That had Hunter wishing he was home with his family. His wolf pack celebrated the holidays like many packs did, although some years in the past he’d been on missions with his team. Christmas was only a couple of weeks away, and he looked forward to spending his first Christmas with Tessa and helping her decorate for the holidays. Finn and his sister had now become mates, so it would also be their first Christmas together. With Bjornolf and Anna sticking around? It would be a real SEAL holiday.
Using a machete, Hunter whacked through the thick foliage impeding their way, creating a narrow path through the jungle that would be swallowed up again soon, as if the humans hadn’t passed this way. Black howler monkeys called to each other, grew quiet as they listened for return calls, then howled again.
As daylight broke, the heat quickly elevated, and the buzz of winged insects filled the air. Thousands of cicadas added their noisy songs, the jungle sounds intruding on Hunter’s thoughts of hearth and home. As he and his team traveled through the dense jungle, Hunter cut through thick vines and branches, while he kept feeling as though someone was following them. The family stumbled over roots, the mother sobbed once, but the rescue team moved silently like wolves in a territory not usually their own. This was jaguar land.
Anna’s warning bird call sounded. Hunter stopped the group and waited, protectively shielding the party as Bjornolf lurched forward.
Remembering he had the girl on his back, he stopped long enough for the uncle to take hold of her before Bjornolf charged forth to rescue Anna again.
Chapter 4
When Bjornolf reached Anna at a low crouch behind a bank of ferns, he found her safe, his own heart hammering with worry for her. He tried to catch his breath as he drew close to her to see what she was observing.
She bowed her head in greeting as his arm brushed against hers, having to touch her like a wolf would and have the reassurance she truly was all right before he looked further into the matter that had concerned her.
Two men were attempting to drag a young native boy of maybe eight or nine with them. The kid was kicking and hitting and biting. She motioned to Bjornolf that she wanted him to draw the men’s attention so she could take them out and the boy could get away. “Involved with Wentworths,” she whispered.
One of the men said to the other in Spanish, “Where the hell are the Wentworths? I thought we were supposed to be done with this business by now. And be paid. Get that kid out of here.”
Bjornolf was planning on being the one to attack the men—and keep one of them alive for questioning—while Anna drew their attention instead, but before he could do anything, the men slapped at their necks, released the boy, and collapsed in dead heaps on the ground. The boy glanced in Anna and Bjornolf’s direction, gave them a big smile and a wave, then tore off into the jungle.
“Shit,” Bjornolf said under his breath.
“What just happened?” Anna whispered to Bjornolf. “I thought we could wound one and question him.”
“Poisoned darts, hunters, natives in the area,” he whispered into her ear. He jerked his head toward the path he’d taken, telling her that they needed to get back to the team.
She nodded, thanking him silently, but he could tell she was just as disappointed as he was that they couldn’t have learned more from these men—now that they needed to question them concerning what the Wentworths were up to, and not just eliminate the threat.
Bjornolf admired her for attempting to rescue the boy and alerting the team for help, not jumping in to do this by herself. It showed a side of her that she tried to hide behind her camouflaged suit of armor. He swore she flushed a little under all that camo paint when the boy smiled and waved at her.
Sighing, he hated leaving her to continue to provide security for the team, hated that every time he thought she might be in danger, his heart would nearly stop. Everyone had a mission on the team. For now, his was transporting the little girl. He still didn’t like that he’d have to let Anna fend for herself, no matter how good she was at her job.
When he returned to the group, Hunter gave him a quizzical look. Bjornolf couldn’t tell him in front of the family how they had overheard that the men knew something about the Wentworth’s kidnapping. Bjornolf instead gave Hunter a thumbs-up, and he took the girl in his arms again. First chance they had, either he or Anna would let Hunter know what had happened.
The team traveled with the family for four more days through the jungle in the same manner as before—sleeping with guards posted, eating and drinking all together, and keeping a low profile. At the end of the fourth day, they reached the outskirts of a village and, before anyone saw them, they scrubbed the camo paint off of each other with soap and water from a nearby river, not wanting to give the villagers the impression that they might be trouble.
Anna smiled when Elsie scrubbed the paint off Bjornolf’s face, dragging a wet soapy cloth this way and that over his skin. He exaggerated his expressions of pain and surprise, groaning and moaning, making Elsie giggle. He caught Anna’s gaze and grinned at her. Leaving the girl to her mother, Bjornolf advanced on Anna.
As he closed in on her with a feral gray wolf’s heated look, she felt her body temperature elevate in the steamy heat.
