"Yes, plenty of bugs." She gave the shoelaces a final tug, her hair dusting the ground. "Now we need to be very quiet. Shhhh."
"Shhhh." The child echoed, head bobbing, swishing forward a tiny ponytail he'd missed seeing before.
A girl. The woman's daughter, or definitely someone close to her, given the trusting way the little one slipped her hand into the woman's.
Dragging the picnic basket nearer, the woman flipped open the lid. Why leave the safety of the estate, and why climb through the wall for just a meal? Something wasn't right.
Hefting, she replaced the stones until the wall appeared untouched then turned back to her basket, reached inside and tugged, hard. That must be one helluva heavy sandwich. Finally, the bundle inside came free—a backpack. No PB & Js and apples in sight.
She slid her arms through the shoulder straps and shook free her tangled hair to reveal...
Sarafina Tesoro Quade—his wife of five years, his bride for only a few minutes—was alive.
Chapter 2
Freedom.
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.
Sara kicked, bit, and a steely arm clamped around her waist.
Dios rnio. Her heart lurched up into her throat. Horror, frustration, futility clawed inside her as hard as she clawed at him.
She'd been so careful. How could they have found her already? And who? Ramon's men or Padilla's?
Either way, she couldn't give up. For her child, she had to fight. Please, Lucia, stay back.
She rammed her elbow into his gut, but his hold didn't even loosen. Lucia squeaked, darting behind a tree. Good, chica. Stay there, she willed with her eyes.
Sara slammed her head back, cracking her skull against the man's face. He grunted. A promising reaction.
Spurred, she hooked her foot behind his knee and leaned, using her weight rather than muscle to drop them to the ground—a more level playing field. Steely arms locked around her as they tumbled. Strong. He was so damn strong.
But she was smart and determined. She stopped fighting, stunning him still long enough for her to slip her hand to her waistband.
Her fingers closed around the knife's wooden handle. She wasn't the piece of fluff who fainted at the sight of blood any longer. She eased her arm up, slowly, blade tucked out of sight until just the right moment.
Fired by the maternal drive to protect her child, Sara stabbed deep into human flesh.
Pain seared Lucas's arm.