Headlights appeared suddenly from the direction of the house. Glenna shrank further into the concealment of the bush, thankful that the green pants and shirt she now wore wouldn’t pick up the light the way her ivory skirt and top would have. Rafe had probably thought of that, too. Was that him driving toward her? Should she go to meet him so he wouldn’t strain his leg by carrying her again? She had moved her good foot under her and braced her knuckles on the ground, prepared to stand, when something made her wait.
The moon was in its first quarter, hanging low as it rose over the black wall of the trees. Its slanting rays glinted from a light bar on the roof of the car that approached. Police? Could it be this easIf she flagged the car down…
Glenna stayed where she was. Rafe had said the local authorities were in on the hijacking. And the man who had visited Juarez tonight was called
Captain
Aznar. She couldn’t trust the police. She couldn’t trust anyone…except Rafe.
Rafe. Every other thought seemed to start and end with Rafe. Well, why not? It was better than thinking of this nightmare she was living.
The sound of the police car hadn’t yet faded into the trees when Glenna heard another engine. An open-sided jeep was moving toward her from the house, its headlights off. She sighed in relief when she saw the gleam of Rafe’s blond hair in the moonlight. But she hadn’t doubted that Rafe would come back for her. The jeep slowed to a stop beside the bush where she crouched.
She smiled as she settled into the passenger seat. She knew they still had a long way to go before they were safe, but she was with Rafe now. She believed in him. Everything would be all right.
Chapter 5
A
ccording to Murphy’s Law, anything that could possibly go wrong, would go wrong. Rafe and his team always tried to take Murphy into account when they planned for a mission. If a piece of equipment was vital, they took a backup for the backup. If they needed one escape scenario, they charted at least two alternatives. Even so, every member of Delta Force was chosen for their ability to think outside the box, to operate on their own without direction, to wing it when necessary.
And when it came to this operation, Murphy was an optimist. The jeep bounced along the rutted track with bone-rattling spurts of momentum. The engine sputtered, sounding as if it were running out of fuel, but according to the gauge the tank was still full.
Rafe had checked the gauge before he’d started off. If he’d had more time, he would have verified the condition of the engine as well, maybe thrown an extra gas can and some supplies in the back for good measure, but he’d been too busy persuading the jeep’s driver to part with the vehicle.
That man hadn’t gone down as easily as the other two guards. Rafe had known it would be only a matter of minutes before the alarm was raised, so he’d gone as far as he’d dared in the open before he’d left the road. If he had been alone, he would have taken his chances out-shooting or outmaneuvering any men Juarez sent after him, but not with Glenna along.
Using these old logging trails to cut across country like this would take longer, but it was the best way to avoid a confrontation. With this vehicle, he would be able to get Glenna as close as possible to one of the alternate extraction points his team had specified when they’d set up this mission yesterday. That way no matter how bad the infection in his leg got, she would have a good chance of getting home. He had faith in his friends. Flynn, Sarah and the rest of the team would be back. Rafe just had to make sure Glenna was someplace where they’d find her before Juarez’s men did.
The island of Rocama was divided into distinct geographic zones, depending on the elevation and the distance from the coast. There were saltwater marshes on the east, a strip of fertile land between the northern coast and the highlands and a band of dry forest on the central plateau. Judging by what he’d seen so far, they had to be on the western end of the island. The vegetation that loomed over them on either side of this track was typical of a moist forest, which meant they weren’t as far from the airport as he’d first thought. Glenna’s perception of time during the ride to the Juarez house must have been skewed by her fear.
Then again, that could be said for everything she’d done.
The left fender of the jeep scraped against a moss-covered stump. Glenna fell into his side. “Sorry,” she murmured.
Rafe felt the brush of her hair on his cheek and glanced at her as she straightened up. Dawn had broken fifty minutes ago. Apart from the hour of sleep she’d had in the storeroom, she’d been awake for at least twenty-four hours now. Her hair was a tangled mass of auburn curls. Her face was streaked with dirt. Dark smudges of leftover makeup and circles of fatigue shadowed the skin under her eyes. The dull green men’s shirt and pants she wore sagged loosely around her frame.
