The black water gleamed like glass under the light of a partial moon. Huge trees, thick on each bank, straight and dark, loomed above the jungle floor. In the near distance, thunder rolled and lightning flashed pink behind a bank of clouds. South, Dana thought automatically, her feet carefully placed, picking her way up the slippery bank. A storm was coming up from South America.

As she walked, Ruckus nothing but a big, dusky shadow ahead of her, the sheer wall of jungle surrounding them, flanking them, hampering their movements seemed alive, a world unto itself, ancient, mysterious, primal. It seemed more of an entity than an ecosystem. The violence seeped into the ground, the sound of agonized cries absorbed into the leaves, bark, moss and very air around them. Something dark and twisted born from the hostility and the violence here, something with a mind and eyes and a dark, shadowed soul. That impression closed in on her, and she took deep breaths, thinking about her mother’s hushed voice singing a lullaby. Even as she lay dying in that hospital bed, it was her mom who had comforted her.

Squeezing her eyes closed, she breathed around her need to get those memory cards back. Her work had been consecrated with her mother’s suffering. Dana had missed seeing her one last time because she’d been half a world away reporting on the suffering of others. Those memory cards held the stories, but they weren’t just stories. They documented real people, real pain, real suffering, and…Dana’s throat tightened…real courage. It was a homage to her mom, and Dana’s terrible missed opportunity to say goodbye.

She was sure somewhere in the dark, somewhere close by, bodies lay, the violence not seen but felt, seeping into her like the cold, and she shivered and rubbed her hands over her arms as an image flashed through her head. Bodies lying out here, alone, dead, the jungle watching, knowing, keeping its secrets…

“Why the hell are you lagging?”

Ruckus’s voice snapped the terrible vision, and she jumped. When she didn’t immediately answer, he covered the short space between them. She shivered. “Dana?” He studied her. “Are you cold?” She nodded once. “It’s a mind-set, babe.”

“It’s a biological function, Rambo,” she countered angrily because sparring with him kept her aware and staying aware was keeping her alive.

“Fuck science. We keep moving. Get your head around that. Keep your goal in mind. Hector Salazar. He’s the bastard.”

She shivered unable to stop the involuntary action. “Damn,” he swore as the first drops of rain fell. Grumbling about women, jungles, rain and inconveniences, he pulled his pack from his back and with quick, efficient, irritated moves, he opened it and dug around inside. Finally he retrieved a waterproof poncho. Without saying anything, he rose and pulled it none to gently over her head. As the rain started to fall faster, he stared at her for a moment, the warm lights of concern in his eyes giving away what he was thinking. He cared about what happened to her, that was no surprise. He was a SEAL; they protected people, and it was part of their job. But it was his personal concern for her, not some nondescript HVT or noncombatant. Her heart jumped, then thundered in her chest. She hadn’t even liked him from the start, but how could she want him so damn bad if she didn’t at least feel something for him. Then he grabbed her arm, his grip firm but gentle. “Let’s move. We don’t have any time to play in the water puddles,” he growled.

They heard voices and Ruckus dragged her behind a huge tree. “I’ll be right back.” He disappeared, poof, like a magician and when he came back, he scared the living hell right out of her. She hadn’t heard a thing.

“Soon we’ll be motoring the rest of the way to Yaviza.”

“You still plan to steal one?”

“Yeah, there’s plenty of them hanging around, and I’d prefer not to waste ammo.”

“Waste ammo…” her breath backed up into her lungs. Then she heard a familiar voice and an idea formed. “What if I talked to them alone? Asked them for a boat. Then you wouldn’t have to steal it, and we wouldn’t have them pissed at us, too.” They were currently standing a safe distance away from a group of FARC. They had several boats on the shore of the river. Dana couldn’t tell if anything was in the boats, but she was certain that she could talk to the dark man dressed in a green shirt with a semi-automatic slung to his back.

“What if they decide you’re worth more than a boat?”

