Deadly Games Page 11

  He was a good kisser.

  He tasted—Was she out of her mind?! She tried to shut her mouth against the sensual invasion.

  “Ow! Shit, no biting.”

  With a palm to his bristly jaw, she shoved his face away from hers. The only Sam she knew was—“SamPelton?” she asked incredulously. Pushing her hair out of her face with her injured hand, she winced as she sat up.

  He—Sam—crouched beside the bed. “Yeah. Don’t scream, for God’s sake.”

  The room was so dark she couldn’t see her hand in front of her face. It was weird hearing Sam’s voice here, and she considered the possibility that she was dreaming. She’d had plenty of dreams about Sam in the last few months. Most of them erotic. His presence was so out of context she couldn’t make any sense of it, and sitting in the pitch dark whispering made the disorientation complete.

  She was probably hallucinating. That was the only explanation. Sam had been a constant presence in her life for months. A constant frustration. She’d seen him around town so often that she’d wondered if it was coincidence, fate, or maybe low-level stalking. But not Sam. He was a complete gentleman at all times, even when she’d dropped subtle hints after her divorce was final.

  Either he didn’t get subtle or he didn’t want her. It didn’t matter, the end result was the same; her simmering lust for him went unnoticed and unsatisfied. Which was why, she supposed, images of his tall, muscular body haunted her sleep night after night.

  It also explained why she’d be hallucinating about him now, when she was probably only hours from death. Thadiwe didn’t strike her as a stupid man. He’d eventually figure out she wasn’t Dr. Randall, if he hadn’t done so already.

  She leaned over to turn on the bedside light, hoping the power was back on, but before her fingers reached the lamp, Sam clamped a hard hand on her wrist, startling a small yelp out of her constricted throat. He didn’t feel like too-safe, too-controlled Sam in the dark. He felt dangerous, and edgy, and a little scary.

  “I took out the generator.” His warm breath stirred the hair near her ear, which made her shudder reactively. So he’d been the one to plunge the compound into darkness. No wonder Thadiwe’s soldiers had been freaked out. She’d heard them running in the corridor outside her room as they tried to figure out what was happening.

  Elizabeth rubbed her wrist as she pictured Sam’s face with its bold, blunt features and dark eyes that gave nothing away. He wasn’t handsome, but he was somehow compelling. Maybe because she sensed that what she saw wasn’t who he really was. She’d always been fascinated by the way he moved with a controlled strength and an edgy awareness that was almost predatory. She’d never been quite able to figure out what made him tick. Although she’d spent many nights trying to figure him out.

  Not that she wasn’t grateful to have him here, odd as that was, but he was sure to be even more out of his element in a rain forest than she was.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded in his general direction as she got off the bed. This went beyond being neighborly.

  “Rescuing you.”

  Talk about the blind leading the blind. Her pounding heart sounded like thunder in her ears, and her rapid pulse made her hand ache.

  “Thank God. But how did you know I needed rescuing?” While she clearly needed help, Elizabeth didn’t want Sam involved. She didn’t want his death on her conscience.

  “We’ll talk about it later. First, take this doxycycline.” Sam placed the antimalarial capsule in her palm. “Water.” He held a flask to her mouth. Elizabeth took the pill and swallowed.

  The flask was removed. “Strip.” His voice deepened as he wiped a drop of water from her lower lip. Since she was licking it off at the same time, her tongue encountered his finger. A frisson that had nothing to do with fear spiraled deep in the pit of her stomach. They both froze for a heartbeat. His warm breath fanned her temple, and the heat of his body seeped through the thin, damp silk of her blouse.

  While she’d love to have heard those words last month, or even yesterday, Sam’s timing was off. “Strip?” Tempting as the request was, she blinked back her good sense. “Sam, are you insane?”

  “You can’t go out in the jungle dressed as you are. I’ve brought you a change of clothes. Hurry and change. I want to put medication on your cuts, and get you sprayed with DEET before we head outside.”

