reared its ugly head. He couldn’t mean what she thought he meant. “What are you saying?”
He didn’t bother to explain. Instead he stood up briefly, hitched his rifle high over his head and waved it in some sort of silent signal.
“No,” she said, hoping he hadn’t done what she thought he had. “Don’t do that!”
“Come on,” he said tightly, dragging her off to the right, deeper into the shadows.
Lisa looked back as the helicopter lifted off, taking her only means of escape with it.
Two
Travis kept a tight hold on the woman’s hand and ran for it. He could only hope that their pursuers were still far enough away that some fast running and clever hiding would do the trick. If they could get gone quick enough, the men still firing rifles at a now-disappearing chopper, would assume that their prey had escaped in that helicopter. If he could get the woman stumbling along behind him to shut up and move. As he’d already learned, that was no easy task.
“Are you out of your mind?” she demanded.
He had to give her credit. Even in her fury, she kept her voice low enough that it wouldn’t carry across the desert.
“It’s been said,” he agreed, darting a quick look back over his shoulder. No pursuit yet. Good. Keep moving, he told himself.
“You waved them off,” she continued, stunned disbelief coloring her voice. “I saw you. The helicopter was there. They were waiting for us. Our only escape and you waved them off!”
He shot her a glare that would have terrified a lesser woman. Naturally, it didn’t have the slightest effect on the one woman he wanted it to.
“You’re insane,” she muttered.
“I’m startin’ to agree with you,” he snapped. Who else but a crazy man would volunteer for such a mission? He could have been on leave back home. Of course, then his sisters would have been ragging on him. But at least they were family. “Now shut the hell up and follow me.”
“Like I have a choice,” she managed to say breathlessly.
They kept going, and one part of Travis’s mind gave quiet thanks for the terrain. This wasn’t the kind of desert that you found out in the middle of the Mojave. The real desert was farther out. This area was more like the landscape that he grew up with back in Texas. Sand, sure, but more rocky. With clumps of bushes and a few sparse but hardy trees. A ring of low-lying hills, which probably passed for mountains around here, surrounded them, and he was hoping to find refuge there.
The darkness was their friend.
They could lose themselves in the night and hopefully, before dawn, they’d be huddled in a cave somewhere and he’d have a chance to think of alternate escape plans. While he ran, making sure the princess was keeping up with him, his mind worked the problem. He had water. And rations. And a radio and weapons. He could do this. They could do this.
It was just going to take some creativity. Adapting and overcoming. Hell, he’d been trained for just this sort of thing. And damned if he wasn’t going to pull it off.
“Come on,” he urged quietly. “Just keep moving and everything’ll work out.”
“Like it has so far?” she wondered aloud.
He threw one look at the star-studded sky and silently asked, Why me? And more important, Why her? This would have been a helluva lot easier if he’d just been asked to rescue a reasonable person. But this woman had been trouble from the get-go, and he suspected that it wasn’t going to get much better.
They walked for hours, until Lisa was ready to throw dignity to the wind and beg the guy in charge of this little forced march for a rest. But she doubted he would even hear her. Long accustomed to the darkness, she had no trouble seeing him clearly. Tall and rangy, he moved effortlessly across the rocky ground. He never seemed to get tired. He never let go of her hand, and his gaze continually scanned their surroundings, constantly on alert. His profile was sharp, dangerous looking, without an ounce of softness in it. The camouflage paint only made him look scarier—more remote. His jaw was hard and square and his nose had obviously been broken at least once…. Her sympathies were entirely with the breaker not the breakee. She hadn’t had a good look at his eyes yet, but she had the distinct feeling they’d be all business, no matter the color.
Well, if she had to be stranded in the middle of nothing, she told herself, it was better to be with a man so clearly equipped to handle it. A stray notion shot through her mind and she laughed shortly at the thought of her last fiancé trying to survive out here. James hadn’t been able to hail a cab in Manhattan successfully.
“Was that a laugh?” he asked, slowing his steps.
Grateful, Lisa slowed down, too, and instantly felt her calf muscles cramp. She winced, nodded and admitted, “Yes, I laughed. Maybe I’m hysterical.”
“Swell.”
She looked up at him. Darn him, anyway, he wasn’t even winded. “I’m kidding,” she said, then added, “I think.”
Releasing her hand, he gave her a long, thoughtful look, swung his pack to the ground and said, “Sit for a few minutes. Take a breather.”
“Oh, thank heaven,” she muttered, and dropped like a stone. Then she had to shift slightly to inch off the stone she’d landed on. Perfect. Well, why shouldn’t her behind ache as much as every other spot on her body?
“Here,” he said, handing her a beige, flask-shaped canteen. “Have a drink. Not much, though. I’ve only got two and they’ve got to last us.”
Lisa nodded, too tired to argue, which was saying something, she supposed. Unscrewing the cap, she lifted the canteen and took one big mouthful of warm, wet, wonderful water. Then she swallowed, letting the liquid slide down her throat like a blessing, before handing the canteen back. She hadn’t even realized just how thirsty she was. And right now, the metallic-flavored water tasted better than the finest bottle of wine.
Now that they’d stopped running, the cold night air had caught up with her. She shivered and clapped her hands to her upper arms, rubbing them up and down, trying to create some warmth. Funny how running and being terrified will keep you all toasty.
“Cold?”
She nodded.
He shrugged the small pack off his back and swung it to the ground. Then, setting his gun to one side, he quickly undid the buttons on his sand-colored uniform shirt and pulled it off, revealing a Marine-green T-shirt that looked as though it had been molded to his brawny chest.
“You don’t have to do that,” she said, both grateful and embarrassed to be taking the shirt off his back.
“Just put it on, princess.”
Well, so much for gratitude. She snatched the shirt out of his hands and shoved her arms into the long sleeves. The cuffs hung well past her wrists, to flop over the edge of her fingertips. But it was warm—the fabric still held a touch of his body heat along with his scent.
He stood up
