Page 14

The voice hit me like a lightning strike. My heart exploded in my chest.

I’m saved. Someone’s actually here for me.

“I’m here! Over here!” I screamed, my voice raw and cracking with desperation.

Gunfire erupted again, ricocheting off trees and tearing through the air and the sounds bounced in every direction. I couldn’t tell where the voice had come from. The swamp swallowed everything, twisting noises into a cruel jumble.

“Where are you?” The voice cut through the chaos, closer this time, but still disorienting.

“I’m in the swamp!” I yelled.

Just over my head, bullets sliced through the air, wild and erratic and barely missing me. Somewhere ahead, precise shots cracked back in response that were exact and controlled.

I dragged my body through the sludge. The water clung to me like a living thing, trying to pull me under. Latching my good hand around a weed coiled at the water’s edge, I used it to haul myself closer to the bank.

Out of the corner of my eye, a blur of brown and black fur streaked along the bank. My breath stalled in my chest.

That’s a dog.

I froze behind the shrub, tracking the massive, sleek body as the dog darted between trees. The German shepherd moved with deadly precision, sniffing the ground as its muscles rippled under its mud-slick fur.

Farther back, something moved.

A man .

He was crouched behind a thick tree, barely visible through the dense swamp foliage. My heart stuttered. I blinked hard, trying to make sense of what I was seeing.

Jesus Christ. He’s half-naked.

No shirt, no shoes, just jeans and a gun in his hands.

Shit.

My chest tightened.

Maybe he’s not here to save me. Maybe he’s one of them. Maybe he heard my Mayday call and my screams, and he’s here to kill me.

He fired again, and the gun cracked like thunder. I flinched, waiting for the telltale scream of agony behind me. But it didn’t come. He’d missed his target.

He darted to another tree, raised his weapon, and fired again. Just one shot, calm and in control. He scanned the swamp, maybe searching for me.

The dog circled back to him, with her tail taut like a rudder behind her, and she dropped into the mud at his side, ears pinned forward and focused.

The man moved closer, darting behind a mangled shrub. The dog shadowed his side.

My breath caught in my throat as the man’s eyes locked onto mine. I froze under his gaze.

His intensity was terrifying, sharp and unwavering, yet there was something else there, something I couldn't quite read.

Who the hell is this guy?

“Can you get out?” he called, his voice low and way too calm.

Human traffickers work these swamps. What if this is just another trap? What if I'm running from one nightmare straight into another?

He crawled toward me on his belly, mud clinging to his skin. At the water's edge, he thrust out his hand. "Tory. Come on!"

I hesitated, my mind racing through a thousand brutal possibilities.

"Hurry."

More bullets zipped past. Two splashed into the water around me. The crocodile's evil eyes flashed in my memory, its teeth gleaming.

Fuck it. I'll take my chances with the shirtless stranger.

I grabbed his hand, and his grip was iron-strong as he yanked me from the water with shocking force. My feet had barely touched solid ground when gunfire erupted behind us.

"Run!" he shouted.

Terror clawed through me as I bolted, crashing through the underbrush with him behind me. The dog took the lead like a living shadow, guiding us through the maze of shrubs. My legs burned, my waterlogged clothes dragging me down with each step. My mind was mush, unable to process anything.

Behind us, the Filipino voices faded into the cacophony of birds and insects, but gunfire still crackled through the air.

My adrenaline crashed, leaving me gasping. "I . . . I need a break."

“Keep going.” He grabbed my hand.

I howled, yanking it free. "I dislocated my finger," I choked out.

"Shit, sorry. Just a bit farther. We need to put some distance between us and those assholes."

He held out his hand and I gripped his palm with my good hand. "Who are you?"

"Jaxson. Jaxson Foster."

Jaxson? From Rosebud Police Station? Recognition hit me.

Whisper had pointed him out at last year's Christmas party: beer in hand, laughing at some joke, relaxed in worn jeans and a faded shirt.

That Jaxson had been casual. This version before me now, half-naked, mud-streaked, and armed, was a far cry from the man I remembered.

Every line of his muscular body screamed military precision, yet there was something untamed in his movements, as though he belonged here in this wild place.

"And that's Onyx, my K9," he added, nodding toward the dog, who was watching me with her ears twitching like she was trying to figure out if I was a friend or someone she should sink her teeth into.

"How did you find me?" I asked, my voice shaky as I straightened slightly, trying to get a better look at him.

"Got lucky, that's for sure."

"But how—" My lungs burned with every word as my legs wobbled beneath me. "Jaxson. I have to stop."

I wrenched my hand free, doubling over again as I gasped for air, my chest heaving .

He stepped closer, resting a steady hand on my back. His touch was firm, grounding me. “You okay?”

I sucked in a ragged breath, then another. “Yes. I guess. No. Not really.”

“I have to say, I wasn’t sure I’d find you alive.” His voice softened, an edge of relief in it.

I forced myself upright, shaking my head. “I nearly wasn’t.”

Every memory seemed to hit me at once: the plane crash, the crocodile attack, those bastards shooting at me.

I glanced at him, squinting through the haze of exhaustion.

Even in my rattled state, I couldn’t help but notice the way his muscles flexed beneath mud-streaked skin.

And he carried himself with manly confidence that felt both reassuring and intimidating.

My cheeks flushed, and heat rose inside me despite my wet uniform clinging to my skin. “Umm . . . where are your clothes?”

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest, and the deep sound was unexpected and genuine, catching me off-guard. “I was about to swim down to your plane when I heard gunshots and screaming. Didn’t exactly have time to get dressed.”

“Oh.” I blinked at him, trying to process everything. “That screaming wasn’t me. One of them got taken by a massive croc.”

He cocked his head, and his brow furrowed. “Shit. Lucky it wasn’t you.”

Onyx let out a low, rumbling growl. Her body tensed, and her ears pinned forward like a radar locking onto a target. Jaxson’s expression shifted in an instant, the easy humor vanishing. He raised his gun and stepped in front of me as a shield.

“Oh God,” I whispered, dread curling in my chest. “They’re still chasing me, aren’t they?”

“Looks like it.” His voice was calm but edged with steel.

“What do we do?” My pulse hammered in my ears as the weight of fear pressed down on me.

“Keep ahead of them,” he said, scanning the dense underbrush. “I’ve only got two bullets left. Unless I have a clean shot, I’m not wasting them.”

“Two?” Panic crept into my voice. “Do you have backup? ”

“Nope. Just me and Onyx.”

“But . . . but—” A dozen questions raced through my mind, tangling together in a frantic mess. Before I could decide which one to ask, he grabbed my good hand, his grip firm but not rough.

“Stay close,” he growled. “We need to find our way back to my car.”

“Oh, good. You have a car.” I nodded, though my heart pounded so hard it threatened to drown out my thoughts. “Which way?”

He hesitated, glancing around the swamp like he was trying to piece together an invisible map.

Then, with a wry, almost apologetic smile, he said, “That’s what we need to figure out.”