Hush by Cherry Adair

was looking, then rummaged around in yet another hidden pocket on the thigh of her voluminous cargo pants. This one revealed a flip-top plastic container.
    â€œGot a cold beer in there?” Christ. Wouldn’t surprise him. If he hadn’t been familiar with the SCOTTeVEST outfit she wore, he would’ve sworn she didn’t even have a pocket on her.
    â€œThe alcohol wouldn’t be good for us in this heat, even if I had a six-pack stashed in my pants. Besides,” she added, “I’ve seen you after a few drinks. You need all your common sense, sorry.”
    His gut clenched. She’d seen a lot more of him than somewhat drunk. “Jesus,” he said flatly. “Is it always about sex with you? I thought the pole dancer shit was BS.”
    Her eyes, so velvety and gray that any idiot would want to wrap himself in their warmth, opened wide. “You really do have sex on the brain, don’t you?” She sighed, like some kind of put-upon schoolteacher. “It’s the tropical climate, don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll have plenty of other issues to fill your every waking moment soon. Like staying alive.”
    She held out the container. “Another mint? Three’s our limit until we know … until we get out there and know what we’re dealing with.”
    â€œSure, General.” Zak held out his hand, filthy and still bleeding from the paper-cut-like lacerations he’d sustained from the sharp grasses and leaves en route.
    So were hers. But she hadn’t said a word. She would, soon enough. Oh, she wouldn’t whine, he figured. The smart ones rarely did. Jennifer had used to have fainting down to an art form. She’d “fainted” to get them a room at a fully booked hotel in Peru, and pretended she was pregnant when she wanted to get into the shade the time they’d gone sand-boarding in Gharb Soheil. The situation hadn’t even had to be dire. If Jen wanted something, she used theatrics to get it. Zak had never known what was real and what was faked. He’d eventually stopped trying.
    He knew unequivocally that Acadia would eventually pull the weaker-sex card in ways that would tie a man up six ways from Sunday, and with such innocence he’d convince himself he was a fucking abusive brute. Fortunately for him, the blinders had come off years ago. “Fool me once” and all that crap. Been there, done that.
    She shook a tiny mint onto his palm. Zak put it in his mouth. “They didn’t search you?” he asked around the cooling tab.
    She wiggled her eyebrows. “I’m blond and female in a male-dominated country. Who wouldn’t trust this face?” She opened her eyes wide and batted her long lashes.
    Same crap Jen used to pull , Zak thought with knee-jerk irritation. Depending on her femininity and beauty to pay her way. The difference was that there was humor behind Acadia’s statement. Jennifer had had no sense of humor—it had taken him years to realize that.
    Looking at Acadia’s angelic features, soft blond hair and smokin’ hot body, anyone would trust her. Until they saw the devil in those soft gray eyes. Just like he’d done the night before. Despite her stripper claims and the wild implications that she was a hell of a lot more experienced than she had actually turned out to be, he’d been intrigued enough to test the boundaries.
    He had to admit, it had been so worth it. Right up until morning, when real life had come crashing right back down around his ears.
    And hers, this time.
    Acadia curled her slender fingers around one of the bars. In the same way as she’d wrapped them around his—
    Zak pulled his mind back from that visceral memory and glanced over at the shack where Gideon was being held. He couldn’t see him; he’d probably gone to lie down on that hard cement ledge. Smart move, but atypical of his brother, who never sat down if he could