Chapter 19
All of thisis wrong. So wrong...
To say Gemma was having massive buyer’s remorse over her agreement with Charlene was an understatement. Her deal had been for nothing. The main reason she’d worked something out with the CIA was to ensure Dallas got out of the country safely.
And he wasn’t taking her help.
She pulled her knees in closer to her chest in the vehicle Carson had left them. The jeep was enclosed and cool air spewed from the vents, but a sheen of hot panic coated her flesh.
She’d written her life away in blood and was in no better position than she’d been in three days ago. Her hopes of cutting ties with the organization that had put itself and its plan before her were long gone.
Dallas’s arm rested between them, and his eyes were locked on the road. Except for the odd grunt or few words when necessary, he’d been silent.
Was it too late to back out?
No. Dallas was still in danger just by being with her. Once she wasn’t attached to his side, she wouldn’t have to worry about him being shot. She could do this. She could put up with the CIA a little longer and then bail. Hell, maybe even just one last stint would satisfy them. Depending on what they had lined up, she could be done in days, weeks, or a couple short months, worst-case scenario.
Then she could go back to Dallas.
Only the same dilemma remained. She’d be off the hook with the government but he’d still be working a deadly career that she’d have to put up with.
As shitty as it was, their once-a-year romp really was for the best.
“You’re quiet.” The rumble of Dallas’s voice made her want to demand he pull over the vehicle and say to hell with her fucked-up plan.
“There’s a lot to think about.”
“Having regrets?”
She picked up the water bottle beside her thigh and ran her thumbnail over the label. “Of course. You think I want to do this?”
“Uh, kinda.”
She bit the inside of her cheek and shot him a fiery stare. “Can you cut the attitude?”
He brought his hand to his forehead and ran his palm down his face. “Sorry. I just... this isn’t right. We should be together right now. I know you’re trying to protect me, but please. I’ve protected myself my whole life. I can handle this—and keep you safer than they can.”
She rested her palm on top of his hand relaxed on the console. “I know that. But all of this is my fault. If I go back and work for them... even just for a little while... it’ll make all this go away. If I’m not in Colombia or Ecuador, there will be no way Silas can find me. Which means the heat will be off you.”
He drummed his thumb on the steering wheel. “If you’d just wait a few hours, we could both be on a flight out of here.”
“We could both be dead, too. Especially because now you have Silas meeting you,” she said, flinging her hand into the air.
“I didn’t have much choice. Turning down the deal would have sent up even more fucking red flags.”
She squeezed his knuckles. “That’s why we have to do it this way. We’re both in volatile situations.” She wet her lips. “How would you feel if Silas and his men ambushed us? Shot me in the head and then—”
“Don’t even go there. It wouldn’t fucking happen. I wouldn’t let it.”
She pressed her lips together. “You’re a tough guy, Dallas, but you’re only one man.”
“If my fucking brother would just get back to me—”
“He will. And once Silas sees you’re not a threat and you’re not harboring me, you’ll be free to leave the country after today.”
“I want you to call me when you get to your posting. I can meet you and we’ll leave from there. Okay?” Hope lightened his voice.
He turned his palm to hold her hand. “Promise me. I can’t wait another fucking year to know if they kept their word to you.” He shifted his gaze away from the road. His hazel eyes were full of anguish.
“I promise,” she whispered, meaning it.
He brought his focus back to the road, lifted their joined hands, and kissed her thumb. “Good. You can bail on the CIA then.”
She bit back the urge to argue. Right now, she had to let him believe it’d be that simple. But the plan was good... if they only had to separate for a day or two, that’d make this a whole lot easier on her heart. “If things go well with you and Silas, then yes.” Several beats passed. “Do you think everything is okay with Cole? You seem worried.”
He shrugged, the corner of his eye scrunching. “Not worried. I’ve gone a hell of a lot longer without hearing back from him. But it’s weird because he’s helping me with something. He wouldn’t just—”
Crash!
Glass erupted. Gemma’s body slammed into the door. She screamed as fear seized her spine. Dallas’s arm pressed against her chest, holding her in place, but the vehicle that collided with Dallas’s door was ramming them toward the edge of the road. Terror screeched inside her head. The scraping of metal on metal split her eardrums.
“Hold on!” Dallas yelled.