“You didn’t quite get all your makeup off,” he said, pulling a cloth out of his sack and soaking it with a container of soapy water. He stood too close—way too close.
She gave him a skeptical look, not wanting to believe him, but since she didn’t have a mirror, she wasn’t certain. The parents were washing their kids’ faces and Wentworth’s brother was working on his own, but her team watched Bjornolf as he washed her face.
Feeling her cheeks heat, she folded her arms and silently entreated him to hurry it up.
But he didn’t. He took his time wiping every inch of her face, her lips, her ears, and neck so gently, she didn’t think he could have removed anything.
When he was done, she said, “Let me see the cloth.”
His eyes widened a bit. “You don’t trust me?” he asked with feigned innocence.
She knew he was all pretend when he was balking at showing her the cloth. She stretched out her hand, raised her brows, and waited.
He let out an exaggerated sigh and handed the cloth to her. “See, what did I tell you?”
A faint green cast covered a section of the white cloth, and one dark brown smudge colored another spot. This time she sighed audibly. “Thanks. Good job.”
“You’ve got to learn to trust your partner,” he said.
She looked at him, trying to read the meaning behind his words. She swore he was trying to tell her something.
The show over, Hunter moved the group through the village to a couple of cabanas that he had rented—all the buildings decked out in Christmas lights, decorated Christmas trees sitting in front of some of the windows. Despite the Christmas decorations, the jungle atmosphere reminded them they were still far from home.
“Anna, you’ll stay with the mother and the kids tonight. Paul, Allan, the two of you also. The Wentworth brothers will stay with Bjornolf, Finn, and me,” Hunter said. “Better protection for all concerned.”
“I want to stay with my wife,” Wentworth said, looking cross and obviously used to getting his way.
“Sorry, Mr. Wentworth,” Hunter said, his tone curt, not the least bit sorry. “You’re under my orders until we drop you off safely at the embassy. After that, it’s your decision.”
“Honey, do as he says,” his wife said as she held her kids’ hands. “They got us this far without any of us being hurt.”
He gave her a murderous look. Anna saw a flicker of relief on the woman’s face when her husband didn’t get his way.
Hunter was clearly giving Anna a chance to question the mother without the husband being present. Paul and Allan slid looks in Bjornolf’s direction. His expression was neutral, but he was totally annoyed. Bjornolf couldn’t stop thinking about staying with Anna at the hut, and he definitely didn’t like the idea of being in a separate cabana away from her. All his protective instincts were on overdrive.
He loathed the idea of Anna being out of his sight, and that was beginning to annoy him, too. Bjornolf thought of himself as a quintessential loner, and now he was anticipating a mission with a partner. If that wasn’t bad enough, the partner was someone he was getting way too personally interested in.
Before bedding down for the night, Hunter sent Bjornolf and Anna to buy meals from a local eatery. The owner of the cabanas had recommended three of them. Eating at the others was at the customers’ risk. They chose one that looked a little less rustic than the others. Small wooden tables filled a flagstone patio surrounded by rough, yellow stone walls topped with white Christmas lights. More lights wound around vines and hanging plants, while the smell of arepas wafted outside. Friendly chatter and the clinking of bottles of beer filled the air. Chickens clucked and pecked at bugs scurrying around on the pavers. A donkey brayed in the distance—adding to the South American– style holiday ambience.
Anna surveyed the surrounding area again, watching for any sign of danger while they waited for their meals. Bjornolf caught Anna looking at him, which made him smile a little. Garbed in civilian clothes to fit in with the other tourists, Anna wore a jungle-print, see-through blouse over a green tank top. A pair of black jeans and heeled boots were a lot sexier than the combat ones she’d had on, though he knew she could use those boots as weapons. He had to admit anything she wore looked damned good on her. She appeared as beautiful as the colorful birds and flowers of the jungle, he thought.
She quickly looked at the patrons again. Like any good operative, she’d been observing the patrons as well as the jungle. When their gazes collided, he watched her cheeks flush. All fresh and clean, she fairly sparkled. Her auburn hair hung in damp curls around her face, her green eyes widened a bit when Bjornolf continued to look at her, taking her in, every delicious part of her.
He’d never seen her dress in anything but camouflaged clothes, or on that last mission when he’d first run into her—close-fitting black for cat burglar–type operations—so this was a new look for him. The colors were still dark, but he couldn’t pass up another look at the sheer blouse that hinted at a playful suggestiveness. She might not be suggesting anything, but he liked to believe she was teasing him a bit.