Chapter 28
CHAPTER 28
A drenaline screeched through Dana’s system. He was getting closer. If she didn’t make a run for it, he’d find her. Fire shot from her pinky as her bound hands pressed against the rough tree bark. Forcing the pain away with an uneven breath, she inched her face toward the edge of the tree and locked her gaze on Drake.
He moved like Lurch, every step painfully slow and his hand flat against the wound beneath his arm. His fingers clung to the gun hanging at his side. He wasn’t far, maybe forty feet. If she could make it to the ravine before he noticed her, she’d be out of sight before he could get off a shot.
The last thing she wanted to do was give up the security of the tree at her back, but there was no helping it. It was run or be found.
She swallowed, but no saliva went down. Only the sandy texture of fear clung to the insides of her throat. Locking her focus on the ravine, she rose to shaking feet, bent forward to keep her head low, and ran.
The ravine came into view, and she squeezed through bushes. Twigs snapped beneath her feet, screaming with traitorous voices.
Crack , crack!
The deafening blast of gunfire screeched past her ears. Heat singed her arm like a hot poker scraping against her flesh. She cried out and fell on her ass. She slid down the ravine and landed on her back at the bottom.
The sky spun, and her senses fizzled in and out of clarity. Her skin throbbed, and the nerves in her arm spit fire.
Get up, get up!
The insistent voice rushed forth from her subconscious, driving her to a sitting position. She gasped and sputtered as pain licked her flesh from the inside out. Blood trickled down her arm, but she didn’t try to inspect the wound for fear she’d pass out.
She teetered down the ravine. She couldn’t climb the other side of the slope. With her arms behind her it’d be an impossible feat. All she could do was find cover and pray someone found her.
A whistle sounded overhead.
Dana froze. Ice spread from the base of her spine to her neck. She lifted her gaze to the top of the ravine. Two men, guys she’d never seen before, stood above her.
Relief made her choke out a sob. “Help! Please. There’s a shooter!”
One of the men smiled and said, “Sure, honey. We’ll give ya a hand. Ain’t nothin’ to worry ’bout now.” He skidded down the hill.
The first guy snickered and followed his friend.
Trepidation seized Dana. Something was wrong.
They weren’t concerned about a possible shooter. Didn’t seem surprised about finding her either. All the moisture left her mouth, and she retreated a step, then two.
Her gaze fell to the men’s hands. They had guns.
Dana turned and ran, panic nipping at her heels. Their laughter boomed through the forest. Her feet squelched in the damp earth, every footstep sucking her down as she sprinted. The acrid taste of fear eroded her tongue.
The men hooted and called as she fled. Bastards knew she had nowhere to go, knew she couldn’t climb, knew they’d outrun her. Still, she didn’t stop. She’d fight until a bullet entered her head.
Tears ran down her cheeks, mixing with debris and strands of hair. Their footsteps grew louder and louder behind her.
Her toe caught a rock and she flew forward, her stomach landing hard on the ground. The wind coughed from her lungs, and pain exploded across her chest and back. The men cackled, their laughter rolling off the hill .
Combat boots appeared in her vision, and one of the men squatted and moved her hair from her face. If his fingers had been closer, she’d have bitten them off.
She stared into his hard, cold face. He smirked, the smile barely reaching his chalky brown eyes. “Too bad they wanna get rid of such a pretty thing.”
“Fuck you,” she spat.
His friend guffawed.
The guy’s smile fell. “Shut up, Smith.” He got to his feet and caught her around the biceps, hauling her upright. The world tilted, and Dana’s footing faltered. Too many falls and blows to the head had her equilibrium slipping.
“Come on. We’re goin’ for a little walk.” He turned her toward the incline of the ravine, and her legs turned to mush.
She sank to the ground. Even if she had more stamina, she wouldn’t willingly walk to her execution. She’d make every minute of her murder grueling for them—and spread as much of her DNA as possible.
Smith mumbled something derisive. The other guy yanked her up again, this time with less care, and tossed her over his shoulder. His hard muscle dug into her stomach, but with her arms still behind her, she had no way to lessen the weight on her diaphragm.
He climbed the hill. The sharp incline made her tip farther toward the ground, but he didn’t fall. When they reached the top, he dropped her to her feet. “Walk,” he ordered.
“Maybe you shouldn’t have shot me,” she retorted. The pain in her arm had faded to a bone-crushing throb. She suspected shock had something to do with the lessening of the pain, as the hot liquid trickling down to her fingers told her she was bleeding a lot.
