She realized this SEAL was being cautious, and she couldn’t blame him for that. It was that she was sick of being ordered around and terrified. Yeah, that had gotten old five minutes after that hood had been jammed over her head.

“Where is Salazar?”

“He’s gone.”

“Where?”

“I’m not telling you until I see my friends and get my memory cards.” She didn’t have much to bargain with, and she figured this was going to get her in trouble, but that was nothing new when going after a story. She wasn’t leaving this jungle without those cards. They had gone through a lot to get that footage, but it was more than that…her mom’s irreplaceable interview. Dana’s promise was all tied up in those cards. She wasn’t budging on this. The only memory cards that Salazar had let her hold onto were his interview. One that wasn’t finished. But he had other plans and had left about a day ago on urgent business.

The SEAL just gestured with that wicked semi-automatic, looking every inch the badass. His features were hard to make out under that camo paint, with his weapon against his cheek, but those blue eyes of his were steely beneath his dark, frowning brows, and his voice meant business.

She grabbed the comb and pulled it through her hair, quickly braiding it and wrapping an elastic around the end. She threw it behind her when she was done. Then she put everything inside her pack and swung it to her back.

“I’m ready to go. But, I’ll need to actually walk to get out of this room.”

Those hard eyes never even softened. “After you,” he said, his voice both deep and menacing.

She hadn’t been allowed out of here since she’d tried to escape when Hector Salazar gave her access to the patio. In addition to being an egomaniac, Salazar was a letch. The way he watched her made her skin crawl, but he hadn’t touched her. She figured he wanted his interview bad enough that he was willing to wait. She had no illusions that once he got what he wanted, he would take what he had been promising with his dark, glittering eyes.

Talk about feeling powerless and scared, but now with this man at her back, intimidating as hell, she was feeling a lot better, safer.

When she went down the stairs, she saw Liam and James had been liberated from the basement and were in the hall. Liam was propped against the wall and James was prone. She rushed the rest of the way and went to her knees. When she softly touched Liam’s face, he opened his eyes, his dazed look made her gut twist. His eyes were tormented, bruises visible on his chin and temple, blood encrusted ligature marks around his wrists and ankles, his lips cracked with healing sores, a sure sign of dehydration. That bastard had told her they were being treated like kings. The lying scum! She had pleaded with Salazar daily to let her crew go, but he wanted them held to make her do as she was told, and it had worked.

“Oh God, Liam. It‘s so good to see you.” She hugged him and he gently patted her back. There was a bottle in his hand. One of them had gotten him water.

“I’m hanging in there, boss. But James. He tried to fight them. They hit him in the head. He hasn’t woken up.”

She moved to James, and saw that there was a dressing on his forehead, his skin was pale, his body showing the same kind of mistreatment as Liam. One of the SEALs crouched down. His slate gray eyes were calm and direct, his features arresting with a strong jaw and fine full lips. “He’s in a coma.” Those confident, thick, golden lashed eyes held hers for a considerably long moment. “I couldn’t rouse him. We’ll get him medical attention as soon as we get you out of here.”

Her mouth tightened as her heart caught. She reached out and clasped his forearm. “Coma?” She looked down at James. He really didn’t have any family, but she vowed she would make sure he was taken care of. Liam was the one with a wife and child. All this made her feel even worse. Of course, they knew the risks when he agreed to come with her, but that didn’t help one bit. Salazar was an animal. “Thank you for taking care of him...”

“Blue, ma’am.”

“Blue, thank you.”

She looked up at the hulking bodies, covered in camouflage, bristling with weapons and was so damn thankful they’d found them. The tallest of them, at least six five, the one with a pair of thick sultry lips had the most intense gaze she’d ever seen, and a face made up of angles instead of curves. Hard-edged. Handsome wasn’t the right word for him, but striking fit him to a T.

“This is taking too dang long,” he said, his speech slow with a Texas twang. “LT, we need to get them out of here pronto.”

“Copy that,” Blue said.

