Holiday Op

Chapter Three

Lou took point of the four-man team, leading the way through the thick trees. Radio controller Sergeant Eric Wise fell in behind Lou. Sergeant Dean Richards brought up the rear making sure the enemy didn't engage. Even with the woven canopy of branches and leaves, rain pelted them. Mitch followed Allie making sure she didn't fall. Bare feet made her slip and slide through the torrential downpour. Though she didn't complain, the wooded terrain and underbrush attacked her feet. He shifted his weapon to hang easily accessible across his chest. Matching her shorter strides, he strode beside her just in time to catch her when her foot caught on a root.

"Thank you,” she managed to whisper.

"Not a problem, ma'am.” He scooped an arm under her knees and wrapped the other around her waist, tugging her against his weapon and his chest. She gasped. Both arms laced around his neck as if frightened he'd drop her. A smile threatened his lips, but he swallowed it. He bench-pressed three times her weight. There was no way he'd drop something as light as this hot morsel. Awareness of her feminine essence captivated his system. Cradled in his arms was a temptation he struggled inwardly to resist. Visions of her naked bottom flashed behind his eyes as he readjusted his grip. Thinking of her like that was wrong. He reprimanded his libido to back down, took a breath and forced a natural even tone. “We've a long distance to cover. It's too difficult to do without shoes and keep pace."

"I…” The retort stopped dead in her throat.

"You managed about a quarter mile barefoot. Leave the rest to me."

As if she'd accepted her fate as his burden to carry, she leaned into him no longer fighting the predicament. He sensed her exhaustion as she lowered her head onto his shoulder and closed her eyes. Dean whipped out a neatly folded, camouflaged rain poncho from his side pack pocket.

"This might help warm her some.” He draped it over her like a blanket, tucking it in around her.

Each tuck of the poncho tightened her presence in his arms. His intent had been simply to increase their pace and alleviate any further damage to her feet. The discomfort in his chest had nothing to do with the dig of his weapon into his flesh and everything to do with the woman in his arms.

"You done?” Mitch stated in a point-blank tone.

"Thank you,” Allie mumbled from beneath the cocoon of rain-resistant nylon.

"You're welcome, ma'am.” Dean touched the brim of his combat helmet, shot Mitch a raised eyebrow told-you-so look, then fell into place guarding the rear.

Hours passed and the rain didn't let up. He was grateful for the unusual warmth in the late November climate. Otherwise, no matter what gear they wore, they'd be fighting hypothermia. Clutching her close, Mitch forged through the woods and, along with his men, kept moving south at a steady pace. With the persistent downfall, the odds of flash floods in this region increased. The trek to the Imjin River consisted of miles of treacherous terrain downhill. During the rainy season, the river was prone to torrential currents yet it would provide their greatest chance of escape. It had been their main entrance into North Korea without being seen and if luck remained at his side, it'd be their exit without incident.

Crossing the DMZ-demilitarized zone-and entering Yonchon, South Korea was their only hope of refuge. Captain Hayward waited at the base camp set up outside Yonchon for word of their mission. There would be no formal military action to rescue Mitch and his men should they fall under fire or capture. Their top-secret objective warranted no scrutiny from the press. The outside world wouldn't know of their victory or failure. It was the way of the Force Recon Marine. Knowing they'd completed their mission successfully equaled the only glory Mitch required. For fifteen years, the Marine Corps had been his life, his reason to live.

Holding the phenomenal length of woman in his arms, his world seemed to hunger for a new direction. Mitch glanced at the sleeping beauty. Her lips pursed in a slight pout as if begging for a kiss. Thick eyelashes fluttered for an instant and he sensed she dreamt. The sudden twitch of facial movements led him to believe a nightmare tormented her rest.

Before he could stop himself, he leaned in and whispered, “Rest, Allie. You're safe. I promise no one's going to harm you.” Not sure why he did it, he brushed a gentle kiss across her furrowed brow. The momentary touch caused his mouth to water and increased his desire to taste her lips to their fullest. The insatiable need jolted him upright, straightened his spine taut, and instinctively tightened his grip around his precious prize.

