smile that sliced right into his heart. She reached out, cupping his cheek. Raven buried his face in her soft palm as the pressure in his chest built. Her other hand came up and stroked his hair back off his face.
“I’m not going to let that bastard make me explode. Got that, Jon Raven? The only person allowed to make me explode, and in the future I’ll use that term with all due seriousness, is you.” She stroked his hair, his cheek, her heart in her eyes.
His throat ached. Jesus, Dani—
“You still take my breath away,” she admitted, touching the corner of his mouth. “I—I want to tell you something before. . .just in case. . .I mean, if—”
Raven silenced her by pressing two fingers to her lips. “There’ll be plenty of time for this later. Let’s book so I can call my contact and resolve this once and for all.” He started the truck and backed out onto the road, cracking the window open once they started moving, to dissipate the fog on the inside of the glass. For a moment, he was back in his first car, out on lover’s lane, looking through the steamed rear window.
Danica finished straightening her clothes, moved the guns, and slid across the seat to tuck herself against his side, despite the stifling heat. Raven looped an arm about her shoulders and drew her hard against him, resting his fingers lightly on the pulse at the base of her throat as he drove.
Dense jungle eventually gave way to the poverty-stricken outskirts of San Cristóbal proper as the sun rose higher in the sky, heralding another hotter-than-hell day in paradise. The smoky smell of open fires mingled with the scent of spicy foods as Jon steered the truck into a rutted parking spot in front of a corner service station. A decades-old telephone booth stood guard over the antiquated pumps beneath a tattered awning.
He placed one of the guns on the seat next to her. “Shoot anyone who isn’t me.”
“That’s a little drastic, isn’t it? What if it’s someone who has nothing to do with—?”
“Then we’ll apologize profusely.” He made her pick up the weapon. “Here. Safety’s off. Point and shoot.” He hopped out of the truck, locked and slammed the door, and jogged over to the booth. Danica watched him through the grimy windshield as he made his call.
The interior of the truck was sweltering, and she prayed there wasn’t a temperature-sensitive component to the thing in her head. Absently, she brushed hair away from her face, lifting it off her neck in an attempt to let the pitiful breeze cool her flushed skin. A bite on her neck itched like crazy, and she reached up to rub at it. Her fingers moved across the small bump that had been driving her nuts for days. A small—minute actually—welt just behind her ear. Could it be. . .? Grabbing the rearview mirror, she folded her ear down and tilted her head in an attempt to examine the spot.
All she saw was what looked like a pinprick.
“We’re positive she’s wearing the chip,” Donovan had said. “My man detected it behind her right ear when you were picked up.” Danica felt sick to her stomach as she moved her fingers gently around the slight bump.
Fear welled inside her, mixing with the annoyance, frustration, and other emotions threatening to erupt at any moment. Jon’s call continued. He vacillated between periods of animated hand gestures and attentive listening. What was taking so long? Maybe there wasn’t a way to get this thing out of her. Oh, God! Maybe Donovan was telling the truth. Maybe—
A bullet shattered the windshield, sending a rain of safety glass pellets into her lap and eliciting a loud shriek of surprise from her. She ducked down low. Damn it to hell-
“Jon!”
Ten
B efore Donovan’s man took his first shot, Raven was sprinting across the weed-infested parking lot toward Dani-running interference between their truck and that of Donovan and his men.
Everything happened in slow-mo-the windshield shattering, bullets freaking flying,
“I’m not going to let that bastard make me explode. Got that, Jon Raven? The only person allowed to make me explode, and in the future I’ll use that term with all due seriousness, is you.” She stroked his hair, his cheek, her heart in her eyes.
His throat ached. Jesus, Dani—
“You still take my breath away,” she admitted, touching the corner of his mouth. “I—I want to tell you something before. . .just in case. . .I mean, if—”
Raven silenced her by pressing two fingers to her lips. “There’ll be plenty of time for this later. Let’s book so I can call my contact and resolve this once and for all.” He started the truck and backed out onto the road, cracking the window open once they started moving, to dissipate the fog on the inside of the glass. For a moment, he was back in his first car, out on lover’s lane, looking through the steamed rear window.
Danica finished straightening her clothes, moved the guns, and slid across the seat to tuck herself against his side, despite the stifling heat. Raven looped an arm about her shoulders and drew her hard against him, resting his fingers lightly on the pulse at the base of her throat as he drove.
Dense jungle eventually gave way to the poverty-stricken outskirts of San Cristóbal proper as the sun rose higher in the sky, heralding another hotter-than-hell day in paradise. The smoky smell of open fires mingled with the scent of spicy foods as Jon steered the truck into a rutted parking spot in front of a corner service station. A decades-old telephone booth stood guard over the antiquated pumps beneath a tattered awning.
He placed one of the guns on the seat next to her. “Shoot anyone who isn’t me.”
“That’s a little drastic, isn’t it? What if it’s someone who has nothing to do with—?”
“Then we’ll apologize profusely.” He made her pick up the weapon. “Here. Safety’s off. Point and shoot.” He hopped out of the truck, locked and slammed the door, and jogged over to the booth. Danica watched him through the grimy windshield as he made his call.
The interior of the truck was sweltering, and she prayed there wasn’t a temperature-sensitive component to the thing in her head. Absently, she brushed hair away from her face, lifting it off her neck in an attempt to let the pitiful breeze cool her flushed skin. A bite on her neck itched like crazy, and she reached up to rub at it. Her fingers moved across the small bump that had been driving her nuts for days. A small—minute actually—welt just behind her ear. Could it be. . .? Grabbing the rearview mirror, she folded her ear down and tilted her head in an attempt to examine the spot.
All she saw was what looked like a pinprick.
“We’re positive she’s wearing the chip,” Donovan had said. “My man detected it behind her right ear when you were picked up.” Danica felt sick to her stomach as she moved her fingers gently around the slight bump.
Fear welled inside her, mixing with the annoyance, frustration, and other emotions threatening to erupt at any moment. Jon’s call continued. He vacillated between periods of animated hand gestures and attentive listening. What was taking so long? Maybe there wasn’t a way to get this thing out of her. Oh, God! Maybe Donovan was telling the truth. Maybe—
A bullet shattered the windshield, sending a rain of safety glass pellets into her lap and eliciting a loud shriek of surprise from her. She ducked down low. Damn it to hell-
“Jon!”
Ten
B efore Donovan’s man took his first shot, Raven was sprinting across the weed-infested parking lot toward Dani-running interference between their truck and that of Donovan and his men.
Everything happened in slow-mo-the windshield shattering, bullets freaking flying,
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