him. She looked lost. Like someone who had been abandoned by the world, her eyes huge and dark blue as she lifted her head and met his gaze.
Josh felt his heart do more than twinge when Aly looked soulfully up into his eyes. He saw terror, pain and hurt in them. As his gaze dropped from her long nose to the shape of her opened lips, he felt his lower body tighten. Groaning inwardly, Josh wanted to roll his eyes and swear. God, her lips were...well...world-class. The lower lip was naturally a pout, her upper lip softly bow-shaped, a little less full. The corners of her mouth were deep and curved upward. He bet she had dimples when she smiled or laughed. But she was doing neither right now. The sheen of perspiration made her face glisten in the early morning light. Tendrils of ginger-colored hair curled at her temples from the high humidity. Her brows were thin and arched; a frame to emphasize those long lashes that held those amazing marine-blue eyes of hers. Yeah, she was soft-looking, all right. But Josh reminded himself of his image of her when she was twelve, terribly injured, critical, but fighting her way back.
“How’s the breathing now?” he asked, pulling out a protein bar and handing it to her.
“Thanks.... Better.”
“You weren’t rasping as much,” he observed, quickly eating his bar, looking around, his ears keyed to any sounds out of the ordinary.
“How far have we come?”
“Five miles. Not enough.” If he’d been alone, he’d be twelve miles away, but he said nothing. She felt bad enough, beaten up, her life threatened continually.
Aly chewed little bits of the bar, unable to swallow hardly anything, but she knew she had to get energy back into her body. There was no way she was ever going back to Duarte’s villa. She’d die first.
“How far should we be?” She looked up at him, thinking the camouflage paint hid his face to a degree. Aly wondered what Josh Patterson looked like without it. Despite his size, his large hands, he had a gentle touch with her. And he tried to not sound gruff to her, she realized. It spoke of his sensitivity and she desperately needed someone who wouldn’t batter her any more in any way.
“A ways more,” Josh replied, finishing his bar. He noticed she winced every time she swallowed a little bit of hers. His hand moved into a fist and he relaxed it. Those bastards. Anger threaded through him. A part of him wanted to hide her, to go back and find those who had hurt her and put them out of their misery. Permanently. It was wishful thinking.
As he watched her eat, the way her lips moved, he could feel himself growing hard. Not what he’d expected. But there it was. Aly wasn’t model-beautiful but she had a natural beauty that appealed strongly to him. And more than anything, she wasn’t a whiner. In fact, Josh knew she’d be the last person to tell him she was hurting. Life had toughened her up early because she’d lost her mother at twelve. Josh couldn’t imagine losing his mother at that age. Mothers were damned important because not only were they nurturers, they were protectors; they made their children feel safe.
Had Aly Landon ever felt safe since she lost her mother?
“How are you doing?” he prompted, holding her shadowed gaze. She was taking mincing bites. She needed to eat the whole thing, but they didn’t have that kind of time. Josh weighed leaving now or waiting for her to finish. That would be another ten minutes. A mile further in his mind; half a mile with her in tow.
He cursed himself for noticing how her T-shirt was damp and darker between her breasts. And then, which he realized with a start, that she wasn’t wearing a bra. Worse, he saw her nipples standing out against the fabric. His mouth thinned while he instantly jerked his gaze off that area of her body. She didn’t need to feel threatened by him, too.
“Did Duarte have dogs at the villa?”
“I don’t think so. I never saw any. Why?”
“Because they can be used to follow our scent. Hunt us down.”
“Oh...”
He saw the sudden terror come to her eyes, her lips compressing.
“They aren’t going to catch us,” he told her firmly, holding her unsure gaze. God, he wanted to wrap his arms around her, to squeeze her and tell her everything would be all right. But he wasn’t sure of anything with Duarte. There were at least twenty drug soldiers he’d counted. And Josh knew they’d be sending them out to find them. He’d been careful; choosing areas to cover his tracks, taking her over small streams here and there and walking along a stream if it was going where they were headed. Still, he knew a good tracker could follow them, but he hadn’t made it easy.
“I’m sorry this all happened,” she said lamely, shrugging, wincing because her left shoulder where Rusak had grabbed her that first day on the trail, was injured. Aly thought there might be a ligament tear in her shoulder. “I’m sure your wife is going crazy wondering where you are. If you’re okay...”
The utter sincerity in her eyes gut punched him. What was it about Aly’s blue gaze, those deep-set sapphire eyes that seemed to gently look through him, to see him clear to his soul? Frowning, he muttered, “I don’t have a wife that has to worry about me.” Adding, more gruffly, “Or a girlfriend. So stop worrying about me. Okay?” Josh knew she didn’t have a steady man in her life, at least not according to her file. But he never trusted files.
“Do you have someone back at the Charity that should be contacted?” he asked, hoping there wasn’t. He saw sadness come to her eyes for a moment and then it disappeared.
“Once. But not now,” she admitted. “Did you contact my charity in Manaus? Let them know I’ve been rescued?”
Josh grimaced. “The only one who knows I’ve extricated you is your father and the boys at Langley. That’s where it stays until I can get you ninety-five miles away from here where we can pick up that U.S. Navy Riverine boat.”
He was privately euphoric over the fact she didn’t have a man in her life. He felt as though he was getting sucked into her and, more surprising, he wasn’t fighting it. What was it about Aly Landon that totaled his heart?
Aly was a victim right now. She hadn’t flirted with him. She just seemed like...well...a lost little girl. Oh, she wasn’t a girl. He knew that, but every time he saw that momentary expression of utter abandonment flit across her face, those sprinkling of freckles across her nose and cheeks, it got to him. Why?
“I’m ready,” she said, tucking the wrapper in her pocket.
“How’s your throat?”
She managed a quirk of her lips. “It’s okay.”
“Wouldn’t lie to me, would you?” He grinned a little, catching her glance. A blush spread from her slender neck up into her face, emphasizing her freckles. It was then he realized she felt the connection, too. The one that sizzled, popped and throbbed between them.
“What good does it do to complain?” Her voice was stronger. Conviction settled in her eyes as she stared up at the Marine.
Josh shook his head. “Because it’s me asking, that’s why. I want to know, Aly.”
He wondered how many times in her young life had she been hurting without her father there to comfort her. To ask her if she was all right because he could see the pain mirrored in her eyes. And then, he saw her falter, her brows dip, confusion in her gaze and that soft mouth of hers parting.
