A plane. Already? Relief made her dizzy. Or maybe it was oxygen deprivation.
In minutes, her nightmare would be over. She would leave for the United States, see her brother.
Introduce Lucas to his daughter.
When she and Lucas had discussed forever before, she'd mourned leaving her homeland. Not anymore. Cartina might be beautiful, exotic, but she was too aware of the real-life predators lurking in those lush trees.
Run. Don't think. Run.
Around a curve, the road widened, revealing a bridge a couple of hundred yards ahead. The wooden walkway stretched across a gushing river fifty feet below. Maybe her heart wouldn't explode after all. They really would make it before the bombs and bullets tore them apart.
Lucas had come for her, after so long and so many dreams she'd been certain could never come true, he was here. Tall, alive, so wonderfully solid. His intensity that she once longed to rattle was right now pulling them through hell.
Almost there. While Lucas paused to secure his hold on Lucia, Sara stretched for the handrail—
A whistling sounded overhead a second before a hole split through the jungle canopy like a knife slicing through a verdant green sheet.
With a blooming explosion, the bridge blasted apart, ripping the ground from beneath her feet.
Chapter 3
Talk about having his world blown all to hell.
Lucas grabbed for Sara's hand as her feet slid from under her, even knowing he was too far to reach her. She slammed onto her stomach, earth giving way beneath her while she clawed for something, anything to hold her.
Hell, no, this wasn't happening. He refused to lose Sara after finding her again.
He dropped the kid. Catapulted forward. Clapped his fingers around Sara's wrist as she slid over the side.
Toward the fifty-foot drop.
Flat on his belly, he clamped his hand around her other arm, gripping while her feet dangled. Praying the whole freaking cliff wouldn't give way under them both, killing Sara, him, leaving that kid out here alone to die or at the mercy of monsters. Dimly he registered his radio jarring off his waist and skittering to the edge. Over. The radio spinning endlessly down until it splashed.>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.
Holy crap. Sara had stabbed him. So much for a happy reunion.
The warm gush of blood flowed down screaming nerves, slickening his grip on her wrist. He clamped tighter, tighter again, until he feared breaking her fragile bones, but she wouldn't let go and seemed beyond hearing his hissed words in her ear. Even with the hard-rock band of monkeys and backup macaws screeching overhead, he didn't dare shout her out of the daze and risk bringing Ramon Chavez's men down on them. But he couldn't serve himself up for carving, either.
Flipping her to her back, he anchored her to the grassy carpet and tried like hell to ignore the sensual arch of her bucking and writhing under him. Who'd have thought there was enough blood left in his body for a hard-on?