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CHAPTER ELEVEN

R ain lashed against the cabin windows like angry fingers trying to claw their way inside. Jennifer stood at the small kitchen sink, washing the last of their dinner dishes and staring into the darkness beyond the glass. It had been hours since Jonah headed for Noah’s family home, and they hadn’t heard a word. She knew Noah was getting antsy, though he did his best not to show any emotion. Before the rain started, he’d done several sweeps of the area outside the cabin, ensuring nobody had snuck up on them. He’d even insisted she keep on the vest he’d given her earlier, though the thing was uncomfortable. He’d waved aside her complaints, telling her comfort had nothing to do with safety.

But now, something felt wrong. The hair on her nape prickled with unease—the same sensation she’d had moments before the apartment in Jackson Square had exploded. After everything that had happened in the past few days, she’d learned to trust her instincts, and right now, they said something or somebody was outside.

“Noah?” she called, drying her hands on a dish towel.

He appeared in the doorway instantly, his muscular frame filling the space. Even after all they’d been through, the sight of him still made her breath catch.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know. Something doesn’t feel right.”

Noah didn’t question her. That was one of the things she’d come to appreciate about him; he never dismissed her feelings as foolish or treated her like she was stupid. Instead, he moved to the window, peering out into the storm-ravaged darkness, his body tense and alert.

“Kill the lights,” he said softly, his voice barely audible above the thunder.

Jennifer’s heart hammered as she flipped the switch, plunging the cabin into darkness. Noah moved with practiced efficiency, retrieving his sidearm from the small of his back. She knew he’d also hidden another beneath the sofa cushion, the Glock she’d practiced with the past few days. Staying as quiet as possible, she moved to stand by his side at the window.

“There,” he whispered, pointing to faint movement in the tree line. “Three o’clock.”

Jennifer squinted, seeing nothing at first, before catching the subtle shift of a shadow that didn’t match the swaying trees. “I see it.”

“And there,” Noah continued, nodding toward the opposite side. “They’re trying to box us in. Coming in from the front only; they can’t get to the sides or the back, because of sheer rock faces.”

Fear coiled in her stomach, but Jennifer refused to give in to it. These past days with Noah had taught her that panic was a luxury she couldn’t afford. Instead, she took a deep breath, determined to be brave. All the training Noah had given her kicked in, and she moved on silent feet to the sofa, retrieving the Glock from its hiding spot.

“What’s the plan?”

Noah’s face was grim in the dim light. “They’ll expect us to stay put. Right now, we’re sitting ducks. They can take their time or try to flush us out.” He sighed. “I wish Jonah or Marcel had stayed, we could use them right about now. But we’re going to use the storm as cover and get to the forest.”

“Wait a second, you want to go out into this storm, with heaven knows how many of Karim’s armed mercenaries out there?”

“ Cherie , I know these mountains; they don’t.”

A sudden flash of lightning illuminated the yard, revealing a figure darting between trees. Noah pulled her down below the window’s edge just as a barrage of gunfire shattered the glass above them.

“We’ve gotta go now,” Noah hissed. “Follow me.”

Pulling her toward the pantry, he flung open the door and grabbed for something she couldn’t see in the near darkness of the cabin. Within seconds, he pushed her inside and closed the door behind them before turning on a flashlight. The space was cramped, barely enough room for them to stand side by side.

Jennifer’s hands trembled, her whole body feeling as if it would fall apart. Before she could say anything, Noah squatted down and removed several slats of wood, revealing a large gaping space carved in the earth. The earthy smell of dampness filled her nostrils as she stared into the looming darkness below. She heard several more shots hitting the interior walls of the cabin and drew in a ragged breath. A loud crash reverberated through the cabin as the front door splintered with a deafening crack.

“Time to go,” Noah whispered, pressing the flashlight into her hand. “I’m going to lower you into the opening. Once your feet touch the ground, start walking. I’ll be right behind you.”

“You didn’t show me this—tunnel, exit, whatever you want to call it.”

“I haven’t told you all my secrets, Jen. Do you really want to discuss this now, or do you want to get out of here?”

She bit her tongue, fighting to keep back the words she wanted to scream. He was right, now wasn’t the time. Good thing she wasn’t claustrophobic, because there didn’t appear to be a whole lot of space inside the dark opening beneath the floorboards. Sitting on the edge of the hole’s opening, her legs hanging into the darkness, she scooched forward, Noah’s hands gripping her arms as he began to lower her until her feet touched the bottom of the tunnel’s floor. There wasn’t much room, and standing upright was impossible, as she discovered when the top of her head collided with solid rock with an audible thunk.