Oh, God, give me the strength to complete my mission and walk away to live another day as a Marine

Allie started to balk when he first lifted her into his arms. She was an independent woman and needed no assistance in walking or running for that matter. Exhaustion gripped her system overriding her normal strong-willed attitude. The ache in her legs and the sting of multiple cuts to the bottoms of her feet aided in her decision to accept his help. The pit of her stomach heated when he shifted her close and carried her like a damsel in distress. Out of the two men she'd dated, neither ever lifted her, much less treated her as delicately as this big, tough Marine.

This was a man she'd enjoy getting to know. She shivered, trying to prevent her mind from wandering in a non-professional direction. Apparently, saving her was his team's mission. Nothing more, nothing less. It wouldn't do to let her imagination create an incorrect scenario. But her hormones whipped along at a rapid pace, twisting her thoughts back to the romantic.

Was there a hint of an underlying warning in the way he snapped 'you done' at his fellow soldier? Nah, she decided. Even though she'd sensed an electric spark from her head to her toes the moment she laid eyes on him, she doubted he'd experienced the same. Camouflage didn't hide the healthy male specimen from her trained eye. Without the dark face paint, she bet chiseled features surrounded his sexy, bright blue eyes. The helmet hid the color of his hair making her itch to unravel that mystery by removing it. And if he smiled, she'd probably melt. Thank God he didn't smile.

The steel of his weapon lay between them digging into her side and hip. Though it bit into her comfort, she was grateful for the cold barrier it placed between them. Without it, she wasn't certain she wouldn't embarrass herself by snuggling tighter against this massive machine of a man. They'd walked for miles and yet he showed no signs of fatigue. His fortitude astounded her and kept her libido ramped on high, even though she tried desperately to tone it down. The rhythm of his gait lulled her to sleep in the sanctity of his arms.

For now, she was safe.

Deep sleep wasn't possible, but a catnap engulfed her system though she tried to fight the inevitable. Bumped and bruised tossed around wrapped in a burlap sack, hours dissipated, lost forever. Rain poured, mouth dried. Visions of a strange man's face danced behind her eyes. His macabre smile tormented her soul. Eyes filled with a history of torture, resentment, and hate gazed directly at her as if daring her to run. Tiny hands twisted a man's head, snapping his neck, sealing his fate. Her chest constricted. The gasp froze in her throat.

Would she be next?

Refusing to open her eyes for fear of seeing the short little man with the deadly skills, Allie stiffened against the cold hard steel.

A warm breath touched her ear. Whispered words of comfort unknotted the coil wrapped tight around her chest, allowing her to breathe with ease. Whether intentional or not, the cradle of his arms cuddled her closer, coaxing her system to relax. The realization she was no longer held captive emerged from her sleep-induced haze. The brush of masculine lips across her brow sealed the need to get to know this man better. He knew nothing of her nor she of him, but deep in her heart, the desire to learn and explore his attributes ignited.

If she thought too hard about it, she'd convince herself she suffered from some sort of hero worship syndrome. After all, he had rescued her. His sudden stop stirred her from the momentary haven of safety. Muffled noises sounded in the distance.

Allie peeked from beneath the rain poncho and whispered, “Where are we?"

His brilliant blues met hers and for a split second she thought he'd kiss her. Wrong. Instead, he communicated the need for silence with a shake of his head. Damn the romantic notion. This man was all business. She swallowed hard. Considering the situation, she needed to remain levelheaded and listen to these highly trained specialists if she wanted to survive. Instinctively, she followed his lead and lowered to her feet. Instant coldness replaced the warmth he'd given her causing her to internally shiver. The moment she had her balance, he readied his weapon and shifted into a combat stance, keeping her close behind. She placed each step carefully in the indention of his boot print in the mud.

Where he stepped, she stepped.

It took great inner strength to resist the temptation to kiss her. Those sleepy, dark brown eyes of hers relayed desire mixed with fear. And fear was an emotion he refused to touch. He'd already made a wrong move by kissing her brow. The salt of her skin left a flavor sealed to his lips he would never forget. The essence was pure Allie, an intelligent woman with an air of refined innocence.

