he have thought he could save the damsel in distress?

They sat in the rain and the mud, clinging to each other. Every so often a bolt of lightning would flash and Emery would flinch and squeeze him a bit tighter. It was probably a good thing he didn’t have another hand. He might not stop himself from touching her. Brush his fingers through her spun gold hair.

“I had a crush on you in high school,” Emery said quietly.

One moment then two slipped by. Had he dreamed those words?

“You were pretty cute back then.” Hell, she’d been the material of boot camp jerk-off sessions in a fucking cheerleader uniform. She’d been so excited about making head cheerleader, and all he could think about was her giving head.

“So why didn’t you ask me out?” She tipped her head back and stared up at him.

He shifted a little. “I was six years older. That would’ve gotten me into some serious trouble.”

“Not with me.”

“Why are you telling me this now?”

“If I’m going to die I might as well ask. I’m cold.” Her teeth were chattering like a jackhammer; the fear and weather weren’t helping her either.

“Come here. Sit on my lap. It’ll get you out of the water at least.”

Emery slid across his thighs. Her clothes were caked with mud, and she was ice cold. She settled against his chest, and he tucked her under his coat. He wasn’t afraid of death—they were old pals—but he didn’t want this for Emery. He had to think of something to get them out.

“You okay?” he asked.

Mud streaked her cheeks, tendrils of hair were slicked to her brow, and even in the near-darkness he could see the bump on the side of her head. She was still beautiful, wild and crazy, sweet and tender. She’d driven him crazy over the years. He hated that this might be the way she saw him last. A washed-up SEAL with nothing to offer her. Not even an escape plan.

 

Emery wiped away some of the mud caked on Matt’s face. If she got the rest off would there be a suit of armor under there?
She appreciated him telling her the worst-case scenario, but she didn’t believe their options had run out. There was always hope so long as they were breathing.

If this was it, she didn’t want to spend her last hours being scared. Not when Matt was there. She couldn’t read him, but she refused to allow his stern stare to cow her. She might not know much about the man he’d become, but she recognized that core of strength he’d always had.

She rested her forehead against his and dropped her gaze to his mouth. He had great lips for a guy. The last time she’d been this close to him, she’d been afraid of kissing him. Now she knew what real fear was.

Matt held still as she closed the distance between them. The instant her lips touched his everything else faded away. His arm around her shoulders tightened, plastering her against his chest. She cupped his cheek and opened for him. His tongue thrust into her mouth. His stubble rasped against her and she melted. Heat blossomed in her chest and spread through her body. The reality of kissing him was better than anything she’d dreamed.

A peel of thunder startled her into sitting bolt upright, gasping for breath and dizzy.

“It’s just thunder,” Matt murmured against her neck.

They were in a pit, and there were people out there who might decide killing them was less bother than feeding them. Her desire withered, and she collapsed back against his chest.

He cradled her close, offering no false words of comfort.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and buried her face in the crook of his neck. “I should have kissed you a long time ago.”

A bolt of lightning flashed so near she smelt ozone. Sparks flew overhead and someone screamed. Her heart jumped. Any moment they were going to come for her.

Matt stood, dragging her to her feet.

“What are you doing?” Her feet were so numb she stumbled and Matt had to steady her.

He pressed his back against the far side of the pit and dragged in a deep breath through his nostrils. “Do you smell that? The building caught on fire. Which side flips up?”

“What?” She lifted up on her toes, but couldn’t see anything.

“Which side, Emery?”

“That side.”

His gaze bored into hers. “This might be the only chance we get. I can’t climb up with one hand. I need you to give me a boost, and then I can pull you out.”