Course of Action: The Rescue: Jaguar Night / Amazon Gold. Merline Lovelace
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upward. Aly touched the wall once. It was concrete and it was wet and damp beneath her fingers. The Marine, she swore, was more shadow than man. He seemed to check his stride for her sake. He was over six feet tall, his legs long, and her stride was a lot less than his. She breathed through her mouth, trying to remain quiet.
Aly felt Patterson slow down. She couldn’t see anything but blackness ahead of them. But at least he could see for them. His hand moved to hers and then to her arm. He pulled her to his side. The scent of his sweat entered her flared nostrils as she stood tensely. She wanted to ask what was wrong, but didn’t dare speak. And then he put his arm around her shoulders, tugging her against his body, slowly moving forward, mincing steps.
Her boot sank into mud. Aly gasped as she suddenly fell forward. She threw out her hands. Patterson caught her, firmly brought her against him. Panic went through Aly as she found it tough to pull her boot out of the hole and the exposed roots. She couldn’t see them, but she felt them. Finally, her foot freed and she sucked in a ragged breath as he took her forward. They were on earth now, no longer in the tunnel.
Just having his arm around her made Aly feel so much better. He seemed to monitor how much pressure he placed against her as he weaved and bobbed through and around things she simply couldn’t see. There was no moon. No nothing except to rely on the Marine.
Aly had no idea how far they had gone tucked together that way when he stopped, released her and turned to her. She could feel his powerful presence, swore she could even feel the heat radiating off his body. “I want you to sit down. I need to get my other ruck. It’s near this tree you can’t see.”
His voice was low, not a whisper. Aly nodded and sat. The seat of her pants quickly got soaked on the decomposed earth. She felt him kneel very close to her.
“I need you to drink water from my CamelBak,” he told her, finding her hand, guiding it to the tube affixed to his shoulder epaulet. “Drink a lot. We’re going to be traveling as fast as you can go for a long time. All right?”
His voice was gravelly but warm. Aly could tell he was concerned about her. She gripped the hose. “All right,” she whispered hoarsely, her voice rough since Duarte’s attempt to strangle her to death. After drinking a lot, her throat hurting, she said, “I’m done. Thank you.”
He moved away without a word.
How relieved Aly was. They were out of that hellish place! She heard very little but thought she knew where the Marine was. Rubbing her face, she tried to collect herself.
“Here,” he said, picking up her hand. “NVGs. Put them on. Do you know how?”
Aly felt helpless. She hated the feeling. “No...sorry...”
“Don’t be,” he rasped, settling them around her eyes and making sure the strap fit enough, but not too tightly around her head. Lifting her hand, he said, “There’s a switch here. Push it forward. It turns them on.”
The instant she did, she saw everything around her. She gasped softly. “I can see!”
He chuckled. And watched her as he unwound and walked over to a huge ruck that he hefted onto his broad back. He belted it up, turned and held out his hand to her.
Aly slipped her hand into his large, callused one. He easily helped her to her feet, but didn’t let go. Instead he pulled her closer and turned her so there was about a foot between them. He had something in his hand.
“This is a radio,” he told her, settling it around her left ear, fitting it and then pulling the small microphone near her lips. He turned it on. “If we get separated—or if I hide you somewhere—you need to know that radio has a two-mile radius. Leave it on at all times.”
His eyes were covered by the NVGs but she felt the seriousness of his instructions. “H-how long until we can get away from here? Back home?” she asked, her voice breaking. She was shocked as he lifted his hand and grazed her uninjured cheek. The brush of his knuckles against her flesh sent wild, arching fire downward. Her breasts tightened.
“Listen, Ms. Landon, we have to go nearly a hundred miles through this jungle to reach our rally point. It’s going to be long and hard. You need to keep drinking water. I’ll stop periodically and we’ll hydrate, eat a protein bar and then keep on going.” His voice dropped. “This isn’t going to be easy for you. But judging from your face and throat, you know any energy you can throw into this will be worth it. Okay?”
Nodding, Aly said, “Yes...I understand.”
“Do you have any other injuries that might slow you down? To your feet, legs or knees?”
She grimaced. “No...just my face, arms and neck.”
“Your father said you had heart,” he told her. “I need all the heart you can give me because we’re in a very dangerous situation. And there’s no help if we get into trouble.”
“My father?” she asked, hope suddenly in her voice.
“Yeah. He’s the one that called and asked me to try to find and rescue you. Are you ready?”
Her heart melted over his low, husky words. Her father had come to her rescue! Tears jammed into her eyes. She couldn’t cry now. “I’m ready,” she said firmly.
“Grab my belt.”
Aly wasn’t prepared in any way for this cross-country trotting. Yes, she had NVGs and she could see where the Marine was heading, where the roots were sticking out of the ground, but very quickly, she was gasping for air. She felt horrible. Felt frightened. The Marine slowed to a stop.
She leaned over, hands on her knees, gasping. She felt his hand against her back and he leaned down near her.
“What’s going on with your breathing, Ms. Landon?”
She straightened, unconsciously touching her swollen throat. “Are you familiar with medicine, Sergeant?”
“Yes, ma’am, just a little.”
She heard slight amusement in his voice. “Yesterday afternoon Duarte suddenly grabbed me by the throat.” She closed her eyes, feeling helpless. “I—I couldn’t stop him. When I tried to get his hand off my throat, Rusak, his security chief, grabbed my wrists and pulled them above my head and held me there. I lost consciousness...” She trembled in memory of it.
“Okay,” he breathed softly, “let’s take a moment to rest. I’m going to examine your throat. I’m not going to hurt you....”
Aly was breathing poorly and she knew it. The moment his large fingers moved gently across her throat, she relaxed. He was a man, but he wasn’t hurting her. Aly could feel him assessing the swelling. Finally his hand dropped away.
“I’d like to kill that son of a bitch,” he growled. He dug into one of the pockets on his harness. “I need you to take these two ibuprofen. They’ll help to reduce the swelling, which will start opening up your windpipe so you can breathe easier.”
Aly took the two white capsules. “Thanks,” she whispered. God, why did she have to sound as though she was on the verge of tears? Because she was. The Marine had been so gentle with his examination of her throat. She wanted more of his touch because he made her feel safe in a world that wasn’t.
“Take my water tube,” he told her, turning, his arm against her shoulder, holding the tube out to her.
Aly took the capsules one at a time. It hurt so damn much to swallow. But she did it, drank a lot of water and didn’t complain. She could feel Patterson watching her. Monitoring her. “What time is it?”
“Zero five hundred. Sorry, 5:00 a.m. to you civilian types,” he teased.
She smiled a little. “Sergeant, I’m a military brat. I know Zulu time. I’m pretty familiar with military lingo, okay?” She looked up and saw his white teeth against his painted skin. Warmth flowed through her, calming her. Taking away some of the adrenaline burning through her bloodstream, making all her senses even