Ransom (Benson Security 4)

Wearing only her underwear, she sat in the hammock, under the netting, and used a precious wet wipe to clean off as much dirt as possible while she waited for John. Fortunately, a lot of the mud had dried and was easy to brush off. The rest, the stuff she couldn’t remove with one measly wet wipe, she would have to live with.

Night was falling fast now, and Belinda double-checked that everything of importance was stored safely under the mosquito net. Their makeshift water bottles, or balloons, were hanging off the rope above her, along with her handbag and the plastic water bottles. The rifle was wedged into the ropes holding one end of the hammock up, allowing for easy access should they need it. It was the best she could do. It was cosy, some would say claustrophobically crowded, but she had never been more grateful for her shelter than for anything in her life.

Night hadn’t dropped the temperature any. Her whole body felt clammy with perspiration. She almost wished it would rain so that she could stand in it and wash the salt off her skin. It wouldn’t make a bit of difference, though, because as soon as she was clean, the humidity would make sure she was sweating all over again. Even now, when it was almost fully dark and she could barely see, the heat was stifling, making each breath she took thick with moisture.

She made out the shape of John as he walked towards her, and instantly felt reassured by having him closer. He might be annoying, he might even think she was dumb, but he was still a mountain standing between her and trouble.

“Take your shoes off and I’ll hang them over the rope inside the netting. Your clothes, too. Hopefully they’ll dry out a little before the morning.” She didn’t think so, but she was keeping her fingers crossed. Wearing sweat-soaked clothes was no fun at all.

The shadowed outline that was John stopped dead. “You got undressed?”

“Well, duh. It’s about four hundred degrees and I’d really like my clothes to air out before I put them on again tomorrow. If the mud dried, so I could shake it off, that would be a bonus too.”

“You’re naked?” He sounded strangled.

“I kept my underwear on and my feet are caked in mud, so I’m practically wearing socks.”

He definitely made a strangled noise. “I think it’s best if I sleep out here.”

“J—Beast.” Damn it, she could not get used to calling him Beast. “You can’t sleep out there. It isn’t safe.”

“I’m not sure how safe it is in there with you, either,” he muttered.

And it hit her. She almost laughed. John was worried about sex, when she felt less sexy than she’d ever felt in her life. Even after her valiant effort to clean up, she was streaked with mud and sticky with perspiration. There were bites on every piece of skin that had been exposed to the elements, and leaves in her hair, and in place of brushing her teeth, she’d chewed a piece of gum she’d had stashed in her bag. Yeah, sex was totally on her mind.

“I hate to disappoint you,” Belinda said drolly, “seeing as you are obviously so desperate to get your hands on me, but there’s no way we can have sex in this hammock—even if we wanted to. And trust me, I don’t. Now, if you were offering a shower, that I’d take you up on. But sex, no. Apart from the fact I feel gross, there’s no room in the hammock to get physical. Plus, we’d probably break it if we tried. So, get your backside in here before a jaguar gets you. I promise to keep my hands to myself as best I can, given that we’ll be sleeping squashed together.”

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“This is a bad idea.”

“This is a bad situation. We’re making the best of it. Now stop screwing around. You need to get your clothes off or they’ll rub all night and cause you more pain tomorrow. You can’t sleep in clothes that stick to you.”

He muttered a whole string of things she couldn’t catch, but she heard the rustle of material and knew he was undressing. A minute later, something was thrust at her. “Here. My clothes and shoes.”

“I wish we had a flashlight.” Belinda felt her way as she hung his things over the rope above her. “Tomorrow, if we’re still out here, we need to make camp earlier so we can do everything before the sun sets and we can’t see. And we need food. I’m hungry.”

“I want the gun where I can reach it,” John said.

“I put it above us at the head end of the hammock. Please tell me the safety’s on?”

The answer was stony silence, which she took as an affirmative. Once everything was stored, she turned in the blackness, to face the edge of the hammock where John stood. Their surroundings had disappeared in the inky night and the volume of the jungle seemed to have been turned up. There were noises she hadn’t heard during daylight, deeper calls that seemed far more sinister in the dark.

“Come closer,” she ordered him. “Give me your hand and help me get out of here. If you climb on top of me, I’ll suffocate. It’s a better idea if I get out, then you get in and I climb on top of you.”

She heard a strangled groan, which she ignored. The air shifted and his hand landed on her arm. She moved it so she could take hold of his hand. It didn’t take long to get out of the hammock. She held up the net to let John under, showing him where to go with their joined hands.

“Don’t move around too much. I’m worried the thing won’t hold us.”

He muttered some more.

“That muttering is a really bad habit. You should work on that.”

He muttered even more, and Belinda found herself grinning.

There was the sound of material shifting and trees creaking as the hammock took his weight.

“I’m in.” His voice was a deep growl that made it clear he was not happy with the situation.