Page 20 of Risky Passion

But my real expertise was knowing exactly how to scratch that magic spot under Oscar's chin that turned him into a purring puddle of contentment. Or understanding that Stella was a queen diva and took her belly rubs only on her time.

The thought of my cats hit me like a punch to the gut. Who wouldunderstand their quirks if I didn't make it home? Oscar and Stella needed me.

A branch cracked behind me like a gunshot. I shoved the thoughts away, angry at the tears stinging my eyes.

I will be rescued.

I just need to stay alive long enough for them to find me.

With my back against a moss-covered tree, I gasped for breath, trying to get my bearings. The sun barely penetrated the swamp, and my only hope was that the breeze occasionally sweeping through the stillness came from the ocean. Using that as my compass, I pushed off the tree again, heading into the mild wind.

At a section where the mud looked more solid, I put my head down and sprinted toward a massive paperbark tree with bark that peeled in pale curls that were only just visible in the dim light.

Halfway toward the tree, the illusion of hard ground shattered, and my foot sank into ankle-deep mud, jerking me to a stop. I went down hard, sprawling face-first into the sludge. Agony exploded in my hand as my dislocated finger slammed into the muck. White-hot pain screamed up my arm, and a guttural cry escaped my lips before I could stop it.

Behind me, a shout tore through the air.

Fuck! They heard me. Did they see me?

Tears stung my eyes, and I tasted mud and rotting vegetation on my tongue. My heart hammered in my chest as I wrenched my foot free with a disgusting squelch, but the mud yanked off my sneaker.

Another shout cried out behind me. Closer, angrier.

Abandoning my shoe, I gritted my teeth and clawed my way forward on my hands and knees. My breaths came in ragged gasps as I dragged my body upright. Clenching my jaw and fists, I scrambled around the massive paperbark tree and pressed my back against its rough trunk, sucking in huge gulps of air. My chest heaved, but I forced myself to stay quiet, ears straining to hear the bastards. The swamp was becoming darker by the minute, and the creatures were growing louder. Shadows stretched long and deep, swallowing the vegetation in murky twilight.

The darkness could work for me, but it could also be my death sentence.

Would those assholes give up when it became too dark?

A loud splash erupted to my right, and my heart jumped into my throat.

Am I closer to Cooper Creek than I thought?

Something thrashed in the water. Fuck. Whatever that was, it was big. And fucking scary.

I pushed off the tree, angling away from the sound, and took off again. My wet sock squelched with every step, and the heavy fabric clung to my foot, slowing my movements.

Stopping behind another tree, I yanked off the soggy sock, and the swampy air prickled against my bare skin. Clutching the muddy sock in my good hand, I held my breath, straining to hear past my thundering heartbeat. The nighttime chorus of the swamp came to life around me: clicking insects, throaty frogs, the calls of night birds that sounded so damn spooky.

A branch cracked somewhere behind me.

Oh God, I can hear them breathing. They’re close.

My chin trembled as I slid down the rough bark of the tree, its jagged surface snagging on my uniform shirt. I sank my ass into the warm muck and wrapping my arms around my knees, I curled into myself, desperate to be invisible. Biting down the panic rising in my chest, I forced my ragged breaths to quiet.

The warm mud seeped into my slacks like crude oil, and my dislocated finger pulsed with white-hot daggers of pain. I pressed my forehead to my knees, squeezed my eyes shut, and forced myself to focus on the sounds. On survival.

Something scurried across my good hand. Clenching my jaw, I snapped my eyes open and eased my head back.

Oh fuck. A tarantula.

A scream lodged in my throat as its thick, hairy legs crept across the mud-streaked skin of my forearm. The spider paused, swaying its bulky body that was easily the size of my palm.

Last month, I’d medevacked a hiker out of these parts after one of these monsters bit him. By the time we got him ontoLadybeetle, the poor man was writhing in pain, drenched in sweat, and his arm had swollen to twice its size. He’d vomited three times during theflight while I pushed my plane to its limits, racing the fever that threatened to burn him alive.

A shadow shifted to my left, and my heart thundered in my ears as a man emerged from the shadows. He moved like oil on water, sleek, deliberate, and weirdly fluid.

Every nerve in my body screamed to swat the massive spider away, but I locked my muscles into stone. The tarantula paused again, and in the silence, I swore I heard the faintest hiss.

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