Jungle Inferno Read online

  Jungle Inferno

  Desiree Holt

  Book 1 in the Phoenix Agency series.

  For Faith and Mark, the telepathic connection they’d shared for years was nothing compared to the scorching physical connection they realized as adults. From the first moment they came together, “erotic” was too pale a word to describe their relationship. Together they explored each other’s deepest, darkest desires.

  But now Mark, survivor of an ambush to his Delta Force team, is a prisoner of a terrorist group in the Peruvian jungle, and his telepathic communication with Faith is his only contact with the world. While she searches for help to save him, they survive on dreams that take them beyond all sexual boundaries.

  Ellora’s Cave Publishing

  www.ellorascave.com

  Jungle Inferno

  ISBN 9781419930447

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Jungle Inferno Copyright © 2011 Desiree Holt

  Edited by Helen Woodall

  Cover art by Syneca

  Electronic book publication May 2011

  The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

  Jungle Inferno

  Desiree Holt

  Dedication

  As always, to my own late hero, who continues to live in my dreams, and to Josh, without whose help the details in this book would have been unrealistic and inaccurate.

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  AK47: Universal trademark not owned by any one corporation

  Alice in Wonderland: copyright Lewis G. Carroll

  Baccarat: Baccarat Crystal

  Barnes & Noble: Barnes & Noble, Inc.

  Barrett: Barrett Firearms Inc.

  Bell Ranger: Bell Helicopter Textron Inc.

  Boy Scout: Boy Scouts of America

  Crown Royal: Seagram’s, Inc.

  Expedition: Ford Motor Company

  Glock: GlockGes.m.b.H.

  Google: Google.com

  Grand Hyatt: Hyatt Hotels Inc.

  Gulfstream: Gulfstream, Aerospace Corporation

  Instant Messenger: America Online

  Lincoln: Ford Motor Company

  Starbucks: The Starbucks Corporation

  Texas A&M: Texas A&M University Institution of Higher Education

  The Lone Ranger: Trendle-Campbell Enterprises

  Tums: GlaxoSmithKline Corporation

  Vogue: Conde Nast Magazines

  Willard Hotel: Intercontinental Hotels Corp.

  Zodiac: Zodiac

  Prologue

  It was raining, a steady thrumming on the broad leaves of the trees and plants that formed a thick canopy over the jungle floor. By the time it reached the thick carpet of dead plants and rotting wood it was more like a mist, a thick curtain of steam that sat heavily on the skin.

  Mark Halloran inhaled deeply, the sweet scent of vanilla and sarsaparilla plants mingling with that of the wild orchids. The dense rainforest of the Peruvian jungle held a wild mixture of flora whose perfume teased at the senses and conjured up images. Beneath the heavier perfume of these and other plants like cinchona and cedar, was the vague hint of the abundance of orchids growing in wild profusion.

  But none so arousing as the scent of the woman in his arms. Light jasmine drifted from the silken fall of her hair and mingled with the sweetness of her body. And the musk of her arousal. He ran his hand over the satiny surface of her skin, feeling every dip and hollow with the tips of his fingers. The indentation of her navel. The crease where hip and thigh joined. The soft bush of the curls covering her cunt.

  Bending his head he pulled a dusky nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it before pressing it flat against the roof of his mouth. He was rewarded with a soft moan and an arching of Faith’s body that pushed the nipple deeper into his mouth. His hand molded the full swell of her breast, loving the feel of its weight in his palm.

  His cock had been hard enough to drive nails from the moment they’d entered the tent that had been pitched for them. A jungle vacation with as many amenities as the rainforest had to offer. They’d nearly ripped their clothes in the urgency to get rid of them, to feel naked skin against naked skin. So many months had passed since they’d been together that he was afraid he’d come before they even got started.

  You’re Special Ops, asshole. You have legendary control. Use it now.

  So he’d gritted his teeth and dialed it back as much as he could, willing himself to take the time to do this properly.

  But just looking at her was enough to ramp up his simmering arousal. Her naked body was a work of art, lush hips and breasts, long legs and at the juncture of her thighs the soft nest of curls that hid the mysteries of her sex—the sweetest cunt he’d ever tasted or fucked. A wet heat that scorched him, drowned him with the liquid of her passion. His only conflict was whether to fuck her first with his mouth or his cock. He’d barely contained himself enough to urge her down to the mat with him, so great was the need to take her where they stood.

  He moved his mouth to the other nipple, poking at him so temptingly, and trailed his hand down her body over the soft swell of her tummy to the wet slit of her pussy. God, she was always so wet for him so quickly. How was he supposed to hold back?

  Faith opened her thighs to his touch and his thumb easily found the hot nub of her clitoris. As he pulled deeply on her taut nipple his thumb brushed back and forth against the tiny bundle of nerves, drawing the little cries of pleasure from her that turned him on so much.

