Breaking Daylight

by M. J. Fredrick

  Soft because she was spoiled. Because she was the whore of a drug lord. Her luxuries came at the cost of other people’s lives. He knew that too well.

  He wanted to pull away, but didn’t want to give her that much power. She might as well make herself useful.

  “Where are the others?” she asked.

  “They should be coming along soon. We were first over the cliff. They were covering us, remember?”

  He hoped to hell they’d made it over the cliff. He couldn’t get back up to them, not with these hands.

  “Can you get them on the radio?”

  He snorted. “You think they’ll be free to answer me? We just have to give them some time.”

  “How much farther to the ground?”

  “Don’t know till the sun comes up or we get down there.”

  “Do you think there will be vines all the way down?”

  “I’ve got a hundred feet of rope in my pack. We’ll anchor it here and ride it down. I may even be able to rig a harness.”

  “With these injuries?” She smoothed the antibiotic cream on his palm, gently, thoroughly. Sweetly.

  He pulled away. “We can manage. You may have to haul your own weight.”

  She lifted huge eyes to him. “What?”

  “I have gloves in my pack, and I’ll help you, but I can’t carry you down.”

  She sniffed. “They’re just going to have to find my skeleton up here, then, because I can’t do it.”

  He shifted to put more space between them, as much as he dared. “No skin off my nose.”

  “I thought you needed me to get to Santiago.”

  He rubbed the edge of his thumb between his eyes. “Yeah, well, we’ll find another way.”

  “I can’t do it.” Her voice grew shriller. “I am not athletic at all.”

  “Whatever you say, Goddess. This pack is about seventy pounds without the rope. I’m not hauling another hundred and thirty pounds down.”

  “I am not a hundred and thirty pounds.”

  “Whatever. Your choice. You need to decide before the rain starts and makes the rope slippery as hell.”

  “This isn’t my fault, you know.” She wasn’t as gentle when she wrapped his hand in layers of gauze. “Do you have scissors or something?”

  He fished his pocketknife out with a flick, offering it to her blade first. “What?”

  “I timed it so they wouldn’t miss me till morning. It’s not my fault those men are dead.”

  He didn’t say anything. Isabella waited for absolution. But she was asking the wrong person to bestow it. Why couldn’t the nice young Hispanic soldier have been the one to save her? He seemed so much more sympathetic. This one was tight with suspicion.

  She sawed through the bandage and tucked it into the rest of the gauze, then reached for his other hand. It was pretty raw, with loose strips of bloody flesh. Of course he wouldn’t be able to carry her down. But could she make it?

  “Sergeant?”

  The voice crackling over the radio made them both jump. He fumbled for the radio.

  “Yeah, Cervantes, where you at?”

  “Where you left me, man. Tangos are history. Get back on up here.”

  “Everyone okay?”

  “We lost the agents in the first truck, and Lee was hit by some shrapnel when the truck blew. Jordan’s got him patched up. Get back on up here.”

  “Can’t. We’re pretty far down. We slid. Look, we’ll meet you at the extraction point.”

  Isabella quailed at that. He was sending the others away? She would be alone in the jungle with this man?

  “We’ll come down there.”

  “Too dangerous. Just meet us.”

  “Our vehicle was shot to shit. We’re on foot.”

  “Yeah, all right. Try to reach command and see if they can move the extraction closer. Get us a little more time, since we’re on foot. Let me know.”

  He signed off and looked at her. “Get the rope out of my pack and find the gloves.”

  “Don’t you need to rest?” She pulled his pack open wider.

  “I’ll rest while I make a harness. Not like we have all the time in the world here, Goddess.”

  “We will if we’re dead.” She dragged out the rope.

  “We’ll get to the bottom.”

  “In one piece?”

  He ground his teeth. She could see it in the flexing of his jaw. “Funny how you can trust Saldana with your life and not me.”

  Safe was not a word she would use to describe how Santiago made her feel, but she didn’t think she could convince Shepard of that.

  He worked the rope, twisting it into unfathomable knots.

  “I thought sailors were the ones who knew all the rope tricks.”

  He looked up, mouth twisted in a mockery of a smile. “You know a lot of sailors?”

  Fine. So he didn’t want small talk. “Just one. He was into ropes too.”

  Shepard’s eyebrows jumped and she could have sworn the smile turned real, just for a second, before he turned back to his rope.

  “Did you find the gloves?” He lowered the knotted rope to his lap.

  She held them out.

  He shook his head. “Put them on.”

  “You need them.”

  “Your hands are too soft. This rope will rip you up.”

  “You’re injured. You need them more. I can wrap my hands in gauze. That should protect them.”

  Since that was how he intended to protect himself, he couldn’t argue. While she wrapped the gauze around her hands, padding them but still able to close into fists, Shepard muscled a large eyehook into the ledge and threaded the other end of the rope through it. He knotted that end and tested it to make sure it couldn’t slide through the eyehook, then dropped the other end off the ledge.

  “What are you doing?” She hated the shrill edge in her voice, but couldn’t stop it.

  “Making a pulley. Can you stand up?”

  She eyed the narrow ledge and her stomach dropped. “God.”

