She was a definite hoo-yah on the sexy scale. It’s not what he should have been thinking right now. In fact, he should be grilling her on the whereabouts of Salazar. That ex-patriot turned drug lord wasn’t going to escape the noose that was tightening around his neck.

This woman couldn’t have landed into a darker den. Salazar was American, rich, and a deadly drug thug with international ties and body counts on his resume. War correspondent or not, this little sweet treat was out of her league.

He realized that she wasn’t a lightweight. She’d kept up and she’d performed with an amazing quickness. He’d called her cupcake to get her back up and make it that much easier to carry out his plan. She hadn’t disappointed him. Dana Sorenson aka cupcake put him in his place, but she was right about one thing. He didn’t trust women. Period.

It could have been because all the women in his life had betrayed him. He couldn’t extend his trust that far anymore. The only place he was safe was in his band of brothers. The SEAL team was his family.

So, he was interested in her body. Who wouldn’t be? He was a red-blooded American male and his appetites were a little raunchier than the average guy. Dana had some dangerous weapons just as he said and he wouldn’t hesitate to fuck her. Why the hell not? She was hot. He gritted his teeth. Yeah, Cooper. It’s easy to objectify her then interact with her one on one. Much easier to think about her as nothing but a female body.

She eyed the packet he held up with a dubious eye, and he didn’t blame her, although the spaghetti choice was a good one. It tasted like the canned variety, but packed with many more calories. Also included in the meal was au gratin potatoes, carrot pound cake, crackers, cheese spread and a grape electrolyte beverage.

He got to preparing them with the heating pack that came with. The instructions were hilarious, especially the warning that it was inedible.

“You can heat up the entrees?”

“Yeah, believe me, it’s better that way.”

She sat down cross-legged as he tucked the foil packet into the heat pouch and folded it over. The chemical reaction was fast and the heater stayed hot for about ten minutes, moving onto the potatoes when the spaghetti pack was done.

He had every intention of getting the information he needed out of her and dropping her shapely ass at the airport to make sure she got safely on a plane to the States before he went after Salazar.

“My crew—”

“Are safely out.”

“Where did they take them?”

“Classified information, but know they will get medical attention and escort back to the US.”

“They both knew the risks, but I’m worried about James. I sure hope he’ll be okay.”

“He will or he won’t.” After serving for the number of years he had, that was reality. People died every day, sometimes in his arms. It was the nature of this job. “No use worrying about it.”

“Are you really that detached?”

He stiffened. “No, I’m a realist.” He shoved her portion into her hands and said, “Eat. Then get some sleep. We’re heading out at the crack of dawn.” He didn’t want to analyze too closely all the emotions he’d wrapped up from all the death he’d seen. It would overwhelm him, and as a SEAL, he was always in control of everything.

He started eating his.

It took her a few more minutes as she scrutinized him. He wished she wouldn’t speculate about him at all. She didn’t know him. He’d compartmentalized everything from his childhood to his marriage to his last deployment. Women were soft creatures, a lot of work, duplicitous, and manipulating. But damn if she wasn’t freaking beautiful, those eyes of hers boring into his.

As a news person, she was probably pretty good at reading people. Not this SEAL. He’d keep his secrets.

Her first bite was tentative. She tasted it delicately, and he couldn’t help watching her lips as her jaw moved. She looked at him. “It’s not bad.”

“Yeah, one of my favorites along with beef stew and some of the snacks. You’ll need the calories. It’s only one thousand since we had to share.”

She sat up straight. “Two thousand? In one small meal?”

“Yup. More than you consume in one day, I’m sure.”

“I don’t count calories. I eat whatever I want, especially cookies. Chocolate chip is my favorite. It’s all about moderation. Besides, I’m a runner. Normally, I can run for miles without breaking a sweat. I really didn’t need carrying. I just—”

“Panicked.”

She huffed out a breath. “Yes, I panicked.”

