Bodyguard Rescue

by Donna Young

  Ready to defend her position, she glanced up to find Roman surveying the area, knee-deep in the swirling water. There had to be another way to lose their scent.

  “Come on, Doc.”

  It was an order. One she wasn’t sure she could obey. Not this time. Maybe not anytime. She would beg him if she had to. Then Roman looked back at her, his stare urging her to hurry, his hand raised to help her.

  It was the hand that did it. The words of refusal died in her mouth. He hadn’t asked for this, hadn’t wanted anything to do with her, she was sure. Still, he was risking his life to save hers and didn’t deserve to deal with a coward.

  “You can do it, babe.” Softening perceptively, Roman’s gaze remained on hers. “I’m not going to lie. This brute is as dangerous as it looks. The water is shallow enough but unbelievably swift if we get too far from the bank.” It was almost as if he’d read her thoughts. “I promise to pick the safest route. You’ll be fine. Keep your footing solid and hang on to the waist strap of the backpack.”

  Kate flexed her fingers. They were still stiff and sore and lacking their earlier strength, but wrapping them around the strap would give her extra stability.

  Come hell or high water. The absurd saying crossed her mind as she wiped her damp palms on her shirt and picked her way through the scrub of bushes toward Roman. Who knew it would be both?

  Kate stepped into the river and immediately felt the slap of cold against her heated body. The shock caused her to gasp in surprise, the sound drowning in the thunder of the rapids. Before she could recover, however, the current pushed against her knees, and drove her backward as if it was testing her resolve. Its heaviness caused her to stagger and she grabbed for Roman just as he caught her.

  “Careful.” The command was sharp. “I don’t care how good a swimmer you are. Nothing is going to save us if we’re swept downstream.”

  Kate believed him. The iciness actually felt good against her feet now, replacing the burning pain with numb relief. Still, the hesitation was there when she stepped. The rocks, worn smooth by years of gushing water, made the footing treacherous. Even more dangerous, she realized, was the waist-deep water. The depth and violent push of the river made their progress difficult, almost as if they were wading through three feet of sludge. She grasped the backpack strap, clutching it tight.

  Instinctively she didn’t speak, but kept her eyes peeled for Threader’s men. She couldn’t hear the dogs’ barking over the din, but she strained her hearing nonetheless. They were out there.

  Roman took his time, giving instructions, pointing out places to step, and soon confidence replaced the tightness in her chest. He held his gun in one hand, its movement constant and alert while the other lagged in the water for balance.

  Kate was in awe as she followed in his path. Even as he struggled upstream, there were no jerky movements, no motions wasted. An aura surrounded him. One of power and predatory instinct. Her protector was on the prowl, and for now she was secure.

  It wasn’t until they rounded the curve and Roman pointed up the river toward the opposite bank, that the terror crept back.

  Broken trees, upended by their roots, lay snagged amongst a group of huge, serrated rocks. The water pooled around the debris, deceptively calm with only a hint of the turmoil underneath. What frightened Kate was the rapids that stood between them.

  “We’ll wade past the rapids on this side a few hundred yards, cross over, then work our way back to the pool.” Roman used the back of his gun hand to wipe the moisture from his forehead. “They won’t expect us to backtrack. I’m hoping they’ll ignore the eddy knowing the rapids are impossible to traverse.”

  She squinted against the glare of the sun, her gaze traveling up the river. The distance seemed almost insurmountable to Kate, but she also knew there was little choice. “If you’re sure—”

  The rest of the statement turned into a cry of alarm when a lancing heat hit her left calf and the tendons behind her knee. With one hand, she automatically grabbed at the pain, attempting in vain to stop it. Her leg collapsed underneath her, unable to support her weight against the cramp that now seized her entire limb. Frantically, Kate tried to hang on to Roman. Her anchored hand, already weakened from hours of straining, clawed uselessly at the belt, trying to maintain a grip.

