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“How much time do I have?” she asked her aunt.
“Not long. They have the same information I do, which means they could be there right now.”
A sick feeling spread through her.
“Then I’ve got to go,” Ellie said. “I’ll call as soon as I can.”
She forced her mind to click through her options. If her aunt was right, then she couldn’t go back to the center where she worked. Nor could she go home or to any of her friends here. She was going to have to disappear. Again. The familiar sense of fear she’d lived with over the past few months washed through her. She had no reason not to trust her aunt. Unless someone had gotten to her as well.
Ellie hurried down a narrow flight of cement stairs, past a woman hanging up her laundry. A young girl swept the walk outside her house. Children played in the narrow thoroughfare with graffiti on the walls.
She glanced behind her up the alley. There was no way they could find her here. Was there? A man in black jeans and a white T-shirt darted down the stairs behind her, almost knocking down one of the kids who was playing. His cold gaze caught hers as he headed toward her.
They’d found her.
Ellie smashed the cell phone against the pavement, then started running, careful not to lose her balance on the uneven pavement as she raced down the street. Her aunt had been right. Going back to her apartment wasn’t an option. She had her passport and some cash with her in her leather messenger bag. Now she just needed to get to the bus terminal, where she’d left a bugout bag in one of the long-term lockers in case something like this happened, and leave the city.
She turned down another street, then glanced behind her, unsure if she’d lost the guy with all the pedestrian traffic. No...he was still coming toward her. She needed a way out. A motorcycle sat fifty feet ahead of her. There was something familiar about the tall, muscular driver who had turned around to see what the commotion was.
Ryan Kendall?
The last time she remembered seeing him was on a trip to his family ranch well over a decade ago, where he’d driven her crazy with his dumb jokes and juvenile pranks.
“Hurry,” he shouted, handing her a helmet.
There was no time to ask what Jarrod Kendall’s son was doing here. Instead, she jumped on the back of the seat, grabbed onto his waist and shouted for him to go. He zipped around a group of women, then headed for the main road as her pursuer disappeared behind them.
A minute later, Ellie’s heart was still pounding as Ryan merged into the traffic. She closed her eyes, wrapping her arms tighter around his waist as he took the turn too fast for her comfort. It was one thing sitting behind a mototaxi driver who knew the streets of Rio like the back of his hand. She was quite sure Ryan, on the other hand, would be completely lost without his rented GPS.
He sped down the freeway like a local, but even that didn’t help loosen the knots in her stomach as she pressed against his back. It wasn’t rush hour, but the traffic was still congested. Someone honked behind them. She tried to slow her breathing. She knew that Arias’s operation was extensive, though Ryan’s father had assured her that she’d be out of Arias’s reach here in Rio. Apparently, that wasn’t true. All she wanted right now was to find somewhere safe, where they couldn’t get to her.
But they’d just proved that place didn’t exist.
Ellie glanced behind her, unable to shake the uneasiness that had settled over her. The surrounding mountains boxed in the city, helping to add to the congested traffic, which was why she always took a taxi in order to avoid driving. Something in her peripheral vision caught her eye. A motorcycle was weaving in and out of traffic as it sped toward them. If it was the same guy she’d caught coming after her in the favela... She squeezed her arms tighter around Ryan’s waist as they flew past a large truck.
“You okay?” Ryan shouted above the noise of the busy freeway.
“No.” She leaned against him and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. “I think we’re being followed.”
* * *
Ryan glanced in the side mirror at the motorcycle closing in behind them. He couldn’t help but wonder for a split second how he’d managed to find himself speeding down a highway in the middle of Rio with a possible cartel member behind him, instead of scuba diving in the middle of the Atlantic like he’d planned. He sped up, then weaved in between two cars, trying to determine if Ellie’s theory was correct. But the other motorcycle also increased its speed and continued to bridge the distance between them.
Definitely not a coincidence.
He glanced in his side mirror again, trying to deduce what the other rider was planning to do. Running them off the road was always a possibility. Or maybe he’d simply been planning to follow them and hadn’t expected to be made. Ellie’s arms squeezed tighter around his waist, making him wonder what he’d been thinking when he’d impulsively rented the motorcycle. There was nothing heroic about rescuing a maiden in distress only to throw her into another life-threatening situation.
