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Leading Jax and Damian off the established trail through challenging underbrush, I hold out hope to physically wear down our captor. I might not have a gun, but I know things. Specifically, I know of a clearing about a mile from here.
I hope this works.
Chapter Twenty
Jax
I know what Brooks is doing, but I don’t say it out loud.
I don’t know much about hiking or jungle trails, but this is not the way back to the hotel. I trust Brooks completely, and I know this is part of a plan.
As soon as we’re out of danger, I’m going to tell him I love him, and I don’t even care if he says it first.
When we reach the clearing, Damian blurts out, breathless, tired, and sweating, “This is not the way we came.”
Without missing a beat, Brooks replies, “Shortcut. Let’s take a water break. We’re going to need our energy for the rest of the trip. It’s shorter but uphill.”
Wow. My man is a bullshitter. Who knew?
I observe Damian as I sip my water. He looks confused and suspicious, on top of his exhaustion. Tailing me around the big city back home in an air-conditioned Suburban isn’t much training for this sort of terrain. If he weren’t trying to kidnap me at the moment, I might feel sorry for him.
I switch my gaze to examine Brooks. He looks nervously at me as we drink from our water bottles. Something is supposed to happen here, but I don’t know what.
I do know how to take a cue. I pipe up, “I gotta pee. Be right back.”
Damian perks up. “You’re not going anywhere without me, missy.”
Brooks might be nervous on the inside, but that doesn’t stop him from standing his ground. “Until she’s off this island, she’s my girlfriend, and no way are you accompanying her to the little girls’ room.”
How much do I adore this man?
As much as I’d love to watch these two men argue, I do have to pee. Disappearing behind some trees, I drag out the time as long as I can without causing suspicion. I don’t know what I’m stalling for, but it seems like Brooks is up to something, and I’m going with my gut.
The sound of a small aircraft approaches from the distance.
Then, through the treetops, Austin Fisher’s little Ce
ssna lands in the clearing, but not before very nearly clipping Damian and sending him hurtling to the ground in terror, sending his pistol sailing across the clearing. Brooks jumps him and pins him down.
Brooks shouts at me to get his pack. When I bring it to him, he’s struggling on the ground with Damian, who is bigger and meaner, if not nearly as athletic as Brooks.
“Shoot him!”
I scream, “I’ve never shot a gun!”
“Not the pistol! In my pack!” Brooks shouts.
I look inside the pack, and I see it. He means I’m supposed to shoot Damian with a tranquilizer gun.
“Wait a minute,” I say. “Why do you have this?”
“Jax.”
“You said we weren’t in any danger from the big kitties, so why—?”
“Jax! Not now!”
Oh. Right. Not the point.
