Seal of Honor(41)

Tactical move, indeed.

Shuddering, Audrey went boneless beside him. With his fingers still buried inside her, he felt her inner muscles ripple with the aftershocks of her orgasm. Slowly, oh so slowly, so that her plumped, sensitized sex felt every movement, he removed his hand.

A sleepy smile curved her lips as she lifted a hand to his cheek. He turned his face into it, nuzzled her palm once before planting a soft, open-mouth kiss right in the center.

“Gabe,” she said.

“Hmm?” He continued kissing up her arm to her neck, enjoying the goose bumps his lips brought out on her freckled skin despite the humidity in their little hut.

Her fingers tunneled into his hair and rubbed his scalp in a massage almost as sensual as a handjob. “Will you let me take care of you now?”

He swallowed hard at the idea, but caught her other hand before it reached his fly. “I’d love for you to, but it won’t be nearly enough. I’ll want you even more than I already do and I won’t be able to have you.”

“Yes, you—”

“Not here.” Gabe pressed her back as she started to sit up. “Not like this.” He bent to kiss her nose. “Soon, though. When we’re safe, and your brother’s safe, I plan to take you to bed and not let you leave for, ah, let’s say three days. Maybe four. We’ll have to see how we’re feeling by the end of day three. If we can still walk, it’s on, so clear your schedule.”

Audrey flashed a smile bright as a sunrise, just as he’d hoped. “I’d like that.”

“Then it’s a date.” After another quick kiss, he pushed himself upright and took stock of his condition. Besides the raging boner and a mean case of blue balls, he felt pretty good. Had a bit of a crick in his side from sleeping on feedbags, and God Almighty, he needed a shower before he gagged himself.

Amazed that Audrey let him anywhere near her when he smelled like a three-week-old gym bag, he climbed off the feedbags and tested his foot. Still hurt, but not like it had last night, and the swelling had gone down. Nothing he couldn’t handle.

Audrey sat up and watched closely as he strode toward the door. “How’s your foot?”

“Not too bad.” He tried the knob, surprised to find it unlocked. No doubt there was a guard stationed—

A body tumbled inside as the door opened.

“Aw, fuck.” He gazed down at a young face staring with sightless, glazed eyes at the pre-dawn sky. The guard’s neck gaped open in a morbid grin, sliced from ear-to-ear.

“Gabe, what’s wrong? What—”

“Shh.” He waved Audrey back and dropped into a defensive crouch, scanning the campsite.

Another body lay crumpled by the still smoldering fire pit, and a third at the edge of the poppy field. No sign of Cocodrilo, but he thought he saw movement near one of the buildings at his nine.

Had his team found him already?

Gabe cupped his hands around his mouth and whistled, mimicking a birdcall, then listened for five long seconds. No answer. Not Quinn. Shit.

Staying low, he edged far enough out into the open to snag the dead guard’s AK-47 and an extra clip of ammo, then ducked back inside the hut. As far as shelters went, it was pretty pathetic, and they had to get out in case a firefight erupted. The thin wood walls wouldn’t stop even a low caliber round from a pistol. Something more heavy duty from an assault rifle would tear the hut—and anyone inside—to shreds.

They’d have to make a run for it. Only problem with that was he was down to one boot. And wouldn’t you know, the dead guard had tiny feet. He bent over and began unlacing his other boot.

“Gabe?” Audrey climbed to her feet, staring at him with fear-widened eyes. “Oh my God, is that blood?”

“Not mine.” Absently, he wiped his bloody hands on his pants and then kicked off his boot. He’d move faster barefoot. He checked the AK over and ejected the magazine, disappointed to see it half empty. “Goddammit.”

What the hell had the kid been shooting at? Certainly hadn’t been his attacker, or else Gabe would have heard. Fuck, the idiot deserved to die if he didn’t know any better than to walk around on guard duty with a half loaded weapon. Gabe pocketed that clip, hoping he wouldn’t need it, and loaded the fresh one, jacked the charging handle.

“Where’s my knife?” he whispered.

“Uh…” Audrey scrambled to their makeshift bed, running her hands over the bags that still held imprints of their bodies. She pulled the folded knife from a crack between the wall and the feedbags and handed it to him. “Here. What’s happening?”

“Someone’s killing off our guards.”