can’t do what you need me to do.”
“Then you’ll die.” A definite click echoed around them as he cocked his weapon. “Do something, Bailey. Do it now!”
That deer-in-the-headlights look captured her expression as the color drained from her face. She lifted the Beretta, jabbed it toward him as if that alone were a monumental effort.
“It’s going to take more than that. Shoot,” he commanded, “or I will.”
She trembled. Once. Twice. Her spine stiffened. “You’re bluffing,” she challenged, a glimmer of courage peeking past the fear in her eyes.
“Do you really want to take that chance? What exactly do you know about me? Are you sure you can trust me? I could kill you and who would know?” He leaned forward, putting himself nose-to-nose with her. “Who would care?”
Fury tightened her lips.
About time.
He pressed the barrel a little harder against her. “Who’s going first, Baby, you or me?”
He saw the subtle change in her eyes a fraction of a second before the resounding snap of the Beretta’s empty chamber announced that she had, indeed, depressed the trigger.
A smile slid across his face as surprise, then confusion and fear claimed her features. And here he’d worried she didn’t have it in her. “Very good, Bailey.”
The spent weapon fell from her limp fingers. “You son of a bitch.” The luster of fear disappeared from her eyes and was quickly replaced by glittering anger. “You knew it was empty. You goaded me into—” She moved in the last remaining inches between them and glared up at him. “You knew it was empty and you put me through that!”
Right on both counts. He’d known she’d used her last round and he’d worn a vest. He never went on a firing range with a newbie without sporting Kevlar. He hadn’t lived this long by being stupid. “At least we know now that you can shoot a man if you have to.”
In a metamorphosis that surprised him, she reared back and shoved hard at his chest with both hands, unbalancing him momentarily. “You are a jerk, Logan! And I’ve had enough!” Her eyes flared with fury. “Cut the cloak-and-dagger crap and tell me what’s going on! Why am I here?”
This was much more like it. He’d been waiting for her to demand some answers, had about decided it wasn’t going to happen. Damned if the woman wasn’t full of surprises.
“All right.” He tucked his weapon back into the waistband of his jeans. “Pablo Esteban is the most powerful man alive in the cocaine trade. Everybody from the CIA to DEA wants him…has tried to nail him, but he’s too clever. He never makes a mistake. Never leaves Colombia. Never gets caught in a compromising position.”
Logan erased a new line of sweat from his brow with his forearm, then rested his hands on his hips. “About a year ago he branched out into the arms trade. Now he steals military weapons and sells them to the lowlife around the globe. We’re going to stop him, but first we have to find out who’s leaking him the info on where and when to find the weapons.”
Glistening with perspiration, Bailey’s skin took on a definite greenish quality as she absorbed all that he said. Though still clearly angry, she looked on the verge of tossing her lunch. “Oh, God.”
Obviously what he’d told her was far more than she’d bargained for.
“How can we stop him?” she asked wanly.
“We’ll get to that,” Logan assured her. That was enough information for her to assimilate at the moment. “For now, just be glad you can do what you have to if the need arises.” He chucked her on the shoulder. “Surely if you can shoot me, you can shoot the bad guys.”
The reality of what she’d done seemed to hit her full force all over again. Her stance wilted. Any lingering anger dissolved, leaving those big eyes suspiciously bright. “I didn’t mean to…I just…”
He picked up her weapon, popped in a fresh clip. “Defended yourself,” he finished for her. “That’s a start.”
“Oh my…” Her hand flew to her mouth. Fainting appeared a distinct possibility.
“Sit. Put your head between your knees,” he ordered.
The sound of engines roaring in the distance drew Logan’s attention to the west. Phase two was about to begin. If she passed out now that would screw up everything.
“Who’s that?”
His gaze locked with hers. “Run!”
She stiffened, instantly alert. “What is it?”
He refused to acknowledge the renewed fear in her eyes. “Looks like the governor double-crossed me.”
She frowned, confusion overriding her fear for the moment. “What?”
He thrust the Beretta at her. “Remember, we’re wanted drug smugglers in this country. Run, dammit!”
As if in slow motion, Erin turned in the direction of the approaching sound. Three Jeeps were speeding toward them. The men inside the vehicles all wore khaki uniforms. It took another couple of seconds for her mind to wrap around the realization that it was the authorities.
Logan tugged her forward.
How far away was the camp? Two miles? They’d never make it. The Jeep they’d arrived in was more than a hundred yards away. They wouldn’t even make it that far.
A cloud of dust swept over them. Engines roaring, the vehicles surrounded them. Erin’s heart pounded harder. Logan suddenly skidded to a stop and pulled her behind him. Her mind raced with the possibilities, all too horrible to say out loud.
This couldn’t be happening.
Blackness threatened her for the second time today. She sucked in a ragged breath and fought to stay vertical and alert. Voices echoed. Logan moved in a circle, keeping her behind him as he faced the threat.
When the dust settled, more than a dozen weapons were trained on them. Erin clutched Logan’s shirt. What could they do? Nothing. They couldn’t possibly fight this many men.
“Remember everything I taught you, Bailey,” Logan muttered over his shoulder.
“Caiga sus armas!”
Erin jerked at the harsh order for them to drop their weapons.
It was over.
They were dead and it wasn’t even the seventh day.
SHE WAS STILL ALIVE.
That in itself felt like a miracle.
Erin paced the primitive cell. It was larger than the one she’d called home back in Atlanta, but lacked the modern conveniences. She glanced at what passed for a toilet and sink and grimaced. Well, at least she was alive.
She stalled in the middle of her dingy surroundings
