Special Forces Savior (8 page)

Chapter Twelve

A few hours later all Molly could hear was the sound of her own breathing sawing in and out of her chest. Honestly, she was amazed Belisario’s men couldn’t hear it and use it to find them. She tried to make herself be more quiet, but found it impossible.

And they weren’t even running. Moving fast, but not running. If they were running, Molly was pretty sure she’d have already fallen dead on the jungle floor. Her lungs were burning, the damp, hot air of the rain forest making every breath agonizing.

After an hour of shooting pain, she lost most of the feeling in her hurt leg, thank goodness. Her shoulders and face were quite a different story. Every step she took reminded her of her injuries.

But she didn’t want to slow Derek down. Didn’t want to stop. Didn’t want to do anything that would put them in any more danger.

So she kept moving, despite the pain, despite the fact that she could never seem to drag enough air into her lungs. One step after another. Over and over.

Her hand was in Derek’s pants.

She would’ve giggled at the thought had she any reserve energy in her body whatsoever to do so. Sadly, she didn’t. But that didn’t stop her from enjoying the skin of his lower back that she could feel against her fingers.

Derek was here.

She still could hardly believe it. After her talk with Belisario yesterday, Molly had all but given up hope. No one would link her and Belisario, heck she could hardly link herself and Belisario. She would’ve sworn no one was coming for her.

To be honest, she thought it would be a few days before anyone even noticed she was missing. And by then, well, unthinkable things would’ve happened to her and she’d probably be dead. That’s what she had resigned herself to.

But then she’d woken up from another lovely dream—really, a memory—about Derek. To find not Henrico or another one of Belisario’s henchmen standing over her, but Derek himself.

After she figured out she wasn’t still dreaming, she’d never been so excited to see anyone in her whole life. Derek was here to get her away from this horror.

Molly didn’t think this could be a sanctioned mission by Omega, not here in South America at a private residence. She hoped Derek and the guys weren’t going to ruin their careers by getting her out. But regardless, she had to admit she was glad they were here.

The minutes began to blend. One step after another. Over and over. Molly almost felt as if she was floating out of her body.

She was so out of it that she didn’t even realize when Derek came to a stop. She plowed right into him, hit his hard back and was about to fall when he reached his arm around behind him and caught her.

He turned and put both hands on her upper arms. She could see concern in his eyes, but didn’t even have the energy to pretend that everything was okay. Everything seemed to be hazy.

“Whoa, sweetheart.” He helped her sit down on some cleared ground. “Looks like we need a break.”

“No, I’m okay.”

“Like hell you’re okay, Molly. Here, drink.” She was thankful he held up the canteen to her lips because she didn’t think she could do it.

“I know we need to keep moving.” Molly forced the words out after drinking. Derek took out another energy bar and began feeding it to her in tiny pieces. She wondered if she should feel offended that he was treating her like a baby bird. Honestly, she didn’t care.

Even sitting up was hard to do now. All she wanted to do was sleep. Derek sat down, leaned against a tree and lifted her into his lap so her back was against his chest.

“Just rest and eat,” he murmured against her hair.

He fed her piece after piece, bringing the canteen to her lips every once in a while. It was all Molly could do just to chew the bar and swallow.

“How much farther do we have?” she finally whispered, full volume feeling as if it was too much effort.

“A little over a mile and a half—”

They were both stunned into silence when they heard the chirp of a radio and someone speaking on it in Spanish less than a hundred feet away.

Derek spun them around so they were lying flat on their stomachs and less likely to be seen. Molly tried to understand what the man was saying into the radio, but he was speaking too quickly for her to pick out many of the words.

“Stay here, okay?” Derek whispered into her ear. “I don’t think he saw us, but I’m going to circle around the back of him and take him out before he can give any details about where we are.”

Molly nodded. She didn’t think she could do much more anyway.

* * *

T
HANK
G
OD
FOR
Molly’s exhaustion. If she hadn’t so desperately needed a break—Derek had turned around to find her almost gray with exhaustion—they probably would’ve run right into Belisario’s man.

