Deadly Promises (Tracers #2.5)(87)

She was definitely losing it. She needed to get a grip on her emotions. With every painful step, she told herself to just keep moving, to just keep up with him. Forget about everything else and just get back to safety.

“Interesting place for a tunnel,” Gage said. “Not a major urban area within a hundred miles.”

“Maybe that’s the point.”

“Interesting tunnel, too.”

“How do you mean?”

He glanced back at her over his shoulder. “It’s clean.”

She scoffed at him. It had smelled like car exhaust. And if her knees and palms were any indication, the place was filthy. “By what standard?”

“By illegal border tunnel standards. I’ve done some ridealongs with Border Protection in San Diego. The tunnels there are tagged up with graffiti, littered with trash, crowded with warring gang factions.”

She waited for him to make his point.

“This one was different. Quiet, clean, hidden. Almost like it’s privately controlled, probably even guarded. I don’t think it’s any accident those guys walked up on us.”

“You think they heard us pull up?”

“That or they could have a surveillance system. Anyway, it explains some of the violence going on around here. This route is probably controlled by a cartel that doesn’t want outsiders around.”

Gage stopped and stood still for a few moments. She’d learned to get quiet when he did this. “I’m pretty sure we’ve lost them.”

“Okay.” She wanted to feel relieved, yet she sensed a “but” coming.

“But we can assume they have night-vision goggles,” he added. “So it’s possible they could spot us, even if we don’t see them.”

Her blood chilled at the thought. “Why do you think they have night-vision goggles?”

“I heard a vehicle, earlier, but there weren’t any headlights, which means they were driving blind again. That’s how you do it.”

“And you know this because… ?”

“I’ve done it, running desert patrol. You mark the roof of your vehicle with glint tape so friendly planes don’t mistake you for the enemy. Then you kill the lights and go.”

Of course. Simple as a trip to the minimart.

Kelsey glanced around at the inky blackness, then edged closer to Gage. The warmth of his body was the only comforting thing in her universe right now. That and her Ruger. But the gun wasn’t really that comforting because she couldn’t see worth a damn and her hands were shaking. She tucked it back into her holster, where at least she wouldn’t accidentally shoot herself or Gage.

They trudged on through the darkness. He moved with confidence, as if he knew exactly which way to go, even though it was black as tar. Kelsey didn’t talk. She didn’t complain. She didn’t say one word about the terror swamping her, but she knew Gage sensed it. He kept touching her hand, as if to reassure her, while he guided her every step.

She wouldn’t think about it.

She wouldn’t think about Dylan, her student. A young man she should have been responsible for.

She wouldn’t think about Gage, who’d been shot at and had his truck stolen while trying to protect her.

And she wouldn’t think about the memories those gunshots had triggered, memories she worked hard to keep locked away. She wouldn’t think about the panic churning inside her, and how even now—probably an hour since the last sputter of gunfire—she still couldn’t stop shaking.

Gage would understand, probably. He’d been in a war zone. But her nerves were raw, and her fear was choking. She couldn’t talk about it now. All she could do was walk and hold on to him and hope that they’d make it out of this.

A brief flash, then a rumble of thunder. Kelsey glanced up at the sky. Not a star in sight. No moon either. At sunset, the clouds had been thick and ominous. She knew if their current luck held, at any moment the sky would open up.

Another flash of lightning, and then it did.

KELSEY WAS SOAKED to the skin and limping, and Gage’s last offer to carry her had been met with a snarl. The woman was stubborn, and two hours of hiking through the rain on an injured ankle hadn’t dampened her resolve.

He stopped to look around and she bumped into him. He checked his watch and, in the dim green glow of the dial, he glimpsed her face. She looked wet and ragged and in dire need of a hot shower. Plus, she was shivering, probably less from the rain than the still fresh fear of being chased by men with machine guns.

“I’m going to carry you now. No arguments.”

Without waiting for a response, he gripped her waist and scooped her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.

As expected she went ballistic.

“Stop it!” She pounded on his back. “Stop it right now! I can walk, damn it!”

“We’re going up a hill,” he said, carefully balancing his load as he made his way up the steep terrain.

“Put me down!”

“Quit squirming unless you want both of us to fall off this mountain.”

She went still, thank God, and Gage adjusted her weight. He felt the backs of her knees under his hands, and her breasts pressing into his back was making it seriously hard for him to concentrate.

Finally they reached the top of the steep incline. A few more steps and they were under the protective shelter of a rock overhang.