“Why would they do that? I have documentation that I’m free to move around the Gap. It comes from their leaders in Cuba. I recognize one of them. He helped us when we first arrived. I’m sure he’ll remember me.”

“I’m sure any guy with eyes would remember you,” he muttered. Dana wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or not. Then, he shook his head. “Do you think because he recognizes you, that’s going to stop them from taking you hostage and demanding a ransom from your family? Everything in this place is about money. You’ve seen it on your journey with those migrants. They don’t give a damn about human life. Everyone is expendable to keep those cocaine profits flowing. People here are robbed blind, made to be mules and stripped of everything they have. If they’re not murdered, they’re left destitute.”

That brought her up short. He was aware of what was going on here? She looked up at him and the dark canopy smothered all the ambient light so that his handsome face was nothing but a dark silhouette in the night. But she knew those features. Her fingers ached to trace that mouth and just simply stare into those blue eyes that sucked at her soul. They had differences, and he was bossy and pushy, grumpy and testy. But she saw something. It was like staring into the face of death. There was no looking away. She knew there was something lurking in his past that drove him as much as her past drove her. He wasn’t a one-sided, unemotional jerk at all. And that made her stomach jolt.

Not such an egocentric man as she first thought. Her estimation of him went up a notch. Which, in light of her physical attraction to him, wasn’t helping. “I’m not trusting blindly here. They have already helped me and my crew.”

He started to crowd her and before she knew it, her back came up against the rough trunk of a tree. The solid barrier behind her and a hard, muscled intense man in front of her. He pressed his hand to the bark and leaned forward getting all up into her personal space. Most likely a male tactic to intimidate. But Dana didn’t feel intimidated. She felt hot and bothered, achy and needy. His close proximity not having the desired affect at all.

“Listen, I understand where you’re coming from. One boat out of many won’t be that big a deal. But if they decide to extract money out of you or your family, then I’m dealing with you in a middle of a large number of armed men. Because, cupcake, I’m not leaving you behind. You’re coming with me, frosting and all. It’s a freaking risk.”

“A freaking, calculated risk. We already have the CLP after us. We don’t need the FARC, too. You’re trained to deal with armed men, and I’ve been in plenty of situations I’ve managed to talk myself out of. Look around. There are at least twenty of them. The boats are guarded, and the river is teeming with alligators.”

“You think it’s the armed men I’m worried about.” His voice sent shivers down her spine. “When the bullets start flying, the only bodies that will be hitting the ground will be theirs.”

Her eyes drifted closed and she took a soft breath. Somehow, that was not a very comforting thought that one man could deliver so much violence, especially when he uttered his comment in such a stone-cold tone of voice. She got it. SEALs were take charge guys and most likely didn’t like to be second guessed. Standing there, boxing her in with his big body, the view blocked by those shoulders and that chest drove it home to her that he was large and wanted to be in charge.

He was definitely built. Dirty and sweaty, scruffy stubble along his jaw, but as of right now he was The Great Wall of China, and she wasn’t going through him or around him. Not even a horde of Huns could breach those fortifications.

“We’ll wait until nightfall and—”

She took another breath. “Look, Rambo. I—”

“It’s Ruckus,” he said through gritted teeth.

“I might call you something else if I knew your real name,” she hissed, her voice low. He shook his head. “You know mine,” she insisted.

“I wish I didn’t.”

That stung a bit, and he’d said it like he’d rather be anywhere than here with her. Which, if she had her preference, would be anywhere other than here, too. He was six feet, two inches of an immovable object and unless she talked Mr. You Don’t Need to Know My Real Name into letting her have a go at getting a boat, it wasn’t happening. For better or worse they were partners in this odyssey to find Salazar. Her determination was as deep and immovable as his.

The FARC were organized, had an uneasy relationship with the clan, but it was still peaceful between them. It would only get ugly if territory was going to be in dispute. The area in question would be the drug routes. Dana was aware that Salazar was going to expand, and he was going to do it either by negotiation or by blood. He made that clear in his interview.