He jammed his fingers into her spine, and she staggered forward. “It wasn’t a kill shot. Looks like you tore off a chunk of skin from a branch.”
She fought the dizziness closing in around her. “Any decent medical examiner will know that’s from a bullet.”
He chuckled. “You think the people who hired me haven’t greased the pockets of your future examiner? Come on now.”
Her skin turned clammy. He’d all but admitted the government was behind this. Just peachy. The odds of her surviving a government assassin—make that three—were zero.
“Falls are up ahead, Sharp,” Smith said.
Dana swallowed a cry. The taste of fear in her mouth was foul. Her brain started to shut down, her movements on autopilot and her muscles weak. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. “You don’t have to do this.” She spoke the pleading, desperate words knowing they wouldn’t do a damn thing .
But she had to try.
The men said nothing, as if her voice were no louder than a mosquito’s wings.
“You can just let me go here. I’ll find my way. No one has to know.” The tears flowed freely now, and her words appeared to be weaving a fairy tale. The rush of the waterfall grew louder, almost deafening.
Sharp grunted. “Lady, this ain’t personal. It’s a job. We’ll make it quick if you just shut up.”
Fury spread heat to her cheeks. She stopped in her tracks and pivoted.
Smith jerked back so he didn’t bang into her, and Sharp glared with annoyance.
“No. I won’t shut up. You can’t do this! You won’t get away with it.”
Smith snorted, and Sharp gave her a sympathetic grin. “Already have.” He caught her elbow and steered her around. “Lead the way,” he called to Smith.
Smith moved in front and stalked down the sloped trail. Dana sent a gaze toward the woods, willing someone, anyone, to appear. “What happened to Drake?” If she got away, she needed to know who to look out for.
“He, uh, hurt himself on the trail. Real unfortunate.”
Smith let out a trill of laughter.
Dana ran her tongue over her chapped lips. Drake was a monster and deserved his fate. But the fact that they’d killed one of their own didn’t bode well for her. With no moisture left in her body, she almost ripped off a layer of skin. Drake was gone, which meant she had only these two jerks to escape.
They didn’t want to shoot her. That’d make things too difficult to cover up. She darted her gaze to the left then to the right. There was a steep drop-off on her left. She couldn’t even see where it ended. But the ground on her right sloped gently into a thicket of bushes. That was her best shot.
As they got closer to the bottom of the path, it pitched at a sharper angle. Dana allowed her pace to pick up and stomped on Smith’s heel. He careened forward several steps, caught himself on a tree, and turned to lunge at her. “You—”
She slammed her shoulder into his. He wheeled his free arm backward as he teetered on the edge of the drop-off.
Sharp lunged for him.
Excitement electrified her limbs. She broke free of her captor’s hold and ran off the trail to the right, breaking through the bushes.
“Goddammit!” one of the men hollered.
Ragged cries tore from her throat as her feet grew wings. She ran through the bushes at top speed, thorns and branches attacking her arms and face, cutting any exposed skin they could find.
She pushed harder.
Sprinting down the hill, Dana let out a scream from the depths of her soul.
***
Zain raced with everything in him. He ignored the sweat pouring off his face, relished the burn of his muscles. Leaping over fallen logs and tree roots, he ran toward the sound of the gunshot as if his life fucking depended on it—because it did.
It’d been about five minutes since he heard the gun go off. Jesus, he’d better be running in the right direction.
Taschen’s voice crackled in his ear.
“What was that?” Zain huffed, the words broken with exertion. “I’m close. They can’t be far.”
“I found a body. Looks like our guy Drake. He’s dead. His skull was bashed in with a rock.”
One asshole down. But right now, all that mattered was getting to the bastard who’d fired the—
A scream shook the forest. The bloodcurdling cry made Zain’s hair stand on end. He skidded to a stop, chest pumping, as he tried to decipher the direction the cry had come from.
“Holy shit, that was Dana!” Taschen shouted in his ear. “Did you hear that?”
“Yeah,” he gasped.
Hope set his shoulders in a determined line as he veered a little more north. She was alive. Had they missed her with the first gunshot? He’d never prayed for anything so hard in his life. Come on, babe, scream again for me .
“I don’t think I’m far either. Micha’s freaking out. I’m going to let her loose.”
