Beth Cornelison - Soldier's Pregnancy Protocol

Alec groaned. “I told you to roll!”

“I tried to, but you went the other way! Next time, be more specific about direction.”

He snorted. “Roger that, sweetcakes.”

She heard the click of metal, and the pressure of the straps restraining her loosened. With a firm shove, Alec scooted her off him and sat up. Erin crawled to her hands and knees and stayed there while she fought for control over her ragged breathing and scampering nerves.

Alec cupped her chin in his hand and brought her head up. “Look at me.”

She did, jolting again when her eyes connected with the stunning color and intensity of his. The warmth of his hand on her chin and steadiness of his gaze made her pulse stagger for reasons that had nothing to do with their perilous jump from the airplane.

“Pupils are still normal and even,” he said matter-of-factly.

A twinge of disappointment plucked her. The intent of his touch, his level look was clinical, not comforting. Yet he didn’t release her chin. “You all right?”

“I’ll live.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. The closest thing to a smile she’d ever seen cross his face. “See. That wasn’t so bad.”

She scoffed.

His thumb stroked her cheek, and ribbons of warm sensation streaked from the spot he caressed to pool in her core.

“I know you were scared, but you did great. Good job, sweetcakes.”

Erin sighed and tugged her chin from his grasp. “Stop calling me that. My name is Erin, not sweetcakes.”

His expression hardening, Alec squared his shoulders and started unfastening the parachute straps crisscrossing his chest.

“Roger that.” His tone was as biting as the rocks cutting into her knees.

She tugged at her own harness, wondering where the chastisement about his moniker for her came from. She’d never detected any condescension when he used the name, and she could think of plenty of things worse than sweetcakes he could call her. Hormones, she supposed. She’d been emotional and moody a lot lately.

“Who’s Bradley?”

Erin snapped her head up. “What?”

“You said you’d parachuted before with Bradley. Is he your brother?”

“I’m an only child. Bradley was my husband.”

Alec hesitated before tossing aside his parachute harness. He lifted one black eyebrow. “Was?”

The usual twist of grief squeezed her chest. “He … died two years ago.”

The grim slash of Alec’s mouth softened. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. Me, too.”

Alec balled the parachute and stuffed it in its pack along with the riser cords and his harness. “Let’s get moving. We still have two miles to hike, and it’ll be dark soon.”

“Two miles?” She gaped at Alec as he hoisted the parachute pack onto his back.

He gave a quick nod. “Uphill. If you’re not up to it—”

“What? You’ll leave me here to fend for myself?” She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him.

His scowl returned, and before he turned his back, she thought she saw a flicker of pain in his eyes. “If I were going to leave you behind, I’d have done that long ago. But since we’ve come this far, it looks like I’m stuck with you for the foreseeable future.”

Erin raised her chin and fought back the sting of tears. Darned hormones! She didn’t want to cry in front of Mr. Macho. “I didn’t ask to be involved in your problems! Or to have my life turned upside down by men who want to get at you through me!”

He glanced over his shoulder and sighed. His stony expression relaxed a crumb, though whether from resignation or remorse, Erin couldn’t be sure.

“You’re right. You’re in danger because of me. So I will do everything I can to protect you. But I have other objectives that need attention, and I won’t coddle or babysit you.”

She bristled. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Good.” He started climbing the steep slope. “If the hike is too difficult for you—” he paused and gave her an as-I-was-saying look “—I’ll carry you.”

His offer caught Erin off guard, landed square in her chest, leaving her speechless. Humbled. She had no doubt this man of many talents and reckless daring could carry her any distance he needed. She’d seen the ease with which he’d lifted the SUV driver at the storage building and had admired Alec’s muscular chest and arms from the first day she laid eyes on him.

And he’d obviously already carried her from the SUV to the plane while she slept. The idea taunted her. She had no business entertaining thoughts of getting close to a man with a lifestyle as full of danger as Alec’s, but there it was. His drop-dead physique, shocking blue eyes and breathtaking heroics on her behalf were a potent mix.

“I can handle two miles.” She fell in step behind him, sticking close despite his quick pace. The sinking sun drew the shadows of the trees and mountaintops in ever-deepening pockets of darkness. The sound of her own labored breaths—Alec didn’t seem winded in the least, darn him—blended with the crack of twigs and shuffle of leaves as nocturnal creatures stirred in the settling night.

The frosty bite of the air at this higher elevation burrowed to Erin’s bones. Before long, she couldn’t control the chattering of her teeth or the shivering in her limbs. “H-how much farther? I’m fr-freezing.”

Alec stopped and faced her. “Not far.”

He raked a measuring scrutiny over her and stepped toward her. “How’s your head?”

She opened her mouth to answer, but he chose that moment to wrap his arms around her and pull her close to his chest. He chafed his hands along her arms and back in brisk strokes. With her nose pressed against his chest, the tangy scent of soap and man surrounding her and his calloused hands moving over her, all rational thought fled. She leaned into him and closed her eyes. Relying on Alec for support and warmth seemed as natural as breathing.

Even with her nap earlier, she was bone-tired, and she savored the chance to rest. She knew fatigue was normal for a woman in her condition, even before factoring in the kind of emotional and physical extremes she’d been through today.

“Erin?” Grasping her shoulders, he pushed her to arm’s length, and she lamented the lost warmth of his body against hers. He peered down at her, his eyes cutting like lasers through the gathering darkness. “Can you make it just a little farther? The entrance to the safe house is just over the next ridge.”

“Is there anything to eat at this safe house?”

He grunted. “The food thing again? Do you always eat this much?”

His sarcasm nettled her. After all, she’d tried several times to explain the reason behind her huge appetite, and he’d been so busy ordering her around, he hadn’t listened. She brushed past him. “I promise not to eat more than my share.”

She heard the scuff of rocks as he followed her up the hill.

“I keep a couple months’ supply of food up here along with clothes, ammunition, batteries. Whatever I think I might need.”

A chill that had nothing to do with the cold tingled down her spine. “Ammunition?”

“I have to be prepared for anything.” His grim tone and stark warning were reminder enough of his dubious, dangerous existence. And the jeopardy she was in by association with him.

Hardly the peaceful, low-profile life she’d imagined for herself when she moved to Cherry Creek.

They cleared a grouping of trees, and the fading sunlight cast a dim glow over a deep crevasse and the moss-speckled granite face of the mountain on the other side.

Erin looked left and right. The trail, such as it was, seemed to hit a dead end. “Which way?”

“Straight,” he said, moving around her and toward the narrow ravine.