Page 16 of Her Reluctant Hero
When she got home. The hope was even farther away now than when she was in the compound. She hadn’t thought of all the obstacles to cross in escaping Santiago, in getting out of the country.
Now Sergeant Shepard wanted to leave her in this village so she could go back to Santiago. Clearly he didn’t want her blood on his hands.
He’d just as soon leave that responsibility to Santiago, which is what would happen if she went back to him. She’d seen what he was capable of, firsthand.
Ahead of her, Shepard halted, motioning for her to stop as well.
Stopping hurt worse than walking, and she swallowed a whimper.
Okay, maybe not, if the look Shepard shot her was any indication.
They drew back to the trees, Shepard pulling her with him. Her muscles were so stiff, she staggered at the movement.
Her heart thudded as Shepard palmed his pistol and moved forward, his lean body at once taut and graceful as he moved into the village. She’d never seen anyone so focused. But of course their lives depended on that skill.
She wondered what had him worried and hoped he didn’t shoot a villager by mistake. He was that tense.
He disappeared, and her pain disappeared as she held her breath, waiting for him to return.
She was alone in the silent jungle. Quiet jungles meant danger. Her legs were water, her boots planted in the mud, as every nerve in her body screamed for her to run after him.
Her muscles finally heeded her nerves and she stumbled in the direction she’d seen Shepard go. She rounded a hut only to be yanked back against a hard body, a large hand over her mouth.
Before panic choked her, she realized the hand was rough and bandaged.
Shepard.
Still, he’d scared the hell out of her. She plowed her elbow into his stomach—his hard stomach—and threw her weight forward but he held fast.
“Hold still.” The words brushed against her ear.
It was then she realized they were in the shadows, and that there was no movement in front of them. Over the scent of Shepard’s sweat, she smelled something else, more acrid.
Behind her, she felt Shepard working to control his breathing, though she could feel his heart thundering against her back. What had him so uptight? The silence?
Then he eased his hand from her mouth, turning her at the same time so she could see his finger over his lips.
Desperate to know what was going on, she opened her mouth, but she stopped herself before the words came out, his razor-sharp look casting a warning. Once he was sure she would be quiet, he edged her behind him, training his gun from side to side in stiff-armed sweeps.
God, were those—she choked back a cry of despair when she realized—
She must have made some sound because Shepard turned his head infinitesimally in warning. What did it mean that she understood him?
Bodies. God, bodies everywhere. The smell she hadn’t been able to identify was blood. Everywhere.
This time she had to stifle a gag, because now she understood he thought whoever did this might still be there.
She twisted her fingers in the back of his shirt as she moved behind him. To the side, she saw a woman sprawled on her stomach, her back ripped and bloody. Beside her lay a small body.
She turned her head, pressed her face between Shepard’s shoulder blades. He stopped, mid-step, his muscles tight. Understanding he couldn’t move freely with her plastered against him, she eased away a little. Still, she didn’t take her eyes from the back of his neck, where sweat trailed from his neat hairline to the collar of his T-shirt. She stumbled after him, afraid to look at her feet to see what she might be stepping on.
Finally, she felt his tension ease, and he lowered the gun.
“They’re gone,” he said, keeping his voice low, sounding disappointed.Disappointed.
“What happened?” she asked, her own voice rough.
“Automatic weapons.” When he turned to look at her, his eyes were hard, flat. That hate again. “Know anyone with automatic weapons in these parts?”