  He lifted his head to brush his lips against hers, gently licking the seam of her lips, teasing at the corners, nipping lightly on the full lower one. He’d always been fascinated by the sensuous swell of those lips, loved kissing them and tasting them. Nipping on them. He thought he could spend hours just making love to her mouth.

  When she opened them he slipped his tongue inside, scraping over the edge of her teeth to find the hot slickness of the skin inside. The touch of her small tongue against his sent arrows of heat jolting through him, straight to his throbbing cock and his aching balls.

  Slow, asshole. Slow. Show her how much you appreciate her. How you feel about her.

  He danced with her tongue, darting back and forth over its surface while his thumb continued to work her clit in a slow, steady motion. Faith moaned again, the tight little sound echoing into his own mouth. Her hands pressed against his back, pulling him down closer to her.

  When she bent her legs, planting her feet firmly on the woven mat, a silent invitation to explore farther, he moved his hand until he could slide two finge
rs into the hot well of her cunt.

  Oh, god. Hot! Hot, hot, hot!

  She was so very wet, the walls of her pussy slippery with her juices, her flesh pulsing against his fingers.

  He tore his mouth away from her.

  “I can’t wait any longer.” His voice was so hoarse he didn’t even recognize it.

  “Then don’t,” she urged. “It’s been so long. I’m ready for you. Now.”

  Mark reached for the foil packet he’d dropped beside them, ripped it open with his teeth and extracted the latex sheath. Levering himself to his knees he deftly rolled it on with one hand, ready for action.

  But the sight of her wet, welcoming, pink pussy was so tempting, so mouthwatering, that first he had to have a taste. He lowered his head, spread her labia wide with his thumbs and lapped the length of her slit.

  “Ohhhhh.”

  The long exhalation of pleasure sent another surge of heat through him. God, he loved those sounds. So he did it again. And again. Until he wasn’t sure exactly who he was teasing. Licking the sweet-tart taste of her from his lips, he positioned himself, pressing the head of his cock at the opening of her vagina and with one hard roll of his hips he entered her wet heat.

  Oh, Jesus!

  The walls of her cunt clamped around him and it was like being burned alive with the sweetest heat. He gritted his teeth, every muscle in his body tightening with the need for release, but he held himself still, giving himself time to enjoy the feel of her like a hot glove around him.

  Faith lifted her legs to wrap them around his waist and dug her heels in at the small of his back, lifting herself to him as she did it.

  “Jesus, Faith,” he groaned. “I’m hanging on by a thread here.”

  “I’m ready,” she hissed. “It’s been so long, don’t make we wait any longer. Please.”

  “I can’t wait, either.”

  Drawing in a long breath he pounded into her, again and again, the slick walls of her cunt dragging at him with each thrust of his swollen shaft. Heat. Electricity. Power. It all flooded through him. Between them. Around them.

  He couldn’t seem to control himself, slamming into her harder and harder. The muscles around his spine tingled and his balls tightened and at the exact moment he feared he’d have to take the ride without her she clenched around him and they exploded together.

  He spurted again and again into the latex as her tight pussy muscles clamped around him, milking him and drawing every last drop of release from him. At the peak of his orgasm he threw back his head and screamed her name.

  Collapsing forward, he tried to catch his weight on his arms and rested his forehead on hers. His heart was hammering what felt like a million beats a minute and he couldn’t get enough air in his lungs.

  Outside the tent macaws screeched and parrots squawked, a jungle symphony underscored by the noise of the howler monkeys. Nature’s music that only enhanced the sensual heat of the rainforest that surrounded them.

  A monkey screamed again, and sudden pain shooting through his leg wiped away every vestige of the sexual satisfaction that had woven around him. He tried to tighten his arms around Faith but she wasn’t there. He wasn’t holding anyone.

  And the pain that had shattered the dream lashed him again, shrieking through his body.

  “So, Captain, Halloran. You call the name of your beloved in your sleep. Perhaps we have made you too comfortable.”

  Mark pried open his eyes and tried to look around. He was in a tent all right, but there wasn’t anything sensual about it. He lay on jungle dirt rather than soft woven mats, and there was no Faith. No soft woman in his arms. No scent of anything but the stink of sweat and dirt. And an evil-looking man who seemed to take great pleasure in causing him pain by prodding his leg. His injured leg, he remembered.

  A dream. It was all a dream. He was sweaty and grimy and his leg hurt like hell. He tried to move it and discovered it was tied at the ankle to a stake.

  And then it came back to him. The blown mission. The terrorist cell descending on them. His team ambushed and killed. Himself wounded and captured, by the very terrorist and arms dealer they’d been sent to take out. He was somewhere in the stinking Peruvian jungle and no one knew where the hell he was or even if he was alive.

