Page 7 of Colombian Chemistry

“Find her! Now!” an ominous voice boomed.

She looked up at me and stuck out her hand. “Deal.”

With a grin, I tucked the milk under my arm and shook her hand. “Deal. Now get your ass inside my cottage.”

She didn’t doddle and hurried past me when I opened the door.

Fifty grand. If I sold the place I lived in now, it meant I could buy that piece of land I’d been eyeing up without taking anything out of my savings account. A secluded piece of land with a little cottage right on the ocean that would take me even further from the civilization I wanted nothing to do with. Not a bad trade for one day’s work. And now that I’d accepted payment, she had officially become a contract, which meant I was no longer breaking rule number one by getting involved.

I took one last glance outside my house to make sure none of the men hunting her had seen her and then shut us both inside. They’d never think to look for her in here, and even if they did, I had a hidden space I’d dug out beneath the bedroom floor for emergencies. I was nothing if not always prepared. They’d never find her.

“Get into the bedroom,” I said as I locked the door.

When I turned around, her terrified expression told me I’d given her the wrong impression.

I rolled my eyes. “Not like that. I just mean to get you away from the main door. Just keep yourself scarce until I’m sure they’ve moved on.”

She nodded quickly and started toward the only room in my place, then stopped. “Um, I’m Irene, by the way. What’s your name?”

I pulled the curtains shut on the window overlooking my kitchen. “I’m John,” I lied.

“Nice to meet you, John. Thanks for doing this.”

“Just do exactly what I say when I say it, and you’ll be fine.”

She nodded, and her full lips pulled up into a soft smile. “I will. I promise.”

Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump.

What in the holy hell was wrong with my pulse tonight? That was twice it had sped to racing in the span of ten minutes. I was only thirty-six, and I was in peak physical shape, so I couldn’t imagine it was heart problems, but maybe I needed to get the old ticker checked out if it kept up.

“I’ll be in here until you tell me to come out.”

She smiled again, and my damn pulse jumped up.

Maybe I didn’t need a doctor after all. I think I knew exactly what was causing my heart to race... now I just needed to know why.

CHAPTER THREE

Irene

––––––––

We hit another bump on the narrow, winding road taking us up through the mountains. I cringed at the pain the seats caused my ass. From the multiple rust spots on the bright blue hunk of junk, I assumed the seats had likely lost their springs a couple decades ago. But at least it seemed capable of trekking up the never-ending mountain on the barely existent dirt road. A dirt road that went higher and higher, causing my stomach to twist into even tighter knots with each foot we climbed. I glanced out my window at the jungle below growing smaller by the second, then wished immediately I hadn’t.

Please don’t let us slide off. Please don’t let us slide off.

My fear of heights screamed its presence inside me as we continued bumping up the road; if you could even call the muddy tracks a road. Never in a million years would I have agreed to ride in a beat-up Jeep up a mountain if it wasn’t the only way to get me to the US Embassy... the one place that could hopefully help me make sense of the predicament I’d landed myself in.

Another thing I’d never in a million years have imagined. Me, Irene Saltzman, was on the run from a drug cartel being escorted by some kung fu fighting hottie across the Columbian jungle. It had taken all my gumption just to overcome my fear of flying to get on the plane to visit my father at his new place, and now that I was here, the fear of flying seemed the least of my concerns. Now I had to choose what part of this experience was the most terrifying.

The cartel guys trying to kill me? The fact I was on a freaking mountain in the jungle? Or the fact I was in a car with a stranger who could definitely kill me in an instant and leave my mangled corpse for the jaguars to dine on.

I glanced over at him, and my eyes fixated on the bulge in his pants... and it wasn’t because he was happy to see me. It was a gun. I was riding in a Jeep in the jungle with an armed man I’d known for less than twenty-four hours. A long gulp slid down my throat as I tried to calm myself down again.

If he wanted to hurt you, he would have already. He’s helping you.

I’d been repeating that to myself over and over, hoping eventually I would believe it. But it had to be true to some extent. He had saved my life twice, and he’d had ample opportunity to end my life if he’d wanted. God knows with how I’d seen him fight that I wouldn’t stand a chance if he turned those skills on me. I’d go down like a lead balloon.