Dallas could make damn near anything with his roll of silver tape.
They were, however, among the best-trained fighters in the world. It may have been a few years since their last sanctioned op, but to a man, they'd never forgotten the regimen of combat training they'd received. Training that was designed for close encounters and geared for annihilation.
And as he pressed forward through the tropical heat, Ethan had no doubt it would come to that.
Just like he had no doubt he would find Darcy.
A cold sweat layered over the thick film of perspiration already soaking his body.
Sweet Jesus God, let her be alive.
She had to be alive. The thought of her dead was agonizing.
Darcy Prescott was the most vital human being he'd ever known. Just standing next to her or lying beside her or buried deep inside the sweet silky heat of her, he'd felt more alive than he'd ever felt in his life.
He might not have been a part of her world for the past five years, but he'd always known she was alive; he'd always known where she was. It hadn't been enough, but it had been bearable. Losing her now would not be.
LIMA, PERU
EIGHT YEARS EARLIER
Ethan was barely aware of the murmur of the other members of the dinner party seated around the ambassador's dining room table. Hardly heard the laughter, the inane chatter. All the glittering jewels and designer gowns of the women in attendance were lost on him.
He heard only Darcy. Sweet Christ, she had him tied in a pretzel knot. He saw only her, in her simple black dress and wearing a simple silver chain around her neck. Saw the gentle ebb and flow of her pulse where that thin silver necklace lay against her skin. Saw the fiery sheen of her thick silky hair, the mobile fullness of her lips when she laughed or sipped delicately from her wineglass.
Every move was sexy. Every sound she made was a turn-on. And her scent. Floral but not too sweet. Fresh but not quite innocent. He'd never been so far gone on a woman so fast, never felt such immediate, gut-clenching need.
And he couldn't believe his good luck when after about an hour of carefully guarded small talk she asked, "Just how much time do you plan on spending in Lima, Lieutenant Garrett?"
His heart damn near stopped.
He had her.
Talk about a gift from the blue. He wasn't sure why, but this bright and beautiful woman was not only up to speed on his plans for her; she was also up for what he had in mind. It wasn't just the invitation in her question that told him; it was the invitation in her eyes.
Thank you, God.
He smiled into her beautiful all-American face. "How much time do I need?"
She sliced him a coy glance and lifted a water goblet to her lips.
And he almost went down in flames.
He didn't remember much of the rest of the dinner. He must have been a party to the general conversation, though, because the pompous ass on his right—an attorney on vacation from Baltimore who had wangled a dinner invitation because he was a distant relative of the naval base commander—kept peppering him with questions about the Green Berets the entire time.
Hell, it was his first decent meal in months—seven damn long courses—and he couldn't swear to eating beef or grubs.
But he did swear. Several times under his breath during the interminable two-hour meal when Darcy would smile at him a certain way and those green eyes would make promises of heaven. When his thigh "accidentally" brushed hers beneath the table his groin tightened like a fist. When their hands met, oh so briefly, the silk of her skin shot a goddamn 10,000-volt burst of electricity from his fingertips straight to his dick.
Jesus.
He'd turned into an animal in the jungle. It took every ounce of his control to keep the beast from howling at the moon and throwing the sexy redhead in the tight black dress down on the closest horizontal surface.
And wouldn't it just do
They were, however, among the best-trained fighters in the world. It may have been a few years since their last sanctioned op, but to a man, they'd never forgotten the regimen of combat training they'd received. Training that was designed for close encounters and geared for annihilation.
And as he pressed forward through the tropical heat, Ethan had no doubt it would come to that.
Just like he had no doubt he would find Darcy.
A cold sweat layered over the thick film of perspiration already soaking his body.
Sweet Jesus God, let her be alive.
She had to be alive. The thought of her dead was agonizing.
Darcy Prescott was the most vital human being he'd ever known. Just standing next to her or lying beside her or buried deep inside the sweet silky heat of her, he'd felt more alive than he'd ever felt in his life.
He might not have been a part of her world for the past five years, but he'd always known she was alive; he'd always known where she was. It hadn't been enough, but it had been bearable. Losing her now would not be.
LIMA, PERU
EIGHT YEARS EARLIER
Ethan was barely aware of the murmur of the other members of the dinner party seated around the ambassador's dining room table. Hardly heard the laughter, the inane chatter. All the glittering jewels and designer gowns of the women in attendance were lost on him.
He heard only Darcy. Sweet Christ, she had him tied in a pretzel knot. He saw only her, in her simple black dress and wearing a simple silver chain around her neck. Saw the gentle ebb and flow of her pulse where that thin silver necklace lay against her skin. Saw the fiery sheen of her thick silky hair, the mobile fullness of her lips when she laughed or sipped delicately from her wineglass.
Every move was sexy. Every sound she made was a turn-on. And her scent. Floral but not too sweet. Fresh but not quite innocent. He'd never been so far gone on a woman so fast, never felt such immediate, gut-clenching need.
And he couldn't believe his good luck when after about an hour of carefully guarded small talk she asked, "Just how much time do you plan on spending in Lima, Lieutenant Garrett?"
His heart damn near stopped.
He had her.
Talk about a gift from the blue. He wasn't sure why, but this bright and beautiful woman was not only up to speed on his plans for her; she was also up for what he had in mind. It wasn't just the invitation in her question that told him; it was the invitation in her eyes.
Thank you, God.
He smiled into her beautiful all-American face. "How much time do I need?"
She sliced him a coy glance and lifted a water goblet to her lips.
And he almost went down in flames.
He didn't remember much of the rest of the dinner. He must have been a party to the general conversation, though, because the pompous ass on his right—an attorney on vacation from Baltimore who had wangled a dinner invitation because he was a distant relative of the naval base commander—kept peppering him with questions about the Green Berets the entire time.
Hell, it was his first decent meal in months—seven damn long courses—and he couldn't swear to eating beef or grubs.
But he did swear. Several times under his breath during the interminable two-hour meal when Darcy would smile at him a certain way and those green eyes would make promises of heaven. When his thigh "accidentally" brushed hers beneath the table his groin tightened like a fist. When their hands met, oh so briefly, the silk of her skin shot a goddamn 10,000-volt burst of electricity from his fingertips straight to his dick.
Jesus.
He'd turned into an animal in the jungle. It took every ounce of his control to keep the beast from howling at the moon and throwing the sexy redhead in the tight black dress down on the closest horizontal surface.
And wouldn't it just do
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