Rebel: Chapter 21

Lima, Peru “Wind speeds, safety measures, equipment list, and plan F, all as you requested,” I said as I handed Cruz the manila envelope.

Sitting next to him in the small van that carried us from the port to the launch site was pure heaven and hell wrapped up in one delicious scent—Cruz. Even the ocean breeze coming in from the window couldn’t overpower him to me.

“Plan F?” he asked, flipping through the papers.

“Well, if we don’t land correctly, it’s not really a plan B, it’s more like a plan Fucked,” Landon answered from behind us.

“I wish we had Little John. I’d feel a lot better,” Leah answered. “How much longer is he in California?”

I tensed, and Cruz’s eyes darted toward me. Little John. “He’ll be back when we hit Buenos Aires,” I said, trying to keep my voice level. He’d recognize Cruz, there was no doubt. I just had to get to him before that moment happened, and then I’d beg him to keep my secret.

Our secret.

“This all looks good. Dangerous and stupid as hell, of course, but I’ve learned not to expect less out of you guys,” Cruz said. “What kind of landing are you thinking?”

“One where we put our feet on the deck of the ship without killing ourselves,” Pax called out from the third row.

“Smart-assery gets you nowhere, Wilder,” Cruz said, his voice mellow and almost bored. “I’m assuming a straight on, right? Not a ninety-degree turn to approach?”

“Straight approach, no turns. Keeping the power on until we touch down for purposes of accuracy, and we’ll drop the chute at landing. If we lose them, we lose them, but I’m not having someone dragged overboard,” Pax answered.

“Good.” He nodded as he read through the plan one last time. “I really wish you’d land on the beach, but I know you won’t.”

“There’s zero challenge in that,” I said. “No use for the cameras and nothing fun.”

He shot me a look that to anyone else might look chastising, but I knew it was pure frustration. He walked a fine line between letting us do our jobs and keeping us within the parameters of what he felt was safe.

“Okay. Okay,” he mumbled to himself. “Just make sure you’re as on top of this landing as you can be. I’m still really not thrilled about it.”

“You could do it with us,” Wilder offered.

My heart skipped. “You could,” I told Cruz, trying to keep the excitement out of my voice. “This was on the list you gave us, right? You know how to paraglide?”

“Sure, recreationally, but I probably have more hours than you do,” he muttered, still examining the papers. He reached back with one hand and rubbed across his neck.

I caught myself just before I offered to take over the neck rub. It had been four days since we’d been alone together. Four days since he’d given me the most spectacular orgasm of my life. Four days since he’d told me that he was mine.

Mine. I’d never really thought of myself as possessive before. Boys were boys, and no boy was worth my reputation or a stunt. But knowing Cruz was actually mine made me want to tattoo my name on his damned forehead so every other woman knew he was spoken for.

“And you just happen to have an extra rig?” he asked as we took the switchbacks to the top of the bluff that Lima District sat on.

“No, we brought one for you,” Wilder said, grinning ear to ear. I rolled my eyes at him in the rearview mirror, and he laughed. “Come on, once you gave us that list of everything you know how to do, didn’t you think we’d con you into coming with us? You don’t get an official Renegade nickname until you complete a stunt.”

“Whatever shall I do?” Cruz drawled. “You brought it because you know I’m still unhappy about your landing zone, but you figure if I’m with you I won’t complain.”

“He’s on to you, Pax.” Landon laughed.

“And what about Leah?” Cruz asked. “I noticed she’s not with us. She didn’t want to ride tandem?”

“There was no chance I was including her in this. I’m good. Damn good, but I can’t control the wind, and if a gust comes that takes me overboard, I’m not risking her,” Pax answered.

“But he’d risk you,” Cruz whispered so softly only I heard him.

“I risk myself,” I replied. “I am just as capable, if not more so than you are, so tuck away the alpha asshole, okay?”

“You like the alpha asshole,” he whispered with a smirk.

“We’re here,” the driver told us as we pulled up to the site. We were in the middle of a large soccer field near the edge of the bluff that would give us enough space to get a good takeoff before the plunge. It didn’t hurt that we were using motorized paragliders that would allow us to fly.