The car caught the edge of the shoulder and tilted into the ditch. The vehicle hitting them reversed then gunned forward.
Crash!
Dallas flung his body over hers, anchoring her to the seat at the moment of impact. Her head bounced against the window. The car hurtled down the ditch, rolling once, twice. Gemma tensed and held the door and Dallas as he jostled on top of her. They landed upside down with a sharp smack. Dallas’s head slammed against the dash.
Panic stretched her veins and her heart raced as she gripped Dallas’s arm. It was limp. “Dallas!” The movement made her head spin.
Her legs dangled. Blood rushed to her face. The seatbelt cut into her hips and chest, constricting her lungs.
Dallas’s arms swayed. His chin rested on his chest and his legs were squeezed underneath the steering wheel.
Oh god. Oh god.
Someone had driven them off the road. They’d been found—either by Silas or someone else who wanted to collect the reward money for her death. Her heart pumped frantically. She needed to get them out. Whoever had just tried to kill them was going to make sure to finish the job.
She twisted in her seat and reached for the buckle. If she released it, she’d fall headfirst to the roof of the car. She needed to position herself properly first. If she hung out like a damn bat, she’d end up with a bullet in her head.
Slam!
The sound of a car door shutting reached her ears—their killer.
“Dallas!” she hissed, seizing his shoulder and shaking it violently. “Dallas, you need to wake up!”
Blood dripped from his forehead. Her stomach twisted and tears soaked her cheeks. He’d hit his head. Without medical attention he could die. At the very least he had a concussion, and if she didn’t get him out of the car and right side up, the damage could be devastating.
Hang on, Dallas.
The crunch of boots on gravel came next. All the moisture left her mouth. A scream swelled in the back of her throat, but she gulped it down.
She had to get them out of here.
She pressed the button on the buckle, but it didn’t budge. She gasped and tried again. There was too much pressure bearing down on the belt. She had to relieve some of the weight, but dammit, she didn’t have time to wrestle with the seatbelt.
Stretching forward and straining against the tight belt, she groped for the glove box and hit the button. The door sprang open, and the glove box’s contents spilled into her open hand—an array of papers and trash... and a knife.
Not ideal. She needed a gun, but the only one in the vehicle was in Dallas’s possession. If she had time to get herself down safely, she could probably retrieve the gun from behind his back. But the last thing she wanted to do was signal to their pursuer that they were alive. The footsteps moved quicker.
Determined.
Gemma lifted the weapon to her chest. The blade wobbled in her grip and her breath hitched on every rapid inhale.
She glanced toward Dallas’s window. It had been blown out, just like hers. Booted feet stomped slowly around the car. She moved her tongue around the torrid cavern of her mouth. Sweat dotted her skin and dampened her palms. The only way she could protect herself with the knife was if the man got close enough for her to stab him. Which was unlikely. He’d probably just aim and shoot.
The boots stopped at her window. The man crouched, getting low enough to reveal a light-blue T-shirt. His hand rested on his knee. In his palm was a gun. “I can hear you breathing.” His laugh prickled her skin.
She squeezed her eyes together, anticipating the bullet that would enter her skull at any minute.
“Maybe if you come out nicely, I won’t shoot your friend.” The thick Spanish accent held contempt. “Nah, that’s a lie.” An arm snaked into the vehicle, and long, rough fingers crawled across her lap in search of the buckle.
Vomit hit Gemma’s palate. She slashed the knife across his forearm. Blood oozed from the wound.
“Fuck!” He yanked his hand out of reach. “Bitch!” He lunged back into the vehicle, his eyes blazing fire and his face beet red. His fingers gripped her seatbelt buckle. “I’ll carve up your fucking face for that—”
Crack! Crack!
The man’s fingers loosened and his eyes turned wide and glassy. Two red spots bloomed from his torso. He slumped to the ground.
Gemma screamed. She kicked and flailed as if doing so would help her run from whoever was out there trying to kill them. Hysteria seized all rational thoughts. Her throat rasped as another cry ripped out.
“Gemma!” A rough hand bit into her bicep.
She stopped fighting and lowered her gaze to the masculine hand covering her skin. Streaks of blood covered his knuckles. She jerked her misty eyes to Dallas’s face. His stare was hazy, and his body still hung in the seat. Sweat mingled with dirt and debris along his hairline.
