Full Throttle(28)

“We?” she stressed, her relief taking an instant hit. “As in, you and me? There’s not an entire platoon of Rangers waiting for us outside?” And would you look at that? She wasn’t stumbling over her words because her tongue was no longer twice its usual size. The drug may be fast-acting, but it was also short-lived. Praise be to Merlin’s beard!

“That was the original plan.” He shoved the clip back into his pocket. “But as you know, shit happens. And now you’re stuck with little ol’ me.”

Well, she could think of many worse people to be stuck with. Just about anyone else was worse when compared to Carlos, in fact. But in the same breath, and not to be ungrateful or anything, she sure would feel better about this little rescue mission if there were fifty or so armed servicemen waiting outside.

“We’re going to move QQS.” He turned his back to her and pulled her arms around his neck. Standing, he took her weight against his back, then realized the drug’s effects still prohibited her from wrapping her legs around his waist.

Yep. She was beginning to get the impression this rescue plan had been made on the fly.

“What’s QQS?” she whispered when he sat back down on the bed, supporting her weight as he removed the army-green belt from the loops of his cargo pants.

“Quick, quiet, and small.” He pushed up her long skirt and wrapped her legs around his waist so he could cinch his belt tight around her calves. This time when he stood, manacling her wrists over his shoulders with one strong hand and holding his weapon at the ready with the other, she was the human version of a backpack.

To say the position was humiliating would be an understatement. And her complete and utter uselessness infuriated her. Here he was, risking life and limb to save her, and she could do nothing to help him. She wanted to scream. Instead, she turned her head—hallelujah, her neck muscles appeared to be working—to murmur in his ear. “In case I forget later, thank you for coming for me.”

“Of course.” He glanced over his shoulder, his beard stubble rasping deliciously against her lips. “Did you doubt I would?”

“No,” she admitted. “Not for one minute.” Even though they’d lost touch for so long, she’d always known he wouldn’t hesitate to come if she ever called. He’d promised her as much the last day they spoke. And she’d taken comfort in knowing he was out there, somewhere, keeping the world safe, ready to hop-to at the drop of a hat…the most wonderfully loyal, courageous man ever.

The same man she’d foolishly and unforgivably deceived eight years ago…

“Ready?” he asked, adjusting her weight. Thank God the stifling heat of Malaysia had put the kibosh on her appetite over the last few days, resulting in a not-unwelcome five-pound weight loss. Because even though Steady was built like a bull, stocky and strong, she didn’t suffer under the illusion that carting her around was going to be easy.

“Let’s do this,” she told him, refusing to acknowledge the fact that her breasts were smashed against his broad back.

“Good girl.” He covertly peeked from the rear entrance of the hut before jogging silently toward edge of the clearing.

She bounced lightly with each of his quickened steps, reveling in the feel of him against her, so forceful, so sure, his body a smoothly working machine. She wondered idly why she wasn’t still scared out of her head. From the looks and sounds of it, they were a far cry from being out of the woods…er…jungle? But it was Carlos who’d come for her. Carlos…who she was pretty sure was the real-life equivalent of Superman, Batman, and Captain America all rolled into one. Nuclear fallout could be raining from the sky, and if she was by his side…er…on his back?…she was pretty sure she’d feel invincible.

Good girl… His last words whispered through her head as he ducked into the jungle, dodging the slap of wet leaves and jumping over the snaking maze of roots that threatened to trip him.

Good girl? Oh, how she wished that were true. How she wished it could ever possibly be true…

* * *

Logging Track 3B

Seventy-five minutes later…

So far, so good…

The hum of the Ducati was reassuring, as was Abby’s tightened grip around Steady’s waist. They were riding down the devil’s own washed-out, rutted, rock-filled hell of a rubber tree logging road, and for the first ten minutes of the harrowing journey, while she’d still been suffering the lingering effects of the sedative, it was just as difficult to keep her on the bike as it was to navigate the frackin’ jungle track.

But now they were clipping along at a steady, if decidedly slow, pace. No JI goons could be seen in his rearview mirrors—though it was hard to tell exactly, given the fact that the forest encroached from both sides and above. And if his calculations were correct, a half hour or so more should see them entering the lovely kingdom of Thailand.