Her Seal Protector. Jillian Burns

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СКАЧАТЬ about Mr. Van Horton? And James?” James’s terror had never subsided. Inside the well it had gotten worse. Gabby had tried to comfort him as best she could, but he’d grown steadily less stable as the hours passed. “They’re going to make it home, too, right?”

      He nodded. “Mr. Pender is on his way to the American embassy.”

      “And Mr. V?”

      The soldier hesitated.

      Oh no. Gabby could feel her eyes sting with more tears. Mr. V was dead? She’d never known anyone who’d been murdered before. She’d tried to nurse him as best she could, asking their captors for water and medicine for his fever, but Mr. V had never regained consciousness.

      “Can you get up?” The soldier slid a strong arm around her waist and she cried out.

      He yanked it back, blood smeared on his palm. “What the—” He looked at his hand. “You’re bleeding? You were hit?”

      “I don’t know.” Her voice shook. She twisted to try to see and whimpered at the stab of pain.

      The soldier spat out a curse word, dropped his helmet and backpack, then dug inside the pack and pulled out a first aid kit.

      She’d been shot? She could feel panic rise up and choke her. She’d survived two days with homicidal kidnappers only to be shot? What if she bled to death? Mr. V was dead and now her. What if this soldier couldn’t get the bullet out, or it was lodged in her spine or—

      “Take off your shirt.”

      Gabby froze and blinked at him, but he wasn’t even looking at her. He was busy pulling out a pack of wet wipes, a tube of ointment and a roll of gauze.

      A wild urge to laugh bubbled up. She must be in shock. Of course the GI didn’t mean anything sexual by his demand, but this wasn’t exactly how she’d pictured herself undressing for a guy for the first time. Well, she wasn’t panicked anymore.

      “Ms. Diaz? I need to see to your injury.”

      “Yes. Okay.” She turned away from him, forcing her fingers to undo the buttons on her formerly white silk blouse.

      He helped her lower it off her shoulders and down her arms, then she felt gentle fingers wiping something cold across the middle of her back. It stung and she tensed. There was sharp surface pain, but she didn’t feel anything internal. That had to be good, right? “Is it...?”

      “Just a graze. You’ll be fine. I’m applying a topical antibiotic.”

      Just a graze. She breathed out a relieved and grateful breath.

      She felt him smear some ointment on and then heard ripping paper as he pressed a bandage to her back and began winding the roll of gauze around her. His arms wrapped around her waist and his whiskered jaw grazed her cheek. He froze, the sides of his hands touching her rib cage. She sucked in and then realized that only lifted her breasts higher. He had an up close and personal view of the cleavage above her bra.

      She turned her head to look at him and their gazes met.

      His lips were parted and she could see that they weren’t as harsh as they’d looked before. They were sensual and—they flattened as he sat back on his heels and continued wrapping the gauze around her. But when he returned to her front he very carefully kept his arms at a distance. And his gaze averted.

      What would it be like to kiss those lips? What if...

      “There you go.” He tied off the gauze and draped her blouse across her shoulders.

      What was wrong with her? She could still die and she was thinking about kissing? She gingerly stuck her arms back in her sleeves and buttoned her shirt.

      “Here.” He extended a bottle of water and she grabbed it and drank greedily.

      “Thank you.” She tried to give the bottle back.

      “Take these.” He held two small pills in his palm. “For the pain.”

      “Thanks.” She tossed them in her mouth and swallowed with another sip of water while the soldier started packing up the medical kit. He was cute. In a boyish kind of way. Which seemed a silly description for a large, hard-muscled, military guy. Maybe it was the buzz-cut hair, or his kindness in caring for her.

      She shook her head. “How far to the Jeep or helicopter or whatever?”

      Zipping up his pack, he slung it over one shoulder, replaced his helmet without snapping the chin straps and stood. He drew in a breath before finally looking at her. “Are you ambulatory?”

      She nodded, but before she could straighten, a deep, menacing feline growl echoed somewhere close to them and Gabby froze. She’d grown accustomed to the constant background noises of the jungle. The chirp and buzz of insects, the weird shrieks of birds, the clicks of beetles, even the screeching monkeys, but this—this panther, or leopard, or whatever it was that lived in this jungle, sounded ominous.

      Large hands grasped her under the shoulders and lifted her to her feet as if she weighed no more than a feather. She stood face-to-hard-chest with the soldier, so close she could smell a subtle—and pleasant—masculine musk. She became hyper-aware of his hands cupping the sides of her chest. His thumbs rested just above the slope of her breasts. If he slid them down a few inches he could rub the tips of her hardening nipples. Her breathing hitched and she looked up into his eyes.

      His Adam’s apple moved as his tongue came out to lick his lips. “We gotta go.” He removed his hands and stepped back.

      Reality intruded on her thoughts. The griminess of her skin. The rough texture of her mud-caked clothes. The ragged tear in the side of her best pencil skirt. And the absurdity of wearing pumps with one heel broken off.

      How could she even be thinking about anything sexual right now?

      Besides, he hadn’t answered her question. “There is a Jeep or a helicopter coming for us, right?” she asked.

      “Affirmative.” Confident. No hesitation. That was good.

      He reached into a Velcro-sealed pocket on his pant leg, pulled out a tube of ointment and handed it to her. “This will help with the mosquitoes.”

      A little late. Bites covered her arms and legs. As she smeared the ointment on exposed skin, he took the bottle of water from her, screwed the lid back on and stuck it in another large pants pocket low on his thigh. “We need to ration this.”

      Okay, that was less good. “Um...how long—”

      “Let’s go.” He put words into action, sticking his other arm through the backpack strap and hitching it over his shoulder as he strode off.

      Tamping down a niggle of dread, Gabby followed. “Look, I realize I kind of lost it back there, but I promise I won’t get all hysterical if you tell me the truth. Whatever it is, I can handle knowing bad news better than not knowing.”

      He stopped and twisted to meet her gaze. “We need to travel about ten clicks—roughly about six miles—by nightfall. I’d rather not travel in the dark.”

      Panic almost swamped СКАЧАТЬ