Chapter 2
Marta wrapped her arms around the man who’d rescued her from the laboratory, closed her eyes and held her breath as wind lifted her hair around her face and the helicopter plunged earthward.
If she were to die, at least she’d die in the arms of a muscular man who, according to him, was one of the good guys.
After what she’d been forced to create, she couldn’t ask for a better end to her life.
The rest of the world might still suffer for what she’d concocted, but she’d be dead in the strong arms of a stranger.
Guilt gnawed at her gut. She couldn’t die.
Not when the world hung in the balance of the results of her work.
The increasing downward trajectory of the aircraft slowed, lifted for a moment and then slammed into the hard surface of the earth, jolting Marta so hard her head smacked into Jack’s.
Stars spun, clouding her vision. Was this it?
Was she dead? She let go, accepting the end as what she deserved, embracing the abyss of death.
“Marta!” a voice shouted, bringing her back to the acrid stench of aviation fuel, stinging her nostrils.
Hands gripped her shoulders, shaking her hard. “Marta! Stay with me. We have to get out. Now!”
Marta opened her eyes to stare up into the blue eyes of a stranger. Was he a stranger or an angel, sent to right the wrongs she’d been forced to create? “No,” she whispered. “Let me die.”
The angel’s eyes narrowed, his mouth forming a straight line. “Not on my watch.” His hands tugged at the restraints holding her down. Suddenly, she was free—only to be pulled into the angel’s arms and dragged out into the heat and humidity of the jungle.
Just when she thought her nightmare couldn’t get more bizarre, the angel flung her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and ran into that jungle, her head banging against his backside, leaves and branches swatting at her face, making her close her eyes to keep from losing one.
They hadn’t gone far when an explosion sent them flying forward.
Marta landed hard, the angel landing on top of her, knocking the air from her lungs. For a moment longer than she could handle, she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t draw in air to fill her lungs. Then the angel crushing her body rose on his arms and stared down into her face.
“Hey, talk to me,” he said, his tone low, resonant, thick as molasses and just as rich and smooth. “Marta. Breathe.”
Marta gasped and dragged air into her starving lungs. “Holy hell,” she wheezed upon releasing the breath. “Are we alive?”
The angel grinned, his blue eyes twinkling. “We are.” His brow dipped. “I can’t say the same for the pilot.” He glanced over his shoulder as if continuing to lie in a prone position over her was natural. “The helicopter exploded.”
Weight that had nothing to do with the man hovering over her settled onto Marta’s chest. “The pilot? He’s dead?”
Crusher, that’s what he’d said his name was, nodded. “I think he wasn’t going to make it anyway. He must have taken a hit from the explosion that killed the engine.”
A tear slipped from the corner of Marta’s eye. “Because of me,” she whispered. “He died because of me.”
“You didn’t launch the rocket,” Crusher said. “It’s not your fault.”
“He died trying to rescue me.” She shook her head, closed her eyes and let more tears slip from the corners. She raised her eyelids and stared up into Crusher’s gaze. “Leave me here. Get away from me.”
He shook his head. “Can’t,” he said. “My job is to get you to Miami. We’re still in Colombia without a helicopter to get us to the jet that should have gotten us to Miami today. We’re moving on to Plan B.”
She frowned up at him, her head still a little fuzzy from the crash landing.
Crash landing?
Holy hell. She’d survived a crash landing?
Marta tried to sit up.
A hand behind her back helped her into a sitting position. “Do you think you can stand?” Crusher asked.
“I can’t very well sit here for any length of time,” she snapped, her vision blurring as she came to an upright position. Immediately, she leaned into the hand pressed against her back. “Then again...”
He laid her back against the ground. “I’d give you all the time to come to your senses, but the people who fired the rocket at our helicopter will be here soon. We need to move before they arrive.”
Marta nodded. “I’m okay,” she lied and pushed up onto her elbows, her head swimming. She fought back the gray fog threatening to suck her back into the darkness. “Although I might need a hand getting to my feet.”
