The Captive's Return

"Like now?"



"Exactly."



Rustle. Rustle. She inched her way back over to him. "So I can eat bugs'stead of those icky yellow nanners off the tree?"



"If it's the right kind of bug. But you know to stay away from the frogs, right?" Tree frogs in the region were almost always poisonous.



"Mama told me. Frogs make you sick. But what about the bugs? Do we gots the right kind?" She scooched closer until her tiny knee bumped against his. "Yummy kinds that crunch."



Crunch? He could imagine Sara shuddering over that. "I'll check around in the morning for a yummy bug. Although I'll still need to ask your mother first."



"If you're my padre then you could say it's okay."



He should probably do something, like pat her back. Yeah, that sounded right, so he patted, got her shoulder instead, but she didn't screech or anything so he must have done it right.



God Almighty, she was so small. The awesome responsibility of keeping her alive and safe in the middle of a damn jungle crashed down on him. He was so in over his head.



"We should still ask your mother in case you've got allergies—foods that make you sick."



"If you ask her, I'll never get to eat'em again. She thinks bugs are icky."



If he didn't watch out, he'd lose all of his objectivity around this kiddo fast. He'd better do a little maneuvering of his own before she had him rolling logs at midnight to unearth a bedtime snack. "I'll make a deal with you. If you'll try to go back to sleep, and be really quiet during our walk, I'll see about talking your mama into a bug feast."



"Gracias! That's better than a horsie ride. Buenas noches." She slid away and curled against her mama again.



Huffy sleeping breaths soon reassured him he could relax with nothing more to do than stay on guard for prowling animals. She may not have hugged him goodnight, but he could still feel the imprint of her sitting beside him. She was real. A kid he would know for the rest of his life.



What did he understand about parenting? He didn't have any example to follow of playdates in the park or bedtime stories with prayers.



"Gracias."



The repeated whisper threw him for a second...until he realized this thanks came from Sara.



Did these two ever sleep? Or were they both hell-bent and determined to chew on his emotions all night long? "For what?"



"For making her happy while I napped. For figuring out ways to keep her quiet without making her afraid."



Her soft voice in the night brought back too many memories of other nighttime whispers between them. He'd been with other women, but never one who shook him up as much as Sara. Damn, he was raw right now, scared as hell something might happen to these two females on his watch, wondering how he would carry them both out of the jungle.



"It's all a matter of survival." Speaking of survival... "Are you feeling okay now?"



"I only needed a nap. But I can't believe I fell asleep without even taking off my shoes." She wriggled beside him, her shoes thud, thudding onto the ground. "Although I do feel much more rested now."



The trek would have been rough on anyone. Maybe he was imagining the excess exhaustion. She certainly sounded better than the woman who'd fallen asleep sitting up with a toothbrush hanging from her mouth.



For a minute—a minute only—he let himself think about what he would do if everything she said was true. Lucia was his. She'd never lied to him. Using him for Tomas was understandable. Forgivable.



So if all of that were true, there would be nothing to stop him from kissing her.



Funny how she could feel his intent before he even moved.



Sara dug her fingers in the soft earth to keep from launching herself into Lucas's arms. She knew he wanted to kiss her. She wanted the same thing. Lucia was asleep.



So why not?



Nothing more could come of it tonight. She would simply enjoy the warmth of his mouth. Perhaps she would even discover she'd imagined the electricity between them all those years ago.



Or that it had faded, and they would both be free of the complicating mess of sorting out their past. They could go about the business of raising their child and start fresh lives for themselves.



But first, she had to kiss him. Or rather, she wanted him to kiss her. Maybe a small part of the old Sara lived after all, because her pride dictated that since she'd chased him so hard before, this time she wanted him to come to her.



"Sara?" He groaned her name.



"Si." She whispered her consent, meeting him halfway as they both tipped forward.



He tasted of toothpaste and mangoes and a hint of sweat, and oh, she hadn't imagined a thing. If anything, no memory could do justice to the spark that first second their mouths brushed, held, then finally opened. She rediscovered the feel of his hard body under her hands, the way she fit against him when his arms gathered her closer, his broad shoulders curving to cradle her.



The kiss could only go so far. She knew it as well as he must. But there was a certain freedom in being able to savor the moment because they didn't have to make any decisions about whether or not to take things further.



She'd missed this, missed him. After five years without a man's touch, without his touch, her body craved the comfort as much as the passion.



Although the passion was about a second from nosing ahead in the race. Lucas eased from her, his ragged breaths reassuring her he was suffering, too.



Gasping, she sagged against the tree supporting their lean-to. "So you eat bugs?"



His surprised snort of laughter tickled her ears and made her smile in return. She loved making this solemn man laugh.



He slid an arm around her shoulders and drew her to his side, his chin resting on her head. "You heard all of that, too?"



"I certainly did."



