Ultimate Escape (7 page)

“
Y
ou see it
?” Cruz asked.

“Yep,” Ace replied.

They’d been in the car for several hours, the road getting bumpier the farther they got away from the city. But they’d also encountered less traffic, something that, until this moment, Nola had counted as a positive.

Saint said nothing, but Nola felt the tension in each man, which skyrocketed her own. She lifted her gaze to the rearview mirror and saw a green truck rolling up on them quickly, moving with a purpose, and the dread that had seemed almost a memory roared back at full force. She suddenly wished Cruz was with her in the backseat, that she could reach out and touch him, steal some of his strength.

The
click
of Saint slamming the magazine into the gun he’d pulled from seemingly nowhere filled the small confines of the car. And it was quickly followed by others as Cruz loaded several more weapons.

“Argh!” Nola exclaimed, reaching for the door handle, her stomach dropping as Ace cranked the wheel hard to the left, rotating the car one hundred eighty degrees. Before it had settled completely, he slammed on the gas, approaching the truck at an ever-increasing speed.

Though muffled, Nola couldn’t mistake the first and then second and then third little crack that she’d come to recognize as gunfire.

“What are you doing?” she called when Cruz lowered the window and reached out, shooting with the same practiced ease he’d had at the hotel.

“Duck!” Cruz screamed.

Nola was stunned, but when Saint lowered his window and began firing, she scrambled, pressing herself to the floorboards. She cried out again when she heard a
thud
, and then thought she might lose the contents of her stomach when the vehicle lurched.

“We’re down two tires,” Cruz called. “Aren’t going to go too much longer. Let’s make this count.”

The men began firing more rapidly, the vehicle rocking unsteadily.

“Nola,” Cruz called, “when we stop, get out and run.”

She heard him, but rejected his words. There was no way she was getting out of this car.

“Do you hear me?” he called.

His voice cut through her frantic thoughts like a laser, the tone like a lighthouse, a beacon in the foggy chaos.

“Y-yes,” she responded.

And then, suddenly, the vehicle stopped. The men wasted no time jumping out, and when Nola looked up, she saw Saint standing facing the road, the mean-looking gun he pointed only enhancing his aura of menace.

“Out!”

Cruz’s voice again pulled Nola’s attention, and she scrambled to comply, getting out of the car, some of her dizziness receding when her feet hit the red-brown dirt of the hard-packed ground.

“Run, Nola!” Cruz said.

His voice had a strain of urgency that she had never heard. But she was frozen, unsure of what to do. Couldn’t imagine leaving him.

“Go!”

His voice, sharp, firm, spurred her, and she turned and ran toward a thick copse of trees. She looked back, saw him face away, squared, waiting for the green truck that approached.

He turned, and she caught his eye.

“Go! And don’t look back!”

Something in his eye and his voice begged her to comply, so she did. It was nearly impossible to listen and not see, but she kept her gaze ahead, ran with all the strength in her body.

And she didn’t look back.

Not even when she heard the
rat-ta-tat-tat
of gunshots.

Night was falling quickly, and Nola was alone in the jungle, completely lost.

When she’d heard the shots, three, then four, then so many that she couldn’t count them, she had run faster, harder, moving ever deeper into the thick foliage. The vegetation was thick, and only got thicker with each step, so thick and tall she got slower and slower as she fought with the underbrush.

And every moment, with every step, she imagined whatever menace had lurked in that green truck catching up with her, every breaking branch, every shuddering leaf igniting a new round of fear. But she continued, Cruz’s voice, the pleading in his eyes, making her advance.

But what she didn’t do was let herself think about what had happened as she’d run out of sight. Cruz was strong, the strongest person she’d ever known. He’d made it. He had to.

There was no other alternative.

So she trudged on, moving farther and farther away from the road. All signs of civilization had long faded, but she focused on moving, ignored the thick, humid air, the sweat that covered her body, the aching tug in her tired limbs. Cruz would have done the same, and so would she. And in the days since she’d first set foot on that plane, she’d done more than she’d ever thought herself capable of. She’d go on.

