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She started down one path, afraid she was only getting farther and farther away from the villa—and more and more in danger. A twig cracked not far down the trail behind her.
A soft pop was instantly followed by leaves and bark flying up on a tree trunk next to her. Another soft pop, then a limb next to her exploded.
Someone was shooting at her!
Run!
She took off, running as fast and hard as she could, running blindly as the path twisted and turned. She could hear footfalls behind her, then another pop as a bullet buzzed past her ear and ripped through the leaves of a bush ahead of her.
She stumbled and just as she thought she might go down was grabbed from behind. An arm came around her, picking her up off her feet as a hand covered her mouth. She was jerked backward into the bushes and trees, her body slamming into the solid form of a man’s chest as he tightened his grip.
“Don’t make a sound or you’re as good as dead.” Her blood froze as she recognized the male voice that whispered at
her ear as she was dragged backward into the darkness of the dense tropical forest.
Landry Jones.
Hadn’t she known it was only a matter of time before he found her?
CHAPTER EIGHT
Landry dragged a struggling Willa St. Clair deep into the trees. She tried to bite his hand, connected several good kicks to his shins and jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow. Pain rocketed through him as she hit too close to his bandaged gunshot wound.
Angrily he tightened his grip on her and pressed his lips close to her ear. “Do that again and I will kill you myself right here.”
Keeping his hand firmly over her mouth, he dragged her a little deeper into the dense undergrowth and threw her down, pinning her to the ground as he sprawled on top of her and drew his gun with his free hand.
Her eyes blazed with anger and stark terror. Even against the odds and his threats, she still struggled to free herself. The woman was a scrapper. Under other circumstances he might have admired that.
He leaned close. “Quiet,” he whispered, and pressed his body down over hers as he listened. He thought he heard someone moving along the path not far from them. He held his breath, knowing how vulnerable he was in this position. All he could hope was that whoever was on the path didn’t spot them. He wasn’t sure he could get in a shot before someone else did.
Minutes passed. Finally he heard footfalls retreat back down the path. He waited until he was sure the person was gone before he holstered his gun and pulled Willa St. Clair to her feet. Still keeping her mouth covered, he dragged her back through the trees.
On this side of the island, the surf from the Gulf broke over the rocky shoreline. It was loud enough, it would muffle any sounds that she made. He dragged her to a short stretch of sandy beach where he’d pulled up the borrowed boat he’d hidden in the brush.
Tossing his weapon onto the duffel bag lying in the bottom of his boat, he dragged her out into the water until they were waist-deep.
“Now listen to me,” he said next to her ear. “I’m going to remove my hand from your mouth. You’re going to be smart and not scream or fight me. And then we’re going to talk. Got it?”
Her body was still rigid with stubborn determination. But she nodded and he removed his hand, knowing without a doubt what she would do.
She took a swing at him and opened her mouth to scream.
He ducked the swing, grabbed her and hurled her into the deeper water, forcing her head under before she could get out a sound. He held her there, his hand tangled in her short curly dark hair, until some of the fight went out of her, then he dragged her to the surface.
She came up spitting and sputtering, murder in her eyes.
“What part of that didn’t you get?” he demanded as he dunked her under again.
She gulped for air as he brought her up choking on the saltwater, but at the same time glaring at him. He watched her eyes and saw what she planned to do before she tried to scratch his eyes out.
He shoved her head under water again, holding her down longer this time, half-afraid he’d drown her before she’d give up. He jerked her to the surface and felt some of the fight go out of her.
“Why don’t you just kill me and get it over with,” she cried, choking and coughing as she came up. “First you shoot at me, then try to drown me?”
He shook his head. “I hit what I shoot at. If I wanted you dead, you’d already be dead. I saved your puny butt back there on the trail.”
She gave a chortle of disbelief.