“Do it.” Zain came to a sharp ravine and stopped at the top. His pulse beat fiercely in his ears, conspiring against him. He scanned down to the center of the ravine, and footsteps in the mud caught his eye. He slid down the slope, rushing to the shoe tracks. “I’ve got prints,” he said. He followed them, and eventually, one of the three sets of tracks disappeared.
“Have you reached the ravine?” he asked Taschen, when he got to the top.
“Yup, just went around it.”
“Good.”
He strained his ears as he followed the muddy footprints, which were becoming harder and harder to decipher on the trail. The path sloped down, and the gushing of the waterfall told him it’d be near the bottom. Only the prints stopped. All of them.
He scanned the ground, but other than skid marks moving toward a tree to his left, there was nothing. Had she fallen?
His heart galloped in his chest as he leaned over the ledge that dropped a good fifty feet. Branches and sharp rocks jutted out, but there was nobody to be seen.
Summoning a deep breath, he cupped his hands over his mouth. “Dana!” He didn’t give a damn if a whole army came after him. Let them come .
If Dana was alive, she needed to know he was here.
Silence.
“Dana!” he bellowed again, at the top of his lungs.
“Real subtle, dude,” Taschen said dryly in his ear.
“If you’ve got a better—”
“Zain!” Dana’s desperate voice reverberated through the trees. He broke into a run, heading toward a thicket of bushes and charging right through. Twigs clawed at him, but he barreled down the slope at a breakneck pace.
He needed another scream. One more, baby. Come on.
***
Thud!
Dana’s assailant slammed into her back. She went flying forward, landing on her chest. Stars blipped in front of her vision. Weakness crept over her, muffling the angry sounds disturbing the air.
But she’d heard her name. Right before the jerk had taken her to the ground, she’d heard a man scream.
Zain.
She had to be delirious. There was no way he’d found her. No way she was on the cusp of rescue. But her heart’s knowledge was stronger than her doubt .
Zain, I’m here. I’m alive! I knew you’d come for me.
Rough hands seized her shoulders and rolled her onto her back.
Her head lolled, and her consciousness slipped from her fingers like dust in a windstorm. A menacing face glared down at her. Sharp. The flash of a gun caught her eye, and her saliva turned to acid.
She opened her mouth to scream, but his palm slammed over her lips.
“This won’t look like an accident,” Smith cautioned his colleague.
Dana kicked—his shins, his thighs, his groin. Her captor didn’t even flinch. He shoved his knee into her stomach, anchoring her in place as he said something unintelligible to Smith. The gun hovered inches from her temple.
This was her only shot.
She chomped down. Her teeth sunk into the meaty tissue of his palm. She locked her jaw as he howled. He jerked his hand away, and the metallic taste of blood coated her tongue. She threw back her head.
“Zain!” she bellowed, using the power of her diaphragm. Her vocal chords shook.
Using all her strength, she pulled her knee to her chest and jammed her foot between his legs. Her shoe connected with the man’s junk, and he careened back. Dana kicked free, but with her arms behind her back she couldn’t get up. Smith grabbed her.
He held her down on her knees, his fingers biting into her biceps. “Fucking shoot the bitch already!” he yelled.
Sharp brought the gun to her head. Dana stared down the barrel of the weapon. Her surroundings faded away. Tunnel vision allowed only the sight of the tiny hole that’d take her life any minute.
This was it. There was nothing she could do. A sob escaped her. Her mouth filled with the salty taste of her tears, and anguish twisted her heart. She closed her eyes. Zain’s name was like a prayer on her lips.
Crack!
The blast of the gun jolted her body. Dana screamed, the sound shaking her core. Her lips trembled as the wail of terror pulled itself from her chest.
But she wasn’t dead.
She opened her eyes to see Sharp fall to the ground. Blood trickled from the left side of his head, where a huge chunk of his skull was missing. Vacant eyes stared at Dana as he landed in the dirt.
“Fuck.” Smith yanked her to her feet. He held one arm across her chest, covering his front with her back.
Dana’s head swam, and her legs wobbled beneath her. If it weren’t for Smith using her as a shield, she’d crumple to the ground. He withdrew a gun and pressed it against her head. The cool, hard steel ground against her sensitive skin.
Movement on the hill made her lift her gaze. Zain came down swiftly, a gun held confidently in his muscled hands, his shoulders so wide and rigid her mouth went dry. She blinked, but he didn’t disappear. Didn’t fade into her imagination. “Zain!” she choked, needing to say his name, to make his presence stronger.
His golden eyes landed on her, and a red tint crept across his cheekbones. “Let her go!” he bellowed.
