CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The Rover slid to a stop in front of the shack. All the men fell out, except Winters. He stretched one leg, then the next. Raw agony weighed heavy on every level. Mental. Physical. Emotional.
Brock turned around. “You need a hand?”
“Nah. Just give me a second.”
Luck had kept him alive to this point. Hopefully, penicillin would do the rest and keep his busted ass free of nasty infection. But his molasses-like moves had everything to do with his wounded heart and not his GSW hatchet job.
Mia was feet away. The only thing he wanted to do was gather her tight in his arms and kiss every gorgeous inch of her body, starting with her beautiful face. He wanted to worship her brilliance and strength. He wanted to thank her, relish her, and care for her.
But no matter what he wanted, he knew better. She was an innocent. A perfect woman meant to make a normal man happy. A man who came home every day for dinner, who pushed paper and typed on a computer, nine-to-five. Someone whose most dangerous decision would revolve around day-old tuna salad at the corner deli. Normal, everyday problems.
His problems weren’t in the same hemisphere as normal. His daughter sprang from a sex trafficking ring. The woman he was boots over ball caps for, he’d met because he’d kidnapped her. He tangled with professional assassins and warlords on the regular. A habitual dinnertime just didn’t exist in his world. What woman would even want him?
Not a smart one. And Mia Kensington was the smartest woman he’d ever met.
Fuck this awful stomachache. He’d take gunshot wounds any day over this shit. He felt hot and cold. Cloudy-headed and incredibly, desperately sure of his sub-par value to Mia.
The slower he plodded toward the shack, the more he hated himself for holding back. If he went any faster, it would only serve to hasten the pain. What a catastrophic conundrum.
He was the last to enter the shack. He took in the small space and his brothers-in-arms. Jared, Brock, and Rocco. Faces pinched and etched with concern.
“Where is she?” Winters looked around the bare room. He kicked the dirt floor, and his leg retaliated with an intramuscular fire. “Where the fuck is she?”
No answers. Jared bent over and picked up a plastic handcuff, smacking it against his palm.
Winters stalked to a lone chair and threw it against the shambled wall. His arms roared. His wounds throbbed. The chair took out a few of the rotted wood wall slats. It splintered and scattered on the dirt floor like kindling.
“Calm it down, Winters.” Jared didn’t sound like he was listening to his own advice.
Winters didn’t plan to either. His fists balled tight. His fingernails dug into his skin. This was why he should have stayed the hell away from her. How many times had the poor woman been attacked since he stepped into her life? Goddamn it.
“We’re going after her. Now,” Winters said with a level of anger he didn’t know existed.
“Go where? We need a plan.”
“I’m sick of your slow plans.” He stormed toward the door.
“You stop right there, soldier. What are you going to do? Canvass the entire jungle?”
“There’s that strategy to consider.”
“You’ve got shit for brains where this chick is concerned. Brock, if Winters rolls out of here, you grab him and nail his ass to a chair.”
Brock glared at Jared. “Yeah, thanks, man. That’ll be like catching Niagara fucking Falls with a fly net.”
***
The hand over Mia’s mouth tightened and her heart raced. Adrenaline fueled her. She snapped her teeth open and shut like a crazed piranha, hoping to bite flesh and gain her release. Her elbow arched back and slammed into a brick wall of solid muscle. Her attacker wasn’t fazed.
No. No. No. She refused. This wouldn’t happen.
Summoning power, fortitude, and brawn, Mia bellowed in exertion, pushed off her hands and knees, and slammed the back of her skull into his face. His teeth tore into her scalp, but his hands didn’t let go.
The tiniest whoosh of a curse word danced in her ear. An English curse word. No accent.
The man pinned her legs beneath her and pulled her close as though she were as fragile and delicate as an egg. “Mia. Stop. It’s Cash.”
She opened her eyes, seeing all the dark around her. Her nostrils flared open, closed, open, closed, as she fought for breath and to understand what was happening.
