Blind Ambition (13 page)

Pins and needles burned her shoulders and arms, but she let out a huge sigh of relief as she moved her hands in front of her and rubbed her wrists.

“Give her the key,” Dan said.

The man tossed a key ring toward her so that it landed at her knees with a loud
ching
. She picked it up and scurried behind Dan to unlock him. “Now what?” she asked as she removed the cuffs from his red, swollen wrists.

She frowned at the sight. If only she had her first aid kit.

“We’re going to lock up these two.” Now that his arms were free, Dan shifted the rifle to one hand and twisted his body to face the men so he could hold the weapon on them with both hands.

He motioned the men toward her abandoned shackles and told them to lock up so they were facing opposite directions. When they were done, he checked to ensure they were secure and waved to Alexa. “Let’s go.” He released the rifle’s clip, checked it and shoved it back in again.

She glanced at the three guards. “What if they make noise and draw the others?”

Dan looked her in the eye. “I didn’t think you’d want me to knock them out. I’d have to hit them pretty hard to do it.”

“They changed the rules when they killed Garfield.” And took her hostage, and stole the children. “Do whatever you think is best.”

He removed the guards’ socks and hastily stuffed them into their mouths. She wasn’t surprised. Despite his earlier words about taking them all out—which he might have done if his hand was forced—Dan had always been about helping people, not hurting them.

She moved onto the steps and he swung the door shut behind him, locking it with one of the keys from the ring Polo Man had given her. At the bottom of the stairs, Dan scooped up two rifles from the ground where the now-captive guards had left them, and handed one to her. “Do you know how to use this?”

“No.”

“Damn,” he muttered under his breath. Then he grabbed the rifle, flicked a switch on the side and gave it back. “I put the safety on so you won’t kill one of us with it. Just strap it over your shoulder so it won’t get in your way.”

She did as he asked, despite the ickiness that stole over her at the feel of the heavy weapon against her back. She wanted nothing to do with it.

“Hey!” The voice echoed across the small courtyard. “Stop!”

Dan grabbed her hand and dragged her in front of him before giving her a small push toward the forest.
“Run.”

DAN COVERED ALEXA’S RETREAT, BUT no one shot at them. Apparently they still wanted her alive.

He dropped one of the rifles—the two of them banging together as he ran made too much noise—then swore under his breath as he reached the trees. Alexa was like a walking lighthouse in that white T-shirt. He probably wasn’t much better, mostly naked as he was.

Sticks and rocks ravaged his bare feet, but he kept running. Both of them were going to suffer for this, but it beat being tied up waiting for God knew what to happen.

Catching up with Alexa, he urged her to arc to the left, parallel to the camp. The soldiers would be up and looking for them now, but hopefully they wouldn’t expect their escapees to circle back. All Dan and Alexa needed was some camouflage so they could wait it out. He might have training and experience in escape and evasion, but these men had the home field advantage. They’d been hiding out in this jungle for years.

He herded her into a thick clump of ferns and banana palms, using the broad leaves as concealment, but he was still afraid they stood out too much. Even if he had her take off the shirt, her pale skin wouldn’t be much better.

And her being covered was better for both of them right now.

The weather decided to cooperate at that moment, providing them with one of St. Isidore’s frequent, random rain showers. The rain would slow down the guards and make it harder for them to see or hear.

Dan and Alexa huddled beneath the cover of the plants, largely protected from the deluge, curled tightly around their knees, aiming for minimum visibility.

“Are you okay?” he whispered, barely able to see her in the dark space, but acutely aware of her—the warmth of her body along his left side, her harsh breaths as she recovered from their flight.

“Fine.” She sounded pissed. Was she mad they’d left the kids behind?

The rain drummed the forest around them, blocking out all noise but that within their cocoon. Water streamed through the leaves, running along Dan’s scalp and down his back, a cold tickling on his spine.

“What now?” Alexa’s breath on his ear sparked something inside him, sending heat curling through his body like smoke.

He mentally shook it off before replying. “We stay here until the rain stops. Then we’ll see.”

