Blind Ambition

by Gwen Hernandez

  He had no way of knowing if the SIR fighters had passed them or not, but he was eager to get to one of their Jeeps before they all returned to camp. Civilization was too far for the two of them to walk barefoot, and they needed to move quickly.

  She hesitated as her breathing slowed, probably confused by his sudden change in attitude. But he didn’t have the time or desire to figure out what was going on in his head where she was concerned, let alone to explain it to her.

  “Okay,” she said.

  When he was satisfied that they were both as invisible as possible, he took her hand and led her toward the coast. The mud was more forgiving on their feet than the ground had been before the rain, but it was also noisier. They had to step carefully to prevent sucking sounds when they walked.

  Dan used the moon to guide him toward camp, skirting diagonally to the east so they wouldn’t re-enter too close to where they’d escaped. Not only that, Alexa had mentioned that the vehicles were parked on this side, close to the room where the orphans were locked up.

  After twenty interminable minutes, they reached the eastern edge of the resort with no sign of the rebels beyond a few faint shouts to the southwest. Moonlight reflected off the windshields of both Jeeps and illuminated the clearing where the cars were parked. The vehicles were older models—a cinch to hot-wire if he could get close enough without being spotted.

  A lone guard in the area stood at the edge of a building with his back to the sand, watchful, his rifle up and ready.

  Dan faced Alexa and put his fingers to his lips, then he pointed to her and then to the ground. Stay here. When she nodded her agreement, he slipped away, keeping to the brush, his eyes and ears alert for unseen sentries.

  He ran around the back of the building and snuck up behind the guard, ignoring the itch along his skin as the mud dried. The man hummed to himself as he watched the quiet courtyard, tapping the side of his rifle to some imagined beat.

  Dan put a chokehold on the guy, using one arm to cut off his air supply, the other to lock it down. His captive let his rifle dangle and pawed at Dan’s arms to no avail. The guard went limp within seconds. Dan quickly stripped the man, stuffing the guy’s shirt in his mouth and using his pants to tie his arms and legs behind his back.

  See how he enjoyed being trussed for a change. Killing the rebel would have been more expedient, but Dan had joined the PJs because he wanted to save lives, not take them. The man’s death—hell, he was more of a kid than a man—wasn’t necessary.

  Before heading to the Jeep, he slid the magazine from the rifle and tucked it into the waistband of his boxers. Even if he didn’t need it, no one else could pick it up and immediately use it against him. He searched the kid’s pants pockets.

  No car keys—that would have been too easy—but he did score a pocketknife.

  With a quick glance around to ensure the area was clear, he sprinted toward the vehicles. He picked the Jeep with its nose toward the road, ready to go. It was an open top, so he didn’t have to worry about an interior light, or making a sound opening and closing the doors.

  Staying low, he used the knife to cut the valve stem on each of the other Jeep’s four tires. That would slow them down.

  He waved toward the bushes where he’d left Alexa, beckoning her to the passenger side of the roadworthy Jeep—the left side of the vehicle, since cars in St. Isidore drove on the wrong side of the road, a remnant from the island’s brief time as a British colony.

  As soon as he saw her flicker of movement, he slid the rifle strap over his head and held the weapon with one hand as he jumped into the driver’s seat. Alexa sat down next to him as he located the ignition wires under the steering wheel.

  The ends of the insulated wires shone brightly in the moonlight, already stripped. How accommodating. Maybe SIR had stolen the Jeep in the first place. For all he knew, they always started it this way. Whatever the reason, he was grateful for the extra few seconds of time.

  He touched the two wires together several times before the engine turned over. Giving it gas before it could sputter out, he put the car in first gear and they surged forward onto the road.

  “Our element of surprise is shot now,” he said over the noisy engine. “Keep your head down.”

  “What about the kids?” she cried. “We can’t just leave them.”

  His gut churned. He didn’t like it any more than she did, but there was no way to get the children right now. No room, no time, not enough firepower. She knew all of this, so he didn’t argue.

