“Okay, sorry. I just had to get that off my chest. Go on.”
He drew in a deep breath. “When I woke up after the crash, I was?—”
Shouting from outside interrupted him. Then came a terrified scream.
All confessions forgotten, they scrambled out of the bed. She pulled on the closest pair of loose pants and dug out a clean t-shirt from the tote that held her clothes. Her last one, thanks to Lincoln screwing up her load of laundry. Of course he was forgiven for that because of last night. Face it, she’d forgive him for a lot because he’d been there for her in so many ways last night.
Mostly clothed, they raced out of her tent and stopped dead at the sight that greeted them.
On the other end of the camp, two men in black commando gear were dragging Rory the pilot out of the camp. He was putting up a fight, but they ignored his kicks and struggles. Another commando aimed an automatic rifle at Robert, Sasha and Cody—all still in their nightwear. Robert had gotten closest to the attackers. Now he was backing away, his hands in the air.
Next to her, Mathilda felt Lincoln start toward them, but she grabbed his arm to hold him back. “There’s nothing you can do,” she hissed. “They’re armed and we’re not.”
How had they even gotten here? Had they hiked in overnight? That would explain why they were all wearing night-vision goggles.
Rory’s arm was tense as steel under her palm. His jaw worked as he fought back his impulse to help his pilot—commendable, she thought. But he listened to her and stayed where he was.
A fourth man raced out of the guest tent, carrying everything that Lincoln had taken from the plane—his overnight bag, the leather briefcase. She didn’t see the weird lunchbox thingie, so maybe he hadn’t bothered with that. He ran past the other commandos and disappeared into the jungle.
“Fuck,” Lincoln muttered.
“Where are you taking me?” Rory shouted as they dragged him along. “This is outrageous! Do you know who you’re dealing with?”
“I wonder what he means by that,” Mathilda murmured to Lincoln. “But at least he doesn’t sound scared. Maybe he knows you’ll help him.”
The men ignored the pilot’s shouts as they manhandled him along the path. Rory kept yelling about ransoms, and how much they were going to regret this, and other things that made no sense to Mathilda. Something about knowing the president? How could a pilot know a president?
He must be having some of those post-coma delusions Sasha had mentioned.
Then again, he was being kidnapped by armed commandos, so maybe those delusions were accurate, and some foreign government really, really wanted to get their hands on a skilled pilot.
When the others had all disappeared from sight, the last commando turned to face Robert and the others. “We were never here,” he ordered. “Not a word to anyone.”
And then he was gone, too. A few minutes later, a helicopter rose from the jungle about two hundred yards away, tilted to one side, then headed north. She hadn’t heard it land, but then again, it had been raining pretty hard until now. All the surrounding trees still glistened with moisture.
Robert wheeled around, his tattoos glowing in the morning light, and stalked the entire length of the camp until he reached Lincoln. He gave him a light shove in the chest. “You want to tell us what’s going on? I just had a machine gun aimed at my head. All we did is rescue you and give your pilot a place to recover until he woke up. Now we got death squads coming in here and threatening us? What the fuck, man?”
Cody joined them. He was frowning thoughtfully, as if trying to work something out in his always calm and quiet way. “Yeah, and why did they take your pilot? Why not you?”
That was an excellent point. Mathilda looked over at Lincoln, who was scrubbing a hand across the back of his neck.
“Look, I need to explain some things,” he said in a low voice.
“Yeah, like why you were hiding out in Mathilda’s tent while armed men kidnapped your pilot?” Robert demanded.
Mathilda jumped to Lincoln’s defense. “He wasn’t hiding. He just happened to be there for very good reasons. He had no idea those guys were going to come. Did you, Lincoln?”
His dark eyebrows drew together over his long-lashed eyes. He looked so handsome it almost hurt. “No, of course not, but?—”
“But? What but?” She faced him, fists on her hips. “Are you saying you suspected it might happen? Is that why you came to my tent?”
“Jesus, Mathilda. No, absolutely not.” His dark gaze drilled into her. “You know why I was there.” The heat in that look struck sparks deep in her body. Great. What a perfect moment to get turned on by him.
“We don’t need to hear about your sex life,” Cody said quietly. “We want to know why we just got guns pointed at us.”
“I promise you, I don’t know why.” Lincoln held up his hands, palms out. “I’m as shocked as you are. But?—”
There was that “but” again. “Go on,” Mathilda urged. “What comes after the ‘but’? Just say it.”