Cash. Titan.
“I’ll move my hand,” he whispered. “But you can’t make a noise. Got it?”
She nodded like her life depended on it. She had to tell him she was being hunted. His tight grip relaxed, but she was still pinned. Cash rolled next to her, dressed in a pile of leaves. His face paint blurred into his costume.
She mouthed to him. Alejandro. She pointed ahead. No, wait. To the right. Shit. Where was he?
Cash cupped her hand. “I got this. Stay put. I’ll come back to you.”
“Don’t leave me. Please.”
He scanned the area, then moved to her ear. “You stick close. I’ll scout him out, then he’s done. You okay with that?”
Mia’s lip pursed into a tight line, but the tears spilled over. His eyebrows bit together, and maybe he was more scared of her crying than finding Alejandro. Whatever the reason, she was glad to stay near him. “Thank you.”
He lifted onto his elbows, tucked a rifle into place, and drew his legs beneath him, motioning for her to do the same, minus the gun. “Ready?”
Mia nodded, but she was suction cupped to the wet ground.
“Look at me, Mia.”
Mia stared straight ahead in the dark, then at him. His face was a shade above invisible. This should be easier. All she had to do was follow Cash. Then Alejandro would die, and she could run back to Colby as fast as her legs would take her. But her body ignored her awesome plan.
“Mia, honey.” He redirected her attention with his thumb and forefinger, tilting her chin toward him. “Focus on me. We’ve got a good man to get you back to. Winters oughta have my ass that I haven’t killed that fucker yet. Put all your fear into a box. We’ve got places to go. People to snipe.”
“A reporter asked a sniper what he felt after he shot someone.” Now wasn’t the time for nervous chatter. She was losing her mind. But it was the only thing she could think of in this moment.
He laughed quiet as the wind. “And the sniper said recoil. And honey, you ain’t even going to feel that. Ready?”
A smile crossed her face. “Yes.”
“Well, alrighty. Get your butt up, and on my six.” He dropped his hand from her chin, and readied his rifle.
He slinked forward, looking more like foliage than a man. She was inches away, scared if he got too far ahead of her, he’d melt into the night. He paused. She held her breath. Nothing sounded. No birds. No insects. No scary night animals. The last of daylight abandoned them, and they were surrounded by the blackest of blacks.
He pivoted quickly. She had no idea why. Her ears burned to hear something, anything. His silent steps crept forward as though following a well-laid trail. She sounded like a freight train pushing through a rail yard.
What looked like a leaf-covered branch motioned her down. She dropped to all fours and flattened on the still warm earth. Wet leaves pressed against her cheek. An insect crawled across her skin. She suppressed the urge to react and prayed for resilience.
A soft flick sounded, followed by a click. Mia couldn’t hear Cash breathe. Couldn’t see the leaves move. Time passed as she recited grade school limericks over and over, pretending she was anywhere else.
The world around went brilliant for a spark of a second. A muffled pop punched the night. Cash didn’t move. Neither did she. The night stilled after the momentary burst of artillery lighting.
Another soft click. He rolled onto his back and sat up. “You all right?”
“He’s dead?” Her ears pounded with racing blood.
“Yeah.”
She strained to hear any other dangers. “You sure?”
“Did you just question my incredible cartel sniping skills? Seriously?” He snorted a laugh.
“Sorry, Cash. Didn’t mean to offend you.”
“I’m just playing. ‘Course he’s dead. And I don’t see any other fuckers out there. Including our boys. There will be hell to pay when I find them.”
“We’re way out in the jungle. How would they know which way to go?”
“You weren’t that hard to track, honey.”
“You think there’s a problem?”
“Hell no. I think they figured they’d had a long day, and I’d take care of this. Bet you they’ve wrangled a bottle of liquor and are waiting for us to mosey on back.”
“Well, let’s go. I need to see Colby.”
“Yes, ma’am. Anything to see ole Winters wrapped around a girl’s finger.”