Tropical Heat

from Rescue Me anthology

By

Cherry Adair

Contents

Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine

Chapter One

Huren

Congo Basin

Central Africa

The brilliant lights of the operating room glinted off the scalpel being held to Doctor Elizabeth Goodall's slender throat.

Flat on his belly in the main air-conditioning duct directly above them, Sam Pelton aimed his Sig Sauer between the soldier's expressionless eyes. The state-of-the-art, multi-million dollar operating room wouldn't have been unusual if it had been in a large hospital in a major city anywhere in the world. But this OR was smack in the middle of the jungles of Central Africa.

"Obviously I was brought all this way for a reason," Beth was saying a little desperately. "Just tell me why. There's no need to threaten me with the scalpel." When she got nothing more than a blank stare, she dragged in a deep breath, held it, then let it out slowly. "Who's in charge? You?" she asked the guy with the blade.

Yeah. I'd like to see the asshole in charge, too, Sam thought, watching them through the small holes he'd pierced in the metal duct. This top-secret compound, deep in the Huren jungle, belonged to President Sipho Nkemidilm. What was so damn urgent that he'd had a prominent physician kidnapped from a bustling metropolitan hotel and flown thousands of miles to his hidden compound?

Something big. The compound was crawling with heavily armed, camo-clad soldiers. More of them than had been reported here a week ago. It didn't bother Sam that there were twenty trained soldiers in residence. Twenty to one weren't insurmountable odds. He had an arsenal of weapons on him and a heavier pack, fully equipped, concealed several clicks away in the jungle. Another smaller pack was hidden just outside the compound. He was loaded for bear, with skills and determination to use either his weapons, or whatever else was at hand. Whatever it took to expedite this rescue mission.

One of the men shoved a handful of blue fabric at Beth's mid section. It drifted to the floor as she made no move to accept it, and instead, glanced around the brightly lit room without moving her head. "Does anyone here speak English?" she asked with admirable calm.

They didn't. Or pretended they didn't.

Her red-gold hair, pulled up in its customary simple pony tail, was disheveled, and her amber freckles stood out in sharp relief on her pale skin. Her eyes flickered between the man holding her at blade-point and the three stony-faced, AK-47-wielding soldiers flanking her.

Two more uniforms were stationed at the door. A seventh man, presumably the anesthesiologist, stood hunch-shouldered and mute at the head of the operating table, clearly trying to make himself as unobtrusive as possible.

Wasn't going to save his sorry ass. Sam was ready, willing, and freaking able to blow the place to smithereens at the first opportunity. Once he had Beth. Once she was safe. Dropping down now, guns blazing, while personally satisfying, might get her killed. That was a risk he wasn't willing to take.

The son of a bitch with the scalpel at her throat would be the first to die.

They'd snatched the wrong doctor. His doctor, goddamn it. At least that's what Sam believed. Beth was a general practitioner, and while he, and the entire town of Brandon, Montana, thought she was extra special, as far as he knew she didn't have any more skills than the several hundred other GPs in attendance at the symposium she'd been attending in Cape Town. He suspected the tangos thought they'd snatched plastic surgeon Lynne Randall. And the second they realized their mistake, Beth would be dead.

And before they killed her she'd be begging to be dead faster.

He had to get her the hell out of here sooner than ASAP. People said Sam Pelton didn't have a nerve in his body, that ice water ran in his veins. But right now he was as scared as he'd ever been. Everything was different about this op because Beth was in the center of it.

Scalpel-dick jerked his head, indicating that one of the men pick up what Sam presumed were scrubs. The pulse at the base of Beth's throat pounded her stress level, yet she still refused to accept the clothing. Her sangfroid was remarkable. But that was Beth. Always cool, calm and collected.

That's it. Keep your head, sweetheart I'm right here.

Ignore the scalpel indenting her skin, Sam told himself savagely. Ignore the way her fear, and the stark white lights, leeched all the color from her face. Ignore the smudges under her eyes. Ignore the rapid pulse hammering in the hollow of her damp throat.

Ignore, God damn it, the fucking scalpel pressed to her carotid.

To do his job, he had to block Beth from his mind. Since he hadn't be able to do that for the past two years, it wasn't easy. He managed to do it anyway.

She swallowed hard, and the scalpel left a razor thin line of blood on her neck. Right where Sam had been craving to kiss her for months. And that was the last fucking time he'd resist the impulse to kiss her. As soon as he had her out of here, and it was safe enough to do so, he was going to kiss Beth like she'd never been kissed before. To hell with restraint. To hell with waiting.

Instead of freaking out, she reached up and gently tried to push the man's hand away from her throat. With the slight shift in angle, the thin blade cut a red line between her thumb and forefinger. She cried out, making a big production so all the soldiers could see the blood.

Christ. Had she done that on purpose?

There was much frantic debate in Hureni as they tried to figure out what to do. Her injury clearly scared the crap out of them. They'd wanted to scare her, they had no problem cutting her in small increments, but the injury to her hand had them in a panic. Beth had called their bluff.

She curled her fingers tightly into her palm, then cradled her bleeding hand against her chest. Blood stained her skin, shocking and redder than any blood Sam could remember. Maybe because Beth's skin was so pale. Hell. Maybe because this was Beth. His Beth.

Using every bit of control and all of his training, he clenched his teeth until his jaw ached. He might not be killing any of them, but he was counting the minutes and choreographing every move.

"I'm not resisting," she said, her voice, to someone who had studied her for months, slightly uneven. "I'm not fighting. There's no need to hurt me again. Call whoever's in charge and we ca—"

Her words were cut off with a choked scream as the man grabbed her hair, using her sassy ponytail as a handle, yanking her head back, leaving her arched throat naked and vulnerable.

Light glinted off the blade as he yelled his displeasure, his angry spit splattering her face.

Sam's heart did a double tap as the scalpel carved another thin red line on the smooth skin, this time her cheek. Three goddamn strikes and you're out, dick. Cool it, he told himself, almost jumping out of his skin with the need to act.

Now.

But his training told him that while the guy was cutting Beth, the cuts were small and not life threatening. Not to Beth. To the guy making them, it was a death sentence. The son of a bitch wasn't going to kill her, Sam rationalized, sweat beading his brow. The grunt with the scalpel wasn't high enough up the food chain for one thing, and for another, someone had brought a doctor here for a specific purpose. Hopefully he'd find out the who and why before scalpel-dick got any more aggressive with that blade and he was forced to kill him sooner rather than later.

Intel had reported that Nkemidilm wasn't in residence. He was off with his troops fighting the Mallaruzi on Huren's western border. Huren was also in the middle of a bloody, and extremely violent, civil war. The body count was sky high. Nkemidilm was a megalomaniacal sadist and was fighting with damn well everyone in and out of his country. He'd trained in Russia, his army carried American-made weapons, and he had absolutely no regard for human life. His allies were no better.

The cold air blasting around Sam did nothing to cool his temper nor did it dispel the fear churning in his gut as he watched the tableau beneath his hiding place.

Nervous perspiration made Beth's creamy skin look dewy, touchable. They'd let her remove the jacket to her black pantsuit, and her long-sleeved pink blouse was half untucked, sticking to her skin and smeared with dirt and blood. Even mussed she was sexy. She should be back home in Montana in her small clinic, dispensing suckers to damp-eyed kids and wearing the all-encompassing white coat of her profession. And giving him a hard time.

He'd tried talking her out of attending the medical symposium in Cape Town when they'd "accidentally" bumped into each other at the bank two weeks ago. South Africa was a country in flux. Not safe for tourists just yet, and counted as one of the most dangerous places in the world. Yet in spite of, or because of his warnings, she'd gone anyway.

Who'd taken Beth, and what the hell did they want with her? No. Not Beth. Doctor Lynne Randall. All Dr. Randall, safely sequestered in a local safehouse, could tell them was that Beth had gone upstairs to pick up some notes for her. Beth had been snatched moments after entering Randall's room.

Thank God his people in the Cape had been smart enough to squash the story from the press. None of the bad guys knew they'd kidnapped the wrong woman.

"If no one in charge is coming, then I'm—"

One of the soldiers answered in Hureni. Sam didn't speak the language, and clearly neither did Beth.

Just her eyes moved as she addressed the anesthetist standing across the room. "Do you speak English?"

He gave her a blank stare and her attention returned to the man with the blade at her throat, who was still yelling at her. "I have no idea what you're saying," she told him crisply, raising her voice just enough to get his attention. Her hand must hurt like hell, but she wasn't paying it any attention.

Scalpel-dick yelled louder, inches from her face. Louder didn't mean she could comprehend him any better.

The door opened and he shut up like a tap being turned off. The rest of the soldiers in the room snapped to, straight-backed, weapons at the ready-attention. Sam already had the Sig aimed at the potential new danger.

His heart skittered.

Shit.

The Butcher. Tau Thadiwe.

The terrorist was currently on every country's Capture Dead or Alive list. Six feet seven inches of solid muscle, with skin the color of dusty ebony, and currently dressed, unselfconsciously, in a short white hospital gown. Flip-flops snapping on his enormous feet, he strode into the room surrounded by a phalanx of soldiers.

If anyone was worse than Nkemidilm it was his old friend Thadiwe. The two men shared an alliance that went back to their covert training days in Russia some thirty years ago. The counterterrorist group Sam worked for was aware that Thadiwe was responsible for doing a little extracurricular work after his and Nkemidilm's basic training ended. Torture was both Thadiwe's specialty and his passion, and he'd educated Huren's leader in the fine art of persuasion until both men were feared and revered for their sadistic skills.

The man was an amoral psychopath. Not only was he chillingly good at what he did, he relished his work.

Speculation had been rife about his whereabouts for months. And here he was. Deep in the jungle where no one would think to look. Thadiwe and Nkemidilm had done a damn good job keeping their friendship off the radar. They hadn't been seen together since 1996.

"Doctor Randall, thank you for coming," Thadiwe said in unaccented English. Sam didn't know if he felt better or worse getting the confirmation that they'd snatched the wrong doctor.

Thadiwe approached Beth but didn't extend his hand, nor did he instruct his men to stand down. Suddenly he noticed her still bleeding hand. Hard to fucking miss since the left side of her pink blouse was stained red. The tango scowled.

"I wasn't aware that I had a choice," Beth said dryly. "Please tell this man to put the scalpel down. I'm no threat."

Thadiwe turned on the man beside her who still had the scalpel at her throat.

Move, Beth. For fuck sake, move out of the way.

Without a word Thadiwe pulled the HK out of the holster of the soldier next to him and shot his man point-blank in the face. Beth flinched, jumping back as blood and brain matter spattered the area. She moved directly into Sam's line of fire.

For several stunned seconds nobody moved, then, his eyes on Beth, Thadiwe snapped his beefy fingers. One of his men rushed to hand him a handkerchief which he used to wipe the blood off his face. The white gown he wore now had red polka dots all down the front.

Sam knew who, and he had a pretty good idea why. He prepared to fire. Move Elizabeth!

"My apologies for the manner in which you were transported here, Doctor," Thadiwe wiped his hands, then tossed the bloodied cloth aside. "My men tend to be zealous in their interpretation of my instructions."

Beth's shoulders were stiff, and she was barely breathing. It was almost better not being able to see her face. Sam wanted to curve his hand reassuringly around her vulnerable nape.

"What is it you expect of me, Mister—?"

"Tau Thadiwe," he said, signing her death warrant. Whatever surgery he wanted Beth to perform on him, he had no intention of letting her live afterward. "Prepare yourself to do facial reconstruction immediately, Dr. Randall."

"There's nothing wrong with your face," Beth told him after a brief pause. "I can't imagine why you wa—"

Thadiwe backhanded her. She staggered, but quickly recovered. Too quickly. God damn it, a fraction of a millimeter more and Sam's shot would have take off the top of her head. The tango's hand print was a livid red mark on the curve of her check. "What—?"

"Unless they are in reference to the procedure or my health. No questions."

Sam shifted the muzzle of the Sig the necessary fraction of an inch to aim at the parallel lines between Thadiwe's eyebrows. You're about to die of lead poisoning, asshole.

The need to take out the tango made Sam's entire body itch. He was ready to drop him right there. Right now. Beth chose that moment to shift, blocking his shot again.

Move to the left a few inches. Come on, sweetheart. Just a couple of inches.

"You are here to do my reconstructive surgery. You're the best. That's why I ensured you would attend the symposium in Cape Town."

"You were the secret benefactor that paid L—my way to Cape Town? I don't know who you are, but there are easier ways to schedule surgery than kidnapping the doctor."

"Not just a doctor. You, Doctor Randall. You are the preeminent facial reconstruction plastic surgeon in America, are you not?"

Beth still blocked the shot. For Christ sake, don't tell him who you are, Sam thought, wishing to hell telepathy was of one of his skill sets.

"I'd be more receptive to your request if you'd made an appointment," Beth said coolly, and Sam breathed a silent sigh of relief. Smart girl. He shouldn't have underestimated her.

Thadiwe clicked his beefy fingers, and one of his men handed him a large manila envelope. He rooted around inside to find what he wanted, then handed her several photographs. "This is what I want my new face to look like."

She glanced at the pictures, her ponytail brushing the pink, blood-speckled, collar of her shirt, then said smoothly, "I can't perform surgery without extensive lab tests, X-rays—"

"The lab tests were done last week, as were these X-rays and photographs." He handed her the envelope. "Everything you need is here."

Her ponytail jerked as she looked up at Thadiwe. "Surely you don't expect me to do it now?"

"I wouldn't have brought you here otherwise."

"But this type of surgery has to be done in stages. Over several months, surely you k—" Clearly he wasn't aware of how long the procedure took. "As you can see, I have a deep cut on my dominant hand," she told him calmly, holding out her injured hand. Beth was left-handed, not right. But she was playing every card she had. "Obviously performing any type of surgery now is impossible."

"Yet you will manage, Dr. Randall, or I will not hesitate to kill you."

Beth blinked and curled her injured hand toward her body. Thadiwe moved closer, and Sam's finger rested against the trigger, in case the son of a bitch made a wrong move. "I can't."

"You can," Thadiwe slowly ran his finger over the creased frown in Beth's forehead. "And you will. Your husband leaves for work at 6:15. He drops your baby off at Apple Tree Day Care I have your mother's home address in Hollywood, your brother's too—congratulations on his wife's pregnancy. And your grandfather, well, it would be a shame if anything happened to him at the nursing home—In other words, Doctor Randall, if you fail to cooperate fully, I will have your entire family slaughtered by morning. All it will take is one phone call."

Sam's mouth tightened. Even though this wasn't Beth's family Thadiwe was threatening, it was Lynne Randall's—a doctor who was guilty of no more than being the best in her field. Beth's friend.