  The hard yank nearly toppled Roman. He scrambled to recover by leaning into the current, realizing at the same time his actions jerked him away from Kate who was down and struggling to keep her hold on the pack. Turning, he dropped the gun and made a desperate grab for her wrist, catching her fingertips. But his hold couldn’t stop her slick skin from sliding through his palm and out of his grasp.

  She catapulted down the river, her body bobbing up and down, her head coming perilously close to the rocks that swarmed in front of her.

  Roman threw off the backpack and plunged after her.

  Water clogged his throat while he struggled against the river’s punishing weight. It forced him down toward the buried rocks only to shoot him into the air, slamming him against the boulders above. Recognizing the fact that he faced a deadly enemy, Roman fought with all his will, his mind’s eye hearing Kate’s screams of terror.

  Lighter than him, she would move more swiftly in the turbulence, far out of his grasp. Fire burned in his lungs and Roman used his arms to shoot upward. He bobbed, attempting to swim, needing the extra momentum to reach her. The rapids showed no remorse, allowing him only precious seconds to suck air before pounding him back into the river bed.

  Terror seized his body. He knew this river, its beauty and its treachery. Bear Falls lay a mile downstream, a waterfall that poured out fifty feet to a rocky patch beneath. Even if he could reach Kate, the chances of them both having enough strength to fight the current and reach safety would be slim.

  Then he spotted her and assessed the situation in the flash of a second. She lay in the rapids, no more than fifteen feet from the bank. Wedged between the rocks, the rifle held Kate with its strap, one of her arms tangled inside. As he drew closer, he caught a glimpse of hundreds of pounds of water hitting her face and pushing her under the surface. Soon the deluge would break the strap or pound her into unconsciousness, leaving her hanging there to drown.

  Just then her head broke the surface, her mouth gulping in air before the water pressed her back down. Her strength wouldn’t last much longer.

  His muscles burned while he fought the undertow, spinning with the current and adjusting his body, legs first. The only way to reach her would be to smash into the rocks, cushioning the blow with his feet and praying he wouldn’t break any bones in the process. A gush of white foam hit, rolling him over a rock bed of shale, their edges catching him in the ribs. Scorching heat shot down his side, causing him to clench his jaw to keep from swallowing more river water.

  He struggled to regain his position, barely managing before he slammed into the boulders that held Kate. A jarring pain reverberated through his body. Blindly he grappled for a dead tree limb. His head banged a rock. Sharp, painful stars exploded in his skull, but he didn’t dare loosen his hold on the branch. Even this close to the bank, the water was too deep for him to touch bottom. Swinging around the roots, he grabbed for the rocks and using his upper body strength maneuvered toward Kate.

  Water spewed around him making it hard for him to see, difficult to keep his grip. When he reached her, his heart skipped a beat. Her arm, twisted in the strap, was the only part of her not submerged in the water. For how long, Roman wasn’t sure.

  “No!” He heaved her up by the waist of her pants, dragging her limp body across his chest. The rifle, coming unjammed in the process, dangled from her arm only a moment before slipping into the stream.

  Adrenaline surged through him, setting his blood pumping wildly. “Wake up, MacAlister!” He shouted the words into her face but she didn’t respond, her skin deathly pale. Realizing he was wasting precious time, he hauled her over his shoulder and worked his way to the bank, his actions like that of a
madman. Fire seared the places where the debris ripped at his skin but he ignored it, half walking and half crawling to the embankment with Kate across his shoulder.

  Once they reached the ground, he rolled her onto the dirt and dropped down beside her. He smoothed away the wet, matted hair from her face, her lips and skin now tinged a faint gray.

  “Damn you, Kate. Breathe.” Clasping his mouth over hers, he blew air into her lungs, trying to force life into her limp body. He pulled back repeatedly, desperate to see a rise in her chest. Costly seconds flew by and he got no response.

  “Please, baby.” Using the heels of his hands, he pushed against her diaphragm, his spirit willing hers to purge the water. “Don’t do this. Don’t give up.” He whispered the words, ignoring the rivulets of water that stung his eyes. “Please.” Roman had never begged in his life, but he was begging now. Begging her, begging God.