The slick, wet underbrush slapped at her calves, but she didn’t stop. She could feel the welts rising on her legs, the blood dripping from them, but still she didn’t stop, tried to stay calm and ignore the heat, the exhaustion, the thirst. She’d spent countless hours in the woods as a child, and that was what she was doing now, a simple stroll in the woods, she said to herself, ignoring the fact that the North Carolina woods were not the jungles of Vietnam.

Ha! I’m going to get eaten by lemurs, and they’ll never find my body.

The thought slipped in before she could stop it, but rather than scaring her, it made her laugh. She imagined it now, the whispered conversations about how poor Nola had gotten herself eaten by lemurs. They’d talk about how she shouldn’t have been there in the first place, use her as a story to scare the little kids who dared think beyond the world of Thornehill.

And then any humor faded as she tried to imagine how sad her friends and family, people that she’d taken for granted, would be if she didn’t make it out of here. How Cruz’s sacrifice would have been for nothing…

Resolve filled her and guided her steps. She was going to make it out of here. Somehow she’d find a way.

A sharp pain in her ankle brought her back to the present, and she finally stopped, the insistent jab leaving her no other choice. She crouched down and rubbed her ankle. Ignoring the blood that coated her fingers, she glanced around, trying to get a sense of where she was. Darkness had fallen completely now, and she could barely see anything at all. But the roughness of the terrain told her that she was moving higher. The sun had been behind her, and though she didn’t want to risk turning back, she decided it was her only option. There was a real chance that she’d run into the people who’d been chasing them, but if she stayed in the jungle for too much longer, her death was an inevitability. Making it to civilization was her only shot.

So, unspoken prayer replaying in her mind, she turned, and then began the arduous process of fighting her way back through the bush.

When she heard a twig snap, she jumped. Animal calls, the shifting of trees, an entire symphony of sounds had buzzed around her incessantly and more intensely as night fell upon her. But this sound stood out, rang as loud as the gunfire had earlier, and her heart, which had somehow gone back to normal, sped again.

She stopped, listening intently, and almost shrieked when she heard it again. Her pounding heart had drowned out almost everything, but that snap and the shifting leaves that followed it was crystal clear. For once, Nola didn’t question her instincts and set off to run.

She didn’t make it two steps before an arm clamped around her waist and a huge hand covered her mouth.

“Nola,” Cruz whispered.

She struggled against him, and Cruz knew she hadn’t heard him.

“It’s me, Nola,” he whispered against her ear, pulling her body close and willing her to understand.

She stopped thrashing, but she still gripped his wrist tight.

“I’m going to take my hand away. Please don’t scream. Can you do that?”

She nodded, and he slowly lowered his hand. They’d handled the guys in the truck, but Cruz knew that someone would come looking for them eventually.

Nola shifted and Cruz relaxed his hold. He could barely make out her face in the dark, but there was no mistaking the fierce intensity of her embrace when she threw her arms around him, the urgency with which she held him. As she clung to him, a relief unlike any he’d ever experienced filled him. He hadn’t allowed himself a moment of doubt, but feeling her in his arms, real and alive, was a reminder of how close he’d come to losing her.

In those moments at the side of the road, he’d made peace with the end of his life, with the fact that he’d never see her again, and with each second that had passed, he pictured her getting farther and farther out of their grasp, something that had made his sacrifice worth it.

“I thought—” she began but then cut off quickly, and he squeezed her tighter.

“I’m not so easy to shake,” he said and was rewarded with a soft laugh.

“Guess not,” she responded.

“We have to get out of this jungle,” he said.

“Agreed. Do you know where we are?”

“Not exactly, but I spotted what looks like a small resort about five miles back. That’s where we’re headed. Stay close.”

“Okay.”

And though Cruz would have liked nothing more than to hold her forever, he let her go and began the trek. Moving in the jungle at this hour was dangerous, but they had no alternative. The land mines and booby traps from the war had mostly been cleared, but cartels and poachers sometimes put in new ones. Between the people that probably hunted them and the snakes, scorpions, and wild boar that roamed the jungle, this would be one of the most dangerous journeys Cruz had ever taken.

But he’d complete it successfully and protect the woman he loved.