"Leave my family out of this. All right. You give me no choice. Your surgery will take upwards of twenty hours." She pulled out some of the paperwork, then took a moment to scan the information.

"You have high blood pressure." She glanced up at Thadiwe. "I appreciate your state-of-the-art OR, but what happens in the event of an emergency that I can't handle alone? We're in the middle of the jungle, hundreds of miles from anywhere." Her hand was leaving blood stains on the manila envelope, and it made Sam crazy to see her hurt when he was right there and should have been able to protect her. Even from herself.

"There are dozens of factors to consider. A reaction to the anesthetic. Clotting issues that could cause excessive blood loss. Underlying, undiagnosed pre-existing conditions. Even though you've been treating your high blood pressure, there's still a possibility that you'd stroke out from the stress such a complex medical procedure will put on your body. Especially since you insist on having several procedures done at once. It's risky. Very risky."

Sam's estimation of her b.s. ability went up. The type of surgery Thadiwe wanted would take half a dozen procedures over the span of several months, not hours. Beth was playing along, and buying time.

"How close is the nearest hospital with well-trained emergency room staff and a competent cardiologist?" she asked calmly as she flipped through Thadiwe's paperwork.

"An hour by helicopter. You'd better not make any mistakes, Doctor Randall. If anything goes wrong, if I should come to any harm while under your scalpel, my men have instructions to torture you. You will die in agony and very, very slowly."

Her head jerked up. "And you think that threatening me will scare me into doing a better job?" she demanded, letting her annoyance leak into her voice. Annoyance. Not fear. "I'm a surgeon and bound by my own ethics to do you no harm. But to do that, I'll need to rest first. I've been kidnapped at gun point, and tied hand and foot for six hours. I'll perform your surgery in the morning if you give me your word that afterward I'll be returned to Cape Town in good health. Do we have a bargain?"

Christ she sounded cool. Everyone in the room knew the second Thadiwe got what he wanted she'd be dead.

"I'll need post-operative care."

"Kidnap a nurse," she said dryly.

"I'll give you two hours to rest and study my file."

"That's not enough time. My God, you want every bone in your face rearranged. Do you honestly think that studying your X-rays and photographs for two hours will be sufficient time? I would never allow an exhausted, ill-prepared surgeon to do major surgery on my face."

"You're the best in the world."

"Be that as it may, I'm not at my best now. And you want the best when it comes to this!" She held up one of the photographs. "Give me ten hours, and I'll—"

"Two hours."

"No. You might as well save time and kill me now, then go and kidnap another facial reconstruction specialist." She thrust the envelope at his massive barrel chest. "But you know, and I know, Mr. Thadiwe, that long before you find anyone else of my caliber, I'll be ready to do your surgery. You kidnapped me because I am the best. Don't be stubbornly foolish enough to rush me. You'll have the face you want by this time tomorrow night."

Thadiwe glanced at the $200,000 Girard-Perregaux watch on his thick wrist. "I'll give you six hours."

"Eight. I'll be ready."

"Seven."

Beth said nothing. Silence throbbed between them. Finally the man caved, and he nodded. "Not one second past seven A.M."

Sam eased his finger off the trigger.

Chapter Two

A callused hand clamped over Elizabeth's mouth, waking her with a heart pounding jolt. What the … ?

One of Thadiwe's guards?

God forbid, Thadiwe himself? Chills of pure terror chased over her skin making the fine hairs on her arms and the back of her neck stand up.

She hadn't meant to fall sleep, but half an hour after she'd come to the room, the lights had suddenly gone out. She'd fought exhaustion and lost.

The man whispered something, but she couldn't hear him over the thundering in her ears. Cold sweat replaced the tropical heat of the room as she struggled to break free of the strong gag of his fingers. Whoever he was, his hand covered half her face, making it hard to drag in a breath. What air she could suck in smelled of clean male sweat mixed with the chemical stink of insect repellent. He could be any one of one of the guards.

There'd been two stationed right outside her door when she'd tried to leave the room just before the lights went out. But this wasn't one of them, not unless he'd taken a shower recently. It didn't matter who he was, she'd been scared long before this guy had shown up. Afraid that the guards would add rape to their list of duties.

Elizabeth fought harder.

"Shhh. Promise not to scream, and I'll take away my hand." The rough-edged voice, low and elusively familiar, was now only a few inches from her face.

In your dreams, pal. The second she was free, she was going to scream until the entire household came running. And then what? She didn't think it likely that Thadiwe would come to her defense—although he might shoot the rapist.

Elizabeth nodded to indicate compliance, then sucked in a breath in anticipation.

"Damn, you give stubborn a new meaning, woman." His whisper was laced with humor as his lips replaced his hand, covering her mouth which was open, ready to yell. "It's me, Sam," he said hoarsely against her parted lips before the warm slickness of his tongue entered her mouth. His lips molded hers. His fingers tangled in her hair holding her still as he kissed her. The kiss wasn't violent, or aggressive. But it was—hungry in a controlled way that puzzled her.

He was a good kisser.

He tasted—Was she out of her mind?! She tried to shut her mouth against the sensual invasion.

"Ow! Shit, no biting."

With a palm to his bristly jaw, she shoved his face away from hers. The only Sam she knew was—"Sam Pelton?" she asked incredulously. Pushing her hair out of her face with her injured hand, she winced as she sat up.

He—Sam—crouched beside the bed. "Yeah. Don't scream, for God's sake."

The room was so dark she couldn't see her hand in front of her face. It was weird hearing Sam's voice here, and she considered the possibility that she was dreaming. She'd had plenty of dreams about Sam in the last few months. Most of them erotic. His presence was so out of context she couldn't make any sense of it, and sitting in the pitch dark whispering made the disorientation complete.

She was probably hallucinating. That was the only explanation. Sam had been a constant presence in her life for months. A constant frustration. She'd see him around town so often that she'd wondered if it was coincidence, fate, or maybe low-level stalking. But not Sam. He was a complete gentleman at all times, even when she'd dropped subtle hints after her divorce was final.

Either he didn't get subtle or he didn't want her. It didn't matter, the end result was the same, her simmering lust for him went unnoticed and unsatisfied. Which is why, she supposed, images of his tall, muscular body haunted her sleep night after night.

It also explained why she'd be hallucinating about him now, when she was probably only hours from death. Thadiwe didn't strike her as a stupid man. He'd eventually figure out she wasn't Dr. Randall, if he hadn't done so already.

She leaned over to turn on the bedside light, hoping the power was back on, but before her fingers reached the lamp, Sam clamped a hard hand on her wrist, startling a small yelp out of her constricted throat. He didn't feel like too safe, too controlled Sam in the dark. He felt dangerous, and edgy, and a little scary.

"I took out the generator." His warm breath stirred the hair near her ear, which made her shudder reactively. So he'd been the one to plunge the compound into darkness. No wonder Thadiwe's soldier's had been freaked out. She'd heard them running in the corridor outside her room as they tried to figure out what was happening.

Elizabeth rubbed her wrist as she pictured Sam's face with its bold, blunt features and dark eyes that gave nothing away. He wasn't handsome, but he was somehow compelling. Maybe because she sensed that what she saw wasn't who he really was. She'd always been fascinated by the way he moved with a controlled strength and an edgy awareness that was almost predatory. She'd never been quite able to figure out what made him tick. Although she'd spent many nights trying to figure him out.

Not that she wasn't grateful to have him here, odd as that was, but he was sure to be even more out of his element in a rain forest than she was.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded in his general direction as she got off the bed. This went beyond being neighborly.

"Rescuing you."

Talk about the blind leading the blind. Her pounding heart sounded like thunder in her ears, and her rapid pulse made her hand ache.

"Thank God. But how did you know I needed rescuing?" While she clearly needed help, Elizabeth didn't want Sam involved. She didn't want his death on her conscience.

"We'll talk about it later. First, take this doxycycline." Sam placed the antimalarial capsule in her palm. "Water." He held a flask to her mouth. Elizabeth took the pill and swallowed.

The flask was removed. "Strip." His voice deepened as he wiped a drop of water from her lower lip. Since she was licking it off at the same time, her tongue encountered his finger. A frisson that had nothing to do with fear spiraled deep in the pit of her stomach. They both froze for a heartbeat. His warm breath fanned her temple, and the heat of his body seeped through the thin, damp silk of her blouse.

While she'd love to have heard those words last month, or even yesterday, Sam's timing was off. "Strip!" Tempting as the request was, she blinked back her good sense. "Sam, are you insane?"

"You can't go out in the jungle dressed as you are. I've brought you a change of clothes. Hurry and change. I want to put medication on your cuts, and get you sprayed with DEET before we head outside."

With no antibiotics, she'd made do washing the cuts as best she could using the water supplied with her meal tray. An open cut in this climate could spell trouble. That almost made her laugh. How much more trouble could she be in?

Elizabeth could tell from the location of his voice that Sam was standing very close to her. But she hadn't heard him move which was a bit unnerving. He was well over six feet tall, so he'd be towering over her own five foot, five inches. The adrenaline rush hadn't left yet, and her blood still thumped frantically in her ears. He was still disconcertingly close. She swayed in his direction, and his hands shot out to circle her waist. "Steady."

She flushed and locked her knees. "Sorry. It's really disorientating being in the dark like this." Her lips tingled from their shared kiss. She never would have guessed at his passion, he kept it well hidden.

"Are you afraid of the dark?" he asked.

"Of the entire situation."

"Yeah, well I'm here to take care of that."

The tile floor was warm and slightly sticky under her bare feet, and the overhead fan barely moved the thick air as she stood there, trying to decide what to do next. "My shoes are somewhere. If you can break off the heels, it'll make running possible. Better than bare feet anyway."

"We need to bring them with us, but I brought you a pair of boots."

She locked her knees to prevent her body from swaying toward him again. What she wouldn't do right now for a reassuring hug. But Sam wasn't a touchy feely kind of guy. He never wore his emotions on his sleeve. At least not that she'd seen. Which was too bad, because she'd been attracted to him from the moment they'd met. Not that she'd ever given him any indication of it. They were neighbors. Friends in a way. She didn't want to rock that boat.

'"Here, let me help you," he said softly, sliding his hands from her waist to the front of her blouse. The back of his fingers brushed the upper swell of her breasts as he efficiently unbuttoned her blouse before she could protest. His movements were quick, but the feel of his warm fingers stroking all the way down the center of her body made Elizabeth short of breath. Insanely she wanted him to palm the weight of her breasts and relieve the ache in her peaked nipples. She wanted him to kiss her, and touch her, and do all the things she'd dreamed about doing with him.

"You can keep on your underwear," he said softly, not sounding as breathless and heated as Elizabeth felt. "Everything else comes off." His slightly callused fingers cupped her shoulders, then pushed the blouse off. The blouse fell to the floor behind her with a soft whoosh. Her cheeks went hot even though she knew he couldn't see her any better than she could see him. The temporary spurt of adventure that had brought her to Africa didn't extend to Sam seeing her half naked. Him Tarzan, her Jane. Not. She enjoyed the armor of clothing.

"What did you bring for me to wear?" she asked curiously. She couldn't begin to imagine Sam picking out a woman's clothes. Unless it was something slinky in red from Victoria's Secret. "A loin cloth?"

"Better." His hands went to the button at the waistband of her black silk pants, the graze of his fingers against her skin made her draw in her breath. "Get these off—" As he spoke, he unzipped and tugged, and before she could protest that she was capable of undressing herself, the smooth fabric fell down her legs like water, leaving her in nothing but a thong and a blush.

"Okay, step into the feet first."

She let Sam guide her movements for two reasons: one, she couldn't see, and he clearly could. And two, she enjoyed the feel of his hands on her. "Are you wearing night vision glasses?"

"Yeah, but I can close my eyes if you like." His voice was tinged with laughter. "Shy, Beth?

"Not usually, no. But I'm not an exhibitionist either." The fabric felt odd, but she obligingly placed her bare feet where he positioned them as he knelt in front of her. His warm, damp breath fanned her bare stomach as he leaned forward to pull the tight fabric slowly up her legs and hips. Elizabeth rested her hand on his shoulder for balance.

He nuzzled her tummy, by accident, or design, she didn't know. She tried to ignore the fluttering in her belly and the heavy rush of her blood. Down, girl.

After her ex, Rob, had told her he was leaving, she'd wanted her world shaken up. She'd wanted adventure. Excitement. She wanted, darn it all, to live life instead of hearing or reading about it. She was sick and tired of safe and predictable. Both in men and in her life. Rob had been safe and predictable. Until he'd turned unpredictable and run off with his Internet honey.

Well, Elizabeth had wanted a wild fling with someone inappropriate, too. Someone who made her blood race, a man who could make her breath catch. She wanted one of those high-octane, alpha males she loved reading about. She'd thought Sam fit the bill to a tee. Unfortunately he was clearly not interested in her.

Which was why, against all sane advice, she'd gone to the medical symposium in Cape Town in the first place. Yeah, she thought dryly. Look how well that turned out.

He palmed her ass, resting his face against her belly as he ran his fingers lightly across her behind. He inhaled deeply. "God, you smell incredible. Lemon and musk. I could eat you right now."

The feel of his exploring fingers, and the scalding heat of Sam's breath against her skin, was making her so hot Elizabeth had to bite her lip to prevent crying out. "Cool your jets, sailor, we're in deep shit right now. I'm presuming by rescue you mean remove us from this place as fast as possible?" She tapped his shoulder to get his attention, and was appalled at how disappointed she was when he removed his hands from her ass and his mouth from her stomach. She cleared her throat and took a small step away from him. "What's this? Some kind of body suit?"

"Made out of one of the toughest man-made fibers invented."

"Sam, I'm going to die of heat enclosed in this rubbery stuff. Let me put my own clothes back on, and—"

"LockOut will maintain your body temp at ninety-eight point six degrees. It'll also keep the bugs out. Lift your chin—" He zipped her up all the way. The fabric was lightweight and not that uncomfortable, even if it did cover her from neck to toes.

"Boots." He slid each foot into a boot, then laced it. "How's that feel?"

She stomped her feet. "Perfect." How did he know her size?

"Give me your hand." Cradling her right hand in his large palm, Sam applied a topical liquid antibiotic, by the smell of it, then, after waiting a few seconds for it to dry, covered the wound with a Band-Aid. "That should do it. Let me know if it bothers you. I can give you a shot."

She'd give herself the shot, thank you very much. But it was good to know he had medical supplies should she need them.

The salve felt cool, and the topical numbing immediately took away some of the pain. "Thanks," she whispered. "The only thing I had was cold water and the granular sugar they brought me with a meal."

"Sugar?" His voice came up from knee level, and she wondered what he was doing, and if he was about to touch her again. Her entire body tensed in anticipation. But by the sounds, he was gathering her clothes. Then she heard a zipper slide, then after a few seconds slide again.

