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After getting repeatedly poked in the arms by branches, Jack put on the sweatshirt Caitlyn had so thoughtfully packed for him. He hadn’t expected her help. Her kindness. Or her kiss. It meant something, that kiss. Beyond the pure animal satisfaction of holding a woman in his arms, he’d felt a stirring in his soul as though they were deeply connected. He had a bright fleeting memory of what it was like to be in love, but the thought quickly faded into the darker recesses of his mind.
There could never be anything significant between him and Caitlyn. If he survived the next four days and made it to the trial, he’d have a new life in witness protection. And it wouldn’t include her.
Looking up at the sky through scraggly branches, Jack noted the position of the sun and determined which way was north. This ability to get his bearings came from outdoor training in rugged, arid terrain. He remembered a desert. And an instructor who spoke only Spanish and—surprise, surprise—Jack was able to translate. He was bilingual. Another useful skill.
Also, he had a sharp comprehension of strategy. He knew that Rojas and his men were looking for him, as were the marshals at the safe house who had betrayed him. They might have access to advanced technology. Though Jack didn’t see or hear a chopper overhead, it was entirely possible that this whole area was under aerial surveillance. His plan was to stay under the cover of the trees until nightfall.
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