Pointing the flashlight’s weak beam down the narrow corridor revealed a rock-strewn passage barely wide enough for one person to scrape through. She moved forward, feeling Noah close behind her, his presence both reassuring and dangerous. The reassuring heft of the Glock was a comforting weight tucked into the back of her waist.

The tunnel was smaller than she’d imagined, forcing them to crouch as they moved. The dank stench of mildew assaulted her senses, and water dripped from above. She wasn’t sure how far they were from the cabin, it felt like they’d been walking for a long time. A chuck of damp rock fell from the top of the tunnel, spattering onto her hair and shoulders. The sounds from inside the cabin faded behind them, muffled by earth and distance.

After what felt like an eternity, the tunnel began to slope upward. Jennifer’s legs burned from the awkward position she’d been forced to use, and she couldn’t imagine how hard it had to be on Noah. She pushed on, knowing that stopping meant death—or worse, being returned to Kamir and the Amir family’s twisted obsession with eliminating her before she could testify. She doubted they’d make it easy or quick.

The tunnel widened, ending at a vertical shaft with crude handholds carved into the rock wall. Jennifer clicked off the flashlight and reached upward, feeling for any type of opening or trapdoor like the one in the cabin.

“Let me,” Noah murmured, moving beside her in the cramped space. His body pressed against hers as he reached up, muscles straining as he forced the door open. Rain immediately poured in, soaking them both.

Noah pulled himself up first, then reached down to help Jennifer. As she emerged from the earth, the full force of the storm hit her—wind whipping her hair across her face, rain pelting her skin like tiny needles. Through the downpour, she could make out the massive, split trunk of an ancient oak just yards away.

“Come on, we need to go this way.” Noah gripped her hand as he led her deeper into the forest, the ground slick with mud and fallen leaves. Thick branches and tiny twigs threatened to send her tumbling with each step. Jennifer focused on keeping her footing, trusting Noah to navigate.

Behind them, shouts carried on the wind. Their pursuers had discovered the tunnel.

“We need to split up,” Noah said suddenly, pulling her behind the shelter of a massive boulder. “They’re expecting us to stay together.”

“No.” Jennifer clutched his arm. “That’s not the plan. You said under no circumstances were we to separate. That was part of my training.”

“Plans change,” he replied, his face hard. “I’ll lead them away, create a diversion. You follow the ridge east—there’s an old ranger station three miles down. My brother Marcel knows to meet us there if we’re compromised.”

“And if you don’t make it?” The words stuck in her throat.

Noah’s expression softened momentarily. He cupped her face with one calloused hand. “I’ll find you. I promised not to let anything happen to you, Jen. I will always find you.”

Before she could protest further, he kissed her—hard, desperate, with an intensity she felt all the way to her toes—then pulled away. Why, why did it feel like this was goodbye? Her heart felt like it was breaking in half, and she held onto him with both hands.

This can’t be happening. I’m supposed to testify, then have a chance at a new life. I thought Noah could be, should be, part of that life. I can’t let things end like this.

“Head east. Stay low. Don’t use the flashlight unless you absolutely must, it’ll draw attention. Use the lightning flashes to navigate when you can and stay alert.”

Jennifer nodded, memorizing his instructions along with the contours of his face. Part of her wanted to beg him to stay together, but she knew better. Noah was former Special Forces; his tactical decisions had kept them alive this long. She’d have to pray that they’d keep him safe until he came back to her.

“Noah, please be careful.”

“Go,” he urged, as another shout echoed through the trees, closer now.

Reluctantly, Jennifer slipped away, angling east as he’d instructed. The darkness swallowed her, the storm both a hindrance and a help as she navigated more by feel than sight. Behind her, Noah crashed noisily through the underbrush in the opposite direction—deliberately drawing attention. Guilt flooded her. He was placing himself in danger protecting her, risking his life to keep hired goons from finding her.

Jennifer moved as quickly as she dared, counting steps to maintain direction. When lightning flashed, she glimpsed rocky terrain ahead—the ridge Noah had mentioned. She kept low, using fallen trees and boulders for cover, pausing periodically to listen for pursuit.

The crack of gunfire in the distance made her freeze. It came from the direction Noah had gone. Fear clutched at her heart, but she forced herself to keep moving. Noah could handle himself, he’d survived worse than this. She had to believe that—had to—or she’d lose hope.

