The Right Stuff. Merline Lovelace

entered the river channel. I’m going to take us under, then power up to full speed.”

      The calm announcement brought Mac’s head snapping around. Cari’s profile was outlined against the dark vegetation lining the riverbank. She kept her attention divided between the instrument panel and the view outside the bubble canopy, now narrowed to a fast-flowing river crowded above and on both sides by jungle.

      She had every intention of pushing ahead, with or without fire support from the squad of marines they’d planned to rendezvous with. Evidently, it hadn’t occurred to her to abandon their mission. It hadn’t occurred to Mac, either, until this moment.

      “Listen up, Lieutenant. We need to take another look at our operations plan. I…”

      “Don’t even think it.”

      The flat comeback snapped his brows together, but she didn’t give him time to respond. Slewing around, she raked him with a wire-brush look.

      “This is a two-person operation, McIver. If you go in, I go in.”

      He bit back the reminder that he was in command of the land phase of this mission. He knew damn well she’d remind him he hadn’t yet set foot on dry land.

      Satisfied she’d made her point, Cari prepared to take Pegasus under the river’s green surface.

      Twenty-six torturous miles later, she brought her craft up from the murky depths. Cari had seen more than her fill of submerged tree stump, twisting roots, slime-covered boulders and darting water snakes.

      Once above the surface, the jungle reached out to envelop them. When the water sluiced off the canopy, Cari got the eerie feeling she and Mac were alone in a dark, still universe. Only an occasional stray sunbeam penetrated the dense overgrowth hundreds of feet above. Strangler vines drooped down like ropes from entwined branches. Giant ferns fanned out to cover the riverbanks.

      Carefully, Cari navigated the last few yards to their designated rendezvous point. No one was waiting on the riverbank. No marines. No missionaries. No rebels or government troops.

      Mac swept both banks with high-powered Night Vision goggles. The goggles could penetrate the gloom beyond the banks far better than the human eye.

      “It looks clear,” he said tersely.

      Cari nodded. “Hold tight.”

      Repeating the process she’d tested only this morning in the Gulf waters just off Corpus Christi, she switched Pegasus from sea to land mode. The outer engines shut down and tucked against the hull. The propellers folded. The belly doors opened and the wide-track wheels descended.

      Like some primeval beast crawling up out of the swamp, Pegasus clawed his way up the riverbank. The wheel tread ate up the giant ferns and spit them out. But even a high-tech, all-terrain, all-weather assault vehicle was no match for the impenetrable jungle.

      Mac would have to hoof it from here. Killing the engines, Cari hit the switch to open the rear hatch. Smothering tropical heat instantly rushed in. So did an astonishing variety of flying insects. Swatting at a winged critter in a particularly virulent shade of orange, Cari climbed out of her seat and followed Mac to the hatch.

      “I’ll bring out the two Americans,” he told her. “You stay with Pegasus.”

      She swallowed her instinctive protest. With her craft secured and on dry land, the baton had passed. She was no longer in command. From now until Mac returned with the missionaries, this was his show.

      Feeling a little deflated, she watched as he hunkered down on his heels and dug through his pack. A few, quick smears decorated his face in shades of green and black. Thin black gloves covered his hands. He performed a radio check, chambered a round in his assault rifle, and slung the weapon over his shoulder. His gray-green eyes lasered into her as he confirmed their communications pattern.

      “I’ll signal you at half-hour intervals. If I miss one signal, wait another half hour. If I miss two, get the hell out of Dodge. Understand?”

      “Yes.”

      His gaze speared into her. “I mean it, Dunn. No stupid heroics. They could get us both killed.”

      He was right. She knew he was right. Yet her throat closed at the thought of leaving him in this smothering heat and darkness.

      “Two missed signals and you’re gone. Got that, Lieutenant?”

      She gave a tight nod. He returned it with a jerk of his chin and started off. He took two steps, only two, and swung back.

      “What the hell.”

      The muttered oath had Cari blinking in surprise. She blinked again when he strode back to her and caught her chin in his hand.

      “Mac, what are—?”

      His mouth came down on hers, hard and hot and hungry. Stunned, she stood stiff as an engine blade while his lips moved over hers. A moment later, he faded into the jungle. She was left with the tang of camouflage face paint in her nostrils and the taste of Mac on her lips.

      Chapter 3

      “That was smart, McIver. Really smart.”

      Thoroughly disgusted with himself, Mac moved through the dense undergrowth. He’d made some questionable moves in his life. Tangling with the senator’s wife had been one of them. Laying that kiss on Caroline Dunn was another. What was this thing he had for married—or almost married—women?

      Calling himself an idiot one more time, Mac forced his thoughts away from the woman, the kiss and the heat that brief contact had sent spearing right through his belly.

      The mission lay some three kilometers from the river. Five or six kilometers beyond that Second Recon had run smack into a heavily armed rebel force. The marines had said they’d fall back and draw the rebels away from the mission, but Mac wasn’t taking any chances. He kept his tread light on the damp, spongy earth and his assault weapon at the ready as he pushed through the giant ferns.

      Once away from the river, the ferns thinned and the going got easier. The overhead canopy was so thick only the occasional stray sunbeam could penetrate. It was like moving through a dim, cavernous cathedral with tall columns of trees spearing straight up to support the vaulted ceiling. The deep shadows provided excellent concealment for him and, unfortunately, for potential enemies.

      He pushed on, using the GPS built into his handheld digital radio to check his position and send Cari a silent signal at the prearranged times. With each step, his jumpy nerves steadied and his concentration narrowed until there was only Mac, his weapon and the gloom ahead.

      As swift and stealthy as a panther, he cut through the jungle. Every sense had moved to full alert, every flutter of an orange-winged butterfly and slither of a spotted lizard sent a message. So did the sudden, raucous screech of a parrot.

      Mac spun to his right, dropped into a crouch, and caught a flash of scarlet as the bird took wing. Peering into the gloom, Mac tried to see what had spooked it. Nothing else moved. No leafy ferns swayed.

      Forcing the knotted muscles at the base of his skull to relax, Mac came out of the crouch. Without warning, something hard and sharp smacked into his forehead just above his right eyebrow.

      Cursing, he ignored the blood pouring into his eye and aimed his assault rifle at the base of a hollow-trunked strangler fig. When the shadows moved, his finger went tight on the trigger.

      “Whoever’s in there better show yourself. Now!”

      He repeated the warning in Spanish and was searching for the few words of Caribe he’d memorized when another missile came zinging at him. This one he managed to dodge. It ricocheted off the tree behind him and landed at his feet.

      A rock! Mac saw in disgust. Damned if he’d hadn’t taken a direct hit from a rock.

      “You’ve got five seconds to show yourself,” he shouted, blinking away the blood. “Four, three, two…”