She looked over her shoulder and at their “LT.” She suspected the moniker was a nickname for lieutenant. He nodded, his eyes losing some of that edge, replaced by anger as he looked to her crew. Maybe he was just being cautious. It was true he didn’t know her and she knew from experience people in desperate situations lied all the time.

The one who had busted into her room, the one called Kid stood looking out the front door.” He nodded. “It’s up to LT, Cowboy,” Kid said. He looked like a kid, not more than his early twenties, but he was tall and well built, looked barely old enough to shave—let alone carry the assault weapon in his hands, a lethal looking rifle on his back and a pistol in a holster at his hip.

Sniper, she thought, the word easily describing him. That’s what he was in this group. Point man, the lead guy who gathered intel, sniffed out trouble, and took care of that trouble with the business end of his rifle.

Kid looked at the SEAL across from him. “Tank, man, it’s too quiet out there,” he murmured.

Tank, his vigilance surrounding him like an aura, was built like a tank with impossibly broad shoulders, a black beard, and a pair of intent cinnamon brown eyes. They were constantly on the move as he surveyed the grounds. The dog next to him was beautiful and just as alert as the SEAL. He had a fawn coat and a black mask across his eyes and covering his muzzle. Highly intelligent brown eyes surveyed the grounds.

The titan with a computer to her right looked over at the one they called LT, Mister Charming, who refused to even turn around so she could get dressed. She’d never felt so self-conscious in her life. Putting on her unmentionables with a deadly weapon pointed at her was a new experience.

“Ruckus, we’re going to have company soon,” he said, his voice cultured and so Southern sweet it gave her a toothache. It spoke of the Deep South with lush bayou and long, hot summers. But was incongruous with all those angles and toughness.

Ruckus? That said it all. He looked like he could cause a few altercations and not just because of his crazy military skills. Those eyes hadn’t been all business. Especially after she’d turned around and saw the way he was looking at her. Unlike Salazar, it made everything in her tingle.

“Copy that, Scarecrow. Up, lady. Let’s get your stuff and get moving. The sooner we get your memory cards, the sooner we can bug out of here.”

The SEALs all exploded into motion. Blue, the one with the slate gray eyes, the medic, grabbed James and muscled him across his shoulders in a fireman’s carry. He rose in one fluid motion while Cowboy picked up Liam and situated him the same way. “You guys start for the LZ. We’re right behind you,” Ruckus growled.

“Dana,” Liam called, concern in his weakened voice.

She gave her friends one more look and said to Liam, “We’re getting out of here. I’ll be fine,” she assured him. Then she hurried to the study. Once inside she went behind Salazar’s desk and crouched down. Removing the floor panel, she made room for the SEAL to see it. “Back up,” he barked. Orders seemed to be the extent of his communication skills.

Keeping his eyes on her, he used one hand to take something gray and putty-like from his vest and attach it to the safe. Then he was up, crowding her away from the safe towards the balcony doors. “I’m blowing the safe. When I do, we’re going to have company. Keep moving,” he said into the mic.

When a small explosion detonated, the desk rattled, a puff of smoke and some fire erupted. He moved swiftly to the safe.

“Copy that,” he said grimly. He was obviously talking through his throat mic to his now departing men.

She knelt down and reached into the safe, grabbing a bundle of credentials and then frantically rooted around. “They’re not here,” she said, her throat getting thick, her chest filling with frustration. “He took them to make sure I followed through. That scum!”

“We’ve got company, and we’re now cut off from our escape route,” Ruckus growled.

He rose and grabbed her arm and propelled her to the balcony doors. “No, you keep going. Get those wounded men to the LZ.” He none to gently hustled her through the doors. “Don’t argue with me, Kid. That’s a fucking order.” At the railing, she could hear automatic gunfire from the front of the house. He pulled her to the stairs and they rushed down them so fast, she almost stumbled. He dragged her behind him and before she could even breathe, his gun bucked in his hands. It was loud, louder than she could ever have imagined. Bullets whizzed past. She swore she could feel the heat of one zoom by her cheek.