Her file read like an encyclopedia of knowledge and achievements. The woman he protected maintained a high IQ, not to mention several master's degrees in science, math, art, and the one that worried him the most, nuclear physics. Did Kwan know that? If he did, there'd be no way he'd give up on such a prized commodity easily. Her value to the mercenary would triple. Kwan would torture her to extract every ounce of information he could, then either sell it, or her, or both to the highest bidder. Kwan knew no loyalty to any employer.

The low rumble of off-road vehicles seemed to hover within a half-mile radius. It surprised him they used quads for mobility. But given the tough terrain, it seemed a logical choice. For the last hour, the engines’ groans echoed through the trees from several different directions behind them. Mitch gave thanks for the rain. Though it slowed their return to the location where they'd hidden their boat, it also covered their tracks and hampered Kwan's progress. The night before, they'd traveled up river via a high-speed, silent, motorized inflatable boat. The hike up mountain through thick, wooded terrain hadn't fazed his well-trained Marines. One glance over his shoulder and he read the fatigue in her eyes. She looked lost in the oversized rain poncho. And surely her bare feet took a beating. Allie didn't have the physical stamina or hours of military training under her belt he did. This wore on her and seeing that touched a soft spot in his heart. She needed him. Mitch forced his gaze back to scanning the area. With the cover of the storm, he hoped they'd still be able to access the boat and the river without being seen.

Lou's whispered warning through the communications system in their helmets made his jaw clench. Now, they had a new threat. A band of North Korean militants camped, blocking the most direct route to the Imjin River. They'd have to work their way around, but it wouldn't be easy. On Lou's cue, Eric took point and they switched to a due east heading, giving the camp a broad radius. Lou shifted to the rear, keeping watch with Dean, making sure no movement came from the militants. Allie stayed within the tight net of Marines as they increased their pace. The sooner they got out of range of that group, the better.

It didn't take long before the roar of engines entered the camp behind them. Angry voices echoed through the trees. Mitch strained to hear, picking out a few words from the wind. Shouted commands knotted his chest. Kwan had a connection with these militants. His orders filled the woods with armed vigilantes searching for Allie and whoever helped her escape. Bodies crashed through the underbrush and the rumble of off road quads let them know the hunt escalated, tipping the scales in Kwan's favor.

Though Allie didn't complain, she winced with every footfall. Her feet had to be badly damaged. Mitch stopped short, turned and caught her before she ran head first into him. On a hoarse whisper, he commanded, “We've got to move faster. Piggy back now."

He turned and stooped before her, cutting a darkened gaze across his shoulder at her. The snap of a limb nearby made Allie jump. She didn't hesitate. She hoisted onto his back, wrapped her legs tight around his waist, hooked her feet together and grasped his shoulders. Mitch made one quick adjustment to the added weight, but never released his weapon. It was up to her to hold on. The team fell into combat ready mode as they hustled through the trees, trying to place distance between them and the enemy without giving away their location.

The heat of him between her legs warded off the chill of the ice-cold rain. They must look ridiculous racing through the woods as if they were kids playing a game of chicken in a pool. Drenched as she was, she could have easily been in a pool. An image of Staff Sergeant Mitch Sinclair wearing a bathing suit kicked up the heat in her veins. Allie would have smiled if the situation weren't so dire. Ominous echoes reverberated through the trees reminding her death followed on their heels.

Closer and closer the engines hummed. Branches cracked. Voices carried angry shouts she could only imagine equaled her demise. Her heart beat in her throat and she readjusted her grip to lace her arms around his neck, pulling her snug against him. The man beneath her didn't falter. Neither did the band of men around them. Each movement in-sync with the other, like a magical military dance, awed her. Her life lay in their refined capabilities.

The rise and fall of his breathing against her chest caused an unexpected reaction. Allie tried to prevent it by clenching her abdominal muscles and sucking in tight, but it failed. Both breasts reacted with each brush against his back. God, she hoped he hadn't felt them before arching her shoulders, placing a gap between them. A thin layer of cool filled the slender space. It didn't help. Instead, she shivered, involuntarily scraping the taut renegades across his shoulder blades. If they were any sharper they'd have cut through both their clothing. That thought almost made her giggle, but she managed to swallow it. It had to be the total exhaustion making her giddy. Allie buried her head behind his and struggled for control.