  With no antibiotics, she’d made do washing the cuts as best she could using the water supplied with her meal tray. An open cut in this climate could spell trouble. That almost made her laugh. How much more trouble could she be in?

  Elizabeth could tell from the location of his voice that Sam was standing very close to her. But she hadn’t heard him move, which was a bit unnerving. He was well over six feet tall, so he’d be towering over her own five foot, five inches. The adrenaline rush hadn’t left yet, and her blood still thumped frantically in her ears. He was still disconcertingly close. She swayed in his direction, and his hands shot out to circle her waist. “Steady.”

  She flushed and locked her knees. “Sorry. It’s really disorientating being in the dark like this.” Her lips tingled from their shared kiss. She never would have guessed at his passion; he kept it well hidden.

  “Are you afraid of the dark?” he asked.

  “Of the entire situation.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m here to take care of that.”

  The tile floor was warm and slightly sticky under her bare feet, and the overhead fan barely moved the thick air as she stood there, trying to decide what to do next. “My shoes are somewhere. If you can break off the heels, it’ll make running possible. Better than bare feet anyway.”

  “We need to bring them with us, but I brought you a pair of boots.”

  She locked her knees to prevent her body from swaying toward him again. What she wouldn’t do right now for a reassuring hug. But Sam wasn’t a touchy-feely kind of guy. He never wore his emotions on his sleeve. At least not that she’d seen. Which was too bad, because she’d been attracted to him from the moment they’d met. Not that she’d ever given him any indication of it. They were neighbors. Friends in a way. She didn’t want to rock that boat.

  “Here, let me help you,” he said softly, sliding his hands from her waist to the front of her blouse. The backs of his fingers brushed the upper swell of her breasts as he efficiently unbuttoned her blouse before she could protest. His movements were quick, but the feel of his warm fingers stroking all the way down the center of her body made Elizabeth short of breath. Insanely she wanted him to palm the weight of her breasts and relieve the ache in her peaked nipples. She wanted him to kiss her, and touch her, and do all the things she’d dreamed about doing with him.

  “You can keep on your underwear,” he said softly, not sounding as breathless and heated as Elizabeth felt. “Everything else comes off.” His slightly callused fingers cupped her shoulders, then pushed the blouse off. The blouse fell to the floor behind her with a soft whoosh. Her cheeks went hot even though she knew he couldn’t see her any better than she could see him. The temporary spurt of adventure that had brought her to Africa didn’t extend to Sam seeing her half naked. Him Tarzan, her Jane. Not. She enjoyed the armor of clothing.

  “What did you bring for me to wear?” she asked curiously. She couldn’t begin to imagine Sam picking out a woman’s clothes. Unless it was something slinky in red from Victoria’s Secret. “A loincloth?”

  “Better.” His hands went to the button at the waistband of her black silk pants; the graze of his fingers against her skin made her draw in her breath. “Get these off—” As he spoke, he unzipped and tugged, and before she could protest that she was capable of undressing herself, the smooth fabric fell down her legs like water, leaving her in nothing but a thong and a blush.

  “Okay, step into the feet first.”

  She let Sam guide her movements for two reasons: one, she couldn’t see, and he clearly could; and two, she enjoyed the feel of his hands on her. “Are you wearing nig
ht-vision goggles?”

  “Yeah, but I can close my eyes if you like.” His voice was tinged with laughter. “Shy, Beth?”

  “Not usually, no. But I’m not an exhibitionist either.” The fabric felt odd, but she obligingly placed her bare feet where he positioned them as he knelt in front of her. His warm, damp breath fanned her bare stomach as he leaned forward to pull the tight fabric slowly up her legs and hips. Elizabeth rested her hand on his shoulder for balance.

  He nuzzled her tummy, by accident, or design, she didn’t know. She tried to ignore the fluttering in her belly and the heavy rush of her blood. Down, girl.

  After her ex, Rob, had told her he was leaving, she’d wanted her world shaken up. She’d wanted adventure. Excitement. She wanted, darn it all, to live life instead of hearing or reading about it. She was sick and tired of safe and predictable. Both in men and in her life. Rob had been safe and predictable. Until he’d turned unpredictable and run off with his Internet honey.

