Her Kind of Hero. Diana Palmer

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СКАЧАТЬ the road and dashed her down in the dark jungle undergrowth, his powerful body lying alongside hers in dead leaves and debris while they waited for the Jeep that had been chasing them to appear. Thorns dug into her bare arms and legs, but she was so afraid that she hardly noticed.

      Suddenly, the pursuing Jeep came into sight. It braked for the curve, but it barely slowed down as it shot along after the other vehicle. Its taillights vanished around the bend. So far, so good, Callie thought, feeling oddly safe with the warmth and strength of the man lying so close beside her. But she hoped the man who was driving their vehicle and his bearded companion made a clean getaway. She wouldn’t want them shot, even to save herself.

      “That went well,” her companion murmured curtly, rising. He pulled out some sort of electronic gadget and pushed buttons. He turned, sighting along it. “Can you walk?” he asked Callie.

      His voice was familiar. Her mind must be playing tricks. She stood up, still in her underwear and barefoot.

      “Yes. But I…don’t have any shoes,” she said hoarsely, still half in shock.

      He looked down at her, aiming a tiny flashlight at her body, and a curse escaped his mouth as he saw her mangled bra.

      “What the hell did they do to you?” he asked through his teeth.

      Amazing, how familiar that deep voice was. “Not as much as they planned to, thanks to you,” she said, trying to remain calm. “It’s not a bad cut, just a graze. I’ll have to have some sort of shoes if we’re going to walk. And I…I don’t suppose you have an extra shirt?” she added with painful dignity.

      He was holding a backpack. He pulled out a big black T-shirt and stuffed her into it. He had a pair of camouflage pants, too. They had to be rolled up, but they fit uncannily well. His face was solemn as he dug into the bag a second time and pulled out a pair of leather loafers and two pairs of socks.

      “They’ll be too big, but the socks will help them fit. They’ll help protect your feet. Hurry. Lopez’s men are everywhere and we have a rendezvous to make.”

      She felt more secure in the T-shirt and camouflage pants. Not wanting to hold him up, she slipped quickly into the two pairs of thick socks and rammed her feet into the shoes. It was dark, but her companion had his small light trained ahead. She noticed that huge knife in his left hand as he started ahead of her. She remembered that Micah was left-handed…

      The jungle growth was thick, but passable. Her companion shifted his backpack, so dark that it blended in with his dark gear and the jungle.

      “Stay close behind me. Don’t speak unless I tell you to. Don’t move unless I move.”

      “Okay,” she said in a husky whisper, without argument.

      “When we get where we’re going, I’ll take care of that cut.”

      She didn’t answer him. She was exhausted. She was also dying of thirst and hunger, but she knew there wasn’t time for the luxury of food. She concentrated on where she was putting her feet, and prayed that she wouldn’t trip over a huge snake. She knew there were snakes and lizards and huge spiders in the jungle. She was afraid, but Lopez was much more terrorizing a threat than a lonesome snake.

      She followed her taciturn companion through the jungle growth, her eyes restless, her ears listening for any mechanical sound. The darkness was oddly comforting, because sound traveled so well in it. Once, she heard a quick, sharp rustle of the underbrush and stilled, but her companion quickly trained his light on it. It was only an iguana.

      She laughed with delight at the unexpected encounter, bringing a curt jerk of the head from her companion, who seemed to find her amusement odd. He didn’t say anything, though. He glanced at his instrument again, stopped to listen and look, and started off again.

      Thorns in some of the undergrowth tore at her bare arms and legs, and her face. She didn’t complain. Remembering where she’d been just before she was rescued made her grateful for any sort of escape, no matter how physically painful it might be.

      She began to make a mental list of things she had to do when they reached safety. First on the list was to phone and see if Jack Steele was all right. He must be worried about her sudden disappearance. She didn’t want him to suffer a setback.

      Her lack of conversation seemed to puzzle the big man leading her through the jungle. He glanced back at her frequently, presumably to make sure she was behind him, but he didn’t speak. He made odd movements, sometimes doubling back on the trail he made, sometimes deliberately snapping twigs and stepping on grass in directions they didn’t go. Callie just followed along mindlessly.

      At least two hours passed before he stopped, near a small stream. “We should be safe enough here for the time being,” he remarked as he put down the backpack and opened it, producing a small bottle of water. He tossed it to Callie. “I imagine you’re thirsty.”

      She opened it with trembling hands and swallowed half of it down at once, tears stinging her eyes at the pleasure of the wetness on her tongue, in her dry mouth.

      He set up a small, self-contained light source, revealing his companion. He moved closer, frowning at her enthusiastic swallowing as he drew a first aid kit from his backpack. “When did you last have anything to drink?” he asked softly.

      “Day…before yesterday,” she choked.

      He cursed. In the same instant, he pulled off the mask he’d been wearing, and Callie dropped the water bottle as her eyes encountered the dark ones of her stepbrother, Micah, in the dim light.

      He picked up the water bottle and handed it back to her. “I thought it might come as a shock,” he said grimly, noting her expression.

      “You came after me yourself?” she asked, aghast. “But, how? Why?”

      “Lopez has an agent in one of the federal agencies,” he told her flatly. “I don’t know who it is. I couldn’t risk letting them come down here looking for you and having someone sell you out before I got here. Not that it would have been anytime soon. They’re probably still arguing over jurisdictions as we speak.” He pulled out a foil-sealed package and tossed it to her. “It’s the equivalent of an MRE—a meal ready to eat. Nothing fancy, but if you’re hungry, you won’t mind the taste.”

      “Thanks,” she said huskily, tearing into it with urgent fingers that trembled with hunger.

      He watched her eat ravenously, and he scowled. “No food, either?”

      She shook her head. “You don’t feed people you’re going to kill,” she mumbled through bites of chicken and rice that tasted freshly cooked, if cold.

      He was very still. “Excuse me?”

      She glanced at him while she chewed a cube of chicken. “He gave me to three of his men and told them to kill me.” She swallowed and averted her eyes. “He said they could do whatever they liked to me first. So they did. At least, they started to, when you showed up. I was briefly alone with a smaller man, Arabic I think, and I tried to make him mad enough to release me so I had one last chance at escape. It made him mad, all right, but instead of untying me, he…put his knife into me.” She chewed another cube of chicken, trying not to break down. “He said it was a…a taste of what to expect if I resisted him again. When you came in through the window, he was just about to violate me.”

      “I’m СКАЧАТЬ