the left toward the barely visible path that rose nearly straight up the hillside.
Sam was examining his rifle. It was useless until he could clean the sludge out of it. “You want to keep her around? She’s trouble.”
“We didn’t get them all. They’ll hunt us and her.”
And she’d be noticeable. A redhead in Thailand. Worse than a Yankee at a Texas barbeque.
“And we brought her into this,” Sam admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “We have to at least get her wherever she wants.” He looked up as she peeled off her wet shirt, then wrung it out. Beneath it, she wore a sports bra thing that showed off her tan and narrow waist. For a moment, he wanted her to face him, let him see what that baggy shirt had hidden, what he’d felt pressed to him.
Why did she have to be a redhead?
Then she shook her head like a dog, the motion making her lose her footing. She righted herself, then walked more stiffly. He imagined her cheeks reddening, and Sam’s lips curved. Damn if she wasn’t the most entertaining nightmare he’d ever had.
“We’re stuck with her for now.” He called out, but she didn’t respond, melting into the forest, alone. “Christ, see what I mean?” Sam stormed after her, muttering, “God gave a frog a brain and shared half of it with her.”
Max didn’t follow immediately, his amusement dying as his gaze slid over the terrain, the way they’d come. They’d just pissed off the Thai mafia.
Viva was the least of their problems.
Inside the dense branches, she hid, watching the small boat slide to the dock on flat water. She couldn’t hit them at this distance, but knew where they’d go. They had little choice but to cross the jungle. She studied their faces, put them to memory. Her master would make certain they’d never speak of this. She lingered a moment longer, then began the careful climb to the ground.
Below her, the bodies of tho thahan were like tumbled matchsticks, spent and useless. She’d take nothing from the soldiers. They weren’t hers. Her foot touched the ground, soundless, and she quickly shifted beyond the dead, her ears tuned to the predators prancing slowly from the darkness to come feast on the still warm flesh.
The jungle wrapped her like a lover, her body glistening with its liquid touch as she moved quickly, her destination preordained, her task far from done.
The river vanished behind Viva, closed out by the dense tropical forest.
She didn’t hear him move up behind her, but she felt it. His presence like a whisper, sensation without substance. It was the most amazing feeling she’d ever experienced, and she tipped her head slightly, acknowledging him, yet she said nothing.
He moved quickly abreast of her, hacking mercilessly at the jungle when the path narrowed. “Keep moving, Viva.” He walked backwards a couple steps, weapon aimed.
She glanced, stumbled. “They’re still out there, you think?”
“Definitely.” Sam hurried her forward.
“But you put the fear of automatic weapons in them.”
“We were just lucky. This is their playground.” He signaled Max to stay to the left.
Hurriedly, she slipped her shirt back on and started buttoning it.
“Now that’s just a shame.”
Her gaze jerked his, confused till his gaze flicked to her breasts cupped in tight spandex. “Back off, Wyatt.”
“No problem there, ma’am, you bite.”
She blinked, then smiled brightly, making her eyes light up and turn her expression from pretty to downright electric. The power of it hit Sam dead center of his chest and left heat snaking down his body.
Man, he didn’t need that, not now.
“This hasn’t been a normal day.”
For her, maybe, he thought, watching his six.
Viva noticed that though he appeared to be relaxed, he wasn’t; his gaze darted around them, picked a new spot at each new scan. The machete was slung at his hip, and his finger was on the trigger of the rifle. And without touching him, she knew his shoulders were tight. “Who are you, Sam Wyatt?” she asked softly.
He simply watched the land, not responding.
“Listen, Sparky, I’m not stupid…” Viva pushed on ahead of him.
He blinked. Sparky?
“…so don’t play dumb. You bargained with at least a hundred fifty, maybe two hundred carat diamond back there. Although…cut it would be about half that. Which is still very substantial and worth several million, but that’s if the cutter could find the table and split it with the least amount of fragmentation and—”
He caught her arm, keeping her with him. “Lower your voice. What do you know about gems?”
“Not much.” At his scowl, she whispered, “I worked with a gemologist for about a year.”
“How’d you go from a dig to gemology?”
Trying to meet his long strides, she gathered her composure for the assault she always received when people learned how many different jobs and career starts—and failures—she’d had. “Unemployment.”
Sam saw the humiliation in her pretty face and wondered how someone so sharp could ever be out of a job. “You have a degree in archeology?”
“No, paleoclimatology.”
“That’s as useless as it gets.”
“Not if you want to know the weather conditions a million years ago.” And be bored to madness, she thought. “It was wet everywhere, by the way, then got surprisingly cold.”
Sam went to push back some vines and she grabbed his hand before he did. “Don’t touch that!” She found a stick and pushed up the leaves of a tall plant. She showed him the millipedes covering the leaves. “They secrete a fluid that will blister your skin.”
His expression questioned.
“Two semesters of tropical botany.” She walked away. “And I’ve been here long enough to experience my own stupidity.”
Sam’s brows shot up. A woman open to her faults, he thought, rare, yet more closed about her assets. His gaze lowered over her spine to the tight curves of her rear. Sweet. She had assets. In one form or another.
“Now that you’re done inspecting my behind…”
His gaze flashed up. “Who said I was done?”
She flushed delicately. “You’re changing the subject.”
“Man, you’re slick.” Sam looked the way they’d come, frowning.
“I don’t let go of a bone I want to pick either. So what are