I raised my face to the sun as I stepped out of the van. Being in South America in March definitely had its perks. Plus, in the next few weeks those perks would turn to ice when we hit the southernmost tip of South America. I’d take what I could get when I could get it.

Ironic how that describes your relationship, too.

“Penna?” Zoe asked, coming from the other van.

“I’ll catch up,” I told Landon as they headed over to where the rigs were set up, a little too close together. We’d have to space them out more before takeoff. Bobby’s crew was good, but they didn’t make up for Little John’s absence. Even if he was the one who could fully expose me. “What’s up?” I asked Zoe.

“I just wanted to say thank you for fighting for my own rig. I know the guys figured I’d go tandem, or not at all, and that you’re the one who spoke up for me.” Her brown eyes lacked their typical winged eyeliner and heavy makeup. She looked younger and a hell of a lot less vixenish…if that was even a word.

“Zoe, you have over a hundred hours in one of these. I checked the logs. I know your skill level. You’re not here because I fought for you. You’re here because you earned it. You put in the work, you’re talented, and you can land a rig better than those two idiots behind you.” I pointed to where Alex and one of the other Renegades, Nathan, stood. “I know you and I don’t often see eye to eye, but maybe we’d be a lot closer to that if you realized you have more value in the Renegades than who you’re sleeping with.”

“I haven’t slept with anyone since…” Her gaze wandered. “After that happened, I just wanted to stand on my own for a while. See where I really fit in.”

“Since Landon. I know. That’s one reason I am willing to stand up and fight for you, because you’re finally fighting for yourself. Go strap in.”

She walked past Landon without so much as glancing his way, and I blew out a sigh. That girl was all sorts of screwed in the head sometimes, but there was still hope that she’d eventually remove her head from her ass and focus more on her talent and less on her teammates. Landon had been the last in a long string of Renegades she’d worked her way through, but Rachel showing up four months ago put a prompt end to that. Landon had never stopped loving Rachel in the two years they’d been apart, and Zoe had never stood a chance. Of course she’d taken it out on him and nearly destroyed his relationship with Rachel with her pettiness, but I liked to think that change was possible for everyone.

I walked over to my rig and tied my hair into a knot to keep it clear.

“Too bad, I like it down,” Cruz whispered as he walked by.

A shiver raced down my spine. That smooth, deep voice, coupled with his accent, never failed to affect me in the best ways. It was definitely on the short list for his sexiest features along with his dimples. And those eyes, and every single cut line of his abs. Screw it, the man was simply the embodiment of sex—which ironically was the one thing he was withholding.

I laid out the wing of my paraglider, which was set up right next to the one Cruz had been assigned, and checked each individual line, making sure the rig was free of any knots. Given that we were about thirty feet from the edge of the bluff, I didn’t exactly have a lot of time to correct if one snagged or bunched. A bunched line meant that side would drag down the wing, and the last thing I wanted to do was spiral down the cliff edge.

I smiled for the cameras when Bobby shoved them in my face, and explained the nature of the stunt, and then I snapped into my harness as they ran off to interview Wilder.

“Need a double check?” Cruz asked, walking over to stand in front of me.

I hiked an eyebrow at him, glancing around us as innocently as I could.

“We’re set up right next to each other. If you were Wilder, I’d ask him.”

“Well, aren’t you polite. Go ahead and check me out,” I said, lifting my arms from their sides. God, I even flirted with him when I didn’t mean to.

“Happy to be of service.” He pulled at my snaps, checked the lock on my carabineer, and then gently tugged at my harness, making sure it was snug.

I’d been double-checked by just about every Renegade on our team, but it had always been quick and professional, a courtesy to make sure I didn’t get myself killed with loose rigging or a mistake I didn’t catch.

Cruz’s hands elevated my pulse, quickened my breath, and gave me flashbacks of when there were way fewer clothes between us. But even more than the physical, the way he checked me and then checked again made me feel protected, cared for in a way I never had been before.

Sure, Pax, Landon, Nick, they all loved me, cared about and for me, but there was something in Cruz’s movements and blatant concern on his face that made me feel cherished.

God, I had it so bad for this beautiful man.

