answer. “I’m with law enforcement. That’s all you need to know.” His voice sounded reassuring, almost gentle, but that didn’t mean anything. His caring response might just be a manipulation.
How could she trust he was telling the truth? He’d lied about not knowing why the assassin was here. This was too much. She felt as though her already fragile world had been shaken to pieces. She wasn’t in the habit of dodging bullets. Her legs weakened beneath her, and she collapsed into a chair.
He rushed over to her. “You all right?” He knelt on the floor so he could look her in the eye.
She thought she saw compassion in those dark brown eyes, but she didn’t trust her own judgment anymore, not after Eric. “No...” Her voice faltered. “No, I’m not.”
Dragging a chair across the floor, he sat opposite her. “Look, I’m sorry about all of this. I can’t explain everything to you, and I know you think I’m lying. This is my fault. None of this would have happened if I hadn’t switched cabins.”
“What are you saying? That man came here to kill you?” Anger coursed through her veins. Lie upon lie. “So he’s not just some random crazy who decided to make sport of hunting us down and killing us, like you said before.” What if Diego was no better than the man out there? He didn’t act like a cop.
“I’m asking you to trust me. I will get you out of here alive.” He didn’t break eye contact with her.
She didn’t know what to think or believe. He seemed so sincere. She couldn’t survive on her own. The man with the gun had made it clear he wanted her dead. Right now, staying with Diego was her only option. “How are we going to do that?”
Diego bolted to his feet and started pacing. “We need a way off the island. We need to keep George from becoming a target, too.”
“We can’t stay in here.” She stepped toward the door.
He grabbed her arm and pulled her back. “You can’t just run out there. Let’s make sure the coast is clear first.”
She yanked away from him, fighting off a rising frustration. “None of this would have happened if you had stayed in your assigned cabin. That man wouldn’t have showed up and—”
He turned to face her, eyes like steel. “And killed me. While you slept. You would have been unharmed and unaware, but I would have been dead.”
A rush of remorse filled her. “I didn’t mean it that way. Of course I don’t want you to have died so I could have a good night’s sleep,” she said. Her face warmed. She was ashamed for having said that. “I’d never wish anyone dead.”
“I’m alive and you’re alive and we’re together. I can’t help but see God’s protection in all this.” The intensity of his gaze made her take a step back. Eric had sat with her in church every Sunday. Her faith had been the final casualty of Eric’s deceit. But she hadn’t ever heard someone talk about God the way Diego did.
“God? I don’t think He has anything to do with this.” Her voice lacked commitment, compared to the passion she’d heard in his. She studied his face. Some unnamed emotion stirred in her gut. Whoever this man was, either his faith was real or he was a better deceiver than Eric.
Diego’s expression changed as he whirled around, scanning the forest through the dusty windows. An instant later, gunshots shattered the glass. His body enveloped hers, taking her to the floor.
He rolled off her, the warmth of his protection fading.
“Stay down,” he said.
Another window shattered. The flying shards of glass were too clear a reminder of the car accident. Her vision narrowed. She couldn’t move. Her brain fogged. She was shutting down, caught between painful memories and the terrifying present. She felt the strength of Diego’s hands guiding her, almost carrying her as the bullets tore through furniture.
She found herself propped in a corner behind a couch. Diego crouched low and crawled toward one of the broken windows. He peered above the sill, took a shot and dived back down.
Several more shots tore through the tiny room. Samantha pressed hard against the wall. She couldn’t stop shaking.
Diego took several more carefully aimed shots before he dived to the floor, resting his back against the wall.
Samantha’s breath hitched. She counted to five as dust settled around her. The silence was almost as scary as the gunfire. It probably meant the shooter was finding a better angle of attack.
Her throat had gone dry. “Did...you get him?”
He lifted his head above the sill. “I’m not sure. Maybe he’s just repositioning. Far as I know, he’s only got a handgun. He can’t be too far away if he wants to get a decent shot in.”
Invisible weight pressed on her chest as she struggled to breathe.
He scrambled across the floor. “We should make a break for it.” He hesitated in his step as he registered that he saw how badly she was shaking. “Hey, it’s okay.” He pressed her hands between his. “Most people don’t handle gunfights well.”
Her impulse was to pull away, but his touch and the kindness she heard in his voice had a calming effect on her. “All this is hard to deal with, but it is the...the sound of breaking glass that messes me up.” She met his gaze. The swell of compassion she saw in his expression made her legs weak all over again. She wanted to believe that he was a good man.
His eyes searched hers. “You’ll have to tell me sometime why that bothers you more than gunfire.”
Another gunshot zinged through the broken window. Both of them crumpled to the floor. “He’s getting closer. Let’s get out of here.” Diego reached up and turned the doorknob. “Use the building for cover. Stay close to me.”
The night air chilled her skin as she pressed close to Diego’s back. The soft fabric of his sweater brushed over her cheek. He pulled her into his side and put a protective arm across her torso while he surveyed the woods around them.
She peered over his shoulder, watching the forest. Her eye caught a flash of movement, the killer racing from the cover of one tree to another. “There,” she said. He was dressed in black and had recovered the ski mask that hid his face.
Diego grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the shelter of the trees. Again they fled. Though this time they had the benefit of early-morning light. After they’d run only a short distance, Diego headed away from the camp. Where was he going?
When he peered over her shoulder, his expression transitioned from pensive to fearful. He lunged toward her, pulled her to the ground. The impact on the hard rocks made her shudder with pain.
The bullet that hit a rock near her feet told her the plunge had been necessary. She looked up in the direction the shot had come from. The killer was there, barely hidden by the shadow of the trees.
“Let’s go.” He helped her to her feet.
“Aren’t we going to warn George?” she asked.
“Too risky. We’ll have to double back after we shake the shooter.”
They