On a heavy sigh, she determined it had to be the extreme circumstances for this overreaction. At least that's what the analytical side of her brain tried to convince the hopeless romantic in her soul. Fear thrashed through her system with each noise closing in on their proximity. Allie clawed tighter to his neck, but quickly loosened her grip when he flexed letting her know she choked him. She wanted to whisper sorry, but didn't dare break the silence.

They moved like creatures of the night. Hand signals and occasional clicks of their tongues were their main mode of communication at this point with the enemy closing in. Eric brought them to a halt. Several feet ahead, water roared its way down the mountain like a giant waterslide.

Mitch stood rigid on the bank of what twenty-four hours earlier had been a minor stream that fed into the Imjin River. With the torrential rain, it now was a rapid flowing tributary. A decision needed to be made. Continue winding down along the bank or use this new fast paced waterway to their advantage. He and his men could navigate it without a problem, but doubted Allie would make it without help.

As if they'd read his mind, Eric, Lou, and Dean were quickly making their gear watertight. Mitch helped Allie to her feet. The glide of her body down his sent an arrow of need straight south of his belt. Never had he reacted in such a manner to a woman. Usually, they were a temporary ornament in his life, then they were gone the moment they got too serious. Something about this one piqued more than just his interest. The brush of her nipples with each step he'd taken weakened his resolve to do his duty, uphold his oath, and not ravish the beauty on his back. Did she realize what she did to him? He cupped her chin as he placed a finger to his lips. Her nod relayed her compliance. The look in her eyes made him doubt she understood the full strength of her feminine wiles. Pure innocence stared back at him for a second before he turned and quickly waterproofed his gear as best as possible. The rain soaked everything, but they didn't need their weapons becoming waterlogged while body surfing downstream.

Mitch took Allie's hand and guided her ankle deep into the coldness. He pointed at Eric who eased in, laid out straight on his back, held his head and his plastic wrapped weapon up, and let the river sweep him away. Lou waded in to his hips, then waited for Mitch to escort Allie in deeper. Dean remained on guard until it was his turn.

Reading the indecision in her eyes, Mitch leaned close to her ear and asked on a soft whisper, “Do you swim?"

Allie shook her head. Tears welled in her eyes and for the first time since she'd been pulled from the van, he thought she might cry. He forced a smile hoping to ease her anxiety. Keeping his lips close to her ear, he whispered, “Turn around, keep your back to me, knot your hands together on your chest and once we're in position, cross your ankles and keep your legs straight. Do your best to hold your head up and your mouth closed so you don't swallow too much water."

She turned as commanded and placed her hands in a ball on her chest. Mitch positioned himself behind her, tucked his plastic wrapped weapon between them and wrapped his arms around her waist. With Lou's help, they eased back as one unit-bodies tucked tightly together, her head level with his chin, legs captured between his. Her taut round bottom nestled firmly against his pelvis was the only thing killing him on this ride. Cold water or not, his body reacted into a semi-hard condition he hoped she didn't notice.

For someone unable to swim, the way she molded into him amazed him. She relaxed allowing him full control. They rode the waterway like a fine tuned pair of body surfing professionals. Did that mean she trusted him? Mitch tightened his grip as they rounded a bend. When he leaned, she leaned. She mimicked his every move and never released her ankles or her hands. She made it easy for him to guide them. They followed Eric's bobbing head in the distance. After several miles of riding the water rush, they needed to exit the cold before hypothermia set in. His men would know this as well. The lower they descended, the water slowed, making it easier to maneuver toward the bank. Mitch watched for Eric's lead. Seeing him wade ashore, Mitch guided them toward the shallows. As soon as possible, he stood, lifting Allie to her feet.

She spun facing him, shoving her soaked hair back from her face as she sputtered, teeth chattering, “That was fun."

"Shush.” Mitch reminded her of the need for silence even though her delight thrilled him to the core. Allie nodded as she visibly shivered from head to toe. Cold settled into him as well, but he refused to acknowledge it. She needed warmth and fast.

