Fatal Flashback

by Kellie VanHorn

  Ashley pressed her lips together.

  José struck again. And again—until the horrible muffled thump of each strike etched itself permanently into her mind.

  That’s why they’d kept him alive. To torture the truth out of her.

  Her insides curdled with fear but she took a steadying breath. “Let him go. He doesn’t know anything.”

  “No, no.” The American contorted his mouth into a wicked grin. “You see, I don’t like to hit women, so it’s very convenient you brought him with you. Now, tell me where it is.”

  She couldn’t look at Logan, not when he was paying for her silence. She shook her head.

  The man didn’t take his dark eyes off her face. “Again.”

  The impact was different this time—harder—bone on bone. When she dared a glance out of the corner of her eye, she could see blood trickling down the side of Logan’s face. His eyes were steely, but how much could he take? Was the map worth Logan’s life?

  “I have been reasonable.” The man rose to his feet. “This is your last chance. Tell me what I want to know.” With a slow scraping sound, he drew a long knife from a sheath at his waist. He tapped it lazily against his outstretched palm.

  That knife was coming for both of them, unless she thought of something quick.

  Ashley ignored the shiver that crept up her spine. Time to take a gamble. “Why does Jimenez need it, anyway? We all know that mine is a legend.”

  Surprise flickered across Logan’s features. And an unmistakable warning lit his eyes. Tread carefully.

  The American laughed. “Because he likes to tie up loose ends. The last thing we need is the park service intruding into our business.”

  “How do you know they don’t already have it?”

  He didn’t appear concerned as he paced back and forth in front of Ashley. “We have our ways. And once we have your copy and you both are gone, there will be no one else to stop us. Now, where is it?”

  “Why should I tell you, if you’re going to kill us anyway?”

  Faster than she could blink, the man turned toward Logan and released the knife. Ashley’s heart lurched into her throat, stopping her breath, as the knife embedded itself into the adobe wall six inches from Logan’s ear.

  Slowly, carefully, the man walked over and pulled the knife out of the wall, tracing the blade along Logan’s cheek. “Unless you want to watch me cut him apart, piece by piece, you will tell me what I want to know.”

  “Ashley,” Logan growled, “don’t listen to him. Don’t worry about me.”

  The man laughed, kneeling in front of Ashley again, but safely beyond the reach of her teeth. He dropped his voice low, smirking. “He’s brave, isn’t he? But you know better. You know I will do it. And you are a woman—too weak to watch me carve him apart.”

  Oh, he would pay one day—when she brought down Jimenez and his men. But the red-hot anger flaring in her gut wasn’t going to help now.

  So instead she sighed deeply, hanging her head. “I’m sorry, Logan. I have to tell him. I couldn’t bear...” She sniffled for effect.

  The man stared at her, waiting expectantly.

  What would he believe? A lie mixed with truth would be easiest to swallow. And whatever she said, she needed to get both men out of the room. “A man threatened me in the marketplace today. After that, I was scared, so I hid the map. You chased us before I could go back for it.”

  “Where? Here, in San Vicente?”

  “The side street to the right of the chapel, off the plaza,” Ashley said, infusing her voice with the weakness he expected to hear. “There was a crack in the adobe wall of the house across the street from the chapel’s side entrance. I stuffed it in there, as high up as I could reach.”

  The man’s eyes narrowed as he searched her face. He turned to his companion. “José, go get it.”

  José mumbled something in Spanish that Ashley didn’t understand.

  The other man frowned impatiently. “Fine. Wait outside. I don’t want you killing them before I find the map.”

  He grabbed a fistful of Ashley’s hair to expose her neck. With a sudden flick of his wrist, the long knife was at her throat. “If I find you’ve lied to me, you’ll regret it.”

  She didn’t dare breathe. The cold steel pricked unforgivingly at her skin. For a split second she thought he might kill her, but he pulled the knife away, releasing her hair. She slumped, tension ebbing out of her shoulders as the men stalked out of the room.