The back window of the car to their right shattered. Ryan swerved to miss hitting the car as it fishtailed, and almost ran into a single-cab truck before the car hit the center barrier, then skidded to a stop behind them.
But there was no way they could stop. The armed motorcyclist had just made his intentions perfectly clear.
“Hold on.” Ryan pressed on the accelerator, praying as he worked to stretch out the gap between them. “We need to lose him.”
“There’s a split in the highway up ahead,” she shouted. “A mile, maybe two. We might be able to lose him.”
“Which direction should I go?”
“To the left. The other way veers off into a sharp curve.”
It wasn’t a foolproof plan, but it was going to have to work. He continued to increase his speed, dodging in front of cars as he tried to widen the distance between them, but the other motorcycle still managed to keep up with them.
If he took a shot at them again...
A minute later, they passed a sign, signaling the upcoming split. Two kilometers, or roughly one mile. Traffic was fairly heavy, but he maneuvered through the lanes, keeping primarily to the right, as if he was planning to exit. He kept his eyes on his mirrors. He’d raced motorcycles all through high school and college and had been good at it. His father had been the one who’d taught him everything, from running tighter lines, to how to use the brakes, to ensuring he understood every minute detail of how a bike ran. And that attention to detail had translated into winning more races.
But this was different. Back then he hadn’t been riding with someone holding on to him he was supposed to protect with a shooter closing in.
He passed another sign as he weaved through traffic, then went back into the right lane. Another half mile to the split. He held his position, waiting until the last minute, then swerved to the left, barely making the turn.
The other bike tried to follow, but by the time he realized what they’d done, it was too late. The driver swerved to the left, overcompensating, then slid across several lanes of traffic before disappearing from view.
They road in silence for another thirty minutes, until he was certain they weren’t being followed. He turned onto an avenue running parallel to the Atlantic Ocean, then found a place to park the bike. With dozens of tourists and locals enjoying the warm October sunshine along the white, sandy shoreline, they would be safe here for the moment.
He helped Ellie off the bike, then pulled off his helmet, his hands shaking as he set it on the seat. If his hands were shaking, he could only imagine what she was feeling. Not only had they just survived a near fatal accident, but this entire situation was also intensely personal for her. She’d lost her father, and now, once again, almost her life.
She pulled off her helmet, then caught his gaze. “Thanks for the rescue, but what are you doing in Rio?”
He hesitated at her question. “I was working off the coast, and my father sent me to check on you. Said that the last time you spoke to him you’d sounded upset. He wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“I guess my paranoia that the cartel would find me wasn’t that far off.” Her eyes watered as she blew out a sharp breath. “My aunt called right before you showed up. Warned me that Arias’s men had found me.”
He shook his head. “Wait a minute... No one is supposed to even know you’re alive, and yet we just got shot at and almost run off the road, and now you’re telling me that your aunt knows where you are as well.”
“She’s been looking for me.”
Her watery eyes turned into full-blown tears, and he had no idea how to react to her crying. Hugging her seemed too intimate, and yet he didn’t want to just ignore what she was feeling. The last time he’d seen her, she’d been fourteen or fifteen. They used to spend summers at his father’s Colorado ranch, until her family moved to Dallas. And now his father had sent him to do a simple extraction, but he had a feeling this was going to turn out to be a bit more complicated.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I will be.” She wiped her cheek with the back of her hand, clearly trying to gain back her composure. “I’m sorry. Except for the night my father was murdered, I don’t think I’ve ever been so terrified.”
“You have nothing to be sorry about, but we need to get you out of the country,” he said. “My father’s already booked two seats on a direct flight to the States for tonight in case I felt we needed to leave immediately, which clearly we do.”
He focused his attention on her but continued to stay fully aware of the scene around him. He couldn’t assume anything when it came to their safety. Not after what he’d just witnessed.
“Ellie...”
She stared out across the stunning blue water lined with countless kiosks and beachgoers a few seconds longer before looking up at him. “I’m sorry, but I can’t leave.”
“What are you talking about?” he asked. “We were almost killed a few minutes ago.”
Surely he’d misunderstood her.
“I have information on the man behind my father’s death,” she said. “Proof that could finally lead to his arrest and conviction.”
“What kind of proof?” he asked, unsure he liked the direction of the conversation. She couldn’t be planning to play detective and try to solve her father’s murder herself. He’d agreed to escort her home. Not follow up on some clue she thought she’d come up with. That he planned to leave to the authorities.