Before she could collect her thoughts, the man who’d been leaning over her rose, gripped her hand and hauled her to her feet.
Her knees buckled, and she sank toward the ground.
Strong arms encircled her waist and drew her up against a solid wall of muscles, clamping her body against his.
Her arm automatically clung to his taut waist to steady herself. Without his arm around her, she couldn’t have held her own.
“We can only give it another couple of seconds for your head to clear.” Crusher glanced over his shoulder at the smoldering wreckage. “If you can’t run, I’ll carry you. Either way, we need to move out. The men in that truck will easily follow the smoke.”
Marta shook her head to clear the gray haze and squared her shoulders. “Then, let’s go.”
The man’s brow furrowed as he stared down into her eyes. “You sure?”
“Does it matter if I’m sure? Staying here means confronting men with a rocket launcher and other deadly weapons.
” Marta shook her head. “I’ll take my chances in the jungle.
” Although the dense foliage and dark shadows beneath the towering canopy didn’t inspire confidence, she pushed back her trepidation.
She hurried alongside the man who’d freed her from the handcuffs and the compound in which she’d spent the last six weeks without access to sunshine or freedom.
As they slipped into the shadows, Crusher cast one more glance behind them.
“Duck down,” he whispered, his jaw tight, his hand on her back urging her lower.
“They found the wreckage.” He didn’t slow but kept moving through the underbrush, putting distance between themselves and the people who’d shot them out of the sky.
Shouts sounded behind them.
“We need to move faster,” Crusher said. “Are you up to it?”
“If I want to live, I am,” she murmured and picked up her pace.
Marta had no idea where they were going.
For all she knew, they could be running in circles and might end up right back at the crash site.
Though she’d wished she’d died in the helicopter crash, she knew that would have been the worst possible scenario.
If she’d died, the world population could face extinction.
Freed of her captors, it was her responsibility to stop that from happening.
So, she ran. Despite utter exhaustion from all-nighters conducting experiments, assessing and adjusting, she pushed on.
Heat and humidity pressed down on her like a heavy weight, clutching at her legs, driving into her skull and soaking her clothing with sweat.
By the time they reached a stream, she was ready to fall face-first into the water.
The scientist in her knew the hazards of drinking unfiltered water, but she was so thirsty, and the water appeared clear and cool.
She stumbled and let herself fall to her knees beside the creek, tempted beyond reason to reach out, scoop up a handful of water and slake her thirst.
A hand descended on her shoulder and gently squeezed. “Don’t drink it,” Crusher said, his voice gentle, almost apologetic. “It looks clean, but you don’t know what parasites might live in it.”
“I know that,” she said, wrapping her hands around her legs. She drew in a deep breath and let it out. The muscles in her calves, thighs and hips were screaming at her first workout she’d had since arriving in Colombia six weeks ago. “Do you think they’re still following us?”
Crusher cocked his head. For a long moment, he listened.
Marta listened as well, hearing nothing but the call of birds in the trees and insects buzzing around her face.
Finally, Crusher nodded. “I think we’re okay for now.”
Marta glanced around, hoping to see through the underbrush to a road, a house or any sign of civilization. She found nothing but more trees, bushes and underbrush. “Do you have any idea where we’re heading?”
He nodded. “Generally.” Crusher glanced at his watch and back up at the surrounding underbrush. “We should find a small town in another couple of clicks.”
“And how is that going to help us get out of this country?”
Crusher’s lips twitched. “We make a phone call, line up transportation, and the next thing you know, we’ll be back in Florida, you can go back to your daily life and I’ll move on to my next assignment.”
Marta tried to wrap her head around that news. Back in Florida? “Why Florida?” she asked. “I don’t live in Florida.”
“Our contact in the State Department will meet you there and get you somewhere safe.”
She shook her head. “I can’t stay in Florida. I need to follow my work. It’s a matter of life and death.”
Crusher frowned. “What exactly were you working on? Based on your dossier, I assume it has something to do with bioterrorism. You’re not creating the next black plague, are you?”