He was surprised. He expected her to lie. Most people did about fear. Fear made someone vulnerable and most people didn’t like that especially him. “Bullets flying tends to do that.” He wondered if she was as honest about this, what exactly would she lie about? Everyone had secrets, some were so buried they weren’t accessible, but were there beneath the surface, screwing up the head.

“Where exactly did Salazar go?”

“I’d rather not say. I don’t want to wake up and have you gone. I said I was going with you ,and I meant it.”

Ruckus leaned forward, his tone soft and deadly. “For the record, cupcake. I wouldn’t leave a civilian stranded in the deep jungle with no food or water, hostiles everywhere. No matter how capable or a pain in the ass she was being.”

She smiled sweetly. “My hero.”

His eyes went flat, her words reminding him completely of his past and how not a hero he was. “Are you always this much trouble?”

She didn’t bat a lash. He found himself utterly fascinated with her face and every emotion that crossed it. It pissed him off. He wondered how she would look when she was being done good. She wasn’t about to let him close enough to touch her, let alone do her. “Only with you, it seems.”

He gave her his best I’m-the-one-in-charge look that scared the crap out of just about anyone. Still nothing. “It’s not personal. You are interfering with a federal package here. There could be repercussions from the attorney general on down.”

Her eyes widened and she cooed. “Not the attorney general. What are they going to do? Dig up my tax returns? I have the first amendment on my side. I’m a journalist, and this is free speech. So stuff that in your kit bag.”

“I wouldn’t put it past them,” he muttered. “There are many ways to retaliate. Least of all screwing up your passport. They could throw you in jail for a long time.” He certainly didn’t want to imagine this beauty behind bars because she was being difficult. What was driving her to go after those memory cards besides the story? Was she that one-minded? But getting personal was out of the question. He didn’t want to get into her head or have her get into his.

“Salazar has my property, and I’m getting it back.” She bulldozed ahead without taking a breath, and he half expected her to poke his chest. “I’m not asking your permission. I’m just stating facts.” She did poke him, but in his tactical vest right in the center of his chest. No disappointment there. “For me. This is personal.”

“Are you sure this has nothing to do with getting all this recorded for a story?”

She froze and turned around. “A story! You act like this is nightly news. I don’t do stories. I do real life and the suffering and pain that goes with that. Those people deserve to have that in the limelight so others are aware of what is really going on. My interviews, their heartache, pain, suffering and hope for freedom are on those cards. They’re irreplaceable! I don’t care whether you think that’s important or not.”

He grabbed her arm, ready to give her a dose of reality. “The average person doesn’t give a damn what’s going on.” Okay, so she was a do-gooder, and he’d made a mistake when he pegged her for a news hound.

She pulled out of his grasp, stumbling. When he went to help steady her, she moved shakily away. “I do, and I’m reporting it. At least I will reach some people. That’s enough for me.” She walked a few steps away then whirled around. “I’m taking you to Salazar, so technically, I am cooperating. You’re just pissed you’re not in control. But, you can arrest me at the crack of dawn, Rambo. I’m going to sleep.”

He gritted his teeth and wanted to yell at the top of his lungs, but it would be too dangerous as he watched her shapely backside disappear into the tent. He angrily snatched up the remnants of their meal and buried everything. Then he grabbed his M-4 and sat down bracing his back against a tree staring out into the night. She was determined to risk her life for those cards. Dammit! “Freaking irritating cupcake,” he muttered.

“You got yourself a situation, LT?” Kid’s amused voice buzzed in his ear.

Ruckus sat up, his body tense. “Where are you, petty officer?”

“At the LZ. All the bad guys are gone or dead. We’re not leaving here without you. I thought I made that clear.”

“You wet behind the ears little bastard,” he snarled. “I told you to get back to the carrier with those civilians. I would get in touch.”

“Copy that, sir,” Scarecrow’s smooth Southern voice came over the comm. “You absolutely didn’t say anything about us coming back. We went to the carrier and dropped off the friendlies just like you ordered. The doc said the unconscious guy, James Quinn has a severe concussion and is dehydrated. He’s getting fluids and they’re assessing his condition. Liam Nelson is also dehydrated and malnourished. Cuts, bruises and a broken wrist, but he’ll mend. Now we’re here for backup. Just let us know what’s shaking, and we’ll do what’s needed.”