  Shit!

  He dropped his head back to the dirt and closed his eyes again. Faith!

  Chapter One

  Damn!

  Faith Wilding stared at her computer monitor in frustration, the screen empty except for the annoying cursor winking at her. The first three chapters of her latest political thriller were due to her agent by the end of the month and she hadn’t even written the first word. Not once since she’d sold her first manuscript had she ever been stricken with writer’s block. Today, however, it seemed as if something had swept her mind bare, knocking out every word or phrase that might be taking root.

  She looked around her den, usually a place of comfort and inspiration. The warm earth tones on the rug that had been her grandmother’s were an accent on the polished hardwood floor. The couch and chair, covered in navy denim, showed traces of wear from all the times she’d lain or sat there reading manuscript drafts. The walls were lined with family pictures, faces smiling down on her with encouragement and support.

  Usually this room unlocked her mind and opened the gates for her thoughts to flow freely. Not tonight. She could have been sitting in a sterile room for all the good it was doing her.

  She rotated her head, easing the tension in her neck and shoulders. Maybe she should fix another cup of her favorite chai tea. Its energy might kick-start her brain.

  I need you.

  The familiar voice blasted through her mind.

  Mark! Oh God, Mark.

  Stunned, she tried to focus her thoughts but a white-hot pain pierced her body, stealing her breath. She clenched her fists against it and as it faded an image of Mark’s face, bruised and lined with pain, flashed briefly and was gone.

  Faith leaned back in her chair, using the skills she’d been taught to control her breathing and slow her racing pulse. Running her hands up and down her arms she discovered a fine sheen of perspiration on her skin.

  Mark!

  She tried to pull the image back but it was gone.

  Need you…captured…

  Captured! Dear God. He’d reached out to her from wherever he was. But how could she find him? He could be anywhere. She felt as if a part of her body had been severed. Closing her eyes and pushing everything else from her brain, she concentrated on sending a reply.

  I heard you. Where are you?

  She sat perfectly still, eyes still tightly shut, blocking out everything else, focusing as she’d been taught, to strengthen her message.

  Mark?

  She waited but the only thing that answered her was the heavy silence. Either his strength had given out or something—or someone—had blocked him.

  Finally she pushed her chair away from the desk and headed to the kitchen on legs not quite steady. Tea was definitely in order.

  The last time she’d heard from Mark Halloran was two years ago. That time she’d been sitting in a Starbucks drinking a mocha latte and checking her schedule on her PDA when the message hit her. Startled, she’d nearly spilled her coffee and looked around to make sure he wasn’t just standing two feet away.

  Hello, darlin’.

  That whiskey-smooth voice had warmed her blood and made her smile. And remember the one long weekend they’d had together before he’d left on a mission.

  Hi. Where are you?

  Far away.

  An image of him in a helicopter danced before her eyes, helmet securely on his head, rifle and other gear strapped to his body. As a Special Ops soldier, a member of the famed Delta Force, he was always in some far corner of the world on a mission that no one could discuss. Usually he was concentrating so hard on what he was doing there was no opportunity to clear his mind and reach out to her.

  Miss you, came the next message.
/>   Me too. You’ll never know how much. You still have my heart.

  The image had changed to one of him naked, grinning, his blue eyes laughing at her. Her body had heated and every pulse point had begun to throb. She’d looked around her carefully, sure every eye was on her but everyone had appeared to be attending to their own business. She’d carried that short message and those images with her for a long time.

  And now, tonight’s message. Shocking in its pain. Mark, stolid and steadfast. Bastion of strength. A soldier with special skills who’d stared at death more times than she’d ever know about. Mark never asked for help. The anguish in his voice filled her with a sense of dread. Fear drenched her and a cold knot of it tightened in her stomach. For him to send her this message the situation had to be out of control.

  But where was he? What had happened to him? And what was wrong that the only cry for help he could get out was telepathically to her?

  Leaning against the counter, sipping the hot tea, she thought about the first time they’d discovered their telepathic ability to communicate.

  * * * * *

  “Are you finished?”

  Fourteen-year-old Faith sat up so quickly the book she was reading slid off the end of the table. The resulting noise drew several hushing sounds from others in the library. Cheeks flushed with embarrassment, she leaned down and picked it up, then looked around. Had someone just spoken to her? Out loud? In the library?

  Shaking her head, she bent her attention again to the book in front of her.

  Let’s get out of here.

  She gripped her pen as she looked around again. There. In the corner. Mark grinning at her and winking. How had he done that, sent her that message? Sometimes during the past few years she’d had the feeling that she could almost—almost—hear his voice in her head but she’d passed it off as wishful thinking.