“Good to go?” I asked, chancing a look at him.

“Looks good,” he said softly.

“Hey, need a check?” Landon asked.

“Dr. Delgado has me,” I answered.

“Doc, you need a check?”

Cruz looked me over one more time and nodded. “Yeah, that would be great.”

I tuned the radio in my helmet to the right channel and out of the corner of my eye watched Landon check Cruz.

Ten minutes later, every Renegade was harnessed in, and there was just enough of a breeze to pick up our wings behind us about six inches off the ground. Perfect to make sure every line was where it was supposed to be.

The engines, huge circles with one giant rotating prop, were warmed up and harnessed to our backs.

I looked to Cruz, who was examining his handheld brake system.

“Nervous over there, Doc?” I asked.

“Only about you sticking the landing.” Cruz’s voice filled my helmet.

I laughed, the sound brighter than I’d managed in a while. “You just worry about yourself, old man.”

“Old?”

I shrugged as Paxton counted us down.

Cruz muttered something that sounded like, “I’ll show you old.”

There were ten of us in one giant line, and starting at the right, Paxton ran forward. His wing caught, the sail rising above him, and he took to the air, steadily climbing in altitude.

Zoe took off next, then Landon and the others until the only ones left were me, Cruz, and the cameraman Bobby had hired in L.A. to keep up with us. Apparently our GoPro footage was great, but he wanted a more professional angle for the stuff we had coming up.

“See you on deck,” I said to Cruz.

Then I focused.

I ran forward, feeling the lines behind me tense, then pull as the wing caught in the breeze. Looking left, then right, I made sure both edges of the canopy were deployed equally and rising at the same rate, and as they rose above my head, my feet were no longer running—I was airborne. Shifting my weight, I sat back in the harness, crossing my feet in front of me as if I was at home watching TV.

Flying was a pure shot of nitrous to my system, making me feel ethereal and yet all too mortal at the same time. My stomach dropped deliciously as we passed over the stretch of highway that ran between the bottom of the bluff and the beach, and then we were over ocean.

“You make it okay back there, Doc?” I asked.

“Right behind you, Rebel,” Cruz answered.

We followed the beach from an altitude of about five hundred feet—nothing too high considering I’d been up at about six thousand feet in one of these before, but infinitely more fun for sightseeing.

The wind deafened any other noise as the radio was as quiet as my thoughts. Once again, that blissful silence took over my brain, where nothing existed outside the moment—the stunt.

Pax broke the radio silence first. “We’ve got about a ten-minute flight to where the ship is in port, so have some fun. Don’t do anything that will have Dr. Delgado up our asses, okay?”

A few cheers went out over the waves, and that rush I’d been waiting for hit my system. Every nerve in my body woke up, ready and waiting for whatever I decided.

I chose to go for it.

Splitting off from the group, I rose in altitude until I hit a little over a thousand feet. Then I adjusted, dipped to the right, and barrel-rolled. The ocean and sky blended into a kaleidoscope of blue as I tumbled, rolling end over end.

Adrenaline flooded my veins, the taste sweet in my mouth, and everything sharpened. This was my drug, and I was fully, wholeheartedly an addict.

Leveling out, I laughed.

“Holy. Shit.” Cruz sounded purely dumbstruck.

“Still worried about me back there?” I teased him, watching Rachel fly so far beneath me that she was dipping her feet into the waves.

“A little worried about your sanity, maybe.”

“What are you pulling back there?” Wilder asked.

“Just a few barrel rolls,” I answered.

“Ahhhh, now that’s the Rebel we know and love,” he said with pure affection.

Just for fun, I rose back up and did another series, letting the world roll with me. Each dip and swing swept another layer of darkness off my heart until I felt as bright and clean as the sun above me.

The strangest yearning took hold of my heart—I wanted my bike back, needed the freedom that engine and those wheels gave me. Maybe it wasn’t just the bike but the need to reclaim what I’d shoved away when Brooke had come unhinged.

“I wish you could be here,” I whispered off coms to the sister who wanted nothing to do with me.

