At the Edge Page 4

  “Jake has the MREs.” Ryan dug around in his vest until he found a packet of sports gel. He held it out. “But this might tide you over.”

  She hesitated. “What about you?”

  “I’m good.”

  She bit her lip again.

  “Go ahead.”

  She took the packet. Ryan busied himself zipping up the first-aid kit, then stood up and looked around. Time to get started on the hide before it got too dark to see. He pulled out his Ka-Bar knife and started sawing away at some vines. When he had some good-length pieces cut, he began lashing them together.

  “What are you making?” She glanced up at him, a little worry line between her eyebrows.

  “A shelter.”

  “But . . . aren’t we leaving soon?”

  The fear in her voice tugged at him. “We might be getting some rain first.”

  She sucked at the sports gel, and a bolt of lust went straight to his groin. Ryan looked away. Beads of sweat popped up along his forehead, and it had nothing to do with the sweltering climate. This girl was scorching hot, and she didn’t even know it.

  He stepped away from their little encampment and started looking for the kind of leaves he needed.

  The air shifted. Ryan swung his rifle up and went still. He listened until he heard a familiar birdcall, then lowered his weapon. A second later, Jake and Ethan stepped from the forest.

  Emma gasped, clutching her hand to her chest. Her eyes widened as she stared up at his two large teammates. She had absolutely no idea how glad they were to see her.

  “Hey, hey. Lookie here.” Jake flashed Ryan a grin. “I knew this was our lucky day.”

  ———

  “She’s not like I expected,” Ethan said.

  His voice was loaded with admiration, and Ryan darted a glance at Emma. She was seated with her back against a tree while Jake knelt beside her, giving her a field check.

  Everyone liked her, Ryan could tell. Part of it was that she was female and she came in a very nice—although dirty—little package. But that wasn’t the only reason. She was resourceful, too, which any SEAL could appreciate. Despite an injured ankle, she’d hiked to the top of a ridge and tried to get the sat phone up and running. And then she’d spent the night alone in the jungle, sheltering under a tree root and using mud as insect repellent.

  Ryan glanced at Jake again. He was wrapping her ankle, and although his movements were purely professional, his gaze kept darting to Emma’s breasts. Ryan felt a surge of irritation, which he decided to ignore. For now.

  “We sure she’s not a spook?” Lucas asked.

  A lot of embassy employees were but not this one.

  “Not according to her file,” Ryan said, lashing more branches together. “Weren’t you listening in the briefing? Her dad’s a congressman. She probably got her job through his connections.”

  “I don’t know,” Lucas said. “To me, she seems trained. I’m thinking she’s CIA.”

  “Are you kidding?” Ethan said. “She’s a freaking art major from USC. The University of Spoiled Children. No way she’s a spook.”

  But they continued to gawk at her as they debated in low voices. Emma was oblivious, at least, but Ryan was running low on patience.

  “Hey, anyone want to shut the fuck up and gimme a hand here? We’re losing daylight.”

  They moved over to help with the shelter, even though it was almost finished. It was a good one, too. One of Ryan’s better hides.

  Finally, Jake completed his little checkup and trudged over. He crouched beside the gear and zipped his medical kit back into his pack.

  Ryan folded his arms over his chest. “How is she?”

  “Sprained, not broken.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “Swelling’s down. I wrapped it good and tight, so . . .” Jake glanced over his shoulder. “Mostly she’s just tired. Said she didn’t sleep last night. She’s dehydrated, too. She was sucking down fluids pretty well, but I couldn’t get her to eat anything besides sports gel. Said she feels nauseous. I’m guessing from anxiety.”

  “Ya think? After her plane dropped out of the sky?”

  Jake shot him a look.

  “Yeah, that, and maybe she got a look at the pilot,” Ethan added. “That right there’ll cause you some anxiety. That was no crash injury, that bullet to the brain.”

  Ryan looked toward Emma again. Did she even know her pilot had been murdered and not killed in the crash? Ryan wasn’t sure. He’d spent more time with her than anyone, but their conversation hadn’t gone that far.

  He also didn’t know if she’d seen the wing, the one that had been shorn off the aircraft.

  “We need to check out the LZ,” Ryan said. Their planned extraction point was at the top of the hill, but they needed more intel on the landing zone. The U.S. military hadn’t set foot on this island since World War II, and Ryan’s team was using outdated maps.

  “When do you want to go?” Ethan asked.

  “Now.” Ryan checked his watch. “The hide’s finished. We’ll get her moved, let her get some sleep. I figure we’re looking at ninety minutes there and back.”

  “I’m coming with you.”

  Everyone turned around. Emma still had her head resting against the tree trunk, but her eyes were open.

  “My ankle’s much better now.”

  Jake shot him a pointed look.

  Ryan walked over and dropped into a crouch in front of her.

  “We need to do some quick recon before the moon comes up,” he said. “You should stay here, get some rest.”

  “I’m going.”

  Ryan bit back a curse. She was crazy to think she could keep up with them, even without an injury. But he knew better than to tell her that.

  “The shelter I built—”

  “I’m going.” She sat forward. “Just help me up.”

