Before they could even exit the truck, the guards surged forward and surrounded them. “Out!”
“Slide across the seat and come out behind me,” Dan said. He wanted her close to him as long as possible.
They exited the truck slowly, hands up. Sudden movements were inadvisable, and he also wanted to give Scott and Jason more time. There wasn’t much high ground around the airfield, and the Marine needed to get into position without alerting Frederick’s goons.
“Give up your weapons,” the blond directly in front of Dan said. He looked suspiciously like the guard they’d seen several days ago while skirting this very runway.
Dan had brought a couple “throwaway” guns for just this purpose. They’d never believe he came unarmed. “So you work for Jeannot, huh?” he asked, removing the nine-mil from his thigh holster and a small Sig from his back. This country was a fucking mess. Was anyone honest?
The man just glared. Most likely he worked for whoever was paying him at that moment. Or paying him the most. Dan had been a mercenary, but not like this. He had believed he was on the right side of things. Then again, his teammates had died because Dan and Mick didn’t have a clue.
He shook off those unproductive thoughts and kept his eyes on the armed men in front of him, keeping himself between them and Alexa.
“I’m unarmed,” she said.
Two of the guards moved in and patted them both down, and Dan used every ounce of will he had to refrain from attacking the man who was running his hands over her body with a gleam in his eye. Despite her humiliation, she wouldn’t want him to jeopardize the exchange.
Apparently satisfied, the lead gunman—the blond—waved them through the ten-foot-wide gate in the fence and along the grass toward a rundown shack that had once been white, but was now a sad gray.
The faint buzz of a plane engine grew louder until a small prop job passed overhead, looped around, and landed with a slight bounce before rolling to a stop near the dilapidated wooden building.
Blondie halted the group and motioned them to face the four-seater. Flore was visible through the back window, her eyes wide as she stared out at them. He could practically feel Alexa’s desire to run to the girl.
Nillin Petitt stepped down from the front passenger side of the aircraft, rounded the slowing propellers, and stopped to face them. He was spiffed up in a collared shirt and chinos, embellished with a shoulder holster stocked with two handguns.
“Help her down.” Petitt signaled to the pilot. Then he waved Alexa forward and held out an iPad.
Two million dollars in small bills like twenties would weigh over two hundred pounds. It was also hard to count quickly, and was easily lost or stolen. Smart man that he was, Frederick had requested a wire transfer instead. That Alexa had access to that much money still boggled Dan’s mind.
She stepped forward and Dan made to follow, but Blondie blocked him. “Just her.”
He could only hope that Scott and Jason were in place and watching the scene unfold.
“Send the money now,” Petitt said, giving her the device.
She took it. “Let Flore go to Dan first.”
Dan silently applauded.
Petitt hesitated but then nodded to Flore. “Go.” He must have decided Dan wouldn’t endanger Flore or Alexa with heroics.
The little girl ran to him and flung her arms around his waist so tightly he almost couldn’t breathe. He returned her embrace. “It’s okay, sweetie. I’ve got you.”
Seeing that Flore was in his arms, Alexa began pressing the iPad screen under Petitt’s intense scrutiny.
Bang! A bullet slammed into the plane’s fuselage.
She screamed and dropped the tablet, crouching down with her hands over her head. The guards went to their knees, scanning for the threat. Petitt took off running toward the shack.
Another bullet shattered the side window and blood sprayed the cockpit.
“Take cover!” Dan yelled at Alexa. He yanked Flore to the tarmac and dropped on top of her. “Stay put.”
Twenty yards from the small building, Petitt’s shirt bloomed red and he fell face down as the sound waves from the rifle fire finally caught up, thundering in the air around them.
Dan’s pulse spiked as he scanned the area. Who the fuck was shooting?
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
ALEXA CRAWLED TOWARD DAN AND Flore. Scott shouldn’t be shooting. He was only supposed to fire under imminent threat.
The lead guard—the blond one wearing hunting-style camouflage complete with leaves and pine needles—pointed his gun at her. “Don’t move.”
