Private Maneuvers (Wingmen Warriors 4)

If he had to carry her, his hands would be occupied. She would find a way to stop him if she didn't have to expend all her fading focus on standing.

Perry reached behind into his waistband. His hand whipped back around, her vision wavering in a jerky haze.

The cold barrel of a gun pressed to her temple.

"Walk," Perry ordered. "Or I'll shoot you now. Not creative at all, but in this case, I'll settle. Your choice."

No choice at all. She braced a hand on the warmed metal of the car, prayed for balance and shoved to her feet. Palm trees swelled around the stretch of dirt trail, animal sounds echoing from their branches. The twining vines and floral island scents that had seemed so lush and beautiful during her walks with Max now suffocated her.

Jamming a hand in the small of her back, Perry propelled her up the winding path. "I'd much prefer to weight you down and toss you into the ocean, then let you die of an air embolism as you rise. That would be so dramatic. Definitely creative. And it would be quite poetic for you to die in Max's world."

Perry swacked aside a branch to clear her path in a perversely gentlemanly manner. "But you're damned spunky. I would have to use too many traceable drugs to subdue you enough to put on a wet suit."

She let him talk and ramble while she searched the dense path for some sign of an early-rising tourist, anyone to help her.

"Plan B will work as well. The mild dose of animal tranquilizers I used on you should pass an autopsy. Max will know I did it, but will never have his proof. He'll have to live with that nagging question in his mind. He'll know that his picking up Kat Lowry alerted me to finish you. Now."

Live. Max would live. Relief soaked through her foggy brain. She pumped air into her lungs as she huffed up the path. At least Max would survive this nightmare. She could hold on to that.

She didn't even want to think about what it would do to him to lose another woman he loved.

Perry jerked her elbow to guide her. "I wanted to kill him, too, but time's running out before they'll be on to me. Given a choice between you and him, I'll pick you and let him tear himself up with guilt in a living hell."

Darcy stumbled, twisted her ankle. Damn. The sting burned. At least the pain lanced through her fog.

She reached for consciousness. Rational thought. Stay alive. Just stay alive.

Lethargy pulled at her limbs and her will. She battied the urge to lie down and surrender to the driving need for sleep.

Darcy forced herself to put one foot in front of the other. Her boots thudded a steady cadence along the moist, black soil. March, soldier. Old ROTC days blended with childhood echoes. Quitters never win and winners never quit.

Her old man's philosophy had its merits.

Blinking away the grit in her eyes, she trudged up the slope. Finally, after twelve years of avoiding this place, she stepped into a clearing atop Lovers' Leap. Fading stars sprinkled the sky, blanketing the stretch of ocean ahead of her.

Memories whipped over her like the wind gusting across the cliff top, twining around her with inescapable force. She swallowed back bile. The drug was lowering her defenses, but she wouldn't let it conquer her. She would win, damn it.

Although this sure was cutting it close.

Darcy scanned the dense expanse of trees. She couldn't triumph in a hand-to-hand battle, but maybe she could run. Or find a weapon.

A sinister gleam sparked in Perry's eyes. "That's right, think about fighting."

God, had she been mumbling or was this guy that intuitive? She couldn't waste words on discussion, not when she needed to concentrate her fuzzy senses on finding a way out.

"Please do struggle." Perry inched closer, even swung his gun to the side, then arced it back on her tauntingly. "That will make it more fun. The bruises won't matter when your broken body is recovered at the bottom of the cliff. Or go ahead and try to run. That's fine, too. I like the chase and this is the last one I'll ever have."

Okay, Max. This would be a super time to show up. Fuel reserves were heading into the red with the crash only seconds away. Darcy scanned the trees—

And there he was.

Him.

Max stepped out of the forest, into the clearing, his Glock raised and steady just as the sun broke the horizon. The rising sun gleamed through the bleached tips of his hair, silhouetting him like an avenging angel. She knew the drugs were messing with her perceptions but didn't care right now. Max's strength was such a welcome sight she just wanted to soak up the view. He hadn't made her wait at all.

He'd been two steps ahead of them the whole time. How could she have ever doubted? And if she lived through this, she sure wouldn't question this man's love again.

Max measured the steps between himself and Darcy. Then between Darcy and the edge of the cliff.