Suddenly, he turned and pulled her with him. “Run and don’t stop until I tell you to.”

* * *

Kid ran with his teammates as automatic gunfire sounded behind them. They were cut off from their leader and that pissed him off. There was no way they were leaving him or the babe behind.

“Cowboy.”

“Move, Kid. No time for debate.”

“But Ruckus and the reporter.”

“He can take care of himself. We have our marching orders. Now move!”

“Kid didn’t budge. Technically Cowboy outranked him, but he didn’t give a damn. “I’m going to lay down some cover. I’ll meet you at the chopper.”

“Goddammit, Kid. Ruckus will have your head,” Cowboy roared to Kid’s retreating back.

“I’m going to make sure he has that opportunity,” he threw over his shoulder. Kid hooked the strap of his M4 across his chest, pulling the TAC-338 rifle from his back. On the run, he opened his bipod support at the stock of the weapon.

It was child’s play to take up a concealed position. He’d already scoped it out as they were moving toward the stronghold. Kid was a master at it whether he was taking enemy fire or he was inserting himself just feet from his targets. He went flat on a small rise above the compound, the bipod keeping the muzzle off the ground. He saw Ruckus and the woman bolt out the back, a solid wall of CLP between them and the LZ, a locked gate and guards in front of them.

He set the stock against his cheek and hugged the earth. Sighting into his scope, he started shooting between heartbeats and breaths to reduce his body movement and give him a more accurate aim, picking them off as he went, going for body shots, letting hydrostatic shock do his work for him. The high velocity round caused damage with the actual penetration, but the shockwave of the round was enough to rupture internal organs and fracture bone.

His suppressive fire gave LT and the babe a fighting chance, caused chaos, and even more disorganization. He thought briefly of his dad, in this same situation, the odds stacked against him. If he’d had someone covering his back when he’d been killed in action, Kid wouldn’t have grown up without him.

Kid’s blood went cold as he saw the fortified gate. There was no way to blow—an explosion rocked the compound, the concussion killing the men around the area and blowing the gate to smithereens. Kid turned to look up. Hollywood was dropping the bazooka from his shoulder grinning and said, “Hoo-yah. Let’s bug out, Chaos, my man.”

With Kid’s job done, he grabbed the hand Hollywood offered him. Keeping low, they melted into the jungle.

This was only phase one of his plan. There was no way he was leaving Ruckus out there with a civilian.

No way in hell.

He made the LZ just as the chopper was landing. Blue and Cowboy set Dana’s two injured crew members inside. Cowboy looked back.

“Ah, you were worried about me,” Kid said.

“Get in the damn, chopper, both of you,” he said, but it was clear he was relieved to see them. They piled into the chopper, Blue giving Liam additional medical assistance; Scarecrow cradled James Quinn’s head in his lap so he wouldn’t be lying unconscious on the floor. Buffeted by columns of warm air rising out of the jungle, the chopper motored over a low ridge, signaling the entrance to a dense Valley, an endless span of green, extending into the cloud-covered peaks of a mountain range.

Ruckus and the pretty reporter were down there running for their lives. But if he had to place odds on who was going to come out of it alive, it would be his LT hands down.

Cowboy set a hand on his shoulder and Kid turned to him. “As soon as we land, drop these guys off, we’re going back.”

“You calling the shots, now?”

Kid grinned. His and Hollywood’s actions had not only saved the babe’s and their leader’s lives, but had given Kid a pure adrenaline rush.

* * *

When men started dropping around them, Dana realized they were getting “backup” from Ruckus’s team. Her stomach had clenched, her heart racing when she’d spied the gate they were rushing toward. Armed men were firing back. They had been boxed in, the gate locked, then the explosion, a snap of fire, then a starburst of orange flame had ripped through the night, debris flying everywhere, bodies littering the area.

Ruckus said, “Hoo-yah, that’s the way to do it, guys.” Another explosion rocked the ground behind them, shouts of pain and thuds, followed by kicked up rocks and dirt raining down on them. Then there was nothing but the disjointed view of plants and brush, running into the deep foliage and harsh breathing.