Smith retreated. Each step dragged her further and further from Zain. “Put your gun down and I won’t shoot her.”
Zain didn’t move and didn’t lower his weapon. “I said let her go,” he commanded, his tone deadly.
Smith’s arm holding the gun shook. “Back up or—”
A vicious snarl came from her left. Something slammed into Smith, and the weapon dropped away from Dana. She fell to the ground and immediately scooted away. A dog—Micha!—was tearing at Smith’s arm.
Smith screamed, and a gun went off.
Dana clapped her hands over her ears. Micha whined and skirted to Dana’s side. Blood pooled on Smith’s chest.
Warm, strong hands scooped her up. Zain’s scent, warm and masculine, pine and spice, filled her nostrils.
She buried her face in the security of his neck. Tears ran down her cheeks, but these were different. Their taste didn’t fill her with horror. Their sting was filled with gratitude instead of violent fear. “Oh my god. How?” was all she could muster.
His hand, so large and firm, cradled the back of her head. “It’s okay. I’m here. It’s over.” His voice trembled as if he spoke the words more to convince himself than her. “Goddammit, your hands.” He cursed again and unsheathed his knife. She watched as the blade disappeared behind her back.
A second later, he gently pulled off the duct tape and her fingers tingled as though millions of little nails were stabbing her skin. She rolled her shoulders. Zain held her against his chest and massaged her wrists and forearms until the burning sensation eased.
He pulled back a few inches, and his eyes probed her face. His hands traced her body. “You’re bleeding.”
She couldn’t respond. A sob tore from her throat, and her lips trembled. Concern flashed across his face. Taschen was there, hovering close.
Zain quickly seized her arm. “She’s bleeding a lot,” he said to Taschen.
In seconds, her brother had cut off a large strip of his shirt and wrapped it tightly around the wound. She hissed as he knotted the material, but the pressure took away the sting.
“We should call a helicopter.” Zain’s grave, worry-lined statement made her immediately shake her head.
“No. I’m o-okay.”
“It’ll probably be faster if we get on the move now,” Taschen said. “I’ll get ahold of Rami and call for an ambulance.”
Zain’s arms enveloped her. “I’m going to check you for more injuries. I think you’re in shock.” The strong, gritty rumble of his words soothed the constriction around her heart, but nothing he could say would be better than him holding her.
His fingers moved along her spine then her neck and around her head. The examination was similar to the one he’d conducted on the plane.
Taschen’s voice sounded in the background. Authority coated his words as he spoke to whoever was on the phone.
Zain pulled back and ran his thumb over her cheekbone. “They hit you?”
She nodded. “Yeah. A few times. And I f-fell. I’m fine. Just, my head is pounding.”
He touched her lip, and she winced. “Hit you there too.” His mouth slashed into an angry line. “Motherfucker.”
She caught his wrist. “I’ll live. And you already took care of them.”
He turned over her hand and touched her pinkie. Somehow the make-shift bandage was still intact. As soon as her attention fell on the appendage, it throbbed. “He—” She wet her lips. “My fingernail.”
Zain cursed a blue streak and reached to undo the material she’d wrapped around it.
“Don’t. It’s okay. It’s just a nail.”
“They fucking hurt you,” he spat. Despair contorted his face. “I’m so fucking sorry, Dana.” Moisture collected at the corners of his eyes, and the sight of his pain undid her.
She threw herself at his chest. “You saved me. You’re everything to me, Zain,” she whispered. “Knowing you’d come for me... that’s what made me fight.”
He caught her chin, tilting her head a fraction, and his eyes ensnared hers. “No, you’re alive because you’re you. Because you’re smart and courageous... And god, I love you.”
She pressed her palm against his cheek, and appreciation soared inside her. He’d done everything for her. Had fought for her when she was a prisoner, had risked his career and reputation to keep her safe.
The emotions inside her were like water in an overflowing glass. She couldn’t contain them but also couldn’t verbalize exactly what was in her heart. It was too big for words. Too big to hold down. “I love you too.”
Zain gently swiped his thumb beneath her eye. His lips pressed against her forehead. “Let’s get you home.”
A minute later, her brother’s hand touched her back. “Sis.” The simple nickname transported her through time. To a place where Taschen had scared off boys and beat up bullies. Her first protector. She threw her arms around his neck, and he tucked his face into her hair.
“Thank god you’re okay,” he wheezed.
Locking her gaze on Zain over her brother’s shoulder, she smiled. “I am now.”
And she would be.