Rain in St. Isidore didn’t usually last long, though it could be a good twenty minutes. He was accustomed to waiting. Had spent hours, hell, days even, waiting and watching and calculating his next move.

But never with Alexa by his side, short-circuiting his concentration.

He focused on the world outside their hide, simultaneously running scenarios in his head. She was right about the children. If the two of them left now, there was a definite chance that Petitt would move the kids before Dan could return for them. And this time, he might not be able to find them before it was too late.

But how the hell was he going to exfiltrate eight kids—many of them babies or toddlers—under the noses of the rebels? Unless he could incapacitate the whole contingent of soldiers at once, he’d be putting Alexa, himself, and the children at risk.

He spent ten minutes going in mental circles before the rain stopped as abruptly as it had started. He held still for several moments, listening for their hunters.

The only things making sounds were frogs and bugs. “We need to mud up,” he said. “You’re bright as a flare in the dark, and I’m probably not much better.”

He reached down into the muck and began smearing it on his face, neck, and torso. The wet, cold earth smelled faintly of decayed leaves and the rich, black potting soil his grandmother used for her container garden. Alexa followed his lead, slathering mud on her face and arms.

Turning toward her, he asked, “Did I miss anything?”

“Yes.” Before he could react, she reached out and curled her muddy fingers around his ears and ran her palms down the sides of his neck.

He stifled a groan as a jolt of desire went straight to his groin.

“And here.” Her thumb stroked across his collarbone.

A shudder ran through him, and he caught her hand. “Okay,” he bit out. “Thanks.” He let her go and she dropped her arm.

“What about me?”

What about her? He wanted to lay her down on the wet ground and use his hands to cover her from head to toe. He wanted to be as thorough as possible.

Instead, he scooped up some mud in his palms. “Your hair is too shiny.” He dropped the slop on her head and used his fingers to smooth it down the length of her red-gold strands.

She inhaled sharply. From his touch, or the shock of cold?

“You did a good job on your skin”—her luscious, smooth skin—“but your shirt is still too white. Take it off.” He gripped the hem and tugged, far too eager to catch the glow of her stomach and shoulders in the pale moonlight that seeped between the leaves.

Taking control, she slipped the shirt over her head and pressed it into the mud, turning it silently several times before covering herself again. “Better?”

“Yeah.” Except that he was quickly losing his ability to focus on anything but her dark shape. “Just…” Before he could think it through he gripped her head and pulled her into a kiss.

Her mouth met his, equally hot and hungry as their bodies melted together. She stroked the back of his neck with one hand, the other pressing him between the shoulder blades as if to bring him closer. Not that they could get any closer. They were plastered together from head to knees, his erection hard as blue steel and pressing eagerly against her. As eagerly as she crushed her breasts to his chest.

It had always been like this with them. Nonstop desire, instant heat. Zero to sixty in two seconds flat.

Which was why he’d been so dumbstruck when she said she didn’t want to see him again. Of course, now he understood her reasons. Apparently, the attraction between them wasn’t enough to overcome whatever guilt she harbored over her sister.

He finally understood why—with the exception of that morning’s kiss in the surf, and this heated tangle of tongues and lips that he never wanted to end—she had been keeping him at arm’s length.

And nothing had changed. Which meant he had to stop what he was doing before they got carried away. Not to mention before they were found by the rebels out hunting them with rifles.
 

Jesus, what was he doing?

He ripped his mouth free and gently pushed her away, his heart pounding as he struggled for breath. “I…” What could he say? He wasn’t sorry. He’d been wanting to do that since he first saw her. His only regret was that it wouldn’t lead anywhere.

Well, that, and the fact that he’d completely lost his head when he should have been focused on the threat. Holy hell, if Kurt could see him now, he’d laugh his fucking head off. And then he’d tear Dan a new asshole for succumbing to the distraction.

Dan reached down to smear more mud on his body where it had rubbed off. Maybe the sludge would help him cool down too.
Fat chance.
“Fix your arms,” he whispered to Alexa. She just stared at him. “We need to get going.”