Hers.

She had to control her panic, this kind of breathing would only cause her to pass out. She was a runner. She knew how to run and regulate her breaths. They wended through the trees as the sound of crashing bodies spurred her even faster.

He turned to fire several times, gunfire arcing across the perimeter, and she heard cries of pain. He was so impressive the way he worked his weapon and kept moving on those long legs, pulling her with him and then pausing long enough to toss her unceremoniously over his shoulder. Then he was off again, running hard, each jolt punching air out of her lungs. When she looked up, through the trees, she saw Salazar’s Los Piratas. God, she didn’t want to be caught again.

For a big man, he was agile, leaping over broken logs, barreling through brush. He waded into water, strode across like he was on ice. When he hit shore, he made the incline of the bank without effort. Suddenly he whisked her off his shoulder, and when her feet hit the ground, he steadied her with a steely arm around her waist. He pushed her against the trunk of a tree, and her back slammed against the bark. He pressed his body against hers, completely immobilizing her. Completely shielding her, protecting her from the men after them. Her heart lurched.

Adrenaline washed into her veins on a river of stark, icy fear.

She went to speak, but a powerful hand clamped over her mouth. “Don’t say a word.” His voice was soft and gravelly, and very close to her ear, his breath blowing across her skin as he spoke. “We’re going up.”

She managed a sharp nod.

“Good. Now take a breath. I’ll boost you. Don’t move once you get in the branches.” He spoke so quietly, she had to strain to hear him. She had to focus on him, focus on his breathing and slow down her own.

It wasn’t going to happen. Not as long as her heart was racing, totally at odds with the steady beat of his. She felt him against her chest. He wasn’t crushing or hurting her. It was very effective, what he was doing, and made her diligently attended self-defense classes moot. He had immobilized her in one second flat. She felt engulfed between him and the tree.

His body was warm, very hard against hers, and if she wasn’t mistaken, the cool, steely ridge she felt against her hip was a handgun. The imprint of it had slowly registered over the last few seconds, and now she was sure this man was doubly armed and dangerous.

He turned her, manhandled her body as he boosted her up to the lowest branch. She grabbed onto the thick, leafy lifeline and thanked all those free weights at the gym for the arm strength to pull herself up the rest of the way, his hands giving her a base to push from. Climbing higher to give him room, she watched in awe as he simply nudged his gun to his back and crouched. With an explosive jump, gear, pack and all two hundred pounds of man, he latched onto the branch and almost seemingly without effort chin-upped his way onto the branch.

He settled next to her and with his thumb, motioned for her to climb higher. She did and he followed until they were nestled in the crotch of a huge branch.

He pulled her close to him, and she didn’t protest. He was all that stood between her and those men out there. She had no idea if they wanted her back, but Salazar had been adamant that she was to be treated carefully and kept alive. She was his conduit to the media.

But they would kill Ruckus. There was no doubt in her mind.

He was close, and she was so scared it took a couple of seconds for his face to register. When it did, she couldn’t quite catch her breath and it had nothing to do with the men down below looking for them. Deep set blue I-mean-business eyes beneath sable lashes and the straight dark line of his eyebrows all formed drop-dead gorgeous features. He had to be in his mid-thirties, the lines of his face more defined around the eyes and mouth. His gaze was down toward the ground, but she kept hers on him. His shoulders were very broad, tapering down to a slim waist, so many things on the vest he wore across his wide chest.

His gaze rose to meet her clearly assessing one. The slight lift of his eyebrows seemed confrontational until the slow slide of his gaze over her face and the brief moment it spent focused on her mouth made her reassess that look. A shiver went down her spine at the clear and present danger this man presented.

He was trouble in the man department that was for sure. The kind of guy who took and demanded. An alpha. She’d come into contact with plenty of them when she’d been a war correspondent. The military was full of them. And special operators, they were eat-you-for-lunch alpha.

