Chapter Twenty-Three

It was the best time of his life, the best he could have ever imagined. He’d had lovers before, but none matched Laila in her passion, her unabashed embrace of her own sexuality. There was no quarter asked, and none given as they…

The only word that came to mind was “ravished.” They ravished each other.

He was deeply, madly in love with her and had no idea what to do about it other than to have as much of her as he could—mind, body, and soul—before going to what would, most likely, be his death.

If nothing else, he’d die happy.

Trace listened, hearing the steady pitter-patter of rain shift and change, taking on a slower rhythm.

It was time.

He paused for a second, feeling the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest under his hand, her fingers entwined in his. They’d curled up again after the second lovemaking session, exhausted and invigorated at the same time. Her breathing had taken a few minutes to slide into the pattern of sleep, allowing him to relax and take a light nap.

What was ahead of them would take all they had, and then some.

He committed the scene to memory, trying hard to seal the satisfaction, the happiness, the contentment away for when he needed it.

Gently, he pulled his hand away and got to his knees.

She rolled onto her back and yawned as he went to the dying fire and added the last of the twigs, bringing the embers up to a full flame. He picked up his dry underwear and pulled them on before going to the cave entrance. Water dripped from nearby branches and leaves, puddling on the stones, but much slower, nothing like what they’d trudged through to arrive at the cave or experienced on the boat.

He peered up at the night sky. The moon was still hidden behind the retreating storm clouds—only a crescent moon, but he wanted as little light as possible to make their approach on the villa.

He turned and looked at Laila, sprawled on the blanket. “Rain’s letting up. We should move.”

She nodded, rising to her knees. He saw the change in the way she moved, the way she spoke.

Playtime was over.

“Do you think Blanco’s men have any idea we’re here?” She gestured toward the cave, the trickle of smoke drifting along the stone ceiling and out into the night. “If they saw the smoke…”

“If they did, they’d already be on us.” He offered her a hand, helping her stand. “The storm’s been our biggest problem so far, but right now we can use the last of it to our advantage. The men aren’t going to be keen on going out patrolling in this light drizzle. If we’re lucky, it’s cleared out some of the traps between us and the fence. They won’t come out to reset those until sunrise.”

“Agreed.” She unpacked the fresh, dry clothing from the pack. “Odin and Freyja have done their part. Now time for us to do ours.”

He kept staring at her, mentally devouring her again as they dressed in the black pants and black sweaters brought specifically for this task.

She glanced at him sideways, rewarding him with a sly smile. “You’re the one who woke me up.”

“I know.” He growled, buckling his belt. “But you can’t blame me for looking.”

Laila laughed as she drew her finger along his cheek, bringing his chin up. “Look, but don’t touch. We don’t have time for that.”

“Always time for a quickie,” he groused.

“Not now. Ugh.” She struggled with the black long-sleeved shirt. “We’re going to sweat to death,” she complained as she tugged it over her head.

“We’re going to need the protection,” he retorted, unpacking the pair of automatic pistols. Sealed in plastic bags, the weapons and ammunition were both dry.

He slid a leather holster onto his belt and slapped a clip into the pistol before securing it. “Last thing we need is to be eaten alive by bugs or sliced to ribbons by the plants on our way in.” He did the same with the second pistol and handed the weapon to Laila along with the second holster.

She copied his previous action, the pistol safe on her hip. “Point taken.” Laila knelt to tie her boots, patting the military-style knife secured to her thigh. “I’ll confess, I’m a bit more comfortable with this weapon than the gun.”

“Don’t worry—if we’re lucky, we won’t have to use either. There’ll be a time and a place for Blanco’s reckoning, but it won’t be here and now, no matter how much I may want it.” Trace extracted the waterproof map, the slick plastic shimmering in the dying firelight. “We come in, make the exchange. Exit the house, back to the boat.” He hesitated. “Or what I hope will be a boat. Worse case, we’ll paddle out on the raft and look for help, playing the hapless tourists lost at sea after the sailboat went down.”

“But staying clear of the island,” she added.

“Hell, yeah.” Trace folded up the map. “The rental boat owner will send the alarm up if we don’t return by tomorrow morning—that’ll trigger a search, and with this storm, it’ll be easy to claim we got scrapped on the water.” He tucked it into his pack. “Just remember, once we get inside the perimeter, there are no alarms. Blanco’s got faith in his exterior security to keep him safe.”

She nodded and stepped on the dying fire, using her canteen to douse the already-smoldering flame. A few kicks of her booted feet and the fire was extinguished, no longer an asset to them or a danger to others.

“Laila…” He moved up beside her and took her hand, bringing it to his lips. “I want you to know…” He paused, the fluttering in his belly stealing away his words.

Laila smiled before touching his lips with her fingertips. “I know.” She picked up her pack. “Hope you can keep up.”

He chuckled as she led the way out of the cave, leaving him to bring up the rear.

The rain had stopped, leaving only the repetitive drip-drip of falling water to fill the night air as they stepped back onto the trail.

Trace moved in front of her, checking his compass. “House is that way. This must be one of their regular patrol trails, which is excellent for us. Less likely to be booby-trapped.” He glanced up into the dark sky. “We’ve still got a few more hours until dawn—plenty of time.” He reached out a hand. “Let’s go.”

Laila walked in silence beside him for the better part of an hour, climbing over fallen logs and making their way through the thick forest. The foliage swept around them as they moved down into the valley, Trace using his machete once or twice to hack the worst of the drooping leaves away.

“Jackpot.” He pulled her over to a stone outcropping and pointed. “There it is.”

She blinked, taking in the amazing sight.

It was as if someone had dropped a house out of nowhere into the middle of the forest, the white tiled roof reflecting the starlight.

In the distance, she spotted the private runway, a thin, dark line carved out of the jungle.

“Right.” Trace nodded. “The fence starts about a mile out from the house. We’ll cut through a section.”

She froze as the sound of barking dogs reached her ears.

Trace moved in front of her, putting a finger to his lips. They stayed in place as the noise moved directly in front of them…then to the right.

The howls and barks faded into the distance. Laila let out the breath she’d been holding, her lungs aching.

“We’re okay,” Trace said. “Random patrol. Those poor bastards must have done something bad to be sent out in the rain in the middle of the night.”

“Should we turn back?”

“Not a chance.” He smiled, a cocky, self-assured smirk that shot straight to her heart. “It’s just starting to be fun.”

Another half hour of walking and she found herself staring up at a tall, eight-foot-high fence—so out of place in the forest that she caught herself laughing.

“Yeah. Subtle isn’t Blanco’s strong spot, it seems.” He led her over to a nearby tree stump. “This’ll take a few minutes.”

She drew in a deep breath, the cool night air filling her lungs. It was an almost surreal scene, Trace kneeling at the base of the fence and pulling out wire cutters as she looked skyward, spotting the last remnants of the dark cloud that had plagued them earlier.

Laila gave a quick prayer of thanks to the storm, for giving them cover and for allowing her to be with Trace. No matter what happened from here on, she had that wonderful memory.

Now, all she had to do was make sure they both survived.