Swept Away (19 page)

“Yeah,” he agreed, but neither elaborated, just kept walking, pushing through. “Don’t suppose
you know your way around this part of the island at all,” he said over his shoulder.

“No—my first time on this side.”
“Any idea how big the island is?”

She frantically searched her memory, trying to recall. “Seems like my dad said it was around
two miles this way”—she motioned crossways with her hand, indicating the length parallel to
the beach—“and about a mile wide.”

Brock nodded. “Know anything about the topography? Any knowledge of caves, ravines, anything that would make a good hiding place?”

She shook her head, feeling useless. “I don’t know—I’m sorry.”
“Nothing to apologize for, honey—just hoping against hope, that’s all.”

He turned back ahead and continued to lead her into the depths of the island interior. Above,
thick brown vines that made her think of Tarzan hung from trees, tall pines shrouded them, and
somewhere a bird made a cawing noise. Leaves and palm fronds rustled in a moist breeze.

“Where do you think they are now?”

It took Brock a minute to answer. “Depends. They’ve probably found the bungalow and
realized nobody’s there. If they take to the woods around the house, we could be safe here. But if they head to the beach and follow our footprints, they could be on our trail pretty soon.”

“And what’ s our plan? Just keep walking and hope we stay ahead of them?”

He looked over his shoulder and spoke soft but frank. “Right now, we’re looking for a hiding place for you.”

She knitted her eyebrows. “Not you, too?”

“Hiding together wouldn’t be in your best interest.”
“But then what will you do?”

When he peered over his shoulder at her again, she got the distinct impression he was holding
something back.

“Tell me, Brock. Tell me what you’re planning.”

He hesitated another minute, then said, “All right, here it is. I want to find a good place for you to hide, then I’m gonna go back out and play cat and mouse with them.”

She pulled in her breath, horrified. “Why?”

He blinked, still looking reticent. He’d stopped walking, so she did, too.

Finally, he looked her in the eye. “Because I’d much rather have something happen to just me
than to both of us. And this is the best way to prevent something happening to you.”

No longer giving any heed to what she might step on, she propelled herself toward him, letting
her hands curl into fists in his shirt. “No!” she said. “No, no, no.”

“Kitten, listen to me—” His hands circled her wrists.

“No,” she said again, then began shaking her head. “Please don’t do this, Brock. Don’t make a target of yourself just to save me.”

“Your safety is what concerns me right now. It’s the best way.”

“No, it’s not, and I’ll tell you why. You’re setting me up for a lifetime of guilt and misery. If
you die because you’re protecting me, I won’t be able to live with myself. Do you want that on
my head?”

He ran a hand back through his dark hair, looking troubled, and when a bead of sweat rolled
down his forehead, she instinctually reached up to wipe it away. He braced his hands on her
bare shoulders. “Of course I don’t. But I don’t see any other way to keep you safe.” His eyes
were so earnest, suddenly possessing depths she hadn’t known possible—and in that moment,
she understood, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he cared for her, at least just a little. If
pressed, he’d probably claim this had something to do with her being a civilian, but it was more
than that—she knew.

And she cared for him, too—a lot. Always had, always would. She hadn’t wanted to let herself believe that over the last couple of days, but it was useless to keep lying to herself. “Keep us both safe,” she offered in little more than a whisper. “For me.”

She watched him take a deep breath, then peer down at her. “And just how do you propose I
do that, honey? Because if it was that simple, I would. I don’t have a death wish, believe me.
But—”

“When we find a place to hide, just hide with me.”

His brow narrowed. “Have you ever heard the term ‘fish in a barrel’?”

“Who says they’ll find us? Look at this.” She motioned around them at the dense greenery.
Besides the tall, thin pines, the island’s interior teemed with clumps of wax myrtle, live oaks,
and large banyan trees. “The island might seem small, but we’ll be like needles in a big jungly
haystack out here.” She’d released her fistfuls of his shirt a while ago, but didn’t hesitate to press her palms flat to his chest as she looked up into his eyes. “Besides, I don’t want to hide alone. If you leave me alone out here, Brock, I’ll panic. I’ll do something stupid. And...” She
could hardly even bring herself to imagine this, but she couldn’t avoid it, either. “And if they find me, Brock...” She shook her head helplessly. “I don’t want to be alone for that, either— okay? So I’m begging you not to leave me. Please don’t make me be alone out here. Stay with
me.”

Chapter Seven

Damn it, no way in hell should he be letting her pleas sway him. But the words sounded so
strangely familiar, until Brock figured out... they were his. From a long, long time ago. Please
don’t leave. Don’t leave us alone, Mama. Please don’t go.