“I made contact with a doctor who works in the north of Brazil along the Amazon River,” she said quickly. “He has evidence he’s been afraid to take to the authorities, but he’s agreed to meet with me.”
“Wait a minute...so you’re planning to go to the Amazon?”
“I’ve already booked a private flight that leaves in the morning.”
Ryan frowned. A simple extraction, in and out, didn’t include a stop in the Amazon.
“I’m sorry, but you can’t—”
“If they can find me here in Brazil,” she said, catching his gaze, “what’s to stop them from finding me back in the US, where they have even more resources? Which means I won’t be able to quit running until the men behind my father’s death are in prison.”
Ryan shook his head. “I agreed to take you back to the US, not off on some wild-goose chase down the Amazon.”
“That’s fine, because I’m not asking you to go with me.” She let out a sharp breath. “Have you ever lost someone you loved?”
Ryan’s muscles stiffened at the question. “Yes, but—”
“Then you have to understand that not only do I need closure to my father’s death, I need the men who killed him to pay for what they did. And if I ever want to stop running, I have to make sure they’re caught.”
“And some...doctor in the Amazon is your best lead? How does that play in to your father’s murder?”
“Let’s just say that even cartel leaders and drug lords need medical care.”
“And this doctor you tracked down knows the man you believe is behind your father’s death and has some kind of information you believe might help solve his case?”
“Exactly.”
“Which could put his life in danger as well.”
“I know, but we’ve been very careful,” she said. “He works one week a month at a second clinic about two hours upriver of where he lives. He’s agreed to meet me there. No one will suspect anything.”
“Forget it. It’s way too dangerous, and I promised my father I’d get you out of here.” Ryan glanced down the wide boulevard that ran parallel to the ocean and was lined with hotels, restaurants and bars. How was he supposed to convince her to leave? “Listen. I’m not a chauvinist, but a woman on her own, traveling down the Amazon, is probably not the best idea. Especially when the cartel is looking for you.”
“Don’t you think I haven’t thought of that?” Ellie looked up at him. “I realize this isn’t some sanitized cruise, and we’re not just talking about avoiding leeches and piranhas. It’s not safe. I get it. And in fact, I feel as if I’m poking my finger into a hornet’s nest.”
He didn’t miss the apprehension in her voice or the hint of fear in her eyes as she caught his gaze. But he also didn’t miss the look of fierce determination. The bottom line, though, was that someone was out there, looking for her, and from what his father had told him, they weren’t going to stop until they found her.
“You know my father,” he said. “He will do everything in his power to stop whoever’s behind this. Including finding out what this doctor knows. But you don’t have to do this on your own. It’s not safe. We need to get to the airport and return to the States.”
She shook her head. “You don’t understand. You don’t have to come with me, but I’m going.”
TWO (#uda2b470f-7228-5a73-8eed-c418cf70fba0)
Ellie started walking away from him, toward the water, still carrying the helmet she’d been wearing. She needed to clear her head. She wished she didn’t feel so angry. Wished her nerves weren’t so rattled. Surely flying to the Amazon to meet the doctor wasn’t nearly as dangerous as riding a motorcycle across Rio with Ryan Kendall. Unless, of course, the cartel managed to track her there as well.
Memories engulfed her, dragging her back to a place she didn’t want to be. Like the last time she’d spoken to her father. He’d apologized for burdening her with his problems, telling her that this case had him on edge, and with the evidence he’d seen, he was ready to give his judgment and see Mauricio Arias remain in prison for the rest of his life. It might not have been the first time he’d received threats, but for some reason, when she’d hung up the phone, she’d been left with the impression that this time was different. This time it was personal.
She had already been worried over the toll the case had been taking on his health, which was why she’d insisted on coming over and making dinner. Normally their weekly Friday-night dinners included takeout and a couple hours of conversation, where they were forbidden to mention politics or law. But after the week her father had had, she’d figured he’d enjoy a home-cooked meal rather than spicy Thai or greasy pizza.
Instead, she’d found her father in the entryway. He was lying on the hardwood floor, a pool of blood beneath him, and his eyes were closed, as if he was sleeping.
Except he hadn’t been sleeping.