“Okay, we’re coming up on approach. Remember the plan is tackle this airport-style. Everyone circles in a holding pattern so we don’t clog the landing strip. Wind report says we need to come over the bridge area. Coming in from the front is more dangerous than we’d like.”

The “landing strip” was the small, flat surface that covered the pool toward the front of the ship on the top deck. The production crew had built it for us to specifications, but from here it looked a hell of a lot smaller than what we’d intended.

“How is Camera Boy doing back there?” I asked.

“Camera Man is fine,” the guy fired back, and I instantly liked him.

“Good to know. Don’t die on us, okay? The legal red tape would be a bitch.”

“Yeah, yeah, got it.”

The ship was anchored offshore, so at least it wasn’t moving, but that didn’t give me any warm fuzzies considering a gust could take me into the water or I could miss entirely and smack into the side of the boat. On camera. In front of the entire universe.

No pressure or anything.

“Okay everyone, remember to lose your canopies the minute you land. The crew knows to grab them, and you, if you go with it,” Pax instructed. “Nova, you want to lead us in?”

“You got it,” Landon said, and headed for the landing zone as we all began to circle in a holding pattern. The wind was stronger off the shore, blowing him sideways a few times. He corrected, landing at the edge of the marked zone. His canopy flew back toward the bridge, and the crew caught it.

“One down,” Rachel said.

One by one, they started to land, Rachel missing and putting down in the middle of a few deck chairs that ended up sliding with the canopy when she unsnapped.

Cruz landed perfectly, coming across the bridge deck and dropping down with impressive accuracy. He unhooked from his canopy, turning fast enough to grab the lines himself and pull it in.

Self-sufficient show-off.

If we’d had private radio channels, I would have told him as much.

With only Pax and the cameraman left in the sky with me, it was my turn. I circled until I was at the back of the ship, then came in slow. The wind was too unpredictable to come in without motorized power. I passed over the bridge, but just as I went in for a landing, a gust of wind blew me straight off course.

“Fuck.”

“So ladylike,” Landon said.

“Shut up,” I threw back.

“Go back around,” Cruz ordered.

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen.” Pulling a ninety degree turn, I came in from the front of the boat.

“Shit,” I muttered, lifting my feet over a table in the restaurant section. “Excuse me, coming through,” I said to the students in my way, who ducked, a few of the girls shrieking.

I hit the landing pad at a run, and the moment I heard the canopy hit the ground behind me, I unhooked the two locks at my waist, setting the wing free. I spun as the chute raced toward me—Pax hadn’t been kidding about the wind report—and I jumped as the wing sped beneath my feet and into the waiting arms of the production staff.

Turning toward the cheering crowd that had gathered to watch us land, I met the intensely angry eyes of Cruz.

I took off my helmet and walked toward him, where he’d already removed his helmet and harness.

“Seriously?”

I shrugged. “Nailed it.”

“Death. Of. Me.” He punctuated every word with a finger point in my direction. “I told you to go back around.”

“And I’ll let you know when I take my orders from you.”

His nostrils flared as his jaw flexed. “That was unreasonable.”

“Do you have any idea how many times I’ve landed a motorized paraglider with the wind instead of against it? At least a dozen.”

“On a ship? Where your landing zone is either dead on or just plain dead?”

“Did you see me go overboard? I’m more than capable of landing that, because, oh, that’s right…I just did.”

Something moved to my side, and I immediately caught on to the camera that was close enough to hear every word. Shit. “I’m sorry that as my faculty advisor, you’re upset that I chose to land when you were against it, but being the professional I am, I gauged my ability against the wind and made my choice.”

His eyes flickered toward the camera, and he sighed. “Next time let’s discuss contingencies. I’d rather this not happen again on my watch.”

“Noted.”

The camera left as Pax came in for a landing, and I breathed a sigh of relief but didn’t say anything else. There were still people all around us, and I knew that just like our kisses, the fights would have to wait until we were behind closed doors, too.

Pax landed perfectly and walked straight to Leah, the documentary crew zooming in on something I knew Pax would make them cut later.

Cruz and I moved toward the edge of the landing zone as the cameraman came in to land. He cleared the bridge with nearly no room to spare, and I cringed as his foot smacked the railing. That was going to hurt like a bitch later.