Lou and Dean landed within a few feet of them. It didn't take much to communicate they desperately needed to get Allie dry. Her teeth rattled. She rubbed up and down her arms as she did a little dance in place. Mitch scooped her into his arms and carried her into the cover of the trees before anyone spotted them. Dean remained with him while Lou and Eric scouted for a place to recover and regroup their situation. Time ticked and seemed like hours before Eric returned. He motioned for them to follow. Less than a hundred feet from where they landed, a small village lay nestled at the base of the mountain.

Their reconnaissance found an empty house on the farthest end away from the water. Dinnertime smells filled the air making their stomachs growl. The village consisted of a total of fourteen houses in various sizes, from the simple hut to adobe type dwellings with straw thatched roofs. One dirt road led into and out of the center. Beside two of the larger homes, ancient cars sat and looked as if they hadn't been driven in years. No doubt due to the rain, no one milled about the village. All seemed content to remain inside and dry.

Dry. That was one thing Mitch wished he could make happen for Allie. Her lips were turning blue. Relief washed over him the moment they entered through the back door of the empty house. Heat filtered across his exposed skin and Allie gave an audible sigh.

Lou started a fire in the fireplace. The only two windows were covered, not allowing light from the fire to alert the outside world anyone was there. With the dark skies and heavy rain, Mitch doubted the smoke from the chimney would be noticed. The house was small with only three rooms, a kitchen/living area, a bedroom, and a primitive bathroom. Lou stood from the fire and pointed toward the bathroom.

"There's running water, but no hot. I heated some over the fire for you.” He smiled at Allie and Mitch's gut clenched. “It's not much, but it might help warm you up. Toss your clothes out here and I'll hang them to dry."

"Thanks,” Allie managed to reply before Mitch clutched her elbow and guided her toward the bathroom. One look and he noticed there was no door. The bedroom didn't have one either. Great. Knowing she'd be naked in the tub again wreaked havoc on his resolve. But he knew she needed to soak in a warm tub to help relieve the cold from her system. If it were up to him, he'd slide in that old, claw-footed tub right along with her and help soothe her senses with a good dose of body heat. His body heat.

"Make it quick,” Mitch stated in a much gruffer tone than he meant. “We've got to keep moving as soon as you're rested."

"Thank you for stopping. I'll only take a few minutes.” She licked her lips. “The man who started the bath, what's his name?"

"Sergeant Lou Randle,” he practically growled on a low whisper. For some reason, it irked him that she wanted to know Lou's name.

Mitch turned on his heels, marched into the bedroom, and jerked the blanket off the makeshift mattress on the floor. He hung it haphazardly over the bathroom door, granting Allie a smidgeon of privacy.

"Are you sure this place is secure?” Mitch turned to Lou.

"According to a letter I found, they've gone to visit their daughter and newborn grandbaby in Kosong."

Mitch read the note and was reassured the couple wouldn't return anytime soon. The letter informed them of the birth, which occurred two days prior. Knowing the Korean culture, they'd probably stay a month with their daughter to help, especially since it was her first child.

What would a child of theirs look like? Where the hell had that come from? Mitch tossed the letter back on the table as he grappled for control over such ludicrous thoughts. Cold wet clothes landed at his feet. Turning he caught a glimpse of Allie's smile right before she closed the makeshift curtain. Every ounce of him hungered to cross that line between duty and desire. He gathered her clothes and hung them to dry. Think Marine. Think duty and nothing else.

While Allie soaked, they stripped off their outer layers and hung them to dry around the fire. Each left on his camouflaged pants and tank top undershirts. They checked their weapons, ate, and then took their places. Lou sat at the back door. Dean took the front and Eric moved into the bedroom where one of the two windows was located.

Allie lowered over the edge of the small claw-footed tub. Instant heat warmed her toes, her calves, her thighs, and then her bottom. Cupping the water in her hands, she brought the glorious heat to her face. She sighed as she sank into the half-filled tub. Eyes closed, she envisioned a certain hunky Staff Sergeant and wished the situation were different. Why couldn't she have met him in a better place?

