Page 25 of D-Day

“That’s admirable,” he murmured.

She looked around at the progress the twins’ followers were making with the camp. It was phenomenal, but they were usedto this kind of heat. “How about you?” she asked, indicating the camp in front of them. “Why are you helping us?”

He leaned toward her, his eyes growing serious. “Lando and I grew up here. Our father was a fisherman, and our mother tended the home. We are of these people, and we care what happens to them. Some of our proceeds go to help. We are aware what we do is regarded as heinous by many of our communities, but it is a reality of life here. There are others who would prey on them, but even though they fear us, they are grateful for what we provide.”

That surprised the hell out of her. She hadn’t expected that kind of an answer, and although she was sympathetic to any kind of suffering, she couldn’t condone what they did for a living, and she certainly would never condone WMDs. How could those possibly help anyone?

The sound of rotors beat against the sky, like a pulsating heart, a sultry wind rustling through the trees as she looked under the shade of the foliage and saw that black helicopter swooping across the cloudless blue like a dark bird of prey.

D-Day.

She braced herself against seeing him again, especially after what they had done last night. Her whole body tingled with the memory. The chopper landed and D-Day, Buck, and Zorro exited, but she could only focus on him.

“Ah, the gunslinger is back,” Taer said with disdain, but there was a healthy dose of respect in his tone. The kind of inherent respect that predators had for each other, knowing that they were their match or surpassed them in threat. But gunslinger was the right term for D-Day. Although, she suspected Taer had meant to say gunrunner. “Don’t worry, Helen. He will behave himself or I will see to it.” His words set off her heart as it suddenly jammed against her ribs, hammering frantically as fear churned through her. One misstep and it could all turn so bad.They had this deadly dance to play out, and it would have to look good.

She was aware he was a SEAL, but she’d never seen him decked out in all his gear, and it was a sight to behold. He was dressed for the jungle in multi-green colored fatigue pants that molded to his lower body, and she was quite aware of what he looked like beneath the garment. Delineated perfection, all that muscle bisecting in his abs, hips, and legs, and his generous…ah…meltingly male endowment.

Beneath a military green T-shirt, a tactical vest wrapped around his wide chest. His eyes were straight ahead as he walked, navigating the uneven ground without even checking where he was placing his feet. He appeared at ease despite the fact that a high-powered automatic weapon with a scope dangled from one of his hands. Helen took stock of the various weapons holstered or sheathed on his muscular frame, noting the machete secured at his back, and the sidearm strapped to his thick thigh, along with the handle of a long knife tucked into the front of the vest. This wasn’t your everyday knife. It was a combat knife, and it was meant to be used on…people. In his other hand, he carried a huge backpack.

There was something about the way warriors moved…six feet of pure predator, the hawklike gaze and chiseled cheekbones, the lean angle of his jaw. Yeah, he’d lost weight, and her heart twisted at the sight. She could barely handle it. Swallowing against the sudden tightness of her throat, Helen shifted, working at keeping her internal thoughts secret.

He, Buck, and Zorro approached. She met her brother’s eyes, but they were hooded. He and Zorro looked as dangerous and tough as D-Day. Stopping in front of Taer, he nodded to the warlord. His eyes flicked to her.

“Didn’t expect to see you again, love,” he murmured, managing to slide that menacing tone into his voice as if it was aseasy as breathing. The Australian accent was flawless…and sexy on him. God, who was this man? She wanted to peel the layers off him to get to his core, then break all of that down until she was as intimate to him as his own thoughts. It shook her hard how he moved her to think these kinds of crazy thoughts. But it didn’t make the longing any easier to control. “But you take serendipity as it comes, yeah?”

“I’m not your love.” How wrong were those words, but she again shied away from any of those thoughts. She had to keep her mind on this confrontation.

Taer laughed.

D-Day gave her a mocking smile. “We’ll see about that, won’t we?” he said, then looked at Taer as if she had been dismissed. “We have business to discuss.”

Buck stepped up to her. “Get lost, bitch,” he growled.

“Watch your mouth,” Taer growled back. “Thank you for the conversation, Helen. It’s best if you get back to your camp set up.”

She nodded, gave Buck a caustic glare, and lifted her chin. “Thank you for the shade and the drink.”

Greg was also evicted as Lando bid him to leave. He came alongside her. “Who are those guys?” he asked.

“Gunrunners,” she said, taking another long look at D-Day. “He’s their leader, Graham Butler.”

“I’m getting a very bad feeling about all of this,” he whispered, throwing another look at the SEALs and the warlords. “They don’t like each other.”

That was an understatement. For the rest of the day, she focused on getting the camp ready for patients tomorrow. But by the time the sun set, and darkness had fallen, Helen was exhausted, hot, and filthy. Luckily the showers had been set up inside an enclosed tent—no more than a box with a partition of wood. She grabbed her shower kit and a towel from her tent,then opened the flap and ducked inside. No one was in there, and she set the sign to occupied, and stripped down, hanging her clean clothes on a hook beside the farthest stall. She entered the wooden box and turned on the water. It was tepid but felt so good as the persistent heat of the jungle had reduced down to a steamy bearable temperature. She washed her hair, her body, and was rinsing off when she heard a rustle, then turned to find D-Day entering the tent. Her heart gave a hard, heavy thud, her nipples tightened, and her stomach fluttered, all of that energy narrowing down to the triangle between her legs. He was stripped to the waist, his lean, powerful torso glistening with sweat. He had clean clothes in his hand along with his own kit.

“Have you gone mad?” she hissed.

“Don’t worry. Buck and Zorro are outside. The twins left about thirty minutes ago. We’re tracking them, so the coast is clear. They will make sure we’re not bothered. We just need to talk.”

She raised her brows, her eyes running down his body. “Is that all?”

He gave her a wicked, torturous grin. “Your brother is right outside, Helen, and technically we’re both on a mission.”

“So, he doesn’t have to know what we’re doing, and there’s nothing to do right now about the mission.” She shrugged. “Didn’t you say we’re supposed to talk? We can multitask,” she murmured. “Besides, showering together will save water, and if you wash my back, I’ll wash yours.”

D-Day stared at her across the partition. “Now who’s gone mad?”

“I’ve been mad for you from day one, handsome, and you know it. So, stop protesting and worrying about my freaking brother, like a good little boy scout. Get out of those damn clothes and get over here. After that dramatic entrance, I’m unable to keep my hands off you.”

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