Under Fire: The Admiral Read Online Free

hers.
    “Relax, Doc. You’re nobody till somebody
shoots at you.”
    He looked down, squinting. She guessed he was
trying to determine how serious she was. Finally, a corner of his
mouth curved up. He rested his arm on the ground beside her and
moved his body around, creating a not unpleasant friction. For a
moment she thought he was going in for a kiss. “You don’t need to
get that relaxed.”
    “What now, pilot survival woman?” he said in
a loud whisper.
    “We stay put. They’ll run south a ways, see
if they can find us. After they head north again we should be
okay.”
    “If they don’t find us will they come ashore
looking?”
    “Naw!”
    “Why not?” He picked a leaf off her shoulder
and held it up so she could see it wasn’t alive.
    “Too much trouble for them to come ashore,
and besides—” She paused, making sure she had his full attention.
“They know we’ll never survive the jungle,” she said, unable to
keep the smile from her voice.
    “Little do they know,” he said in a deep
voice that sounded like a promo for an action flick, “survivor
woman is here.”
    “I’m here to serve.” She raised her hand and
he flinched as if he thought she was going to smack him for the way
he was pressed against her. “Relax. You’ve managed to get more crap
in your hair.” She ruffled his hair, sending bits of flora and
fauna raining down into her eyes and mouth that she sputtered to
clear.
    “Close your eyes,” Ben said.
    She did and he gently wiped guck from her
eyelids. The pad of his thumb glided damn sensually back and forth
over her lips once, then twice. His breath brushed her cheek,
blowing dirt away. Or, was that . . . what he was doing? She opened
her lids slightly and saw his lips parted, nostrils flared. Was he
. . . ? Her eyes flew open. “Are you smelling me?” She made no
attempt to hide her annoyance, then planted a hand on his shoulder,
stiff-arming him back.
    “Yeah.” He licked his lips, looking surprised
and embarrassed.
    “Really?” she said incredulously.
    “You smell good.”
    Was he freaking out on her or . . . ? “How
many of those pain meds did you take?” She checked his eyes to see
if his pupils were dilated but his irises were so dark she couldn’t
tell.
    Before he could answer, thrumming engine
sounds broke through the jungle “Scoot back as far as you can.”
    “Can’t go back any more.”
    She lifted her head. His feet were wedged
against the trunk of a tree twisted with roots and vines, looking
for all the world like it had been created for a Disney theme
park.
    Gemma rolled to her belly. The moment she
settled, his body compressed against hers. She flattened against
the moist smelly jungle floor and peered through the space between
the backpacks.
    The boat cruised slowly outside the cresting
waves. “Be still and quiet.”
    “You’re . . .”
    Gemma elbowed him hard and gave him
her cross-me-and-you-die look over her shoulder. Thankfully, Walsh
went quiet and still. She rested her forehead on her arm, thinking
about the freaky smell thing until Walsh’s breathing was the only
un-jungle sound. She shouldered him off and he rolled to his side.
“I understand you aren’t used to being told what to do.” He gave
her the innocent little-boy look men use when they’re about to
catch hell. “From here on out, when I tell you to do something do
not ask why or argue. Do it!” she said, rolling into a
sitting position.
    She stood and brushed off.
    “But . . .”
    Her boot connected with his thigh. “No buts.
I’m not doing it to make your life miserable. I’m keeping you
alive.”
    “I know. Your number-two goal,” he grumbled,
batting the leaves surrounding his head as he sat up.
    “Damn skippy,” she snapped.
    Walsh stood.
    “Come here and let me check you for anything
moving.” She circled him brushing, examining him carefully for
anything moving.
    “Now me.” She turned her back and shot him a
look over her shoulder. “And don’t be