He shifted to his bottom and unfolded his legs in front of him. “I’m fine. I got the rope off my ankles, but I didn’t want the guard to notice when you came in.”
Alexa gasped. His left leg had long, bloody scratches running from his heel to halfway up his outer calf. Her fingers itched with the need to tend his wounds. “How?”
He jerked his head toward the metal plate on the wall. “With a little help from the earthquake and a sharp corner. It might not do us any good, but I needed something to do. And it feels better. Now if I could just get my hands free…”
She wiggled her wrists to test the handcuffs, but her captor had locked them down tight. Her arms and shoulders were already protesting their return to the awkward, painful position.
“Tell me where you went,” he said, eyeing her new shirt, his look making it clear that he feared the worst.
“Nillin took me to see the children.” Her breath shuddered out of her lungs. “Flore was struggling, but he let me treat her. All of them were dehydrated. I’ve never seen the bunch so listless. At first I thought maybe he’d given them Benadryl or something to keep them quiet.”
She’d mostly managed to keep it together while she was with the children, but now she had to fight back tears. The kids were so scared and confused. And vulnerable. The earthquakes hadn’t helped. Most of them were too young to remember the devastating tremor from three years before, but that didn’t make this one any less frightening.
She had practically begged Nillin to let her stay, but he’d refused. He had, however, promised to ensure they had food and water. Not good enough, but it would have to do.
Dan frowned. “Were you able to get them some fluids?”
She nodded. “He sent one of his men for sports drinks after I reminded him that dead children weren’t worth any money.” A wave of nausea rolled through her, but she breathed past it.
“What did you see out there?” he asked. “Can you tell where we are?”
“We’re north of Terre Verte, like you thought. I can see Montagne de St. Pierre from here.” She described the resort and their proximity to the water.
“What about men? Vehicles? Weapons?”
She thought back. “Nillin had four men with him to escort me. I saw maybe ten others milling around, all armed with rifles. It’s hard to say how many are inside the buildings, though. And we didn’t cover the entire resort.
“There are two Jeeps near the beach,” she continued. What else could she tell him? “Three guards are outside this building right now. I have no idea about perimeter security. I’m sorry I don’t know more.”
“No, that’s good info.” Dan rested his head against the wall. “But if we can find a way out of here, we need to wait until the majority of the men are asleep. I can probably handle three, but not ten or more. Not without weapons of my own.”
He could probably handle three? She wasn’t sure she even wanted to think about the type of experience it would take to know that.
“Even if we escape somehow, what about the children?” she asked. “According to Flore, they’re supposed to be flown out tomorrow morning.”
“How many kids are there?”
“Eight. Other than Flore, they range from four months to three years old.”
He looked grim. “It’s safer to leave them here until we can get the reinforcements we need to rescue them.”
Her jaw dropped. “No.” She glanced toward the door and lowered her voice. “I can’t abandon them to these men. The rebels are barely providing the basic necessities.” An even worse thought occurred to her. “And what if we do escape and then Nillin moves the kids? We might not find them before they’re taken off the island. We might never find them again.”
A deep sigh escaped his lips. “I understand, I really do, but we’re more likely to get caught if we try to take the children with us. If that happens, we’ll all be worse off, with no chance to get help.”
Her heart twisted. She wanted her freedom desperately, but she couldn’t go without Flore and the others. She’d never forgive herself if she did and they were sold before she could save them. No matter what she’d told Flore, she didn’t believe they’d be better off in their new homes. Especially the children who had local families just waiting for their finances to improve before bringing them home.
“Look,” Dan said. “This is all irrelevant unless we actually get out of here, so why don’t we focus our efforts there? We can work out the rest when we need to.”
“Fine.” There wasn’t much chance of it happening anyway, which if she thought about it only made her want to crawl up into a ball and sleep. Or cry.
Instead, she turned her attention to her shackles. The guard hadn’t bound her feet, but her handcuffs were solid, as was the chain. She inspected each link that she could see, but found no gaps or thin spots.
“How secure is the bolt in the wall on your side?” Dan asked.
She glanced back as she tugged, but it didn’t budge. “It looks pretty well stuck.” Yanking it with her fingertips didn’t produce any promising results either.
“Mine moved some during the earthquake when I pulled. I’m going to see if I can use the plate as leverage.” He got to his feet and squatted with his back to the fastener, going up on his toes to brace his heels against the wall.
Reaching behind him, he gripped the square piece of metal and yanked it toward his back. It hit the bolt with a dull clank.
“That’s too loud,” she said. “They might come investigate.”
“Yeah. Shit.” He dropped to his knees and relaxed for a few seconds. “Maybe if I work it side to side.” His gaze dropped to the floor in concentration as he shimmied left and right.
Unable to do anything useful, Alexa watched his magnificent body work. He strained and flexed, the deep shadows emphasizing the cut of his muscles. He was like a work of human art, and though his body wasn’t the main reason she found him so appealing, it was a fabulous icing on the whole Dan Molina cake.
He stopped and raised his head. “I think I’m getting somewhere.”