The ridge proved treacherous, its rocky face slick with rainwater. Jennifer’s life in Paris hadn’t prepared her for this kind of terrain, but determination drove her forward, finding handholds and testing each placement before trusting her weight on it.

Halfway up, her foot slipped on a wet stone, sending her sliding several feet down the incline. She bit back a cry as sharp rocks tore at her palms. Hands clawing for purchase, she focused on stopping her descent, fingers digging into the grooves. The bottom of her shirt caught on a protruding rock, tearing and leaving a long scrape on her stomach. When she finally halted, pressed against a jutting boulder, she hauled in several shaky breaths, not allowing herself to look down.

That’s when she heard the distinct sound of voices from below.

“Fan out,” a voice commanded, harsh and accented. “The woman came this way.”

Jennifer flattened herself against the rock face, heart pounding so loudly she feared they would hear it. Lightning flashed again, and she risked a glance down. Three men in tactical gear were methodically searching the base of the ridge, their weapons ready.

She needed higher ground. Using the rhythm of the storm for cover, Jennifer resumed her slow climb, moving only during thunderclaps when the sound would mask any noise. Her arms trembled with exertion by the time she reached the top, managing to pull herself over the edge onto a relatively flat expanse. Exhaustion clawed at her, as she lay flat on her back, looking up at the night sky. No stars dotted the blackness, only the outline of thick dark clouds.

A moment’s relief was all she allowed herself before crawling toward a cluster of pines that offered better concealment. From this vantage point, she could see more of the valley below—including several figures converging on the spot where she’d heard gunfire earlier.

Noah. Please be safe.

Another sound caught her attention—the distinctive whir of helicopter blades cutting through the storm. Jennifer peered upward, spotting the dark shape hovering above the trees to the west. A search light blazed to life, sweeping across the forest floor.

Why wouldn’t they give up? Huffing out a deep breath, she stood and trudged forward, knowing she needed to keep moving or they’d make sure she disappeared into the night. The ranger station was her goal now—her best chance of finding safety and, hopefully, reuniting with Noah. Rising into a crouch, Jennifer oriented herself and moved deeper into the trees crowning the ridge.

The going was easier here, the ground more level, though fallen branches and undergrowth created their own obstacles. Jennifer settled into a rhythm, pushing her sodden hair from her face as she navigated through the darkness.

An hour passed, maybe more. Time seemed to slow until she couldn’t be sure how much had passed, yet she kept moving forward. The storm began to abate, the thunder growing more distant. Without its cover, Jennifer became increasingly cautious, pausing often to listen. The helicopter had disappeared, but that didn’t mean the search had ended.

A twig snapped behind her.

Jennifer whirled, searching for somewhere to hide, but it was too late. A beam of light caught her, blinding in its intensity.

“Don’t move,” a voice commanded—the same accented voice she’d heard at the ridge.

Slowly, Jennifer raised her hands, blinking against the light. As her vision adjusted, she made out the figure of a tall, lean man holding a pistol aimed squarely at her chest. His face was all hard planes and cold calculation, rain dripping down his face from his shaved head.

“Miss Baptiste.” His lips curved into a smile that never reached his eyes. “Mr. Amir will be pleased to know we have found you safe and sound.”

“Jakob Skinner,” Jennifer replied, recognizing him from the dossier Noah had shown her. Former British special forces, now head of security for Kamir Amir—and a man known for his complete lack of moral boundaries when money was involved.

“My reputation precedes me,” Skinner looked momentarily impressed. “Though I’m afraid your companion won’t be joining us. My men are quite thorough.”

Ice formed in Jennifer’s veins. “If you’ve hurt him—”

“You’ll what?” Skinner’s laugh was unpleasant, eerily devoid of emotion. “Lecture me on interior decorating? Show me swatches of fabric? I think not.” He gestured with his weapon. “Walk. We have transport waiting.”

Jennifer considered her options. Running would be suicide. Attacking a trained operative likewise. Her best and only chance was compliance—for now. Noah had taught her that survival sometimes meant playing along until an opportunity presented itself.

If he was still alive, he would come for her. And if not…well, she’d find her own way out. She wasn’t the same woman who’d almost been kidnapped and had multiple attempts on her life. She’d learned and grown in so many ways in such a short time. If…if Noah was gone, then Gator would have Carpenter’s men looking for her. She simply needed to hold onto hope.

“How much?” she asked as she began walking in the direction Skinner indicated. “How much is Karim paying you?”