Derek wasn’t sure how he’d found them, if he’d tracked their trail all the way from Belisario’s house or if he’d caught it somewhere more recently, but the fact that this area wasn’t swarming with bad guys was a good sign. Hopefully he was alone. But Derek knew that all the man needed was proof he was on the right trail and backup would be called immediately.

He couldn’t let that happen. Especially when they were this close to the plane. Derek thought about contacting Jon, but it was too risky, the guy might overhear. Plus, even if he sprinted it would take Jon too long to get here to be much help.

The guy kept talking on the radio and although Derek couldn’t tell what he was saying, his tone wasn’t frantic or excited so that was good. He didn’t think they were around here.

Just keep talking, moron. Give me a chance to sneak up on you.
Derek didn’t want to use his gun, which would be heard for miles. He needed to take this guy out up close and personal. Derek considered going around the opposite side, just in case there was a problem. It would lead the guy away from Molly, but decided speed was more of the essence.

Silently Derek stalked through the jungle. His Special Forces missions in Afghanistan may not have been in the jungle, but they had still required the same patience and focus.

The man never knew what happened, and Derek had not one iota of remorse as he came up behind him, covered his mouth with his hand, and stabbed him quickly where his cranium met his spinal cord at the back of his neck.

The man was painlessly dead before Derek laid him on the ground.

And if this was another black mark on his soul, so be it. This man may have been the one who hurt Molly. Or even if he wasn’t, he was in with the group who had. Derek had killed for much less reason.

He heard the unnatural cracking of a tree limb at the same time as he heard the safety being flipped off of a semiautomatic rifle behind him. Derek realized his mistake immediately. He had not checked for a partner.

But there was one. And he had either been smarter or just not as talkative, but Derek had never heard or seen him. And now his weapon was pointed at Derek.

The man spoke to him in harsh Spanish. Derek didn’t understand him, but he held both hands up and got up slowly, making no sudden movements as he turned around. He still had a knife in his hand, but that wasn’t going to do him any good against the weapon the man had pointed directly at him.

The man nodded at the knife with his chin. “Down,” he said.

Derek let the knife fall to the ground. At least the man hadn’t already shot him, which meant he didn’t have instructions to kill them on sight.

“Woman,” the man said.
“Dónde está la mujer?”

Where is the woman?
That much Spanish Derek could understand. “A woman? Dude, I haven’t seen any women out here. I wish. Your friend snuck up on me and I got a little carried away with the self-defense, I guess.”

The man was obviously trying to pick out whatever words he could understand. Derek had hoped the confusion might buy him more time, at least allow him to lead the man away from Molly, but he was reaching for his radio. Derek listened as the man reported in.

“Matalo. Encuentra a la mujer.”
The words came from the radio. Derek didn’t know what they meant, but by the evil smile that spread across the big man’s face, it wasn’t good news for Derek.

The man put the radio back in its holder and lifted his weapon. Derek was about to make a dive for it—a total gamble, but better than doing nothing as he got shot—when the man crumpled to the ground.

Molly stood behind him, a large branch in her hand. She had obviously belted the guy over the head with it.

But he wasn’t completely unconscious. He turned himself and his gun toward Molly in a rage. Derek didn’t hesitate, but dove forward, landing on the man in a flying tackle. The gun flew from his hands and Derek pounded his fist into his face.

The larger man didn’t want to go down without a fight. He got in a few punches that had Derek grunting in pain, before Derek was able to get behind him. Derek wrapped his arms around the man’s neck and gave a quick twist, breaking it. The man fell dead.

He landed near Molly, who immediately backed up to get away. Derek saw horror in her eyes.

Something in his heart froze. Now she knew Derek was a killer, could kill a man with his bare hands. He supposed she had already known academically that taking lives was sometimes part of his job. But she didn’t know the sorts of things he had done when he’d been in the military. The people he’d killed while his skin was touching theirs. Just like the two men he’d killed tonight.

