Page 32 of Risky Passion

I’m saved. Someone’s actually here for me.

“I’m here! Over here!” I screamed, my voice raw and cracking with desperation.

Gunfire erupted again, ricocheting off trees and tearing through the air and the sounds bounced in every direction. I couldn’t tell where the voice had come from. The swamp swallowed everything, twisting noises into a cruel jumble.

“Where are you?” The voice cut through the chaos, closer this time, but still disorienting.

“I’m in the swamp!” I yelled.

Just over my head, bullets sliced through the air, wild and erratic and barely missing me. Somewhere ahead, precise shots cracked back in response that were exact and controlled.

I dragged my body through the sludge. The water clung to me like a living thing, trying to pull me under. Latching my good hand around a weed coiled at the water’s edge, I used it to haul myself closer to the bank.

Out of the corner of my eye, a blur of brown and black fur streaked along the bank. My breath stalled in my chest.

That’s a dog.

I froze behind the shrub, tracking the massive, sleek body as the dog darted between trees. The German shepherd moved with deadly precision, sniffing the ground as its muscles rippled under its mud-slick fur.

Farther back, something moved.

A man.

He was crouched behind a thick tree, barely visible through the dense swamp foliage. My heart stuttered. I blinked hard, trying to make sense of what I was seeing.

Jesus Christ. He’s half-naked.

No shirt, no shoes, just jeans and a gun in his hands.

Shit.

My chest tightened.

Maybe he’s not here to save me. Maybe he’s one of them. Maybe he heard my Mayday call and my screams, and he’s here to kill me.

He fired again, and the gun cracked like thunder. I flinched, waiting for the telltale scream of agony behind me. But it didn’t come. He’d missed his target.

He darted to another tree, raised his weapon, and fired again. Just one shot, calm and in control. He scanned the swamp, maybe searching for me.

The dog circled back to him, with her tail taut like a rudder behind her, and she dropped into the mud at his side, ears pinned forward and focused.

The man moved closer, darting behind a mangled shrub. The dog shadowed his side.

My breath caught in my throat as the man’s eyes locked onto mine. I froze under his gaze.

His intensity was terrifying, sharp and unwavering, yet there was something else there, something I couldn't quite read.

Who the hell is this guy?

“Can you get out?” he called, his voice low and way too calm.

Human traffickers work these swamps.What if this is just another trap? What if I'm running from one nightmare straight into another?

He crawled toward me on his belly, mud clinging to his skin. At the water's edge, he thrust out his hand. "Tory. Come on!"

I hesitated, my mind racing through a thousand brutal possibilities.

"Hurry."

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