Page 25 of Crocodile Tears (Romance Expected Dating Service #2)

Cal

The jungle roads wind deeper into territory that feels increasingly remote from civilization.

I navigate by compass bearing and geographical logic, choosing paths that favor our lighter vehicle while putting maximum distance between us and our pursuer.

The canopy overhead grows thicker, filtering dawn light into green shadows that make depth perception challenging.

Becci maintains her chemical vigilance while cataloging the changing ecosystem with obvious scientific excitement. She points out plant species that suggest altitude changes and soil composition, creating a running commentary that’s both educational and oddly soothing given our circumstances.

“Those are strangler figs.” She gestures toward towering trees while I navigate around a fallen log. “The root structure indicates we’re moving into higher elevation rainforest ecosystem, which means better drainage and potentially clearer water sources.”

I adjust our route to avoid a muddy section of road. “Useful information for survival planning.”

She continues her botanical survey with obvious enthusiasm. “I’m naturally inclined toward data collection, even when people are shooting at us.”

The pursuit vehicle has fallen behind as we traverse terrain that challenges their heavier truck. I take advantage of our lead to seek a defensive position where we can assess our situation and plan the next phase of extraction.

A small clearing appears ahead, hidden by dense vegetation but accessible through a gap that I recognize from my reconnaissance preparations. I guide the Jeep off the main track and through the natural concealment to reach a space that provides cover while offering multiple escape routes.

Becci examines our surroundings with obvious scientific interest. “This looks like you’ve been here before.”

I retrieve a camouflaged container from its hiding place beneath fallen logs. “I cached emergency supplies here during my initial reconnaissance. Standard operational planning includes contingencies for extraction complications.”

She watches me unpack the container with systematic attention to detail. “You prepared for the possibility that your original extraction plan wouldn’t work?”

“I prepared for the possibility that everything would go wrong simultaneously.”

She inspects the contents of my supply cache with the approach of someone conducting inventory analysis.

She holds up medical supplies, water purification tablets, emergency rations, and communication equipment with obvious approval for my organizational system.

The backpack Margo sent her is long gone, unfortunately, left behind at my cache located near the swampy area I used to approach the facility.

“What’s this?” She examines a compact device she doesn’t recognize.

“Emergency beacon. Military-grade GPS transmitter that connects to satellite networks regardless of local communication infrastructure.”

Her expression shifts to concern. “For summoning backup extraction?”

I finish organizing the supplies while explaining the device’s dual purpose. “For summoning backup extraction or notifying next of kin, depending on circumstances.”

She gives me a look that suggests she finds my contingency planning both practical and morbid. “How optimistic.”

I conduct a quick perimeter check while responding. “I’m a realist. Optimism gets people killed in tactical situations.”

While I assess our defensive position, she continues examining my supplies with the systematic approach of a researcher evaluating experimental equipment. The clearing offers good sight lines and natural defensibility, but staying here longer than necessary increases risk of discovery.

“You’re injured.” I note the blood on her sleeve when I return from the perimeter check.

Becci examines her arm with clinical detachment. “Superficial laceration from broken glass during our exit through the motor pool. Approximately two inches long, minimal depth, and no apparent foreign matter embedded in it.”

I retrieve medical supplies from the cache and approach her position. “You’re documenting your injury like a research specimen.”

She rolls up her sleeve to reveal a graze that’s bleeding but not serious. “I’m assessing the damage objectively to determine appropriate treatment protocols. The wound is healing faster than normal human rates because my shifter physiology is already addressing the tissue damage.”

I kneel beside her with antiseptic and bandages. “May I?”

She extends her arm with the trust of someone comfortable with clinical procedures. “Please, though I should note reptilian shifters often have different pain responses than mammals.”

I begin cleaning the wound while processing this information. “Different how?”

“Higher pain tolerance but increased sensitivity to temperature changes.” She watches my work with professional interest. “Also, we tend to heal with less scarring if the wound is kept at optimal temperature and humidity levels.”

Her pain response is indeed different. She shows less reaction to the antiseptic but obvious awareness of the temperature differential between the cleaning solution and her skin. I adjust my technique accordingly while applying the bandage.

“Your medical knowledge extends to shifter-specific treatment protocols?”

She observes my bandaging technique with obvious approval. “My research requires understanding of how genetic modifications interact with enhanced healing capabilities. I’ve learned more about shifter physiology than most medical professionals.”

I secure the bandage while considering the implications of her expertise. “Including combat applications?”

“Including theoretical combat applications that I hoped never to test in practical situations.”

I finish with the medical supplies and settle against a fallen log across from her. The filtered sunlight creates natural camouflage while providing enough light for conversation. “We need to talk about what happens next.”

She adjusts her position to face me directly. “I assume that involves explaining what you actually do for a living beyond understated security consulting.”

“It involves explaining what I used to do for a living and what I’m trying to transition toward.”

Becci tilts her head with obvious curiosity. “Used to do?”

I decide that someone who’s just helped me conduct tactical sabotage deserves complete honesty about my background.

“Military service initially. Army Rangers, specialized in reconnaissance and infiltration operations.” I watch her face for judgment that doesn’t come.

“After discharge, I transitioned to private military contracting.”

“Mercenary work.”

I nod while organizing medical supplies. “Mercenary work. International security consulting that operates in legal gray areas and involves clients who can’t or won’t use official channels.”

She processes this information with the same analytical approach she applies to everything else. “Hence your familiarity with building infiltration, electronic security systems, and international criminal organizations.”

“Hence my familiarity with a lot of things that don’t typically appear on civilian dating profiles.”

She leans forward slightly. “What made you want to transition away from that work?”

The question makes me pause for a second as I consider motivations that I haven’t fully examined, even internally.

“Partly, it’s a growing disillusionment with the moral ambiguity of private military operations.

Most of my recent contracts have involved protecting people who probably don’t deserve protection or eliminating threats that probably don’t deserve elimination.

” I adjust my position on the uneven ground.

“Also, I’m getting older and starting to want things that are incompatible with that lifestyle. ”

“Things like what?”

I retrieve water purification tablets from the supply cache while formulating my response. “Things like relationships that don’t end when the contract expires or going to sleep without checking for threats. I want normal civilian concerns that don’t involve tactical planning.”

Becci examines the jungle around us while absorbing this information. “Yet you just conducted an international rescue operation that involved significant tactical planning and threat assessment.”

“I just conducted an international rescue operation for someone I care about.”

She looks at me with obvious curiosity. “Someone you care about after one date and a kidnapping rescue?”

I begin treating water from a nearby stream that she’s already identified as relatively safe. “Someone I care about after one date, a kidnapping rescue, amazing danger sex, and discovering she approaches dangerous situations with scientific fascination rather than appropriate terror.”

She laughs. “Would appropriate terror have been more attractive?”

I pause in my water preparation to meet her gaze. “Appropriate terror would have been more predictable. Your actual response has been significantly more attractive.”

Becci grins while testing the security of her bandage. “What kind of response would that be?”

“Tactical competence combined with scientific curiosity and complete lack of hysteria about circumstances that would send most people into emotional collapse.”

She organizes medical supplies with characteristic efficiency. “I don’t tend toward emotional collapse under pressure. It’s one of my more useful personality traits.”

“It’s one of your most attractive personality traits.”

The water treatment requires several minutes to complete, during which Becci continues her systematic approach to understanding our situation. She examines the surrounding vegetation while I work.

“Speaking of attractive personality traits,” she continues, “I have questions about Gila monster shifting capabilities in tactical situations.”

I look up from the water purification process. “Such as?”