Navy Seal To The Rescue. Tawny Weber

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СКАЧАТЬ She swiped again, trying to get a good hold on the metal with her sweat-slicked hand.

      Get out, get out, get out, she mentally chanted, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Get out before they see you.

      She heard footsteps.

      The sound of something hitting the wall.

      They were coming.

      She let out a squeal of panicked relief when the door opened. She tried to run, but her knees were as useful as Jell-O, so she hung on to the doorjamb to keep from falling on her face.

      “Hey!”

      Lila heard the office door ricochet off the wall again, the horrible squelching sound of someone sliding in blood, a big body hitting the wall.

      They’d seen her.

      Lila considered herself to be a smart woman. A world traveler trained in self-defense. A woman who followed and respected the law.

      She knew she should scream. Call for help, yell for the police. There were at least fifty people twenty feet away. Someone would help her. Someone would save her.

      “Hey. You.”

      Lila didn’t even wait a heartbeat. She didn’t scream. She didn’t head for the kitchen.

      Nope.

      She ran like hell.

      * * *

      Ripped out of a dream, Travis jerked awake, instantly coming to full alert.

      Where was he? What’d happened?

      Hammock.

      The beach.

      In Costa Rica.

      Shit.

      He rubbed his hands over his face, cleaning the fatigue away before glancing at the sky. From the angle of the moon, the position of the stars, he estimated that he’d slept for about three hours.

      Three uninterrupted, peaceful hours.

      Not bad, he decided as he swung his legs out of the hammock and, balancing carefully, got to his feet. He doubted he’d get any more tonight, but three was good enough.

      He’d go back to Paulo’s house—a hut, really—and chill. He was a man skilled in keeping his mind occupied and hands busy. A talent that came in handy before a battle. And, apparently, while mulling what the hell to do with the rest of his life.

      Because the life of a beach bum was getting old.

      Grinning a little because, yeah, those had been a great three hours of sleep, Travis headed for his temporary home.

      But before he had taken ten steps toward the hut, he had his hands full of a hysterical blonde. Her hair flew around him in silken ropes. He felt rather than heard the loud crack as his knee gave out, but the woman continued to grab at him, her fingers clutching his back like he was a lifeline.

      Despite her violent shaking and gasping sobs, he knew the only thing keeping him from planting his face in the sand was the woman grabbing at him.

      If that wasn’t annoying, he didn’t know what was.

      Travis gritted his teeth against the pain and grabbed her right back. He damned well wasn’t letting go until he had his footing. After a few seconds, her continual squirming and wriggling had a different effect on his body than vicious, shooting pain.

      Whoa. Now that was a sensation he hadn’t enjoyed in a long time. Too long, he figured, if a panicked woman hell-bent on knocking him on his ass was a turn on.

      “Nice to meet you and all,” he said, reaching around to grasp her wrists and unleash himself from her hold. “But I think that’s enough for now.”

      “No. No, no, no,” she gasped, her words breathy with terror. “You’ve got to help me.”

      “As soon as you let me go.”

      But instead of releasing her hold, she tried to burrow deeper.

      “Lady, you grab me much harder, you’re going to be inside my skin.”

      He managed to break her arm’s lock on his waist, but before he could unwrap himself, she jumped in his arms, shoving him off balance again.

      Travis didn’t bother to censor his curses as he struggled to find his balance.

      “What the hell is your problem?” he finally snapped, getting a firm grip on her shoulders and pushing her to arm’s length. She shook harder, her hair flying as she looked behind her then back at him.

      It was the sexy blonde from earlier that afternoon, he realized. The one he’d flirted with. If this was her follow-up, it was seriously twisted.

      And, based on his body’s reaction, it kinda worked.

      “They’re after me. Bad men. They saw me. Police. We need the police.”

      Seriously? Adjusting his weight onto his left leg, Travis rolled his eyes.

      “Get a grip,” he told her.

      “Dead,” she gasped, almost sobbing the words. “They killed him. He’s dead.”

      “What?” Dead? His senses hitting high alert, Travis looked over her shoulder, tracking the path she’d run. He could see the furrow of her steps in the sand and the lights of Casa de Rico beyond. There was a handful of people on the beach, but they all looked to be alive. “Who do you think is dead?”

      “He’s dead. They shot him. Oh, God, there was blood everywhere.” Swallowing so hard he heard the click in her throat, the woman had to take a couple of deep breaths before she could finish. “They killed Rodriguez. The chef at Casa de Rico.”

      Her thick lashes were spiked with tears over eyes of a misty, sea green that might be pretty when they didn’t have that glassy sheen.

      Someone down the beach shouted. She gave a short scream and jumped, turning so fast that her hair slapped him in the face.

      “Is that them? They’re going to come after me. Oh, God. I need to get out of here. I have to get away.”

      Her voice was so thick with panic, he could barely make out her words. He reached out to grab her when her body sagged, not surprised to feel her shaking like an earthquake. She screamed again as soon as he touched her.

      “Calm the hell down,” Travis snapped. Then, seeing no other option that didn’t make him a complete jerk, he grabbed her arm.

      “What are you doing?”

      “Taking you somewhere safe.”

       Chapter 3

      Safe.

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