How long had she been sitting? Her arms ached. Her whole body was sore. Her mind was worn with cataloging things about muscle strain, and had already started in on other potential injuries that would come of sitting too long with lack of proper circulation. Among other issues, rotator cuff injury and carpel tunnel. She was wandering off into the realm of the improbable, and if that kept up she’d be no better than a Google search of symptoms, where every diagnosis ended in death.

Think, girl, think. You’re still alive. You’re still able to process thoughts. You’ve got to find some way to get out of this.

Her own pep talks were starting to sound weak, but it was the best she could do right now. She closed her eyes to concentrate, not wanting to see dead jungle cat or minions stacking drugs, that would destroy thousands of lives, into the boat. Obviously, no one here cared about things like consequences. It made it easier to imagine their deaths.

Suddenly there was a crashing in the jungle.

Her eyes flew open, wondering what new hell was approaching. More men from another location? She hoped not, as there were too many here already. She turned her head carefully, trying to see, but the foliage was too dense. Was the vegetation moving? Or was it only wind?

Whatever it was, it was gone now. Nothing stirred, except the men sweltering in the sun. She supposed she should be happy she was in the shade, where it was marginally cooler. That no one had thought to force her to assist. They probably thought she’d make off with the drugs somehow. Or more likely pitch them back into the river.

There came a distant rumble of thunder. Was it that time already? Somehow the morning had turned into afternoon. The sound was drowned out by the beating of rotors. The helicopter had returned and landed again, but this time it didn’t turn off the motor. She could hear it through the foliage, picture it in her mind, blades viciously slicing the air and anything that got too close, a great bloated spider content in its web, waiting for the next meal.

She looked up to see Carlos Alejandro Razala walking through the undergrowth. Two of his men preceded him, cutting a swath through the underbrush, machetes flashing in the fading sun. Carlos wore sturdy boots and pants that looked like he’d just paid $500.00 at a trendy store. The pants were clean and pressed. The boots polished to a high shine. His white shirt didn’t so much as have a sweat stain on it. He was the picture of a fine gentleman, as out of place out here as a leopard would be at a kindergarten.

Yet despite the fact that he clearly didn’t belong, Angelica found herself noting her own flaws. She was filthy and sweaty, and her hair was a sodden mess that had gone far too long between washings. She felt somehow less than human, a wild beast he’d caught and tied to a tree. A jungle woman from a Tarzan movie. Carlos was civilization; she had become jungle.

She looked up at him, knowing her fate, but anything she felt she would not let him see. She would do nothing to amuse him. With her hands behind her back she wasn’t able to stand, another calculated gesture on his part that left her in a submissive position. But she refused to break eye contact. It wasn’t much, but it was everything she had. She would not be dominated by this man.

He pulled out a cigar and smiled around it. A gold lighter flashed and fire glowed at the end of the smoke. Compared to the work Taylor had put into building the campfire and lighting it, it was almost obscene to create a fire so easily.

“Hello, Doctor,” he said, a plume of smoke encircling his head, hiding his features for a moment. In that instant he became a column of smoke, with a single glowing red eye before the smoke cleared. He didn’t look any less satanic then, either. “It’s a good thing we found you, yes? A jungle is no place for a fine, educated lady. You could have been killed.”

Angelica straightened in her bonds. The way her hands were tied, cruelly bound at elbows and wrists behind her, her chest was thrust out. That, too, was a deliberate effort on the part of his men. With her torn shirt, they wanted to embarrass her, make her thrust her breasts at them. Making her an object of sex and derision. They tried to make her less than human. More animal.

Angelica opened her mouth. She had specific instructions for the man, including a road map of where to go and what to do when he got there. She was only able to get to the ‘f” in the four-letter word of her choice, when someone screamed.

Gunfire erupted into the jungle and men dropped bundles to reach for guns. A couple ran to the tree line. Carlos screamed at the men loading the boat to keep loading, that that was their priority. The men look frightened. Someone argued the order, gesturing. Carlos yelled back, reiterating his orders. Men started to reluctantly pick up the bundles. They worked faster now, darting quick glances toward the jungle, definitely on edge.

Angelica slumped in her bonds again, trying to adjust her position to ease the pain. She was losing circulation in her hands. She tried to follow the conversation, but the yelling that followed was in a Spanish dialect she hadn’t quite mastered, and was far too fast for her to understand. The little she understood placed one of the men dead in the bush. There was talk of lots of blood.

Bilateral neck penetration, jugular injury, vertebral compound fractures tracheal, laryngeal, and pharyngeal injuries.

Angelica stared at the ground to not give away anything with her eyes. They screamed ‘panther’, pointing to the corpse of the cat beside her.

Hell, I’m a city girl and I know better than that. No panther is going to attack a large group of men with such a commotion going on. The man was savaged, but no one saw anything, heard anything, until that single scream.

The answer was too much wishful thinking. But she couldn’t help letting the single word escape her lips all the same. TAYLOR! She bit back the scream, but her heart called it for her. Tears welled up and she couldn’t fight the sob that escaped her lips. Taylor was alive. He had to be. He was alive and he was hunting them. One by one. He had come for her.