Yet to Rafe she was still the same elegant woman who had first caught his eye when she’d stood bravely in the doorway of that plane. Her strength was there in the tilt of her chin and the way she held her body.
She’d done well during their escape from the house. Better than he’d expected, considering that episode in the storeroom. She’d held herself together and obeyed his directions without complaint.
She smiled as she caught his gaze. Her green eyes were filled with trust.
Rafe looked away. Her trust made his job easier, but damn, it was hard to take. She thought he was a hero, but she wouldn’t think that if she knew the direction of his thoughts. He wanted to take her in his arms and hold her and drive the strain from her body. He wanted to bury his face in her hair and draw in her scent. He wanted to kiss her and rekindle those stolen moments in the darkness and use her as she had used him….
No. That was over. He had to focus on his duty. From now on, he had to be a soldier first and a man second.
The engine coughed. Rafe gave it more gas, but instead of lurching forward, the jeep nosed into a puddle and shuddered to a halt. The engine died.
“What happened?” Glenna asked. “Are we there already?”
“We stalled. Stay put, I’ll see what’s wrong.”
Rafe got out and did a quick scan of their surroundings. The growth that flanked the track they’d been following was too thick to discern any distance, but it would also shield them from the view of possible pursuers. If someone was following them, Rafe would probably hear them long before he’d see them. He listened for a moment, but all he heard was the rustle of leaves overhead, the hum of insects and the usual chirps and calls of wildlife.
He turned his attention to the jeep. There were innumerable things that could have caused it to behave as if it were running out of gas. There could be a clogged fuel line, a malfunctioning pump, an incorrectly adjusted carburetor. But he might as well check the most obvious first. He broke a branch from one of the trees beside the track, stripped off the leaves and inserted it into the gas tank. When hehe stick, apart from a quarter-inch section at the very tip, it was bone-dry.
He tossed the stick aside and rubbed his face. Of all the vehicles he could have chosen, it turned out that he’d taken one with a faulty fuel gauge. The tank must have been almost empty to begin with.
“Rafe, what is it?” Glenna asked.
“Murphy at work,” he muttered.
“What does that mean?”
“It means we’re out of gas.”
She climbed from the jeep and hobbled around the hood to his side, holding her pants up with one hand. “What do we do now?”
Good question. They were still at least eight miles from the extraction point. Glenna was in no condition to walk any distance. And he was in no shape to carry her far. But as long as they could stay alive and undetected for another few days…and her ankle healed sufficiently to bear her weight so that they could move closer to the rendezvous…and his wound didn’t fester badly enough to kill him before that…then they still had a chance of getting out of this. Sure. Situation normal, all fouled up.
“Rafe?”
He turned back to the jeep and took out his gun. “Now we improvise.”
The scene around her could have come from a travel brochure. Sunlight filtered through the canopies of towering trees in a dozen shades of green. Lush swaths of ferns and moss carpeted the ground. Birds she couldn’t name sang and swooped through the glade in startling flashes of color.
But Glenna wasn’t looking at the scenery. She sank down at the base of a palm tree and looked at the crumpled skirt in her hands.
When she’d bought this suit, the salesclerk had said it would be versatile. The neutral color could be worn with almost anything. The simple cut of the raw silk could be dressed up or dressed down. Glenna had a closet full of similar outfits in her Manhattan apartment, along with shoes to match.
She liked shoes. She’d never been able to pass by a shoe store without looking in the window, and if there was a sale, well, she seldom came out empty-handed. She was especially fond of heels, even though with her height she didn’t need the extra inches. The ivory pair she usually wore with this suit had been one of her favorites.
She moved her gaze to the dull brown leather that encased her feet. The guard’s boots were practical, she reminded herself. How they looked wasn’t an issue.
She returned her attention to her skirt. It was smeared with dust and streaks of mascara from being used as a washcloth, a result of her vain attempt to repair her appearance. Once again, she thought of what a stupid thing that was to worry about. Gripping the skirt firmly, she ripped the back seam apart, then tore a strip from the bottom of the hem. She wove the piece of raw silk through the belt loops of her borrowed pants, pulled it tight around her waist and fastened the ends together in a bow.