“Also, Major McRae wants you to get the information out of the reporter and then get her to safety, pronto.”

“Good luck with that, LT,” Blue said and the rest of them chuckled.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. Apparently, he was being usurped on every front. “You chuckleheads having a good time? Good. Standby then. I will let you know the moment I have Salazar’s coordinates.”

“The little…ah…cupcake sandbagging you, Ruckus?” Cowboy twanged. In the open mic, he heard chuckles. Damn them. This wasn’t funny.

He looked toward the tent. “Nothing I can’t handle.” The little cupcake was a handful and seemingly not at all intimidated by him or the US government. He didn’t want to, but he had to wonder what was driving her. Was this really about some migrant story or was there more here he just didn’t know about? Didn’t want to know about. He had a directive. Get Salazar alive, but Dana would take precedence over that slime dog. There were no detours, no barricades, nothing he wouldn’t do to carry out his mission. One beautiful woman with a steel attitude certainly wasn’t going to stop him. He chewed metal for dessert.

He took several battle naps during the rest of the night, alert for any sound that would indicate tangos. In the early morning, the air hung thickly, though cooler, almost dense to the touch. He listened carefully as he surveyed the area, picking out the movement of little creatures separate from his own breathing. They watched him intently, well aware of a predator when they saw one. He had to give them their due. Surviving in this jungle when even the plants could kill was not a small feat.

He went to the nearest water source and filled his camelback, a soft skinned water container with a straw that allowed him to drink on the move, keeping his hands free. He purified it with tablets. Then using the soap he found in Dana’s pack, he washed the camo paint off his face, the breeze blowing across his wet hair and skin, cooling him.

He climbed the nearest tree and with his palm-sized binoculars, a Cyclops version, he tested the movement of the autofocus, then scanned the area once, and started closest to them, systematically clearing the area of threat before moving away. Ruckus swung to the right, lower in the valley. Movement was sporadic, the flutter of birds, darting everywhere, their feathers flashes of bright color in the gloom, flitting among the lacework of the branches. Monkeys contrasted their fluttering with powerful holds of disproportionately long limbs and prehensile tails, tree branches bending beneath their weight, their black and brown hides all but lost in the foliage, only glimpses of their white faces visible.

Some of them watched Ruckus from a nearby tree, their faces intent. The humans had miles and miles of this jungle to cover, filled to the brim with danger. Too bad they couldn’t use the trees the same way, Tarzan style. The safest place for her would be Yaviza, far to the north. He’d have to get the information he needed by the time he got there. Then she could be on her way back to the US, and he’d be closer to his original target.

Charm wasn’t his strong suit. He was more of a blunt force trauma kind of guy.

She came out of the tent and looked around. For a moment, her face showed her surprise, and then panic. She really thought he’d abandoned her. He couldn’t let her think that. Even after her opposing behavior, he knew exactly what abandonment felt like. He whistled softly and she jerked her face toward the tree he was sitting in. Relief replaced that look, and for all her bravado, she was scared.

With a wash of protectiveness flowing over him, he stared down at her. She shielded her eyes, and stared back. For better or worse, she was his charge and he had no intention of letting her get hurt, no matter how much she was holding back from him.

After one last look, he started to climb down, then movement far away caught his attention. A drug caravan, boats moving through the jungle at a slow pace. He wouldn’t say no to some transportation, but messing with Clan Los Piratas could very well reveal their location to the group that was no doubt scouring the jungle for them.

It was clear that Dana was important to their leader, and Salazar wasn’t known for his forgiveness or mercy. They wouldn’t give up. Their lives were on the line. Well, all of them would have to freaking go through him. No one was harming a hair on that beauty’s head.

He climbed down. They would eat some more of the MREs and then get going. They had many miles to cover.