She had only just formed the thought when another scream sounded from the undergrowth.

Did she feel sorry for the men who died like this? She decided she didn’t. She’d already committed them to the earth in their treatment of her, of him. Even the doctor in her had a hard time summoning the pity. She was changing since coming to this place. She wasn’t sure she liked the person she was becoming.

On the other hand, only the strong could survive the jungle. And she was damn sure she was going to survive this.

For Taylor.

She watched as Carlos ordered his men to gather around the boat where the cocaine had been stacked. They’d finished the task, and the group on the shore looked nervous. Someone trotted over to cut the rope where it ran from her aching elbows to the tree and pulled her to her feet.

She tried to take a stand then, but she’d been on the ground too long, tied too tightly, and her legs refused to support her.

Carlos gave other orders and she was dragged through the leaves and barbs, the henchman’s arm about her waist, half carrying her, his other hand clutching his rifle like a security blanket. He clearly wasn’t impressed he’d been given the job. His face was white and pale, sweat beading on his forehead as he kept shooting looks into the underbrush behind them. It was impossible not to hear the screams, the rapid gunfire followed by more orders crossing over orders until confusion reigned even here where the fighting wasn’t. An argument broke out over who would go with the boat. No one wanted the task, as the boat would have to navigate the water slowly. The banks were too close on either side. The creature would get them.

Angelica was dragged to the waiting helicopter, fighting the urge to smile.

She wasn’t free, but she would be. Soon. She had no doubt he would come for her; it was only a matter of minutes, wasn’t it?

The feeling was coming back to her legs, but still she stumbled, trying to buy him time. How many men were left in the jungle? She had lost count. Surely he was coming. He’d be there soon.

The men grew impatient with her slow pace. They passed her from one to another, taking turns guarding their backs, rough hands grabbing her, mauling her all the way to the helicopter. She was shoved into the back, forced to lie on the floor, her hands behind her head. She hated it, hated the vulnerability and the way her shoulders took up the silent scream of agony again.

It’s only for a few minutes. He’s coming.

Carlos took the passenger seat in the front and two of the bully boys climbed in the back. They kept her on the floor, a gun trained at the back of her head. She thought about pointing out that the act of shooting her would put a hole in the underside of their helicopter. She wasn’t sure they cared a whole lot at that point.

The helicopter took off, leaving the ground and Angelica’s stomach behind. She thought she heard another scream, somewhere in the distance. It might have been her desire letting her hear what she wanted to hear. He hadn’t made it. How would he find her now?

He’ll come for me.

The thought was unsure. Frightened. She’d done what she could, but against so many guns there had been little she could do safely other than drag her feet. Maybe she should have taken more of a chance, fought more, risked more. Why had she taken the safer path?

Disgusted with herself, she barely reacted when one of the men took off his headset and forced it down on her head, over her ears. She heard Carlos when the man nodded to him, letting him know she had them on.

“I’m sorry you got so frightened, Doctor. As I said, the jungle is no place for a sophisticated woman such as yourself. Those men died today because we had to come and get you and your boyfriend. Those deaths are on your head.” His tone was pitying. Mocking.

“Asshole,” Angelica spat into the microphone. Those deaths were his responsibility, for ordering the men into the jungle in the first place. She refused to take that on.

“How charming,” Carlos said with a quiet tsking sound. “But not to worry. Because of you, I have...lost something very important to me. I am no longer in charge. Remind me to thank you for that appropriately later. My boss is now at the house and wants to meet you. You might be interested to know why you’re still alive. Your little boyfriend was supposed to be here, too, but... well, things happen.”

“You put a bullet in him.” Angelica let the fury and frustration and the pain from her ties mask the relief she felt at the certainty that Taylor was still alive somewhere out there in the jungle. Let him think her a simpering fool. “You killed him!”

“That’s what I meant,” Carlos said in her ear. She turned her head, not wanting to see his look of satisfaction. But also worried he would see something in hers that had no business being there. “But, since I only have one of you to show for the lives of my men, I cannot risk you falling out of the helicopter because you were trying something... heroic. I would hate to see such an accident happen. So, try to relax, Doctor. We should be in civilization in a few moments.”

Angelica said something about his parentage, and even made sure it was in Spanish, so he would be sure to understand, but the thug who’d placed the headset on her tore it free again, pulling out a wad of hair with it. Angelica winced and blinked back the tears of pain that filled her eyes. The last thing she wanted was for them to think she was crying.

She’d had quite enough of that already.

Angelica let her head rest on the cold metal of the floor and breathed deeply to calm her pounding heart. Taylor was alive. He was still alive, and he was going to be very hard to stop. For a moment she felt her faith waver. What if they’d shot him since she’d left. What if they really had gotten him this time?

She risked a glance at the pilot. At Carlos in the front. Carlos was talking to someone on the ground. If they’d gotten him, she would know. Carlos would be reacting somehow. There would be victory in his gaze, instead of that trace of fear she saw in his eyes when he glanced back at her.

She hid her face again, turning away so he couldn’t see her smile of triumph.

No, they won’t kill him. They can’t. They tried, but he’ll beat them all.