She was just about to agree to do it his way when someone called out in Spanish. “Who’s there? Show yourself!”

Ruckus backed up and grabbed his weapon. She pantomimed with her thumb, and his mouth tightened but he gave her a curt nod. Dana called out, “Captain Escobar? Is that you?”

He gave her a fierce look, his eyes shooting daggers and backed up. She mouthed she was sorry and his eyes narrowed. There was no way they could run, and if keeping Ruckus a secret was imperative, then she would have to brazen this out. It wasn’t optimal, but she was sure she could get the boat, pull over to shore and get him aboard. Then they could be on their way to Yaviza.

She had no illusions it would be smooth sailing all the way. She’d have more battles with this man before they parted company. He hadn’t budged, but was still concealed from the man with the mean looking rifle pointed directly at her. He literally melted into nothing, and she took a hard breath.

She came out from behind the tree, her hands up. She knew the drill. The shadows were deepening across the jungle, melding into one darkness, the veil of night spreading from the horizon. Sure the air was blue behind her from the quiet swearing her navy SEAL was doing in his head, she took a step toward the man who held a rifle to his shoulder.

“Escobar!” The man shouted, the sound of it carrying to the water and the boats. His dark, intense eyes never left her. She didn’t recognize him and he wasn’t dressed like the FARC, an uneasiness crawled across her skin.

The swarthy Cuban materialized through the trees and his face split into a wide, white grin. “Ms. Sorenson. What happened? Did you get lost? We put you in a boat, and it was a straight ride up the river.”

“No, but I’m in a bind.”

The man who was covering her didn’t immediately lower his weapon, but Captain Escobar touched the barrel of the gun and the rebel dropped it to his side.

“Let us talk someplace more comfortable.” Holding out his hand, she took it and he drew her out of the jungle into a small clearing. She had no idea where Ruckus was, but she was confident he was close, watching. That made her feel safer.

There were a few tents and remnants of a meal. He led her to a small backless folding chair not far from the boats. She glanced at them in the deepening gloom, but still couldn’t see inside any of them.

“Have you eaten?”

“No.” He waved his hand and someone dished up a plate of stew. It smelled delicious, and she felt guilty enjoying this fare while Ruckus was probably hungry as hell. MREs couldn’t hold a candle to real food.

She scooped some into her mouth and made a soft sound. His glittering black eyes matched his hair and the uneasiness spread as he watched her eat. He’d set his weapon against the side of the tent, but still had a sidearm at his hip. He broke off a hunk of bread and gave it to her. Someone handed her a cup of hot, dark coffee.

“Now, tell me, what has happened to you? Where is your crew?” She sipped and the flavor of the rich beans exploded on her tongue.

“There was a terrible storm, and we got separated. I’ve been wandering and am sure glad I found you.”

He nodded. She polished off the last of her dinner and popped the remaining bite of bread in her mouth. She glanced at the boats again, and he didn’t miss the look.

“I would be so ever grateful if you could…lend me a boat so that I could get to Yaviza. I’m sure my crew is very worried about me.”

“I’m afraid that would be out of the question,” he said in a quiet, flat tone. Her stomach dropped, and her heart stalled. He smiled, then said, “I couldn’t possibly let a beautiful, lone woman, one who is under FARC’s protection go on such a journey on her own. You will stay here tonight, and we’ll get a start in the morning.”

“Oh, no. I couldn’t impose on you to take me that far. I’m sure I can make my way there. I’m very capable.” She rose and wiped her hands on her pants. Backing up toward the boats, she gave him a smile. He didn’t return it this time, and a finger of fear went down her spine. Something was different here, something that she couldn’t quite grasp.

He rose as she turned and walked toward the boats at a quick pace. Her gasp was audible in the quiet of the jungle. Bodies. Several in the water, more on the bank. FARC uniforms. Her breathing accelerated to labored gasps as she closed her eyes. That’s what was different. Escobar wasn’t wearing a uniform anymore.