  He just focused on keeping his hands on the wheel and the car on the rutted dirt track. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I have a plan.”

  Or at least he would. Soon.

  Alexa’s heart twisted as they sped away from the rebel compound. And the children.

  She knew they couldn’t take all of them in one—or even both—Jeeps. Many of the kids were too small and might fall or climb out. Plus, she had no idea how many people were guarding the orphans. She didn’t want any of the little ones to get hurt if the rebels fought back, which they surely would.

  Pushing aside her grief—after all, Dan had a plan of some kind, and she was working on her own—she held onto the seat, afraid she’d bounce out of the Jeep if she let go. He fought the steering wheel to keep the vehicle on the muddy, rutted road. The suspension was shot, and he was probably going too fast, but she understood his urgency.

  Something pinged off the back of the car, followed quickly by a loud report. She bit back the scream that had built in her throat. The rebels were shooting at them!

  “Stay down,” Dan urged.

  She bent at the waist and braced herself against the dashboard. “Should I shoot back?”

  “No. We’ll lose them.”

  He couldn’t possibly be as calm as he looked hunched over the wheel, focused on the moonlit road ahead.

  Several more shots rang out and Alexa ducked, but managed not to cry out. Then the tire blew, sending the Jeep into a swerve. Dan wrestled with the steering wheel, turning into the skid before yanking them back in line.

  She gripped the dashboard handle and pressed her feet against the floor to keep from sliding out the door. Her ass slipped right off the seat, but Dan’s recovery maneuver threw her back inside, the sudden jolt lighting her ribs on fire.

  “You okay?”

  “Fine,” she managed to get out between ragged breaths.

  The flat tire made a god-awful thumping sound, but he ignored it and kept going. The gunfire ceased.

  The Jeep bounced along for several hundred more yards, jarring Alexa’s bones before Dan stopped in the road and set the emergency brake.

  “I suppose it’s too much to hope for a spare,” he said.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, glancing behind her as he hopped down from the Jeep. No one rushed them with rifles.

  “Evaluating our options. We won’t get far on a flat.”

  Her skin prickled and she looked out into the dark jungle. They’d never get back to Flore and the others in time if they had to walk out of here.

  A quiet laugh drifted up from the other side of the car. What the hell could be funny about this?

  She scooted across to the driver’s side and leaned out of the doorway. Dan crouched in front of the wheel, sawing at something she couldn’t make out in the shadows.

  He glanced her way and set his blade on the ground as he stood. “It’s not a flat.” With a sharp tug, he dislodged what looked like a thick rope. “We ran over a dead vine and it got tangled up. It was probably slapping the wheel well with every rotation.”

  She wanted to sag into her seat with relief, but she couldn’t relax with the rebels so close. “What did you do to the other car?” she asked. “I thought they’d be right on our tail.”

  He glanced at her with a wicked grin that made her stomach flip, despite his mud-covered face. “I cut off the air valve stems.”

  Sliding into the driver’s seat, he released the brake and hit the gas. The engine
coughed and then held, its low rumble changing to a gravelly whine as they moved forward on the muddy, moonlit track.

  Somehow he always knew what to do next, always knew how to get them out of any situation. He never seemed to panic, never got rattled, never cried. Had it been up to her, she would have gone after the children, probably jeopardizing everyone’s chance of escape.

  But he shouldn’t have to do everything on his own. What if she came up with a plan this time? Dan might have more training in survival and combat, but he didn’t have a lock on the brains in this partnership. She needed to take a weapon from his arsenal and start acting out of intellect rather than emotion.

  Which didn’t mean leaving Flore and the others behind. It meant finding a way to go back that gave them a real chance of success, and procuring a vehicle big enough to hold eight kids safely. They either needed enough backup to fight their way in and out, if necessary, or they had to be able to sneak in and get the kids out before anyone realized it.

