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  “He’s got his Carolina Skiff tied to the dock. Looks like he’s ready for you.”

  “What if I’m not ready for him?”

  “It’s too late. There’s no turning back now.” Jonas climbed from the car, leaving Cara to question her sanity as the rain continued to drown the landscape.

  Why had she gotten the notion to hop on an international flight and take a jaunt to Columbia in the first place? She’d never even left the country before. If she’d listened to common sense, she would’ve been snug inside her apartment, sipping hot cocoa and enjoying a suspense novel instead of running for her life.

  Too bad common sense had lost, and she’d boarded that plane.

  Jonas jogged to the end of the dock and bent low to speak with the man in the boat. The two shook hands, and then Jonas ran back toward the car. After opening the back door, he tugged out her suitcase. “All set. Let’s go.” He called over the drumming of rain.

  Cara gave up all notions of trying to stay dry, and exited. The downpour instantly soaked her. Cold rainwater flowed from her head all the way down to saturate the insides of her tennis shoes. She shivered, hoping she wouldn’t catch pneumonia before all was said and done.

  Ducking her head, she followed Jonas to the dock, careful not to slip on the wet boards. A small boat floated several feet below the dock’s surface, the shadowed owner standing steady within.

  “The tide’s out.” Jonas gestured toward the low water. “You’ll have to climb down the ladder.”

  Cara couldn’t see any ladder, other than a crooked piece of wood nailed about halfway down. Not a fan of heights, her nerves pinched tight and the base of her skull began to throb. Cold, wet, and miserable, she shook from the inside out. And, she hadn’t even set foot inside the boat yet. She wondered what Jonas would think if she refused to get in.

  Jonas tossed the suitcase. The man caught it between his large hands. Although she couldn’t make out his features hidden beneath a hooded raincoat, his expansive shoulders and tall stature couldn’t be disguised.

  Cara’s throat dried. He looked intimidating even as she stood several feet above him. She leaned close to Jonas. “Are you sure about this?”

  “Don’t worry. He’ll take good care of you.” He smoothed back the hair plastered to her face before pulling her into a tight hug. “I’ll be in touch.”

  Jonas released her and jogged away without looking back.

  A wind gust swept around Cara, replacing his warmth with a cold emptiness. What if he didn’t return? Gut wrenching fear took hold. Why hadn’t she told him to be careful? What if…

  She took a step toward his retreating back.

  “Let him go.” A man’s stern voice halted her.

  She jerked her gaze toward the man in the boat. His face was hidden in shadows, but he held up his hand as if to guide her.

  “Turn around and step onto the ladder.”

  She hesitated. Perhaps she’d feel a little more at ease if she could see his features, but aside from asking him to remove his rain gear and shine a light on his face she could do nothing about it.

  She glanced again toward the parking lot. Jonas was gone.

  “You’re going to have to trust me eventually. Might as well start now.” He shouted over the relentless rain.

  He had a point.

  Lord, help me.

  Cara shivered as she twisted around and found her footing on the makeshift ladder. She eased lower, but before she contacted the second rung, strong hands grasped her waist and plucked her backwards. She lost her grasp on the dock and felt only air beneath her. Dark water swirled below, and she screamed.

  The man hauled her back against his hard chest and she slid down his length until her feet reached the boat. His arm encircled her waist, and his warm breath brushed her neck as he bent low. “Maybe next time I touch you, you won’t feel the need to scream.”

  “Don’t count on it.” Cara wriggled from his grasp. She sank onto a cushioned seat as her wobbly legs gave out.

  He shoved the boat away from the dock and then sat beside her. He cranked the engine and set the boat in motion. The faint lights at the ramp faded, and an all-encompassing darkness enveloped them. Cara could hardly see her hands in front of her, much less the creek ahead, yet the man set the throttle wide open.

  “We’re going to hit something.” Fear took hold and she clutched at the first thing she could reach, which happened to be the man’s leg.

