Top Gun Tiger (Protection, Inc 7)

“Not exactly. But I know what it is. Hundreds of years ago, a maharajah—that’s an Indian king—had a dream of building a golden city in the wilderness. He hired all the best architects and city planners and stonemasons, and they built this city. He was going to move his entire kingdom here. But before he could, he dropped dead of a heart attack. His son thought the whole thing was weird and impractical. He not only scrapped the plans to move the kingdom, he was so embarrassed by his dad’s weird idea that he destroyed the maps showing where it was and banned it from even being mentioned. After a generation went by, no one knew where it was. Explorers have searched for it. But we’re the first people to find it!”

“That’s amazing,” Ethan said. “History nerd. And the other nice thing about it is that if no one’s found it yet, it’s invisible from above.”

Destiny nodded. “I’m pretty sure I flew right over it, and I didn’t spot it. It must be completely hidden by the tree cover.”

“I don’t suppose the maharajah put in any beds before he dropped dead?” Ethan asked hopefully.

“Let’s find out.”

They pushed through the vines and stepped into the Golden City. Once he was actually in it, he could see that it hadn’t been lived in for many years, if ever. Dry leaves blew across the roads, flowering vines twined up the towers, and the patches of greenery that he supposed had once been parks or gardens were tangled thickets. Ornamental ponds and fountains were still full of water, probably replenished by rain, but it was green and murky. Huge, bulgy-eyed frogs sat on lilypads and hung motionless in the water, then leaped away with shrill squeaks and plops when they came close.

But the marble itself was perfectly preserved, without cracks and or stains. Many buildings were beautifully carved, and the fountains were decorated with statues of lovely women, handsome warriors, or wild animals. The humid air was scented with the perfume of tropical flowers and the tangy scent of ripe fruit.

Ethan forgot his illness and exhaustion, and felt that he was walking through paradise with the one woman he’d want to share it with.

“Mangoes!” Destiny exclaimed with glee, pointing to a tree laden with orange-yellow fruits. “Oh, I haven’t had a good one since I was eleven. The ones you get in the US are from Mexico, not India, and they’re just not the same.”

Leaving Ethan sitting on a bench of golden marble, she ran to the tree, swung up into the branches with agility that reminded him of Merlin, plucked a few fruits, gracefully dropped back down, and sat beside him.

“Think you could eat something?” she asked.

He’d had no appetite for days, and when he’d forced down the granola bar, it had felt like sandpaper on his sore throat. But Destiny had been right that he had to keep his strength up. And though he still wasn’t hungry, the mangoes smelled wonderful. He nodded.

She took out a pen knife, neatly cut one up, started to offer him a slice, then pulled it back. “Your hands.”

Ethan glanced down at his hands. His left was covered with blood, the fingertips still swollen and painful, and his right was black with soot from rummaging through the burned-out wreckage of the plane. “Can’t be helped.”

“Sure it can.” Destiny sliced off a smaller piece. “Open your mouth, jarhead.”

Ethan opened his mouth. Though he saw it coming, he still couldn’t quite believe it when Destiny put the chunk of mango between his lips. He had a wild temptation to catch her fingers in his mouth… but no. She’d said no. Nothing had changed since then.

He’d eaten mangoes before, but Destiny had been right: the ones in America weren’t the same. This was soft and silken in his mouth, ripe and juicy, with a peach-like scent like that long-ago cobbler, but with a sweet and tangy flavor that was all its own.

Destiny sat there and fed him the entire mango, bite by bite, before she even tasted her own. She was just showing him a soldier’s camaraderie, helping out a buddy who was hurt, he supposed. It shouldn’t feel as tender, let alone as sensual and romantic, as it did. When he imagined himself doing something similar for any of his men in a similar predicament, though, he immediately thought of three or four different ways he could get them some mango without letting it touch their filthy hands, starting with handing them the knife so they could use it like a fork.

“Thanks.” He felt awkward, because what he really wanted to thank her for was the exact thing he couldn’t mention: her treating him like a lover rather than a buddy. To cover it up, he said, “So you’ve been to India before?”

She shot him a strangely nervous look, then nodded. “My family visited once, when I was a kid.”

“That’s a long way to go for a family vacation. Did your family have friends here?”

“Umm.” Once again, she gave him that furtive look. It didn’t suit her. “Not exactly. More like friends of friends. Hey, let’s see if there’s any clean water. A bath and bed would hit the spot, right?”

Ethan nodded, a little bewildered. Why was she acting so weirdly evasive about a childhood visit to India? The only times he’d ever seen her be anything less than completely straightforward were when they’d first met and she hadn’t told him she was a shifter—but that had made perfect sense in retrospect—and when she’d been forced to mention her embarrassing female problem.

Which also made sense, he supposed. Women usually didn’t like to talk about their periods with men. He hoped she wasn’t going to come down with excruciating cramps. Though if she did, he hoped she wouldn’t be too embarrassed to tell him. Maybe he could rub her stomach or apply hot compresses or even just distract her with conversation—whatever would make her feel better.

But what could possibly be embarrassing or a secret about a family vacation twenty years ago?

And, he suddenly realized, why in the world had she hiked with him in an Indian jungle for two days without ever mentioning that she’d been there before?

“Ah-ha,” said Destiny, interrupting his thoughts. “I knew it. We have an actual bath!”

Ethan blinked down at a shallow swimming pool divided by a delicate sheet of thin marble. It was fed by the stream, and the water was clear and inviting.

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“How’d you know there’d be something like this?”