She’d knelt over her father and quickly felt for a pulse or a breath—anything that would assure her it wasn’t too late. She’d begged that God would step in and wake her up from this nightmare. Her stomach had twisted as she pulled back his suit jacket, revealing where the bullet had struck his chest. Everything her father had feared had become a reality.
A second later, a bullet had slammed into the wall behind her. She’d glanced at the figure standing in the doorway on the other side of the room as time seemed to momentarily freeze. Dark hair, piercing brown eyes, spiderweb tat on the side of his neck... Details imprinted on her mind as she’d grabbed her phone, then dived behind the paisley couch. A second bullet had struck the arm of the piece of furniture, missing her by only a couple inches. Her father was still lying motionless on the floor, but there had been nothing else she could have done for him. He was already gone. Which meant she’d had to find a way out of the house before it was too late.
She tried to shake off the memories that had yet to stop chasing her the past couple months as she walked past a beach vendor selling coconut water straight from the coconut to a couple of tourists. On any other day, Copacabana Beach, with its long stretch of shoreline, crystal blue waters and the magnificent Sugarloaf Mountain in the background, was one of her favorite places in the city. But today, she didn’t really see any of it.
How was she supposed to make Ryan understand she couldn’t return with him?
She stopped at the edge of the sand, not far from where a father and son were building a sandcastle. She and Ryan always had been polar opposites growing up. His father had mentioned that he’d spent a decade as a navy diver and now worked as a saturation diver for oil companies. She wasn’t sure what the job entailed, but she was pretty sure it was dangerous. She definitely wasn’t the adventurous type, but this wasn’t the time to admit to him how terrified she felt. If she did, she had a feeling he’d kidnap her himself in order to get her to return.
But the risks involved didn’t change anything. Not now.
“Ellie...”
She felt a surge of resolve run through her as he stepped up next to her. She studied his lean, solid profile, stopping at his strong jawline and five-o’clock shadow. She trusted him, but only because she trusted his father, and his father had sent him. She also knew that flying to the Amazon hadn’t been a part of the bargain. But until the authorities found her father’s killer, she’d always be looking over her shoulder, and that wasn’t a life she intended to live any longer. Which was why she had no plans of backing down. With or without his help.
“I need to find out the truth,” she said, “because I’m tired of running. Nor can I simply ignore the information the doctor has.”
She caught the hesitation in his eyes, knowing they needed to leave. Even if they had managed to evade the man who’d tried to grab her in the favela, they were still out in the open and exposed. But this wasn’t a fight she was willing to walk away from.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t let you do that,” he said. “Once we get to the safe house back in the States, you can meet with my father and tell him about this doctor and the information he has. I’m sure he’ll be willing to send someone to meet with the man.”
The warm sun made her long to take off her shoes and dig her toes into the sand, as if it was just a normal day. “That’s not good enough. Dr. Reynolds is risking his life to meet with me, which means I owe it to both him and my father to go speak to him. And he told me that he’ll only meet with me. Not the authorities.”
“Are you forgetting that not only did your aunt manage to track down your cell phone number and location, we were just chased out of the favela?”
“I know it sounds crazy, but I need to show you something.” She pulled a couple photos out of the side pocket of her bag, desperate for him to understand. “This is my father a couple months before he was killed. He was a huge sports fan, and I surprised him with tickets to watch the Dallas Mavericks for his birthday. And this—” she showed him the second photo “—this is the sketch I drew of the man who killed my father, then burned down his house.”
Ryan let out a soft sigh. “My father told me about what happened, and I am truly sorry for your loss.”
“What exactly did he tell you?” she asked.
“That three months ago your father was murdered by members of the cartel and his house was burned down in connection to a high-profile case he was presiding over. And that you were a witness to who murdered him—and despite what the news channels all reported, you were very much alive.”
Except for Ryan’s father, she hadn’t spoken to anyone about that day. Her friends back in the United States thought she was dead, and her new friends here couldn’t find out what had happened to her. It was a burden she’d had to face on her own with only her faith to carry her through.
“The last time I spoke with my father,” she continued, “he sounded distracted. Preoccupied. He’d hinted about the strain of the cartel-related triple homicide. When I pressed him for more information, he assured me nothing was wrong, but I didn’t believe him. Especially when he admitted there was missing evidence and a string of threats directed toward him.
