The Darkest Hour (KGI #1)(91)

“Sam here. Go ahead.”

There was interference on the line that made Sam frown. Damn bad time to be out of position.

“Bad news, bossman,” Rio drawled. “Someone got here behind us.”

“What do you mean behind you?” Sam demanded.

“We tagged your boys, set up surveillance, did a recon several miles to the north to set up an entry point for you. When we returned, the entire village had been wiped. It was professional and it was bloody. Message sent, I’m thinking.”

Sam’s blood went cold. It was too pat. The timing too close to Rachel’s accident on the bridge.

“Son of a bitch,” he breathed as he sat forward in his seat. “Pull out and get your asses back home. Immediately.”

“There’s more. We found one guy alive. Said he tried to help Rachel. Protected her while she was in captivity.”

“Protected her my ass,” Sam snarled.

“He was working undercover. No sacrificing the mission for the good of one and all that bullshit. He was the one who sent Ethan all the info, hoping her family would mount a rescue.”

“You’ll pardon me if I don’t offer him hero status,” Sam said nastily.

“Wouldn’t expect you to. Just relaying our findings. And, Sam, he said to be careful that he’d be after her next.”

“Who?” Sam demanded.

Rio made a sound of disgust. “Bastard had the bad manners to die before we were through talking to him. Just wanted you to be aware of a possible threat to Rachel that still exists.”

“Yeah, we know that now. Get your team the hell out of there. I don’t want you in any cross fire or some f**king war between the cartel.”

“You’re the boss.”

“And Rio . . . be careful.”

Rio didn’t answer and the line went dead.

“What the hell is going on?” Garrett demanded. The veins in his neck bulged, and his jaw was so tight Sam thought his teeth might pop out.

He briefly explained Rio’s findings and then added his own suspicions about Rachel’s accident.

Garrett leapt to his feet. “We have to go after her and Ethan. Son of a bitch, Sam, she said she’d been run off the bridge. She told us that and we blew her off.”

Sick fear welled in Sam’s stomach.

“I’ll grab the keys.”

They ran back to the house, and when they entered, the phone was ringing. And Sam knew . . . he knew it wasn’t good news.

CHAPTER 37

HOLDING her broken arm tight to her chest to immobilize it, Rachel concentrated on making a wide circle through the woods. She was on the wrong side of the highway. She needed to head to the lake. No one would expect her to go for the dead end, right?

Her head spun, she wanted to stop and puke. Her sides were on fire and vicious pain shot through her arm with every step she took.

She blocked it all out. She pictured the lake and how wonderful it would feel. The coolness of the water. The soothing ripples. Escape. She had to make it to the lake.

Her feet pounded the ground. She tripped over countless rocks and roots, but she kept her footing. If she went down, she was a goner. That thought alone kept her on her feet and running.

Was she even running in the right direction? She wanted to stop to catch her breath, just for a moment, but she didn’t dare. They could be right behind her.

No more shots had been fired, but how did she know they weren’t stalking her, waiting for her to make a mistake?

After an hour of agonizing pain, losing one shoe and battering her one bare foot, she plunged out of the woods and fell over the riverbank and down into the water below.

The cold was a shock, and she barely called back the scream of pain when her broken arm took the brunt of the impact. Water filled her nose and mouth, and she picked her head up from the gurgling stream.

For a moment she lay gasping for breath. Then she heard voices over the gentle lap of water. They were close. Oh God.

She heaved herself toward the steep bank, crawling desperately for the shelter of the overhang. It was her only chance to remain out of sight, and she had to pray they didn’t come down to the water.

She huddled against the damp soil and mud and curled herself into the tightest, most inconspicuous ball she could. The voices came closer now, and she heard the driver shout to the other one to spread out.

Her breath caught and held when dirt rained down the bank just in front of her. He was here. Right above her.

Sweat rolled down her neck. Her nose twitched uncontrollably. Every muscle in her body ached. She needed to move, to shift, something, anything.

“Bitch must have doubled back. She couldn’t have made it across the water,” the driver yelled to his partner.

Still she waited, frozen in fear, her heart pounding so hard she worried it would give her away. For an eternity she sat there, pain washing over her in waves.

Just as she started to cautiously shift her position, there was a slight noise and a trickle of dirt spilled over the bank again. She stared in horror, paralyzed by the mistake she’d almost made. He’d been waiting for her. He suspected she was out there, he just didn’t know where. He’d laid the trap, and she’d damn near fallen into it headfirst.

She closed her eyes, determined to outlast him. She wouldn’t move. She wouldn’t breathe. Her life depended on it.