Page 82 of Her Reluctant Hero
Head spinning, she sat on the floor, hard. She only wanted to know where she was and if her son was on board. She glanced toward the windows that lined the room near the ceiling. Too narrow to crawl out, and even if she managed, what would she do next?
She needed to find out what hell she was sailing into.
Alex squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again, trying to focus as he stared out at the bobbing boats in the marina. His head throbbed like a son of a bitch and every bump Julian had hit from the airport to the marina in the rented Jeep had only made it worse. Julian had instructed him to stay in the Jeep and though Alex rebelled, he knew now was the time to let others do the legwork. When it came to tracking Isabella down, he needed to be ready to go. Which meant he needed to rest while his team canvassed the area.
Saldana had screwed up at the airfield. He’d probably thought no one saw him split his crew, two men taking the Lear Jet, two more plus Saldana and an unconscious Isabella taking another SUV here to the marina.
Classic decoy. Good thing the mechanic working in a nearby hangar had kept himself hidden or he might not be going home to his family this morning.
Unconscious. The mechanic’s words had been “out of it”, but Alex’s mind ran with the possibilities. She was hurt, she was drugged, she was dead.
No, Alex couldn’t believe that. Which meant that she was out there somewhere with a man who would hurt her, and she was defenseless.
His own helplessness hurt more than his damn shoulder. Now, if she was out at sea, how could he find her? She could be any damned where.
Julian pounded on the driver’s side window, making Alex jolt, then swear as pain shot through him.
“What the fuck?” Alex demanded when his friend opened the door.
“We have the boat. Fifty-foot sailboat, registered to a Javier Bustos out of Belize. The plan they filed with the harbor master said they’re heading back there, but it could be another decoy. Trouble is, they’ve got the GPS turned off. Could be anywhere.”
The longer they took to find her, the more trouble she was in.
Please God, don’t let him have taken her out to sea to dump her body. He had to see her again, had to hold her again, had to make sure she was safe before he turned away.
Isabella balanced on her toes on the narrow bunk and shoved at the latch on the window, but it was too high and she couldn’t get leverage to push it open.
She whimpered in frustration, just stopping herself from pounding the frame with her fist.
Behind her the door handle turned and she whirled. Too late to pretend she was still unconscious. Trapped. Her heart rabbited as she waited for the door to open.
The man who walked through was unfamiliar, and big. His eyes widened to see her standing on the cot. He stepped into the room and she hopped to the other side, keeping the bunk between herself and the stranger.
“Come with me.”
The big man’s voice didn’t match his body, more high pitched than Isabella expected, as if she wasn’t off balance enough. Her own voice sounded distant to her ears when she asked, “Where?”
“You are in no position to ask questions.”
Even his tone was unexpected, not unkind. But when he approached, her trembling grew out of control so she had to grip the edge of the bunk to stay upright. Was he going to throw her overboard? The only question was if he’d shoot her first, or let her drown.
She wouldn’t see her son again, or Alex. Bile bolted up her throat at the thought but she battled it back.
“I want my son.” She wondered if he could understand her through her chattering teeth. “Is my son here?” If he was, whatever she had to do to pay for running from Santiago would be worth it, if she could only see him, touch him, hold him.
Something like sympathy flickered in the big man’s eyes. “It’s better if you come with me under your own power.”
He was right. She struggled for self-control. To be forced to appear before Santiago would reveal her fear.
Still, he’d smell it on her, and feed on it.
She couldn’t let her terror overwhelm her, though it threatened to pull her under. She had escaped from his compound, dropped over the side of a cliff, run through the jungle, attempted to seduce a guard, danced for information, run from men with automatic weapons and watched the man she loved shot as he tried to save her.
She could face Santiago.
Chills ran over her body as she moved past the big man into the narrow hall. Only one way to go, with a wall to her left. Her shoulders bumped the paneled walls with each sway of the boat, so how had this big guy made it through?
“Where?” she asked, wondering which of the doors hid her biggest nightmare.
