Because he was certain this would be no conversation for young ears to overhear.
Stick in hand, Sara smacked aside spiky fronds since the path continued to narrow the farther they walked from the demolished bridge. Beyond clearing the way, they also needed to scatter hordes of fire ants and countless other deadly insects Lucia would have enjoyed studying.
If only confused emotions could be as easily swept aside.
At least Lucia seemed content to ride on Lucas's back without biting him. He'd fashioned some sort of makeshift baby backpack for her from his vest and vines.
From her perch, her daughter drifted in and out of sleep, her head bobbing, tiny arms looped around Lucas's neck. Sara blinked fast. She wouldn't cry, damn it.
So often she'd envisioned just such a beautiful image, but never in such a horrific setting. A setting they were likely stuck with for two nights. Together. On a bizarre family campout, complete with boa constrictors and gun-toting rebels.
The sun settled fast in the jungle, which didn't leave much more time to put distance between themselves and the compound. Had Ramon noticed her missing yet? With a little luck—and she could use some—he would assume that Padilla's men had abducted her.
Still, she couldn't count on anything. "If Ramon's still alive, I'm afraid he won't give up until he finds me. I just want you to be prepared."
"All the more reason for us to walk faster."
She'd researched as much as she could without raising suspicion, but she'd never been much of a hiking or camping sort. A lack of skills she now regretted. Even having grown up in this country, she was totally dependent on Lucas's survival training.>Half the wooden bridge lay floating in segments fifty feet down in the torrential river. The rest of the bridge dangled, burning, cutting off access to the mobile command post. Something he would worry about later.
Adrenaline searing through him, he locked eyes with hers. "Hold on. Don't move. Just let me pull. Try not to pump your feet, okay?"
"Okay," she answered, barely moving her lips. "Lucia?"
"Is fine."
"Let me go before you—"
"We're not replaying that past again." No more deathbed pleadings from this woman. She wasn't going anywhere if he could help it. "Now shut up so I can haul you up here."
In the back of his brain he knew his arm throbbed like a son of a bitch, but adrenaline chugged through him, numbing pain and fueling endurance. His muscles bunched, strained, as he used his boots to dig into the moist undergrowth and inch them both back. Slow. Progress. He worked one hand at a time higher up her arms, hefting until she could...
Swing a leg over.
Hooking his arms around her waist, he rolled them away from the ledge, and damn that hurt. He swallowed down bile and clutched her harder against his chest. Yeah, it could pass for a lifesaving tangle, but he needed to hold her while he cleared his head of the horror of that moment he'd seen Sara pitch forward toward the river, boulders below. Undoubtedly crocodiles, too.
Gasping, he untangled from Sara before he lost it and sat there holding her until Chavez's men waltzed up to shoot them. He checked behind him and found Lucia safe, hugging her knees.
The kid scrambled to her mama's side. "I stayed quiet, like you said."
Gasping, shuddering, Sara curved an arm around her daughter, smothering the top of her head with kisses. "You were perfect, chica, a very good girl." Her accent thickened with emotion. "We're all right. Everyone is all right."
And he'd thought Sara was gorgeous before. Right now, even with her hair a tangled mess and her face scratched and streaked with dirt, she glowed with love for her kid so strong she just about blinded him.
Resting her cheek on Lucia's sweaty curls, Sara turned her attention to Lucas. "Gracias."
The drone of bugs, screech of monkeys, sporadic spit of distant gunfire faded as the world narrowed to just Sara. He recognized the sensation even five years after the first time he'd felt it. He freaking couldn't breathe.
He looked away from her beauty and terrified eyes, back to the mangled bridge to wrap his mind around an alternative escape plan. "Something must have gone wrong with the smash and grab."
"Smash and grab?"
Steeling himself, he nodded to her. With a final kiss to her daughter's head, Sara shrugged off her backpack, unzipping and digging deep with shaking hands, tossing aside bug repellant, PowerBar packets, peppermints....
"Smash into the compound. Grab you out." What was she doing in her backpack? Hunting for a snack, for crying out loud?
Or another knife. God, he hated doubting her.
He gripped her arm. "Sara. Stop."