“More than you could offer,” Skinner replied, but something in his tone made Jennifer wonder.

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” She was bluffing, but she threw out the thought anyway. Who knows, maybe she could get Skinner thinking about a counteroffer. Too bad she was broke, especially since the Amirs had frozen all her assets.

Skinner prodded her forward. “Save your negotiations for someone who cares.”

They walked in silence, Jennifer cataloging every detail—the route, the terrain, Skinner’s movements. Noah had taught her information was power, and to never underestimate good intel. After twenty minutes, they emerged into a small clearing where two more men waited. Their expressions when they saw her were a mixture of relief and triumph.

“No sign of the other one,” one of them reported. “Thompson and Reed are still searching, but the storm’s making it difficult.”

A tiny kernel of hope fluttered in Jennifer’s chest. Noah was still out there. She only had to hang on and he’d find her, come for her.

“We’re not waiting. Secure her. We move to the airstrip immediately.”

Rough hands searched her and found the Glock before binding Jennifer’s wrists with plastic zip ties, cinched painfully tight. They marched her through the forest to a mud-splattered SUV waiting on a narrow service road. Jennifer was shoved into the back seat, Skinner sliding in beside her while one man took the wheel and the other rode shotgun.

As the vehicle lurched forward, Jennifer stared out the window at the dark forest. Noah was somewhere out there—possibly injured, but knowing him, still fighting. She’d seen him overcome impossible odds before. If anyone could track her through this wilderness, it was him.

The drive was punishing, the service road little more than a rutted path through the mountains. Jennifer used the time to gather herself, to push aside fear and focus on what she could control. Noah had trained her for exactly this kind of situation, showed her how to observe, identify weaknesses, and to create opportunities.

“Your employer might be disappointed,” she said finally, breaking the tense silence. “The Amirs will still go to prison, even if I can’t testify.”

Skinner didn’t look at her. “Not my concern.”

“It should be. Karim doesn’t handle disappointment well.” Jennifer leaned closer, lowering her voice. “Remember what happened to the last head of security? That car bombing in Riyadh wasn’t an accident.”

That earned her a sharp glance. “You’re lying.”

“Am I? Why do you think Noah and I were in that cabin? He moved me because he knew Karim has a nasty habit of reacting negatively when he’s crossed or disappointed. Besides, he tried to hire Noah to be the head of security just days ago. Wonder if he thinks something might happen to you, Mr. Skinner?” The lie came easily, bolstered by just enough truth to sound convincing.

Doubt flickered across Skinner’s face—just a moment’s hesitation, but Jennifer saw it. She pressed her advantage.

“I can give you a way out. All you have to do is pretend you didn’t find me. You can tell Amir we weren’t in the cabin, and that you’ll have to keep searching. You’ll get to keep your job and the money he’s promised you, and your job is secure.”

“Shut up,” Skinner snapped, but there was less conviction in his voice.

“You know, if you’re unhappy with Mr. Amir, I have connections with Carpenter Security Services. I can get you a job there. No background check. No pesky interview. Think about the prestige of working for Samuel Carpenter.”

Skinner shot her a narrow-eyed stare, but didn’t say anything. Jennifer fell silent, satisfied that she’d planted a seed. She didn’t need Skinner to turn against Amir; she just needed him distracted, uncertain. Any advantage, no matter how small, improved her chances.

After nearly an hour of rough travel, the SUV emerged from the forest onto a paved road. Ten minutes later, they turned onto an unmarked drive that led to a small airstrip, its single runway illuminated by low lights. A sleek private jet waited on the tarmac, its engines already humming in preparation for departure.

As they pulled up beside the aircraft, Jennifer’s heart sank. Once on that plane, her chances of escape—or rescue—diminished exponentially. She needed to delay takeoff any way she could.

“I think I’m going to be sick.” She held her bound hands against her stomach, bending over slightly.

He eyed her suspiciously. “Nice try.”

“I’m serious,” Jennifer insisted, stumbling a little. “Motion sickness. The mountain roads…”

She retched convincingly, making Skinner step back in disgust.

“For God’s sake, get it together. You can be sick on the plane.”

“On Karim’s twelve-million-dollar interior? I’m sure he’ll appreciate that.” Jennifer straightened slowly. “Just give me a minute.”

Reluctantly, Skinner gestured to one of his men. “Take her to the hangar bathroom. Make it quick.”