She forced herself to take nice slow easy breaths. "Decreased the bleeding, promoted clotting, and when push came to shove, the only thing I had to discourage bacteria."

The scalpel's penetrating cut had left a fairly deep gash, ripe for anaerobic bacteria. In this hot, steamy climate even a small open wound was a concern. "How did you know about the cut?"

"I was watching. That was a hell of a brave thing you did. Letting that asshole cut you like that."

"It didn't stop his boss from demanding I do the surgery anyway. Besides, I'm left-handed."

"Yeah. I know. That wasn't the point; it must hurt like hell."

"Less painful than that guy cutting my throat. I shocked him just enough to make him nervous about trying to cut me again. What are you doing in Africa?"

It was the last place she would've imagined running into anyone she knew. Especially Sam Pelton.

A teacher in a war-torn, third-world country in the middle of a jungle. Sam appeared to be an intelligent man, but she couldn't imagine what the hell he was going to do to protect the two of them from gun-toting soldiers or a rain forest alive with four-legged predators.

Apparently God had a sense of humor.

"Sam, what kind of teacher ar—"

"Later," he told her, still speaking so softly she could barely hear him. "Hurry."

She was all for hurrying. "They brought me in by Jeep. I think I can find my way back to where it's parked—"

"We're walking out. Through the jungle, then down-river. I have a chopper waiting to fly us out of Huren."

The chopper sounded good. "That's crazy. Why walk when there are perfectly good vehicles—"

"I pushed one of their Jeeps a mile down the road, then hid it. The rest are disabled. When they discover you've left, they'll assume you drove out. They'll spend time fixing their vehicles so they can give chase. By the time they get around to doing that, you'll be well on your way home."

He sounded like he knew what he was talking about. From what she'd seen when they'd brought her here, Thadiwe's compound was surrounded by impenetrable jungle. The narrow dirt road had been heavily guarded when she'd been brought in. Elizabeth had no reason to presume that it was any different now. "How did you even manage to ge—" Get past the guards? Get into my room? Those were just the more immediate questions. She'd leave the biggies—like how he'd known where to find her—for later.

He silenced her with two fingers pressed against her lips. She nodded. His fingers lingered a second or two, then withdrew.

"Really, Sam, I think we should—"

He took her hand unerringly in the dark. "I can't wait to hear what you think. Later." He led her across the small room to the window. She tugged at his hand, trying to turn him toward the door instead of the practically hermetically sealed window. "Bars."

She'd been examining them when the lights had gone out.

"Not anymore." A trace of amusement laced his quiet voice.

She wasn't sure which shocked her more, the satisfied laughter she heard in his voice, or the fact that he'd removed the entire window. She'd never seen Sam smile in all the months she'd known him. Not once. And he was the least likely handyman she'd ever met. But there'd been three strong, one-inch thick vertical metal bars on the small window, and also an insect screen bolted to the outside of the frame. She knew. She'd inspected every inch.

She tried to imagine Sam yanking out the window… It didn't compute. Yet somehow he'd done it, because as they approached the opening she could smell the fetid greenness of the jungle and feel the thick, hot, syrupy air against her skin. She shivered.

"Insect repellent. Close your eyes," he said before applying a liberal dose to her face, neck, and hands.

She could've put the stuff on herself, but she enjoyed the sensation of Sam's big hands running gently over her face and neck. "Thanks." Mosquitoes could give one anything from an annoying bite to parasitic sleeping sickness. She was in enough trouble as it was.

Taking her hand, Sam's fingers tightened around hers, his hand cool and dry against her damp palm. "I'll go first then help you down."

Bracing one hand against the wall to orientate herself, Elizabeth listened to the rustle of animals in the undergrowth and the susurrus of leaves moving in their passage. To say that she didn't want to venture into the jungle, in the dark, was an understatement.

But it was the lesser of two evils. Still, she had the terrifying feeling that she was jumping from the frying pan into the fire.

"Climb out," Sam's voice was pitched so low she felt rather than heard it. "I'll catch you."

She didn't need help climbing out of a window three feet off the ground. What she needed was—Daylight. A tank that could cut a swath through jungle. A bazooka, or some other weapon that would—

What she had was a teacher. Had Sam brought a gun with him? Did he even know how to use the damn thing if he had? But even if he did have a weapon, it wouldn't be much help out here where the least dangerous animals were panthers, lions, and other carnivores. Thadiwe's men were heavily armed, and more dangerous and determined than any of the denizens of the jungle.

Thadiwe hadn't gone to all that trouble to kidnap and transport her to give her up without a fight. He'd send his men after her the second he realized she was gone. Beth considered and reconsidered the rock and the hard place. Either or. If she went with Sam, she had no doubt whatsoever that they'd be caught. And Thadiwe's retaliation would be swift and violent.

The dangers of being recaptured would mean sure death. Not only for herself, but for Sam as well. And she was damned sure that Thadiwe would make their deaths slow and excruciatingly painful. If she stayed, there was a chance that Sam would return in time to prevent her death. Yet staying meant she'd be forced at gunpoint to perform a surgical procedure she wasn't qualified to do. After which, she was pretty damn sure, they'd kill her anyway.

Either way, the end result would mean her death.

Damn it. She didn't have the luxury of time to debate the pros and cons of how quickly she was going to die.

Stay or go?

How were they going to find their way out of the jungle without help? Beth had no doubt that her captors knew every tree and leaf in this jungle. She and Sam wouldn't get very far before they were caught and forcibly returned to the compound. How much better off was she now than she'd been five minutes ago? Two of them, against God only knew how many armed soldiers.

"Stop over-analyzing," he said, his voice pitched so she could hear him. "Trust me."

She did trust him—and his ability to lead her out of this mess. Teachers were leaders, weren't they? A little. Maybe? Hopefully. Yes. He'd managed to track her to the middle of who-knows-where. Might as well go with his misguided but appreciated need to be a hero. Sam had no idea what he'd let himself in for. Knowing that squeezed her heart inside her chest.

Having him here, while it was terrific not being alone, was just going to get them both killed. "Go and find help," she whispered. It made sense for Sam to go and get reinforcements. One of them had to be practical. "I'll stall Thadiwe again in the morning." Practicality had its dangers, and now that she knew rescue was at hand, she wanted to get away from here so badly she shook with it. But it made more sense to lull Thadiwe and his men into believing that she was getting ready to do what they wanted.

Sam just had to return fast.

"Get your pretty ass out here, doctor. Now."

She hesitated. Unlike her sister, Kess, who made split-second decisions, and was rash to the point of foolishness, Elizabeth spent a lot of time weighing her options. She was a Libra, after all.

"Do it, Beth." It wasn't a request.

Fatalistic, she threw her legs over the sill, then slid into Sam's waiting arms. The footing was unsteady, and she realized she was standing on the barred window, frame and all.

His hands closed around her waist. "I've got you."

Blindly reaching out, she grabbed onto Sam's forearms to steady herself. He didn't feel skinny, or flabby, at all, she thought, surprised when his rock hard muscles flexed under her fingers as she teetered. She tried to picture those muscles beneath one of his gray suits, and couldn't.

"Good girl," he murmured, as he slid his arms around her waist. "There's just one more thing before we go."

OK God. "What?"

"This."

He'd kissed her twice. Once a few moments ago, when she'd had no idea who the hell he was, and once, in broad daylight, in her office at the clinic. A mind blowing, knocked-her-socks-off, fabulous kiss, and then—he left for a month with no word. Kess had told her to stop mooning over a school teacher and go find cowboy. Or a bronco rider with great hip movement. Or an astronaut whose kisses would take her to the moon. Kess wouldn't wait for a guy to make the first move. But Beth wasn't her sister.

Sam spread his large hand across her lower back, bringing the other up to cup her face. As he brushed his mouth over hers, she eagerly parted her lips. He touched his tongue to hers, and Elizabeth's heart thudded hard as he sucked it into the hot, wet cavern of his mouth. God. This is crazy… She stood on tip-toes to wrap her arms about his neck and draw his body flush against hers. The thin fabric of whatever they were wearing was almost no barrier at all.

His abs pressed hard against her aching breasts, and the ridge of his erection nudged tantalizingly against her mons. Elizabeth's breath hitched.

Blank. Her mind went completely blank. She couldn't even think as she blocked out everything but Sam, and kissing him the way she'd imagined kissing him for months. A sigh of pure pleasure escaped, as Sam tasted the inside of her cheek, then ran his teeth along the edge of her teeth before sucking on her tongue and making her almost sob with the pleasure of it.

A bird screeched, and Elizabeth flinched out of the sensual spell. There were a dozen different kinds of birds perched in the trees surrounding them. There were snakes, and wild pigs, and other animals just waiting to have them for a midnight snack. And here they were—

His warm, wet tongue slid along the length of hers bringing Elizabeth to heart-somersaulting attention again. He kissed her with slow, deliberate care. Hot and deep, taking her from zero to sixty between one heartbeat and the next. She tightened her arms around his neck and rose higher on her toes to bring their bodies flush at all the right places. Sam angled her head and kissed her like he'd die if he didn't. Hotter than the kiss he'd planted on her six months ago. Of course after that one he'd hauled ass and disappeared for a month.

Her husband had preferred closed-mouth kisses, if he kissed her at all. The kiss Sam had given her at the clinic had revved her engines and made her want more. A lot more. But that kiss was tame compared to this. That had been banked. This was Sam unleashed.

The stubble on his jaw was rough against her smooth skin, and a surprise. She'd never seen him anything but immaculately smooth shaven. She'd never seen him anything other than controlled. As he made love to her mouth, his hand slipped lower to stroke her behind through the thin material. Elizabeth felt surrounded by him, engulfed in his taste. A shudder of raw desire spiraled through her, bone deep and primitive. His tongue mimicked the sex act, making her throb and ache and pant, and crave the feel of his hands on her naked body.

She went hot all over as he dragged her hips back and forth against the solid ridge of his erection. Her brain short-circuited as his tongue raked across her teeth before plunging inside again.

Somehow she'd known it would be this way. That she would fall, all or nothing. She'd spent months protecting her heart. What a waste of time.

Nothing existed beyond the two of them. Not the danger, not the past. She wanted him to lay her down right there and then, unzip her from this climate-controlled suit, and take her right there on the muddy jungle floor.

Too soon Sam placed his hands gently on her arms and pulled them free from his neck. "Hold that thought. Gotta get going."

Hold thought? Her brain was filled with images of them rolling around on clean white sheets in a dimly lit room, and her heart battered at her rib cage like a wild beast trying to tear through. Hold that thought?!

The sounds of the jungle once again intruded.

"Okay?" At her nod, he said softly, "Let's put some distance between them and us. I need both my hands free. Grab onto my belt and hang on." He guided her fingers to the small of his back, and she latched into his wide utility belt, and his body heat made her own temperature spike.

"We're going to haul ass on three. All you have to do is hang on and keep up with me. Save your questions and trust me, okay?"

Trust him?

Who was he?

Chapter Three

The jungle never slept.

Nocturnal animals, reptiles, and birds growled, slithered or chirped as they were disturbed in the darkness. Thanks to the glowing visibility of his NVGs, Sam avoided stepping on a puff adder slithering across his path. Hissing, it inflated its body in warning. Sam stamped his booted feet to hurry it on its way. The adder was highly poisonous, and while it moved sluggishly, it could turn around and strike with lightening speed.

"Why are we stopping?" Beth whispered against his left shoulder blade.

"Cross traffic." He waited until the tail of the adder disappeared. He smelled lemon-scented Beth, and sex. Wishful thinking. After kissing her it had taken a while for the cockstand to go down. He was always in an uncomfortable state of semi-arousal when she was close. Touching her, kissing her, had almost put him over the edge. "All clear." He resuming walking.

The dense canopy of deciduous trees overhead made the swampy ground of the understory relatively easy to navigate. Still, the few small trees, man-high ferns, bushes, and snaking vines and roots made progress slow and treacherous.

So far he'd barely used the machete. Ignoring the tug at his waist, he balanced the HK MP5 fully automatic submachine gun with a laser sight in his right hand. He'd picked up the smaller pack and was loaded for anything that threatened them, from an aardvark to a zebra, two-legged mammals to everything else. Sam had absolutely no illusions about needing every bit of firepower he carried.

It was fortunate for him that currently there was a skirmish on the border between Huren and Mallaruza. The typical bands of rebels, soldiers from both sides, and soldiers for hire, were absent this far away. Usually they roamed the country, destroying everything and everyone in their path like human locusts. Looking for trouble and always finding it. And if not, making it.

Unless Thadiwe called in reinforcements, the odds were currently in Sam's favor.

Thadiwe expected his surgeon to report to his operating room at 0700. At 0701 he'd have his men fanning out to find her.

"We should go and get the Jeep you hid. We'd make better time." Beth whispered half an hour later, fingers still tucked in his waistband. Her steps didn't falter in the sultry darkness, although her quiet voice did.

"I have a boat waiting." Sam got a quick whiff of the lemon-scented soap she favored. Unlikely beneath the DEET, but imaginary or not, the lemon fragrance brought to mind every aching memory he had of Dr. Elizabeth Goodall. He'd seen her serious and professional in her crisp white lab coat at her small clinic back home. Pale red hair twirled up on top of her head in some smooth intricate roll that looked as though one tug would bring the entire mass tumbling down her back.

He'd salivated seeing her—long-legged and sexy, in jeans and a sky blue T-shirt, that shiny red gold hair flowing over her shoulders as she'd walked beside him to go to a movie. In that yellow sundress that cupped her small breasts and bared her pretty shoulders when he'd seen her with a girlfriend at that little Italian place she liked.

Jesus. She was so fucking out of her element it was surreal. Yet somehow she still managed to maintain that air of unflappability that her patients were used to seeing.

She was so delicate, so earnest. He'd spent a year and a half pussy-footing around her, biding his time. He was ready for Beth. She wasn't ready for him. Not then. She was as beautiful and fragile as a jungle orchid. It had been love at first sight for Sam. He'd decided she should be surrounded by children; he'd pictured her, a baby—his—at her naked breast. He'd never felt this alien blend of lust, love, tenderness and fear for any woman in his life. He wanted her with an intensity he'd never felt for any woman. Ever.

It was damned unsettling, he thought, shoving aside a six-foot long palm frond. He'd gone way past unsettled by the unexpected mixture of emotions he'd felt for this woman from the start and directly into determination and a strange kind of peace.

A loud croaking sound, followed by a guttural rurr, rurr, rurr, sounded several feet to the left.

"What do you think that is?"

"Colobus monkey. He's been following us for a while." Sam could see the little guy's bright, inquisitive eyes as he swung by his tail from a nearby branch, waiting for them to move on.

"As long as it isn't a damn bird," Beth muttered under her breath, making Sam grin.