She felt a blush rise up her cheeks, but hopefully he couldn’t tell in the faint light. As the twilight dimmed, dull, yellowish light from the camp seeped into the cell through the gap along the upper walls.
“There’s brick dust on the floor,” he said, his voice rich with excitement. “Maybe if I work the bolt with my fingers…” His eyes squeezed shut and his arms tensed. “Got it!” He stood and swiveled to show her the chain in his hands, a huge grin on his face. “Time to work on you.”
Her stupid heart swooned. She knew what he meant, but that smile, that body, that intense look…
The sound of a key sliding into the lock on the door disrupted her wayward thoughts.
Dan jumped between her and the entrance and flattened himself against the wall. “Whatever happens, stay down.”
She was still processing his command when the door swung open. He kicked the side of the guard’s leg and sent the unsuspecting man to the ground with a howl. Dropping to his knees, Dan snatched the man’s rifle, holding it awkwardly behind his back but aimed at the now writhing, keening rebel.
Agitated voices rose up outside, speaking in a heavy kweyol accent she struggled to decipher.
Dan sidled up to the edge of the doorway, taking cover behind the thick wall while aiming the weapon outside. “Drop your weapons or I’ll shoot,” he said.
She heard swearing and the clatter of rifles against the ground.
“Get in here.”
A few seconds later, two of the men who’d accompanied her and Nillin to the children’s room entered the cell. Anger blazed in their eyes and held their mouths rigid. Dan motioned them to drag their friend to the wall and sit, and they complied with murder in their expressions.
“Who has the key to the handcuffs?”
The man wearing a white polo shirt ground his jaw, but finally dug a ring of keys from his pocket and held it out.
“Unlock her. And
if you try anything, I’ll blow your fucking head off.” His face was ruthless and hard. Menacing.
Alexa shuddered as she scooted away from the wall to give Polo Man room to remove her bindings. The guard smelled of sweat and fear as he crouched next to her.
She steeled herself for him to grab her for use as leverage or a human shield, but he didn’t. He just undid the cuffs and backed away without meeting her eyes. It was easy to forget how young some of these guys really were. Late teens or early twenties, and many had been forced into the rebel army at a young age. Which earned them her pity, but not her trust.
Pins and needles burned her shoulders and arms, but she let out a huge sigh of relief as she moved her hands in front of her and rubbed her wrists.
“Give her the key,” Dan said.
The man tossed a key ring toward her so that it landed at her knees with a loud ching. She picked it up and scurried behind Dan to unlock him. “Now what?” she asked as she removed the cuffs from his red, swollen wrists.
She frowned at the sight. If only she had her first aid kit.
“We’re going to lock up these two.” Now that his arms were free, Dan shifted the rifle to one hand and twisted his body to face the men so he could hold the weapon on them with both hands.
He motioned the men toward her abandoned shackles and told them to lock up so they were facing opposite directions. When they were done, he checked to ensure they were secure and waved to Alexa. “Let’s go.” He released the rifle’s clip, checked it and shoved it back in again.
She glanced at the three guards. “What if they make noise and draw the others?”
Dan looked her in the eye. “I didn’t think you’d want me to knock them out. I’d have to hit them pretty hard to do it.”
“They changed the rules when they killed Garfield.” And took her hostage, and stole the children. “Do whatever you think is best.”
He removed the guards’ socks and hastily stuffed them into their mouths. She wasn’t surprised. Despite his earlier words about taking them all out—which he might have done if his hand was forced—Dan had always been about helping people, not hurting them.
She moved onto the steps and he swung the door shut behind him, locking it with one of the keys from the ring Polo Man had given her. At the bottom of the stairs, Dan scooped up two rifles from the ground where the now-captive guards had left them, and handed one to her. “Do you know how to use this?”
“No.”
“Damn,” he muttered under his breath. Then he grabbed the rifle, flicked a switch on the side and gave it back. “I put the safety on so you won’t kill one of us with it. Just strap it over your shoulder so it won’t get in your way.”
She did as he asked, despite the ickiness that stole over her at the feel of the heavy weapon against her back. She wanted nothing to do with it.
“Hey!” The voice echoed across the small courtyard. “Stop!”
Dan grabbed her hand and dragged her in front of him before giving her a small push toward the forest. “Run.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
DAN COVERED ALEXA’S RETREAT, BUT no one shot at them. Apparently they still wanted her alive.
He dropped one of the rifles—the two of them banging together as he ran made too much noise—then swore under his breath as he reached the trees. Alexa was like a walking lighthouse in that white T-shirt. He probably wasn’t much better, mostly naked as he was.
Sticks and rocks ravaged his bare feet, but he kept running. Both of them were going to suffer for this, but it beat being tied up waiting for God knew what to happen.
Catching up with Alexa, he urged her to arc to the left, parallel to the camp. The soldiers would be up and looking for them now, but hopefully they wouldn’t expect their escapees to circle back. All Dan and Alexa needed was some camouflage so they could wait it out. He might have training and experience in escape and evasion, but these men had the home field advantage. They’d been hiding out in this jungle for years.