The guard gripped Jennifer’s arm, steering her toward a small building adjacent to the runway. As they walked, Jennifer scanned the perimeter of the airstrip. The storm had passed, leaving behind a sky beginning to lighten with stars peeping through the cloud cover. The nearly full moon’s glow shone overhead. The surrounding forest was still shrouded in darkness, offering perfect cover for…what? A rescue that might never come?

No. She couldn’t think that way.

Noah is coming.

The hangar bathroom was little more than a closet with a toilet and sink. The guard shoved her inside, but didn’t remove her restraints.

“Two minutes,” he growled. “Door stays open.”

Jennifer nodded meekly, already assessing the tiny space for anything useful. There was nothing obvious, no window, no convenient tools left lying around. Just a metal paper towel dispenser bolted to the wall and a small mirror above the sink. Glancing toward the halfway ajar door, she made retching sounds, hoping the guard would fall for the ruse she was tossing her cookies.

The mirror.

Jennifer moved closer, pretending to check her reflection. What she was looking at was the mirror provided a view of the guard standing in the doorway, his attention divided between her and the runway outside.

In the distance, she heard Skinner shouting orders—something about a final check before departure. Good. Any delay worked in her favor.

Jennifer turned on the sink, splashing cold water on her face. As she reached for a paper towel, her fingers brushed against the dispenser’s metal edge. It felt loose. Keeping her movements casual, she explored it further and discovered that the bottom panel had partially detached from the wall—perhaps from age or poor maintenance. Good news for her that the cleaning crew wasn’t great at their job.

Working quickly, Jennifer wedged her fingers into the gap and pulled. The thin metal bent further, creating a sharp edge. It wasn’t much, but it might be enough to cut through the zip ties binding her wrists.

“Time’s up,” the guard announced from the doorway.

“Just a second, I’m coming,” Jennifer replied, palming a paper towel and using it to conceal her other hand as she pried the piece of metal free from the dispenser. The sharp edge sliced into her finger, but she ignored the pain, slipping the makeshift tool up her sleeve as she turned toward the door.

The guard gripped her arm again, marching her back toward the plane. As they walked, Jennifer began working the metal shard against the zip tie, careful to keep her movements subtle. The plastic was thick, hard to saw through, but she finally felt it beginning to give.

Halfway to the aircraft, Skinner intercepted them, his expression tense. “Change of plans. We’re delaying departure.”

“Why?” the guard asked.

Skinner’s eyes darted to the tree line. “Perimeter sensor triggered on the north side. Could be an animal, could be something else. I’m not taking chances.”

Jennifer’s pulse quickened. North side—the direction Noah would likely approach from if he’d tracked them here. Hope surged within her.

“Take her to the office,” Skinner ordered. “And stay alert.”

The guard redirected Jennifer toward another small building at the edge of the airstrip. Unlike the hangar, this structure had windows—potential escape routes. As they approached, Jennifer continued working at her restraints, feeling the zip tie weakening with each subtle movement.

Inside, the office was sparse—a desk, two chairs, file cabinets, and a radio setup that appeared to be monitoring the airstrip’s perimeter sensors. The guard pushed Jennifer into a chair facing the desk, before positioning himself by the door.

“Don’t move,” he warned, raising his weapon for emphasis.

Jennifer nodded, feigning submission while continuing to work at her bonds beneath the desk where her hands weren’t visible. Outside, she could hear increased frenetic activity—more guards being positioned, orders being shouted. Something had spooked them.

Noah. It has to be.

The radio crackled to life. “Zone four breach. Moving to investigate.”

The guard by the door tensed, his attention now fixed on the radio. Jennifer seized the opportunity to saw more aggressively at the zip tie. The plastic gave way suddenly, freeing her hands. She kept them hidden under the desk, out of sight. Knew she didn’t want the guard to become suspicious. Stealth and waiting for the right moment were key.

A dull thud sounded outside, followed by a brief burst of gunfire. The guard swore, moving to the window to look out. In that instant, Jennifer lunged for the desk, grabbing a heavy glass paperweight sitting on a stack of papers. As the guard turned back, she swung with all her strength, catching him on the temple.

He staggered, but didn’t fall. Jennifer struck again, putting her full weight behind the blow. This time he crumpled, his weapon clattering to the floor. Jennifer didn’t hesitate, snatching up the gun and checking that it was loaded, before sliding it into the back of her waistband. She was grateful Noah had insisted she learn basic firearms handling, despite her initial reluctance. She’d have to thank him for the training, because it made thinking in a chaotic situation easier.

