Navy SEAL Noel (15 page)

The hinge groaned, and then the wrench slipped free, clattering to the floor.

With a frustrated sigh, Jess picked it back up and tried another angle. It just slipped off again. On the third try she caught her hand on the wrench's teeth, leaving two long, red marks across her palm.

Time had become irrelevant. Only the battle between her and the stubborn hinges mattered.

And finding Will. Making sure he was okay.

She had to make a choice. She could either believe he'd keep his promise if he could or expect him to break it.

She chose to believe.

* * *

Two men pushed him forward, and Will stumbled to his knees. His hands, tied behind his back, were of no use, and he landed heavily on his shoulder, squinting against the pain racking every inch of him. His body hurt like it hadn't since Hell Week, or at least since the last time he'd been caught by an enemy sniper's bullet.

Someone shoved his arm and growled at him, but the ringing in his ears blocked out the words.

He wasn't sure he'd ever be able to focus on anything but that buzzing again. But at least he was breathing and conscious. And his heart was still pounding.

Cracking an eye open against the midday sun, he tilted his head back to get a look at his interrogators. Juan Carlos, smug and oily, stood before him, arms crossed and eyes glaring. He was framed by the back door of the big house.

Arturo hung back a step, rubbing his hands together in barely restrained glee. There was another man, but Will couldn't get his left eye open far enough to see if he was a familiar face.

Apparently Arturo had taken the opportunity to work Will over.

Perfect.

“What do you want me to do with him?” Juan Carlos said. “Just get rid of him.”

“But he's been sneaking out at night. We caught him crawling out of his window.”

As Juan Carlos gave him a cursory glance, Will took quick stock of what was actually injured and what was only bruised. He wiggled digits and limbs as far as he could. Toes and fingers were fine. His legs felt as if they weighed about twice as much as usual. Probably from the blood loss. No problem. He'd run three miles through the sand with a stress fracture in each leg. This was nothing.

Other than a zip tie cutting into his wrists, his left arm was functional. His right elbow stung when he tried to move it. But it moved. It wasn't dislocated or broken.

Good enough.

Juan Carlos waved his hand before resting it on the doorjamb beside him. “Just be done with it. We were never going to keep them around, anyway.”

Will's pulse picked up speed. Of course, they had always planned to kill Jess and him, but hearing the edict in such a cold tone sent a chill to his core.

Arturo stepped forward, waving his hands. “What if he knows something?” As he stepped back, the sunlight glinted off a metal blade tucked just inside his boot.

That could come in handy.

Juan Carlos rubbed his temples as if he was the one with the head injury. “Just kill him. Problem solved.”

“And the girl?”

“We'll keep her around until we even the score for my brother's murder.”

Arturo didn't say anything else. He just grabbed Will's sore elbow, yanked him to his feet and marched toward the front gate, compadre in tow.

They thought he'd been beaten.

Too bad for them, he would do whatever it took to get back to Jess.

THIRTEEN

J
ess surveyed her beaten and bruised hands. Swollen fingers. Scraped knuckles. Broken nails.

And all for what? One measly hinge.

The door still wouldn't budge, and she still had to track down Will.

Sudden footsteps pounded toward her door, and she slammed herself back against the wall. Clenching her wrench in both hands, she squeezed her eyes closed, listening. The footsteps stopped right in front of her cell, and the door swung in, popping off its broken hinge.

There was no time to hide her wrench beneath her mattress, so she squatted down to slide it behind the door, hoping the shadows would keep it hidden.

When she stood, Manuel loomed before her, his shoulders broader, his leer more frightening than it ever had been before.

“Vámanos.”
His command was just as effective as it would have been in English. “We go now.”

“The lab?”

He shook his head with a grunt, and she froze. Her feet simply refused to move.

If he took her anywhere but the lab, Will wouldn't know where to find her.

An image of him searching for her and coming up empty-handed flashed across her mind's eye. If he was looking for her—and she had to believe that he was—she had to go someplace he'd search first.

Maybe this was the moment to make a run for it. And if she did, where would Will look for her?

Please, God, let him find me.

A rush of electricity shot through her legs, and she felt the strength that anxiety and a lack of sleep had stolen from her. She could run.

She had to.

Letting Manuel lock her away wasn't an option. As long as she was free, there was hope. She'd just have to choose her moment very, very carefully.

Taking a cautious step, she followed Manuel into the late-morning sun. The compound buzzed with its usual activities, as though no one recognized that today was the big day. Didn't they realize that everything was about to change?

Manuel pointed his gun down the alley, and she took a deep breath. Walking slowly, she bolstered her courage. Three steps until the cross alley. Two.

One.

She turned left and sprinted as fast as she could.

A split second later her heartbeats drowned out Manuel's screams.

She pumped her arms, working them as hard as she could.