While a portion of his mind was aware of every small movement in the foliage around them, and his ears engaged IDing every noise, a small compartment of his brain was reserved for flashing memories of Beth.

According to her patients she was an excellent GP. And sweet. And inordinately kind. And compassionate. And attentive. Everyone in the small Montana town adored Dr. Beth.

Sam had taken one look at sweet Dr. Beth's marmalade-colored hair, creamy freckled skin, and big brown eyes and fallen for her like the proverbial ton of bricks. He'd wanted to strip her and count every freckle. Unfortunately five minutes after meeting her he'd discovered she was married. Fifteen minutes after that he'd gotten an earful from Traci at the diner about the idiot she was married to.

They'd married while both were in med school. Beth and Rob were more like friends than lovers, which Sam found good to know. Rob was a nice guy, Traci told him. Too bad he'd fallen in love with a woman he'd met on the Internet. Dr. Beth was being really decent about it and doing what she could to expedite the paperwork to get it over with as quickly and quietly as possible.

Damn good thing. Because Sam didn't poach on other men's territory. Not that he thought for a moment Beth would do anything hinky behind her husband's back, even if she were tempted.

Sam thoughts had nothing to do with sweet, or kind. The second he'd seen her, his thoughts had turned carnal. Primitive. He wanted her hard and fast. Hot and sweaty. Slick and slippery. He wanted to have her on the counter at the bank. And on the hood of his car, on the floor of the only hotel in town. Hell, he didn't think that they'd make it to a bed the first few times.

He'd moved into a condo a few blocks from her house and waited for the divorce to be final. One look at Beth, and he hadn't been capable of staying away. Hadn't, God damn it, been able to think of much else. He imagined her naked, having her on her desk in her cramped little office at her clinic two doors down from the bank. He pictured her small high breasts, and imagined that her nipples would be a soft delicate pink, like her lips.

"You have reinforcements, right?"

She was as tenacious as a bulldog and her lack of faith stung. "I'll take care of you, don't worry." He was alone in this. It wasn't a sanctioned op. He'd come on his own. Beth was a personal matter.

"That's sweet, Sam."

Sweet? She didn't exactly exude confidence. And why should she? As far as she was concerned he didn't know one end of a gun from another. Eleven years in a private army guaranteed he knew how to use the MP5. He also knew some interesting, and painful, tricks with a machete.

"But what'll happen if you're bitten by a snake?" she continued, slightly breathless now that she was on a roll. "Or eaten by a lion?"

Jesus. "Odds are against it." He better stay hale and hearty. She stood zero chance of survival alone in the jungle. Less than zero if she was returned to Nkemidilm's compound and the man who waited there.

He used the muzzle of the MP5 to flip a curious, and highly poisonous, bush viper hanging from a limb in their path. It landed almost noiselessly in a thicket of vines before slithering into the underbrush. There'd be time to think about Beth's delectable body later. Right now he had to get them both the hell out of Dodge before Thadiwe's men caught up.

"How much longer?"

"Couple of hours." Give or take. He could almost hear her brain working as she digested the information.

"Don't you think I'd be better off going back and waiting for you to bring in some help?"

He heard her nervousness. So much for trust. "No, Beth, I don't." Sam made sure his barely a whisper was implacable. "We're meeting a guy with a boat. Don't worry. I'll get you out of here in one piece, I promise."

He stopped, and she stepped right against his back letting out a little huff of surprise. "There's a three-foot high log in our path. I'll go first then help you over."

Sam flung a leg over the mossy trunk and dropped down on the other side. Beth's breathing was a little fractured. Fear. Tucking the machete into the sheath strapped to his thigh, he leaned over the log, extending his hand. Not that she could see it in the crack under dark. "Give me your hand."

Blindly she held it out. Grabbing hold of her wrist, Sam gave a little tug. "Up and over. Straddle the log, then slide down on this side."

Her cold fingers felt ridiculously small in his. Her chilled, sweaty skin told him she was scared out of her mind. Despite that, she was keeping up and not falling apart. Not yet anyway.

He gave a little tug to help her up, then watched as she flung both legs over to his side. "Right here," he told her when she hesitated.

She slid into his arms. "Tha—What's that?

She was pressed against his semi-erection. "Don't worry," he told her dryly. "I'm not going to have my wicked way with you. Not here anyway."

She smothered a laugh. "Not that. That!'

That. "It's an MP5 submachine gun."

She put her hand on his chest, the smile still tilting the corners of her mouth. Sam wanted to kiss her in the worst way. This time he resisted.

Not the time. Not the place.

"Do you know how to use it?"

He huffed out a laugh. "Yeah." The fact that her body was still flush with his didn't exactly make his thinking process crystal clear. Taking her hand, he stepped back. "Know that outfit just outside of town?"

"That private military place?"

"Counterterrorist training site, yeah. I work for them."

"You—work for them? I thought you were a teacher?"

"Tactical instructor. I train special ops in weaponry for high-risk environments."

"Thank God," Beth gave a small laugh, her relief evident and heartfelt. "Better than I'd hoped. My highest expectation was that you excelled at playing paintball."

"I wouldn't trust your safety to anyone less than one hundred percent competent. If I didn't think I could handle the situation, rest assured, I would have sent in someone who could."

"Oh, God, Sam. I'm terrified out of my mind."

"It's warranted, sweetheart. You're in a bad spot. But this time tomorrow you'll be on your way home, I promise."

"Adventure isn't all it's cracked up to be." Beth slid a hand around his waist and leaned into him. "I couldn't have made it past the guards. And frankly, since I have zero sense of direction, I'm not sure how far I would have gotten if I'd managed to steal a Jeep and drive out. How far is the closest town?"

"Village? Ten miles or so. A real town? With transpo? A hundred."

She shuddered, and his arms tightened around her. Not romantic with a semiauto in one hand, and a machete strapped to his leg. But he'd take what he could get, when he could get it.

"I could have died here without anyone knowing."

"I knew." Only because he'd been called by one of the Cape Town operatives minutes after Beth had been snatched from the hotel. When he'd asked that they keep an eye on her, Sam hadn't specified just how closely he'd wanted her watched. Close enough not to be kidnapped would have seemed logical. To him anyway. Thank God they knew who to notify.

Sam had someone following the kidnappers' trail while he'd jetted halfway around the world to retrieve Beth from her captors.

"Thank God," she said with utmost sincerity.

"Ready?"

In answer she took hold of his belt, and Sam moved out.

"That OR was state-of-the-art, and equipped for anything and everything. I can only imagine how many millions of dollars it cost to install that way out here in the middle of nowhere."

"Could you have done it?"

"Nobody could have done it in his time frame. Interesting that he targeted Lynne Randall, but didn't research how long that procedure would take. And to answer your question: If I'd had to perform the surgery I could have done it, I suppose. But not well. The last time I did that sort of thing was during a five-month rotation in med school. Plastic surgeons—goods ones—are part practitioner, part artist. I can't even draw a stick figure."

Sam chuckled. Thadiwe was a butt ugly individual already. He didn't see how anything could make him look worse.

"Fortunately you won't be doing any surgeries. You'll be out of the country before he realizes you've gone."

"From your lips…"

Sam had already extrapolated Thadiwe's location to the next action. Without Beth he'd find another doctor. Somewhere. Right now Sam was the only one who knew where the son of a bitch was located. He'd have to return and take him out. But first things first.

Get Beth downriver by boat, then drive her the ten miles to the waiting chopper. Get her on board and on her way to Cape Town where a private jet waited to return her to Montana.

"How soon do you think they'll come after us?"

"Long after we're gone." No point anticipating the worst. He figured he had until daylight to reach the boat Desi was bringing to a preassigned location. They'd be cruising down the Congo River before Thadiwe's men realized she'd escaped. Three hours. Tops.

They needed five.

Chapter Four

A gorilla, sounding oddly doglike, barked in the distance. A warning? Or was the primate merely heralding daylight?

While it was still oppressively dark, Sam could almost feel the rapid approach of morning as the animals started to stir. Soon they'd be moving toward water. There was an elephant trail somewhere around here, he knew from his earlier trek in. Walking on that open trail would save time, but it also meant encountering animals who had the same idea.

Mosquitoes and gnats, flies and other insects didn't give a damn if it was night or day. They swarmed and dive bombed them as they walked. The gorilla barked again, and this time it was answered by its mate. Beth stepped in closer to him, her fingers tight on his belt.

He chuckled.

"Good grief, Sam," she whispered. "How can you laugh at a time like this?"

"I've finally got you were I want you."

"Kidnapped and running for our lives in a rain forest?"

"Alone. Without distractions."

"Boy, you live a crazy life if you consider this a place without distractions."

"No ex-husband. No clinic. A few tangos and a few plants are nothing."

She laughed. "A few p—Crazy man."

"The divorce was final a year from last week, right?"

She didn't say anything for several seconds. "How's that relevant?"

Sam held aside a branch, tugging Beth under his arm to clear it. Instead of replacing her hand on his belt, he shoved the NVGs out of the way on top of his head and turned around to curl her into his arms. "Plenty enough time to get over any lingering regrets or Monday morning quarterbacking about your marriage." Screw resisting. Having Beth this close in the steamy darkness was like waving crack under an addict's nose.

Resistance was futile.

He'd held off for a full year. He was done waiting for her to catch up. Sam brushed her lips with his. She kept her mouth firmly closed. Lifting his head, he said softly, "Put your arms around my neck and open your mouth."

"Mosquitoes," she mumbled, tightlipped.

He chuckled. "Tongues are mosquito-free zones," he assured her, nibbling at her now parted lips, which were firm and warm and tasted like promise. He tightening his arm around her waist until her body was pressed flush against his. Hell, she felt good. Better than good. Imagining them both naked, Sam closed his eyes and savored the moment while around them the darkness seethed with life. And death.

He drank Beth's sigh and deepened the kiss, sweeping his tongue into the warm recesses of her mouth. The first stroke of her tongue against his sent a shudder down his spine. His body went from a gentle, bearable simmer, to a full out boil.

Sam kissed Beth the way he'd wanted to from the first time he'd met her. Full throttle. No holding back.

Burrowing his free hand in her hair, Sam tilted her head back while he feasted on her mouth. Her arms slid around his waist, and she hugged him to her with the same ferocity he was feeling. Sam raked his teeth across her bottom lip, and she made a low sound of need as his tongue tangled with hers.

A macaw swooped between the branches over their heads, squawking loudly. Beth pulled away with a high-pitched shriek.

Hardly flattering.

Sam tightened his arm around her waist, feeling the thump-thump-thump of her heart against his rib cage. "Keep it down, sweetheart. It was only a bird."

"Sorry," she muttered. "It took me by surprise. I hate birds."

He brushed a kiss to the top of her head and hugged her more tightly. "You hate—How can you hate birds?"

"They're like rats with wings." Her entire body shuddered.

The place was a minefield of venomous snakes, flesh-eating animals and warring tribesmen, and she was afraid of birds? Sam shook his head. "Better get used to them." He pulled the NVGs back over his eyes. "There are over a thousand species in the rain forest. You'd better not scream every time you see one."

Good thing she couldn't see the hundreds of birds perched in the trees surrounding them. Three curious round-faced chimps had been keeping pace with them, swinging from branch to branch, their eyes gleaming white in Sam's NVGs. Now they stopped to watch, tails and fingers wrapped around branches.

"You couldn't be more out of your element if you tried." Sam resumed walking. The wet, muddy ground and vegetation underfoot made walking exhausting. Add to that her stress, and fear, and she needed a break. A break he didn't have time to give her. A moment or two kissing would have to do as both a break and a distraction.

He waved away a swarm of tiny moths dancing inches from his face and hoped Beth wasn't spooked by everything with wings. "Remind me again why coming to deepest, darkest Africa was a cool idea?"

"Adventure." This time her voice was dry, but it held a faint thread of nerves.

Adventure, for God's sake. He didn't remind her that he'd pointed out all the dangers inherent in going to one of the most dangerous countries in the world. And South Africa was a cake walk compared to Huren. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Next time you want goddamned adventure, take me up on my offer."

"Which offer was that? A ride on your motorcycle? Or the ride on you! I don't consider sex an adventure. Sorry, Sam, but that can't compare with this experience. Other than in both instances I'd be sweaty. Possibly panting."

"I'm insulted," he said, amused as hell. She'd be panting and sweaty all right. He couldn't wait. "You find sex boring do you?" A statement like that from a woman, especially this woman, was like waving a red flag at a bull.

"It's pleasant," she muttered, damming one of life's greatest perks with faint praise.

"With Bob it was pleasant."

"Rob."

"Because you weren't that into each other."

"We were married."

"Sex between two people who want each other more than their next breath can be explosive."

"I'll take your word for it. I've taken life far too seriously up until now. School, school, and school. Opening my practice, building my practice. Long hours at the clinic—I've been living life in black and white. I want a little Technicolor." She sounded resolved if not enthusiastic.

"Admittedly not as much Technicolor as being kidnapped at gunpoint, but something a few notches down from this would suit me just fine."

Sam vowed she'd have as much Technicolor as she could handle. Soon. "What does your family think about this wild hair you got about coming to Africa?"

"My sister's been in Mallaruza for a couple of months, and loves it. I thought starting out slowly by going to Cape Town would give me the flavor of Africa. I also wanted to experience the people and different culture—"

"You were kidnapped and taken to a country even more dangerous than the first."

"Thank you for reminding me. I'm already scared out of my wits. I bet my sister would love every insane second of this. Kess isn't scared of anything!'

"Then she's a moron," Sam told her bluntly. He hadn't met Beth's sister. But she sounded like a flake with a death wish to him. He had no idea why Beth was so determined that she could or should match her sister's rash behavior. Especially when she didn't have the stomach for it.

"So you're the sane one, and she'd the wild one?"

"I'm the boring daughter, and Kess is the bold one. She's always taking exciting vacations, which is why I wanted to do something bold for once."

"But why Africa? With your love of Italian food, why not Italy?"

"I'm saving that to go with—"

"With?"

"Somebody.

"Who?"

"I don't know yet," she said, sounding cross. "Someone special. Probably my sister."

Liar. If she were going to go with her sister she would have done so already. "Why didn't you go with your husband?"

"He liked American vacations."

"Yeah? How many of those did you take together?"

"We were too busy going to med school and starting the practice. There are plenty of places in the States where you can learn new techniques. Plenty of places that are exciting and different. Didn't have to be Africa."

"Didn't have to be. But was."

He set a grueling pace to make up time. When necessary, he slashed a path through the vegetation with the machete. Gnats and mosquitoes swarmed around them, heard but unseen in the dark. He'd made sure that every inch of exposed skin was covered in DEET, but the chances of getting bitten anyway were high.