  “Ma’am.” He rested a firm hand on her shoulder. “Remember our conversation earlier? You said you’d do what I needed you to do, when I needed you to do it, no arguments.”

  “No, you said that.” She removed his hand. “I said don’t call me ma’am.”

  Ryan heard a snicker behind him. He gritted his teeth. They were on a clock here, and he didn’t have time to argue with her. But she had that determined glint in her eyes, the one he’d seen in her passport photo.

  Fuck.

  “Emma.” He held her gaze to make sure he had her attention. “I need you to listen to me. The route we’re taking is a sixty-degree incline in some places, and in other places it’s a straight-up climb. You can’t do it on that bad ankle.” She couldn’t do it period, but he’d stick with the ankle argument.

  “But my swelling’s down. Your paramedic said so himself.”

  “Jake,” the corpsman said, stepping over. “And I also said it needs to stay elevated.”

  Emma glared up at him. Then her eyes found Ryan’s, and he saw the glimmer of fear there. “I’m not staying here by myself,” she said tightly.

  “We’re talking ninety minutes, probably less if we move out soon.”

  “Ryan . . . please? I’ll keep up, I promise. I’m stronger than I look.”

  God damn it.

  It was the “please” that did it. And the pleading look on her face. She did not want to be left alone in the dark again.

  He glanced over his shoulder at his teammates. It wouldn’t take four men to scout out the landing zone. He looked at Jake, and a silent understanding passed between them.

  “You guys go on,” Ryan said. “I’ll stay here.”

  “Roger that.”

  Jake walked away, and Emma’s shoulders slumped.

  Thank you, she mouthed, and Ryan felt his stomach tighten. She looked intensely relieved. And grateful.

  And Ryan’s sick mind was already drea
ming up ways for her to repay him.

  SIX

  * * *

  Ryan helped sort the gear and then watched as the rest of his team disappeared into the trees.

  “How much longer until, you know, lights out?”

  He looked at Emma.

  “It happens fast,” she added.

  “You noticed that, huh?” He glanced up at the trees. “I’d say about . . . eight minutes.”

  “Eight?”

  “It’s an estimate.”

  She cast a nervous look at the shelter. She started to get to her feet, and Ryan helped her. “I, um . . .” She looked around.

  “You’re afraid of the dark?”

  She blinked up at him.

  “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Plenty of guys I know don’t like sleeping in the jungle.”

  She looked around again, and realization dawned.

  “You need to relieve yourself.”

  She nodded.

  “We’d better make it quick.”

  “I got it.” She shook his hand off.

  “You don’t need to be shy around me, Emma. I’ve pretty much seen it all.”

  She glared up at him now. Even with all the dirt, he could see that her cheeks were pink with embarrassment.

  “Fine, suit yourself,” he said, stepping away.

  She hobbled off, and Ryan turned his attention to the shelter. He’d built it for one, so he made a few adjustments before spreading an olive-green poncho on the ground.

  “Looks like we’re going to get some rain tonight,” he told her when she came back. She didn’t say anything as he helped her into the shelter. She arranged her ankle on top of a rock and leaned back against the tree, not looking at him.

  She seemed quiet, but he didn’t know whether that was her usual state or whether she was in some kind of mental lockdown, maybe brought on by their rapidly darkening surroundings.

  He combed through his pack until he managed to find a flattened granola bar.

  “Chocolate chip.” He handed it to her.

  “No, thank you.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah.” She cleared her throat. “It’s weird, I’m just . . . I don’t think I could keep anything down.”

  He set the granola bar aside for later and glanced through the foliage of the hide he’d made. They were situated in a stand of trees that backed up to an outcropping of rock, which made a natural shelter. They were in for some weather, but he hoped it wouldn’t be anything bad enough to delay the extract.

  Around them the forest started to take on a purple hue. Emma remained silent and tense, and he found himself in the unusual position of trying to think up ways to get a woman to talk to him.

  “So.” He cleared his throat. “What exactly were you doing out here?”

  She turned to look at him. “You mean . . . here here? Like, this particular trip or—”

  “Yeah.” He figured if he could get her talking, he’d be better able to dodge a looming anxiety attack.

  “Our basic aid mission,” she said. “We go to the most remote provinces and administer vaccines, bring medical supplies. We help with sanitation—you know, water purification, building latrines, stuff like that.”

  “So this is a regular thing?”

  “It’s been almost a year, so I guess it’s still sort of new. Renee wants—” She paused. “Wanted to reach some of the overlooked areas in the countryside.”

  “The ambassador ever go on these things?”

  “Sometimes. He’s away a lot, so . . .” She looked away. “He’d planned to go on this one, but he got tied up in Singapore. Some kind of economic forum.” She turned to face him. “Does he even know yet? About Renee?”

  He heard the distress in her voice and felt a stab of sympathy for her. “I don’t know what he knows,” Ryan said. And that was the truth. This entire op had been thrown together at the last minute, and he’d barely been briefed on the logistics, much less the broader circumstances.

  And then it happened. Everything went black.

  “Lights out,” he said softly.