That thought should have shocked him, but it didn’t. He’d sensed something special about Nola the first time he laid eyes on her, and her strength during the following days had only reinforced it. That he’d been willing to risk his very existence for hers was the last bit of confirmation.

He loved Nola Bailey.

So he’d protect her, make it so that she got out of here. And then he’d return her to her real life.

“
H
ere
,” Cruz said.

He sped up, moving toward the small bungalow with Nola one step behind him. After hours of walking, the foliage had gotten thinner, the ground more even, and then they’d eventually emerged from the jungle. The bright, low-hanging full moon had lit their path, and Cruz’s heart had soared when he’d spotted the resort. It was actually a spaced cluster of small, isolated houses designed to give the visitors an authentic Vietnamese countryside feel.

And even better, it was the perfect place to stop and regroup.

After disabling the wired security system, he opened the lock and entered. The small structure had a tiny kitchenette, living room/bedroom combination, and bathroom. It was just the kind of place Nola had probably imagined she’d be spending her vacation.

He turned to her and was driven to action when he saw her face. She shivered, her teeth clattering, but probably not from fear. Somewhere in the hours they’d been in the jungle, her heat had faded. There was little room for fear with everything else they’d faced, the weather being one of their many foes. The heavy, humid air had turned frigid, and her thin T-shirt and pants hadn’t provided nearly enough protection, made clear by her shivers and the alarming bluish tint of her lips.

But even still, lips blue, face ashen, hair littered with leaves and twigs and who knew what else, she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

And she was alive.

Cruz moved quickly, locked the door and made sure no one was approaching.

Then, he grabbed the small comm that he’d kept in his pocket, praying that it still worked. He turned it on and flipped through the channels before he landed on the agreed-upon frequency.

Sam’s voice bellowed through the comm immediately. “Cruz!”

“Yeah. We need assistance. Don’t know coordinates, but we’re about ten miles away from the attack site. A small resort, private, exclusive.”

“Got it, man. Ace and Saint are with me. I’ll figure out the location, and we’ll get there stat.”

“Good.”

“Cruz…” Sam said, and Cruz could hear the question in his voice.

“She’s fine,” Cruz said, turning his eyes toward Nola.

“Cool,” Sam said, sounding relieved.

He disconnected and then went to Nola. “The guys are on the way and will be here soon.”

Nola glanced at him, and between her shivers and the flatness in her eyes, he couldn’t interpret what she was thinking. Feeling. He pulled her close, holding her soft curves against him, trying to transfer some of his heat to her. Her shivers slowed, but not enough for his comfort, and Cruz pulled back, grabbed her stiff-fingered hands, and headed toward the bathroom.

“This is nice, isn’t it?” he asked once he’d flipped on the light.

It was, the marble inlay, rosewood and teak furniture, and huge eight-person shower, one of the nicest he’d seen. But even on his best day, Cruz didn’t care about interior design. He knew he felt compelled to speak, babble like an idiot if necessary to get some response from Nola, to know she was here with him, she hadn’t been lost.

He turned the water on full blast and then, without bothering to remove his shoes and clothing or hers, pulled her into the large shower and closed the clear glass door. The glass fogged immediately, and Cruz felt his own chill receding as the steam built. But Nola’s lips were still blue-tinted and her body stiff, so he sat her on the bench in the corner of the shower and kneeled in front of her.

Cruz rubbed her fingers between his until the stiffness faded and she began to wiggle them. Then he moved to the other hand, watching her intently, feeling huge relief once the blueness had completely faded and her skin again glowed healthy brown.

The water had matted her thin braids to her head and face, but Nola didn’t seem to mind. He plucked leaves and twigs out of her hair and when she smiled slightly but enough he couldn’t miss it, his relief intensified.

He dropped her hands and turned his attention to her feet, grateful Sam had been smart enough to secure boots for her before they’d set off. Even the nicer sneakers that she’d worn wouldn’t have helped her out in the jungle, so though her calves were marked by vine lashes, her feet were probably okay.

That was confirmed when she pulled the boots off, but though they were unmarked, Cruz reached down to grasp them to make sure they were warm.

“You like that?” Cruz said when a corner of Nola’s mouth perked up again.

“I could get used to it,” she said.