More gunfire erupted outside. Through the window, Jennifer could see figures moving around the aircraft, taking cover as shots came from the darkness beyond the runway lights. She needed to move now, while confusion reigned.

Keeping low, Jennifer made her way to the door. The gunfire intensified, concentrated on the far side of the airstrip where most of Skinner’s men appeared to be engaged. Her path to the forest on this side looked clear.

Taking a deep breath, Jennifer eased the door open and slipped outside, staying in the building’s shadow. Twenty yards of open ground separated her from the relative safety of the trees. She’d have to sprint and pray no one was watching this section of the perimeter.

“Going somewhere, Miss Baptiste?”

Jennifer froze at the sound of Skinner’s voice behind her. Slowly, she turned, raising the gun she’d taken from the guard.

Skinner stood ten feet away, his own weapon trained on her. Blood trickled from a cut on his cheek, and his expression was murderous.

“Your boyfriend is causing quite the commotion,” he said conversationally. “But it won’t help you. Drop the gun.”

Jennifer’s hand remained steady. “No.”

Surprise flickered across Skinner’s face. “You won’t shoot me. You don’t have it in you.”

“Before the Amirs made my life a living nightmare, you’d have been right,” Jennifer replied, thinking of how much she’d changed since being thrust into this dangerous world. “But that was before men like you forced me to adapt.” She took careful aim, moving her finger onto the trigger the way Noah taught her. “I don’t want to kill you. But I will if I have to.”

Skinner’s eyes narrowed, assessing her. What he saw must have convinced him she was serious. “Perhaps we can negotiate after all,” he said, his tone shifting to something more conciliatory. “As you pointed out earlier, Amir isn’t the most reliable employer.”

“Put down your weapon,” Jennifer demanded, not trusting him for a second.

Before Skinner could respond, a barrage of gunfire erupted from the far side of the airstrip. He flinched, glancing briefly toward the sound. It was all the opening Jennifer needed.

She fired twice, aiming low. The first shot missed, but the second caught Skinner in the thigh. He howled in pain, his leg buckling as he fired wildly in return. Jennifer dove to the side, feeling the heat of a bullet as it passed inches from her face.

Rolling to her feet, she sprinted for the tree line, zigzagging to make herself a harder target. Behind her, Skinner was shouting, but his voice faded as she plunged into the darkness of the forest. She kept running, branches whipping at her face and arms, the gun clutched tightly in her hand.

A figure stepped suddenly into her path. Jennifer raised the weapon, finger tightening on the trigger.

“Whoa, easy!” a familiar voice called out. “It’s me.”

“Noah.” His name escaped her lips like a prayer as she lowered the gun. In the growing light of dawn, she could see him clearly: battered, bloodied, but gloriously alive. Relief flooded through her so intensely her knees nearly buckled.

He closed the distance between them in two strides, pulling her against him in a fierce embrace. “I told you I’d find you,” he murmured into her hair.

Jennifer clung to him, feeling the solid reality of his body against hers. “Skinner said you were—”

“Takes more than a few mercenaries to stop me,” Noah assured her, pulling back to examine her face. “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head. “But we need to move. I shot Skinner, but he’s still out there.”

Noah’s eyebrows raised slightly, an expression of admiration crossing his face. “You shot Skinner?”

“In the leg,” Jennifer clarified. “Like you taught me.”

A slow smile spread across Noah’s features. “Remind me never to underestimate you.” He raised a finger and shook it at her. “But I didn’t teach you to shoot your adversary in the leg. I told you if you had to fire your weapon, you always go for the kill shot. Head or heart.”

“We can discuss my lack of killer instinct later,” Jennifer said, glancing nervously back toward the airstrip. “Right now, I’d rather get as far from here as possible.”

Noah nodded, turning serious again. “Marcel is waiting with transport for us about a mile north, so we can get out of here. Caleb and the rest of my family are providing our diversion.” He gestured toward the continuing sounds of conflict. “Think you can make it?”

Jennifer straightened, lifting her chin. “Lead the way.”

As they moved deeper into the forest, the sounds of battle fading behind them, Jennifer felt something shift within her. The woman who exited that cabin during the storm—still partly the frivolous interior designer, still learning to navigate this dangerous new world—was gone. In her place was someone stronger, someone who could face men like Jakob Skinner without flinching, someone worthy of standing beside a man like Noah.

Whatever came next—and she had no illusions that their troubles were over—she would be ready.