She froze. “It’s not us.” She was pretty sure. But then who was it?
“I know,” Camo Man said.
Dread pooled in her belly. She tried to catch Dan’s gaze, but he was scanning the area, his eyes narrowed.
A large, black SUV shot through the opening in the fence and drove onto the tarmac. It stopped a few yards from the plane and three more men dressed in tactical gear and carrying rifles jumped out to surround the vehicle.
When the additional security was in place, the back door opened and a tall, black man in a tan linen suit and mirrored glasses emerged.
Frederick Jeannot. Had she really tended his wound only four days ago? A lifetime had passed since then.
“At ease,” he said to the men.
The guards lowered their weapons, but kept them at the ready.
He took a few steps toward Alexa and gestured to her and Dan. “You may stand.”
They complied.
“Bring me the girl.”
“No,” Dan said.
Alexa’s heart pounded against her ribs. Would this nightmare never end? “I was about to transfer the money.” She reached for the iPad that lay near her feet. The heavy-duty case had protected it from the fall and its screen still glowed.
“No.” Frederick motioned a guard to retrieve it from her. “That was Nillin’s account.” He spat. “Foolish boy.”
She blinked. “He took Flore from you?”
“He thought if he came early, the deal would be done and he would be on his way out of the country before I arrived.” He took the tablet from his goon and tapped on the screen, then handed it back to her. “Send your money to me.”
She stared at the screen. If she gave him the money, she was supporting everything she detested. Her foundation could take the financial hit, and Flore was worth any expense. But now that she was faced with the man again, she couldn’t bring herself to enter her credentials on the wire transfer.
“What are you waiting for? Do it.”
She glanced at Dan. She could offer herself, but that would start this whole nightmare all over again. She didn’t want to give this man a dime, but Flore’s safety was paramount, and the odds were not in their favor.
Reluctantly, she typed in the numbers and approved the transaction. “It’s done.” She handed him the iPad.
He nodded and gestured to his personal security team. “Finish this.”
His men turned in unison and shot the mercenaries in the head. Flore screamed. Alexa gasped.
Frederick’s closest guard hooked an arm around Alexa’s neck and pulled her close, holding a gun to her head. “Don’t try anything,” he said.
The other two men grabbed Dan’s elbows and pushed him to the ground. He held Alexa’s gaze and went down without a fight.
Frederick snagged Flore.
“No!” Alexa cried out.
“Thank you for your donation to the cause, but she’s not leaving this island. She belongs to St. Isidore.”
“But all those other children…”
He gripped Flore’s arm and stopped. “That was Nillin. He was willing to sacrifice them for his own gain.” His voice rose, hard and angry like a nest of bees. “He set up something on the side and raided the orphanages that I funded.” Frederick hit his chest with an open palm. “I want better for my people.”
Alexa inhaled sharply and looked at Dan. Her mind whirled. Freder
ick might not have been behind the black market adoptions, but that didn’t make him a good man.
She struggled against her captor. “But you agreed.” She had been such a fool. “No one will ever pay you a ransom if they know you go back on your word.” She had to be desperate to try reasoning with a terrorist, but what options did she have?
“They always pay.” Frederick dragged a wriggling, wailing Flore toward the truck.
Alexa couldn’t ignore the gun pressed to her temple, but she had to get to Flore. Think. They’d covered this in her self-defense class. Arm up, twist. Simple if she didn’t screw it up and get herself killed.
Deep breath. She exploded into action. Her right hand shot up to shove the gun back. She gripped the barrel and twisted under the man’s arm to face him.
He looked at her in shock, the gun pointing at his chest. Holy crap, it worked! She shoved the gun down and it clattered to the tarmac. He reached for his rifle, raising it toward her chest.
The world came to a standstill. Everyone around her moved in slow motion as if under water. Dan fighting against his guards, screaming at her would-be executioner. Flore calling her name. Oblivious birds flying overhead.