The salesclerk had been right. The suit certainly was versatile.
Glenna drew up her legs and dropped her head to her knees. She felt a lump in her throat that could have turned into a laugh as easily as a scream and that frightened her. She wanted to go home. She wanted her alarm clock and her coffeemaker and the chess problem in the morning paper and all the mundane little details that made up her life.
“Hey.” Rafe put his hand on her shoulder. “It’ll be okay. We’ll get out of this.”
She closed her eyes, absorbing the steadying warmth of his touch. She believed him. He wasn’t like the other men she’d known. He made her feel safe and protected.
It was yet another novel experience for her. From the time she’d been thirteen, she hadn’t accepted protection from anyone. Glenna Hastings was always in control, always strong. But with Rafe, she didn’t have to be.
Before yesterday, she would have been appalled at relying on a man like this. Actually, she would have been appalled at plenty of the things she had done…but she wasn’t. She wouldn’t let herself. Was it because of the situation? Or was it because of Rafe?
Both, she decided. He was a special man. She’d never met anyone like him before. He was like a throwback to the days of Camelot and chivalry. Fairy tales and knights on white horses…
“I brought you some lunch,” he said.
She turned her head. He was holding a ripe mango in front of her nose. Her stomach rumbled and she took the fruit gratefully. “Thanks, Rafe.”
He sat down beside her, leaned against the tree trunk and bit into a second mango.
Glenna noticed a sheen of moisture on Rafe’s forehead. He had peeled his jumpsuit down to his waist, knotting the sleeves in front to hold it up. The greenish brown T-shirt he wore beneath it was darkened with sweat, which wasn’t surprising. The temperature had climbed steadily since dawn.
His arms looked as strong as they had felt. His wrists and forearms were thick with masculine ridges of muscle and sinew, dusted by a thin covering of pale brown hair. At the neck of his T-shirt, Glenna saw the glint of a metal chain. In the center of his chest, the damp fabric clung to the outline of his dog tags. Had she really touched him yesterday? Crawled over him and begged him to touch her? Sometimes the memory seemed unreal, like a snatch of a fevered dream.
Still, no one could deny that he had a physically attractive body. He was tall, broad shouldered, slim hipped, and tautly muscular. He could move with startling speed or loose-limbed ease. The strength he had displayed over the past day would have made any female’s pulse flutter, whether she was half crazy with fear or not.
“Don’t you need to rest, Rafe?” she asked.
“I’m resting now,” he replied. “We’ll wait an hour until it starts to cool down, then we’ll move.”
He really was an incredible man, she thought. Was there no limit to his endurance? After his efforts to get them both away from Juarez, he had to have been near exhaustion when they’d finally stopped this morning, yet he hadn’t rested. He’d used the winch on the front of the jeep to pull the vehicle off the track and conceal it in the undergrowth. He’d found this hidden glade, but he’d no sooner brought her here than he’d been off again, scouting the area. He’d used an empty rum bottle that had been in the jeep to bring her a drink of water, then had gone in search of food.
Throughout it all, he’d returned to check on her every few minutes. Protecting her. Keeping her safe. Just the way a hero should.
He took another bite of the mango, his jaw flexing as he chewed. His eyes were closed, his lashes lying motionless in spiky curves. His skin appeared paler than usual, but that might have been because this was the first time she’d studied his face in full daylight. The white scar tissue on his cheek was extensive.
“Rafe?”
“Yeah?”
“How did you…?” She hesitated.
He licked a drop of juice from his lower lip and opened his eyes. “How did I what?”
She was curious about how he had got his scars. More than that, she was curious about his attitude toward them. He knew they weren’t pleasant to look at—he’d even referred to them to explain why he wasn’t married or engaged—so why hadn’t he endeavored to have them repaired?
Ordinarily, she wouldn’t ask such a personal question of someone she’d only just met. But there was nothing ordinary about this situation. And after what they’d shared in the past twenty-four hours, she couldn’t regard him as a stranger. She put her fingertips on his jaw, tracing the edge of the deepest scar. “How did these happen? Was it on a mission?”