He herded her into a thick clump of ferns and banana palms, using the broad leaves as concealment, but he was still afraid they stood out too much. Even if he had her take off the shirt, her pale skin wouldn’t be much better.
And her being covered was better for both of them right now.
The weather decided to cooperate at that moment, providing them with one of St. Isidore’s frequent, random rain showers. The rain would slow down the guards and make it harder for them to see or hear.
Dan and Alexa huddled beneath the cover of the plants, largely protected from the deluge, curled tightly around their knees, aiming for minimum visibility.
“Are you okay?” he whispered, barely able to see her in the dark space, but acutely aware of her—the warmth of her body along his left side, her harsh breaths as she recovered from their flight.
“Fine.” She sounded pissed. Was she mad they’d left the kids behind?
The rain drummed the forest around them, blocking out all noise but that within their cocoon. Water streamed through the leaves, running along Dan’s scalp and down his back, a cold tickling on his spine.
“What now?” Alexa’s breath on his ear sparked something inside him, sending heat curling through his body like smoke.
He mentally shook it off before replying. “We stay here until the rain stops. Then we’ll see.”
Rain in St. Isidore didn’t usually last long, though it could be a good twenty minutes. He was accustomed to waiting. Had spent hours, hell, days even, waiting and watching and calculating his next move.
But never with Alexa by his side, short-circuiting his concentration.
He focused on the world outside their hide, simultaneously running scenarios in his head. She was right about the children. If the two of them left now, there was a definite chance that Petitt would move the kids before Dan could return for them. And this time, he might not be able to find them before it was too late.
But how the hell was he going to exfiltrate eight kids—many of them babies or toddlers—under the noses of the rebels? Unless he could incapacitate the whole contingent of soldiers at once, he’d be putting Alexa, himself, and the children at risk.
He spent ten minutes going in mental circles before the rain stopped as abruptly as it had started. He held still for several moments, listening for their hunters.
The only things making sounds were frogs and bugs. “We need to mud up,” he said. “You’re bright as a flare in the dark, and I’m probably not much better.”
He reached down into the muck and began smearing it on his face, neck, and torso. The wet, cold earth smelled faintly of decayed leaves and the rich, black potting soil his grandmother used for her container garden. Alexa followed his lead, slathering mud on her face and arms.
Turning toward her, he asked, “Did I miss anything?”
“Yes.” Before he could react, she reached out and curled her muddy fingers around his ears and ran her palms down the sides of his neck.
He stifled a groan as a jolt of desire went straight to his groin.
“And here.” Her thumb stroked across his collarbone.
A shudder ran through him, and he caught her hand. “Okay,” he bit out. “Thanks.” He let her go and she dropped her arm.
“What about me?”
What about her? He wanted to lay her down on the wet ground and use his hands to cover her from head to toe. He wanted to be as thorough as possible.
Instead, he scooped up some mud in his palms. “Your hair is too shiny.” He dropped the slop on her head and used his fingers to smooth it down the length of her red-gold strands.
She inhaled sharply. From his touch, or the shock of cold?
“You did a good job on your skin”—her luscious, smooth skin—“but your shirt is still too white. Take it off.” He gripped the hem and tugged, far too eager to catch the glow of her stomach and shoulders in the pale moonlight that seeped between the leaves.
Taking control, she slipped the shirt over her head and pr
essed it into the mud, turning it silently several times before covering herself again. “Better?”
“Yeah.” Except that he was quickly losing his ability to focus on anything but her dark shape. “Just…” Before he could think it through he gripped her head and pulled her into a kiss.
Her mouth met his, equally hot and hungry as their bodies melted together. She stroked the back of his neck with one hand, the other pressing him between the shoulder blades as if to bring him closer. Not that they could get any closer. They were plastered together from head to knees, his erection hard as blue steel and pressing eagerly against her. As eagerly as she crushed her breasts to his chest.
It had always been like this with them. Nonstop desire, instant heat. Zero to sixty in two seconds flat.
Which was why he’d been so dumbstruck when she said she didn’t want to see him again. Of course, now he understood her reasons. Apparently, the attraction between them wasn’t enough to overcome whatever guilt she harbored over her sister.
He finally understood why—with the exception of that morning’s kiss in the surf, and this heated tangle of tongues and lips that he never wanted to end—she had been keeping him at arm’s length.
And nothing had changed. Which meant he had to stop what he was doing before they got carried away. Not to mention before they were found by the rebels out hunting them with rifles.
Jesus, what was he doing?
He ripped his mouth free and gently pushed her away, his heart pounding as he struggled for breath. “I…” What could he say? He wasn’t sorry. He’d been wanting to do that since he first saw her. His only regret was that it wouldn’t lead anywhere.
Well, that, and the fact that he’d completely lost his head when he should have been focused on the threat. Holy hell, if Kurt could see him now, he’d laugh his fucking head off. And then he’d tear Dan a new asshole for succumbing to the distraction.
Dan reached down to smear more mud on his body where it had rubbed off. Maybe the sludge would help him cool down too. Fat chance. “Fix your arms,” he whispered to Alexa. She just stared at him. “We need to get going.”
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