  Would Nillin expect her to return for the children? Possibly. But he might not expect her to do it tonight, within hours of escaping.

  Could she muster any reinforcements? Could Dan? She wasn’t sure who else to count on anymore.

  The road smoothed out and he turned on the headlights, creating an eerie tunnel through the dark canopy of foliage.

  “Where are we headed?” she asked.

  “Right now I’m putting as much distance as I can between us and them.”

  She started wiping dirt and debris from her abraded feet, wincing when she touched a deeper cut. “Where’s your yacht moored?”

  He swung his gaze toward her. “Why?”

  Her decision didn’t come easily after fighting it for so long, but her old reasons no longer applied. “I think we should go there. I’m guessing you have everything you need on the boat, plus it’s probably safer than staying on the island.”

  “And,” he said, making a “go on” gesture with his left hand.

  She took a deep breath. “And it’s big enough to carry us and all of the children. We just need some way to get them out to it once we’re anchored offshore.”

  He pondered that for an excruciatingly long minute. “It’s not a bad idea. The bitch of it will be ferrying the children without making them sitting ducks in the water.”

  That was her concern too. “We can probably find a tender in Sancoins that’s big enough.”

  “But not before daylight.”

  She kneaded her forehead, causing flakes of dried mud to fall to her lap. “Do you think they’ll move the children tonight?”

  Dan had an economy of motion that always calmed her. He didn’t drum his fingers on the steering wheel or tap his foot. He sat there with a stillness she could hardly comprehend. The tension had mostly melted from his shoulders and arms, and now he just drove, only moving his arms to shift gears—which he apparently had enough experience to do left-handed—and steer the vehicle.

  “It’s what I would do,” he said. “Especially now that they’ve lost us.”

  That was her biggest fear. If the orphans were moved before she got to them, how would she find them again? “Didn’t you say there was a runway nearby?”

  He slid his gaze her way. “Yeah. It’s just south of the resort.”

  “So they’re probably planning to fly the kids out from there. That’s why they brought them here.”

  “Maybe.”

  “What if we got a plane there first?”

  Dan slowed the Jeep and brought it to a stop in the middle of the deserted dirt track. “You realize you’d be kidnapping them, right?” He shifted to face her, the moonlight reflecting in his eyes. “Taking them on a boat ride to Sancoins is one thing, but flying them to another island…”

  He was right. Even if it was a temporary move, taking the kids off St. Isidore would be a criminal offense, and against everything she was fighting. “What if we just landed them somewhere else on St. Iz? There have to be airfields that aren’t under rebel control. Like the one in Terre Verte.” Though, granted, those guys hadn’t seemed very welcoming.

  Dan looked off into the dark, only his eyes moving as he contemplated the possibilities. “It might work.” His gaze met hers again. “We’ll need to do some research. If we land somewhere that Frederick’s men have a foothold, we’ll be screwed. But before I can consider any of this, we’d need a pilot and a plane.”

  Her dad’s charter service would never fly into a place like St. Iz. Too dangerous.

  Troy would know who ran the supplies through the airstrip near Terre Verte, but she couldn’t trust him anymore. And wasn’t that a bitch?

  Dan scratched at the dirt caked in the stubble on his chin. Sitting there mostly naked, covered in dirt, he looked like a chocolate-dipped sculpture, straight off a pedestal in Florence. Definitely good enough to eat. Except that she couldn’t have him, and she had other things to worry about right now.

  Despite that, she was grateful for his presence. Without him, she might still be in her original cell, beaten and broken in ways she didn’t even want to contemplate. “Thank you.”

  His gaze flicked to her. “For what?”

  “For saving me. At least twice. For sticking with me even after your original assignment was done. For helping me now.”

  “It’s my job,” he said without inflection.

  She swallowed her disappointment, even though she didn’t deserve more than he offered. “That’s all? You’re only here for the money?”

  He gripped the steering wheel with both hands and looked through the grimy windshield into the dark jungle that should be singing with the calls of frogs and bugs and other creatures, but was eerily quiet.