When Molly looked over at him the horror was gone from her eyes, but he knew it would be back. This was why he had always tried to distance himself from her. To keep this blackness away from her light.

“
Matalo
means ‘kill him,’” she whispered. “That’s one of the few phrases I remember from my high school Spanish.”

“What?”

“That’s what the voice said on the radio.
Matalo
. Kill him.” She was swaying on her feet.

Derek rushed over to her. “Well, he definitely would have if you hadn’t clocked him. Thank you. And thank you to your high school Spanish teacher for teaching completely inappropriate phrases.”

She started to smile, but then paled even more, if possible. “I’m not feeling so good.”

The words were hardly out of her mouth before she turned to the side and was violently ill. Derek tried to brace her at her waist and held a hand at her forehead.

So much for all the food and water he’d tried to get into her. It was on the jungle floor now. Any fortification in her system was gone. They had almost two miles still to go and the second dead guy had called for backup.

They needed to leave now, but Molly wasn’t capable of going anywhere.

“I can run,” she said.

Derek actually scoffed right in her face. “You can’t even stand up straight, much less run.”

He took his backpack off and set it against a tree. He would just have to leave it here. “Time for a piggyback ride.”

“What?” Despite how she was feeling she still managed to look at him as if he was crazy.

“Carrying you on my back will be much easier than carrying you in my arms. And much more comfortable for you than me carrying you over my shoulder fireman-style.”

Evidently the thought of being upside down made her turn a little greener.

“Piggyback.”

They didn’t have any more time to waste. He swung her up on his back. Her small arms wrapped around his neck.

“Jon,” Derek spoke into his mic.

“Damn it, man, I was worried about you. Are you guys okay?”

Derek started to run.

“Yes. We’re about a mile and a half out and are probably going to be coming in hot. Someone found our trail and reported back before I could stop him.”

“What’s you’re ETA?” Jon asked.

“I’m carrying Molly, so I’m aiming for twenty minutes. I don’t have any guns on me.” Talking was harder now as he picked up speed.

“We’ll be ready. Liam’s already here.”

“Roger. Over and out.”

Derek focused on running. He still had his machete to cut through brush and whacked away now that he didn’t care about whether the trail could be followed.

He felt Molly try to hold her own weight as much as possible with her legs and arms grasping him tightly. But he could feel her muscles start to fail her as they got closer to the plane.

“Hang in there, baby,” Derek told her.

As he reached the clearing a half mile from the plane, Derek felt her start to slip from his back, her strength obviously spent. He tossed his machete to the ground, caught her by the arm and swung her around so he was carrying all her weight in his arms.

He heard shots coming from behind them in the jungle.

“Liam.” Derek hit the mic on his throat to talk.

“I’m out here and got my sights on you. Just keep running with her.”

Having Molly over his shoulder would probably be faster, but Derek wasn’t going to take the chance of them shooting at his back and hitting her. She was totally slack in his arms.

Derek heard more gunfire and forced more speed out of his legs. Not only did they have to make it on the plane, it had to take off. The plane wasn’t bulletproof.

Five hundred yards.

Four hundred yards.

He heard gunfire coming from in front of him. That was Liam, which meant Belisario’s men had broken the tree line.

Three hundred yards.

“I see you, Derek. Keep going.” It was Jon in his ears. Derek could barely hear him over the sound of the jet’s engines.

Two hundred yards.

“Liam. Let’s. Go.” Derek had no breath left for full sentences.

A bullet flew wide, over his head. Belisario’s men weren’t close enough for accuracy yet, but it wouldn’t be much longer.

One hundred yards.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Liam sprint up beside them, then he passed them and made his way up the stairs into the plane. Derek forced one last burst of speed and followed him up the stairs a few seconds later.

He dove for the ground inside the plane, twisting so he wouldn’t land on Molly’s unconscious form.

“Go!” Liam yelled and the jet began to roll even while Liam was pulling up and securing the door.