Ruckus had been right, and she should have listened to him. This place had no rules. None whatsoever, no decency, no quarter, no mercy. She was in serious trouble.

He grasped her shoulder. “I’m afraid there’s been a change of plans,” he said as she looked from the boats to the bodies. Each of the pirogues were filled with crates and she had no doubt about what was in them. Cocaine.

But that’s not what chilled her to the bone. She hadn’t considered one way Salazar would fill his ranks. Bribery.

“I’m no longer with FARC. You see, their power is waning and Salazar pays much better. And word is he wants you, Dana. Where’s the man you escaped with?” He used her first name as if they were familiar, intimate. She whirled and stepped back. The rush of alarm was so intense that for an instant she thought her heart would stop altogether.

“He’s dead,” she said, keeping her focus on Escobar and off the jungle behind him. She didn’t have to feign fear. The images of the dead faces burned into her eyes.

His hand slipped down her arm, her heart jammed into her ribs, hammering frantically as fear churned through her. “He said he wanted you alive, but he didn’t say in what shape,” he murmured.

In that moment, she realized there were worse things than death. Much worse. He grabbed her around the waist, grinding his pelvis against hers, the bulge there requiring no explanation what he was going to take from her, panic and revulsion compressing her lungs. With a wave of anger surging through her, she desperately shoved at his chest, bringing up her knee which glanced off his thigh, but she did some damage. He grunted in pain, and then backhanded her across the face.

Pain exploding in her cheek, she reeled away, but he was on her again and she heard some of the men in the compound laugh. Oh, God. He was going to do it right here. Out in the open. She could taste blood in her mouth. Dazed, she tried to push him off her again when he abruptly froze as something wet and sticky splattered all over her.

Escobar collapsed and she had enough presence of mind to realize that Ruckus had made his move. All around the camp, men where reaching for their weapons. Dana dropped and took cover around the back of one of the canoes. She could hear the constant retort of the suppressed automatic he carried.

There were sounds of running feet, grunts of pain, shouting, then, everything was quiet. Shaking like crazy, she looked over the edge of the boat and saw him. He strode through the bodies littering the ground, calmly using his sidearm and putting a headshot into each one of them. Each time the gun went off, she flinched at the sound the barrel should have made, but instead with the suppression, it was just audible.

Armed conflict wasn’t new to her, she’d seen plenty in her days working as a freelance correspondent with some killings even more brutal than what she’d just seen. She’d been in danger and seen people die, but she’d never been the target of any attack. She’d only reported it. She wasn’t stupid. She knew what a SEAL did, that they were trained to outgun, outthink, outrun, and outdo anyone or anything. But seeing Ruckus in action with a steadiness that unnerved her all the way down to the pit of her stomach made her mind just simply cut off and drift. Feeling a bit dazed, he brought his gaze to hers. She saw his mouth move, saw his short nod, and then he sent her a message loud and clear. I got you.

Boy, did he ever.

Dazed and still shaking in the aftermath of her adrenaline rush, she pressed her back against the rough boat and took shallow breaths. She had been so wrong here. Granted she’d decided his plan was a better one, but caught out in the jungle, there was nowhere for her to go without being hunted again. She also couldn’t blow his cover. Now, even though this had all happened, she was sure glad she hadn’t.

Escobar had defected to the CLP, and Salazar knew she was gone. He had a ransom on her head and she had to wonder if she’d even be safe in the US. She was guessing the answer to that question was a resounding, no.

“We’re getting out of here,” he growled. She hadn’t known him long, but there was one thing she knew about this man. He was often scowling. That wasn’t the case now. Now? He was furious, and it struck her deep in her core. Then it was as if he got a good look at her and he grabbed her arm. “Are you hurt?” His voice was low, hard and it scared her almost as much as the look on his face.

It was as if she couldn’t speak. She was so tied up in knots. He gave her a quick shake, looking like he wanted to shake her harder, looking like he wanted to say more, looking like he wanted to break something.