His fingers played up and down her arm, his hot breath in her hair. "Then I'm surprised you still wanted to kiss this mouth, knowing what's gone into it."



His muscles rippled against her, reminding her of his honed strength that had carried them through the past two days. She'd never considered before now that he only relaxed during sex. Even when they'd gone on dates, he stayed on alert, always watching as if for threats. Perhaps a by-product of his military training combined with his already intense personality.



Having lived a constant vigil against danger for five years, she now respected how exhausting that could be. "I was thinking more about what came from your mouth, how you put Lucia at ease, beyond just getting her to go to sleep or be quiet during our walk. You helped her smile during what could have been the most frightening time of her life."



"A fluke. I'm not good with kids. No experience."



"I beg to differ. Just because you aren't into reading The Three Bears and playing hide-and-seek doesn't mean you're not good with children. You listened to her, talked to her. Children sense and appreciate sincerity."



His rippling muscles went harder against her. "Don't romanticize me."



"I know you better than you think, or at least I used to. I guess we've both changed over the past five years."



"I'm just glad you're okay."



Well, she was glad to hear that. She'd almost forgotten what a master of the understatement he could be. "Where do we go from here?"



"We have to get out alive first." Night bugs hummed in the silence between them. "Do you want to come to the States?"



"I want Lucia to get to know her father."



His stroking fingers paused as did his breathing.



When he didn't answer, nerves pattered up her spine like a thousand tiny caterpillars.



"You want that, too, don't you?"



He resumed caressing her arms—breathing, too. "She's my kid. Of course I want you both near me."



"Where do you live now?" How strange not to even know something so basic about his daily life. Asking felt like the early days of dating all over again.



"I'm stationed at Charleston Air Force Base in South Carolina. Lucia will have beaches there, as well."



"What do you do in Charleston?"



"I'm flying again, C-l 7s now."



"You started in the C-141 before you took the assistant air attache job at the embassy, right?"



"Good memory."



"I remember everything we said to each other."



"We're not going to be able to pick up where we left off."



So much could have changed over the years. He'd thought she was dead, which would have left him free to date other women. Sleep with other women. Oh, she did not like this jealousy clawing inside her.



Dios Mio, what if— "You didn't marry someone else while I was dead, did you?"



His chest shook with another surprised snort. "God no."



Not much of a testimony for positive feelings about marriage. Still she would think of that later because right now she was too busy wallowing in relief that he hadn't committed to someone else. "I'm glad. That would have made things very complicated."



"We're both different people now." His stroking hand slowed, cupping her arm and snuggling her closer against him. "So I guess that means we're starting from scratch."



Hmm. Such a wonderful pillow. "Starting from scratch, but with a brother and child and history."



As well as an intimate knowledge of what made the other scream with pleasure.



She wriggled to get comfortable again, leaves rustling under her, although her current itch remaining from their kiss couldn't be eased by shifting around. Lucas's grunt stilled her. She hadn't elbowed him or hurt his arm, had she? She forced herself to relax, which melded her back against his chest, her bottom nestled between his legs — Her wonderful pillow was also wonderfully hot and turned-on.



Heaven help them, it was going to be a long night.



Chapter 7



After another night spent in the Jeep, Ramon emptied a gas can into the tank. Only four more left.



If he didn't find Sarafina and Lucia before sundown, he would be on foot with this strangely silent woman in tow instead of tied to the front seat.



Damnation, he'd expected to overtake them on the first day. But the bridge had blown, a tire went flat and then their tracks disappeared. His instincts told him he was on their trail. After all, it made sense that they would follow the river into town, a shorter route. He considered taking off after them on foot since the road wound far longer, but the risks of abandoning the Jeep far outweighed the benefits.



If he followed the road, eventually their paths would merge. Worst-case scenario, he would come out ahead of them and wait in town.



He untied Nola's wrists from the armrest. "Fill the canteens and then you can take a minute alone in the trees."



Nodding, she obeyed. She always did, silently obedient, as if cowed into submission.



Or biding her time.



Either way, she was helpful as hell, which left his hands free to keep the gun raised and his eyes alert. Her silence was eerie, but Padilla was a sick bastard. He thought about his dead family and swallowed down the need to howl out his grief and blaze through the jungle.



Later, he would have time to mourn them as they deserved. Now was for the living.



Checking the oil, his gun always close at hand, Ramon struggled with images of what could be happening to Lucia or Sarafina. She'd once raged at him for keeping her secluded. Why couldn't she have understood he was only protecting her from twisted evil in the world, from bastards such as Padilla?



Soft Sarafina didn't have half the steel of this woman, Nola, clearing away their camp with quiet efficiency. Watching her in action, though, he couldn't escape the sense that she'd picked up survival training somewhere.



She always scooped water from where it was moving. She even filtered it through her shirt. She watched the sun as if gauging their location.