  There was nothing to do but watch as the heavy oak door slammed shut and was bolted on the far side.

  * * *

  Logan let out a long breath, staring across the room at Ashley. She was absolutely composed—the only hint of fear had been in the slight strain of her voice, as if it was a battle to keep it steady. That, and the flash of panic in her eyes when the man had thrown a knife at his head. The rest of it—the simpering female—had been an obvious act.

  She held his gaze for a moment and then nodded. “Okay. Let’s get out of here.”

  “How are we going to do that, exactly?” He looked up at the rope knotted around his hands, looped over the hook. Too high for him to stretch and pull himself free. The tied ankles didn’t help, either. And Ashley...well, she wasn’t getting out of that chair anytime soon.

  A small scraping noise pulled his attention back to her. Using her feet, she was part jumping, part sliding the chair toward him.

  “If I can get close enough, maybe you can use the chair to unhook your hands.”

  “And,” he recollected, “I’ve got a knife in my shirt pocket.”

  She slid the chair another foot closer, so painfully slowly. “I thought we weren’t allowed to bring weapons across the border.”

  “It’s got a two-inch blade.” He rolled his eyes. “It hardly counts as a weapon. Besides, you never know when a Swiss army knife will come in handy.”

  Finally, Ashley managed to slide the chair right up to his knees. Using his aching abdominal muscles, he hoisted his tied feet up onto the edge of the chair and pushed off, simultaneously lifting the rope around his wrists off the hook. His sudden weight on the chair sent both it and Ashley rocking precariously, but she didn’t tip.

  “That feels so much better.” He rotated his shoulders to get the blood circulating again and gingerly touched his side. A couple of bruised ribs, but nothing felt broken.

  “Good. Then get me out of this chair.” Her dark eyes sparked. She had more guts than half the park rangers he’d worked with, and this was her first job in the field. Something inside his chest swelled.

  “You’re a real magnet for trouble, you know that?” He fished the knife out of his pocket and worked the blade open. “And the worst part is, you seem to like it.”

  “Like it?” she scoffed. “I won’t like it if they come back here while you’re dawdling around with that knife.”

  “Maybe I should leave you tied up, if you’re going to complain.”

  She gave him a crooked smile, watching as Logan carefully maneuvered the sharp blade against the ropes binding his wrists. In a matter of minutes he had sawed through the coil and unraveled the bonds. After freeing his ankles, he worked on the ropes securing Ashley’s feet and upper body to the chair.

  She stood, holding out her hands so he could free her wrists. “You’re pretty proficient at this. Do you get captured often?”

  “No, never done it before.” He gave her a wry grin. “I have you to thank for this pleasure.”

  He took both her hands—so soft and warm—in one of his, holding as he sawed at the rope with the knife. As the last of the binding came loose, Logan pulled it from her wrists to reveal bright red chafing marks on her skin. Anger surged in his gut and he looked up at her, searching her face.

  “They didn’t touch you, did they?” He’d been pretty delirious after that knock to the head
. No telling what might’ve happened while he was out.

  “No.” Her cheeks flushed. “But what about you? How’s your head?”

  He shrugged. “It hurts.”

  His heart skipped as she brushed her fingertips lightly against the back of his head, gently moving his hair. Something shifted in her brown eyes, her brows raising in the center.

  “You’ve got a big knot.” Her throat bobbed. “We’d better watch for signs of concussion.” She smiled wryly. “I know all about them.”

  “Yes, you do.” Logan cleared his throat, torn between the need to comfort her and to punch the men who had hurt her. But neither would help at the moment—they still needed to escape. “First, let’s get out of here.”

  “I noticed the roof looked pretty dilapidated from the outside—do you think we could find a place to climb out?”

  “Maybe.” He paced the room, assessing the ceiling. “The adobe is probably at least a foot thick. It would take a long time to carve our way out unless we find a weak spot.”