Thank God she was able to keep up, her hand, a small, hard ball of a fist clutching the back of his belt. He'd always wanted Doctor Goodall's small hand down his pants, Sam thought wryly as he shoved a large leaf out of the way, then held it so it wouldn't lash back. This wasn't what he'd had in mind.

He was aware of her every breath as she trudged along behind him. He was pushing it, trying to put as much distance as he could between them and the compound before they realized she'd flown the coop. Trying to get to the river. Trying not to give her the tongue lashing she deserved for coming to a war-torn country in the middle of fucking nowhere to prove a point that wasn't even important.

A rustle in a nearby shrub made him turn his head just in time to see the horizontally striped butt end of an okapi. The deerlike animal, closely related to a giraffe, darted through the underbrush unleashing a troupe of chimps, who chatted and screeched their annoyance at being woken.

A glance up at the jigsaw puzzle pieces of charcoal-colored sky now visible between the tree canopy told him dawn was on its way. Once the sun rose, the animals would be in search of food and water, making them even more alert to predators. Which was precisely why Sam had set up the extraction point at the most likely spot they used to drink.

The original plan had been to arrive hours before the beasts of the jungle came down to the river. Letting the activity of the animals mask their departure. So much for that plan.

Changing strategy as he walked, Sam decided that he'd park Beth somewhere upriver, and go down and get the boat on his own. He'd move faster and could, if necessary, misdirect anyone on their tail.

They would come after her. Thadiwe had worked too damn hard to get a physician here. He wasn't going to let Beth go without a fight.

Well, Sam wasn't going to give her up without a goddamned fight either.

"How did you know where to find me?"

"I know people in low places." He didn't bother mentioning that he'd almost puked with fear when those people had informed him who had snatched Beth.

He'd come Africa to bring her body home.

Chapter Five

Sam had said it would take three hours to get to the river. Surely they'd walked for longer than that? While Sam moved through the stygian darkness with a lithe powerful sure-footedness, Elizabeth's calves and lungs burned, and her skin itched despite the temperature-regulated suit. She was damn sure Kess wouldn't be huffing and puffing, mentally begging to stop so she could sit down and rest. No, her sister would be leading the way. She might not know where she was going or how to get there, Elizabeth thought with a small smile, but no one following Kess would know it.

The only reality in Elizabeth's world was her grip on Sam's belt as she stumbled blindly in his wake, stubbing her booted toes on roots and vines. And while she could easily picture him in her mind's eye, that image didn't in any way gel with the man who'd come to rescue her. With the man who'd kissed her so passionately it had made her blood race through her veins and her heart hammer.

She hated not being in control. And she hadn't been in control of her own fate from the moment she'd been snatched from Lynne's hotel room.

"How's the hand?"

It throbbed, but that was to be expected. "Okay."

"Tell me if it isn't. Don't try and be brave. An infection here can kill you."

"I'm a doctor, Sam. I know. Thanks to you, it's f—"

Suddenly his palm covered her mouth. Elizabeth gulped down the reactive scream, but felt it vibrate in her chest as he whispered against her ear. "Shh. Company."

She froze. Oh, God. She hadn't heard anything out of the ordinary. If walking in the pitch dark through a rain forest filled with snakes and monkeys and more birds than anyone could imagine could be considered ordinary.

"Down." He tugged at her arm, bending low with her. His voice was so muted it was almost more a feeling than a sound. His arm brushed hers and she realized he was removing the pack from his back. She heard a soft thud as it landed on the damp ground next to her. "Know how to fire a gun?" he whispered, his lips against her ear.

Elizabeth shook her head. "I sew up holes in people, not make them."

"I'll give you a crash course."

She shook her head again. A tiny thrill of adrenaline swirled in her belly. A big believer in self-defense, she'd spent too much time in the ER to actually pull a trigger. Or so she thought. Life or death.

Despite her refusal, Sam wrapped her non-sliced hand around what was clearly a big gun. A very big, very heavy gun. Her fingers closed around the ribbed stock. It felt weird, foreign. "I'd rather you take it," she whispered back urgently. It was only as she flexed her stiff fingers that she realized just how tightly she'd been gripping his belt.

Sam positioned her fingers, his touch playing havoc with her good judgment. "Won't need it. Safety's off. Point and shoot. Fires eight hundred rounds a minute. You won't miss. When I come back I'll whistle like this." He whistled a sweet, sharp incredibly realistic bird call. Elizabeth hoped to hell no birds came to see who was calling them.

"Wait—you're leaving me?"

Screaming sounded more humane than aiming a gun and taking a life. The scream was again building in her chest. She tamped down the fear. She needed to think rationally and be alert. Being scared right now wasn't an option. She eased into a slightly more comfortable crouch by millimeters.

Now she heard them. Footsteps. Leaves rustling. Breathing. She wanted to plead with Sam to hunch down with her, to wait until whoever it was passed. But she knew he'd be proactive.

He brushed a quick kiss across her nose, light as a butterfly's wing. "Stay low." One second he was right there, the next he was gone. She knew he'd left, not because he made any noise, but because she could no longer feel his presence beside her.

"Be careful," she mouthed.

The raucous sounds of the jungle closed in on her, as did the oppressive darkness. She'd outgrown her fear of the bogeyman in her closet long before her tenth birthday, but this darkness scared the bejesus out of her. The dangers here were very real. And imminent.

Crouched uncomfortably in the thick, inky darkness Elizabeth waited, her heartbeat sounding like thunder in her ears, her jaw clenched to prevent crying out every time something crawled over her bare hands, or some creepy critter brushed her face. She tried not to imagine what that was sitting lightly on her cheek, or what the weight was on the instep of her right boot. She bit off the scream that surged up her throat as a bird shot out of a nearby shrub as if catapulted. Dragging in a shuddering breath, she held it until her heart settled down. She was dammed if she'd have a freaking heart attack because a bird flew past her.

Better than thinking about men tracking her with guns, mile-long centipedes, poisonous ants, poisonous frogs and, of course, a multitude of poisonous snakes.

The only thing she had between herself and all those dangers was Sam Pelton. The thought was so wrongly comforting.

Five men. Camo. NVGS. AK47s. Well trained. Cautious. And definitely tracking their missing doctor. There was no other reason for their presence. No nearby villages to pillage, and Sam doubted they were hunting for bushmeat. Thadiwe was too sophisticated to eat the local flora and fauna, and the compound was miles from anywhere. No. It was Beth that Thadiwe's soldiers hunted.

Damn it to hell. He'd miscalculated, and they'd discovered her absence, and the hidden Jeep, hours before Sam thought they would. Removing the KA-BAR from his tac belt with his left hand, Sam circled around, slipped in behind them. Matching his steps to the man bringing up the rear, he maneuvered up close. With no warning he brought his forearm around and beneath the guy's chin. Pulling him back and off balance, Sam struck directly up, into the man's kidneys. It was a quick, silent death, the pain so intense the man couldn't scream before he died. Sam caught the soldier as he soundlessly collapsed against him, and lowered the body quietly into the bushes.

Sam wiped the bloodied knife on the man's shirt. One down, four to go.

Killing the soldier had taken all of three seconds. Didn't bother Sam right then, but later he'd remember why he'd gotten out of combat and into the training side. But for now he had absolutely no compunction killing as many people as it took to keep Beth safe.

He took the second and third guys out the same coldly efficient way as he'd done the first. The fourth and fifth might have been slow on the uptake, but the second they realized that they were under attack they got with the program and both rushed Sam at once.

Good. No weapons fired to draw the attention of any other hunters. The first guy came at him in a flurry of well-trained arms and legs. Sam blocked the first blow with his forearm, then swiveled to kick out at number two who had come in from the side, his AK47 raised to fire. Kicking out, Sam got rid of both man and weapon. The second guy went flying, striking a tree trunk with a hollow thud that set off a flock of birds in a screeching flutter of wings, ghostly through the NVGs. A group of chimps shot out of the lower branches, screaming annoyance as they swung from branch to branch.

Bending his arm, Sam used a chopping motion from the elbow, his entire body weight behind the edge-of-the-hand blow to the first guy's throat as he came at him full tilt. His hand made a satisfying connection just below the enemy's Adam's apple. The guy gagged and dropped.

The other soldier was already up on his feet and charging back for more. With a feral smile Sam sidestepped the punch to the jaw, grabbing his opponent's wrist with one hand, and pulled him off balance. With the other hand he yanked off the guy's NVGs, then melted into the high bushes to his right. The man came blindly after him. Sam stayed dead still.

The man turned in a circle, scared now, babbling God only knew what. Sam came up on him from behind, wrapping his left arm around the guy's neck, bearing down on his throat in a Japanese stranglehold. One arm across his throat, the other on his shoulders, his palm on the back of the man's head. Pulling him backwards, Sam pressed the guy's head forward.

The guy tried to grab his balls with his free hand. The LockOut suit gave him no handhold.

Sam straightened and gripped the front and back of the guy's head, then gave a quick twist. It had been a while since he'd last heard a neck breaking at such close quarters. He hadn't missed the sound. Sam tossed him aside as he heard a loud scream of fear. The scream was cut off mid note.

Beth.

Elizabeth flung herself into Sam's arms the moment he came through the trees. It was barely light, but she could see him well enough, and God, was she happy to do so. "Oh, Jesus, Jesus," she said hoarsely into his throat, her heart pounding so hard she was sure he must hear it. "I'm sorry, Sam. This giant pig-like something came at me, and scared the living crap out of me. I promised myself I wouldn't scream like a girl and distract you no matter what, but it ran right into me before I even knew it was there… Sorry, I'm babbling."

She looked up at his face. He'd removed the night vision goggles, and they'd left a red mark across the bridge of his blade of a nose. He was several days past a shave, and the dark shadow on his jaw made him look wicked and disreputable. The sheen on the front of his black body suit Elizabeth easily identified as blood. She stepped back, her gaze tracking across his body for signs of injury.

"Are you—?" The matte black body suit hugged his muscular torso so that she could see the sharp definition of his taut pecs and cut abs, and the long length of his muscular legs, and the bulge, somehow flattened, large, and protected by something. She pictured his penis tucked neatly inside. Her body tightened and her nipples ached.

"Am I?"

Her gaze shot up to his face, and her cheeks felt warm. "Hurt. Are you hurt?"

"I teach advanced survival skills to highly trained counter terrorists operatives for a living. I'm excellent. Thanks for asking." He grinned, a flash of white teeth in his tanned face. "Did your run-in with the pig give you any nicks or cuts?"

"I scared him as much as he scared me," she muttered, searching his face. She didn't need to ask him if he'd taken care of whomever had been following them. Seeing Sam in his warrior gear, knife belted to his thigh, the big gun, his dark hair damp with sweat, his eyes glittering as if he had a fever…

Good grief, if he'd looked at like this back home, she would have jumped his bones at the first opportunity. She gave him a more assessing look. "How did they catch up with us so fast?"

"Obviously someone went to your room to check on you after I cut the generator. They'll send more soldiers when those guys don't check in." He picked up the big gun and his pack. "We need to make tracks," he said, threading his arms through the straps. "Easier now that it's getting light. Drink some water as we walk." He handed her the canteen, and Elizabeth sipped enough water to moisturize her dry mouth.

"How many men were there?"

"Only five."

Only five. Sam didn't seem to be concerned that those men might be following them, so Elizabeth presumed they were incapacitated. In this part of the world that could only mean dead.

"I counted seventeen soldiers at the compound. If they realized that I didn't take the Jeep, do you think they'll send all of them after us? Maybe we should double back and really steal a Jeep. What do you think?"

"First of all there were twenty soldiers. And no. We're not doubling back. By now Thadiwe has probably called in some of his pal Nkemidilm's people. Right now we have the advantage. Until they find those five guys back there, they won't know you aren't alone. They think they're hunting a lone woman, unprepared for this environment. That's a good thing, and to our advantage. Those guys didn't have radios or any communication devices on them. Stupid. But hey, I didn't train them. So to communicate they'd have to have gone back to base. We have a little breathing room."

He tilted her face with a finger under her chin. His hard mouth curved into a smile. "You look like hell."

"I'm perfectly aware of what I must look like," she said ruefully. While Sam's rugged face was bug free, she must look like the Creature from The Black Lagoon. She'd never been vain, but right now she was grateful she didn't have a mirror. God only knew what critters had glued themselves to the repellent on her skin.

He removed a cloth from his pack, and applied it—dry—to her cheeks. "This must itch like crazy. Close your eyes. Let me get rid of the bugs at least. Grab the DEET—it's in the left side of the belt. Yeah, open it while I get rid of your passengers."

Elizabeth stood still while Sam cleaned her face, then reapplied the chemical to deter the bugs. She wanted to kiss him, but knew they had to keep going if they wanted to get away free and clear.

The blackness of the night had lightened to a deep olive green. Now murky lime green shafts of light seeped through the dense tree canopy. It felt as though they were walking through algae-filled water. The body suit did an incredible job keeping her body temp normal, but her head was exposed to the thick steamy heat and perspiration tickled her skin and attracted insects.

The jungle was a living entity surrounding them, the smell of dead vegetation and wet earth seemed to seep into Elizabeth's pores. The noise level was higher now than it had been earlier, and she'd long since given up trying to identify everything making such a racket. Monkeys, insects, large and small animals. And her own breathing. Every time a bird called, she flinched. Not only did she hate birds, she discovered she wasn't that crazy about snakes, bugs, or mosquitoes either. Being in a rain forest wasn't exactly the best pick for a first time Grand Adventure.

An adventurer she wasn't. Just because she wanted to be fearless and daring didn't mean she was hardwired to be so. She'd leave the adventures to Kess and concentrate on her fledgling practice instead.

If she made it back to Montana alive.

Chapter Six

Elizabeth bumped into Sam's back as he came to a stop midstride. She came around to stand beside him. They'd reached the river. Thank God. The water was the color of bad pea soup. Brownish green with unidentifiable lumps of vegetation floating on the surface. The air smelled, not unpleasantly… green, and a little like overripe fruit. Small trees and thick brush crowded the sloping banks. House plants Beth grew in little pots in her condo would thrive and flourish to gigantic proportions here.

A thin, bright yellow snake S'ed on the surface of the water, dragonflies, their iridescent wings shimmering in the sunlight, swooped and dived over their reflections, and tiny emerald green butterflies swarmed en mass over the bank. A pair of inquisitive otters sat on a nearby felled tree trunk watching them.

That was the pretty part of the river.

On the bank a crocodile—at least seven feet long, lazed in the sun, and four submerged hippos, small ears twitching lay like enormous boulders several hundred yards upstream in the center of the river where the water was deep. Both species moved like greased lightening in the water.

And there were birds. Everywhere. Big and small. They swooped, they dove, they fluttered and they perched. They squawked and chirped and tweeted and generally freaked Beth out.