  But neither worked. She lay on the ground, a rag doll. Her once-translucent skin bluing. Rage like he’d never known overwhelmed him. There wasn’t justice in the world. No justice for Kate, for Amanda, none for his parents.

  “Damn it, Kate! Wake up!” He clutched her shoulders, shaking her. “You aren’t going to haunt me, too. Understand?”

  A sudden gush of liquid spurted from Kate’s mouth, causing her to choke. He bent her over, slapping her back as she expelled river water. The choking soon turned to coughing and Roman grabbed her to his chest, rocking her against him until finally she took a heavy breath.

  “You’re okay, babe.” Her eyes fluttered in response. “You’re okay.” He murmured against her temple, holding her as the color returned to her face. Closing his eyes briefly, he swallowed hard against the knot of fear that refused to dislodge itself from his throat.

  “Cerberus.” Her voice was hoarse, and shivers racked her body, but her heart beat steadily against him. He shuddered in relief. “You called me Kate.” Then she smiled weakly. “It’s about time.”

  His laugh grated the air like a rusty file. “Yeah, it’s about time.” He rubbed his chin across the top of her head, taking comfort in its silken texture. “It’s about damn time.”

  Chapter Ten

  “I’m so cold.”

  Kate’s head lolled against his shoulder, muffling the words against his neck. He felt her teeth chattering before she spoke again. “I can’t seem to stop shaking.”

  In one deft movement Roman removed both the hunting shirt and her T-shirt before tugging off his own. The temperature was in the nineties, but her skin pressed to his with an icy clamminess.

  The sharing of their body warmth wouldn’t help much, but the knowledge didn’t stop him from cradling her on his lap. It was obvious Kate was suffering from shock over the near drowning. What she needed was warm clothes and some time to rest. Hell, he needed time to rest. But with Threader’s men breathing down their necks, time wasn’t available.

  She tilted her head against his shoulder, passing out from sheer exhaustion. Her hair, having come undone during their trip down the river, lay loose around her face. Gently he brushed the tangled tendrils off her flushed skin. His gaze lingered, his body still feeling the echoes of fear from minutes before. She’d been as good as dead, and he’d been helpless.

  God, he’d been so helpless.

  The agony he’d suffered following her down the river compounded with the fear when she’d stopped breathing had taken him beyond his sanity. Yet neither compared to the anguish he felt now, holding her close to his heart, knowing no matter how much he loved her, he could never keep her. If the past half hour did nothing else, it cemented his resolve to get Kate home safe to her family.

  A twig snapped in the distance somewhere behind them, breaking into Roman’s thoughts. His tired muscles tightened with alertness. Slowly he slid Kate onto the damp clothes beside him and at the same time ran his hand over his boot. His fingertips touched the cool ivory of his knife handle.

  “Manos arriba!” Hands up!

  He saw Kate’s eyes fly open in fright. Her body tensed against his. Pretending to consider the guttural order, Roman sent her a sharp look and shook his head slightly. He didn’t expect her to understand his silent message. But within a space of a breath, she went still, her eyes shutting once again.

  His gut told him there was only one man. He hoped fervently his instincts were right. A brief thought about the rifle and pistol lying at the bottom of the river flickered through his mind before he palmed the blade.

  “Hands up! Now!” The soldier, switching to English, emphasized the order with the clicking mechanism of his assault rifle.

  Knowing the man would punctuate his third warning with a spray of bullets, Roman whirled around, maintaining his crouched position. It only took a fraction of a second. A fraction in which he let the knife fly.

  Roman heard the static of the radio, saw the man press the transmitter button. “I’ve got them…”

  The soldier’s words faded as his eyes fell to the knife handle protruding from his chest. A deep, crimson spot began to spread across his shirt. He dropped both the machine gun and radio to grasp the handle of the knife. With one tug, he pulled the weapon free even as he slumped to his knees.

  When the soldier fell forward, Roman heard rather than saw. Still in the attack position, his eyes were searching the brush, for signs of the man’s compadres.

  Satisfied they were alone, Roman stepped toward the dead man.

  “¿Juan, los encontro?” Did you find them?

