The Captive's Return

For now, he had a wall to tear down.

Sara shook off the past, difficult to do with her head nearly exploding and her stomach screaming from the jarring torture of being slung over Ramon's shoulder. Only the miner's light on his forehead pierced the opaque passageway.

All of it felt too much like the day she'd been shot.

The hammer of Ramon's boots on the soft earth thudded in time with Lucas's boots in her memory. Echoing louder, doubling like her vision. Except the second set of footsteps were faster.

Second set?

Someone was coming. Lucas. She almost didn't dare hope. Did Ramon hear? She didn't want to alert him, but certainly hoped to be heard. Talking might also cover the person's approach.

She knew in her soul that Lucas was following. She could feel his presence, closer. Not a delusional thought.

"Tio Ramon? Could you put me down, por favor? I'm having trouble breathing. My stomach hurts and if I do not take my insulin shot soon...well, I will not make much of a hostage if I die."

A valid point she thought it prudent to bring up.

"Anyone who can talk that much is breathing fine. Shut up," he growled, huffing from the exertion of carrying her.

He wasn't as fit as he liked to think with his gym workouts and high-vitamin smoothies. That vanity could help save her. More important, she wouldn't let anything happen to Lucas. "But, Tio Ramon, shouldn't you—"

"Silencio." He flung her off his shoulder and slammed her against the ground. Her head cracked against the wall.

The world went dark.

Lucas lunged toward Chavez, adrenaline kinked tight after hellish dark minutes of following in the shadows, not daring to use his flashlight, waiting for the best chance.

And now Ramon Chavez had tossed Sara like a rag doll against the ground.

The bastard would die. Lucas didn't intend to wait for backup. God only knew how long it would take to find the right demolition team to search a tunnel they considered unstable. They'd sworn it would only be a few minutes. He'd feared Sara didn't have minutes left.

He'd been correct.

Lucas slammed into Chavez, crashing them both to the ground. He hammered his fist into the man's face, dodged a blow. Chavez's Uzi skated across the tunnel floor, skidding to a stop against the wall.

Out of reach. Evening the odds.

Chavez had stolen five years from Sara, robbed him of a chance to hold his daughter as a newborn. This debt could never be repaid. But he would make damn sure Chavez never hurt anyone again. He arced his fist back again—

"Stop." Sara's voice reached to Lucas through the narrow focus of his rage, clearing his vision enough for him to see she was awake—and had Chavez's machine gun.

She jacked the weapon higher. "I swear I'll shoot and I might hit both of you, but the fight will definitely end."

Chavez froze for a split second, all Lucas needed to break free and give Sara a clear shot. He didn't know how she'd fought off unconsciousness, but he was grateful she had. And he knew without question, this woman could and would do whatever it took to get them out of this alive.

Damn. He'd always been dazzled by her. Now, he was freaking mesmerized by his wife standing with her legs planted, gun at her hip. She might be swaying in the shadowy dark, but there wasn't a chance she would fall.

A flash snagged his attention. Chavez reaching to his waistband.

A heavy silver handgun drawn.

Hell.

He should have predicted the guy would have an arsenal strapped to him. Lucas kept his eyes locked on that gun in Chavez's steady hand and willed Sara to keep the Uzi level in a standoff.

They had him outnumbered—and their judgment wasn't hampered by fanaticism. They could do this together if they stayed calm.

"Chavez, it's over. We found evidence in your compound. Nola Seabrook told us everything we needed to know about your plans." He saw uncertainty flicker and continued to push. "She was watching and listening to every word you said."

The old man was tough, but not tough enough anymore. Chavez had to know he was near the end. This whole kidnapping had "desperate last stand" written all over it. There were a thousand different tactics an experienced fighter could have chosen other than this.

Convincing Chavez he was seconds from the end shouldn't be difficult. The tougher part would be ensuring Sara stayed alive. Both of them, in fact, because he and Sara deserved a future together.

"We've got troops on the ground and in the air outnumbering and outgunning your men. The base has been secured, and teams are searching for Sara. The tunnel has soldiers at the entrance and exit." Or it would soon, but he'd once been told his stone face could out-bluff a psychic.

"Nola couldn't have known about the tunnel exit," Chavez insisted even as his hand wavered.

"Are you sure?" Lucas tensed every muscle, prepping for the right second to—

Chavez raised his gun. Lucas sprang forward. Chavez shot. In the air?

And smiled.

Dirt rained from overhead, pattering down faster and faster, dust filling his nostrils, choking him. Crap. The old tunnel was seconds away from a cave-in.

"Run," Lucas ordered, yanking Sara by the arm and turning back toward the cellar.

The ceiling collapsed on top of Chavez.

No more time to think. He could only hope the soldiers hadn't ventured into the tunnel after all. The damn thing was every bit as unstable as the Cartinian security forces had warned him.

His hold tight on Sara, Lucas raced in the opposite direction. In total darkness, no choice but to dash blind and pray they wouldn't trip. He tried to grapple for his flashlight tucked in his vest... but it must have fallen out during the fight.

He glided his free hand along the wall as a guide. No telling how long they would have to run or whether the whole thing would smother them first. But there wasn't another option as dust chased them, the earth still shuddering behind them. . .