Because you live in two separate worlds. Allie's eyes sprang open wide. Would she see him again once this was over? God, she hoped so. But she lived a quiet life, working in a science lab at her father's side. And Mitch was a Marine whose life was filled with adventure. Sitting upright, she quickly ushered the water all over her body soothing the ache and the cold to ease. Before the water lost its allure, she stood and got out. There was no way she'd slow them down.

She grabbed a towel from the single shelf, wrapped it around her. Noticing it didn't cover much, she lifted the edge of the blanket and looked into the room. Mitch stood with his back to her. Lou sat leaning his head back against a wall beside the back door. The other two weren't in sight. As quickly as possible, she lowered the blanket and wrapped it around her as well, leaving only her head visible.

The sight of him without his helmet, back turned to her standing in his undershirt, camo pants, and boots stole her breath. Sandy blond hair in a high and tight cut made her palms tingle with the urge to touch it. Was it soft? Broad shoulders stretched the green tank top taut. Biceps flexed as he removed some sort of instant meal from a pack. Allie's mouth watered and she doubted it had anything to do with the food. When he turned and lifted his gaze to hers, she swore her heart stopped for a millisecond. Get a grip, Allie. He's just doing his job nothing more.

Mitch battled the urge to close the short distance between them and gather her in his arms. Allie looked like a lost angel wrapped in a blanket. Those big, brown eyes presented him with an invitation he couldn't accept. Her lips were no longer blue, but held a rich rosy hue, begging him to taste. She was naked beneath that thin layer of cloth and that knowledge set his insides on fire. He swallowed hard and forced his voice to work and his libido to back down.

"Hungry?” He held an open container her way. “It's not much, but it'll take the edge off until we get you to safety."

"Thank you.” Their fingers brushed as she accepted the meal. Heat sizzled up his arm to pool in his chest. He couldn't help but watch as she lowered to sit in front of the fire while she ate. The way her feet folded under her tush turned him on even more. The blanket's thin fabric caressed her skin like a glove, clinging to her luscious curves. Every ounce of blood in his system shifted to one location causing him discomfort.

"What about you and the others?"

Her question snapped him out of his dumbfounded, teenage crush-like stupor. Shaking his head, he regained a grasp on his senses. “We ate the MRE's-meals ready to eat-while you bathed."

"Then I won't take long.” The sensual gaze she shot him across her shoulder nearly crumbled the fragile wall of restraint he had left. “I promise."

Forty minutes had passed since they'd first entered the house and he knew they pressed their luck. Mitch turned, grabbed his shirt and dressed. The others returned and followed suit. At least the inner layer was warm and dry. The outerwear still maintained a fine sheen of dampness, but it wasn't dripping anymore and at least was warm on the inside. When he turned to hand Allie her semi-dry sweats, she wasn't by the fire. He spun on his heels and caught sight of her coming out of the bedroom. The man's shirt and pants she wore gave her a tomboy appeal. The pants looked more like a pair of Capris.

"The gentleman of the house must be short,” he said.

She carried a worn pair of boots. Before she stuck her foot inside, he handed her the pair of socks he'd grabbed earlier.

"Thought you might need these somewhere along the line, ma'am."

His consideration astounded her. The look in his eyes warmed her heart. He'd thought about her needs when she hadn't.

"Thank you.” She managed to push past the knot in her throat and hoped he'd say something else in that rich Southern drawl. His accent tickled her ears and made her smile inwardly as a fleeting fantasy of him whispering sweetly ignited her soul.

The hidden promise within his eyes stated he was more than a Marine. He was a man in need of love. Allie broke their stare. Stop, she reprimanded. Stop thinking of this as some sort of romantic venture. Was she so desperate for adventure and excitement that she'd fantasize about her rescuer? Yeah. She was. She'd spent years in the lab with no one but her parents as companions. The only two men she'd dated were boring drones. Neither had the gumption of this hunk of male specimen. Just looking at him caused her heart to pump faster.

Determination not to disappoint him or cause this mission to fail set in her soul. She knew she slowed them down and guessed in a normal operation they wouldn't have made this pit stop. This was all because of her. From here forward, she planned to do whatever it took to help them get out of here in one piece. She shoved her feet into the boots and shimmied the rain poncho back on over her head. Digging deep she gathered her resolve and struggled to maintain a look of confidence, even though her nerves were strained and her muscles hurt.

