Julian.
Mena had to come clean and tell Julian the truth. She’d kept it from him for too long, thinking she could handle this situation on her own. Michael had been delusional and dangerous tonight. If Lucy hadn’t shown up with the guard, Mena knew that Michael would have raped her.
She hated to put more pressure on Julian with everything he was up against fighting Priscilla Dumay, but she was completely out of options. She had a chance to tell him the truth when he’d proposed to her on the secluded beach in St. Killian. In hindsight, she should have told him how much she wanted to be his wife, but that a legal glitch caused her to still be married to Michael. It seemed so reasonable now, but back then, she’d panicked. All she could think about was losing Julian because of Michael. She’d thought getting a divorce would be simple. She was wrong. Months later, she was still lying to Julian and Michael was getting closer and closer to revealing the truth to the world.
What would Julian do when she told him the truth? He would be angry and upset at her for the lies she’d told. The one thing she knew without any doubt was how important trust was to Julian. He’d trusted her with his deepest, darkest secret. A secret that could land him in prison for the rest of his life. Yet she hadn’t done the same. She’d kept her secret hidden, choosing not to trust in him or his love to help her deal with it. That fact would be a devastating blow to their relationship. One that could end them for good.
Mena was out of choices. If she didn’t tell Julian, Michael would. If she did and Julian hated her for her lies, then it wouldn’t matter that she was still legally married. But there was a chance that Julian would still love her and support her. That he would help her fight Michael and get the divorce so she could marry Julian.
The buzz of her cell phone startled her. Grabbing it from the counter, she saw the Palmchat Islands Alert scrolling across the screen.
Dread seeped through her as she read the text:Escaped inmate Julian Montgomery has been spotted in St. Mateo. He is considered armed and dangerous. Stay inside until the inmate is apprehended.
Chapter Forty-Two
Julian moved before his brain even registered his actions. Legs pumping, he sprinted toward the open French doors of the balcony. Pressing his hands against the smooth stone, he propelled his body upward, straddling the balustrade. A quick glance back.
Law enforcement clad in combat gear. Jackets brandishing the letters SWAT. Guns raised, the cops screamed at him to freeze. Do not move.
Do.
Not.
Move.
Julian exhaled, swinging his other leg over the edge, then free fell to the ground as a round of bullets whizzed overhead. Sparks from the gunshots ricocheted off nearby trees. Bracing himself for impact, he allowed his body to relax. The impact was harder than he’d expected, but he’d trained for longer falls than a two-story drop. His body rolled over and over until he came to a stop near the edge of the jungle.
Without another thought, he burst forth through the wide leaves and plunged into the dark abyss of the St. Mateo jungle. Ducking, he kept low. Legs churned through the brush, scratching and clawing at his skin. Zigzagging, he was losing ground, running blind hoping the full moon would penetrate the dense foliage to give him a chance to figure out which direction he should run. The earth was thick and muddy beneath his feet, sucking his combat boots deeper into its depths.
Slowing him down.
Precious seconds needed.
If he was going to get away.
Trampled footsteps and shouts permeated the air behind him. The manhunt to capture him. By any means necessary. Beams of light bounced off the trees and foliage from the SWAT Team’s flashlights. Quick moments of illumination, enough for Julian to adjust his trajectory. A plan forming in his mind. A way to escape.
On a mission, he would have prepared for the worst-case scenario. Taken the time to study the terrain. Planned a tactical escape route, or two or three, of least likely detection. SEALs always trained to failure. Anticipated anything and everything that could go wrong. He hadn’t had that luxury.
All he had were his instincts.
A decade of SEAL missions capturing terrorists at his disposal.
But more importantly, years of dirtboarding down these mountains towering over the Valley of Waterfalls with Broman etched into his mind.
Ripping through the trees, he banged against brush and thorns as he increased his speed.
The heady, fragrant scent of flowers clung in the air, suffocating and thick.
Adrenaline boosted into overdrive as the terrain grew steep and rocky.
The footsteps were fainter, fanning out to cover more of the jungle, but still committed to tracking him. The loud barks of dogs joining the chorus of chaos closing in on him.
The jungle shifted vertically, heading up the mountain. A quick glance to his left and he saw a path down the cliff side toward the creek below.
He took the road less traveled. Grabbing rocks and branches, he hauled himself up the mountain. Hands stinging from the scrapes and scratches, bounding higher until the sounds were faint behind him. The night air was brisk and clean. He gulped breaths, took a swipe at the sweat pouring down his face and into his eyes, then maneuvered toward a wide tree growing horizontally from a crevice in the mountain rock.
Hidden from view, Julian rested against the tree, his back flat against its trunk.
