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Right, like seeing his ass and groin stretching the tight cotton fabric was going to ease anything. In fact, she had a feeling it would only make her want to strip that last bit of clothing off, even more.
Booker took her silence as permission to continue, quickly shucking his clothes then hanging them on one of the other crates. Not that they’d fully dry, but it was better than leaving them in a heap on the ground. Then, he turned and started scrounging through his pack. Removing a bunch of items along with that ridiculously thin survival blanket.
He sighed, laying some of the pictures on the floor. “These photos are ruined. Most likely the recorder, too, though, Wyatt and his brainy IT mind might recover something. But at least the camera Charlie got you was waterproof. I swear the guy thinks of every scenario. Creepy, really.”
Callie stripped down to her bra and panties, shivering when the wind whipped through the holes in the boarded-over window. “I just hope it’s enough because we really could have used those photos and the crappy splicing job to seal the fucker’s fate.”
He glanced over his shoulder, pausing to give her a thorough once-over, before winking. “It definitely would have helped… Luckily for you, I recorded the entire exchange on my phone.”
“You what?” She closed the distance, crowding him when he simply stood there, smirking. “Booker, I’m serious!”
“So am I.” He grabbed the phone he’d placed on the crate beside his clothes. “Assuming the damn thing still works after all that time in the river…”
Callie held her breath as he activated the app, then played the recording. The voices were tinny, slightly muffled, and the battery died before they got all the way through, but it was enough to soothe her doubts. Though, just hearing how breathy she’d sounded…
Not quite scared but definitely upset. And she had been. Discovering Keith had actually ordered mercenaries to kill her…
Booker sighed, then hugged her against him, pressing her head into the crook of his shoulder while he palmed the small of her back. Protecting her against whatever he’d been worried was bouncing around in her head. Maybe another PTSD moment, like she’d had in the chopper. Not that she’d realized he’d noticed. Though, looking back, it had been foolish to think he hadn’t.
“Breathe, sweetheart. It’s all going to be okay.”
She wrapped her arms around his back, allowing him to shoulder some of the strain. Even if it was only for a moment. “I thought that’s what people said when things got desperate.”
“We’re in a shack in the middle of the rainforest, with a squad of armed drug cartel hunting us down, and a tropical storm raging around us. I’m sure that level of desperation will eventually crop up.”
She laughed. God, she was crazy about the guy. Not just because he looked like sin. It was how he knew exactly what to say to ease the tension. Make her believe they really would come out of this mess in one piece. How he’d been willing to die in order to save her. He hadn’t said it, but she hadn’t missed the way he’d blocked her from any possible hits while racing through the jungle. Then, he’d followed her down a damn mudslide without knowing if the ride would kill him before dragging her ass out of the river.
The guy was incredible, and she wasn’t sure she’d be able to hold back telling him how she felt much longer. That she’d been falling for him long before they’d finally gotten a taste of what it could be like between them that one night. How she’d been in limbo this past year, waiting. Hoping they might get one more chance.
That she was pretty sure this was that once-in-a-lifetime love she’d heard about.
Booker gave her a squeeze. “Let’s get comfy. Warm up. Then, we can take stock. Spend some time finding our location on the map. Thankfully, it’s waterproof, too.”
“Does it have a built-inyou-are-herefeature? Because I’m not sure I even know what direction north is.”
“That way.” He thumbed toward the door, the ass. As if he actually knew.
“Booker...”
“Pilot. Trust me. I’ll find our location on the map.”
“Okay,Indie. Give it your best shot.”
“Brat. Warmth, first. Then the map. And no funny business. You promised you’d cook me bacon after I had my way with you, and I don’t compromise when there’s bacon at stake.”
CHAPTER9
Booker leanedagainst the wall as Callie drifted in and out of sleep in his arms, her body snugged into his. All that smooth skin pressed against him. She’d passed out minutes after joining him on the crate, the obvious adrenaline dump sucking out the last of her strength. Unlike him.
He was wired. Borderline twitchy. But not because of the firefight or the subsequent chase. Even the trip down the embankment and along the river wasn’t behind his increased breath or how his pulse tapped wildly beneath his skin.
It was her. Calliope Jensen. Special Agent, and the woman he wasn’t sure he could live without.
Not that this realization was an epiphany. He’d suspected all along she was the reason he hadn’t moved on. Hadn’t started dating once he’d been healed enough to think about the future. She’d stolen his heart that night in Virginia, and he hadn’t been ready to ask for it back. Reclaim it.
Spending the past two days with her had made him acutely aware that he didn’t want it back.
Callie mumbled something in her sleep, her lips pursing into a frown. He gave her a light squeeze, and dropped a kiss on her head, smiling when she settled. As if he was enough to keep the nightmares at bay.