* * *

As his boots hit the ground, she approached him. His back was to her. He pushed away from the trunk and turned to face her.

“Good…” The word morning didn’t emerge because her throat muscles contracted and all the oxygen she needed to speak simply backed up in her lungs. Ruckus’s coffee brown hair gleamed in the sun, auburn highlights flaming in the dark strands. With his helmet off and that camo paint washed clean from his features, she discovered that this SEAL was as drop-dead gorgeous as his face hinted in the darkness.

The bright light of day lovingly revealed that his eyes were indeed a gunmetal blue, a dark rim outlining the iris and emphasizing his steely gaze. The expression on his lean, tanned face was stern, almost brooding.

He leaned against the tree, but the energy in him just wouldn’t let him relax enough for the trunk to take his full weight.

He dropped his head back, looking at her from beneath his thick tangle of lashes. “You thought I left you,” he said softly instead of in that gruff, I’m-deadly voice he’d used last night to argue with her. Then he unfurled a grin that knocked her back as if she’d been punched in the stomach, as if he’d reached out and touched her skin, trailing his fingertips in an intimate way that had her heart beating double time.

Never had she ever felt this blindsided by a set of dimples and a high wattage smile. He really should do that more often…all the time. It transformed his face. Even though it registered in his eyes, it couldn’t quite do away with the dark intensity there.

“For a moment, I did. Then I realized you wouldn’t do that.”

“No, I told you I wouldn’t.” He gestured in the distance. “If you have to go, do it over there. We’ll want everything…localized so we can remove every trace we were here.”

“Go?”

“To the lady’s room,” he said delicately.

She set her hands on her hips, caught off guard. “Oh, I see. You even decide where I do my business?”

The smile faded from his face and his brows dropped. “What? It’s for our—”

“Gotcha,” she intoned and backed up as his face cleared, then he dropped his head and chuckled. Okay, so he could take a joke.

She took care of going, and when she came back, he was preparing more of the MREs. His face was in profile and she got punched all over again. He was back to looking stern and tough. Annoyed with herself for even noticing his looks, she gritted her teeth. He was kneeling, his big hands on his thighs, that automatic weapon easily in his reach. She knelt down too, starving.

“What treat do you have for me this morning?”

“Eggs, bacon and toast with a side of fruit.”

She huffed a whimsical breath. “What are you? A miracle worker?”

“No, sorry. It’s just more MREs. But I do have fruit. Zapplesauce.” He held up the container.

“Zapplesauce,” she said, her voice tentative.

“An amped up applesauce, supplement charged, complex carbohydrate that will give us a turbo charge. If you’re really good and we can find a safe place to heat water, we’ll get a chance at Irish-cream coffee later.”

She snorted. “Oookkkaaayyy.”

He laughed and started the heating process for the pork sausage patty and chocolate toaster pastry. He opened the package for wheat snack bread and blackberry jam, and the orange electrolyte beverage, giving her half of everything.

“Thank you for sharing your food with me.”

They were nearly at eye level, and Dana felt herself leaning toward him, as if he were drawing her by some powerful magnetic force. His gaze slid down to her mouth and lingered there, directly frank in its appraisal. She swallowed hard and barely managed to resist running her tongue across her bottom lip.

He looked away and blew out a breath. She had to take one of her own. As he ripped open packages and prepared the meal, his mouth was set in stern lines again above a strong, stubborn-looking chin that sported an inch-long diagonal scar. He looked tough and dangerous suddenly, and she wanted him to smile again. His gaze came back to hers as he handed her the heated meal, the touch of his hand, warm and rough, sent a shiver down her spine.

“How long have you been in the SEALs,” she asked to get her mind off his arresting face, off her speculation of what he looked like beneath that uniform.

His gaze held hers fast. He looked every inch the warrior and not much inclined to give her a whole lot of personal information.

“Twenty years.”

She waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t, just started eating. That couldn’t be right.

“That long? You don’t look old enough to be forty.”

“I’m not. I’m thirty-seven.”

“Oh, that means you went in when you were…seventeen. Wow, that’s young.”