"Lucia?" Sara gasped for breath as she sprinted alongside him, holding tight to his hand so they wouldn't risk losing each other in the dark.

Her head had to be throbbing from that fall. But he also knew she wouldn't give up as long as she had a heartbeat.

"Lucia's safe. With the crewdogs. All of them. And I was telling the truth when I said the base is secured." Dirt pattered on his head in an ominous premonition.

She squeezed his hand. "Gracias."

They would make it out of here together. Sara was every bit as determined as he was. Every bit as strong— even stronger perhaps because, hell, she was the first person to stand up to him.

A rumbling sounded again. Followed by a thud. More collapsing tunnel.

Then silence. Dusty air, but no smothering weight of dirt.

A respite.

He wouldn't delay telling her how he felt any longer, especially when the roof could cave in on them any second now. He didn't have to scavenge for the words he hadn't been able to give her in the past. Love for Sara— his wife—was the only thing that mattered to him right now. "I love you."

"I love you, too." Her breathless vow echoed along with their pounding footsteps and thumping clods of dirt.

He followed by touch around a corner and God, were those stars ahead? Not straight ahead, but above.

A wave of fresh air filled his lungs.

"Lucas!" Her voice echoed with hope.

"Got it. Hang on." They reached the end of the tunnel and the opening about six and a half feet overhead. "Up you go, wife."

He planted a hand on her perfect bottom and shoved upward. She hooked her elbows on the dirt and hefted. With a final boost, he propelled her out. She scrambled around to extend a hand for him.

Lucas started to tell her to back up, that his weight might pull her down. But he knew better now. He could never down this woman.

She wriggled her hand. "I'm not an idiot. I'm holding on to a vine with my other hand."

Of course. Smart and strong. He was a lucky man.

Lucas clasped her hand in his, braced a boot against the wall and walked up the hard-packed earth. Her face and arm went taut but he didn't even consider letting go.

Damn straight, she was strong.

He slapped his arm over, then hooked his knee, vaulting up and out. Looping his arms around Sara, he rolled away from the tunnel along the soft jungle floor, the ground above the passageway sinking until the opening sealed with a final poof of dirt.

They slammed to a stop against a bush, showering petals over them.

Panting for air, she wrapped her arm tighter around him. "What do we do now?"

"This."

He angled over and kissed her, hard, nothing gentle about the way he was feeling at the moment. After only an instant of surprised hesitation, she gave equal measure. Open mouths, emotions, passions.

The sky opened, as well, overhead, rain tapping through the trees, drenching them as they lay in the small clearing. Her arms locked around his shoulders and held, even when he rested his face in her neck. Water slicked her face, soaking their clothes, sealing them together as if nature echoed their commitment.

And wasn't that a sappy thought for a crusty old aviator like himself? More of Sara's whimsical influence.

She shook in his arms. Ah damn. He flipped from her onto his side. "Sara? Are you okay?"

"Uh-huh," came her muffled answer as she laughed.

Laughed? "I'm fine. Completely fine and alive and yes, I am probably verging on hysteria, but that's all right because we are alive."

"Yeah, we sure are." He plucked a soggy flower from her luscious hair, glistening even darker when wet.

"What do we do now?"

"We wait. I was also telling the truth in there about the troops looking for you." He cocked his head into the wind. "If you listen closely, you can even hear the approaching helicopter. They'll be able to spot us in this clearing without any problem—far safer than plunging into the jungle at night."

She tipped her face skyward. "I think I do... Yes, I hear it."

"We only have a few more minutes alone so I'd better talk fast."

He wished he'd prepared the perfect speech to win over this woman of linguistic nuances. But he hadn't. So he spoke from his heart that, thanks to Sara, he couldn't deny having any longer.

"I've said more than once that I'm a loner by nature and that's still somewhat true, but even a loner has a mate. We're already married, so that question is moot. But I want to ask you to be my wife, my lover, my partner. My friend."

His hand slid to her stomach where that amazing kid of theirs had grown. "You're already the mother of my child, but I also hope you'll be the mother of our children, if your health permits. And if not we'll adopt, because I want to build a family and a life with you so very much."

She blinked fast, tears mingling with the raindrops. "Si."

"Si? Yes?"

This lady of languages had only one word to offer?

She nodded, the chop, chop, chop of helicopter blades growing louder. Almost as loud as his heartbeat in his ears.

"That's all you have to say to the biggest outpouring of my whole life? Yes? To what?"

"To everything." She angled up to press her mouth to his, fingers tracing his shoulders up to his overly sensitive neck. "Yes, I want to be your wife, lover, partner, friend." She punctuated each of the last four words with a kiss. "I will gladly be the mother of as many children as we can have, and yes again. I can have more babies as long as I'm careful and monitored. So again, I'll say simply, si."

The MH-53 Pave Low helicopter roared overhead, bringing the conversation to an end. But they had forever.

"Si." He hooked one arm around his wife's waist and stood, raising his other hand skyward to gesture to the hovering crew.

A spotlight strobed over them, loudspeaker squawking from above before a voice from above filled the air. "Hang in there, Colonel. We're on our way." ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">