Jess zigzagged between buildings until she lost the sound of Manuel's footsteps, never sparing a glance over her shoulder. But the crack of a gunshot told her that she hadn't lost him yet.

She waited for the sting of a bullet. It didn't come. Only the jarring of her steps over uneven, shifting ground.

Heaving in wet air that tasted like sweat, she fought her way forward, despite every step growing harder.

Her hair stuck to the back of her neck. Her shirt clung to her damp back.

Still the only sound in her ears was the steady
thump-thump
of her heart.

Alleys became a confusing maze as she turned and dashed from one to another. Finally she broke free into the narrow lane along the outer wall.

The crack of a gun butt slamming into her chest startled her before she realized she'd been hit. It actually took a second for the pain to kick in.

And then all of her air was gone and she tumbled forward, clawing at the mud.

* * *

By the time Will had marched through the gate, past the northwest corner guard tower and so far off the beaten path that Arturo probably figured Will would never be able to trace his steps back, his pant legs were caked with mud up to his knees. Still, Arturo pushed him forward, toward the jungle.

Arturo's friend muttered under his breath, “Do we have to go farther? Why can't we just do it here?”

Will recognized that voice. He sneaked a peek at the face of the man who had lost the bet with Arturo on whether Will was in his room. Raul's eyes were too big for his face, his hairline receding, although he didn't look much beyond thirty.

“Did you bring a shovel, Raul?” Arturo grabbed Will's arm and yanked on it. Will faked a stumble, tripping into Raul, who nearly toppled at the contact. Suspicion confirmed; when the time was right, Raul would go down without much of a fight.

“No.”

“Then we take him into the jungle where he won't stink up the kitchen.”

Raul grumbled under his breath. “This is worse than when we planted the land mines.”

So the red marks on the map were mines, and he was going to have to find his way through them. He pictured the map, visualizing their locations and the best place to get back inside the compound.

But first, Will was going to fight. And he wasn't going to lose this one. He wasn't who they thought he was. He was a United States Navy SEAL.

And there was no way he would let two thugs keep him from finding Jess.

The jungle wall seemed to have been cut clean from top to bottom by a machete. The canopy rose straight out of the ground, leaving an ideal clearing for the less impressive security wall behind them.

When they finally reached the wall of green, Raul put a shaking hand on Will's shoulder.

“Get down.”

Will held his ground, wiggling his wrists again, stretching the plastic.

“Stupid American.” Arturo cursed in Spanish and spit next to Will's foot. He clearly thought he hadn't understood. “Down.”

“I heard you,” Will said in Spanish. His voice surprised even himself, it was so low and lethal.

He tried to school his emotions, channel all his training into a response to this single moment.

His heartbeat drowned out every sound of the jungle. The mumbling of his guards faded. His fists pulled tight.

This was why he'd spent years in the world's most intense training, building the skills so that he'd be able to protect those who could not protect themselves. Whether or not he'd known them for sixteen years.

Jess's face flashed across the back of his eyelids.

Suddenly the pain that had clamped on his temple released, and a smile spread across his face.

Arturo had no idea what was coming.

“Then get down on the ground.” The Panamanian's words were thick and angry, and Will didn't have to see his face to know he was sneering. Arturo raised his pistol. It was old and corroded, but it still worked. Will had firsthand knowledge of that. And at three feet, even the brute couldn't miss his mark.

With a silent prayer for speed, accuracy and Jess's safety, Will dropped to one knee. He jerked his other leg out, fast and hard.

Raul squealed like a pig as his leg buckled, and he hit the ground with another cry of pain.

Arturo stood frozen, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open. The weapon in his hand dangled dangerously.

Will jumped to his feet and charged the stunned man. His shoulder connected with Arturo's stomach, knocking the wind out of him as they tumbled to the earth. The Panamanian's fingers poked at Will's face, and he instinctively jerked his head away from the threat of more pain. With a well-placed knee, he elicited a shriek of agony before diving for the blade he'd seen hidden inside Arturo's boot.

He wedged it between the heels of his hands and the plastic zip tie, and sliced his bindings.

Rotating his shoulders was like a gift from above, and he sent a quick thanks in that direction.

Just as Will freed himself, Raul hobbled back toward them, heavily favoring his leg. He lunged for the dropped gun, but Will was faster. With a quick punch to the guard's windpipe, he sent him to the ground.

Using their belts and shoelaces, he secured their hands and feet to keep them from running for help. At this distance from the compound, he wasn't worried about anyone hearing them calling, either. Before he left them, he pulled off Arturo's jacket and hat. A little camouflage could go a long way in the middle of chaos. And Will had a distinct feeling that chaos was about to become the norm.

Only the shallow rise and fall of their chests and occasional groans confirmed that Arturo and Raul were still alive as Will rolled them beyond the tree line. Leaving them, he turned back in the direction of the compound. He needed to get to Jess. She would think he'd left her again, and he couldn't stomach the thought.

