Lacey had minutes before something happened.

If she was lucky, that gun-toting guy from the courtyard was there to rescue the newlyweds. If her bad luck held out, then she might die.

It was a toss-up.

In the event the cops found her body, she knew what she wanted to be in her hand.

And that meant braving the common room.

She dumped what ice was in the freezer into the empty bin sitting on the kitchen counter. Venturing into the living room empty-handed was asking for trouble.

Lacey shoved a bunch of sports drinks off the bar and into the ice. The guys would likely bitch about the lack of rum, but it was still early. She’d make some excuse.

As long as Marcos didn’t ask for breakfast again, she could do this. She could get the camera and maybe, just maybe, make sure her voice was heard someday.

She hefted the bin up off the floor and set her sights on the door to the house. Her muscles screamed at her, but she quickstepped all the way to the house and shoved into the hallway.

Silence.

But not for much longer.

A man geared up with guns wasn’t likely to go unnoticed for long.

Lacey padded barefoot down to the common room door and shouldered in, pasting a smile on her face.

Smoke hung in the air, as though the room had its own atmosphere. If she spent too much time in here, she was likely to get high off the smoke alone.

The only light came from the TV at the other end of the room.

Someone had taped a target to the windows and the guys were aiming rubber bands at it.

That was why no one had spotted the interloper.

She could have wept with relief.

“Morning,” she said in as cheerful a voice as she could muster.

She heard the twing a moment before pain licked up her leg.

“Ouch!” She yelped and stumbled sideways.

A chorus of coarse laughter pelted her from all sides.

Assholes. The lot of them. She hoped someday they all got what they deserved. Justice might be too much to ask for, but karma? That was something Lacey believed in.

She glared around, but it was useless identifying which goon was responsible. She hefted the bin across to the sofa table used as a buffet and bit her tongue.

When they’d first brought her here, she’d managed to pass off her action camera. The small device could clip onto her collar, while the storage and power pack hooked onto her waistband. Marcos had confiscated her more sophisticated gear, but the action camera had eluded notice until one night a goon got a look at the device clipped to her shirt.

Lacey swallowed. That was the night she’d realized just how disposable she was. How much danger she was in.

In an attempt to save the footage, she’d hidden the camera in a drawer of the end table she’d fallen over in her haste to get away from Handsy McGrabberson. Good thing, because Marcos had made her practically strip, in an effort to find the camera.

Before all this, Lacey had taken the footage and created travel vlogs. Money from advertising and her sponsors kept her traveling all over the globe. Now, she could be documenting her death, for all she knew.

Something hit the floor behind her.

Lacey glanced over her shoulder. What had these idiots done now?

“What the—?”

“Watch out!”

She was staring right at the...whatever it was, when it burst into light, the bang so loud her ears rang. Acrid smoke mixed with the cloud, stung her eyes and made it impossible to see.

Lacey bent over coughing.

All around her, people moved and shouted. She could make out shadows and hear footsteps as though at a great distance.

Whatever was going to happen was happening.

She had to get the camera.

Lacey lunged.

Someone ran into her, knocking her sideways.

She rammed her knee into the side table, and once again, found herself falling over the top. She scrambled, jerking the drawer open and pulling out the small, innocent-appearing device.

Lacey blinked. Her eyes stung. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

God, she hated smoke.

She pushed upright and stumbled out the door. People ran up and down the hall, yelling. Nothing made sense to her dulled senses.

Lacey made for the rear of the house and took the stairs two and three at a time.

Were the newlyweds gone? She could only hope they were.

She bolted down the hall, only to skid to a stop as a familiar man in green clothes, carrying a gun, stepped out, pointing the business end of his rifle at her. His lips moved, but she couldn’t hear him.

“I can’t hear,” she said—or tried to—and pointed at her ears.

The man nodded, one curt gesture. He shifted, pointing the gun away from her.

Damn it. What was going on?

The man reached out and grabbed her by the wrist, hauling her toward the side stair.

“No, no, no!” Lacey dug her heels in and pointed at her collar.

The man stopped and turned those piercing eyes of his on her. Tall, dark, deadly, and damn fine. If she’d met him in any bar across the world, she’d have wanted to tangle with him—but not this time.

“I can’t leave or it’ll explode.”

Shane had minutes to exit the building. Their forward team was about to make a break for the gate with the assets. Whoever this woman was, she wasn’t the mission, but neither could he leave her here.