Her voice was muffled by the flow of the water, but Cruz thought she sounded more like herself. Remarkable given what she’d been through, but then again, Nola had already proven herself remarkable so many times in the short period of time he’d known her.

He kept his gaze on hers, enjoying her now serene expression, and then he moved his hands up and massaged her solid calves and then traced his fingers at the back of her knees, which made her shiver, even though his touch was muted by her clothing.

When he reached her waistband, he opened the button of her pants. “Lift your hips,” he said.

With a soft sigh, she complied, and Cruz slid her ruined pants and underwear down her legs and cast them aside.

Seeing her like this excited him, but that excitement was secondary. Right now, he needed to take care of her. So he pushed aside the arousal that had him almost light-headed and focused on his task. He moved his fingers up and lifted the equally ruined T-shirt off and away, which left Nola in nothing but her bra.

The wet white satin contrasted beautifully against her skin, simultaneously sweet and sexy, uncomplicated at first glance but so much more than met the eye. Just like Nola.

Her nipples puckered under his gaze, and Cruz couldn’t stop himself from rasping his fingers across the tight buds and then filling his hands with her succulent flesh once he’d pulled the wet bra off her. He could have stayed there forever, touching her, watching her watch him as he touched her.

She grimaced when he stood abruptly and left the shower. After he quickly discarded his clothes, he returned to her, the warmth of the steamy water nothing compared to the heat between them. Or the exposure he felt. They were both bare, but Cruz felt
bared
, naked to Nola in spirit as much as he was in body.

It was fleeting, he knew, couldn’t last outside of the insane circumstances that had brought them together. But that didn’t matter now. All that mattered was being with her in this moment. He’d grabbed a thick sponge, and he gripped it tight and moved to Nola.

As he stroked her with the sponge, she stroked him with her hands, her touch that mix of shyness and boldness and sweetness that was pure Nola. And then she moved closer, her rounded thigh brushing against the top of his engorged cock.

Need seized him, but as much as he wanted her, and he wanted her very, very badly, he wanted to take care of her even more. It seemed she had other ideas.

“Nola…”

The word came out as a moan, a whisper, a prayer as she fisted him and slid her hand along his shaft, moving slowly, deliberately, the hot water that streamed down his chest and the precum that leaked from his slit aiding her strokes.

He dropped his hands and released the sponge when, hand still wrapped around his shaft, she moved closer, pressed her soft lips against his collarbone. Trailed them down his pec, licked at his nipple with sharp little swipes.

Her lips on him, her hands on him, her tongue on him, proved to be too much. Cruz moved until Nola was flush against the wall. Her lips and tongue still teased his chest, and he imagined how they would feel on his cock, wondered what it would be like to lose himself in the warm cavern of her mouth. But at this moment, he knew it wouldn’t be enough.

So he reached for one of her full thighs and set it on his hip and then repeated the motion with the other. The heat of her sex radiated against him, a siren’s call he would answer. When he shifted, his cock moved unerringly to her center, and he felt Nola’s need and urgency in the arch of her back, saw it in the depths of her eyes, so intense, it nearly matched his own.

With his first easy thrust, her silken walls pulled at him, beckoning him deeper. Cruz guided himself inside her, moving deeper and deeper until not an inch separated them.

Being inside her before had been incredible, but this was something more.

He’d almost lost her, had just only realized how much she meant to him, and to have the chance to be so close to her again was the greatest blessing.

That thought echoing in his mind, he thrust into her, her soft body trapped between him and the wall. And Nola was with him, every panted-out breath and low moan proving to him that he wasn’t alone in this.

Soon, too soon, Cruz felt the tingle that signaled his impending release, so with one hand braced against the wall, he used the other to reach between their bodies and strum Nola’s clit, teasing and stroking the tight bundle of nerves until Nola called out again and again, her voice breaking over the harsh cries.

When her body stiffened, her already snug walls clamped down even tighter, squeezing Cruz’s cock in the most delicious vise, and he lost the battle for control. Cum shot from him in hard spurts as the most intense climax he’d ever experienced raced through him. And as amazing as it was, it was nothing compared to the feeling of Nola against him, her skin wet and warm against his, the faint pounding of her heart under the palm he’d placed between her breasts. Her eyes, so sweet, so beautiful, watching him.