Then he looked down, the intense look on his face had her dropping her eyes. Between the wide branches of the tree, she saw enough to make her heart slam back up into overdrive.

Men were walking slowly through the brush, moving silently through the shadows. His hand went over her mouth a split second before she involuntarily gasped. He was totally focused on the men. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of her face, and her knees started to tremble. The air was filled once again with something terrible, a portent of violence that she didn’t want any part of. If they looked up, could they make them out in the dark?

Every muscle in Ruckus’s body was taut, ready. He leveled his weapon and aimed it down. Dana got a sick feeling in her stomach.

There was ferocity in every line of his body and the strength of him, the readiness of him turned her on.

The idea slid through her like a jolt of electricity. She was not going to get involved with him—if the opportunity even presented itself. Where had that crazy thought come from? She didn’t know a thing about him, except he was the complete opposite of everything she had ever known. A warrior. The real thing, a soldier who put his life on the line for people he didn’t know, served his country and kept her and what she so dearly loved safe.

And, there was Jeffrey. Of course, there was Jeffrey. She’d been with him for a year. Okay, so most of that year she’d been traveling. Ruckus finally released her mouth, but put his finger to his lips. Salazar’s men had passed underneath them and were now moving off into the distance.

But he wouldn’t let her move or talk, and she was just fine with that. Finally, he said in a low tone, “They’ve moved off. Where are you guys?”

He listened intently. “Are the choppers there?” Nodding, he said, “I’ll be fine. I’ll get the information I need and check in. Get out of here for now. I’ll be in touch.”

Then he looked at her. “Time to move, honey.”

“I’m not your honey,” she whispered as she disengaged her legs and gave him a caustic look. There was no way he was going to ditch her, and if he did, she knew exactly where Salazar had gone. She was going to get her memory cards back come hell, high water or Ruckus.

She gingerly made her way to the lowest branch of the tree. “Wait here,” he ordered, then grabbed the branch and swung down to the ground with surprisingly little sound.

He gestured up to her. “Jump down. I’ll catch you.”

“I can make it.”

“And twist an ankle in the process. No. Jump.”

“Did anyone ever tell you you’re a bossy jerk?”

He stared up at her as if he could burn holes into wood with that laser glare. “They can’t. They have to follow my orders.”

“Right. You’re GI Joes.”

“We’re SEALs, Dana. Not army.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry I insulted you when you’ve done nothing but distrust me and drag me through the jungle, pushing and shoving.”

“Would you rather I’d left you to your friends?”

“No, but that’s not the point.”

He opened his arms and his mouth hardened. “Jump, cupcake. I don’t have all day.”

“Cupcake,” she grumbled and did as he instructed. Landing firmly in his big grasp, he held her for a moment. Jeez the man was built, the muscles of his arms and chest hard against her. She could feel every breath he took. He was invading her personal space, not by holding her. That was necessary, but with those eyes of his, gunmetal blue and this close she could see a dark navy blue rim around the iris. Those eyes… Now that she could see how thickly lashed they were, they made her breath suddenly feel trapped in her chest. Being this close to him made it hard to think with any clarity.

She cursed the camo paint on his face, wanting to see his features clearly, the dark also hampering her vision. But his lips were finely defined in the stubble on his face, accentuating the fullness.

“I’m not a cupcake,” she said firmly, but it came out much too breathless. “I am a reporter and former war correspondent.” She had calmly reported the news as the chaos of battle exploded around her. She dealt with military men on a daily basis, SEALs included. So what was it about this man, this Ruckus, that made her lose her cool?

A twinkle entered his eyes that was either a trick in the dark or was utterly wicked. “Soft, slightly moist and very sweet…cupcake.” Okay, that was wicked, purely wicked, wicked man. “Light as one, too,” he murmured.

“Sugar is bad for your health. So, put me down, Rambo.”

