Suzanne Brockmann - Everyday, Average Jones

After that, each time they had to hide, he’d slipped one arm around her, keeping his other arm free for his deadly-looking assault weapon. Melody had given up her pretense of being strong and independent. She’d let him hold her—let him be big and strong, let herself take comfort from his strength. She’d tucked her head underneath his chin, closing her eyes and listening as the steady beating of his heart kicked into overdrive, breathing softly and shallowly as he’d told her.

So far they hadn’t been caught.

Jones came and sat next to her now.

“We’ve got a problem,” he said bluntly, not trying to hide the truth from her.

Her trust in him went up to just over a thousand percent. He wasn’t trying to pretend everything was hunky-dory when it so obviously was not.

“The chopper’s a no-show,” he told her. In the moonlight, his expression was serious, his mouth grim instead of curling up into his usual smile. “They’re ten minutes late. We’re getting ready to split up. We can’t keep moving together. Come daybreak, a group this size is going to get noticed. And it won’t be long before the tangos realize you and Pete and Linc got away.”

Pete and Linc. The men who made up two-thirds of the Mod Squad. Even at his most serious, this man couldn’t resist making a joke of sorts. “Ten minutes isn’t that long,” Melody countered. “Shouldn’t we just wait?”

Jones shook his head. “One minute isn’t that long. Ten is too long. The chopper’s not coming, Mel. Something went wrong, and our waiting here is putting us in danger.” He lifted one of her feet, looking at the bottom of her sneaker. “How’s that duct tape holding up?”

“It’s starting to wear through,” Melody admitted.

He handed her his roll of tape. “Can you put on another layer yourself? We need to be ready to leave here in about three minutes, but right now I want to put in my two cents about our next move.”

Melody took the tape from him as he stood up.

Split up. He’d said they were going to split up. Melody felt a sudden rush of panic. “Jones,” she called softly, and he paused, looking back at her. “Please. I want to stay with you.”

She couldn’t see his eyes in the shadows, but she saw him nod.

* * *

Dawn was beginning to light the eastern sky before they stopped moving.

Harvard had the point and he’d traveled twice as far as Cowboy and Melody had during the night. He’d continuously moved ahead, silently scouting out the best route to take, then doubling back to report what he’d seen.

Cowboy was glad to have H. on his team. Moving through hostile territory would’ve been tricky enough for two SEALs on their own. Add a female civilian into the equation, and that mission got significantly harder. Getting across the border was going to be a real pain in the butt.

He glanced at Melody. The small smile she gave him both worried and elated him.

It was obvious she trusted him. He hadn’t been the only one in Alpha Squad to hear her say that she wanted to stay with him. Under normal circumstances, such an overheard remark would’ve been subject to merciless teasing. Cowboy Jones, notorious lady-killer, strikes again.

But every one of those other men knew that the lady’s words only verified that Cowboy had done his job and done it well. It wasn’t easy to gain the complete confidence and trust of a former hostage. Kurt Matthews, for instance, hadn’t bonded to Cowboy in quite the same way.

Still, the girl trusted him. He saw it in her eyes every time he looked at her. He knew without a doubt that in the course of a few short hours, he had become the most important person in her world.

He’d spent quite a bit of time studying the psychology of hostages and the emotions and fears involved in a rescue mission such as this one. He’d spent twice as much time learning what to expect from himself—his own behavior and psychological reactions when faced with life-and-death situations.

And what worried him most about Melody Evans’s smile was not the fact that he’d become the center of her universe. No, what worried him most was that she had somehow managed to become the center of his.

He knew it could happen. The danger, added to the tremendous responsibility of preserving another’s life, and multiplied by a very natural and honest sexual attraction, sometimes resulted in an emotional response above and beyond the norm.

He’d first been aware of his inappropriate response to this girl when they’d hidden from the city’s patrols. She’d huddled close and he’d put his arm around her—nothing wrong with that. She’d rested her head against his chest—and there was nothing wrong with her drawing strength and support from him that way, either.

But then, beneath the pungent odor of the shoe polish she wore on her hair, beneath the more subtle yet no less sharp odor of fear that surrounded all of the former hostages, he’d smelled something sweet, something distinctly female.

And then, right then, when the curfew patrol was inches away from them, when they were nanoseconds away from being discovered and killed, he’d felt Melody relax. The tension among the other hostages and the SEALs could’ve been cut with a knife, but Melody had damn near fallen asleep in his arms.

He knew in that instant that she trusted him more completely than anyone had ever trusted him before. Her faith in him was strong enough to conquer her fear. Her life was in his hands, and she’d placed it there willingly, trusting that if she died it would be because there was no other way out.

And just like that, as they hid behind trash in one of the city’s back alleys, Cowboy’s entire life changed. He felt his pulse rate accelerate out of control, felt his body respond to her nearness.

He might’ve been able to dismiss it as mere sexual desire except that it happened over and over again—even when she wasn’t touching him. All this girl had to do was smile at him, and he got that same hot, possessive rush.

Cowboy knew he should have mentioned the way he was feeling to Joe Cat before they split into three smaller groups. But he didn’t. He didn’t want to risk Cat’s pulling him away from Melody. He wanted to make damn sure she got out of this armpit of a country alive. As much as he trusted his teammates, he knew the only way he’d be certain of that was to stay close, to take care of her himself.

With Harvard’s help.

As the sun climbed above the horizon, they sat for a moment in the growing warmth outside a shallow cave Harvard had found cut into a desolate outcropping of rocks.

Once they warmed up, they’d spend the daylight hours here, out of the sun and out of sight of anyone wandering the foothills. Come nightfall, they would set out again, heading steadily north.

“I’ll take the first watch,” Cowboy told Harvard.

Melody was sitting next to him, near the entrance to the cave, her head back, eyes closed, face lifted toward the warmth of the sun. He touched her arm lightly, ready to pass her his canteen, but she didn’t move. She was exhausted, but she hadn’t complained once, all night long.

“Maybe you should get her settled first,” Harvard said in a low voice.

“Am I suddenly not here?” Melody asked, opening her eyes and surprising them both.

Harvard laughed, a low, rich chuckle. “Sorry,” he said. “I thought you were asleep.”

“Where are we heading?” she asked. Her eyes were nearly the same shade of blue as the cloudless sky. “Up to the coast?” They flashed in Cowboy’s direction as he handed her the canteen.

As their fingers touched, he felt an instant connection, a flood of electricity. And he knew damn well she felt it, too.

She was covered with dust from the road, smeared with shoe polish and utterly bone weary. Yet at the same time, she managed to be the most beautiful woman Cowboy could ever remember seeing. Damn, he shouldn’t be feeling this way. After this was over, he would have to go in for a psychological review, work with the unit shrink and try to pinpoint what it was, exactly, that he’d done wrong. Find out when it was that he’d let her get under his skin…