But if he was going to reach her, he had to think through his approach. If he retraced the route they'd taken to the jungle wall, he'd arrive at the front gate and be greeted by guards toting machine guns.

But the only other way inside those walls was across a minefield and over a barbed-wire fence.

Will rubbed the abrasions on his wrists, pondering his options. A muddy path to a violent confrontation or a surprise attack.

Juan Carlos would start to ask questions when Arturo didn't return, so Will couldn't stand around for long, trying to make a decision.

There was no question.

He had to go over the wall. But first he had to clear a trail.

Whipping his head back and forth, he hunted for a tool, but found nothing. There had to be something that would apply enough pressure to a land mine to detonate it, but would allow him to stay at least fifty feet back to avoid more injuries.

He dropped his chin to his chest, pinched his eyes closed and said, “God, I need help.”

When he opened his eyes, he caught a glimpse of a moss-covered log to his left.

“Thank You.”

He jogged over to the answer to his prayer, squatted down and rocked the wooden beam free of its resting place. With another push, it rolled forward, and he shoved it again and again until it reached the top of a low hill almost fifty yards from the compound wall. Taking one long breath and then holding it, he gave another push.

The log barreled down the hill, bumping but not bouncing as it picked up speed. Time stood still as it reached a third of the way to the wall. Nothing happened.

Will pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled.

Maybe it wouldn't work. Maybe he'd misjudged the weight of the log or the pressure required to set off a land mine. Maybe he'd remembered the mine placement wrong. Maybe—

The explosion nearly blinded him, and he threw up his arms to block the shower of grass and earth that rained down.

He'd taken one step in the log's cleared path when another mine exploded. And another.

Ears ringing, he chased the wooden sweeper down the hill. He was careful to keep just enough distance from it in case it found another hidden target.

And then the log crashed into the security wall, setting off a fourth explosion. By now, Will could hear the response from inside the compound. The shouts and ruckus were nearly as loud as the mines themselves.

He ran straight toward the melee. Pushing off what little remained of the log, he launched himself up the wall, his feet scrabbling to find purchase as his fingers clenched the top. His muscles strained to pull him up, the feeling of weakness throughout his body strange and probably a side effect of his head wound.

With a grunt and a sigh, he reached the rim. A knee held him in place as he flung Arturo's jacket across the barbed wire and scrambled over it. A shard of glass caught his hand, but Will barely noticed the blood dripping down his fingers.

He just had to find Jess.

* * *

It was dark when Jess came to.

Well, not quite. Bright light fought through the heavy curtains shrouding the windows as she crawled to her knees on a plush Oriental rug, but the room itself was dim. Her arms and legs shook under her own weight, her chest burning.

Pressing a hand over her sternum, she winced. Memories flooded back.

Manuel had caught her and stopped her with a gun to her chest. She'd crumpled like wet paper. And she felt just about as strong.

“Well, well. Look who's finally decided to join us.”

She jerked her head in the direction of the silky voice. She could see only his legs, one ankle crossed over a bent knee, as he rested in a leather wingback chair. His face was hidden in shadow, but she knew it was Juan Carlos.

“What do you want with me?” Her words came out with a cough and a wheeze. But she locked her elbows rather than give in to the lure of resting on the carpet.

“I just want you to do your job. And then I want you to go away.”

Permanently.

It was never spoken, but she still heard it, louder than a cargo train.

“I'm not going to release the Morsyni.”

He laughed with all the panache of a cartoon villain twirling his mustache. “Of course you are.”

“No. I'm not.” As she said the words, she knew they were true. She was the only person in this compound capable of transferring the toxin into the dispenser without killing everyone within a half-mile radius. If she refused to help, it would kill only those who meant to use it against their enemies. And Will. And her.

But if she couldn't escape with it, she could at least make sure that no one outside the compound was injured.

“I won't let you use it against people who don't deserve it.”

“You think they're innocent?” Juan Carlos jumped to his feet, pacing right in front of her.

She didn't have the strength to look up, so she let her head hang low as she sucked in another breath. A cool, dry breath.

She was somewhere with an air conditioner. The temperature in the room was actually cool enough to dry her sweat into itchy salt. Ignoring the urge to scratch, she savored the cool air and tried to focus on a way out. They must have taken her to the big house. Which meant she was right next to the shed. If she could get on top of that, maybe she could get over the fence.

Without Will.

If she was certain that he hadn't left her—and she was—then she couldn't do it to him, either. She had to stall long enough for Will to find her. Long enough for her to come up with an escape route for them both.

The thought nearly made her laugh. Will needed her help about as much as he needed a compass without a needle. He hadn't come down here because he couldn't handle the cartel. He'd come because
she
couldn't handle them. Because he cared about her.