Page 43 of Secret Mission

It’s already shin deep and rising fast.

“There’s no way I can bail this. It’s going down. We’re going to have to swim.”

“Again?”

Leaping into action, with her mouth locked in a grim line, Allison makes a beeline for the clothing.

Seeing her upset again hits me hard.

Get it together, Truck.

Clicking into gear, I assess what we’re facing. As soon as we hit the shore, we’re going to be either in the jungle or on the riverbank.

The ocean beach is still a mile away at least. That was my goal for a place to spend the night. But that was with the boat anchored in a cove.

That plan’s shot.

We need supplies.

I snatch up the fabric I had worn around my waist and fashion a makeshift bag by tying the corners. “Grab everything you can that looks useful.”

Filling the cloth with provisions, I scan the boat for anything else we might want. Survival requires a minimum, but comfort is a different story.

Ally makes me consider everything from a different light.

“What happened to the boat?”

“Hard to say.” I grab some fishing line and hooks, shoving them into my pocket. “I didn’t inspect the boat before I took it. It was floating. The engine worked.”

“Stole it.”

“I planned to return it.”

She gives me a look—one raised brow—as she climbs onto the bed, which is now just a couple of inches above the rising water.

I have to force myself not to watch as she wiggles her pretty little ass into her pants, shirt and jacket.

Still no panties.

“Hey.” She tosses me my shirt.

When I snatch it out of the air, instinct has me shoving it to my nose, inhaling deeply as my eyes close. “God, I hate for this to get wet. Got your sexy scent all over it.”

“Here we are, about to go down with the ship.” She shoves my arm with a laugh as she hurries to the side of the boat. “And you’re worried about that?”

I chuckle and tug the shirt on over my head. “Can you blame me?”

She startles when I pick her up in my arms. No skin to skin this time.

I’m hating that she’s covered from wrist to toes now, but at the same time glad she’s protected.

With a wiggle, she protests, “What are you doing?”

“Getting out of here.” I hold her with one arm and set the bundle of supplies on top. “Hold these like your life depends on it, I’ll swim us to shore.”

“I may never go swimming again after all this is over.”

“You wouldn't have liked BUDS. It took weeks to dry out, but I agree, a nice clear tropical ocean would be nice right about now. At least I’m warning you this time. Here we go. Hold your breath.”