  Well, Elizabeth had wanted a wild fling with someone inappropriate, too. Someone who made her blood race, a man who could make her breath catch. She wanted one of those high-octane, alpha males she loved reading about. She’d thought Sam fit the bill to a tee. Unfortunately, he was clearly not interested in her.

  Which was why, against all sane advice, she’d gone to the medical symposium in Cape Town in the first place. Yeah, she thought dryly. Look how well that turned out.

  He palmed her ass, resting his face against her belly as he ran his fingers lightly across her behind. He inhaled deeply. “God, you smell incredible. Lemon and musk. I could eat you right now.”

  The feel of his exploring fingers, and the scalding heat of Sam’s breath against her skin, was making her so hot Elizabeth had to bite her lip to prevent crying out. “Cool your jets, sailor, we’re in deep shit right now. I’m presuming by rescue you mean remove us from this place as fast as possible?” She tapped his shoulder to get his attention, and was appalled at how disappointed she was when he removed his hands from her ass and his mouth from her stomach. She cleared her throat and took a small step away from him. “What’s this? Some kind of bodysuit?”

  “Made out of one of the toughest man-made fibers invented.”

  “Sam, I’m going to die of heat enclosed in this rubbery stuff. Let me put my own clothes back on, and—”

  “LockOut will maintain your body temp at ninety-eight-point-six degrees. It’ll also keep the bugs out. Lift your chin—” He zipped her up all the way. The fabric was lightweight and not that uncomfortable, even if it did cover her from neck to toes.

  “Boots.” He slid each foot into a boot, then laced it. “How’s that feel?”

  She stomped her feet. “Perfect.” How did he know her size?

  “Give me your hand.” Cradling her right hand in his large palm, Sam applied a topical liquid antibiotic, by the smell of it, then, after waiting a few seconds for it to dry, covered the wound with a Band-Aid. “That should do it. Let me know if it bothers you. I can give you a shot.”

  She’d give herself the shot, thank you very much. But it was good to know he had medical supplies should she need them.

  The salve felt cool, and the topical numbing immediately took away some of the pain. “Thanks,” she whispered. “The only thing I had was cold water and the granular sugar they brought me with a meal.”

  “Sugar?” His voice came up from knee level, and she wondered what he was doing, and if he was about to touch her again. Her entire body tensed in anticipation. But by the sounds, he was gathering her clothes. Then she heard a zipper slide, then after a few seconds slide again.

  She forced herself to take nice slow easy breaths. “Decreased the bleeding, promoted clotting, and when push came to shove, the only thing I had to discourage bacteria.”

  The scalpel’s penetrating cut had left a fairly deep gash, ripe for anaerobic bacteria. In this hot, steamy climate even a small open wound was a concern. “How did you know about the cut?”

  “I was watching. That was a hell of a brave thing you did. Letting that asshole cut you like that.”

  “It didn’t stop his boss from demanding I do the surgery anyway. Besides, I’m left-handed.”

  “Yeah. I know. That wasn’t the point; it must hurt like hell.”

  “Less painful than that guy cutting my throat. I shocked him just enough to make him nervous about trying to cut me again. What are you doing in Africa?”

  It was the last place she would’ve imagined running into anyone she knew. Especially Sam Pelton.

  A teacher in a war-torn, third-world country in the middle of a jungle. Sam appeared to be an intelligent man, but she couldn’t imagine what the hell he was going to do to protect the two of them from gun-toting soldiers or a rain forest alive with four-legged predators.

  Apparently God had a sense of humor.

  “Sam, what kind of teacher ar—”

  “Later,” he told her, still speaking so softly she could barely hear him. “Hurry.”

  She was all for hurrying. “They brought me in by Jeep. I think I can find my way back to where it’s parked—”

  “We’re walking out. Through the jungle, then down-river. I have a chopper waiting to fly us out of Huren.”