She didn’t want to die. She wanted to live. She wanted to live with Dan. She wanted to have babies and raise Flore with him. She wanted to go to bed with him at night, and wake up with him every morning, and tell him every day how much she loved him. She wanted to grow old with him by her side.
She’d never get over her role in Despina’s rape and suicide, but she knew down to her toes that her sister would want her to do more than live. She’d want her to thrive.
Alexa had no doubts now.
She dropped to the ground. The bullet passed overhead and shattered the airplane’s windshield. The guard swore and tracked her with the rifle as she lurched sideways toward the plane.
His head dissolved into a cloud of pink mist. The rifle clattered to the ground. His body followed with a quiet thunk.
Scott. Thank God.
She gagged and turned away.
The remaining two guards froze, their faces carved in shock. Dan took advantage of the beat of confusion, fighting free of their hold. The trio became a chaotic thrashing of fists. Too risky for a sniper to take a shot.
She launched to her feet and ran after Frederick, who was attempting to wrangle Flore into the SUV. Alexa kicked the back of his leg and punched him on the upper left arm, right where she’d stitched him up days before. “Let her go!”
He swung around and hit her in the stomach. She gasped for air and fell to her knees.
The SIR leader swiveled back to Flore, but she shut the door and locked it.
Good girl. Alexa put her palm on the tarmac and commanded her lungs to fill with air.
Frederick slammed his hand against the glass and swore. Then he raised his gun to the window.
She tackled his leg and he stumbled. Her breath came rushing back and she gulped air as she clung to the aging rebel.
He righted himself and lunged toward her, pointing the small handgun at her head. “Get off me, bouzin.”
She released him and sat back on her heels, her eyes never leaving the weapon. Somehow she had to get him into Scott’s line of fire.
The SUV’s door flew open, slamming into his side and knocking him off balance. The gun fell to the ground and slid beyond the front wheels. Frederick roared and grabbed for the door, but Flore had already pulled it shut and locked it again.
Alexa scrambled for the gun, but he got his footing first and beat her to it. He scooped it up and struck her across the face with the hard hunk of metal. Following her as she crawled away from the SUV, he raised the gun again. His body jerked once, twice. Frederick staggered and collapsed face down. Rifle reports echoed through the plantation and over the flight line as blood saturated the back of his jacket.
Alexa’s stomach and face throbbed, but she pushed to her feet, racing toward Flore. The girl emerged from the SUV and ran to her. “M’lyssa!” Then she burst into tears.
Holding her close, Alexa shuffled to the front of the car. Ten yards away, Dan lay on his back, his face and hands bloodied.
Was he breathing? Oh, God, she couldn’t tell. One of the men he’d been fighting was running toward the gate that led to the road. The other lay face up on the ground with a knife in his chest.
“Dan?” Her voice came out as barely a whisper.
No answer.
“Come on.” She took Flore’s hand and ran to him.
A truck careened through the gate and screeched to a halt next to the SUV. Flore screamed.
Jason and Scott jumped out and raced toward them.
“It’s okay, sweetie. Those are friends.”
“Is he…?” Jason asked, glancing at Dan.
“Flore, you remember Mr. Jason, right?” Alexa dropped to her knees at Dan’s side, checking his wrist for a pulse. He was breathing, at least. And—thank you, Jesus—he had a regular heartbeat. Lord knew her own was far from steady.
The girl nodded.
“Can you go with him to the truck to get a first aid kit and a blanket?” Alexa didn’t want to let her go, but Flore had already seen too much blood.
Jason held out his hand and Flore took it.
Confident the girl was safe, Alexa ran her hands over Dan’s body, performing a blood check.
“What can I do?” Scott asked. He was calm, but his face showed concern.
“Can you get him on his side for me?” she asked.
Without a word, Scott rolled Dan toward him, straining against the heavier man’s weight. She probably should have asked Jason to help her, but Flore hadn’t met Scott, wouldn’t feel as comfortable with him.