Shane wouldn’t let anyone else die because of him. And that included this woman.

He eyed the bulky collar and mentally calculated the risk.

If it was an explosive device, it wasn’t sophisticated. This operation was built on quick ROI, nothing more. He glanced at the window covered in tinfoil behind him.

She wasn’t going to like this.

Shane grabbed the woman by the hand and pulled her into the room.

“I’ve got Friendly, but we’re going to need cover getting out,” Shane said into the radio.

“We’ve got you. Hurry,” Isaac replied.

“Assets are loading.”

Shit.

Shane ripped the tin foil off the window and without explanation, wrapped the whole sheet around the woman’s neck and head. She sputtered and squawked but didn’t resist. Whoever she was, she was made of tougher stuff than most.

He took her hand, turned, and placed it on the back of his belt, staring at the one eye he could see between the foil.

She squeezed his belt.

Good girl.

Shane took a step and she followed.

“We’re on our way down,” Shane said.

“I’m coming up the back stair. We’ve got to go,” Felix said.

Moments later, the blond Viking caught up to them.

“Guys, they’re starting to organize. You’ve got to go now,” Isaac’s voice was tense.

Fuck.

Shane didn’t have a moment to translate Isaac’s tone for Felix. He’d just have to find out himself how much Isaac liked to understate the situation.

They made it halfway down the stairs before two men darted past.

Kyle had reported that five were shot with tranquilizers, but that still left four or five fully-able, known combatants to deal with.

Shane paused, listening to the footsteps and voices growing fainter.

They could kill the whole lot of them, but that wasn’t what they were here for.

Shane took another step. The woman wobbled, pressing against his back, but otherwise held her own.

They proceeded down the stairs slowly. If they were going to be ambushed, this was where it’d happen.

The house was mostly quiet. Almost eerily so. The wind in the trees was the loudest thing of all.

Maybe they’d miscalculated that storm.

Shane peered out the door.

Isaac and Kyle stood at the gate, rifles pointed at five men with their hands up. That meant Adam, their remaining team member, must be poised as their getaway guy. Except Shane couldn’t take this woman in that vehicle, not if there was any truth to the idea that she was wearing an explosive device.

“We’ve got a problem,” Shane announced.

“You bet you have a problem,” a big, red headed guy in the lineup said.

“Tell me in the car,” Kyle said.

The woman hissed and tugged at his pants.

“She doesn’t have any shoes,” Felix said.

Shane turned, hooked his free arm around the woman’s waist and lifted. She yelped, but otherwise held still as he carried her through the gate. Shane carried the woman all the way to the vehicle.

“Load up,” Adam bellowed from the driver’s seat.

“Can’t, she might be wired to explode.” Shane would have to take her separately from the others. He’d found her, she was his responsibility. Besides, they wouldn’t leave anyone behind. That wasn’t how the Alpha Team worked.

“God damn it.” Isaac’s tension was mounting.

The woman lunged to the left.

“Keys,” she said over her shoulder, far too loud. She must have been almost on top of the flash grenade when it went off.

The woman reached through the open window of a truck waiting in the ditch and jangled them at Shane.

“You take her, everyone else load up,” Adam said, making the decisions for them.

“Copy, and go!” Kyle turned and bolted for the idling vehicle, Isaac on his heels.

Felix took up position for cover in the back of the getaway vehicle.

“Go, go, go.” Shane caught the truck keys and shoved the woman at the vehicle.

Instead of climbing into the cab, she vaulted into the bed of the truck and hunched down, almost out of view.

For the briefest moment, he stared at the last spot he’d seen her, rather amazed at how fast she’d evaluated the risk and gone to measures to mitigate the damage she might do if the worst were to happen. In all Shane’s years, he hadn’t run across many people who could do that. Hell, there were guys he worked with who wouldn’t be that quick.

He was going to get her out of here or die trying.

Lacey clenched the side of the truck, one foot braced on the swell of the fender well and the other against an empty crate wedged against the tailgate. Her rescuer took turns at a break-neck pace, laying on the horn worse than the most daring Jamaican driver, and that was saying something. Driving on the island was playing a life or death game of chicken at the best of times.

The wind whipping past rattled and tugged at the tinfoil hood. She’d seen enough action movies during in-flight entertainment to get the vague idea of what this was supposed to do. But what if he was wrong? What if Marcos or one of the others detonated the collar?

The truck veered off the main road abruptly, sending her rolling across the bed of the truck. She spat curses.