He was lined up to make contact with us, and came down steady toward the landing zone. As he met the surface at a run, another gust of wind knocked him sideways, dragging him across the deck toward the railing. Cruz broke into a run, hurdling over a table and then a set of chairs as the cameraman slammed into the side deck railing, his chute already extended over the port side.

Cruz reached him just as the cameraman’s feet lifted off the ground, his massive hands slamming into the man’s waist.

The chute flew free, billowing with the wind into the wild of the Pacific Ocean, while Cruz held the cameraman safely on board.

“Holy shit,” Pax called out as we ran toward them.

“You okay?” I asked Cruz and the cameraman.

“Yeah.”

“Good to go.”

“Okay, what’s your name?” I asked the cameraman, who was a shade whiter than the paint on our boat. “Because after that, I kind of feel like I need to know it.”

“Victor,” he said, collapsing into the nearest deck chair and putting his head between his knees.

“Well, Victor, that was close.” Pax clapped him on the back. “And, Doc, I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone move that fast. Thank you.”

“No need to thank me.” He nodded at Pax, shot me a look I couldn’t interpret, and left.

I smiled through the interviews, talked about my choice to change up my landing instead of doing a second approach, and counted down every second until I could get out of there.

About an hour later, I walked into our suite and relaxed into the silence. Rachel had made dinner plans with Landon, and I was blissfully alone as we pulled out of Lima, the boat fairly even on the calm seas.

I kicked off my shoes in the entry hall. If I took a quick shower, I might be able to coordinate sneaking in some time with Cruz.

My bedroom door opened, and a tan hand attached to a muscular arm gripped my wrist, yanking me inside.

The door shut milliseconds before I found my back against it. Cruz hovered over me, pinning my hands above my head. Our eyes met in a war without words, stubbornness for stubbornness, both outmatched by the all-consuming desire that neither of us could escape.

His mouth found mine, and I opened for him, welcoming his kiss. He wasn’t hard or commanding as I expected, but slow, sensual, utterly devastating in his thoroughness.

“Cruz,” I moaned as his hands slid down my arms, brushing the outer curves of my breasts and ribs to frame my waist. The ability to say his name felt like the greatest privilege, freeing myself to voice the longing I felt for him every minute of the day—the same longing I had to keep secret in public.

My hands grazed the back of his head as I looped my arms around his neck, and he pulled me against him so our bodies were flush.

He kissed me a step past breathless, a moment longer than forever, until he had me arching in to him, everything forgotten but the slide of his tongue and the subtle caress of his hands.

Pulling away, he cupped my cheek with his hand. “You scared me. And before you get all defensive, I am well aware that you can handle yourself. I know that you are the best at what you do, and that your reputation is earned. Logically, I understand that you were fully in control. Common sense tells me that if anyone else had pulled what you did, I wouldn’t be half as mad. But this—” He put my hand over his pounding heart. “This does not speak logic. This stopped working the minute you pulled the turn, and it didn’t begin beating again until I saw you standing safely on the landing deck. This will not listen to reason, because it’s too busy being terrified by how much of it you already own. Do you understand me?”

If I was a swooning kind of girl, I would have been on the floor. As it was, my knees definitely went a little unsteady. “I scared you.”

“You scared me. You scare me every day. And after what almost happened to that Victor guy? Jesus, Penelope, that could have been you.” His eyes went wild, and his grip on my waist tightened.

I ran a hand through his hair, back down his neck to rest it next to my other near his heart. “No, it couldn’t have. You are right. I am the best at what I do. And yes, sometimes I get hurt. Sometimes I push the envelope too far, and things break—I break. But that’s also how I learn. How I get stronger. A gust could have taken me, and I would have unhooked my rig before it dragged me across the deck, because I’ve been in situations where my chute’s been caught. I started at baby steps, Cruz. I didn’t just wake up one day and decide to run.”

“You did with me,” he said softly.

My cheeks warmed, and I ducked my head for a second. “Yeah, well, you seem to be the exception to every rule I’ve ever made for myself.”

“There’s a lot of that going around,” he answered, wrapping his arms around me. I leaned in, resting my head between my hands on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. I didn’t have to hold him, he held us tight enough for the both of us.

