The Reunion Mission

He scoffed and caught her hands in his, tugging her closer. “Believe me, cher. I thought about it plenty.”

She laced her fingers with his, her expression coy. “Then why didn’t you?” She tugged his hands behind her and planted them at the small of her back. “I think I’d like having your hands on me.”

The coil of lust inside him yanked tighter. With a groan, he slid his hands down the silky fabric of her dress to palm her bottom. He curled his fingers, testing the supple flesh beneath her dress and tugging her closer.

She sighed her pleasure, and when she tipped her head up, her eyes zeroing in on his mouth, he captured her lips with his. Moving one hand to cradle the base of her head, he held her in place while he explored the taste and texture of her kiss. She clutched at his back, returning his passion and meeting the thrust and parry of his tongue. A sound somewhere between a whimper and a purr rumbled in her throat, and the seductive mewl threw kindling on the fire already blazing in his blood. He wanted her so much he hurt.

“Nicole,” he rasped, barely recognizing his own voice, “let me take you home.”

“Only if you promise not to leave me at the door.” She nibbled her way down his jaw to his ear. “Last time, in high school, you left me … aching for you.” Nicole looped her arms around his neck, pressing her breasts against his chest. “I’m still aching for you.”

He half moaned, half sighed. “The feeling is mutual.”

When he slipped his hands under her dress and filled his hands with her bare bottom, she gasped. “Daniel …”

He shifted his hand, delving a finger into the moist heat between her legs, before the slam of a car door reminded him they were in public. If not for her reputation, he’d take her there in the grassy lawn of the antebellum mansion. But he wouldn’t subject her to any scandal or scorn from her social set. Grasping her arms, he kissed her forehead and levered back. “Not here. Which hotel are you staying at?”

She gave him the name of a posh hotel on Canal Street, and as he led her to his truck, he stooped to pick up the shoes she’d kicked off earlier. They seemed ridiculously small to him—size 6—with dangerously spiked heels. “How do you walk in these?”

She grinned. “Very carefully.”

He smacked another kiss on her lips before closing her door and circling to the driver’s side. The thirty-minute drive to her hotel was torture. He fought the urge to pull to the side of the road and toss her in the backseat, or stop at one of the many lower-rent motels they passed. But Nicole White was not the kind of woman he could take to a second-rate motor inn. He would wait another half hour until they reached her hotel room. Even if his body was strung tighter than a guy wire.

If it killed him, he would wait. For Nicole.

Chapter 2

Present day—Colombia

Nicole woke with a start when a large hand clamped over her mouth and a low male voice growled in her ear, “Don’t make any noise.”

He gaze flew to the dark figure hovering over her, and panic flooded her brain. In the night shadows, she could tell little about her attacker, except that he was large, and strong, and dark featured. When she squirmed, trying to find Tia, terrified this man could have harmed the little girl, the man’s hold on her tightened.

“It’s all right, Nicole. I won’t hurt you,” he whispered, his mouth so close to her that his lips brushed the shell of her ear and his warm breath fanned her neck. In the fog of her fear, it took her a moment to realize he’d used her name. And that he spoke English.

She snapped a startled gaze to his, straining to make out his face while her heart drummed an anxious beat against her ribs. No use. In the blackness of the jungle night, she couldn’t see anything distinguishing about his face.

“I’m an American operative. I’m here to take you home. Do you understand?”

Home. The word held such sweet promise, she couldn’t help the whimper of relief that squeaked from her throat.

Her attacker—no, her rescuer—loosened his grip on her mouth. “Promise to be quiet?”

She nodded, and tears of joy puddled in her eyes. She was going home. Finally. And Tia could get the medical attention she needed. Nicole’s heart soared, even though the prospect of escaping the camp filled her with a chilling fear.

As he removed his hand from her mouth, the man dragged his fingers along her chin, brushing her hair back from her face and wiping a tear from her cheek with his thumb. The intimate gesture startled her, and the first uneasy whispers that something was off tickled her nape. He hovered, scant inches above her, and she searched his face, wishing desperately she could see him better in the darkness. Then, with a troubled-sounding sigh, he dipped his head.

And kissed her.

Nicole’s breath caught, and her pulse scampered on a fresh wave of panic. Had he lied about his intentions? When her initial, paralyzing shock passed, she gained the frame of mind to resist. But hesitated.

His lips were gentle. The tender caress of his mouth surprised her, intrigued her. Filled her with a sweet warmth. Her body responded to his kiss as if she’d known him her whole life … and yet the edgy prickle at her neck bit harder.

A groan rumbled from his chest, and he broke the kiss to sit back on his heels, muttering a curse under his breath. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Damn right, you shouldn’t have! Who are you?” she whispered fiercely.

He tensed and angled a hooded glance toward her. “Your ticket outta here. Get up.” His tone was gruff now, in contradiction to his soft kiss, and she shivered, despite the clammy heat of the jungle. “I brought shoes and socks for you. Size 6, right?”

“I—yes. How did you know?”

“It’s my job to know.” He slid a pack off his back and pulled out a pair of boots. “Can you walk? We have a difficult hike ahead of us.”

“I can, but Tia’s weak.” She glanced to the sleeping girl, whose age she estimated at eight years and who’d shared her cage for the past several months. She’d come to love Tia like a daughter, bonding with the terrified child as she protected her from the cruelty of their guards. “She’s had a fever and hasn’t eaten in days.”

Her rescuer followed her glance to Tia and shook his head. “Forget it. She’s not coming with us.” He shoved the boots at her. “Put these on. Hurry.”

Nicole’s chest tightened. “What? She has to come. She’ll die here if I leave her!” She shifted her gaze down the row of night-darkened cages. “And what about the others? There are twelve of us being held here!”

He clamped a hand over her mouth and growled in her ear. “Keep your voice down.” He grabbed the socks up and shoved one onto her foot. “Our objective is to get you out. Only you. We can’t take anyone else.”

She snatched her foot away. “Why? Because they’re not American?” Disdain filled her voice, but she didn’t care. “Their lives still matter. We can’t leave—”

“No. Only you. We only have provisions for you.” His tone brooked no resistance, and he tossed a boot into her lap. “Hurry up.”

“Then … take Tia instead of me. Please. She’s just a child. This is no place for an eight-year-old girl.”

He glanced at Tia again and jammed fingers through his short black hair. Hope fluttered in Nicole’s chest. Clearly the idea of leaving a little girl behind bothered him.

He released a ragged sigh and cupped a hand at the nape of Nicole’s neck. “Don’t do this. I have been planning this rescue for months. I’m here to take you home. You, Nicole.” He kept his voice low, but his tone vibrated with fury and frustration.

An odd sense of familiarity sketched down her spine. Something about his voice …

“I will not do anything that could jeopardize my objective. Got it?”

Nicole’s temper spiked. “Did I ask you to save me?”

She felt him tense, his fingers digging into her scalp. “Get your ass moving, or I’ll carry you out of here.”

A frisson of fear slithered through her. Indecision. Anguish. “I won’t leave her. If you don’t take her, I’m not going, either.” To prove her point, Nicole shoved the boot into his chest and let it drop.

Even with the night shadows, she couldn’t miss the lethal scowl he narrowed on her.

“Lafitte!” another male voice whispered just outside her plywood shelter. “What the hell’s the hold up? Haul ass!”

Her rescuer bit out another curse, in French this time, and pivoted to where Tia slept. Bending over her, he scooped the girl into his arms.

Relief and gratitude swept through Nicole and left her trembling.