  Emma didn’t respond. He looked at her, but of course he couldn’t see a damn thing, not even an outline of her. He could feel her tension, though, almost as thick as the darkness. “Ryan?” Her voice was soft and tentative.

  “I’m right here.”

  She scooted closer to him on the poncho, and he felt an odd sense of satisfaction. His presence steadied her, made her feel safer. She hadn’t wanted him to go on the recon mission, and now she wanted him practically glued to her side. He knew it was just a natural response to everything she’d been through, but still he liked it. Maybe a little too much.

  “What’s an LZ?” she asked.

  He thought back to the conversation earlier, trying to come up with what else she’d overheard.

  “A landing zone,” he said. “Our extraction point tonight is at the top of a hill.”

  He heard her quick intake of breath. “So we’re going by air, then.”

  “Helo,” he said. “That’s Navy-speak for helicopter.”

  And suddenly he understood. It wasn’t the darkness that was freaking her out, it was the extraction. Shit, why hadn’t he realized it sooner? Her plane had crashed, and he was about to take her right back up in the air.

  “It’ll be a breeze,” he said. “We’re looking at a quick hop up to Clark. That’s the air base in Manila.”

  “I know what Clark is.” Her voice sounded tight.

  Ryan sat there, listening to her breathing. He had this crazy urge to put his arm around her. His instincts told him she’d like that, that it would soothe her. But he held off. “You okay?” Which was definitely a dumb-ass thing to ask her. What would he do if she said no?

  “I’m fine. I guess . . . You guys are SEALs, right? I guess I was hoping for maybe a boat.”

  He smiled in the darkness. “Who told you we’re SEALs?”

  “I figured it out.”

  Good for her. She was smart, but she hadn’t figured out all of it. She had no way of knowing he was with Alpha Crew, an elite fighting force within an already-elite fighting force. Alpha was a secret unit, so secret few people even knew of its existence. Ryan hadn’t even known of it until he’d been tapped to join.

  “Yes, we’re SEALs. But no, I’m afraid a boat’s not in the plans tonight. Not unless something goes wrong.”

  She tensed beside him, and he realized that had been an even dumber-ass thing to say. He needed to get his shit together, but he was distracted by a few things. Her scent, for one. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been hunkered down on a mission with a woman’s coconut-scented shampoo a few inches from his nose.

  And her body, for another. He couldn’t stop picturing that smear of dirt between her breasts. He’d never given mud wrestling much thought, but his brain had been busy all afternoon with images of Emma Wright straddling him in the mud.

  And he had to remind himself that she was completely off-limits. She was his mission, period. Not someone he should be dreaming about.

  She was a crash survivor. A congressman’s daughter, no less. His job was to rescue her, not make her the star of his personal sex fantasy. But damn, why did she have to have that mouth on her?

  Ryan needed to get home. Soon. This was always a danger at the end of a tour. Guys would start getting distracted, lose focus. It was the reason so many people died in combat when they were mere days away from going home.

  And wasn’t that a sobering thought?

  Nobody was fucking dying tonight. He needed to stop thinking about sex and focus his full attention on the task at hand.

  Emma had gotten quiet again. Definitely not a good sign.

  ———

  “So how’d a nice girl like you end up building latrines?”

&nb
sp; Emma looked at the man beside her. Not that she could see his face any more than he could see hers.

  A nice girl like her . . . She’d gone from “ma’am” to “girl,” and she didn’t like either.

  “Uh, girl? I’m twenty-six years old, thank you very much.”

  “I know.”

  He knew. Of course he did.

  He’d probably seen the State Department’s file on her, which meant he knew not only her age but plenty of even more personal details, such as her height and her weight and her medical history. He probably knew that her mother was dead and that her father was a famous politician. He probably knew that her fiancé had dumped her three weeks before their wedding day.

  Emma closed her eyes. She was being a bitch here. Touchy and difficult wasn’t her normal style. But right now she was sleep-deprived and thirsty. And deathly afraid of whatever was going to happen later tonight.

  Don’t think about it.

  “Are you going to tell me, or is it some top-secret story?”

  She sighed. “I guess you could say it was luck.”

  “Luck, huh?” His voice was low and deep, and again she tried to place his accent. Something Southern but not twangy. Florida, maybe?

  “More or less. I had kind of an abrupt career change that put me on a different course,” she said. “I had taken the Foreign Service exam after college, and then later, when an opening in the Philippines came up, they asked if I wanted it, and . . . I ended up here.”

  “An abrupt career change. So you got fired, huh?”

  So much for euphemisms. “Yup,” she said. “Ever happen to you?”

  “Nope, never.” He shifted beside her. “Wait, that’s a lie. I got fired when I was sixteen.”

  “What happened?” She blinked at him in the darkness, wishing she could see his face as he gave her this glimpse of who he was underneath all the camouflage paint.

  “It was my first real job.” His voice sounded relaxed now, and she felt herself relax some, too. “I was a lifeguard down on the beach in Jacksonville. I got to work by the water, meet girls. It was an excellent gig, until one afternoon I told my supervisor to eff off. He canned me on the spot.”