  He sucked in a breath and groaned as he peeled away her fingers. “Don’t do that again.”

  With nothing to ground her, Cara expected to go flying from the boat at any second. Rain felt like lead pellets hitting her body, stinging every ounce of her exposed flesh. “Will you please slow down?”

  He mumbled something, but did as she asked. “I can do this blindfolded.”

  Something told her he probably had done this with closed eyes, even if just to prove he could. His thigh and shoulder pressed against hers, and his warmth penetrated her cold skin. She edged the other way.

  “Keep scooting away from me and you’ll end up in the water.” His voice rose above the rain, wind and engine’s roar.

  She stilled, and then looked to her left side. Sure enough, less than two feet away, the water rushed past the boat’s side. If she fell in, would he stop for her? She had yet to see his face, but she could imagine his scowl. Not only had she screamed when he’d attempted to help her into the boat, but she was acting as if he had cooties.

  He took a sharp turn to the left, and Cara forced herself not to grab at him again. They had to be getting close, right?

  True to his word, they took several winding turns through the creek without running aground. Lights shone in the distance, and the form of a two story house appeared out of the darkness.

  Thank You, Lord.

  She couldn’t make out many details, but at least it would be warm and dry inside. She hoped.

  3

  Gage steered the boat toward the dock and eased back on the throttle until the engine idled. Rain had slipped into his coat’s edges, leaving his clothes just as wet as those covering the shivering woman next to him.

  He might’ve felt sorry for her, but her fingers digging into his left leg had killed all sense of compassion. Not that she could’ve known his bones had been shattered by a ruthless butcher. Now, that same man was after her.

  Gage looked over at Jonas’s sister. He couldn’t make out the color of her long hair or her rounded eyes. But, her striking features would attract any man’s attention. He shuttered at what Mercado and his men would do to her if they had the chance. Did she have any idea of the danger she was in?

  He eased the boat into the slip and cut the engine. His leg had throbbed before Cara’s iron grip, now the pain had risen to an excruciating level, and it took him longer than usual to secure the ropes to the cleats. By the time he finished, his entire leg burned as if flames had ignited under his skin.

  Gage turned to help Cara out, but she hauled herself up on her own. She hugged her arms around her middle and pointed to her suitcase. “Would you mind?” Her voice shook as much as the rest of her.

  Rain continued to pelt them, and his body was telling him it’d had enough strain for one day. Still recovering from a series of extensive orthopedic operations, he’d learned to utilize tools as needed. He slid his cane out from under the seat and used it to get to the stern. Without preamble, he grabbed the suitcase and flung it up on the dock. Then, he maneuvered his own way onto the wooden planks.

  He struggled with his recently stilted gait, but he didn’t want to look weak in front of anyone, much less the woman he’d been entrusted to protect. He tried his best to hide the pain. As if the rods and screws installed beneath his flesh had worked themselves loose, each step posed more challenge than the last.

  Concentrating on getting himself to solid ground, he hadn’t paid attention to the woman. She stood where he’d left her. His mood had not been pleasant since Jonas’s initial phone
call. Now, it was downright surly. What did she want? An invitation?

  “You coming?” He sounded gruff, but he didn’t care. He wanted to be warm and dry. And he needed his pain medication.

  She picked up her suitcase, and walked with her head and shoulders slumped as if heading to the gallows.

  With a stab of guilt, Gage turned and hobbled up the sandy beach toward the back porch, trying to imagine himself in her shoes. She must be as cold and wet as he, if not more so, and if she had any sense at all she’d be frightened to wit’s end with Mercado after her. Not to mention the fact she was alone on an island with a stranger.

  How much had Jonas told her about him? Perhaps enough to make her hesitate coming near. Maybe that’s why she’d shied away from him on the boat.

  Empathy seeped through, and he reminded himself something he’d been taught growing up. Treat others as you’d want to be treated. He drew in a calming breath, muttered a prayer for patience to a God he was no longer sure cared, and gave himself a moment to erase the scowl from his face.