It wouldn’t be her. She was made of stronger stuff.

“Are you hurt, Dana?” he asked, and the sound of her name on his lips made everything in her just twirl even harder. She shook her head.

He gave her a quick visual and ran his hands over her body. Now her breath was trapped. He started chucking crates out of the closest canoe, and one of them broke, spilling kilos of white powder on the ground. He didn’t even bother to look. Then he picked her up and set her into the boat and pushed it off, jumping inside. He grabbed a paddle and started propelling them into the center of the fast-moving river. He started the motor and guided them along.

After a few moments, he reached into his tech vest and pulled out a packet, then ripped it with his teeth. It was one of the moist towelettes that had come with their MREs. He started wiping gently at her face. At first, it didn’t register, then she realized. Blood spatter from Escobar.

“I’m sorry.” He didn’t say anything, just kept cleaning her face. She grabbed his wrist and he looked at her. “I was going to go with your suggestion and then that guy busted up that plan.”

A muscle jerked in his jaw, his hot gaze drilling into her. “Next time, no discussion. We do it my way.”

Agreed. We do it your way.”

It was as if those few words uncorked his temper, and anger flared in his eyes, the muscles of his neck suddenly taut. “This isn’t a damn committee, cupcake. I lead, you follow. Clear?”

“Yes, dammit. Clear. You’ve got the muscle and the guns. I’m along for the ride.” She bit her lip. “Can I say that I’m supremely glad that you saved me, a badass with mad warrior skills is exactly what I needed.”

“If you let go of my wrist. I’ll take care of the rest of this.”

She heaved a sigh. His skin was so warm beneath her palm. She didn’t’ want to let go of him. He was solid, and the incident with Escobar was still fresh. She was probably in shock. She drew in a slow deep breath, tamping down her emotions, drawing up some strength, focusing on how her mother would have handled this. She had always been so strong, up until the end.

Grief hit her hard, but she muscled it back. She had missed being there for her mom because she was off on an assignment. She had missed hugging her mom one last time, telling her she loved her. She regretted it every moment of every day.

She let go of him and he cleaned the rest of her face, moving down to her neck. Dana wished she could get in a shower and scrub herself clean. She could still taste her own blood and smell the metallic scent of Escobar’s all over her.

He motored on and she anxiously watched the water behind them for any signs of pursuit. Finally, as the night deepened, he steered the boat to shore, pulling it up on the bank and covering it in brush. The night was comfortably warm, fragrant with the scent of some kind of wild flower. She spied some white flowers in among the dark green leaves. For a moment, she could almost make believe she was home in San Diego with the bougainvillea vines climbing up the side of her house in the back, reclining in her comfortable lounge chair with a cool drink in her hand. But in the morning, the humidity would return with the sun like a wet woolen blanket.

He touched her shoulder, and she flinched, jumping. “Why don’t you change?” he suggested, low and strained. “Then we’ll get some sleep.”

The remembered feel of Escobar’s hands and his body made her skin crawl. She pulled off her pack and dug inside for a clean shirt. She unbuttoned the one she had on and threw it on the ground. She would never wear it again. Pulling the fresh one over her head, enjoying the feel of the cool, dry fabric as it settled against her sticky skin.

She wrapped her arms around herself, trying with all her might to calm her racing heart. Much as she hated to admit it, she was feeling weak. She loathed feeling powerless. Coming unhinged out here wouldn’t be good for her or for her escort. He looked worried.

“Here, let me show you something simple.” She stared at him and nodded, the compassionate look in his eyes making her insides go a little liquid. “Grab my thumb and bend it back.” When she did, he went to his knees. “Leaves me vulnerable. Now’s the time for that kick to the balls.”

She let go of him and stepped back. He bent down and retrieved her shirt, but instead of saying anything, his gaze narrowed and the angle of his jaw hardened. He just dug a hole and buried it without comment.