He had no way of knowing if the SIR fighters had passed them or not, but he was eager to get to one of their Jeeps before they all returned to camp. Civilization was too far for the two of them to walk barefoot, and they needed to move quickly.

She hesitated as her breathing slowed, probably confused by his sudden change in attitude. But he didn’t have the time or desire to figure out what was going on in his head where she was concerned, let alone to explain it to her.

“Okay,” she said.

When he was satisfied that they were both as invisible as possible, he took her hand and led her toward the coast. The mud was more forgiving on their feet than the ground had been before the rain, but it was also noisier. They had to step carefully to prevent sucking sounds when they walked.

Dan used the moon to guide him toward camp, skirting diagonally to the east so they wouldn’t re-enter too close to where they’d escaped. Not only that, Alexa had mentioned that the vehicles were parked on this side, close to the room where the orphans were locked up.

After twenty interminable minutes, they reached the eastern edge of the resort with no sign of the rebels beyond a few faint shouts to the southwest. Moonlight reflected off the windshields of both Jeeps and illuminated the clearing where the cars were parked. The vehicles were older models—a cinch to hot-wire if he could get close enough without being spotted.

A lone guard in the area stood at the edge of a building with his back to the sand, watchful, his rifle up and ready.

Dan faced Alexa and put his fingers to his lips, then he pointed to her and then to the ground.
Stay here.
When she nodded her agreement, he slipped away, keeping to the brush, his eyes and ears alert for unseen sentries.

He ran around the back of the building and snuck up behind the guard, ignoring the itch along his skin as the mud dried. The man hummed to himself as he watched the quiet courtyard, tapping the side of his rifle to some imagined beat.

Dan put a chokehold on the guy, using one arm to cut off his air supply, the other to lock it down. His captive let his rifle dangle and pawed at Dan’s arms to no avail. The guard went limp within seconds. Dan quickly stripped the man, stuffing the guy’s shirt in his mouth and using his pants to tie his arms and legs behind his back.

See how
he
enjoyed being trussed for a change. Killing the rebel would have been more expedient, but Dan had joined the PJs because he wanted to save lives, not take them. The man’s death—hell, he was more of a kid than a man—wasn’t necessary.

Before heading to the Jeep, he slid the magazine from the rifle and tucked it into the waistband of his boxers. Even if he didn’t need it, no one else could pick it up and immediately use it against him. He searched the kid’s pants pockets.

No car keys—that would have been too easy—but he did score a pocketknife.

With a quick glance around to ensure the area was clear, he sprinted toward the vehicles. He picked the Jeep with its nose toward the road, ready to go. It was an open top, so he didn’t have to worry about an interior light, or making a sound opening and closing the doors.

Staying low, he used the knife to cut the valve stem on each of the other Jeep’s four tires. That would slow them down.

He waved toward the bushes where he’d left Alexa, beckoning her to the passenger side of the roadworthy Jeep—the left side of the vehicle, since cars in St. Isidore drove on the wrong side of the road, a remnant from the island’s brief time as a British colony.

As soon as he saw her flicker of movement, he slid the rifle strap over his head and held the weapon with one hand as he jumped into the driver’s seat. Alexa sat down next to him as he located the ignition wires under the steering wheel.

The ends of the insulated wires shone brightly in the moonlight, already stripped.
How accommodating.
Maybe SIR had stolen the Jeep in the first place. For all he knew, they always started it this way. Whatever the reason, he was grateful for the extra few seconds of time.

He touched the two wires together several times before the engine turned over. Giving it gas before it could sputter out, he put the car in first gear and they surged forward onto the road.

“Our element of surprise is shot now,” he said over the noisy engine. “Keep your head down.”

“What about the kids?” she cried. “We can’t just leave them.”

His gut churned. He didn’t like it any more than she did, but there was no way to get the children right now. No room, no time, not enough firepower. She knew all of this, so he didn’t argue.

He just focused on keeping his hands on the wheel and the car on the rutted dirt track. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I have a plan.”