“Sorry,” the guy hollered back at her through the cracked window.

Lacey tilted her head. She’d heard that. Her hearing was coming back, which may or may not be a good thing. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know what was going on.

He slowed the truck to a crawl, the dense growth closing in around them, blocking out the view of the road.

The ringing in her ears was almost gone.

Thank goodness.

The truck stopped and she flopped on her back, staring up at the breadnut trees overhead. A person could die if one of those fell and hit just right.

Her body was nearly boneless with relief. She’d made it out—alive—and with her body camera. The footage would show the atrocities of the people who’d held her hostage. From a mercenary standpoint, it would also bring traffic to her languishing website and vlog channel, but that didn’t matter as much right now. She wanted Marcos to pay for what he’d done to not just her, but others. How many more people had to live with nightmares because of him?

“You okay?” The man leaned over the side of the pickup peering at her.

He had one of those faces prone to frowning.

He’d come back for her. She could kiss him, she was so damn grateful.

Lacey was too tired to speak. She gave her rescuer a thumbs up.

“We need to dump the truck and get that thing off you. Storm’s coming in.”

“How, exactly, do you plan on doing that?” She levered herself up in time to watch his broad shoulders as he walked away from her.

So much for getting an answer.

Lacey pushed to her feet and examined the ground. Her feet were tough, but she was also human.

She crawled out of the pickup bed and shambled after tall, dark and deadly.

The turnoff he’d taken wasn’t for a house or shopping strip. This appeared to be the local dumping spot for God-only-knew-what.

“Over here,” the man called.

Lacey picked her way toward him, eyeing the blue plastic barrel that had been cut in half. Several inches of fairly-clear rain water filled it.

“I’m not going to like this, am I?” she asked.

“Probably not.” He stared at her, his dark gaze stony. That look should chill her, put her off, but there was a quiet confidence to him that set her mind at ease. If he could get the explosives off her, he’d do it.

“Okay, what am I doing?”

“I need you to submerge the collar in the water while I cut it off you.” He gestured at the water.

“I don’t—”

“Every minute it takes for me to explain is another minute they could get in range and kill us both.”

“I see.” Lacey swallowed. “I guess we’re doing this now?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” She blew out a breath. “Let’s do this.”

He reached up and tugged on the tin foil, pulling it from around her neck, then balled it up and shoved it in his pocket. They were in the middle of a dump and instead of tossing the garbage out, he kept it. Whoever this man was, he was thorough and knew what he was doing. If she was going to trust anyone with her life, it should be him.

“If I die—”

“Then I’ll probably be dead, too. Come on.” He pulled a pair of needle-nose pliers from his belt of tools and offered her his hand.

“Why are you doing this then? You don’t know me.” She took his hand and lowered herself to her knees.

“Deep breath. Hold it for as long as you can, understand?” He took a knee next to her, hands at the ready.

She eyed the water.

It wasn’t as clear as she’d first thought.

“On three,” she said.

“One... Two... Three.”

She sucked down a deep breath and plunged her head into the cool water. It took a little bit of slithering around to get her head, neck and shoulders submerged, but she managed it. Her stony-faced rescuer guided her, his touch firm, pressing her down just enough that she wondered if he’d hold her there until he was done.

Lacey fought against the urge to gasp and blocked out that thought.

She could hold her breath for close to two minutes, but that was with some warm-up. She was an excellent swimmer and diver. Had to be, in her line of work. The best episodes were where she risked her life, and there were few places as dangerous—and magical—as the ocean.

His hand gripped the collar, holding it away from her skin. She could feel the tool and his knuckles working against her.

Her lungs began to burn.

She let out a little air through her nose, counting off the seconds.

The water muffled his muttered curses.

Something must not be going right.

She gripped the sides of the makeshift trough and squeezed her eyes shut tighter.

Much longer and she’d need to come up for air.

She felt a metallic snick echo through the water and the weight of the collar fell off her shoulders. The man grasped her and pulled her up.

Lacey tossed her head back, sending her soaked hair flying around, and gasped for breath.

“Did it work?” She patted at her neck and shoulders.

“We need a container. Something we can put the water and it in. Hurry.” He pushed to his feet, leaving her sitting in the dirt and mud.

When all this was over, she wanted an explanation, a shower and then to lay in peace for hours.

She got to her feet, wobbling slightly, and glanced around.