Here the sunlight wasn't being filtered through the trees, and buttery early morning light sparkled on the murky green surface, while the diaphanous dragonflies danced between the long reeds and grasses lining the muddy bank. If one didn't know that the jungle pressing against its serpentine shoreline was filled with birds and creepy crawlies, it would be an idyllic picture.

She stared at the pod of almost submerged hippos. One lifted its head, its ridiculous small ears pivoting as it called a guttural ba-ho-ho-ho in a low bass. Hippos were said to be the deadliest animal in Africa, but it was hard to imagine, watching them clustered together like giant rocks in the slow moving water, that they could actually run faster than a human on land. It was unlikely they'd attack without provocation, but Elizabeth moved closer to Sam and his nice big gun.

"Shit."

"What's wrong?" she asked, dry-mouthed, waving away a dragonfly as it dive bombed her hair.

"Desi isn't here with the Zodiac."

Elizabeth looked out across the murky surface.

The whole expanse of the river looked emptier and more dangerous without rescue close had hand. "Maybe he went up or down river."

"This is the extraction point. We're about fifteen minutes late—but he should be here waiting."

"Are you sure he's coming? I told you we should have gone back and stolen a Jeep."

"He must've gotten delayed. He'll be here."

"How long do you think we'll have to wait?"

Sam glanced around, clearly assessing the area. "Until he gets here."

Well, duh. "What are we supposed to do in the meantime?"

"Sun's up. The animals will be down to drink any time now. We need to get out of their way."

"Do we dodge them and say excuse me? Do we walk, or do we have to figure out how to levitate?"

"We're going to climb that tree over there and stay out of their way. It's a good lookout point, and you probably could use a rest 'round about now."

"And a shower, and a thick juicy steak."

"Sorry. No shower, no room service. How are your tree-climbing skills?"

"On a scale of one to ten, one being the least? Zero. I've never climbed a tree in my life. Not since I watched Kess being hauled away in an ambulance after falling on her head. It looked like too much trouble for that amount of pain."

"I won't let you fall, I promise. Come on, this looks like a good tree hotel."

The enormous tree was relatively easy to climb with Sam's help. The branches were as thick as her entire body, and vines made convenient toe- and handholds. She moved as fast as she could to prevent critters from taking a toe-hold on her. Sam found a fork about ten feet off the ground that hung almost directly over the water and eased the pack off his back onto one of the wide branches. Opening it he removed a circle of a similar fabric to their suits, but instead of black, this was a camouflage pattern that blended well with the surrounding vegetation.

"A Frisbee?" she teased, leaning against the trunk as she watched Sam work.

"When we play, sweetheart, it won't be with a toy." With a flick of his wrist the circle flipped and writhed into a small dome-shaped tent. "Viola! Your room is ready." Placing the small tent to rest on the V of the branches, he quickly pounded a few pegs into the branch to support the little structure, then unzipped the entrance. "Take your boots off, drink some water and try to nap."

"Where are you going to be?"

"Backtracking to be sure we won't have any surprise guests. Stay inside the tent and zip the door closed. You'll be able to see out pretty well, and it'll keep critters out. Our ride should be here shortly. Even if you see Desi and the Zodiac, stay put. I won't be long. Oh, yeah. One more thing."

Sam gave her a quick, hard kiss.

"I really enjoy your one more things," she told him when they broke apart. She wanted to keep him safely by her side. "Come back and say it again."

"I have more than one 'one more thing,' sweetheart. Climb in, I'll be back in an hour."

Sam returned two hours later. He'd managed to contact Desi on the sat phone he'd retrieved from the large pack he'd hidden the day before near their rendezvous point. The other man had been detained in a village some twenty clicks down river. "Detained" meant Desi had encountered a young woman whose father was off fighting on the border. Desi was Mallaruzi and he was, apparently, usually pretty dependable. Unless he ran across a pretty girl. Sam warned him away from any other pretty girls and set up a new extraction time for 1200 hours. He then jogged almost halfway back to the compound without seeing evidence that there were more soldiers following them.

They'd come. Eventually.

But for now there was nothing more pressing than being with Beth and convincing her that she liked being with him, too.

After checking the perimeter for any sign of man, he rapidly climbed the tree and unzipped the front flap of the small tent. Inside was dim and relatively cool. Beth was asleep, her head resting on her outstretched arm. How the hell had he managed to keep his hands off her for a year and a half? Just looking at her made his heart beat faster, and not even his intense training could control the speed of his pulse. It was like she was the one specifically made for him, and his body recognized its mate.

Sam removed his boots before he crawled in beside her. It was a tight fit, which he didn't mind at all.

He lay like she was, one arm outstretched to support his head as he faced her. Merging his fingers with hers, Sam enjoyed the simple act of holding her hand. Hers was so small, and soft, and incredibly female clasped in his large rough palm.

She was perfectly relaxed, her slender body conforming to the thick branches supporting the floor of the tent. He scanned her face, so perfect in repose and just inches from his. She was prettier when she was awake and her features animated; asleep her beauty was more subtle, but just as heart twisting. Her beauty was deceiving. She looked delicate with her pale, freckled skin and amber-colored hair. But she was as tensile as steel. Sam touched a finger to the dark sweep of her lashes, dyed, she'd told him once unselfconsciously.

He trailed his finger over her cheek, then brushed it gently over the sweet curve of her lower lip. She smiled without opening her eyes. "What's the scoop?" she asked, her voice thick with sleep.

"Desi's been held up. He'll be here in a few hours."

She opened slumberous sherry-colored eyes. "What will we do with ourselves for two hours?"

"More like three or four."

"That long? Just the two of us in this little tent?" She brushed his hair off his forehead, then stroked his forehead with the pads of her fingers. Her touch traveled like wild fire through Sam's blood. She shifted so that her hips aligned with his. Nothing between them but two thin layers of LockOut and an erection that had started eighteen months ago.

"I hate being bored, don't you?" she whispered, tracing the creases beside his eyes, then the shape of his nose, then trailed down to Braille his mouth, her touch soft as air.

Sam tugged at the zipper at the base of her throat and started easing it down inch by slow inch. Her pupils dilated. "Intolerable," he told her, his voice thick.

"Any cards in that pack of yours?" she asked, her hand tangling with his as she started pulling the zipper down on his suit. The backs of their hands brushed as their movements mirrored one another. Each zipper parted, one tooth at a time.

"Nope." He bent his head the few inches separating them and skimmed his mouth over hers. Her lips parted and she welcomed him inside. She tasted… like heaven. Everything Sam had ever wanted was right here in his arms.

Beth touched his lower lip with the damp tip of her tongue making Sam's breath snag in his chest. He pressed his advantage and licked back, tasting the sweetness of her mouth as if he'd never kissed her before. After waiting so long for this, he didn't want to rush it. Tamping down the primitive urge to take her without fanfare, he kissed her tenderly, with all the pent-up longing he'd been suppressing for a year and a half.

He kissed her lingeringly, succulently, enjoying the hell out of the tastes and textures of her mouth and the increasingly urgent sound of her breathing. Beth reciprocated, her cool fingers stroking his face, ratcheting up his need for her even more.

She broke away, panting slightly, a flush riding her cheek bones. "I suppose teaching me to fire one of your guns will draw a crowd?"

"The four- and two-legged variety." He used his thumb and pinky to spread the two halves of the deep V apart to expose the velvety roundness of her breasts. Small and plump and absolutely perfect. Her nipples were the same pale coral as her lips, and already hard and responsive, just waiting for him to taste them.

She spread her fingers on his chest, kneading the muscles, then slid her hand across his pecs to his nipple. "Swimming is probably out of the question?" she asked as she rubbed a thumb over the sensitive peaks.

He pinched her nipple, making her moan low in her throat, then she reciprocated, doing the same to him. Sam grit his teeth at the sweet sensation and used his wrist to push her zipper down another few inches. "Leeches."

"Nasty." Above their heads her fingers tightened in his, as her free hand wondered randomly over his chest, combing through his chest hair, making him crazy. She licked the seam of his lips, then whispered in a sultry voice, "Wanna play doctor?"

Chapter Seven

"God yes." His voice was husky, his eyes dark with desire. Elizabeth thought his hand shook a little as he gently touched her cheek. "You be the patient first. I've waited too damn long to see you naked. And if you put your hands on me now I'll go off like a rocket."

"How long?"

"Eight inches?"

Elizabeth laughed. "How long have you wanted to see me naked?"

"Eighteen months, six days, and nineteen hours."

"That's almost as long as we've known one another."

"It's exactly as long as we've known one another."

Her nipples pebbled and ached. She wanted him to touch her so badly. She'd imagined his touch on her breasts, dreamed erotic dreams where Sam kissed her body everywhere. She wanted that. She wanted him. "Why didn't you say anything?" she asked, pressing her hand over his where it curved around her breast to show him how she wanted him to touch her. He didn't need instruction. The pressure, the pull and caress, were perfect. He kneaded and stroked until her breath caught.

"You were married." He bent his head to take one eager nipple in his mouth, then sucked hard enough to make her moan. She speared her fingers into his hair to hold his head there.

"Then," he said huskily, trailing his tongue across the upper curve of her left breast. "You were talking divorce." His teeth surrounded the nipple, teasing and tasting until Elizabeth's hips came up off the floor. It was hard to draw in a breath.

"Then you got the divorce." Sam pulled the zipper down on her suit as far it would go, then skimmed his flat hand down her belly. His fingers slid beneath her skimpy blue cotton panties to touch her. "Then." His voice was thick as she shifted to allow him access to her wet heat. He slipped two fingers inside her, and Elizabeth's breath snagged. "Because I'm such a far-thinking guy, I waited a full, interminable, year to be sure I wasn't going to be your transitional lover."

She reached down and urged him to exert pressure where she needed it. "Rob and I had a very amicable divorce." It was hard to think, let alone try to talk. "I—I—Deeper. Yes, like that… Ahhh—I didn't need a t-transitional guy. But oh, God, Sam I wanted you too. From the moment I saw you." He withdrew his hand, and for a moment Elizabeth lay there stunned. "Don't stop!"

"Gotta get naked. Now." He finished unzipping, then pulled the tight-fitting fabric off his shoulders and down his body.

After a shaky start, Elizabeth struggled out of hers too. And the only way she managed that was taking her eyes off Sam's cut abs and the swirls of crisp dark hair on his tanned chest. She wanted to lick him all over.

"I must admit," she said, sitting up to yank down the legs—pretending that they were having a normal conversation only so that they didn't jump each other's bones instantly—"that—" God, they were so ready for each other that she wondered if they might jettison off the branches supporting the tent. She was in such a hurry to get naked, her hands shook.

"When my husband told me he'd met someone else I was hurt." She kicked the entire black suit off and turned to see him watching her, his dark eyes gleaming in the false dusk inside the tent. Elizabeth placed both hands on his chest and pushed him onto his back. She followed him down. Using him like a very hard, not particularly comfortable, mattress. It was sheer bliss feeling his skin against hers.

"Not a gaping wound hurt," she told him, nibbling a path from his throat to his chin, while his large hands skimmed down her back. "Because," she licked the curve of his lower lip, "we didn't have that kind of passion. But hurt that after I'd worked so hard to make our marriage work, he'd gone off and found someone else." She opened her mouth over his and found his tongue. She felt as though sparklers fired off in her blood.

While she kissed her way to his ear, he scooped her hair off her neck and started tasting the tendons there, making her shudder. "Then you walked into the clinic that day in the middle of all my personal drama and I forgot everything."

Elizabeth's mind went blank as his tongue traced an erotic path up the side of her throat and then swirled inside her ear.

"A-All that testosterone, a black eye, your arm bleeding. And even though I thought you'd been in some skanky bar fight." She smiled at his growl of mock outrage. "I thought you were the hottest, sexiest man I'd ever seen."

"Yeah?" he whispered directly into her ear.

She shuddered. "Oh, yeah." It had been lust at first sight. "I thought you weren't interested." Struggling to make sense of her failing marriage, building a new practice, and paying off monumental med school loans, Elizabeth had been broadsided by her visceral and blatantly sexual attraction to a stranger when her life was already in an upheaval. She'd put Sam away to think about late at night. And think about him she had. With the way her life was going at the time, she was almost relieved that he hadn't felt the same immediate attraction that she had. If both them felt the same way, she imagined that it would have been impossible not to act on it. By his apparent disinterest, Elizabeth had managed to stay true to her marriage vows, however tenuous they'd been.

Her brain was fogging. Sam flipped her over. It wasn't easy, the tent was barely big enough for the two of them. He leaned over her, his fingers tangled in her hair, his gaze hot, his thumb making lazy circles at her temple. "That kiss I planted on you six months ago didn't give you a head's up?"

"It gave me pheromones and blood pressure up," she assured him, tracing the curve of his smile. Even though her body pulsed and throbbed, and she was wet for him, their lazy, we-have-all-the-time-in-the-world conversation was drawing out the finish unbearably. "But that was the only indication that you even knew I existed."

His fingers skimmed up to cup her breast where it plumped against his chest. Elizabeth shifted to grant him access to her nipple. He squeezed it this side of exquisite pain, then stroked his thumb over the erect peak. The sensation shot directly to every nerve center in her body.

"You didn't notice I was practically stalking you?" He demanded, kneeing her thighs apart.

"I did notice that you were pretty much everywhere I was, yes. But you never came over and talked to me. Never asked me out. You kissed me once and then I didn't hear from you again. You disappeared for a mon—"

He slipped inside her. Hot and hard. "Ah. You noticed."

"Wait. Don't move," she begged, the sensation too strong, too sweet. She wanted him so much her heart ached with the need. Here he was, this man that had set her pulses racing for what seemed like forever. Here he was, Sam Pelton, with his hips spreading her thighs wide and his warrior eyes gleaming as he looked down into hers. YesYesYES!

"Of course I noticed." She tried to speak around a pant as she started to rock her hips against his. "One minute every where I looked there—Ah—There you were, then you kissed me like there was no tomorrow and disappeared for a month. It was enough to… give… a girl a freaking… complex."

His penis flexed inside her, and Elizabeth moaned, then bit him on the shoulder. The pleasure he was giving her was indescribably, both sharp and sweet. Her body tightened unbearably around him as he threw back his head, the tendons in his neck showing in sharp relief.

"I was out of the country on an—op." Sam pumped his hips and Elizabeth made a soft appreciative sound in the back of her throat, stroking her hand down his back, then digging her nails into his hard butt cheek as he hit his stride. "And I was waiting—I'm trying to draw this out, sweetheart. But I'm going to go off like Vesuvius in about a second if you don't stop moving under me like that. Lie real still—I was waiting the year out."

She couldn't keep still, everything they did pushed her higher and higher, until Elizabeth didn't know where she stopped and Sam began. Her internal muscles contracted around his penis buried deep inside her. His hands were gentle as he stroked her back and her behind in strokes that he maybe thought were soothing, but were instead making her crazy with lust, love, and need all jumbled together.