“It’s Ruckus,” he said, his expression telling her he knew she’d given him the wrong nickname on purpose, a way to subtlety dig at him and get some distance. He shifted her, far too aware of his hands. When he released her legs and shifted his arm to the small of her back as he lowered her slowly to the ground, her awareness when her thighs brushed along his filled her senses, clutching at his shoulders for balance. But he was rock solid and had no intention of letting her fall. Before she could step back, he now deliberately filled up her personal space, he reached out. Not sure of his intentions, she went still rather than move away, her breath trapped in her chest again, but he only removed leaves out of her hair.

“Oh, my mistake.” She felt like an idiot. They didn’t have time for this crap in the middle of all this danger.

“I think we’re safe now. We should get going. SERE time.” Damn his voice was deep, smooth. Her gaze dipped to his mouth, unbidden, and she had to fight the urge to wet her lips.

“Dana?”

The way he said her name, with that gruff quality made her senses flare again. This was going to be a pain in her ass. “Uh…yes. We—we should get going.” She stuttered her reply and was glad it was so dark. “What is SERE?”

Survival, Evasion, Resistance, Escape, but we’re more interested in evasion. We need to go north.”

“Right that’s where Yaviza is.” She looked up briefly and then said, “It’s this way.” She stepped in the right direction and his hand landed on her arm.

“Let me lead in case we run into some stragglers.” He moved in front of her, that broad back effectively obscuring her vision. Geez, he was big, and she wanted to kick him, get rid of this…this…attraction. “How did you know which way was north without a compass?”

She huffed a laugh. “The north star. I know how to navigate. I’m pretty self-sufficient when men aren’t kidnapping me or chasing me with guns, and dragging me through the jungle.”

He grunted and that was the extent of his answer. After about an hour and a half, he abruptly stopped. Judging by the position of the moon, she figured it was about three in the morning.

“We’re not going to get there by running ourselves ragged,” he said. “We’ll camp for the rest of the night and get a fresh start in the morning. “What provisions do you have in your pack?”

“I have a tent, blanket, cooking utensils, a way to start a fire, but I know that’s out of the question. Besides, I don’t have any food with me. I also have a change of clothes, first aid kit, rain poncho, camera, bug spray, personal hygiene stuff and makeup.”

He chuckled at the last one. “Pull out the tent, and you’re right, we can’t make a fire. I could probably hunt us up something, but we don’t want to broadcast our position to anyone looking for us. A fire can be seen from quite a distance. Looks like it’s MREs for us.”

She released her pack and swung it around. “Oh, Meals, Ready-to-Eat.” She’d heard plenty about them, but hadn’t ever had one. Before she could open her pack and pull out the tent, he took it out of her hands and searched in a side pocket where she’d put the IDs, passports and press credentials.

Pulling them out, he flashed a small light over the documents. He looked up at her face, then back down. “Looks like you and your crew are who you say you are.”

She snatched her papers back. “I am, and you could have asked me. Do you want to frisk me for weapons?”

“Nope. I watched you get dressed, cupcake. I’ve seen all your weapons.”

“Don’t call me cupcake, you jerk. Don’t you have any decency?”

“Sure,” he shrugged, “but when it comes to combat and the red zone. I go commando. That’s the nature of this job.”

“And demeaning women with cutesy names is your way of keeping me firmly in the detached package sort of way you SEALs think?”

He scowled which seemed to be his permanent facial expression. “Women are easily as combative as men and are sneakier about it. I don’t trust anyone. But if it comes down to it, Dana. No one is going to harm you unless I ain’t breathing. And, if that happens, I got a feeling you’re one tough cupcake and won’t go down without a fight. I think I could pass for Nelson if I need to. It was lucky all of them were packaged together.”

She nodded.

He went to pull out the tent, and she slapped his hands away, his comments making her even more breathless and so aware of him, not only as a man, but as a warrior and a good judge of character. He gave her a narrowed-eye look, then sighed when she glared back and raised her chin. She assembled it her-own-damn-self and when she was finished, she turned to find him pulling out foil packets.

Holding them up, he said, “Spaghetti and meatballs. You’re in a for a treat.” But the sarcastic lilt to his voice warned her that whatever was contained in those packets were anything but a treat.