He knew he had no choice, but Cruz wondered where he’d find the strength to let her go.

“Put this on,” Cruz said as he handed Nola a thick resort bathrobe.

She was soaking wet, knew that her hair was probably a mess, but she didn’t care a bit.

She’d made it out of that jungle, Cruz was safe, and the passionate encounter in the shower would be enough to fuel her fantasies for the rest of her life. Nola had known her life was safe, staid, but this entire experience, Cruz, had shown her how little she’d lived before. She’d never been so scared, but she’d never felt so alive, so loved. She knew that once this adventure was over, she’d never feel that love again.

Once she’d put on the robe and settled on the small settee, she stared at Cruz, the silence between them easy, their bodies having said what needed to be said, expressed the relief at having found each other again.

“Why are you here?” Cruz asked out of the blue.

“Well, there was this truck that was filled to overflowing with scary-looking dudes who were shooting at me, so I ran into the jungle, where my dashing guardian Duarte found me and brought me here,” she said.

“Dashing, huh?” he replied.

She didn’t respond, but smiled bright. “Here in Vietnam, you mean?”

He nodded.

“The million-dollar question. I guess I just wanted to get away.”

“Was it a guy?” he said, and though his voice was the same, Nola didn’t miss the narrowing of his eyes.

“Yes and no. It’s kind of embarrassing actually,” she said.

Cruz stayed quiet, but his interest was clear.

“He fell in love.” Nola shrugged.

“And left you,” he said, voice rough with offense. Nola warmed at the knowledge that this man, who was a practical stranger, was offended on her behalf.

“Yes. He and a friend of ours—his—realized they were meant to be, so there was no room for Nola at the inn.”

“How long?”

“Had we been together?”

He nodded.

“Seven years.”

Cruz’s eyes narrowed again. “That’s a long time. When did it end?”

“Umm, a little over a month ago,” Nola said.

He looked shocked for a moment, assessing Nola with eyes that went unreadable.

“You didn’t love him,” Cruz said after a moment, his voice brimming with certainty.

“Maybe I thought I did once, but no, I didn’t. The feeling was mutual.”

“He’s a fool,” Cruz said, and then he stood and moved to the window. He’d said the words with such conviction, Nola couldn’t help but believe him.

About an hour later, Nola heard the low hum of an engine. Cruz perked, and after a quick peek out the window, he unlocked the door.

Sam, Ace, and Saint filed in, and Nola realized that she was relieved to see all of them, even Saint, in good health.

“Got you guys some stuff,” Sam said, heading straight to Cruz to hand him a black duffel. Then he walked over to Nola and handed her one as well.

“Thanks, Sam,” she said.

“Ma’am.” He nodded, clearly happy to see her.

“Let’s get dressed, Nola,” Cruz said.

She followed him into the bathroom, admiring how masculine he looked even in the fluffy terry cloth robe. He dressed quickly, his movements efficient, looking much as he had on the shuttle when she’d first seen him, save his wet hair. Nola also dressed quickly, and though the clothes weren’t a perfect fit, she was relieved to have them despite her self-consciousness at not wearing a bra.

When they emerged from the bathroom, Sam had set up yet another computer that Ace and Saint were crowded around.

“So any clue what our visitors were after?” Cruz said.

Saint shrugged his huge shoulders. “Seems as though there’s been a slight misunderstanding.”

He grabbed a folder and stalked toward Nola.

“Is this the man who switched seats with you?” he asked, holding a picture in front of her face.

Nola looked at the picture, searching for any similarity or familiarity.

“Yes…?” she finally said.

“Was that a question?” Saint barked.

She spared a second to glare at him, something she couldn’t have imagined doing a week ago. Then she looked back at the picture. “It’s him. He was wearing sunglasses, but it’s him.”

“What’s the story?” Cruz said.

“Our Good Samaritan is a low-level diplomat with ties to organized crime who’s apparently looking to strike out on his own. He was carrying the drive for an HCMC syndicate and apparently his plan was to exchange it for seed money to fund his own operation. So the guys who were coming after you, Nola, worked for him. The ones who came after us work for the rightful owner of this information.”