  She pointed to a section along the back wall where bits of adobe had broken loose. “What about there? Along the beam?”

  Logan grabbed the chair and walked over to the spot. Climbing up, he scraped along the crevice with his knife. “The beam is called a viga, incidentally, and these—” he pointed to smaller crossbeams “—are called latillas.”

  Ashley tapped her foot impatiently. “I guess I know who to ask the next time I want a lesson on adobe construction. Now, can we get out through there or not?”

  Logan shot her a quick scowl as he dug his knife into the adobe above his head. “This might work. If you can muster a little more patience, I’ll try to cut us a hole. Keep an eye on that door.”

  Digging through the hardened mud was slow work, but a steady trickle of dust and small pieces kept falling to the floor. A large chunk of mud and straw broke free, crashing to the ground near the base of the chair.

  “I think I’m through.” He wiped dust away from his face using his forearm. A patch of blue sky peeked through the newly opened hole.

  “What’s going on in there?” Someone drew back the door latch with a heavy thud.

  “Ashley,” Logan whispered, “over here. I can get you out.”

  “Too late.” She shook her head, pressing herself against the wall beside the door.

  The door that was opening as José walked in, holding a gun.

  TWELVE

  Ashley knew she’d have a split-second advantage as José’s eyes adjusted to the dark room. She waited, holding her breath, as he stepped inside, his gun arm outstretched.

  She made her move as soon as he had taken a full step inside the doorway, seizing his arm and rotating the weapon backward and out of his hand. Before he could cry out, she jerked his arm around behind his back and dropped him to the floor. Pressing her knee into his back, she trained the gun on his head. “Don’t move. And don’t make a sound. Logan, bring me a rope.”

  Logan, who was staring at her openmouthed, jumped down off the chair and brought the rope, helping her to tie José’s hands behind his back. “You didn’t learn that in NPS training.”

  A statement, not a question. So much for working undercover. But now wasn’t the time to talk about her real identity.

  He cut off a strip of cloth from the hem of his shirt and wrapped it around José’s mouth. “Better gag him, too, just to be safe.”

  “Your boss isn’t going to be too happy,” Ashley said to the bound man, cinching another rope around his ankles. She glanced up at Logan, nodding at the door. “Is it clear?”

  He looked out but then slid the door shut. “Guards pacing the perimeter. And the American will be back any minute. We’ve got a better chance on the roof.”

  “All right.” Ashley stood, tucking José’s gun into her waistband. Forget the Mexican laws. Their lives were on the line.

  She followed Logan over to the chair underneath the hole he had carved into the ceiling. He jumped up onto it and a minute later expanded the hole wide enough to allow her shoulders through.

  “Ladies first.” His expression allowed no room for argument. “You can help me from up there. Stay low to the roof and close to the back wall so they don’t see you from below.”

  Ashley nodded.

  “When he comes back empty-handed,” Logan continued, “he’s going to be after blood. I don’t want you anywhere near here. If you see anyone coming, get yourself as far away from here as you can.”

  “I’m not leaving you behind, so stop talking and help me up. I’ll wait for you on the roof.”

  “No, you’ll run if I tell you to.” Logan’s gaze was unyielding. “I’m training you, remember? That makes me in charge.” He reached down to help her onto the chair.

  Ashley took his hand and climbed up, finding herself suddenly only inches away from him. Her knees buckled a bit and she reached out a quick hand for the back of the chair. In response, Logan wrapped a steadying arm around her waist.

  Avoiding eye contact and doing her best to keep her heart rate from skyrocketing, she said a bit breathlessly, “Okay, I’m ready. Lift me up.”

  “Try to keep your weight on the beams. Who knows how weak the rest of the adobe is.”

  Placing both hands on her waist, Logan lifted until she could squeeze her arms and shoulders out through the hole. Using the viga to support her weight, she carefully maneuvered the rest of her body until she was fully out in the bright, hot, sunshine.