His breath caught roughly. Shit. Hadn’t gone there in his head in a while. And not what he
needed right now, that was for damn sure.

But the fact was, he knew what it was to be left alone, frightened, not knowing what would
happen. And that knowledge, combined with the look in Kat’s eyes, meant he couldn’t do it.
No matter how much he wanted to keep her safe. He lifted one palm back to her soft cheek.
“Okay, kitten,” he said, low. “I won’t leave you.”

She reached up to latch on to his arm. “Promise?” Her blue eyes remained so reaching,
desperate.

He still didn’t know if it was the answer that would be best for her in the end—but what he did know was that he couldn’t deny her. “Promise.” Then he yanked his gaze away before he did
something stupid and impulsive like kiss her, and said, “But we’ve gotta move now.”

Taking her hand again, he resumed pulling her along through the brush and low growth that
blanketed the ground. He looked for cover and saw... nothing. The foliage was dense, thank
God, with ferns below and tall trees stretching skyward, a green roof with only hints of
sunlight peeking through—but the terrain was too flat and the covering of smaller trees too
sparse, despite what Kat might think. Hiding behind one would only expose them on the other
side.

That’s when he heard it—something besides their own noise.
“Stop,” he said softly, and they both stilled in place.

Not far away, someone else waded through the low growth. The brothers had found their footprints.

He didn’t make eye contact with Kat—he couldn’t let himself witness her fear—and instead glanced back to see if one or more Morales brother could be spotted. No—thank God. Yet they
weren’t far away.

“We’ve gotta move, honey—fast,” he said, then pulled her to the right, thinking to change their
direction from the fairly straight line they’d followed up to now. Might not put as much
distance between them and their pursuers—but it should help throw them off the trail.

Kat stayed quiet behind him, and moved pretty damn fast, too, despite the difficult terrain. Once
or twice, her long skirt got caught on a branch, but she was quick to tear it away and continue
on their path.

Just keep moving and get her safe. Get her out of harm’s way. It was all that mattered right
now.

“Stop,” he said again a few minutes later, his rough whisper bringing them to a halt. They
listened—and this time, the sounds of someone else traveling the forest came from farther
away. He dared glance into Kat’s eyes and found a bit of relief there. Premature, maybe, but for
the moment, his emotions echoed hers.

Turning, Brock realized the island’s interior had begun to grow blessedly thicker. More vines
blocked his path, walking was slower. He spotted an enormous snake—a pale yellowish color
—slithering around a tree, but kept walking without calling it to Kat’s attention.

And then, finally, he found what he’d been looking for. A sizable rock outcropping ascending vertically for maybe ten feet. At its base, clumps of thick ferns and wax myrtle, and even a convenient cubbyhole opening a couple of feet deep into the stone. It wasn’t the greatest hiding
place he’d ever located, but given the landscape, it was the best they were gonna get. And at
least they’d, by chance, worn the right colors today—earth tones as close to camouflage as you could get without visiting the hunting department in a sporting goods store. “Here,” he said,
pointing.

Crouching, Kat moved into the indention in the rock, and he followed. Being close wasn’t a question now but a necessity; they sat shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh, knees drawn up in
front of them. When he turned to look at her, her face was beautifully near. “Doing okay?”

She looked uncertain, but said, “Yeah, fine.”

He gave a commending nod. “Good. You’re doing great.” Then he squeezed her knee without quite thinking, and their eyes met again—yet he didn’t pull his hand away. She might want to
fight the wild sexual attraction between them, but right now he thought they both probably
needed a little human contact.

“This is gonna be okay, kitten,” he promised. He had no idea if he could keep her safe, but he
would try like hell, and he needed to reassure her, keep her strong.

She nodded again, and they went quiet—until he realized he could only barely hear the rustling sounds in the distance now, like maybe the brothers were moving away. Keep right on moving,
guys, keep right on going.

“What do they smuggle?” Kat whispered when he least expected it. He supposed she was
wondering what the hell was so important that they felt the need to chase him down. “Drugs?”

“Nothing that bad, actually.”

She looked at him. “What then?”

“Just something valuable. And stolen.”

“Like art?”

“Sort of. But not exactly.”

“Why can’t you just tell me? Given that I’m up to my neck in this now.”
“Because it’s not really all that important, and the less you know, the better.”
“Why?”

Because they have to kill me—I know everything. If you don’t know anything, maybe they’ll
take mercy on you. “Because I say so, that’s why.”

“Tell me.” Her eyes narrowed demandingly.

“No.” Then he looked down at where he still touched her knee through her skirt, and decided to
change the subject. “This is pretty,” he said, rubbing the fabric between finger and thumb.