cars. I was afraid someone would take the gun out of my purse and shoot himself accidentally. Thus, no gun in my purse.”
“Do you know how to operate this, or do I need to show you?”
“I can figure it out,” she said. “Especially if my life depends on it.”
“Good. I’ll be back shortly.” He touched her hand holding the gun. “Promise not to shoot me?”
Her lips twisted. “I promise not to shoot you.”
And he left to go down into the valley and back up over the pass to see if the men who’d been following them were still on their tail.
He paused just short of the top of the ridge. Inching just to the top, he peered over to the valley below. On the valley floor, he could see the warm glow of a campfire and shadowy figures gathered around the flames.
The ISIS rebels weren’t far behind them, with only a ridge standing between them.
Jake returned to the creek, rewet the bandanna and hurried back to the cave. If the cuts and scratches on Alex’s back were deep, they could become infected and cause her a whole lot more grief if left untreated for any length of time.
They could stay the night, but they’d have to leave early the next morning, while it was still dark, to be gone before the terrorists made it up over the ridge.
When he arrived back at the cave, he eased into the darkness, searching for the woman who’d escaped the village with him. Nothing stirred. No sounds of breathing or indication that anyone was there.
His pulse sped as he switched on his flashlight, using the red lens setting, making it harder for anyone outside the cave to see but illuminating the interior up to three feet in front of him.
Where was she? Had he entered the wrong cave? Or had some of the rebel forces found their way around him and made off with the pretty teacher?
He drew in a shaking breath and whispered, “It’s me.” Then he waited, his breath lodged in his chest.
As soon as Alex heard those words, she launched herself out of her hiding place behind the giant boulders and flung her arms around Jake’s neck. “Thank God,” she said, burying her face in the front of his bulletproof vest.
He wrapped her in his embrace and held on.
In the back of Alex’s mind, she wished he didn’t have on the bulletproof vest. She would like to have felt all of his body against her, imagining its warmth pressed against her cave-chilled skin.
“Hey.” He set her at arm’s length and chuckled. “Did you think I wouldn’t come back?”
Alex shrugged, her face cast down. She didn’t want him to witness the fear in her eyes when she’d come to the conclusion he wasn’t coming back. “The thought did cross my mind, as I fumbled around in the pitch dark. When you came into the cave, I didn’t know if you were friend or foe.” She snorted. “I’d never been so happy to hear the sound of someone’s voice. You were gone for what felt like forever.”
He smoothed a loose strand of hair out of her face, brushing her cheek with his calloused thumb. “Sorry. I backtracked to see whether we are still being followed.”
She stiffened. “And?”
He drew in a deep breath and let it out. “They’re on the other side of the ridge.”
Alex’s heart rate sped up. “We should leave. Now.”
“They’ve stopped for the night. I think we’ll be all right for now, but we need to head out before daylight to stay ahead of them.”
Her brows knit. “Are you sure? I can keep going, if you can.”
He smiled. “I know you can, but we’re running on empty. At the very least, we could use some sleep.” He nodded toward her. “And we need to take care of your cuts and scratches before they get infected.”
Alex crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m fine. I can keep going.”
“I have no doubt you can, but I need the rest and I want to see your backside. You can’t ignore your injuries.” He spun his finger. “About-face.”
She hesitated. “Really—”
“I know. You’re fine. But let me be the judge. You can’t see what’s on your back, but I can.” He twirled his finger again. “Just do it. The sooner we take care of you, the sooner we sleep.”
Swallowing hard, Alex turned her back to the man who was not much more than a stranger.
He lifted the tattered remains of her shirt.
Alex held on to the front to keep it from riding up high enough to expose her breasts in the lacy white bra she wore.
When he didn’t say anything for a moment, Alex’s pulse quickened. “How bad is it?” Sure, it stung and burned every time her ruined shirt rubbed against her scratches and cuts.
“It’s not great, but the good news is that you’ll survive, as long as the wounds don’t get infected.” He pulled a wet cloth from his pocket and patted her back with it. The cloth had been warmed by his thigh, and his touch was gentle. One hand held her side, steadying her, while the other removed dirt and debris from her wounds. When he was done, he released the tattered ends of her shirt and let them fall back down over her body. “The shirt has to go.”
Heat seared a path through her, heading south to her core. “It’ll have to do for now. I don’t have another.”
Jake stepped back. “You can have mine.”
When Alex turned to face him, a protest on her lips, she stopped, her thoughts flying out of her head as Jake unclipped the fasteners on his vest and lowered it to the ground.
Her mouth went dry and her palms filled with sweat. “What are you doing?”
He smiled. “Giving you my shirt. Granted, it might be a little sweaty, but it will be better than what you have on.”
He unbuttoned his uniform jacket and slipped out of it. Then he yanked his T-shirt up over his head in one fluid, ever-so-sexy move.
He stood in front of her wearing only his trousers and boots, his broad chest shining in the dim glow of the red-lensed flashlight. The man looked like a Roman gladiator, all hard muscles, strength and magnetism.
Alex lost her ability to form thoughts and words. Her gaze swept over the massive amount of skin stretched tautly over his frame.
When he handed her his T-shirt, she gulped. Her fingers touched his and a shock of fire raced through her hand and up her arm. “Thank—” she squeaked, cleared her throat and tried again. “Thank you.”
The man turned his back to her, allowing her the privacy to shed her shredded shirt and slip the T-shirt over her head. It smelled of male, that outdoorsy scent that made her insides quiver. The fabric slid over her breasts and torso and hung down to her knees.
“I’m decent,” she said. “Thanks again.”
He turned, a smile spreading across his face. “It’s a little big.”
“But better than nothing.” She wadded the torn shirt into her fist.
“Let me have that.” He reached out for the ruined shirt.
Again her hand touched his. This time he glanced up sharply, as if he too felt the electric shock. Just as quickly, he looked back down at the fabric in his grip. “I want to bind the wounds on your hands.”
“They’ll be okay,” she said.
“You need some protection to prevent further injury to your palms if you slide down another hill.” He ripped a