Page 12 of Hot Soldier's Rescue

Scowling, he retorted, “Or else I’ll tell the law you stole that moped, and you’ll be thrown in jail.” Not to mention, he would seriously consider strangling her when he caught up with her.

“You wouldn’t.” She sounded genuinely horrified.

“I would.” He stalked over to the door and tossed out one last warning and order. “Stay put until I get back. Got it?”

A long-suffering sigh. “Got it.”

Why couldn’t he stay mad at her? He relented enough to mumble, “I’ll be back as soon as I can. I promise.”

* * *

Elise slept badly that night,tossing and turning in the narrow bed without Drago’s scent to comfort her. How could that man make her so crazy and make her feel so safe at the same time? He was an arms dealer, which meant he was anything but safe. And yet, something about him called to her. If only she weren’t masquerading as a nun! Of course, she wouldn’t have made it this far without the disguise, but still. The restraints of it chafed. Who’d have guessed she’d bump into a smoking-hot guy out here in the wilds of the Colombian jungle?

The next day passed slowly. But the third day was maddening. She was bored to tears, sick of staring at her little room’s walls, and she couldn’t very well explain to the proprietor that she needed more than the Bible on her bed stand to distract her or she was going to lose her mind soon.

Drago said three days. Had something happened to him? Was he in trouble? Hurt? Captive? In need of rescue? Should she go after him? She was reasonably confident she could find the Army of Freedom camp again. Assuming Enrique hadn’t moved it. And what of her contact within that bunch? Would he have given up on someone coming for the children by now? Told his family to just kill the Garza kids and be done with it?

The sun started to set and red light flooded her room, turning the far wall into a sheet of blood. That was when she gave in to the panic, complete with hyperventilation, inability to form coherent thoughts and an overwhelming need to flee for her life. She was a nurse, for goodness’ sake. She saw blood all the time and it never freaked her out. But she hadn’t been back to Colombia since she lost her folks. And everything about this trip reminded her way too much of the last time she’d been here and seen a wall covered in blood.

Coming here had been a terrible idea. What on earth Father Ambrose had been thinking to trick her into coming down here, she hadn’t the slightest idea. Images of her parents flashed through her brain almost too quickly to process. Happy ones of them traveling the Colombian countryside together. Her father praying by lantern light. Her mother’s quiet strength as she worked side by side with local women, easing their lives for a few moments. And other images. Bloody. Violent. Sickening.

She slid down the wall, curling up in a ball on the hard, wooden floor. God, she missed them so much. If only she hadn’t been so damned young and impatient to strike out on her own and get away from them. If only she’d enjoyed them more while she’d had them, told them more often how much she loved them…

The tears, when they finally came, were hot and painful and plentiful. She cried as though she hadn’t cried in years. It was being back in this country that triggered it all. She couldn’t do this. It hurt too much. First thing in the morning, she was obtaining a vehicle and getting out of here.

Finally, no more tears came. Wrung out, she climbed into bed numbly. Three days had passed and Drago hadn’t come back for her. What had she been thinking to trust the word of an illegal arms dealer? She’d already lost too much time to him. Enough was enough. She was going home.

Sharp regret that he hadn’t kept his word disturbed her restless sleep, and maybe that was why she heard her doorknob turning stealthily sometime after midnight. How had the person on the other side of that panel gotten the thing unlocked anyway? She looked around for a weapon, and only the lamp was close at hand. She grabbed it high up by the bulb and flipped it upside down, making an impromptu club of the heavy base. Creeping quietly, she made her way over to the door. Poised to wallop whoever came through it, she held her breath and watched the knob turn by slow degrees.

The door cracked open and a narrow strip of light fell across the floorboards. With a wordless shout, she jumped forward to brain whoever was about to come in.

“Whoa there, Elise!” Drago threw up his arms and blocked his face as she swung the lamp with all her might.

She tried to stop the blow, but the lamp was heavy and she was scared. It landed with a heavy thud on his forearm and upper skull. He dropped like a rock to the floor.

Oh, God. Had she killed him? Panicked, she dropped to her knees beside him, checking for bleeding. Did he have a fractured skull or worse? A goose egg was already rising under his short, curly hair. Frantic, she pried one of his eyelids open to check his pupil.

Strong arms whipped up around her, jerking her down to his chest forcefully. Muscle surrounded her on all sides. Delicious, bulging, firm muscle. That smelled good. Lord, he made her feel small and weak and vulnerable. And oh so tempted to do something no nun would even consider.

“If you ever—” the words ground out furiously from between his gritted teeth “—hit me like that again—” a second eye opened to glare at her along with the first one “—I swear—” his arms tightened around her until she could barely breathe “—I’ll turn you over my knee and spank you until you can’t sit down.”

She gasped as fury rolled off of him, drowning her in the sheer maleness of it.

“Understood?” he bit out.

“Yes, sir,” she replied in a small, chastened voice. “I didn’t see who you were until it was too late to stop my swing. Are you okay?”

“My arm hurts. And my head’s killing me. Were you some sort of baseball player in your prior life?”

She grinned down at him, and it dawned on her that their mouths were about twelve inches apart. Almost in kissing range. And he had such a kissable mouth. Firm and generous. He seemed like the kind of man who’d take his time and be thorough about it. Warmth made her whole body go soft, and she melted against him…which made his muscular frame feel just that much more wonderful against her body. His heat and hardness were the perfect contrast to her softness.

Their gazes met in the dim light from the hallway and electricity erupted between them. Sex and sparks and sizzling heat all rolled into one incendiary look. Oh, yeah. He was as aware of her as she was of him. And he wanted her the same way she wanted him. And…nothing, darn it! She watched in dismay as horror unfolded in his eyes along with the belated recollection that She. Was. A. Nun.

His arms loosened abruptly. “God, I’m so sorry. I mean, gosh, I’m sorry. I mean…I forgot…please don’t be afraid…won’t hurt you…respect the church…”

He was babbling at her. Big, bad, tough, arms dealer Drago. It was kind of cute, actually. But it was also so immensely frustrating not to be able to just lean down and kiss the big lug that she could scream! Reluctantly, she squirmed, and his arms fell away from her.

Bracing her hands on his mile-wide chest, she pushed herself up and off of him. But not before the heat of him scorched her palms. Must resist the delicious man. More to the point, she really must resist the man engaged in the criminal and dangerous activities, regardless of how hot he might be. But good grief, pushing away from him was hard.

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