Renata laughed. “He is that for sure.” The same goes for his handler.
After playing with him for several minutes, they went back inside. Jugs disappeared into Max’s room and Renata helped Carolina pick up the plates and glasses. Before she went back to the room, she moved the clothes from the washing machine to the dryer.
“Good night, Renata. Don’t hesitate to wake me if you need help with Max.”
When Renata entered the bedroom, Max was still asleep. She climbed onto the bed and lay down next to him.
She felt his forehead and was still worried about how hot he was, his skin scorching and dry.
In his restlessness, he’d pushed down the sheet, and Renata couldn’t take her eyes off his chest. It was broad, his flat nipples dark against his tan skin. His throat was powerful. A vein pulsed at his neck, and she wanted to put her mouth there, the hollow of his throat awash in shadow. He was easily the most beautiful man she’d ever seen.
She moved closer, drawn almost against her will. Power seemed to pulse beneath his skin. She wanted to feel it as if it could be transferred by touch. One arm was thrown over his head, the biceps rounded even in sleep. And before she realized what she was doing, she was tracing that heavy muscle with her fingers, soft skin over steel. She swallowed, her body reacting to him, well aware that he was naked in the dark shadowed bed.
She traced his skin to his shoulder, broad, also heavy with muscle. His collarbone tantalized her. She followed it until she reached the half-moon indentation, then she traced the line of his chest down to his abdomen.
The moon slipped from behind a cloud and cast his gorgeous body in delineated silver-lined silhouette. Her breathing stopped when she saw him fully erect, the length of him jutting up toward his belly.
He stirred, and she leaned back, sucking in air, her face flaming.
“What time is it?”
Her pulse skipped at his soft, husky voice. She took in a deep breath, forcing herself to hold his gaze steadily, despite what it did to the butterflies in her stomach. And the painfully tight points of her nipples. “Midnight.”
“I thought I felt…” He looked at her sleepy-eyed and sexy.
“What?”
“Your touch. Was I dreaming?”
“No. I was checking you for fever.”
He seemed to ponder that, his eyes glassy, and she braced herself for his response, already mentally kicking herself for losing her mind and invading his personal space.
“You were?” He watched her face with a scrutiny that was unnerving.
“Sure, I was,” she said firmly, brazening it out.
The twitch of his lips was more of a real smile now, one that made it all the way to his arresting eyes. And wasn’t that just lethal? She swore it made her knees go wobbly.
Before she could recover and respond, his eyes drifted closed. Her body was on fire, her senses reeling, leaving her aching and so turned on.
5
“Anna! The Team! They’re inside,” Dodger shouted and was up and racing for the building. The roof and upper floor had slid off like stacks of magazines and crushed the lower level entrance. This was an older part of the city with fewer earthquake coded buildings, and Hotel Rosa was one of those older buildings. His heart was in his throat as they worked, Professor beside him. Suddenly from the upper floors, 2-Stroke, Dragon, and Saint rappelled with the practiced ease of commandos down the ruined side of the structure, loaded with packs.
“What’s the status?” Saint asked, already assessing and treating several people with minor injuries in the street.
Dodger, Professor, and Pablo kept working with Dragon and 2-Stroke joining in. “Fast Lane, Anna, and Pitbull were in the lobby when the quake hit,” Dragon said.
“Hemingway and Shea were going down to the lobby. They may have been caught in the elevator,” 2-Stroke added.
“We dig out the front and get inside, and then cross bridges when we get to them,” Saint said, taking charge. “Just keep digging. We don’t have the luxury of scrapping this mission. There can be no failure in nabbing our target.”
“We all know this is going to put us behind schedule,” 2-Stroke said.
“Yes, but look around. We’re not the only ones who are going to be delayed. If there’s damage here, there’s damage at the airports across the region. No one’s going anywhere by air or land for a while. Gives us time to regroup.”
Dodger listened to the exchange. One part of his SEAL mind was on the mission, but the other part was too busy moving as much cinder block, brick, and debris as he could to make a hole big enough to enter the building and rescue the people inside—Anna, Pitbull, Hemingway, Shea, and Fast Lane his top priorities.
Professor set his hand against Dodger’s shoulder, pointing up. “Be careful. This stuff below is supporting the stuff above. Dodger nodded and looked around. He found some broken pieces of wood and used them to brace the debris as he kept digging.
He grabbed a cinder block and tossed it. His teammates were moving mountains of wood, furniture, and concrete like a well-oiled machine, yet it was a slow process. Saint joined in after he’d treated all the locals in the area. Dodger welcomed the extra hands as some of them helped to remove the debris.
They cleared without talking, sweating in the heat to clear a path, forming a fireman’s line to remove the rubble. Dodger and Professor were in the front, working stone by stone. Every so often, they were forced to stop to check the stability of the structure and brace it before continuing. Dodger worked to keep his concern at bay.
Finally, they worked a narrow opening into the mess of wreckage. Dodger slipped inside. The room was foggy with grimy particles and dirt raining down, and Dodger coughed in the dusty air. The lobby was partially destroyed. The light fixture was now in the middle of the sagging room, furniture overturned and crushed, luggage strewn across the polished floor.
“Anna! Fast Lane! Pit?”
“Here,” a weak voice responded.
“Pit!” Dodger jumped forward to where Pitbull’s voice had come from behind the desk. As he rounded it, he saw Fast Lane, Pitbull, and Anna. She was between them, shielded by his teammates.
“Come on,” he said, his voice cracking when he saw she wasn’t moving. “We’ve made a hole.” The two men rose, giving him enough space to kneel beside Anna. Please no, he thought, noticing the blood staining her face and shirt.
He slipped his arms under her, gently easing her into his embrace. Her head lolled listlessly back over his arm and his heart fractured. He touched her throat for a pulse and sighed, relieved at the strong beat. He clutched her, then stood and carried her from the ruins.
Her satphone rang as he got clear of the building. Crouching in the street, Fast Lane took the phone and started to talk. Inside, his teammates were rescuing whoever was alive in the rubble and getting Shea and Hemingway out of the elevator.
Crouching down, Fast Lane said, “They have a safe house for us to regroup. A doctor will meet us there. It’s not far from here.” He rattled off an address. “You get there, and we’ll follow once we get Hemingway and Shea free.”
“I can take you,” Pablo murmured, and they loaded up into his jeep, Dodger cradling Anna’s body.
She had a strong pulse, and she would be fine, he assured himself. Then there was Max. He was out there alone, his status and whereabouts unknown. The urgency he’d felt in getting to Anna and his teammates was double-fold for Max. He was alone and that wasn’t the way the brotherhood worked.