Page 21 of Her Reluctant Hero
“Do we need to be quiet? Are they close?” She eased closer to him, regretting that her temper overcame her sense of survival.
His shoulders relaxed a bit. “I haven’t seen any sign.”
She fell back, allowing more space between them. “So we can talk.”
“I don’t want to talk.”
“I got that. But I want to know about her. You miss her.”
He didn’t say anything.
“Where does she live? Where you live? Do you live together?”
He whipped around. “Goddess, as far as I’m concerned, you’re the enemy. I’m not telling you anything about my private life.”
She shut out the pain that his words caused. “Not that you have one or anything, what with trekking through jungles all over the world.”
He stiffened. She didn’t know if it was the private-life comment or…
“I hate jungles.” He stalked off.
A few hours later—God knew how long they’d been walking. The trees were so thick, it could be broad daylight but they’d never know it—Shepard signaled for her to stop again.
“What?” she whispered, right up behind him, and he glared.
Okay, so she’d be quiet. Except the need to be quiet meant danger. Her heart pounded and she wouldn’t have been able to hear him if he did speak to her.
Now what?
“Village,” he finally said, so low, she mostly just read his lips.
Her heart filled with dread. If Santiago’s men had been here first, she couldn’t handle seeing that carnage again.
“Not dead,” Shepard said in that less-than whisper.
How did he know? But she allowed herself a small measure of relief at his words.
Then he was dropping his pack to the ground and motioned for her to have a seat on a fallen log. “We wait here till dawn.”
Alex couldn’t make any headway with the chief of the village. He wanted information and he wanted supplies, but either the man didn’t understand Alex’s admittedly choppy Spanish or he didn’t like the fact that an American soldier had been waiting at the edge of his village at daybreak. Not that Alex could blame him.
The man stood stubbornly despite Alex’s bargaining, cajoling, doing damn near everything but begging.
He stomped back to Isabella’s side, disgusted.
“What is it you want from him?” she asked wearily.
The woman was so tired she could barely stand, and he couldn’t get his mind off her mangled feet. Both issues were in the forefront of his mind as he spoke to the chief, and probably his frustration had mangled his message. “Best case? Transportation. Failing that, some supplies to replenish what we’ve used. I hadn’t counted on hiking two of us out on the supplies I had.” He’d given her his last power bar this morning. Hunger didn’t improve his mood.
“Okay.” She gave him the gun he’d let her carry so he would appear less threatening. She stepped back, bent her head and shook her hair loose. Then she straightened and scooped it back into a ponytail. Smoothing her palms down the front of her filthy T-shirt, she squared her shoulders and sauntered toward the chief.
As best she could on those bad feet, anyway.
While Alex watched, she moved in close to the chief. She tucked a stray dark curl behind her ear, tilted her head one way, her hip another. She smiled, her eyes bright with it, her whole face transforming to something even more beautiful, despite her lack of makeup and her exhaustion. The chief asked her something about being a captive, but she only laughed, letting her head fall back, exposing the line of her throat. Alex was riveted to the sight of her long neck, even ringed as it was with dirt.
The chief was riveted too.
She said something to him and he replied in rapid-fire Spanish. Isabella gave him all her attention, watching him, nodding, touching his arm.