  Crouching low to the roof, Ashley glanced over the presidio. She let out a quick breath. No movement. She peeked back into the hole. “The coast looks clear so far. Let’s get you out.”

  They both started digging through the adobe, Logan with his knife, Ashley scratching with her nails until her fingertips were raw. Finally the hole looked big enough to squeeze his broad shoulders through.

  “Now what?” she asked. “How do we get you out?”

  “Lie down and give me your hands. I can pull myself up, but you’ve got to hold on tight until I reach the exposed wood.”

  She did as he instructed, already feeling the sweat building on her palms. No pressure. She could do this... How much did he weigh, anyway?

  Logan squeezed her hands, looking up at her in his steadfast way. “You can do this. Ready?”

  Fortifying herself with a deep breath, Ashley tightened her grip on his hands. “Ready.”

  With a sudden strain on her arms, Logan heaved himself upward, using the back of the chair as extra leverage to help him gain enough height to reach the exposed log. The force of his weight on the chair back caused it to tip, until his feet were dangling in the air. He released one of her hands to find a handhold on the beam. For a split second, she thought he might fall, but at the last moment he dug his fingers into the wood.

  She helped direct his other hand to the wood and waited as he pulled his head out through the hole, a crooked grin on his dusty face.

  “Thanks,” he said, puffing with exertion. The tendons and muscles in his lower arms could have been carved out of rock.

  “Anytime.” She dipped her chin in a quick nod.

  Soon his upper body was through the hole. He was swinging up his other leg when voices below made them freeze. Ashley tensed, casting him an anxious glance.

  Logan held a finger to his lips and motioned to the upper wall of the presidio running parallel to the roof. She followed him over to the wall and they ran along it toward the west end of the complex.

  They had only gone a short distance when they heard the oak door open below. Almost immediately, shouting broke out, followed by random gunshots into the adobe roof.

  Throwing caution to the wind, they stumbled ahead as fast as they could for the far wall of the complex. A voice called out from the courtyard below. Ashley ducked lower as bullets whizzed past her head.

  A second later
the shooting stopped. Two men climbed up onto the roof in pursuit. She didn’t recognize one of them, but the other was the American she’d sent on the fool’s errand to find the map. She could see the rage etched on his face from all the way across the roof.

  She and Logan reached the far wall as the pursuing men opened fire. Logan cupped his hands for her to step up and she pulled herself onto the wall. Large chunks of adobe broke loose and fell on the far side as she scrambled to maintain her balance.

  Logan hoisted himself up next to her, narrowly avoiding a gunshot to the leg, and grabbed her hand. “We have to jump.”

  A wave of horror crashed through her insides as she surveyed the huge drop on the far side. Fifteen, twenty feet? Enough to make her head swim.

  But Logan yanked on her arm, shouting, “Now!”

  In an instant she catapulted into the air, her stomach finding its way up into her throat, her legs scrambling to brace for impact.

  A second later they hit the sand. Ashley’s legs absorbed the brunt of the blow, but momentum carried her forward until she fell facedown into the scorching sand.

  Logan was already pulling on her again, urging her to run.

  The men hadn’t jumped, but bullets bit into the sand at her feet. Pulling José’s gun from her waistband, she fired a couple of shots in their direction before sprinting toward the river and the hope of safety.

  * * *

  Logan raced for the river, still in a partial state of shock at the way Ashley had taken down José like it was a training exercise. Even now, as they tore across the rough terrain, her face was a mask of concentration.

  He zigzagged around the scrubby desert brush, his feet sinking deep into the sand with each step. Exertion stole the oxygen from his lungs, making his legs burn. And it was even harder for Ashley, who wasn’t used to the heat or the landscape.

  Yet there she was, barely lagging, in better physical condition than most park rangers.

  Something about her wasn’t adding up.

  Gunfire sounded behind them again, another reminder now was not the time to ask.