of the terrorists who held Sister Mary Katherine. If Cuban officials caught him during his rescue attempt of the nun, Garrett couldn’t be sure that Kinkaid wouldn’t drag him or the Sentinels into his mess.
And even though a rogue mercenary in league with drug cartels would make a handy scapegoat if things turned ugly, the same couldn’t be said for Alexa’s involvement. If she were taken prisoner with Kinkaid, Garrett would have explaining to do. And disavowing the operation could get complicated unless he found a way to exploit it.
But Garrett had confidence in his ability to manipulate the situation in his favor. With finesse, Alexa could serve as his pawn, and Kinkaid would make a convenient sacrificial lamb. His actions would be completely justified if he protected the interests of the Sentinels.
“Dig up everything you have on Sayed,” he said to Tanya. “With Alexa still on the ground in Cuba, maybe we can spin this to our advantage. I’ve got an idea.”
Southeast Cuba
Alexa worked under the pale light of the moon. Kneeling beside Kinkaid, she had bandaged the bullet graze on his arm and was now putting a fresh dressing on his belly wound. Kinkaid had stretched out on his sleeping bag with his shirt off, wearing only his BDU camo pants and boots. His chest glistened in the sweltering heat, and his skin was warm to the touch. She had no doubt his fever had returned. Lying on his back, he was propped on his elbows and stared into the darkness. When he tried to pretend she wasn’t there, she reminded him with a move Florence Nightingale wouldn’t have approved. It made him wince.
She hated being ignored.
Kinkaid hadn’t said much since she forced him to take her along on his mission to save Kate. They trekked into the hills and found good cover against a rock face surrounded by trees and a trickling stream nearby. Muggy heat closed in, and the bugs had no respect for their fatigue. They’d continue their search for Kate after they got a few hours to sleep.
On the surface, Kinkaid would have appeared angry and sullen, but she knew exhaustion fueled his distant mood. And his unrelenting fever hadn’t helped.
“I’m taking first watch. No arguments,” she whispered, having no intention of waking him to spell her. The guy needed sleep. “When was the last time you took your meds?”
“I’m good,” he said. When she was done playing nurse, he lay back and stared into the night sky with an arm under his head. “And…thanks.”
Instead of rolling over and going to sleep, he turned toward her, and she caught a glint of light in those green eyes of his. Jackson Kinkaid always had an effect on her, but in the dead calm of night, his low voice and quiet gentle ways made her forget the usual rift between them. It made her wish that they’d never met on the job. Things might have turned out differently if they had been introduced in a less complicated way, as just a man and woman.
“You didn’t have to come with me,” he began. When things got personal, men often chose a convoluted way to say what they really meant. Kinkaid was no different.
“You’re welcome.” She forced a weary grin and stretched out next to him on her sleeping bag. Braced on an elbow, she looked down at him. “You could barely stand, hotshot. I’m just returning the favor.”
She pretended to adjust his arm bandage, wanting an excuse to touch him. “You got those hostages out on your own,” she added. “Very impressive.”
“I thought you were long gone,” he said. “Or maybe you were watching to see if I got my ass kicked.”
She saw him flinch with a smile. With Kinkaid it was hard to detect the difference between amusement and outright hostility.
“Depending on who was doing the kicking”—she grinned—“I might pay top dollar for a ringside seat.” She told him about the tracking beacon that she’d stowed in his gear.
“You stuck a tracking beacon on me?”
“Yeah. I wanted you easy to find for a rescue mission after we got the hostages,” she admitted. “It’s still in your gear. In the bag where you stow your iPod. I figured you’d never leave that behind. The beacon made it easy to find Waldo.”
Kinkaid only shook his head, and they fell into a comfortable silence. Since the mission had started, they had not been alone much to talk. She felt the distance between them, but the rescue was the main objective, and she’d let it go. Now they had a quiet moment together, and she didn’t want to waste it—even if she ticked him off.
“What happened to you?” she asked.
The sudden shift in topic took him by surprise as she had hoped. His faint amusement was gone, replaced by definite hostility. In truth, his shift in gears turned her on. He had an edge that scared her—and she liked it.
“Rumor has it that you work for South American drug cartels. You go wherever the money is best. When we worked together before…”
“That was a long time ago, Alexa. Ancient history.” He narrowed his eyes and pulled the boonie hat off her head and ran his fingers through her hair. If he was trying to distract her, the man had hit the bull’s-eye dead center.
“We all have choices in how we live our lives. I thought you were one of the good guys.” She reached for his hand and stopped him from toying with her hair. Taking his hand in both of hers, she entwined her fingers with his. “Working for the highest bidder doesn’t strike me as your kind of gig, especially drug cartels, Jackson. That’s why I gotta know. What happened to you? What made you change?”
“Whatever you think you know…you don’t.” He stared into the dark and heaved a deep sigh. “It’s complicated. And I’m working things out…my way.”
“It’s just that I’m worried…”
“I know you are,” he interrupted. “I can see that, but let it go.”
Kinkaid had changed. She saw it in everything he did. He’d lost the peaks to his valleys and was content to drift through life like a ghost, unfettered by real emotion…even joy. She rested her hand on his arm. The intimacy felt natural between them, and he didn’t object. The feel of his hard muscles brought a new rush of heat to her cheeks. And when he fixed a languid gaze on her, she forgot to breathe. Heat radiated off his skin, and she felt a primal urgency take hold. From the hunger in his eyes, she knew he had the same urges.
She didn’t have to wait to find out.
He trailed a finger down her cheek and neck. And with his touch, she closed her eyes, and a suggestive gasp escaped her lips. Grasping the back of her neck, he pulled her to his chest and explored her mouth with his warm, wet tongue. Her nipples reacted to the feel of his hard body through her damp T-shirt. She straddled his leg and felt the rush of desire as adrenaline surged through her.
She knew this was wrong. This wasn’t the time or the place to give in to the craving she felt for Kinkaid, but her tongue had a mind of its own. She pictured unzipping him and taking what she wanted. His low groans of breathy intimacy sent a message that he wouldn’t protest.
But a second later, they both stopped and locked gazes as if they were reading each other’s minds.
“Wait a minute,” she gasped.
“We can’t do this,” he said in unison.
“I said it first.” She brushed back her blond hair and rolled off his chest. It took a moment for her to regain control.
What had happened with Kinkaid left her stumped. She understood the physical need, and the chemistry had always been there between them, but his feelings for Kate confused her. It was obvious he had strong feelings for the woman, enough to risk his life for her. Yet he’d just kissed another woman as if he meant it. His sudden display of sexual need made her wonder. Was Kate the real deal for him, relegating her to play the role of a handy “friend with benefits”?
And since when did
She understood the need for a man to release sexual tension, and normally she’d be happy to oblige, but being around Kinkaid on this mission had messed her up, and she wasn’t sure why. Maybe it had started when she questioned her motives for wanting to play “tonsil hockey” with Seth Harper.
“I have to ask you something.” She fought to steady her breathing. “Don’t shoot me, okay?”