“Hey, five-gallon bucket. Will that do?” She pushed a bush aside and grabbed the handle of the bucket.

Whatever had been inside was congealed and smelled like death, but there was a lid.

“That’ll do.” Her rescuer took the bucket from her and set it next to the trough.

Her explosive collar sat in the bottom, glistening like some sort of dangerous, aquatic creature.

The man picked up the barrel and sloshed the water and collar into the bucket. Lacey scrambled to get a grip on the other side and between them, they emptied most of the contents into the five-gallon bucket. He clamped the lid on top and carried it back to the truck.

“Come on, we need to get out of here,” he said.

“Why bring that with us?” She jogged around to the passenger side and got in. With trepidation, she eyed the bucket he strapped to the tail gate with bungee cords.

He climbed into the driver’s seat and shifted into reverse.

“Do you make it your mission to answer one out of five questions ask of you?” She didn’t want to be ungrateful, but damn it, she’d been bossed around on pain of death for long enough. She wanted someone to answer a simple question.

“Yes,” he replied.

The truck shot backward. She yelped and braced a hand on the dash while scrambling to get her seatbelt buckled.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“You get to ask questions, but I don’t?”

“Just making conversation. You seem a little tense.” He whipped the truck around on the shoulder of the road and merged with the fast-paced traffic.

“Lacey. That’s my name. What’s yours?” She sucked down a deep breath while her heart hammered against her ribs.

“Shane. Nice to meet you, Lacey.”

“Do you pick up all the ladies like this?” She laughed, half delirious on adrenaline and disbelief.

“No.”

“Boy, how am I so lucky?”

“Why were they holding you, Lacey?”

“They couldn’t get any of my sponsors to pay the ransom, and they refused to let me go without some sort of compensation.”

“How do I know you weren’t working for them?”

“How—really?” Lacey gaped at the man and briefly imagined a swift kick to the balls.

“I need to make sure I’m not endangering our clients by bringing you along.” He glanced at her.

The nerve.

He’d just de-bombed her and now he was having second thoughts.

Lacey dug into her pocket.

“Do you know what this is?” She held out the tiny body camera she used for on-the-go recording.

“Action cam?”

“Sort of, but yeah. This should be all the evidence you need to identify every one of those bastards.” She swallowed, remembering all too well the night they’d scooped her up off the street.

“Lacey, breathe. You’re okay.” Shane reached over and briefly squeezed her knee. “That recording will help a lot of people. How’d they get you?”

“I... I was in Negril. I’d heard this one café had the best smoked fish. I ate until I almost made myself sick and while walking back to my hotel this truck stopped. A guy got out. He was American. He pointed a gun at me and told me to get in the back of their truck.” Lacey closed her eyes. “That was...weeks ago.”

Rain pelted the windshield.

It’d rained that night, too. She remembered getting soaked, her tears mingling with the rain, shivering. It’d felt like the whole world was crying with her.

“Why the water and tinfoil?” she asked to get the conversation off her.

“The device around your neck isn’t large enough to have much of a detonator or be very complicated. If it’s even an explosive—which it might not be—it’s likely on some sort of short range radio frequency. The tin foil disrupts that signal, and the water would prevent any detonation from taking place. Keeping it in water is about minimizing the blast.” He spoke so matter-of-factly, as though it were obvious.

“I wondered if it was real, or if they just slapped something around my neck to scare me.” Lacey pulled her knees up to her chest, perching her feet on the edge of the seat.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

“I should have... I know better than to let something like this happen to me. I’ve traveled around the world on my own.” She shivered. Oh, she’d been detained a number of times, but after a little sweet-talking she normally got to go her own way. But not this time.

“You stayed alive. That’s something.” Shane glanced at her. “You said your sponsors wouldn’t put up your ransom? What do you do?”

“I’m a travel blogger.” She laughed, a bitter sound in the otherwise silence of the truck cab. “That’s why I have the cameras. Well, camera now. They destroyed the rest of my equipment, I think.”

“You can make a living doing that?”

“I get by. My sponsors, though, they wouldn’t pay the ransom, and my family doesn’t have that kind of money.” She swiped at her cheeks. Marcos had called her sister once. Hearing her voice had nearly killed Lacey.

“You’re safe now. We won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Who are you guys?” She eyed the ridges of his bullet proof vest under his shirt.

“Aegis Group, ma’am.”

She had no idea who—or what—Aegis Group was, but she was sure as hell grateful to them.