  “Hold on to the vines there.” He motioned to the cliff above the ledge. “I need you to put your legs through this.” He held up the harness and she could see the leg holes. Wow.

  “Are you sure?” she asked, grabbing the vines before she even stood, using them to pull herself up in the growing light of dawn.

  “I’m not going to let you fall.” He held the harness so she could put her foot through.

  She clutched the vine as she worked up the nerve to lift one foot. “How do I know that? You don’t seem to like me very much.”

  “Doesn’t mean I want to see you splat.”

  “Why don’t you like me?” Talking gave her the courage to lift one foot and he slid the rope over her boot.

  “Now the other.” He tapped the heel of her left boot. “I’d think it would be obvious.”

  “That you don’t like women?” She lifted her foot and stepped through the loop.

  He snorted. “I got no problem with women.”

  “Could have fooled me.”

  He stood close behind her, so that the only way she could get away was to step toward the cliff. He grabbed her hips and pulled her back. Off balance, she stumbled into him, making him lose his balance. He gripped her harder and threw them both forward. She barely had time to put her hands up to catch herself before she fell face first into the rocky hillside.

  “Christ, Goddess. You trying to kill us?” he demanded, his mouth against her ear.

  “I don’t—”

  “Look, we’re in this harness together. We have to be close. Get it?”

  She took a deep breath, adjusting to the heat of him, the strength of him against her back. “Got it.”

  “Just relax.”

  That was going to happen.

  His knees nudged the backs of her thighs when he lifted his feet to slide them through the loops, then pulled the ropes up and snugged them around their butts.

  Tying their hips together.

  She twisted
to look at him when she felt an extra nudge against her butt.

  “Are you kidding me?”

  He smirked. “I’ve always been an ass man.”

  “Leave off the last word and I’ll concur.”

  “Concur—big word for a whore.”

  She purposely pressed her butt into his groin. “I doubt you’d know what big is.”

  “Yeah?” He tightened his arm around her waist and stepped backwards.

  The air was sucked out of her lungs as they dropped down the side of the cliff. She couldn’t even scream as the dirt and vines zipped by. Was he controlling their descent? Could he stop them before they crashed and broke all their bones?

  Jesus, Jesus, Jesus. The scream was stuck in her throat as they plummeted down. He wouldn’t be able to stop them, not as fast as they were falling, not with his injured hands. She grasped at the rope that whipped past, but snatched her hands back as the rope tore into her bare fingers.

  The scent of heated leather hit her—Shepard’s gloves on the rope, their only brake. Dust rose up as they hurtled toward the jungle floor—Shepard’s boots against the cliff wall as he tried to stop them.

  She squeezed her eyes shut against the dirt and rocks he kicked loose, but when she did she saw the view again that she’d seen from the ledge—straight down.

  Behind her, over the screaming in her head and her own pounding pulse, she heard Shepard’s grunts as he tried to slow them down, his heavy breathing hot against her ear.

  With a jerk that snapped her head back into his shoulder and her butt into his groin, they stopped. He lowered his feet, pulling hers with him, and she was stunned to find ground with her toes.

  As soon as he loosened the rope from around her hips, she turned around and hit his chest as hard as she could.

  “You asshole,” she wheezed. “What the hell were you thinking?” She punctuated her question with another smack.

  “You didn’t like being up there,” he said matter-of-factly, though out of breath himself as he peeled off his gloves.

  His shredded, bloody gloves.

  “You asshole.” She pushed him, and he took a step back. “You did it just to scare me, and now look. I hope your hands rot off.”

  And she bent double and vomited at his feet.

  The goddess was trembling, and for a moment, Alex thought she’d drop into the puke at his feet. That was the reason he held on to her arms, not out of any need to comfort her. He just didn’t want the smell of puke to follow them through the jungle, attracting animals.

  She tilted her head back. Her face was pale in the early-morning light, her lips swollen and dark against her white skin. Her eyes were huge.

  “Sorry I scared you,” he said, but to break off the apology he released her. She staggered before regaining her footing. “You going to puke again?”

  “If I do, I’ll have better aim.” Her tone was sharp.

  He stripped off his ruined gloves and stuffed them into his pocket. “Let’s go, then.”

  With jerky movements, she shifted her pack onto her back and fell into step.

  Humidity drenched his skin as they made their way through the dense underbrush. The goddess had trouble keeping up, stumbling along in her boots, unable to keep her footing. No matter what kind of shape her body was in—and there hadn’t been an inch he hadn’t seen—she panted with exertion.

  But she didn’t complain. He gave her grudging credit for that. He tried to imagine Rebecca in this same situation, but her idea of an adventure was a picnic in the park. He’d teased her about it, but damn if he didn’t wish he was there with her right now.

  He wasn’t able to reach his men. They were on the mountain, he was in the valley. He sure as hell hadn’t expected to be separated from them. They had to find high ground, and soon, if they were to learn the new extraction point.

  Only the goddess was really slowing down now. He turned to see her at least five yards back, her face grim and determined.

  But damn, five yards. He couldn’t keep her safe back there, and God knew where Saldana’s men were. Maybe they thought they’d already killed her, and him with her, but more likely they were looking for her.