The boots were snug, but she managed to walk well enough in them. They would do and it was better than running in bare feet.

Eric slipped outside first. The others followed. A beat-up truck sat along the far wall of the house. Dean worked his magic and got the engine cranked. Lou drove. Allie sat in the middle, Mitch at her side, weapon at the ready. Dean and Eric rode shotgun in the back.

They stayed on the dirt road only long enough to get within a mile of the location where they'd stowed the inflatable boat. The river still gave them the most direct and fastest route out of North Korea. As far as Mitch was concerned, he wanted to get Allie out of here as fast as possible. Not sure if it was his imagination or not, he thought he heard the low rumble of quads in the distance. Instinct told him Kwan hadn't given up.

Body surfing down the tributary may have gotten them ahead by a few miles, but it didn't mean they were safe. They'd lost valuable time by stopping to let Allie rest. He shot a sideways glance her way. She still looked tired, but at least she no longer shivered from head to toe. He lingered longer than he should have on her lips before he dragged his gaze back to scanning for the enemy. Lou maneuvered the truck as far as it could go along the rough terrain off road. Then they hoofed it to the boat. Running full force as the drone of engines closed in on them.

Within seconds, Eric and Dean uncovered the boat and started the motor. Mitch helped Allie in and ordered her to crouch in the center. They hadn't gone far when something whizzed past Mitch's head. They were under fire. Lou began evasive maneuvers. Mitch, Eric, and Dean took combat positions and prepared to return fire on Mitch's command. Normally they were in and out, no shots fired unless fired upon. That was the way of the Force Recon Marine. Repeatedly, shots came close but failed to reach them. They were out of range.

Something in Mitch's gut told him it wasn't over. They wouldn't stop there.

Dark skies and continuous rain provided a cover of near invisibility for them as they forged downriver headed for the sanctity of the DMZ and the safety of South Korea. Allie crouched low in the middle of the boat as he'd asked. He and the others provided a wall of protection, but none would be a complete shield in the eye of a well-placed sniper. Mitch's chest tightened. Soon they'd reach the one area of the river they were most vulnerable. The last half mile of North Korean territory consisted of steep cliffs on both sides and nowhere to hide.

Kwan wasn't stupid. If he planned an ambush, that would be the most logical location. At least in Mitch's trained mind, it seemed the best. All he could hope was they didn't have the capabilities to outrun them and get ahead of the high-speed boat. Every muscle tightened the moment they entered the cliffs. Mitch scanned the upper regions for any signs of life.

Nothing. But he didn't relax. He wouldn't until the package had been delivered to safe ground. The package. Swallowing hard, he couldn't completely convince himself to think of her as a package. Although she had a nice package he wished he could unwrap and explore. Visions of her naked form danced behind his eyes tormenting his self-control. It had only been a glimpse, but it had been enough to ignite a burning curiosity he couldn't deny.

When this was over, he truly needed to rethink his decision of living a life alone. He lifted his night-vision goggles to rest his eyes. Glancing at her, he knew those big, brown eyes stared his way even though he couldn't see her. He could feel the heat of her stare. Not condescending, not judgmental… simply sensual, which shocked him to the core. What would a woman of her stature, her intelligence want with a man like him? She had a family, a life, and a career. And he, Mitch sighed, sliding the goggles back in place, he came from nothing, had nothing and lived for only one reason… to serve as a Marine.

The goggles were barely in place when he caught sight of a movement in the distance high on the far bank. A quick adjustment zoomed in on the area. From this distance, he couldn't get a fix on what they were doing, but he sensed it wasn't good. A spark and a trail of smoke widened his eyes.

"Incoming,” he yelled, causing Lou to counter the attack with an evasive maneuver. The grenade landed several hundred feet short, sending a wave of water hustling after them. The wave hit with a solid force. Lou's skill had them riding it with the ease of a surfboarder.

"The border's in sight,” Dean called out, pointing at the lighted compound.

