Please, God, no.
She reached her nephew and buried her face in his hair, smelling of little boy as she embraced him. “Have you seen your uncle Hez?”
He nodded toward a side passage. “He’s somewhere down there. I got away from the guards and hid here. The dogs found me when Uncle Hez and the other guys were able to get into the house. He shot one of the guards, but I don’t know where he is now. The guys with him will keep him safe. I think they’re CIA or something.”
Her mind filled with a horrific image of Hez lying dead in a pool of blood. She shook it away. The thought could paralyze her, and she had to find him. “Stay here. I’ll be back soon.”
She edged along the hallway and passed through a large open room. Marley followed her despite her whispered order to stay with Simon. She spotted several motionless figures face down on the rich carpet. The acrid smell of gunsmoke hung in the air. It was too dark to determine if they were Hornbrook’s men or the rescuers. She squinted in the dark. Where were Hez and Hornbrook?
The hall turned a corner and she heard shouted curses fromthat direction. Hornbrook’s voice. Bright light poured from an open door. Blinking and crouching low, she moved that way and spotted two figures struggling on the floor of a small room lined with racks of wine bottles.
Hornbrook, his face distorted in a fierce snarl, was on top of Hez with both hands around Hez’s neck.
Hez clawed at Hornbrook’s fingers with his right hand. A red puddle spread out from under Hez’s left shoulder.
She had to help him, but how? She needed a weapon! She ran into the room and yanked a bottle from one of the shelves. Hez’s face was nearly purple now, and she slammed the bottle down with all her strength on top of Hornbrook’s head. It shattered, then he toppled over onto his side and his hands fell off Hez’s throat.
Hez choked in a gasp of air, and Savannah started to go to his side, but Marley let out a snarl. A volley of frantic barking followed, and she turned to see Hornbrook, his face a grimace of hate and rage, getting to his hands and knees.
She swung the shattered bottle, hitting him in the neck. Blood fountained from a severed artery.
Hornbrook grabbed his neck and tried to stagger to his feet, but he collapsed and lay motionless.
She rushed to kneel by Hez and helped him sit up and lean against her. The solid feel of him against her brought tears of relief rushing to her eyes, and she hugged him.
He gasped in oxygen. “Simon?” he whispered.
“He’s safe.” She glanced at the blood pooling under Hornbrook’s head. “I think Hornbrook is dead.”
He noticed her weapon and gave a faint grin. “Never thought a wine bottle would save my life.” He pulled away and tried tostand. His face was pale, and the bullet had torn through the outside of his shoulder. “Let’s get out of here. There might be more guards on the way.”
She helped him up. “This way.”
They reached Simon’s hiding place. “Uncle Hez, you’re okay!” He ran to hug Hez around the waist. “You saved us.”
Hez winced as he put one arm around Simon. “Thank your aunt Savannah. She let us know where you were.” He shot a tender and proud glance her way.
Two men in black burst into view. “Let’s get out of here. I think we eliminated all four of them. This way.”
They left the house and hurried down the pier. The Special Ops guys steadied the Zodiac for them to climb aboard. Hez pointed out a fishing boat’s lights ahead. “We’re joining up with that fishing boat.”
The little craft’s powerful engine rapidly closed the distance to the fishing vessel. Savannah squinted in the dark and gaped at the figure standing at the rail. Michael? She couldn’t wait to hear about the chain of events that had led to this moment. God had to have orchestrated it.
Michael leaned over the rail and waved. “Thank you for saving my grandson.” His voice was choked. “Now let’s get out of here and back on solid ground.”
Hez leaned against the gunwale in the fishing boat’s darkened bow with Savannah snuggled against his right side. The little ship chugged along at what he guessed was top speed, sending a gentle sea breeze over them. The fresh salty scent wasa welcome change from the smell of rancid fish in the muggy cabin.
The captain had switched off the lights as soon as they returned from Hornbrook’s island to make the small ship less visible to Venezuelan authorities. The night was moonless but clear, and the Caribbean stars hung so low that Hez thought he could almost reach up and grab one.
“You were amazing back there,” she said, her voice barely audible above the rush of water against the hull. They were alone, but the boat was small.
He stroked her cheek. “You too.” All he could manage was a hoarse whisper through his damaged vocal cords. “Hornbrook tackled me after I got this.” He touched his now-bandaged left shoulder. “If you hadn’t taken him out, I’d be dead on the floor of his walk-in wine fridge.” He gave her a squeeze. “I’m glad you didn’t stay in the Zodiac like I asked.”
She shivered despite the blood-warm air. “I don’t want to think about what could have happened—or what did happen. I-I’m glad I stopped him, but the blood...” She stopped and swallowed. “I keep seeing it in my head.”
“He chose his path, babe. If you hadn’t been there, I’d be dead instead.”
She looked up at him, her face ethereal and silver in the starlight. Her eyes glimmered with tears. “God brought us through safely. And I’m so thankful. I’m never going to let you go.”
