“McQueen, I repeat. Is. It. Her?” Trevor asked impatiently.
Hesitant to say the words out loud, Jake said, “Can’t confirm, yet.”
He continued moving west, praying he’d make it to the woman before Cetro’s men realized she was gone. No, not ‘the woman’...Olivia.
Jake shuddered to think what would have happened had his team not shown up with they did. The very idea that she’d been here this entire time, enduring only God knows what...I’m sorry, Liv. So fucking sorry.
Jake shut that train of thought down fast. He couldn’t go there now. His hunt for revenge had just turned into a rescue offensive, and his entire focus had to remain on the most important mission he’d ever faced—saving Olivia and bringing her home.
****
Olivia’s heart raced as she pushed herself to keep running. She’d looked over her shoulder and, to her profound relief, she hadn’t seen Scarface or anyone else following her. Yet.
She still couldn’t believe she’d gotten away. The jerk had punched her, hard, and she definitely had some bruised ribs from that kick, but her pure determination and will to live had apparently been enough to fight him off. That, and a whole lot of luck.
Olivia had been coughing and writhing in pain when Scarface had forced himself on her. He was much stronger than her, but in his attempt to control her flailing arms, he’d taken his hand off of his weapon. A mistake that saved her life.
The temptation to shoot the bastard had nearly overpowered her. Pulling that trigger would have felt damn good, but it also would have brought every man there to her tent.
So, instead of shooting him, Olivia used one of the skills her brother and Jake had taught her. Much to her surprise, it worked like a charm.
She’d head-butted Scarface. The ominous cracking of bone when her forehead slammed into his nose was more satisfying than she could’ve ever imagined. It also hurt like a bitch.
Ignoring the bruising pain, she'd then rammed her knee up into his crotch. The move effectively took his breath away, making it impossible for him to yell for help.
Pushing him off, she’d rolled away quickly and grabbed his gun. Then, just as he’d done to her the day the she’d been taken, Olivia slammed the rifle’s butt against the back of his head, rendering him unconscious.
It all happened so fast, and had gone even better than she’d originally planned. With the exception of forgetting to bring the gun with her.
Olivia had been so stunned that she’d actually overpowered the asshole that—like an idiot—she’d dropped the gun and ran. She didn’t even stop to grab her boots.
So, here she was...running through the jungle with no weapon, no shoes, and no underwear. But hey...it could be worse, right?
A hysterical giggle tried to bubble its way to the surface. Focus, Bradshaw!
Olivia shook her head against it and kept running, her face and limbs smacking into the large leaves surrounding her. She had no idea where she was going, but knew she needed to put as much distance between herself and the camp as she could before the others discovered she was gone.
She tripped and fell. Ignoring the pain, Olivia got right back up and kept moving. Pushing past the ache in her ribs and the pounding in her head, she paid no attention to the stinging in her bare feet. The only thing on her mind was escaping.
Running as if her life depended on it—which it did—Olivia’s burning, malnourished muscles kept on. She moved straight and fast, refusing to stop. Until she was grabbed from behind.
A strong, masculine arm hooked around her midsection. Olivia grunted loudly as her body flew forward and then bounced back. Her shoulder blades smacked against the man’s chest. She opened her mouth to scream, but a gloved hand pressed against her lips, muffling the sound.
Scarface hadn’t been wearing gloves, which meant this most likely wasn’t him. This guy must have seen her running away and had come to take her back.
I’d rather die.
With her adrenaline pumping at full-force, Olivia did the only thing she could think of. She turned her head back and forth, wiggling her mouth until she was able to open it slightly. Then, she bit down as hard as she could.
Her attacker growled. Loosening his hold, she was able to ram her elbow backward into his solar plexus. The man grunted and took a step back just as she turned around and jammed the palm of her hand up toward his mask-covered nose.
He raised his arm to protect his face, but at the same time, Olivia swung her foot up between his legs. Taking him by surprise, she hit her goal with perfection. He went down to one knee, letting out a string of curses as she turned and began running again.
Olivia almost smiled. Take that, asshole. From what she could make out, the guy’s English was perfect with not even a hint of an accent like the others. He was also dressed differently.
There was a mask over his face, and his shirt and combat pants were black, not camo. He was also wearing some sort of protective vest over his shirt.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, Olivia wondered why he hadn’t fought back, but none of that mattered now. She continued on, nearly tripping again when she heard her attacker’s voice.
“Liv, wait!”
The man’s voice sounded familiar, but she wasn't stupid enough to think that automatically made him a good guy. Still running, Olivia heard the man swearing again. This time she did smile.
He’d probably catch up to her eventually, but she couldn’t help but enjoy the fact that she wasn’t making this easy for him. Olivia was still grinning when a wall of muscle slammed into her from behind.
They both fell onto the ground, her chest and face smacking against damp leaves and dirt. The fall—not to mention
