They sat on the thermal sheet she'd pulled from her backpack surrounded by the lush foliage of the Mexican jungle, hibiscus in vivid shades of red and yellow and pink like swatches of color from a painter's brush. The sultry air was filled with the symphonic cries of tropical birds as they darted and swooped through the trees. The thick-leafed low-forest trees and giant plants formed a canopy, shutting out the sky and shielding them from the heat of the Mexican sun.
All that existed at the moment was the cave-like space in the midst of the vegetation where they waited for the helicopter.
Gaby Rendell stared across the eight inches of space separating her from Luis Aguilar and wondered for the thousandth time why she'd let her old boss talk her into this. But Luis had somehow been surprised by a guard detail from the cartel drug factory he was surveilling and escaped with his life and nothing else. The DEA had managed to locate him through the microchip in his shoulder but had no way to communicate to effect an extraction.
So here she was, having hiked five miles into the jungle to find him and call in their ride, wondering how she was going to walk away from him again. Trying to pretend that her body didn't want him just as badly as it always had and wishing this whole thing were over.
If anything, Luis looked better than he had a year ago. Thick black hair hung in a fall to his shoulders, framing a dark face with high cheekbones, a classic nose and full, sensuous lips. Eyelashes, almost too thick to be real, curtained the blackest eyes she'd ever seen. The dark T-shirt and cammo shirt over jeans in no way disguised the lean, fit body beneath them.