Sam's body was a furnace above hers, sweat gluing their skin together as Sam skimmed his hand down her side, then touched her intimately where they were joined. She shifted slightly to give him better access, and thought, We fit together perfectly, and said out loud, "Yes, God yes, I love when you touch me there. Just like that. Just. Like. That." And—I love you.

Elizabeth loved the taste of his skin, loved the scrape of his jaw against her breast, loved the smell of him. Loved the satiny feel of his tanned skin and crisp hair beneath her marauding fingers.

"I figured after that—Hmm." She bit his earlobe, and he groaned his pleasure, so she did it again. She felt his desire, and it doubled her own. "I figured that you weren't following me at all. It was a string of co-coincidences. You took my dormant libido from stalled to overdrive, then—poof. You were gone. When you came back it was if that kiss had never happened. I knew you weren't shy, so I was convinced you just weren't that into me."

"Make no mistake," he said, his voice raw with emotion as his thrusts became more aggressive, as if he couldn't wait another second.

To hell trying to postpone this. Elizabeth was just as eager. She needed it now. "Do it hard? she told him, wrapping her legs around his narrow hips and locking her ankles in the small of his back. She wanted to devour him, and set her open mouth on the thundering pulse on his throat.

"I was into you. In every way a man can be into a woman I was in… to you." He plunged deep, sending them both over the edge in a shower of sensation that lasted a long, long time.

Sam kissed her shoulder. "Our ride's here."

"Hmmm." She stretched, then wrapped her arms around his neck. "I thought we had a late checkout." She took a little nip on his lower lip. "How'd you manage to get dressed without waking me up?"

"Special ops training. Up and at 'em, sweetheart. We have a reservation at another hotel. One with a soft bed, and no roommates."

"Woohoo."

Her smile zinged through Sam's blood stream like liquid sunshine. Wanting to make love to her again wasn't an option, unfortunately. He was looking forward to making love to her for hours on end with no interruption, and without being distracted listening for the bad guys.

Their time would come to laze in bed all day. This wasn't that day.

Looked like they were going to get out of here in one piece. If Thadiwe's men weren't smarter than the average chimp and had managed to elude him. If they got down river unscathed. If the hidden chopper hadn't been discovered and sold for parts. None of those things would have fazed Sam before. Having Beth with him changed everything.

"Here." He handed her the DEET. "The mosquitoes are having a freaking convention out there."

He slid toward the tent opening and yanked down the zipper. "I'll wait outside to give you room."

"Stay. I love being in tight quarters with you."

Living in a one-man tent with Beth sounded damn good to him too, but he shook his head. "You'd never get dressed." He had to kiss her one more time. Supposed to be quick, but she threaded her fingers through his hair, and held him for a kiss that turned him inside out. He'd never been much of a kisser, but Beth made him a convert. Reluctantly he brought the kiss to an end. "Don't take long," he told her, loving the way her eyes lost focus when he kissed her. "We have to make tracks." He crawled out onto the limb to give her room to dress, but left the flap up so he could watch her.

She shot him a sassy smile, and drew the LockOut over her body like a seasoned stripper.

He dragged his attention away from her rosy breasts and scanned the jungle around them. Thadiwe's men would be getting close. Sam had gone out forty minutes ago to reconnoiter while Beth slept. Just because he hadn't encountered any more soldiers didn't mean they weren't out there. Thadiwe's minions had plenty of time to realize that five of their men hadn't returned. Sam had a persistent itch on the back of his neck. He never ignored his intuition. It was gained by experience.

"Can we frame the tent when we get back home?" Beth asked, coming through the opening feet first. She looked sensational in the tight black LockOut, her bright hair disheveled around her shoulders, her pretty eyes alert as she finished pulling the zipper up to her throat. Sam ran his gaze unobtrusively over the cut on her cheek and the two on her throat. No sign of infection. Then slid his hand under her hair and pulled her to him for a quick, hungry kiss.

"Nah." He smiled into her eyes. "We'll pitch it in the backyard and use it for our annual family vacation." He waited for a reaction, but didn't get one. His gut clenched before he reminded himself that Elizabeth was good at masking her thoughts. He wasn't even sure she'd heard him, as a parrot, blue and yellow wings spread—screeched overhead. She flinched, and he wondered what it would take to get her over her fear of birds. One thing for sure, he didn't have time for it now.

He'd already pulled out the support pegs on the tent, and it was a simple matter to collapse the fabric and stuff it back in the bag. He held up her favorite silk blouse, the pink liberally spattered with dried brown blood. "I needed to bring you clothing so they'd think you'd worn it out of there." He held the shirt up in a wad. "Want to try and save this?"

Beth shuddered. "No thank you. I might never wear pink silk again."

"I'll bury it, and the rest of your clothes, then. Ready?"

"As I'll ever be." She scooted on her butt as far as the trunk, then stood to climb down to the ground. It was hotter than hell. Hot and steamy. Her cheeks were a delicate rose, and Sam thought that pink wasn't so bad.

She smiled. "I'll be fine not seeing the color green for a while. But I'll miss the tent."

Chapter Eight

"Mboté! Mboté! Boss-man," Desi called with a shit-eating grin as he paddled a decrepit-looking pirogue up to shore. He looked ridiculously like a young Denzel Washington, and wore ragged cut-off cargo pants, and a royal blue vest with red and yellow house cats printed on it. Around his cleanshaven head he'd jauntily tied a gray and green striped necktie. The entire ensemble would make a damn fine target for anyone on shore. As if he hadn't a care in the world, Desi jumped out of the boat in thigh-deep water and dragged it closer to shore.

"What happened to the Zodiac?" Sam asked. He suspected he knew. Desi had sold it, and everything in it, to the rebels for a pretty penny. He'd then probably spent the "mbongo" he'd gotten on his new lady friend. "I need…" Desi looked pitiful and mimed eating. "Koliya. Yes?"

The guy was a strapping thirty year old in no danger of starving. "Hell, no. The Zodiac wasn't yours to sell." Desi gave him a blank look. "Never mind." There was no point arguing. "Let's go."

Sam tossed both packs into the middle of the boat.

"Ever paddled a canoe?" he turned to asked Beth. "Desi and I will be rowing, but it wouldn't hurt for you to know how. Just in case."

Just in case? Elizabeth resisted turning her head to scan the jungle surrounding them for snipers. "I've done the rowing machine at the gym, so I can probably handle it."

She demonstrated her technique for Sam, practicing in the air while he adjusted her left-hand grip just a fraction.

"Try that again—Keep the oar as vertical as possible. Good. Okay, let's do it." She started to cross to the water, but Sam put his hand on her arm. "No point in us both getting our feet wet. Here, I'll carry you." She expected a fireman's lift, but Sam swung her up in his arms.

It was a silly romantic gesture, one she loved. God help her, Elizabeth thought, shocked by the realization. She loved him. He'd proven that he wanted her. But that was lust. Did the concept of love even cross the mind of a man like Sam? She seriously doubted it. He wasn't hardwired that way. Yet he'd mentioned a shared backyard. She wondered if that was just a throw away remark or if he actually meant they had a future together. "You Tarzan," she joked, looping her arms around his neck.

He lowered her into the small canoe while Desi held it steady. "Hang on to me as you put one foot in… now crouch down, grab the gunwale and transfer your weight before putting the other foot in."

She did as he instructed, without mishap, thank God. The sun, straight up and broiling hot, beat down on her unprotected head. Without a word, Sam leaned over and withdrew a black ball cap from one of his packs and placed it on her head.

The boat barely seemed big enough to hold three adults and Sam's heavy packs.

Sam flung a leg into the boat and shot her a smile as he carefully lowered himself behind her. "We're going to get out of here in one piece. I promise."

First the hat, now he knew how scared she was. "Are you a mind reader?" she asked over her shoulder as she adjusted the cap to better shield her eyes.

"I'm a student of Doctor Elizabeth Bennett Goodall. Okay, Desi. Let's get the party started." The two men started paddling in slow easy strokes that took them out to the middle of the river.

Her heart did a little zig-zag at Sam's response. "What's my favorite color?"

"Purple."

"What's your favorite food?"

"Same as yours. Italian."

"Favorite ice cream?"

"Vanilla. Yours is Rocky Road. Keep to the middle of the river, Desi. Better chance of being seen, but less chance of encountering most of the wild life. Watch out for hippos." Elizabeth presumed he was talking to her and not their guide. "They're vicious and fast. And don't put your hands anywhere near the water. Snakes and crocs."

"I didn't even want to put my hands in the Thames when Kess and I went on that river cruise last year. Believe me, I'll keep my hands to myself. This water looks alive with every known parasite and creepy-crawly known to man." She wasn't sure which was scarier, the critters she could see or those she couldn't.

"Can you swim?"

"I'm not getting in the water."

"Brace your feet on the sides and bring your paddles in and lock them. There's white water ahead."

"White water?"

"Rapids."

"That was rhetori—" Her words cut off with a scream as the small, narrow pirogue slewed sideways in a froth of white water. She grabbed the gunwale with both hands and braced her feet as best she could. Hadn't she been the one craving adventure? The adrenaline spike was pure fear.

"Dig deep and hold on!" Sam yelled over the scaling thunder of the water. The boat pitched sideways, going down at a steep angle. "Forward paddle—hard!"

The men's oars weren't in the water because they were riding on air. It was electrifying. Terrifying, but heart thumping exhilarating. Elizabeth hung on for dear life, and lifted her face to the diamonds of spray jettisoning around her. If she was going to die, she was going down with a fight.

The boat came down with a bone jarring thump. Trees and bushes went by in a blur of greens and browns as they shot downstream, slewing sideways, bumping and jostling as the unruly water tossed them from level to level in untidy increments. Down the rapids almost on their nose, then jolting them backwards until she was practically in Sam's lap.

"Hang on. There's more," he shouted.

Elizabeth noticed. There was more white water all right. Lots more. The water frothed high over the sides of the pirogue, drenching them all. Maybe instead of being exhilarated she should be praying. She tried it, but her breath caught as they glanced off a submerged rock and literally went flying. Down, down, down, over the rocks and debris that swirled and tumbled down a series of cataracts.

"Hold on! Hold on!"

Thump, slam. Into a flume where the water raced around a sharp bend, then dropped seven or eight feet over a ledge. Elizabeth's breath caught, and her heart stayed in her throat as the boat tipped and swayed with the force of the thrashing, churning water tossing them around like a child's toy.

She was too scared to close her eyes, and too terrified not to. This made the rollercoaster rides she'd taken as a kid pale into insignificance.

They landed with a bone-jarring skid, then slid backwards over a short drop.

"Catch your breath," Sam told her when they seemed to have dropped into a pool of calm below the rapids. The little boat bobbed a bit, then glided through the water. "You've got about ten minutes before we hit the next set." He placed his hand on her shoulder. "Enough adventure for you, sweetheart?"

Elizabeth turned her head to smile at him through the water dripping from her hat brim and off her lashes. "It's freaking terrifying. But I'll remember this for the rest of my life. How did you make it upstream?"

"Pottage—Ah, shit. Desi, haul ass. Now! Go. Go. Go!"

Elisabeth's heart leapt into her throat again. Now what? She spun around to face front. "What—Oh, my God."

Thadiwe's soldiers, guns pointing right at them, lined the banks. The three of them in the boat were sitting ducks.

Chapter Nine

Kneeling, Sam paddled as fast as he could. In the front of the pirogue, Desi's hands and arms glistening, a chocolate-colored blur as he dug his oars into the water, pulling the boat with him. Thadiwe's men were firing round after round. Thousands of birds, in hundred of species, were catapulted out of the trees by the noise. Squawking and crying out, they flew in a tidal wave of multicolored beating wings up into the sun baked air.

Sam felt a burn zing across his upper arm. It didn't slice through the LockOut, but he felt the sting. Ignore it. Pull. Pull. Pull. "Beth. Get down. Lower, damn it." Bullets crisscrossed overhead, cutting through the water, or ricocheting off nearby rocks. Beth's cap went spinning over the side, and Sam's heart fucking stopped in his chest. "Beth?"

She was bent over, her head on her knees. "I'm okay. I'm okay," she shouted, her voice muffled.

Thadiwe's men had chosen well. The river not only curved blindly right after the rapids, it also narrowed to just a few hundred feet wide. It would then be impossible to miss the boat or its occupants. To return fire, Sam would have to stop rowing. Right now he wasn't stopping for anything, or anyone. Speed was going to save their asses. Speed. And luck.

The soldiers were running downstream, trying to keep parallel. Fortunately the bank was littered with thick vegetation and it wasn't a smooth run. But it was damn well impossible to dodge that many bullets.

The pirogue swept under a low-hanging branch where a leopard was sunning itself, its amber spotted body sleek and lethally beautiful. The cat raised its magnificent head, and its muscles flexed beneath its glossy fur as the boat flew beneath the branch. "Stay where you are, Spot," Sam warned. That's all they needed: a pissed-off cat in the boat with them.

"Take it, Desi," Sam yelled, waiting for Desi to adjust his strokes to make allowances for Sam taking his hands off the oars. The second Desi was rowing on his own, Sam pulled out the MP5 and returned a blast of fire. Two men went down, splashing into the water. Eight hundred rounds a minutes had a lot of stopping power.

He chambered another 9x19 mm Parabellum ammunition cartridge. Thirty rounds left a lot of holes. He was counting on it. The roller-delayed blowback mechanism of the weapon fired from a closed-bolt position. When the trigger was pulled, the bolt was already locked forward against the cartridge, which reduced the amount of mechanical movement, improving accuracy. And Sam needed every advantage he could get.

He got another man midair, as the guy tried to vault over a log. Two more who'd chosen wading in the thigh-deep water lapping the shore rather than the obstacle race that was the bank. Sam got them both in one sweep.

He saw the alternate view of the leopard's tail or head or streamlined body as it ran behind the soldiers, stealthy and well hidden in the brush. It was keeping well back, but hauling ass, ready to pounce should a man fall behind.

Sam knew they had maybe a minute or three before the next set of rapids. Not as steep as the first, but navigation would require both his strength and concentration. The river narrowed substantially right there, and the drop was perhaps twelve feet in a hundred yard stretch. There wasn't a chance in hell the soldiers would miss them at that range. Sam's heart raced with anticipation as bullets strafed the water beside the boat. Several hit above water, striking the pirogue but missing them by fractions of an inch.

"What can I do?" Beth shouted, still doubled over.

"Nothing!" Jesus. She was enough of a target as it was. He didn't want her sitting up to take stock of the situation. "Stay down!" He returned fire. Got another raze on his shoulder, hurt like hell, but again, didn't cut through the LockOut. The bullet hit the inside of the boat, inches from Beth's back, making Sam's heart leap into his throat and lodge there.

