himself permission to consider staying alive. Once he’d made that leap, the rest of it had been easy. He’d figured out immediately that the best way to honor the memories of his fallen comrades was to stay alive and keep their memories alive in his heart. She’d seen the whole argument play out in his wonderfully expressive eyes. She hadn’t done half-bad for only having one rotation in medical school in psychiatric counseling. But she still wanted him to talk to a pro when they got home.
She occupied herself for a while imagining moving to Timbalo, the island where Pirate Pete’s delivery service was based. It was a sleepy little place, sunny and golden and sexy…with John around, she could definitely see herself living there.
That was, assuming Huayar and company could be persuaded to leave her the heck alone, and she didn’t have to go into hiding or take even more drastic measures. She’d hate to undergo plastic surgery or give up all contact with her family after fighting so hard to get them back. But if she’d learned nothing else from John, it was that sometimes extreme measures were necessary to stay alive. After finding him, she’d do whatever it would take to have a future with him.
The sun slid below the mountains, unseen, and the light began to fade around her. The vivid greenery faded to olive, and then to gray. Night creatures began their chorus, and she shrugged into the sweatshirt John had thoughtfully left for her. A macaw screeched nearby and she about had heart failure before she recognized the distinctive caw. But then she settled down once more and began to wait in earnest. John was actually moving into the camp now.
And then she began to worry.
How long she sat there, feeling useless and exposed by turns, she didn’t know. Impatience built in her, a restless need to move. To know what was going on. But John had been adamant. She was supposed to stay right here. At all costs. An hour passed. Two. And the tension of waiting became nearly unbearable.
Then the screams began.
They started as a series of indistinct sounds coming from the direction of Huayar’s camp, and grew into a horrible sound of fear and pain. Oh, God. Had they discovered John? Her palms broke out in a cold sweat. She prayed fervently that he was safe and still hidden.
But then the screams morphed into something sharper. More urgent. It was definitely the sound of someone in terrible trouble. Her entire body broke out in a cold sweat. Panic made her shaky, and a need to
The thick vegetation distorted the noise, making it bounce crazily around her until she could hardly tell where it came from. But it was definitely the sound of torture. Was that John? Should she do something? He’d said to stay here. But, if he was in trouble, she couldn’t do
He would tell her there wasn’t anything she could do. He’d tell her to leave. To save herself. Except everyone she loved was down there in that camp. What did saving herself matter if her parents and her brother and her lover all died?
Another scream split the night. She about leaped out of her skin at the piercing sound of human agony. Ohgodohgodohgod…
Was that her mother or father? Mike? Now what was she supposed to do? She had to take action. It would kill her not to.
A new scream erupted, louder and even more agonized than the last one. She stood up. Took a step forward, then crouched back into place. Should she…John had said to stay…but someone was in trouble…what could she do…she wouldn’t know if she could help until she saw what was going on…
She inched forward, relieved beyond all reason to be moving, to be acting upon the adrenaline pounding frantically through her. She’d just creep a little closer. She’d go slow like John talked about. She’d stick to the shadows, and only go close enough to catch a glimpse of what was going on. She’d be careful.
Thankfully, because of the maps he’d made her study all afternoon, she had little trouble staying oriented as she moved toward Huayar’s camp. If she slid to the left a bit, the map showed a high outcropping that overlooked the camp nicely. She should be able to crawl out on it and get a decent view of what was happening below without ever coming much closer to the camp than she was now.
In theory it was an easy task. Except she failed to take into account the paralyzingly thick vegetation, the even more paralyzing open patches of ground, and the sick nausea of fear rumbling in her gut. Every time another scream pierced the night, she lurched, pushing herself to keep moving forward, to set aside her own safety and keep pressing closer to the danger.
How on God’s green earth did John do this so casually? It was a no-brainer to guess that he’d been a soldier of some kind before he got shot. He’d referred to his Special Forces skills just before he left, in fact. Her heart was about to pound right out of her chest, and she was alone and safe in the shadows. What must he be experiencing, down among Huayar’s men in the open, without cover to speak of? Please, God, let that not be John down there, his voice growing hoarse from his screams…
Finally, she crouched behind the drooping branches of a tree fern and peered out at the rocky outcropping she’d sought. Yikes. It was really open out there. Only rocks and moss for cover. She shed her backpack and lay down on her belly. She commenced edging forward, and rapidly gained new respect for snails. The further out the ledge she went, the dumber an idea it seemed. She was way exposed out here. But John would’ve taken a risk like this for her-heck, was taking a greater risk for her at this very minute.
Just a little bit further, and then she’d be able to see down into Huayar’s camp. She dragged herself forward a few more inches on her elbows, and then froze, staring down in horror.
A tiny red dot illuminated the top of her right hand. It slid up her arm, across her shirt pocket and disappeared, presumably centering itself somewhere in the middle of her forehead. She dropped flat, breathing hard. Crap. She’d watched enough television shows to know that was a laser sight from a rifle. She waited for the bullet to slam into her entirely vulnerable flesh. But nothing happened.
Her body went hot, then cold. And belatedly, her brain kicked back into gear. That had to be one of Huayar’s men. Of course they wouldn’t shoot her-Huayar wanted to take her alive! The sniper had probably radioed down to the camp that he’d spotted her. Heck, there was probably a welcoming party of armed men heading for her position right now.
She jumped up and took off running, heedless of the sniper tracking her movements. She had to get back into the trees. Out of sight. She crashed past the tree fern, not bothering to scoop up her backpack. Bug spray and spare bottles of water were meaningless to her if Huayar’s men caught her.
Faint crashing sounds came from behind her.
She put on a new burst of speed. She tried to traverse the steep mountainside on the assumption that Huayar’s men would expect her to run downhill. Oh, how tempted she was to barrel down the slope. But she was pretty sure that path spelled disaster.
She slowed down, both from complete lack of oxygen, and because her gut told her silence was more important than speed, now. Her pursuers knew she was out here. They’d comb these woods all night if they had to. This was no longer a chase. It was now a life-or-death game of hide-and-seek.
John crouched in the shadows of one of the sleeping huts, a ramshackle affair of corrugated tin and scrap wood. It would keep rain off the hammocks within, but that was about all that could be said for it.
He clenched his jaw as Huayar continued wielding his knife. The prisoner screamed again, pleading for mercy, and swearing upon a variety of saints that he had not stolen drugs from the latest shipment he’d delivered.
John subsided in the shadows, thinking hard. The drug lord’s ploy was transparent. Huayar figured Melina was nearby, hesitating to walk into the camp, and the bastard was giving her something to think about.
John hoped fiercely that Melina was heeding his instructions to sit tight and do nothing. But he had a sinking feeling in his gut that she wasn’t. The tortured man’s screams were wrenching, and she had to be completely flipped out. She had no way of knowing whether or not that was him or one of her loved ones screaming their head off. He had to get her family out of here, and fast, before she went and did something stupid.
He looked all around. The good news was that the sentries were looking avidly over their shoulders at Huayar’s bloody spectacle. John eased forward, gliding silently across an open area and sinking slowly into the shadows of another sleeping hut. The building beyond this one was where Melina’s family was being held. He rolled slowly under the nearest hammock and inched his way along the interior wall toward his goal.