  Gage managed his way up the two steps to the covered porch, turned, and held out a hand. “Gage McKenna. I supposed Jonas told you we work together?”

  She placed her delicate hand in his. “Cara Dalton. Yes, he did.” She slipped her hand from his as if his mere touch threatened her existence.

  He held onto his patience the best he could, intending to say something nice, something to ease her fears. But, when Cara focused on his injured leg and the wooden cane holding him up, his devastated pride won out over hospitality.

  ****

  Cara squeezed tighter underneath the porch’s small covering and brought her gaze up from the cane Gage held. His shadowed features looked as sour as her soggy clothes. With full lips turned down, and dark brow forming a deep V at the bridge of his nose, he looked ready to kill something, or someone.

  “The only reason you’re here, is because I owe Jonas my life.” His tone reflected the glare on his angular features.

  Cara raised a brow. If he’d expected her to be intimidated, he was sorely mistaken. “I figured as much.” She remembered Jonas’s warning about not showing the man pity. She could do that. “I don’t want to be here either.” She passed him, taking good measure not to brush against him as she entered the house.

  He made a noise, something between a scoff and a snort, stepped in behind her and slammed the door.

  The back entrance led into a small mudroom, occupied with a white tiled floor and a stacked washer and dryer. Cara’s gaze lingered on the dryer. She plucked at her heavy, sodden sweater and longed to have on dry clothes. But, that luxury would have to wait. Even the clothes inside her suitcase were probably drenched.

  Gage set aside his cane and peeled off his rain coat, revealing a head full of dark hair, and a short, scruffy beard. His wet jeans lay plastered to muscular legs, and his long-sleeved shirt looked like a second skin on broad shoulders and a sculpted chest.

  She should stop staring. After all, she stood before him with wet clothes clinging to her skin as well, and she didn’t particularly want him to notice.

  He dropped onto a bench and peeled off his right boot. When he leaned forward to remove his left, he stopped mid-way and let out a guttural groan. He sat back upright, fisted his hands and closed his eyes.

  On instinct, Cara crouched in front of him to assist.

  “Touch my boot and you’ll sleep outside,” he growled.

  She drew back. How had he known what she’d intended when he couldn’t even see her? “You have a sixth sense or something?”

  “Or something.” He opened his eyes. His blue irises matched hers in color, but the determination in his outshone hers.

  “Suit yourself.” She stood and picked up her suitcase. “Which way to my room?”

  “Second floor. Third door on the left.”

  She left him sitting on the bench and headed farther inside, unsure which way to find the stairs but wanting nothing more than to have some time alone. She stepped into a spacious living room. A stone fireplace served as the central focal point, with a beige-colored wraparound sofa aimed toward it. A bookshelf filled with various paperbacks and hardcover books occupied one side of the room, while a set of tall windows covered with curtains took up much of the other. To the right, a stairway lined with a beautiful dark-cherry wood railing led to the second floor.

  “Before you go to bed, we need to get something straight.”

  Cara jumped and whirled around. Gage stood behind her. He’d managed to remove the other boot, but his face had blanched white.

  “You move and look like a ghost.”

  “I would’ve been one if it hadn’t been for your brother.” His voice sounded strained, and perspiration lined his forehead, a clear indication of his pain. “For that, I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe. But, you’re going to have to follow my rules and you’re not going to like them.”

  Cara let her suitcase drop to the floor and crossed her arms. “Is that so?”

  He simply nodded. “For whatever reason, Mercado is after you, and I can tell you from experience, he intends to kill you. It’s my job not to let that happen.”

  4

  Cartagena, Columbia

  “I thought I made myself clear last night.” Alejandro Mercado set aside his wife’s hair, revealing a large, purple bruise along her neck. He ran his thumb across the swollen area. “Yet, you dare ask me again?”

  She dipped her head, concealing those lovely violet eyes he’d once found so appealing. “I just—”

  He squeezed his fingers against her tender flesh. “Am I to make myself clear again, Eve?”