Twin guard towers stood on either side of the waterway entrance. The sudden flash of strong beams of light on the river lit up their position as if it were daylight. Damn, might as well draw a bull's-eye on their backs. They just had to cross under the fence and they'd be safe. A shrill whistling in the air snapped his head around to see another missile-fired grenade headed their way. This had more stamina and seemed like it wouldn't miss. Must've been shot from an RPG-7, he mused right before it hit the water within ten feet of them.

"Brace yourselves,” Mitch screamed as he turned, dove, and wrapped himself around Allie.

A solid wall of water lifted the boat six feet into the air, tossing it end over end like a toy. As the boat flipped, so did the well-prepared Marines. Lou, Eric, and Dean entered at angles, landing them closer to the safety zone. Mitch and Allie hit the water curled in a ball of bodies. Seconds passed with no sight of them. Mitch hit bottom, twisted, loosening his legs from around Allie, then shoved off propelling them upward. He guided them to the surface. The sound of her gasp when they broke the top sent relief crashing through his system. They hit the water and went under so fast, he hadn't gotten the chance to tell her to take a deep breath and hold it. But she was smarter than that, he laughed at himself. Common sense made a person hold their breath before going under. It was a natural reflex to prevent drowning.

"You okay,” he gasped over the roar of the river as he held her in the rescue swimmer position. Her back pressed to his chest, his arm under hers around her chest while he maintained buoyancy for them both.

"Yeah.” She tilted her chin trying to see his face. “You okay?"

Mitch wrapped around her equaled ecstasy in her book. The cold water gave her a momentary shock when they first hit, but she managed to capture enough air in her lungs to survive. Sinking deeper and deeper, her heart raced, but she refused to succumb to fear. He had a hold on her and she believed he wouldn't let her drown, although it seemed like forever before he brought them to the surface. They'd been fired upon and nearly killed, but he'd saved her again. Cradled in those strong arms gave her the confidence to relax in the water even though she didn't know how to swim.

In her position, she spotted the others frantically searching the powerful currents for them before Mitch did. Unable to do anything else for fear of causing an issue in their progress, she gave a loud sharp whistle, hoping to catch their attention. Lou spotted them and motioned to the others. Once they regrouped, they swam for the border. Allie kicked her legs in an effort to help speed the motion.

Cold seeped into her bones and she prayed she'd never be this wet again. Powerful strokes brought them closer and closer. Bright lights shone on them. Voices called out in foreign tongues. It surprised her when Mitch replied. He spoke Korean. Lou, Eric, and Dean crossed through the fenced gate that the border patrol opened. They lifted from the water and stood on the dock while she and Mitch brought up the rear. They were a few feet away from crossing the line when water exploded behind them.

Mitch curled in a ball gloving around her as if forming another layer of skin for her protection. He tucked her head under his as they tumbled over and over through the giant wave. They bounced from one object to another like a ball in a pinball game. The mound of muscle that was Mitch softened the repercussion of the blows. Several feet inside the safety zone, they washed up on shore just past the docks.

Lou reached them first. The sound of his voice called to her from somewhere far off, tugging her back to consciousness.

"Miss Summers, Mitch can you hear me?"

Seconds ticked away before she pried her eyes open. On a hefty bout of coughing, she cleared the water from her lungs and grappled for air. Mitch didn't move. His eyes were closed.

"Mitch,” she gasped.

He didn't respond.

"Mitch, man can you hear me?” Lou tried to pry him from around her.

Even unconscious he still protected her. His breathing seemed almost nonexistent. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Over and over, she called his name to no avail. Eric, Dean, and several medics for the Marine Corps ran to their aid. It took three men to unwrap Mitch's arms and legs from around her.

On hands and knees she crawled to his outstretched body. Please, God. Please let him live.

"His vitals are weak,” one of the medics stated.

"Let's get him inside,” the other replied.

Allie struggled to her feet as they placed him on a stretcher. Lou grasped her elbow and wrapped an arm around her waist right before her knees buckled. Lifting her gaze to his, she commanded on a graveled breath, “He's got to live."

"Mitch is strong. He'll make it."

"He has to."

Exhaustion controlled her system as her legs weakened and her eyes closed. Nothing mattered to her but Mitch.