The Captive's Return (Wingmen Warriors 10)

She grabbed the rail for balance to settle her tumbling stomach, an unsteadiness she suspected had more to do with the man than the sky. "Not really. But he and Tio Ramon—his childhood friend, not an actual brother—are both widowers. They supported each other through the loss of their wives and commiserated over bringing up children alone. They even shared nannies for us, since Tio Ramon's wife was bedridden for a long time before she died."

"Sounds as if your families are close."

A chill settled over her in spite of the warmth of the sun steaming through the clear glider canopy. She knew of Tio Ramon's criminal reputation, most if not all of it true. Was Lucas merely on a fishing expedition for further information? That he might lie to her, even use her for his government...

Her stomach lurched again. Harder. "The embassy did a thorough background check on me."

"I know."

"You saw it?" Nerves smoothed with the first hints of anger. "Then why ask me these questions when you already know everything about me?"

"I like the sound of your voice."

Oh. And how she liked him.

Anger and pain floated away as easily as her bubbles. This man was so much better at compliments than any poetic player rambling on about her eyes or face.

"Sara? Hold up your hand."

What? "I really don't want to fly this time."

"That's not what I mean. Just reach forward. Trust me."

She did—both trust and reach.

He clasped her hand and kissed her wrist, holding for seconds until her eyes slid closed.

Not that she had a bit of interest in opening her eyes anytime soon. She would worry about how to learn more about reticent Lucas later. Because one thing was certain.

She definitely wanted to keep flying.

Lucas considered walking up behind Sara at the stream and simply kissing her.

Why not? He'd decided to follow his instincts and believe her story about the captivity. They'd kissed the night before and it had been...well...damn. She'd rocked his world as much now as she had five years ago.

But he couldn't instigate a sure-to-be passionate kiss, not with a kid around. Still he and Sara could begin getting comfortable with each other again, like with simple touches.

No hardship for him.

Lucas crossed the small clearing, his boots padding softly against the layers of vegetation. She didn't seem to hear him coming as she continued to lean over her backpack and some kind of black leather vanity kit.

Hmm. He wouldn't mind tasting her toothpaste again.

Rein it in, he reminded himself. Keep it low-key. Kneeling, he angled forward, his face close to her ear. "Good morning."

He stroked down her arm just as she jolted under his touch.>So many small details that could mean nothing. He couldn't figure her out and that concerned him. He hadn't survived this long by ignoring instincts. Training only carried a man so far, and he'd reached the top.

Or almost. He'd been damned close to taking control of the country. He'd been patient in collecting power and cultivating allies. He had a vision for his nation, a return to the true values of his people, one where tiny Cartina would command respect and influence world affairs.

The weaklings in control now were too concerned with winning "friends." He spit to clear the acrid taste of failure from his mouth.

Somehow, he would make Padilla pay. Ramon tossed the empty gas can into the back of the Jeep and hitched his Uzi over his shoulder again.

Heaven help the man who'd dared take what little he had left.

A man could only take so much temptation, and last night had damn near done him in.

Lucas tossed the palm leaves back into the jungle, spreading them out to look like a natural falling and disguise their camp. Sara crouched by the river, waterfall splashing a too-tempting backdrop for an impromptu swim.