My chest filled with a sweet ache that was a step beyond infatuation and grew into a realm I wasn’t ready to discuss. It was a feeling that made me ask myself questions like what were we going to do when the boat docked in Miami? Would he still want me when we got back to L.A.? When he left for his new job on the East Coast? Would he decide to be with a woman who didn’t scare him? A woman who would let him protect her?

“IqueIque,” he said, the sound a rumble in his chest.

“What about it?”

He rested his head on top of mine. “It’s our next port.”

“Right.”

“We’re there overnight, and I’d like you to spend that night with me,” he said softly. “Off the ship, of course, but just the two of us. Like we’re normal.”

“Yes,” I said without hesitation.

“That doesn’t mean we have to have sex—”

“Yes,” I repeated, pulling back with a grin on my face that was so wide it nearly hurt.

“—or do anything. I just want to take you out on a date with no jumping off shit, or parachutes, or hands-off, eyes-off rules.”

“I already said yes!”

His dimples flashed before he kissed me, this kiss fast and hard.

The door to the suite closed. “Penna?”

I snapped back from Cruz, covering his mouth with my hand to keep him quiet. “I’m just getting in the shower. I’ll be out in a bit,” I called through the door.

Cruz sucked my ring finger between his lips, and then rolled his tongue around it. Holy shit, I felt that between my thighs.

He gave me a devilish grin, like he knew exactly what he was doing to me. Probably because he did.

“Sounds good,” Rachel called. “I have to work on my thesis proposal for Dr. Delicious.”

“Delicious?” he whispered.

I ran my hand down the length of his torso. “Delgado…delicious,” I responded quietly.

His dimples made an appearance, and I nearly groaned.

“I thought you had it done,” I called to Rachel.

“The asshole rejected my first one.”

“It sucked,” he whispered.

I put my hand back over his mouth and glared. This time he kissed my palm and then traced his tongue over my lifeline. The stroke sent little tendrils of electricity humming through my body, waking it with a need I knew only Cruz could sate.

Damn it, I wanted this man—everything he had to give.

“I’ll help you out after I shower, Rach. How does that sound?”

Cruz stuck his ridiculously full lower lip out, and I leaned up, sucking it into my mouth. He groaned, both of his hands moving to my ass as he lifted me.

“Sounds good,” Rachel answered, but the sound was muffled.

Cruz had carried me to the bathroom. He deposited me on the cold granite counter, spread my thighs with one hand, and stepped between them. Then he kissed me until I couldn’t remember my name.

My hands gripped his waist, then slid underneath his T-shirt to play with the rigid muscles beneath. Tension wound around me, through me, and there had never been anything—X Games medal or stunt—that I had ever wanted as much as I wanted this man, and not just for his body, or because he wanted me, but because he saw me. Me. Not just Rebel, or even Penna, but the me I was when no one was looking.

I slipped my fingers across his belt until I firmly grasped his hardness through his pants. “I want to touch.”

“Fuck me, Penelope,” he growled, his accent even more pronounced.

“Yes,” I said, lightly nipping at his neck.

His hips rocked into my grip, and I loosened my fingers just enough to let him slide through, my thumbnail scratching lightly over the ridge that marked the head of his erection.

This time his kiss was openly carnal, his tongue thrusting at the same rhythm of his hips, his breaths becoming uneven. Then he jumped away from me and put his hands behind his head.

“Nope. Not here. Not like this. I want better for you.”

“You do realize that you are way more concerned for my virginity than I am, right?” Damn it, my body was humming, electric, and he was still in complete control. How was that even fair?

He walked over to my shower and flipped the handle, turning on the water. “Shower. I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”

“Wait, how are you going to get down? The ship is moving.”

He grinned at me on his way out the door. “You think you’re the only one who can rappel in dangerous situations? Guarantee I can kick even your ass at that, baby.”

He winked, and my thighs clenched in reflex.

Then he shut the door and left me to shower away the day and imagine what our night together might be like. By the time I was clean, my Romeo had already climbed down the balcony.

Three days.

I could hardly freaking wait.