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Beast ran for her, sliding in the mud as bullets whizzed around him. He didn’t care. He didn’t know who was firing or why it was happening. All he cared about was Belinda. She didn’t move. Not even a twitch. He couldn’t see her breathing. She couldn’t be dead. She couldn’t.
“Belinda!” he roared as he slid to his knees in front of her.
He pulled the gun out of her hand, put his hands under her shoulders and dragged her up and out of the pit. She lay limply in his arms. Beast tried to wipe the mud away from her face, but there was too much on his hands. He was only making it worse. Frantically, he felt for a pulse and almost broke into tears when he found one. She was alive.
He clutched her against his chest, holding her there for a second, just one second before he had to pick her up and run for the trees.
“Beast,” someone shouted.
Beast snatched up the gun he’d taken from Belinda and aimed in the direction of the voice.
“It’s the cavalry, asshole. Try not to shoot us.”
Through the smoke billowing from the burning vehicles, two overly large forms appeared. They strode towards him, materialising like angels sent from heaven. Grunt and Harvard.
“I hope to hell you’re real,” Beast said. If this was a hallucination, he was going to shoot someone for sure.
“Good to see you alive, buddy. I knew the jungle was no match for the Beast.” Harvard crouched beside him. “How’s she doing?”
Beast looked down at Belinda. “Not good. She needs a doctor.”
Harvard pressed his comm link. “We have the targets. They’re breathing. We need immediate medical attention. Somebody want to commandeer one of those pretty press choppers?”
Beast looked up at Grunt, who towered over them, a gun in each hand, scanning their surroundings for a threat.
“What took you so long?” Beast said.
Grunt looked down at them and grunted. Harvard and Beast grinned at each other as the sound of rotor blades filled the air. Beast held Belinda tight. His mind was made up. He was never letting her out of his sight again. There was no way he’d be able to live through it. Belinda Collins was stuck with him, whether she liked it or not.
Chapter 33
Belinda woke to a wonderful realisation—she wasn’t in the jungle anymore. She knew this because the oppressive heat and heady aromas of the forest had been replaced by cool, lavender-scented air. Instead of the sound of chattering monkeys, chirping birds and buzzing insects, there was only the hum of an air conditioning unit and a gentle, distant beeping. Beneath her, the harsh textures of tree bark and dirt had been replaced by clean, soft cotton.
But more than cool air and clean sheets, the presence of a large body lying beside her made her heart race. The body was warm, solid and familiar. Belinda didn’t dare move or open her eyes for fear she was imagining things. Which, considering the fog in her head and the throbbing pain in her temples, could be a very real possibility. Her memory was hazy, coming to her in fits and starts.
She remembered clawing her way up the ladder on the side of the crater. She remembered the dead guard lying at the top of the hole, staring at her sightlessly. She remembered the ferocious fight between John and one of the Martinez brothers. Both men had been covered in mud and blood, and they’d launched themselves at each other with terrifying violence. She remembered John standing over the body of the brother as he fell. And then…the sight of the second brother, rising from the mud and pointing a gun straight at his back. She hadn’t thought. She’d only reacted. She’d snatched the gun from the man beside her and fired. After that, she remembered nothing at all.
“You might as well open your eyes. I know you’re awake.”
Belinda’s eyes popped open at the sound of the deep American accent she adored. She blinked against light that felt like ice picks stabbing into her brain and waited as his face came into focus. He was lying on his side with his head supported on his hand, and he looked at her with a dark intensity that made her smile.
“Is this real?” she said. “Did we make it out of there?”
A delicious smile softened his face and made her want to trace his lips with her fingertips. But she didn’t move, afraid it was all just a dream.
“Let’s go over it one more time,” he said. “The kidnapping was real, not fake. The rescue was real, not fake. You’re here with me now. It’s real. Not fake.” His eyes crinkled and sparkled, making her heart race.
“Where is here?”
“Cusco hospital.” He reached out and brushed the hair from her face. “You gave us a fright there for a while.”
“How long is a while?”
“Two days.” He made it sound like an eternity.
There was a cut on his cheek, taped with butterfly strips. His right eye was black and blue.
“We’re a pair,” she said. “Do you have other injuries?” She looked down his body, but couldn’t see any evidence.