  “N-no sir.”

  “Look at what I have provided for you.” His gaze lifted from his wife’s quaking form, to scan all that his home encompassed. His ten bedroom palace and gated compound had come at a high price, and what did he get for his efforts?

  Insubordination.

  “I see beauty surrounding me.” Eve’s voice wavered.

  “Since you have provided an heir, I don’t need you anymore.” He inhaled, breathing in scents of the chlorinated pool where his son splashed and played.

  “I am aware of this.”

  “Then don’t ever tell me how to raise my son again.” He shoved her aside, and she scattered away.

  “Papa! Look!” Carlos ducked under the water and retrieved a diving stick.

  Alejandro smiled, and gave his six year old a long applause. “Well done.” He settled onto a patio chair. He picked up the remainder of his meal, a generously buttered piece of arepa, and took a large bite. He chewed slowly, savoring the flavors he loved. Although he spent many of his days in the United States, he preferred Columbian life and its cuisine.

  “One day, this will all be yours,” he announced, pleased with all he had done with his empire and all he could pass down.

  His time to reflect didn’t last long. One of his many guards appeared at his side. “Mr. Mercado. Santiago and Rafael have arrived.”

  “Wait with them until I’m ready.”

  The guard nodded and immediately obeyed.

  Alejandro took his time. His two bumbling nephews could swelter in the heat for all he cared. If they were not his blood, he would’ve taken them out a long time ago. But for the sake of his departed brother, he kept the two on hand. He fed them. Supported them. All he asked in return was complete loyalty. Anything less would not be tolerated.

  He emptied his glass of iced tea, and stood. “It’s time for your studies, Carlos.”

  Wide brown eyes lit up. “Do I get to learn with you again, Papa?”

  Although Carlos could learn a thing or two from this meeting, Alejandro kept to his original plan. “Not this time.”

  “All right.” Carlos climbed from the pool, grabbed a towel, and slipped inside the house.

  Alejandro beamed with pride. His son would make a fine leader one day. After all, one must learn to submit to authority before becoming the one in charge. Yes
. Carlos would serve him well in the future.

  Alejandro headed in the opposite direction, across the patio and into his separate office building. Some things had to be done in complete isolation. With his numerous outbuildings, he had no trouble concealing whatever he wished from his son’s and his wife’s prying eyes.

  He entered his office and cool air surrounded him, easing his physical discomfort. But, his mind took on all the stresses he’d encountered recently. During his last visit to the village, he’d taken care of a distasteful problem, but things had heated up, and he’d come closer than ever to being detained. He vowed it would never happen again, and he would dispose of anyone he deemed as a potential threat. Even if it was some silly American tourist who’d stumbled upon the wrong place at the wrong time.

  Once settled into his leather desk chair, he pressed the intercom’s button. “Send them in.”

  Santiago, the taller and older of his nephews entered the room first. Rafael followed close behind.

  Alejandro eyed Rafael’s long hair pulled into a ponytail at the base of his neck. “I told you to cut that thing off.”

  “Yo habria pero…” Rafael began.

  “I also told you to speak only in English.”

  “Oh yes. Of course.” Rafael tugged at his hair. “I thought it best if—”

  “I am not paying you to think.” Alejandro slammed a fist onto the desk, rattling his laptop and sending papers fluttering to the floor. “Come here.”

  Rafael shuffled forward, his head hanging low like a scolded dog.

  Alejandro grabbed the ponytail and shoved Rafael’s face against the desk. A loud, sickening thud permeated the room. “You dare disrespect me?”

  “It was my fault.” Santiago spoke. “I told him to wait until after we returned.”

  Idiots. Alejandro was surrounded by them. “The next time I see you, Rafael, you’d better be bald.” He released his hold and sank back onto his seat. Both men standing before him had paled. Good. The more they feared him, the better. “Where is the woman? What is her name?”