  The chopper sounded good. “That’s crazy. Why walk when there are perfectly good vehicles—”

  “I pushed one of their Jeeps a mile down the road, then hid it. The rest are disabled. When they discover you’ve left, they’ll assume you drove out. They’ll spend time fixing their vehicles so they can give chase. By the time they get around to doing that, you’ll be well on your way home.”

  He sounded like he knew what he was talking about. From what she’d seen when they’d brought her here, Thadiwe’s compound was surrounded by impenetrable jungle. The narrow dirt road had been heavily guarded when she’d been brought in. Elizabeth had no reason to presume that it was any different now. “How did you even manage to ge—” Get past the guards? Get into my room? Those were just the more immediate questions. She’d leave the biggies—like how he’d known where to find her—for later.

  He silenced her with two fingers pressed against her lips. She nodded. His fingers lingered a second or two, then withdrew.

  “Really, Sam, I think we should—”

  He took her hand unerringly in the dark. “I can’t wait to hear what you think. Later.” He led her across the small room to the window. She tugged at his hand, trying to turn him toward the door instead of the practically hermetically sealed window. “Bars.”

  She’d been examining them when the lights had gone out.

  “Not anymore.” A trace of amusement laced his quiet voice.

  She wasn’t sure which shocked her more, the satisfied laughter she heard in his voice, or the fact that he’d removed the entire window. She’d never seen Sam smile in all the months she’d known him. Not once. And he was the least likely handyman she’d ever met. But there’d been three strong, one-inch thick vertical metal bars on the small window, and also an insect screen bolted to the outside of the frame. She knew. She’d inspected every inch.

  She tried to imagine Sam yanking out the window…It didn’t compute. Yet somehow he’d done it, because as they approached the opening she could smell the fetid greenness of the jungle and feel the thick, hot, syrupy air against her skin. She shivered.

  “Insect repellent. Close your eyes,” he said before applying a liberal dose to her face, neck, and hands.

  She could’ve put the stuff on herself, but she enjoyed the sensation of Sam’s big hands running gently over her face and neck. “Thanks.” Mosquitoes could give one anything from an annoying bite to parasitic sleeping sickness. She was in enough trouble as it was.

  Taking her hand, Sam’s fingers tightened around hers, his hand cool and dry against her damp palm. “I’ll go first then help you down.”

  Bracing one hand against the wall to orientate herself, Elizabeth listened to the rustle of animals in the undergrowth and the
susurrus of leaves moving in their passage. To say that she didn’t want to venture into the jungle, in the dark, was an understatement.

  But it was the lesser of two evils. Still, she had the terrifying feeling that she was jumping from the frying pan into the fire.

  “Climb out,” Sam’s voice was pitched so low she felt rather than heard it. “I’ll catch you.”

  She didn’t need help climbing out of a window three feet off the ground. What she needed was—daylight. A tank that could cut a swath through jungle. A bazooka, or some other weapon that would—

  What she had was a teacher. Had Sam brought a gun with him? Did he even know how to use the damn thing if he had? But even if he did have a weapon, it wouldn’t be much help out here where the least dangerous animals were panthers, lions, and other carnivores. Thadiwe’s men were heavily armed, and more dangerous and determined than any of the denizens of the jungle.

  Thadiwe hadn’t gone to all that trouble to kidnap and transport her to give her up without a fight. He’d send his men after her the second he realized she was gone. Beth considered and reconsidered the rock and the hard place. Either or. If she went with Sam, she had no doubt whatsoever that they’d be caught. And Thadiwe’s retaliation would be swift and violent.

  The dangers of being recaptured would mean sure death. Not only for herself, but for Sam as well. And she was damned sure that Thadiwe would make their deaths slow and excruciatingly painful. If she stayed, there was a chance that Sam would return in time to prevent her death. Yet staying meant she’d be forced at gunpoint to perform a surgical procedure she wasn’t qualified to do. After which, she was pretty damn sure, they’d kill her anyway.

  Either way, the end result would mean her death.

  Damn it. She didn’t have the luxury of time to debate the pros and cons of how quickly she was going to die.