“You’re very good at math,” he responded, continuing to eat.

“Why?”

He glanced at her and then down to his meal. “You almost done? We need to get going.”

“I thought a little conversation would help. Getting to know each other—”

“Is a waste of time and energy. We’re only going to be together until I get you home. So stop trying to interview me.”

Anger flared at his tone. “I’m not interviewing you. I was just asking questions like a normal human being,” she huffed out and then stood up. He stood up so quickly, she had to back up a step. He shifted his weight forward, suddenly invading her personal space, and she had to fight to keep from jumping back as her tension level rose to the red zone. She gulped down her instinctive reaction at his defensiveness. In her experience, it covered pain and unhappiness. Tilting her chin to look at him, she stood her ground. She’d faced down men like him without batting an eyelash, handled mortars and IED blasts, dealt with living in a war zone for years. She wanted to know at least one personal thing about him. She couldn’t figure out why. Maybe it made this more of a partnership than him barking orders and deciding the course of action. “I don’t even know your name,” she murmured.

“You don’t need to know my name, cupcake. I’m clandestine and under the radar here. The less you know, the better. Classified is classified for a reason.”

“I already know your mission.”

“Yeah, because you were caught in the middle between Salazar and a bunch of Navy SEALs. We’re not out here on a pleasure walk. I’m going to get him. That’s all you need to know.”

He started gathering everything up and left to where he’d designated their latrine. After a few moments, he came back. She’d already broken down the tent and stowed it back in her pack. He stoically grabbed his pack and swung it onto his back. She figured it must weigh sixty pounds. “I can tell you your team is in stable condition and the prognosis is optimistic.”

She nodded, gratitude at this information obvious. Grabbing up his weapon, he started off.

She followed his retreating back.

* * *

Ruckus clenched his jaw. First off because he was such an asshole to her, but secondly because she made him feel vulnerable, made him think about why he’d gone into the navy at seventeen. Stuff he didn’t want to remember. Normally, he was careful and gentle with the opposite sex, but Dana was pushing buttons he didn’t even know he had. Most women backed off when he closed down, but not her. She had to keep asking her personal questions. He just wasn’t going to get involved with her on that level. He was her escort through to safety, and she had knowledge he needed. That was all.

He would focus on the fastest route to his target. They needed one of those boats.

“We’re going to head toward the FARC and procure one of their boats. I figure we should get there by nightfall after stopping for food and water.”

“You’re going to steal a boat from the FARC? That’s not exactly done.”

He turned to her. “If you can’t solve a problem, it’s because you’re playing by the rules,” he murmured. SEALs thought outside the box and did what needed to be done, rules of engagement be damned.

“I had safe passage with the FARC.” She gave a self-depreciating laugh. “Well, safe is probably a misnomer, but, nevertheless, they allowed us through. It was required to go into the Gap and get my story.”

“Consorting with drug runners and murderers? That’s very un-cupcake-like of you.”

She glared at him, not at all amused. “There’s always two sides of the argument, but it was a necessary evil. They would say they were patriots fighting for their country,” she said through gritted teeth. “It kills me we had to ask permission of them to get what was necessary. They have been drug-running their cocaine for years to avoid the sea patrols, creating trouble for the indigenous people here. They force them to act as guides, too.”

“It’s perfect for FARC. It’s treacherous, swampy and nobody really lives out here.”

“Yes, I guess it is. I could talk to them. I still have their permission to move freely through here.”

He turned to her. “But I don’t. I’m a Navy SEAL on foreign soil on a black op. I can’t let anyone know I’m here. We’re on our own,” he said and her face blanched.

He wanted to feed her a nice, safe story, but the fact remained. Every moment they traversed this jungle, they were vulnerable. She had backbone and courage. He would give her that, but in the end, it wouldn’t matter. Maybe he didn’t want to get personal, but he admired her. She would go back to her life and he’d get on with the business of protecting America. He’d never see her again.

He ignored the regret at that thought and led her into the undergrowth.