Sara could almost swear the air smelled better outside Ramon's fortress walls, even with the steamy humidity laden with the scent of decomposing undergrowth. But she didn't have time to analyze oxygen particles and rotting foliage. She needed to melt into the jungle with Lucia before someone noticed she hadn't returned to their quarters.
Squeezing her daughter's hand, she took reassurance from the strength emanating from Lucia's eyes. Her child had been born with a steely spine, unlike her mother who'd learned to cultivate one later. Lucia might look just like her, but she acted more like Lucas.
Or like her father could have been if she'd been gifted with the time to dismantle the walls around him. A tougher task than hefting those loose stones from the barrier behind her.
A silly thought, more like one she would have entertained before. If she didn't pull herself together quickly, she'd be blowing bubbles in the wind and letting others take care of her again.
At least she had her knife secured in her belt, and she wouldn't hesitate to use it.
She tugged the backpack straps tighter for the walk ahead. With luck, they would reach the bridge in under an hour. A couple hours more would bring her to a village where she could meld into a new community until she figured out who to trust. If memory served her correctly, there should be a base nearby. Frequent planes overhead had reminded her too often of Lucas over the years.
She clasped her daughter's hand and fast-walked toward the towering hardwoods. The dense branch ceiling overhead reverberated with a symphony of monkeys, macaws and heaven only knew how many more animals.
Noisy animals, thank heavens, that would help mask any sounds of her escape. They would stay parallel to the path for about a mile to disguise footprints, then blend back onto the safer route once she cleared the bridge.
Two more steps and they were out of sight. Allowing herself an exhale of relief, she turned her head to smile down at her daughter and—
A hand clamped over her mouth, strong, yanking her back against a solid masculine chest. Lucia stumbled away, eyes wide with terror.>She would only have a small window of time to slip out during the guard changeover. But she had to be gone before nightfall.
"Our walk will be a long one, just as you always ask. You'll have to be very good, though, and quiet. Definitely quiet. Then we can stay out longer than a half hour, all right?"
Nodding, her daughter pursed her tiny bow mouth shut tight and continued to bounce a path over the fluffy comforter, willing to do anything for more outdoor time, even stem her endless flow of chatter. Higher and higher she jumped, rattling the vase of orchids on the bedside table.
Sara tucked a knife inside the backpack, an ugly serrated knife, the riskiest of her stolen survival gear. Once clear of the house, she would secure it to her belt.
She would have preferred a larger blade but feared that would be too noticeable missing from the wooden block. So she'd opted instead for a loose steak knife in a kitchen drawer.
Footsteps sounded in the hall, thudding on the hardwood floors. Then muffled by the thick Persian runner closer to her room. Dios. She snatched up the backpack.
A knock sounded at the door.
Ice chilled her veins, like the pulse of an IV solution fresh from the refrigerator. Shoving the backpack under the bed, she raised her finger to her lips, scrounging for a smile for her daughter.
"It's all right to talk about the picnic, but keep our walk a secret," she whispered, regretting that she had to encourage her daughter to lie.
Turning, she opened the door a crack. Ramon stood in the hall, such a benign-looking man in his favored workout clothes with a tropical fruit smoothie in his hand. He battled age as fiercely as rival factions during his freedom fighter days.
She inched the door wider. "Si?"
Lucia leaped from the bed. "Tio Ramon!"
He scooped her up and twirled her high, as he did with his own grandchildren. Sara had long ago given up shuddering when he came near. At least he didn't harm Lucia, beyond the mental games of cultivating dependence. She'd also given up trying to understand the twisted logic of this man.
She hated him, but the hatred jumbled in with so many other emotions and memories of racing to hug him as a child, much like Lucia. And he'd brought in the best of care for her during her difficult pregnancy, even shipping her off to an exclusive, private clinic for the delivery.
In return, she lived under his constant control, as did his children, sisters and grandchildren. He said he considered her family, too. Her father would have done the same for Chavez women.
Ramon had only hit her once, just once when she'd asked to leave after Lucia's first birthday. He'd jarred her teeth and complacency, as well as fracturing her jaw.
He'd told her Lucia would suffer for any further betrayal of their family and country. In fact, he'd already murdered Lucas and Tomas because of her disloyalty, by shooting down their departing military helicopter. Tomas would be alive if she hadn't plotted to turn him into a traitor to their people.
She wanted to believe he'd lied. Regardless, there was nothing she could do for either of them, and she had to protect her defenseless daughter. She focused on shedding fluff for leather. Tougher. Stronger. Like Lucas.
Ramon lowered Lucia to the floor. "Enjoy your picnic, little one. It is fun to be spoiled every now and again, no? Just don't stay out too long. We need to lock down the compound tonight."
A shiver chased up her spine, but she refused to let her nerves fray. She'd held herself together the past years through sheer grit. She couldn't fail her daughter.
"I hope nothing's wrong," she asked, even though she already knew differently.