  “What else do you think would keep me here?” His hushed voice was laced with bitterness. “I’m not a glutton for punishment, Lys. You already made it clear that despite our obvious…chemistry, there’s no future for us. The only other thing I’m likely to get by staying on this island with you is a case of blue balls and a bullet in my back.”

  She winced at his bluntness and the sudden sound of the engine revving as he started driving again. “And the children have nothing to do with it?” she asked.

  He glanced at her before returning his attention to the road. “Of course they do. I wouldn’t even be willing to take your money if it weren’t for them.”

  Her eyes burned and she stared out at the moonlit trees. She didn’t want to believe him. Some selfish part of her hoped he had stayed for her, even if just a little bit. But given what he’d revealed about his finances, she couldn’t blame him for caring about the money.

  Still, the way he earned it was telling. He’d never stopped helping people. In her experience, money amplified your personality, for better or worse. In her family it hadn’t been for the better. Little wonder she’d run away.

  No. She hadn’t run away. She had run to a new life. A life of meaning. A life that mattered.

  And that was all she needed. All she would allow herself.

  But once again wealth had interfered. Without it, no one would want to take her hostage. No one would be keeping her from Flore. Money was the reason the rebels had rounded up innocent children, so they could sell them the way one sells a used car or an old prom dress.

  She had given away as much of her fortune as she could to support her favorite charities and make up for all of the work she couldn’t do on her own, but it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough to make up for her role in Despina’s suicide.

  All she could do now was hope that her resources would be sufficient to save Flore and the other children, and that Dan would put up with her long enough to make it happen.

  CHAPTER NINE

  DAN FOUGHT TO KEEP THE Jeep on course while he fumed over Alexa. No way in hell was he going to admit he’d stayed for her, no matter how much she fished. Was she trying to torture him? And then she went and made it all about the money. Which on some level for him it was. As much debt as he still had—despite how wel
l Claymore and Steele paid—he couldn’t forgo any chance to pay it down.

  But goddammit, he didn’t want Alexa’s money. He was such a frigging sucker for her that she was all he wanted. Not that he would ever tell her. She already held too many of the chips in this fucking arrangement.

  After bumping along on the muddy, rutted track for several long minutes of tense silence, they finally hit a real road. He was pretty sure it was the main loop that circled the island, but instead of turning right, which would take them toward Terre Verte, he went left.

  “Where are we going?” Alexa asked.

  “Sancoins. We need a plane, which means I need a phone. There’s a sat phone on the yacht, we just need a way to get to it.”

  She didn’t respond right away, and he glanced at her to find her covering her mouth. Was she crying? Then giggles tumbled from her lips and her shoulders shook. “I’m sorry,” she squeaked.

  “What’s so funny?” He scowled. Apparently he hadn’t upset her too much. Which was good, but still…

  “I just…” She erupted into laughter again, struggling for calm by forcing a few deep breaths. “Have you looked at us? We’re half naked, covered in mud, with no ID, no money, and no phone.”

  He scratched some of the dirt from his forearm and squelched a smile. She might be losing it a little, but she had a point. “We do look pretty ridiculous, don’t we?” They were more likely to get arrested in Sancoins than get the use of a phone or a boat.

  Dan forced his gaze back to the road. “I don’t think it’s safe to go back to the Hygiea clinic, but it might be our only option unless you have an idea for getting out to the yacht.”

  After a few more shaky breaths, she said, “Actually, I might. Would a kayak work?”

  “If we can get one close enough, yes. I’m moored about a mile south of Terre Verte.”

  “Perfect,” she said. “There’s a resort called Fair Winds just outside the village. It didn’t suffer too much damage in the storm, but it’s deserted since the tourists are all gone.” She picked at her arms, then used broad strokes to swipe at them, wiping her hands over the floor of the Jeep. “Last time I went down to the cove, the boathouse was intact and locked up tight.”