A small chunk of wood flew off, hitting him just above his eye. Blood trickled down his face, blinding him to the left. Shit. He wiped his face on his shoulder, then fired into a group of four men clustered on a jut of land just ahead. The soldiers went down like bowling pins.

A four-course meal for the giant croc that had slipped into the water a few feet away on their arrival and now turned back in a lash of tail and jaws to collect.

Sam saw Thadiwe immediately. The tango towered over his soldiers by a good eight inches and stood, legs spread, arms akimbo, as his men aimed their weapons at the approaching boat.

Sam shifted the submachine gun, centering the sight of the between Thadiwe's close-set eyes. "Here's that facial reconstruction you wanted so badly, asshole."

Thadiwe's head exploded like a watermelon.

Excellent. Saved Sam a return trip.

The soldiers leaped into action as another croc whipped its head around as the man's body crashed into the tall reeds, half in, half out of the muddy water. The white spume flung up by the croc's frenzy turned crimson as he dragged the tango deeper into the water.

The soldiers tried to make up for their inattention by firing off a barrage of bullets willy-nilly. Their enthusiasm was admirable, but their aim sucked, even at this close range. Most of the bullets missed their target by several feet. Sam happened to glance in Desi's direction as a bullet sliced through the man's upper thigh. The injury was deep, and bled. A lot. The other man faltered for a moment, then attacked the water with his oars like a man possessed as the soldiers gauged the target better and started narrowing the gap between hits and misses.

Elizabeth smelled the familiar metalic scent of blood over the fruity/muddy smell of the river. Sam. She lifted her head just enough to see that it was Desi who'd taken a hit. He was rowing like a madman. The oars sliced through the water, sending up sprays and droplets that sparkled in the sunlight. On either side of the river, men in uniform were running as they fired their weapons. The noise was horrendous. The soldiers shouting, animals screaming, the thrash of the narrow boat moving rapidly through the choppy water. And birds. Flying about wildly, their cries adding to the cacophony.

None of that mattered to Beth right then. Desi's wound was life threatening. He was losing too much blood, way too fast. She grabbed the smallest of Sam's packs which rested between her feet.

"Stay down, for God's sake."

"Desi's been hit. What do you have in here that I can use—Ah. Thank God." Sam's kit contained a new device she'd only read about. A "Wound Bullet." An ingenious closure device.

Hauling the pack with her, Elizabeth scooted on her butt toward Desi. The boat rocked, and all of them yelled out at the same time. She felt for the distal pulse at Desi's ankle. Weak. But he reacted at her touch, which was good. His skin was warm. Also good.

While she knew it must hurt like blue blazes, it was an uncomplicated wound. No major arterial or bone damage. But his leg looked like minced meat. She'd never used a Wound Bullet, but she'd read the articles in JAMA.

"Beth, get your ass back here and stay down."

"In a minute." She wasn't about to take cover while Desi was losing blood just two feet away from her.

"Now, God damn it!"

Staying as low as she could, Elizabeth quickly swabbed the wound as she tried to remember everything she'd read about the mechanism she was about to use. The closure device consisted of a metal shaft within a cylinder through which standard sutures were threaded. "Okay. Let's see how this thing works."

She understood the basic principle. Brilliant, really. By turning the internal shaft with the use of a simple tool, Elizabeth inserted it into the wound and applied tension to the surrounding tissue. She maintained the pressure by periodically tightening the sutures. Because the tension was evenly distributed, approximation smoothly followed the natural contour of Desi's leg. The gaping, bloody wound slowly closed. Wow. Sam had some very cool toys. Blocking out the noise, she pretended that bullets weren't flying around them. Finding a pressure dressing, she covered the incision as best she could; his leg was wet, and she had nothing to dry it with.

"He'll live," Sam yelled, sounding seriously pissed. "Get your head down. Now."

Okay. Okay. She got her head down.

"Rapids coming up," he said almost redundantly since the little boat was slewing and bouncing and boomeranging off rocks and the water was frothing, splashing around them. "Hold on," he added also unnecessarily as Elizabeth rose independently of the boat, then landed on her butt with a thunk that jarred her teeth.

Desi was bleeding through the bandage, but she couldn't do anything about it. All she could do was hold on. And pray.

She unsnapped the oars beside her and dug them into the water. Behind her Sam cursed.

Between the three of them they managed to run the rapids without tipping the pirogue. And without being killed. By some freaking miracle, they outraced the enemy and ended up in calm water with not a soldier in sight.

All in all a damn good day as far as Sam was concerned. They dropped Desi off at the small rural hospital near his village, then borrowed his brother's, brother-in-law's, sister's, aunt's truck to get them to where Sam had left the helicopter in a small clearing just outside the village.

"You can fly this thing?" Beth asked, limping slightly as she crossed the soggy grass to a group of men sitting in threadbare lawn chairs nearby. The five men rose as they approached. Desi had assured him that his uncles would protect the chopper with their lives. They didn't look as though they'd had to forfeit any body parts as they greeted Sam and Beth with wide grins and handshakes all around.

Sam had retrieved his wallet from the pack, and now peeled off the local currency in payment. "Mbongo, thank you for protecting my chopper." He offered the money, which they accepted with bows and great ceremony. Although he knew they didn't understand his thanks, they got the gist. Money in hand, they traipsed across the weedy field to drive the truck back to the village.

"Is everything where it's supposed to be?" Beth asked, eyeing the Blackhawk sitting incongruously in the middle of a field being surveyed by five ripped and torn pieces of lawn furniture, a rainstorm of cigarette butts on the dry dirt surrounding them.

"Looks good," he told her, as he did a visual scan. The rotors were intact, and the body looked untouched. "Don't worry. I'll check to be sure." He took her hand as they got closer. The black paint gleamed dully in the late afternoon sun. "How're your legs?"

"Muscle cramps. I'm good." Yeah. She was good. And exhausted. And so fucking brave that Sam wanted to throw the little tent to the ground and crawl inside with Beth right there and then. Not for sex, although God only knew he wanted that too. But just to keep her next to his heart. The image of them lying together, in a cool dim room, held enormous appeal.

They'd have that.

And everything else.

"Yeah, I can fly this thing. Here." He opened the door. "Hop in while I do the preflight check."

He lifted her up, his hands lingering on her narrow waist for a second before he deposited her in the leather seat.

Fifteen minutes later they were airborne. And an hour later they were in the Bombardier Challenger being flown back to Montana.

The company jet was sleek and came fully equipped. As soon as the pilot reached cruising altitude, Sam released their seatbelts and took Beth to the aft cabin where there was not only a luxurious bathroom, but also a bed.

Sam turned her into his arms the second he'd kicked the door shut. "There's a bed back here." His voice was thick as he pinned her to the wall and yanked down the fasteners to get her out of the LockOut. "We're not going to make it that far." Her beautiful breasts and the slope of her belly were exposed as he bit lightly on the tendons on her neck, enjoying the way her body shuddered in response and her arms came up around his neck, her fingers fisting in his hair.

Her skin was cool and soft, so soft. Sam multi-tasked as he backed her into the bathroom, stripped her out of the suit, and kissed her, all without missing a beat. "I wish I were an octopus," he murmured against her mouth, freeing a hand to reach in to turn on the shower. "Then I could touch you everywhere I want, all at the same time."

Beth's eyes were filled with laughter as she helped him strip off his own suit, made complicated because he was so erect the skin tight suit had to be peeled away carefully. "It's a loooong flight." She gave him a glittery-eyed inspection as he kicked the suit off each foot and stepped free. "You look like a—"

"Guy with a hardon?" Sam hoped to God his reaction to her would simmer down just a little in a few years. It was damned uncomfortable, not to mention embarrassing having this kind of erection anytime he was within five feet of her. Especially in public. He swallowed a laugh. Christ. This was never going to end. He'd be ninety and she'd walk into the room, and he wouldn't need a walker.

"Oh, yeah." She placed both hands on his chest, and pushed him ahead of her into the shower stall, which was already filled with steam.

Her fair skin looked incredible against the glossy black tile—not that Sam was taking time to admire the scenery. His mouth went dry as lust surged and intensified to the brink of pain. He backed her against the wall, then lifted her legs around his hips as the hot spray pounded his back. Arms wrapped around his neck, Beth gave a helpful little hop, then tightened her ankles in the small of his back.

He shuddered as he entered her moist heat. They both groaned at the exquisite sensation.

"Oh, God, Sam. This feels—Feels—" Unbearable. Wonderful. Intense. His body was hot against hers, the hair on his chest abraded her breasts deliciously. Elizabeth captured his mouth in a hungry kiss, her own tongue eager and demanding, her hips moving frantically against his. She loved the taste of him, the smell of his skin. She loved the way his body thrust into hers over and over again, so that she didn't know where her body started and his began. "Harder. Harder. Harder," she urged, her back slamming against the cold tile as he surged into her with a power and heat that made her body shake and shudder.

He devoured her mouth.

The kiss went on and on. Hot and wet. Tongues, slick and in constant motion, slid and slithered in a motion mimicking penetration. Her breath hitched and caught. She made a sound in the back of her throat and shuddered with the beginning of a hard fast climax.

"Not yet," Sam muttered thickly, withdrawing a little and dragging in a harsh ragged breath, hard fingers gripping her ass cheeks. "Not." He rammed home again, biting down gently on her earlobe.

Elizabeth's back arched as her body tightened unbearably. "Yet." He pulled out, slick and hard. Hot and greedy.

He brought her to the very edge. Again and again. Prolonging the climax in a carefully choreographed dance that had her clawing his back as violent ripples wracked her body making her pant and sweat and moan his name.

"Nownownow," she chanted, tightening her arms and legs around him as he pounded into her, the sweet torture almost unbearable.

In answer, Sam crushed his mouth back down on hers as he thrust inside her again and again. Strong and relentless, he controlled the speed and intensity of his thrusts as if he could read her body's every action and reaction.

Harder and harder. Closer and closer together, until she couldn't tell where he began and she ended.

Elizabeth opened her eyes, and Sam's were there, also open, waiting for her, consuming her with the heat of his gaze. She let her lashes fall, scared he'd see too much. I love you. I loveyou, Iloveyou. Blood thundered in her ears, roaring through her veins in a sweet blaze that left her shaking and needy. She held him with every well-toned muscle, inside and out, as he plunged into her like a hard-driven weapon. Hunger was its own reward and carried its own demand.

Elizabeth buried her face against Sam's shoulder, but that didn't muffle her scream as they climaxed together hard and fast.

"I'm a noodle," she gasped, her legs refusing to unclasp.

"Since we're here, might as well make use of the rest of the water." Which was now decidedly cool. It felt good on her burning skin. Sam reached for the liquid soap in a container on the wall, and started washing her, starting with her hair.

Elizabeth leaned her head against the tiled wall, eyes closed as he used his large hand to wash her face and throat, then trailed his fingers over her soapy breasts until she muttered, "No fair," and slid her legs from around his hips so she could stand. Her legs felt even more noodlely than before.

She pushed the button on the container and got a handful of scentless soap in her palm. "You are a dirty, dirty, boy."

"Man."

Her hands slicked down his sides, then honed in on his erection. Cupping his length, she smiled as her soapy fingers tightened around him. "All man, all the time," she agreed. "This is going to take me some time, lean back and close your eyes. I'll let you know when I'm done."

Sam's chuckled turned into a groan as Elizabeth skimmed her lips from his chest down to his rock hard belly as her slick fingers went to work. "Just so you know," she said, when her mouth reached the nest of crisp dark hair at his groin. "This is uncharted territory for me, let me know if I don't do it right."

In answer Sam tangled his fingers in her wet hair. "You're doing it—Jesus, Beth!" he said as she tentatively took him into her mouth and used her tongue to make his entire body jerk satisfactorily. "Per-fec-tly."

Just before he came, Sam pulled her up, and kissed her.

"Didn't you want to—"

"Plenty of time," he assured her, grabbing another handful of soap. He skimmed his large hand down over her belly, then slid his fingers deep inside her, bringing her to a surprise, and immediate, climax before she knew it.

"Holy Mother of God. We're going to kill each other." She gasped as he withdrew his fingers and let her body sag against his as she fought to regain her breath and her equilibrium. "Give me a sec to get my breath, and then let's get out of here. I want to make love with you in that bed I didn't see in there."

They took turns washing each other, then made love again slowly, the cold water pounding on Sam's back spraying her and making her shiver deliciously.

After the longest shower in history, where the water ran cold as they ran hot, he carried her to the bed where Sam turned the tables on her as he spread her thighs and feasted on her until she cried out mindlessly and begged for mercy. Thankfully he knew when to not take no for an answer, and drove her over the edge of an unknown precipice until her body was so attuned to his that she couldn't imagine being anywhere than right here, with his mouth between her legs, and the hum of the plane's engines throbbing through her body like an extra pulse.

Exhausted as they were, they made love again slowly. Then again, more quickly. Finally, too tired to move, they slept, curved around each other as the plane chased the sun.

The plane landed at an airfield Elizabeth didn't recognize, although she knew where they were. Just outside Brandon. Her stomach was doing flip-flops. This was it. Elizabeth undid her seatbelt as the small plane taxied down the runway and into an enormous hangar. "Now what?" She was talking about more than just the next few moments.

The door to the hangar closed behind the plane, and they were plunged into semidarkness just before the lights in the cabin came to life.

Sam's expression was unreadable. Back in Montana for five seconds and he was already the same old inscrutable Sam Pelton. "I'm going home," he told her, shouldering his packs and starting off down the aisle.

"Oh." Her stomach hurt, but she didn't complain as she rose to follow him. She'd expected it really. Hoped that they might have a future together, but known that was highly unlikely. Known all along that she'd only had him temporarily. The knowledge didn't lessen the ache of loss in her chest. It didn't make the prickle in her eyes go away. She swallowed the almost unbearable disappointment as she drank in the sight of his tall muscular body just a few feet in front of her as he strode toward the door to the plane which now stood open.

He paused in the wide aisle and turned around to face her again, blocking her way. Reaching out, he cupped her jaw and Elizabeth heard the thud-thud as the packs dropped to the carpeted floor behind him. "When I say I'm going home, I mean I'm going wherever you are. I love you, Beth. Have from the moment I laid eyes on you. I want to marry you. I want to take you to Italy, and make love to you in the sunshine, and in moonlight. I want babies with you. And a dog. And a garden for the kids and dogs to play in, with room for our tent. I want the whole package, Doctor Elizabeth Bennett Goodall. With you."

Heart singing with happiness, she wrapped her arms around his neck, lips curved in a triumphant smile. "I love you, Sam."

"Marry me," he whispered against her waiting mouth. "I promise you the adventure of a lifetime."

"Yes," she said when he let her up for air. "Wherever you are will be my adventure. Let's go home, my love."