Everything in him screamed for him to hurry, his body pumping blood, his arms strong and sure cutting through the waves. When he was certain this was the spot, he dove and searched all around until he saw a dark blob in the water beneath him.
He plunged deeper, going after the wriggling form. She wasn’t panicking but undulating her torso and legs, using the natural buoyancy of her body and her kicking feet to reach the surface.
Once again…this woman turned him on in more ways than just sexual.
He closed in on her and grabbed her by the back of her shirt and headed for the surface. When they broke, she let out a hard breath, sucking in air as they bobbed in the rocking crests.
He untied her hands, and she threw her arms around him as he clasped her close, and they held onto each other.
Fifteen minutes later, the RHIB picked them up and another fifteen, they were back aboard the USS Ronald O’Rourke where his angry but determined LT finally let him repair his shoulder so the stitches would stay and shoot him up with a steroid. Their LT didn’t have time for painkillers. They were once again on the hunt.
As one, the wolfpack howled again for their missing member.
Never give up, never give in, never stop being ready for that fight.
4
They left 2-Stroke on the floor of the helicopter, and during the flight to wherever they were going, he didn’t once wake up. Chry was forced to sit close to Zasha, who was worried that Chry would also try something. But once again, Chry was going to bide her time. It was patience, clear thinking, and calm that were going to get them out of this.
She looked down at the man she’d known as a boy and found that nothing…nothing about his character had changed. She had to admit Neo was different. Quieter and far more reserved until someone was threatened. Then there was another side to him that almost scared her.
Chry smiled slightly, remembering what he had been like when she’d first met him. They had been in the same grade since Neo was eight and had come to live with his father after his mother’s death. It had been whispered around school about his circumstances, that he was Pierce Teller’s bastard son, the rumors ugly and strange to her at eight before she’d grown up and matured enough to understand what rape was and the consequences of it that had brought Neo into the world.
As he grew up, he appeared indifferent and somewhat unapproachable, and there was something about him that had made her feel uneasy. It was clear, however, that was not an opinion shared by the other girls in the class.
In high school, he had been tall, with his mop of chestnut hair, he had a slim but wide-shouldered build. Neo garnered considerable attention. Granted, he had the most incredible eyes she’d ever seen—deep-set and sexy, with thick curling lashes—and a tan of the perpetual surfer boy. His looks were never a debatable issue, but his aloofness was, and Chry personally thought, at first, he was a little too stuck on himself. He always sat at the back of the room, his long, lanky frame semi-sprawled at his desk, an expression of disinterest on his face, as though he had mentally separated himself from the rest of the class. He was by far the best student, and both teachers and students openly acknowledged that fact.
It wasn’t until she had been threatened when they were in eighth grade that they had started to get to know each other. It was then that she found out that Neo’s aloofness was his layer of armor. Armor that hid a bona fide knight beneath all that teenaged angst. She found his maturity and honor increasingly sweet and endearing.
Hanging around with him became second nature as a real closeness developed between them. In many ways, he was easier to be around than anyone in her class or home. She loved her grandmother fiercely, but her time was always limited. There was also a slew of foster kids that took up a lot of time and energy.
Neo became someone very special and significant in Chry’s life, a friend, a confidant, the brother she never had.
It wasn’t until their freshman year in high school that he had been more intractable, even to her. Something had happened over the summer he wouldn’t talk about. It wasn’t as if their friendship had…diminished. It was more like Neo had retreated inside himself. He was always working out, running, pumping iron, doing pushups, pullups, swimming, and martial arts at the local YMCA, adding muscle and definition and driving her mad with his distance.
But even then, even with all that had happened to him, he had come to her rescue at thirteen and everything seemed to change once again. She had developed a wild crush on him, but he had been nothing but a gentleman, and even as her hope blossomed, it had been dashed when he left without a word before the graduation ceremony. Sitting there with all their classmates hadn’t felt like a new beginning, but a terrible end. She’d only discovered later, from Dean, that he had gone off and joined the Navy.
She believed that one of the reasons she’d joined the CIA was because of Neo, because of what he had done with his life.
He stirred, his moan soft and painfilled. The light from the rising sun spilled over his face, contouring his features with shadows, the sharp angle of his jaw harder than she remembered, the straight dark lines of his brows, the seriousness of his gaze…and the world’s most amazing mouth.
In the distance, as the sky brightened and a new day dawned, she could see nothing but green below them, a huge forest with no sign of civilization. She closed her eyes and from somewhere, a well of determination, she found the hope to continue to fight. They were both alive, and they would escape or get rescued. Their team had come so close.
The helo descended and the drop brought 2-Stroke fully awake. His lids popped open, and he turned his head to look at her. His eyes were burning with regret that he hadn’t been able to shoulder her out of the chopper. It made her gut churn to think if he had succeeded, he would be all alone with these assholes and she might have been safe, but unable to be thankful for his selfless act. She’d rather be here, fighting alongside him.
As the helicopter continued to descend, the dense overgrowth of the forest opened to reveal a huge structure. As they drew closer, it looked to her like a logging camp.
The helo touched down, and the wind generated by the blades made her shiver as the doors opened and Zasha shoved her out. The ground beneath her bare feet was cold. She wondered if she would ever be warm again. The guard dragged 2-Stroke out, and he slumped against the large man as if his legs couldn’t carry him.
He looked at her from beneath that mop of chestnut hair, looking beat up but not out of the fight. She realized if he tried anything here, it would be useless. They exchanged a look that said later.
Zasha prodded her and she broke eye contact with 2-Stroke. They moved across the camp, the workers barely paying them any attention, obviously used to this type of situation. Walking up the hill, Chry noticed the corral of horses. Several were saddled, some milling around eating grass. It was clear they must use these animals to travel around. She tucked that away, thinking horses didn’t need keys and were very easy to borrow.
She’d never ridden, but in this situation, she’d be willing to play cowgirl. When they got free, and they would get free, they would need some fast transportation. They marched them up a dirt road to a residence constructed with gorgeous wood and flagstone and river rock. It looked like an upscale mansion that would look right at home in LA or New York. Darko obviously loved to live large, and she had to wonder if he owned this logging operation. Could the crime lord be involved in a legitimate business?