“Dallas. Oh my god.” Her voice broke, and she clutched his hand. “You were unconscious. I thought...”
She glanced down at the dead body lying halfway inside her window. Shot. Had Dallas not woken and killed him, she’d be dead... or at least forcefully removed from the vehicle for the man to butcher.
“We need to get out of here.” He passed her the gun. “Gimme the knife.”
She lifted her shaking hand and passed it to him. He braced his legs on the dash and sawed through the seatbelt holding him in place. He kept one hand on the roof of the car to prevent him from landing flat on his head. Gingerly, he maneuvered through the tight space until he was kneeling on the ground.
“I could cut through your seatbelt too, but releasing it will be easier. Brace your knees on me and push your weight into the seat.”
Nodding, she placed her knees on his shoulders and pushed herself back. Dallas put the handle of the knife into his mouth then used one hand to secure her hips, pressing her back even further. His free hand hit the red button and the belt retracted.
All the pressure that had been binding her chest and abdomen released. She exhaled, and gravity pulled her body downward. Dallas’s hands caught her ribcage, breaking her fall. She curled her legs away from his shoulders, letting him hold her until she got her footing on the roof of the car beside him.
He took the knife from his mouth then gestured to his window. “We’ll have to get out that way one at a time because of fuckface in the way.”
She didn’t look at the dead man again. Instead, she swallowed. “Do you think there’re more people out there?”
“Only one way to find out.” He took the gun from her and handed her the knife. “Don’t crawl out until I clear the area first. Once you’re free, we need to move fast.”
“Okay.”
He got down on his elbows, pushed his head through the slightly crunched window space, and slithered through. His feet disappeared from sight.
Anxiety twanged in her chest. She propped her hand on the dash and lowered herself to her belly so she’d be ready to army crawl the hell out of there when he gave the signal. She wiped her arm over her forehead, mopping up sweat, tears, blood, and whatever else away from her eyes.
Breathe, Gemma. Breathe.
They’d almost died. She’d almost died. But she hadn’t. And she had to lower her cortisol levels and put one foot in front of the other or she’d be no good to anyone.
A scuffling of boots against rock sounded and Dallas poked his head through the window. “All clear.” He extended his hand.
She placed her hand in his and he guided her through the hole. Dust from the gravel kicked up into her face as Dallas pulled her out. She squeezed her eyes shut and coughed, pushing herself to her knees.
Dallas took the knife from her hand and folded it closed. “Hang on to this.” He slapped it back into her palm, cupped her under the armpits, and heaved her to her feet. His fingers went straight to her cheeks, smoothing away dirt and god knew what else. “You okay?”
She nodded. “Fine. I’m not the one with a concussion.”
Blood still ran in a steady stream down the side of Dallas’s face. Despite the urgency of their situation, she needed to inspect his injury. He’d been unconscious for several minutes and the dangers of that made her pulse slow.
“I’ve been hit worse.” He used his sleeve to wipe away the blood. “We’ll have to make a run through the bush—”
She held up her hand. “Uh-uh. Been there, done that. We’ve got his ride,” she said, nodding at the huge truck that had nearly been their demise.
He scoffed. “His friends will be looking for it.”
“Not yet,” she countered. “We can use it until we can find something else.”
He swallowed. “All right. I guess we don’t have far to go.” Dallas rounded the vehicle to where the body lay.
Gemma kept her distance but watched as Dallas methodically patted down their assailant. He confiscated a gun and stomped on a cell phone. “Keys must be in the vehicle still.”
He returned to her side and took hold of her elbow. They climbed the steep ditch. The truck had been parked so it didn’t appear as though it’d rammed them off the road but instead had pulled over to check on them.
She got in the passenger seat. Sure enough, the keys were still dangling from the ignition. Dallas adjusted his seat and started the truck. It revved to life and he shifted into drive.
He sent her a long look. Pain and angst tightened his features, making his jaw look angry. Maybe his fury was directed at the assholes who wouldn’t stop trying to kill them—or maybe he was mad at her. “You’d better call your agent friend. Let her know you’ll be late.” His tone was terse. Resentful, even.
Gemma pressed the seatbelt into place and her stomach bunched with regret.
That glare had been for her.
But he didn’t realize she was more upset with herself than he could ever be with her.