Alexa swiped her hands down Dan’s back and sides. Something warm and sticky stopped her cold. Her heart pounded as she peeled up his black shirt to reveal a three-inch gash across his lower back. She couldn’t tell how deep it was, but it wasn’t bleeding anymore so she didn’t want to probe it.
She worked her way down his legs but found nothing.
“Don’t stop now,” Dan said, his voice rough as if he’d swallowed sand.
“Oh, thank God,” Alexa said. “Don’t move.”
He waved Scott away and pushed to his hands and knees. “Thanks, man. I can take it from here.”
“What are you doing? You have a knife wound.” Dan reached for the spot on his lower left side, but she slapped his hand away. “You’re a paramedic. Act like one.”
“I’d rather let you play nurse.” He gave her a suggestive look.
“Stop,” she said, but her heart wasn’t in it.
Scott rose. “I’m going to guard the gate.” Without waiting for her response, he strode away.
“Now look what you’ve done,” she told Dan.
He gave her a weak smile. “All part of my plan to get you alone.”
She huffed out a laugh and shook her head as Jason and Flore returned. Jason handed her the first aid kit.
“Thanks. Flore, honey, can you fold that blanket and put it down for Mr. Dan’s head?”
The girl nodded and set up the makeshift pillow while Alexa found what she needed in the first aid kit.
“Does he need immediate emergency care?” Jason asked.
“I’ll know in a minute.”
“I’m fine,” Dan snapped.
“We need to do this on the road,” Jason said.
“Give me three minutes,” Alexa said.
Dan shook his head. “We don’t have three minutes. You can look at this”—he waved to his back—“in the truck.”
Alexa gave in. He was right. Maybe it was better not to be here when the police—or more rebels—arrived.
While Jason helped Dan walk to the truck, she and Flore ran ahead and put down blankets in the back. Then she got Flore buckled into the passenger seat of the truck and hugged her tight. “You were so brave today, sweetheart. I’m sorry you had to go through that, but I’m proud of you. You handled it like a champ
.”
The girl clamped down on Alexa’s shoulders, her little body trembling. “Please don’t leave me again.”
Alexa’s heart cracked. “No, honey. Never.”
Dan made it to the truck, leaning heavily on Jason’s arm, a scowl on his handsome face.
Alexa pulled away from Flore, but gripped her tiny hand. Gesturing to the truck bed, she told Dan, “Lie down in back.”
He grumbled something unintelligible, but crawled onto the blankets and collapsed face down.
“Sweetie,” she said to Flore. “There’s no room for me up front, but I’ll be in the back with Dan, okay? He’s hurt and I need to fix him up.”
Flore’s hold tightened, but she nodded and then released Alexa’s hand.
Jason slid behind the wheel, while Scott took over driving duties on the other truck. Alexa shut Flore’s door and climbed into the bed with Dan. The minute she had the tailgate latched, the truck lurched forward and made a wide turn toward the gate.
Alexa hunkered down against the wind and moved to Dan’s left side. He turned his head to face her.
“Let me look,” she said.
He spread his arms out to the side and lay still while she gently raised his shirt. The truck bounced and jostled her, but she cleaned and bandaged the cut as best she could. He needed a thorough examination, wound irrigation, maybe a tetanus shot, and most certainly stitches.
“You should go to the ER.”
He rolled onto his right side and took her hand, tugging her down until she lay alongside him. “It can wait.” His hazel eyes turned hard and he skimmed his fingertips across her cheekbone, not really touching. “That bastard hurt you.” He held her gaze until her heart flipped over in her chest.
“It’s just a bruise. You’re the one who’s really hurt.” Tears filled her eyes and her throat started to close. “I was so afraid…”
He pulled her into a fierce hug. “I nearly died watching you face down a gun. Twice.” He cradled her head in his big, warm palms and kissed her hard. “I’ve never felt more fucking helpless in my life.” His voice was rough and shaky as he tangled his hands in her hair and looked her in the eyes. “Jesus, Lys.”
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