Sydney had been trained not to break, too. They’d both learned how to hold out against torture.
But would he really be able to sit there, while Syndey was hurting? If he heard Sydney in pain, Gunner was afraid that his control would shatter.
The ropes began to give way even as the knife blade pressed deeper into his skin.
“We have intel...that is what you call it, sí? We have intel of our own, and we know who you both are. We lured you to us because we have...interests...who are after the EOD.”
Interests? Would that be the same interested party who had sent out hits on the EOD agents in the U.S. a while back?
“You cannot tell, señorita, but your friend’s throat is bleeding. There’s a knife against his jugular, and if I don’t learn what I must know, then I will tell my associate to kill him.”
Gunner heard the sound of Sydney’s sharply indrawn breath. Then... “Gunner?”
“It’s a scratch,” he told her, keeping his voice flat. “I do worse than this when I shave in the morning.”
The knife pressed harder.
Gunner laughed. “You think this is torture? You boys need to up your game.”
“Perhaps we will,” the man said, voice snarling. “But I do not think that we need to keep both of you. We already have one hostage, why keep two more?”
Hell. He’d been afraid of this.
Logan and Cale need to hurry the hell up.
“So, which will we eliminate? The lovely lady or the man who thinks he can laugh at death?”
Gunner knew exactly what choice they needed to make. So he laughed again, mocking them, wanting to draw their attention and do anything necessary to ensure Sydney’s survival. “You aren’t killing us. You’re all talk and—”
Blood slid down his neck.
“—and when I get out of here,” Gunner continued, voice roughening, “you’ll be the ones to die.” The words were a promise. “So, what you need to be doing is running, while you still can.”
Was the gun still pressed to Sydney’s head? He hoped not. He wanted that gun—and the attention of the two men—focused just on him.
He’d buy Sydney as much survival time as he could. Cale and Logan would come, sooner or later. She just had to live until then.
My fault. I dropped my guard in the jungle. I got distracted by her. She won’t be dying for my mistake.
“Who is your hostage?” Sydney’s voice came, louder and sharper than he’d expected. She should have stayed quiet. Didn’t she realize what he was trying to do?
“You come into my jungle,” their captor said, “trying to rescue a man you don’t even know?”
“It’s my job,” Sydney snapped.
“You shouldn’t have done this job. You should have just left him to die.” There was the rustle of clothing, and Gunner saw the shadow of their captor’s body shift. He thought the man was coming toward him, but—no. He heard the man step closer to Sydney.
And the knife was suddenly gone from Gunner’s throat. The guard’s footsteps shuffled behind Gunner as the man moved back.
They were told, “It’s time to lose a hostage. Do you want a moment to say your goodbyes?”
Both men were near Sydney now. He could see the dark outlines of their bodies through his mask. “Don’t you even think of killing her!”
“As if you could stop us...”
“It’s all right, Gunner,” Sydney said at the same time. “It’s all right.”
No, it wasn’t. They should be turning their attention on him. Not her. “What kind of coward holds a woman prisoner like this?”