Chapter Five #2
Carefully, he scrambled across the rocks, trying not to leave any trace that they had gotten out of the water there.
Jackson didn’t see Aguilar, but he was certain the killer was still hot on their trail.
No way to tell if the killer had taken the time to hot-wire a boat.
If he had, more than likely he would’ve taken a larger, faster one, but it would’ve been perilous for him to go through the right branch of the river since it was narrower and the rocky outcrop could easily damage the hull of a bigger boat.
“Are you okay?” Jackson panted, coming up beside her.
Coughing up water and shivering from the cold, Christina nodded. She raised her head, her long, dark brown hair plastered around her face. Her full lips were pink and trembling. When her gaze met his, her eyes were weary, but there was still a spark in them. A fire burned.
One he was familiar with—pure determination. None of her self-confidence had faltered over the years.
Even as a teenager, she’d been stubborn and tenacious.
And he had loved her for it.
“I’m…okay,” she said, shakily pushing to her feet.
“Take a minute. Catch your breath.” He stood up beside her and peered into her face. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or the rush of surviving two close calls, but as he looked at her—shivering and soaked and not a stitch of makeup on—he was struck by how beautiful she was.
“We don’t have a minute,” she said, coughing again. “To spare.” She unclipped the life vest and tossed it in the water. The jacket washed away downstream. “We need to go.”
As soon as Christina started climbing up the rocky embankment, she gasped in pain.
“Can you make it?” he asked.
“Yeah. I’m sore and wiped,” she said, panting. “But I can do it.”
“You sure?”
She scrambled up the rocks. “I’m fine.”
Once they reached the ridge, he led the way through the trees, getting them out of sight from anyone on the river. “Let me check your other wound.”
She clutched her arm. “It’s not bad. It just hurts, but really, I’m okay.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.” He went to unzip her coat, and she moved away.
“It can wait.” She glanced around. “Until we get somewhere safe. Any idea where we’re going?”
“The plan is the same.” He knew people he could turn to all over the state. Looking at the position of the sun and the mountains, he pointed in the direction they needed to go. “But we’ve got to hoof it.”
“How far?” Shivering, she clutched her arms. “I don’t know how long we’ll last out here in the cold, soaking wet.”
The river had carried them most of the way. Cutting across the land rather taking the stream would save them time. “Rough estimate, a mile. Maybe a bit more. If we keep a steady pace, we should be able to make it in twenty minutes.”
Her teeth chattered. Nodding, she clamped her lips closed, as though to control the sound, but he could see the pain and weariness in her eyes, the worry bleeding through her expression.
“My face is about to be all over the news. Again. Soon. If not already. Are you confident where we’re going will be safe?”
They were going to another person in witness protection.
Some people in the program were criminals who had turned traitor.
Others were innocent, trapped in a bad situation, resolved to do some good.
Those were the ones he’d gotten to know, befriended and checked on beyond what was required.
In turn, they treated him like family, since he was one of the only people who knew their true identity, the circumstances they had fled, the loved ones they’d had to leave behind.
They owed him nothing, but in a pinch, they’d help him without question.
“It’s safe.”
“Okay,” she said, her breath crystallizing in the air, picking up her step and passing him.
Jackson stared after her. The past adrenaline-charged hour had his head spinning.
All the things that had transpired, a whirlwind of violence and chaos, and the things she’d said were settling in his mind.
He struggled to reconcile the girl she’d been, wild and passionate, with the woman she’d become. A wily spy.
A lifetime ago, he’d thought Christina was the woman he would one day marry. Of course, they’d only been na?ve kids at the time. Sixteen and seventeen. With no real concept of how hard, how ugly the world could be.
Then again, she knew. The beatings she’d endured every time her father got drunk, trying to escape the grief of losing his wife to cancer, and took his anger out on her with his fists.
Jackson had had no clue how to protect her back then.
From her father or the club. He’d been the one who was sheltered.
Not her. He’d never fully understood what she went through growing up with the Iron Warriors.
Maybe he hadn’t wanted to see it. The gritty side of her life that his parents had warned him existed.
The parts that had forced her to thrive and bloom, like a daisy in the desert, despite the harsh conditions.
She was smart. Shrewd. A survivor. That was what Kehoe saw in her and what had told him she could pull off being an asset inside one of the world’s most dangerous crime syndicates.
It was those same qualities Jackson had to keep at the forefront of his mind every step of the way with her. Especially when he questioned her again.
The best assets were master manipulators. Operating in the moral gray zone. The trick was their handlers had to ensure the asset didn’t stray too far toward the dark side, getting lost. Without Kehoe to guide him, Jackson had to figure this out and assess her on his own.
His past relationship with Christina, as well as his feelings for her—which might have lessened but never died—his instinct to protect her, were as much an advantage as they were a liability.
Once they reached shelter, warmed up, and she let down her guard, he intended to squeeze every bit of intel that she had been holding back out of her.
For Christina’s sake, it had better be vitally important—and she had better tell him the truth.