  The words crackled over the discarded walkie-talkie. Roman didn’t hesitate. He grabbed it and punched the button with his thumb.

  “Yes,” he said, deliberately sounding out of breath as he responded in Spanish. “I’m just above the falls. They’re across the river, on the east side. Too far to reach from my position. They’re heading southeast into the mountains. Out.”

  “Copy that, amigo. Good work. I’ll notify the others. After we capture them, we’ll rendezvous on the ridge for a victory tequila, no?”

  “I’m buying.” Roman laughed thickly and then signed off. In hell maybe. With that thought, he chucked the radio into the river. No sense taking a chance that it contained a homing device. Giving the man false directions just bought him and Doc some time. They could stay on this side of the river and head north, missing most of Threader’s men.

  He leaned over the dead man. “Muchas gracias, amigo,” he whispered.

  As soon as the words left his mouth, he felt Kate’s presence behind him.

  “Do you need help?”

  Roman glanced up at the quietly spoken question. Kate stood there, her pale body shuddering in the light breeze. So frail, Roman knew that if the wind picked up any, it would bowl her over. Stunned disbelief etched her face, her skin once again a sickly gray as she stared at the corpse on the ground. The fact she stood in the open, dressed in nothing more than a bra and shorts, told Roman her state of mind.

  “Go sit down, Kate, before you fall down.”

  When she started to argue, he cut her off.

  “You need to conserve what little strength you have. If you can’t walk, I’ll be forced to carry you, and I would rather have my hands free in case some of this guy’s friends are around.”

  He expected an argument in answer to his terse words—or at the very least a hurt expression. What he didn’t expect was the soundless compliance as she walked, almost trancelike, to the clothes on the bank and sat down. Her demeanor almost did him in, but the stakes were too high for him to back down. He returned to the job, knowing if he didn’t, she’d be in his arms in a heartbeat and to hell with the risks.

  Threader’s man was small in stature, dressed in camouflage pants and shirt. Roman flipped him over, retrieved his knife and wiped it on the blood-soaked shirt before returning it to his boot. Quickly, he liberated the man of his daypack, canteen and guns before searching the bag. There he found a day’s supply of food—mainly canned meat and crackers—a couple of cigars, some water tablets and much-needed ammo to match
the Uzi and pistol.

  After placing the pistol, a 9 mm SIG-Saur, in the back of his waistband, he stripped the body of its boots, socks and pants.

  He slung the soldier over his shoulder and grabbed the discarded boots. The body’s sour smell of death and sweat permeated Roman’s senses. It was a familiar smell. One that his mind processed, then disregarded. Wading into the river, he tossed the body far enough to allow the current to catch it. The boots followed. For an instant, Roman thought the dead man would snag on the protruding rock, but the force of the river quickly carried him downstream. With luck the current would take the body over the falls, delaying its discovery and giving them more time.

  While Roman worked Kate sat on the embankment with her arms wrapped around her knees, her eyes staring off into space. She managed to drag some oxygen into her lungs, trying to concentrate on the logic of Roman’s actions and not the face of the dead man. It didn’t work. Every time she shut her eyes, she saw the disbelief on the soldier’s face, so she kept them open and focused on something that did comfort her— Roman.

  He made his way to the embankment, the alert line of his body telling her they were far from safe.

  She swung around, checking the movement when dizziness assailed her. Forced to fight off the assault, Kate rested her forehead against her knees. It reminded her of the time, as a child, she had ridden a merry-go-round. She hadn’t liked the feeling then, either.

  Roman tugged at her wrists, pulling her to her feet. Her knees buckled, but the hands refused to let her collapse back onto the ground and instead circled her waist for support.

  “What happened?” The words sounded foreign to her ears, muted and rough. “The last thing I remember was trying to catch my balance.” She frowned.

  “You took a dip in the river.”

  Memories followed his words in a rush—the fear as she fell, her choking screams for help, the smothering heaviness of the water.

  “You saved me.” Her words held a certain awe that she couldn’t have stopped even if she’d wanted to. “You could’ve been killed.”