My eyes skated over the large, overstuffed white sofa, the rattan chairs, and finally, the long wall of glass doors at the back of the room. There it was…freedom, dangling less than fifty feet in front of me. I could do this. I could really escape.
The thought injected adrenaline into my previously sluggish veins. I ran, hoping, praying, and pleading with every stride that the doors weren’t connected to an alarm system—and if they were, that some overworked soul had forgotten to set it. My sandaled feet slapped against the tiled floor, echoing off the voluminous beamed ceiling.
My momentum nearly propelled me into the wall of glass, but at the last minute, my foot clipped a chair leg. I lost my footing and fell to my knees. My head snapped forward, and my teeth collided with the tip of my tongue. The distinct copper taste of blood flavored my mouth.
Shit.
Shit.
Shit.
Afraid to move, afraid to breathe, my eyes tracked the shadows through the room waiting for someone to find me. Long minutes had passed before I had enough courage to rise to my feet. This time I didn’t rush it. I twisted the lock to the right as slow as possible to minimize the sound. When I heard a click, I expelled every last molecule of air from my lungs and pushed the door open.
I didn’t wait for the alarm or any other sign of life from the villa. I ran, not even bothering to close the door behind me. Almost immediately, sultry jungle air wrapped around my skin like a wet blanket, strangling my chest and weighing down my steps.
Twigs snapped under my feet, the dense foliage scraped my skin, and rocks infiltrated the hard soles of my sandals. Without the benefit of any light from the villa, I could barely see five feet in front of me, but I didn’t hesitate. For the first time in over a week, I was free, and I refused to stop running until I’d put a couple miles between the villa and me.
At home, I jogged eight-to ten-minute miles every other day, but that was in a park with paved pathways and relatively linear routes. Given the rough terrain, I needed to run at least thirty minutes before I slowed to a walk. That might give me the lead I needed to find a town or someplace with a phone.
What seemed like an eternity of cuts, scrapes, and one nearly twisted ankle later, my body rebelled, refusing to continue for one more second. With my lungs burning and my chest heaving, I stopped, bending at the waist, cursing my need for water. My throat was so dry I could hardly swallow.
Stupid.
Fucking stupid.
Beyond fucking stupid.
Disbelief ricocheted through me. I hadn’t bothered with any supplies except a gun. I couldn’t exactly drink the bullets. Silently, I cursed my dad for not forcing me to take a wilderness survival course in addition to the gun safety class. With my limited knowledge of the area, I’d be lucky if I ever found a road, much less one that led to somewhere other than the depths of this godforsaken jungle. Most likely, I’d wander further and further into the jungle until I collapsed dead from exhaustion, and whatever wildlife frequented this area would eventually pick my bones clean. I shuddered as I imagined rotting away in the jungle.
I rested on a nearby rock and surveyed my surroundings. What was that phrase my dad always used? Work smarter not harder. Yep, that was it. It was exactly what I needed to do. Now that I had put some distance between the villa and myself, I needed to open my eyes, take in my surrounding, and plan my escape.
Complaining wouldn’t get me anywhere. My stomach rumbled, my mouth resembled cotton, my feet throbbed, and my eyelids weighed a thousand pounds. So what? I was free.
Squinting, I tried to scout a landmark or trail leading anywhere but back to the villa. I didn’t see much of anything except dark shadows and more trees and underbrush. But then, I heard a noise. It sounded like the low hum of a convoy of trucks or other motorized vehicles.
My body froze. For a few beats, the frantic pounding of my heart muffled whatever I thought I heard, but it didn’t last long. The hum of vehicles turned into a muted roar, drowning out the sounds of the night and my thundering heart. I tried to convince myself my mind was playing a trick on me, but that didn’t last longer than a few seconds. The faint glow of headlights in the distance lit up the inky black sky. I counted them.
One set.
Two sets.
Three sets.
Four sets.
Hunger, thirst, and tiredness forgotten, I sprinted in the opposite direction of the lights, eating up the terrain one giant stride at a time. I didn’t know if the convoy had anything to do with the Vargas Cartel, but I immediately dismissed the idea of waiting around until I figured it out.
The ground was slippery beneath my feet. Branches whipped my face, probably leaving marks, but cuts and scratches healed, and they wouldn’t kill me. On the other hand, the Vargas Cartel or any other criminal element roaming the jungle in the dead of the night might do exactly that. I suspected Ignacio’s little slice along my neck would be tame in comparison to what would happen if they captured me again.
Not more than ten or so minutes later, I tripped over an exposed tree root, and I flew face first into the dirt. Every inch of my body ached, and bone-deep shooting pains radiated through my ankle. I wiggled it. Holy shit. I bit back a scream. It killed. I wasn’t going anywhere tonight unless I crawled on all fours, and even then, I wouldn’t get far. During the fall, tiny rocks had torn the skin of my knees and palms.
I rolled to my side and cradled my body against a tree trunk. Dirt and leaves coated my skin, and as I closed my eyes, I said a little prayer that it would be enough camouflage to conceal me for a while.
I needed to rest for a few minutes….
Maybe an hour.
Chapter Fourteen
My eyes fluttered open briefly and then closed again. I was hot. No, hot didn’t adequately describe it. I kicked off the damp sheet smothering my body and flipped onto my stomach, but the position didn’t reduce my discomfort.
My body vibrated with pain. My stomach felt empty, and my eyes were dry and gritty. I groaned, rolling onto my back again, not opening my eyes.
“Are you in pain?”
I shot up in the bed, instantly awake. I scanned the room, but nothing looked familiar. Transparent netting hung from the ceiling, enclosing the bed in a haze of billowing white material. Bright light poured in through the open windows, and shadows of palm trees danced along the light yellow plaster walls. It looked like it was still morning, but I couldn’t be sure.
And then I saw him. “Ryker?” The words came out strained and barely recognizable to my own ears.
He stood up from a dark brown wooden bench beside the bed and pushed aside the netting. His eyes scrutinized every inch of my body. “You should sleep longer,” he finally said.
I shook my head, trying to remember how I ended up here. I remembered falling in the jungle and deciding to rest. I suppose I fell asleep instead. “How?” My voice cracked.