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anything, it was that sometimes you were lucky.

And the general’s daughter had been lucky.

Very.

From this point on, however, her survival was dependent on his skills. And he damn well wasn’t going to have to stop and answer to her for every decision he made.

“You want to play Twenty Questions, save them until later. For now, stay put.”

“Stay put?” She heard the note of hysteria in her voice as he moved past her. “Hey. Where are you…”

He strode to the downed tree, took a couple of the strands he’d yanked from her head and wedged them into the scaly bark, then trotted past her and stuck another on a thorny branch overhanging the trail. Last of all, he drew the gag from his pocket and simply let it fall to the ground.

“Oh,” she said.

“Oh, indeed,” he said as he came back to her. His tone was cold; his eyes were hard. “You thought I was going to leave you here.”

It was a flat statement. She didn’t try to deny it.

“I won’t leave you until we’re back in the States. You got that?”

Her gaze met his. He was big and tough looking; his face was striped with charcoal or maybe some sort of paint. There was a grim set to his jaw. She still didn’t know his name. She didn’t know anything about him except that he didn’t seem to like her very much.

But she believed him.

“Yes,” she said.

He nodded, shoved against the green tangle that obstructed the old game trail. Then he held out his hand. She took it, and he drew her through the vegetation and onto the trail. When he let go of the vines and leaves and branches, the opening to the trail disappeared. No more downed tree, no more well-used trail.

It was all gone.

“The path is narrow,” he said. “We’re going single file, me ahead of you to lead the way. It’ll be rough. I’ll expect you to keep up with me. Is that clear?”

“I understand.”

“I hope to hell you do, Wilde.”

“Why would you call me that? My name is Bellini.”

“Wilde, Bellini, frankly, I don’t give a damn what you call yourself. What I want, what I expect, is that you follow my orders. You don’t stop unless I stop. Not for anything. You don’t talk unless I tell you to talk. And keep your eyes open. The last thing I need is you stepping on a snake or a tarantula. Got it?”

What she understood was that he’d pretty much designated her his own personal pain in the ass.

“Yessir,” she said, as sweetly as saccharine.

He narrowed his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means exactly what it sounds like. I am yours to command.”

Oh, the look on his face! She knew he wanted to say something about her being…what was that American phrase? About her being a smart-ass.

But he didn’t. Instead, he swung away from her and started walking.

Alessandra took a long breath, immediately regretted it because it involved swallowing a gnat or some other kind of horrible flying creature, and fell in behind him.

CHAPTER FOUR

It was slow going.