Page 33 of Risky Passion

More bullets zipped past. Two splashed into the water around me. The crocodile's evil eyes flashed in my memory, its teeth gleaming.

Fuck it. I'll take my chances with the shirtless stranger.

I grabbed his hand, and his grip was iron-strong as he yanked mefrom the water with shocking force. My feet had barely touched solid ground when gunfire erupted behind us.

"Run!" he shouted.

Terror clawed through me as I bolted, crashing through the underbrush with him behind me. The dog took the lead like a living shadow, guiding us through the maze of shrubs. My legs burned, my waterlogged clothes dragging me down with each step. My mind was mush, unable to process anything.

Behind us, the Filipino voices faded into the cacophony of birds and insects, but gunfire still crackled through the air.

My adrenaline crashed, leaving me gasping. "I . . . I need a break."

“Keep going.” He grabbed my hand.

I howled, yanking it free. "I dislocated my finger," I choked out.

"Shit, sorry. Just a bit farther. We need to put some distance between us and those assholes."

He held out his hand and I gripped his palm with my good hand. "Who are you?"

"Jaxson. Jaxson Foster."

Jaxson? From Rosebud Police Station? Recognition hit me. Whisper had pointed him out at last year's Christmas party: beer in hand, laughing at some joke, relaxed in worn jeans and a faded shirt. That Jaxson had been casual. This version before me now, half-naked, mud-streaked, and armed, was a far cry from the man I remembered. Every line of his muscular body screamed military precision, yet there was something untamed in his movements, as though he belonged here in this wild place.

"And that's Onyx, my K9," he added, nodding toward the dog, who was watching me with her ears twitching like she was trying to figure out if I was a friend or someone she should sink her teeth into.

"How did you find me?" I asked, my voice shaky as I straightened slightly, trying to get a better look at him.

"Got lucky, that's for sure."

"But how—" My lungs burned with every word as my legs wobbled beneath me. "Jaxson. I have to stop."

I wrenched my hand free, doubling over again as I gasped for air, my chest heaving.

He stepped closer, resting a steady hand on my back. His touch was firm, grounding me. “You okay?”

I sucked in a ragged breath, then another. “Yes. I guess. No. Not really.”

“I have to say, I wasn’t sure I’d find you alive.” His voice softened, an edge of relief in it.

I forced myself upright, shaking my head. “I nearly wasn’t.”

Every memory seemed to hit me at once: the plane crash, the crocodile attack, those bastards shooting at me. I glanced at him, squinting through the haze of exhaustion. Even in my rattled state, I couldn’t help but notice the way his muscles flexed beneath mud-streaked skin. And he carried himself with manly confidence that felt both reassuring and intimidating.

My cheeks flushed, and heat rose inside me despite my wet uniform clinging to my skin. “Umm . . . where are your clothes?”

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest, and the deep sound was unexpected and genuine, catching me off-guard. “I was about to swim down to your plane when I heard gunshots and screaming. Didn’t exactly have time to get dressed.”

“Oh.” I blinked at him, trying to process everything. “That screaming wasn’t me. One of them got taken by a massive croc.”

He cocked his head, and his brow furrowed. “Shit. Lucky it wasn’t you.”

Onyx let out a low, rumbling growl. Her body tensed, and her ears pinned forward like a radar locking onto a target. Jaxson’s expression shifted in an instant, the easy humor vanishing. He raised his gun and stepped in front of me as a shield.

“Oh God,” I whispered, dread curling in my chest. “They’re still chasing me, aren’t they?”

“Looks like it.” His voice was calm but edged with steel.

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