  Then there were the jungle animals.

  “You better get a move on if you don’t want to be some animal’s breakfast.”

  Instead of getting scared, she glared through narrowed eyes—a trick, really, given how big and round her eyes were.

  “Breakfast, huh? There’s a concept.”

  “Would you rather eat or be shot?” He waited, shifting his weight.

  “Ah, the new Terror Diet.” She caught up in a few steps, her focus on her feet. “I saw something about it in Entertainment Weekly. If you stop to eat, you die. Based on the movie Speed, I think they said.”

  He scowled. “Can you eat and walk at the same time?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I can barely breathe and walk at the same time.”

  “Good to know your strengths.” Nonetheless, he dug an energy bar out of his pack, ripped it open and passed it to her.

  She took a bite and her mouth twisted in distaste. Okay, so he’d given her one he didn’t like very much to see what she’d do. She didn’t disappoint.

  “God, it tastes like something you scooped off the forest floor,” she said around the mouthful of bar, like she didn’t want any part of her mouth to touch it, lest she taste it.

  “Sorry. No éclair-flavored energy bars.” Sure enough, she’d stopped walking. He backtracked to grab her arm and propel her forward. “But taste isn’t the point.”

  She swallowed gamely—or maybe it was because he yanked her along, and swallowing was just a reflex. But no, she stopped and took another bite.

  “Water?” she asked around the mouthful again.

  “Finish that first.”

  “It’s like sawdust.” Bits of bar flew out of her mouth with her words.

  “I can’t have you wasting all the water washing it down.”

  She sniffed. “It’s called a rainforest for a reason. In that it rains every day. Water from the sky.”

  “I have no way to capture it, and no inclination to stop and try. We need to go up and try to get back in contact with the others.”

  She swallowed again, with more effort. “Up? As in, the mountain?”

  “Higher ground, at least.”

  She looked back the way they’d come. “We left the rope.”

  “We’re not going to climb. There’s bound to be a road, an easier way.”

  “Easier,” she repeated, like he’d made a promise. “Okay.”

  But she didn’t move any faster. Hell, even when he turned to help her, she moved like an old lady. Only when he heard her hiss of pain when her foot turned over did he realize what the problem was.

  “Where did you get these boots?” He motioned to the footwear that was out of proportion to her body.

  “I borrowed them.” She swiped the back of her wrist over her forehead. “I didn’t have clothes for this.”

  “Who did you borrow them from?”

  He inspected a fallen tree, looking for snakes or anything else that might be using the log as a hiding place. Tossing his pack down, he motioned her to sit. She looked at him warily, then did. He reached for the laces, but she drew her feet back, the quickest he’d seen her move in hours. For the first time he saw that her pants were too big as well, rolled at the hem and at the waist. She was tiny, and these were men’s clothes.

  “Saldana’s clothes?” He squinted up at her.

  “No.” She folded her arms over the loose waist and dipped her head. “No, if he knew they were missing—”

  “Someone you trusted?”

  She shook her head. “If he found out someone helped me, it would be terrible for them. I couldn’t ask anyone for help.”

  “Well, you’re not asking me.” He gripped the heel of her boot in one hand and untied it with the other.

  She sucked in her breath when he tugged the boot, and he looked up at
her. She was in real pain. This wasn’t going to be good.

  Blood had soaked through the thick white socks—three pairs, she’d had sense enough for that.

  “Jesus.” He peeled the socks gently, one at a time, feeling her tense with each layer. If there was this much damage after only walking this morning—the outer sock was little more than a rag—what were her feet going to look like? Hell, he knew. What he didn’t know was how he was going to deal with an injured woman in the middle of the jungle with no transportation.

  He peeled down the third sock. Her ankle was so small he could wrap his fingers around it. It was ripped to hell, the skin over her Achilles tendon shredded and the flesh over her anklebone where the heel of the boot had rubbed. The tops of her toes—tipped with red nail polish—were raw.

  He rested her heel on his thigh, then gave the same attention to the other foot. Only after he dragged his pack over did he look at her face. She had braced her weight on her hands behind her, her whole body tense as she stared at her feet.

  “I thought nothing could hurt as bad as stilettos.”

  That comment surprised a grin out of him. “Yeah, you wouldn’t look too great in them now.” He pulled out the peroxide, gauze and antibiotic lotion. “You’re going to have a hell of a time walking and we’ve got a long way to go.”

  She stilled. “You can’t leave me here.”

  He sat back on his heels and sighed. The objective had changed on the mountain—get her back to the States. But how was he going to make that happen when her feet were in this shape and he was on his own? He couldn’t protect her and get her out of here. He’d have to stash her until he could do both. “They won’t hurt you. We’ll get you to the road, they’ll find you, take you back.”

  “To Santiago.” Her voice rose in panic. “If he knows I left on my own—”

  He dragged a hand over his hair. “You tell him we took you.”

  She shook her head violently. “He’ll know. There’s no way you could get in, and I’m forbidden to leave.”

  “Ever?” He opened a new bottle of water, splashed a bit over each foot, soaking the thigh of his BDUs, and he passed the bottle to her. She took it but didn’t drink.