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Ayla slouched in her seat and stared at the road ahead. The green of the rainforest encroached on both sides of the narrow two-lane highway and there was a steep berm on her right. Puffy white clouds seemed to hang within touching distance of the hill as they approached.

They were in another sedan. If she hadn’t miscounted, this was the third vehicle Oz had driven.

She’d asked him about it because it seemed odd that he had a fleet of cars at his disposal.

Apparently, though, he was borrowing from his friends because changing what they were riding around in would make it more difficult to track them.

It startled her. She thought they were safe once they’d lost the Russians from the café, but Oz believed differently. Since this was outside her experience, she had to trust his take on the situation.

This car was the nicest of the three, although it had to be twenty years old. There were only a few light dings on the exterior, although some of the silver paint had flaked off. The best benefit, as far as Ayla was concerned, was the comfortable seats.

They were nearly at the one-hour mark on this trek and it didn’t appear as if they were close to their destination yet.

Oz kept his attention focused on the road.

He warned her he wouldn’t chat, that he wanted to concentrate on his driving.

She’d wondered about it until the first logging truck roared by at a speed fast enough to cause the sedan to shake.

There was a steady stream of trucks, not only carrying logs, but other types, too.

Everyone was in a hurry, or so it seemed.

Except for Oz.

She lost track of how many vehicles passed them. Some drivers added a horn or a one-finger salute or both as they zoomed by. The road ahead was empty for the moment and a glance in the side view mirror showed Ayla no one was on their bumper, so she took a chance. “Why are you driving so slowly?”

“I’m doing the speed limit.” His gaze remained on the road.

“Nobody else is. Why are you?” Straightening in her seat, she shifted more toward him.

There was a moment of silence. “Because you’re in the car. I promised I’d keep you and our baby safe.”

Ayla contemplated that as they started up the steep hill with the low clouds.

A truck going in the other direction topped the rise and headed toward them.

It was over the line and into their lane.

Oz swerved onto the shoulder, but it was narrow and the berm stopped them from going any farther off the road.

She clutched the door handle, and scrunching her eyes closed, tried not to scream.

The sedan rocked so violently, she bit her lip to stay quiet. Only when the motion stopped did she open her eyes again. Somehow, they’d survived.

“That,” Oz said calmly as he moved back into the lane and continued up the hill, “is why I don’t want to chat.”

She wished she could take the near-miss in stride the way he seemed to be, but her heart continued to race. Now she understood why he drove the speed limit. If they’d been flying up the hill, Oz might not have had enough time to react.

Enough time to get them out of the way.

It took a good twenty minutes for Ayla to stop trembling. When she finally regained control, she turned farther toward the driver’s side. Oziah West, mercenary. He looked intimidating and dangerous. He didn’t look like someone any sane woman would trust.

And yet…

And yet he was putzing along at the speed limit to ensure her safety.

Despite the heat that continued to arc between them, Oz stayed on his side of the bed last night.

He hadn’t tried to use the situation to his advantage.

Before she woke up, he’d gone out and returned with toast for her because he read it helped with morning sickness.

He’d run his own breakfast menu past her to make sure nothing would make her queasy before he ordered room service.

There were bigger things, too.

He stepped in to shield her from the gang at the bus station.

One man against more than a dozen. The odds hadn’t stopped him from coming to her aid.

The second rescue on Friday had been every bit as risky for him, but he fought those Russian men who thought she was her sister.

He’d gotten her out of the hotel and taken her somewhere he called a safe house.

Oz had stuck by her side ever since then. He even volunteered to help her find her twin. He didn’t have to do this. She couldn’t pay him, and he never asked her for anything.

It wasn’t because of the baby. Even before the pregnancy test, he’d been protective of her. In fact, they’d met in that hotel bar because Oz saw some guy bothering her and came over to help.

Honorable.

That wasn’t a word Ayla would have attributed to a mercenary, but the more time she spent with Oz, the more the label fit.

That raised more questions. He’d dropped a bomb about his parents being in prison but provided no details.

She wanted those details. Maybe she even needed them.

At some point, Oz would surely want to introduce his child to its grandparents.

Ayla opened her mouth to quiz him, remembered almost getting smashed by the truck, and tabled this discussion for a better—safer—opportunity.

This wasn’t the only topic they were going to address either.

If he planned to co-parent with her, she needed to know how often he’d be around.

Hell, she needed a lot more information, period, about the man who’d fathered her baby.

No matter how reticent he was.

She squared her shoulders. It was up to her to protect this child. Even if that meant shielding him or her from their own father.

Oz pulled to a stop in front of the inn in San Isidro but left the car running.

He tried to release his grip on the steering wheel, but his muscles didn’t want to relax enough to let go.

He’d made the trip between Trujillo and this part of the country often—the drug lord’s hacienda was nearby—and this was the first time it had taken over two hours. Normally it was a ninety-minute drive.

Normally, though, he only had himself to worry about.

He turned his head, his gaze settling on Ayla.

She’d fallen asleep about fifteen minutes ago.

It still took him a moment to get used to seeing her with dark hair, despite her wearing the wig for two days.

Oz forced himself to let go of the steering wheel, but he made no move to wake her up or to turn off the car.

Bringing her to San Isidro had its own level of risk.

The innkeeper knew he was Special Forces, so walking in with Ayla and claiming her as his wife was going to raise eyebrows, but Senor Alvarez was retired from the presidential brigade, Puerto Jardin’s Special Forces. Oz could count on his discretion.

There were two problems, though. First, the innkeeper would think that Oz’s wife would know the truth about his career. Second, Senora Alvarez had put two and two together and knew what he was, too. He’d considered it and decided it was worth the small risk to keep his Pollita out of trouble.

Ayla had flown down to Puerto Jardin in a panic over her sister.

She’d been off balance and filled with fear for her twin, but now she was calming down.

Starting to think. Seeing things more clearly.

That left him on edge. If she figured out they weren’t actually looking for Iona, she would flay him alive.

That he’d lied to her, manipulated her, would make it worse.

Oz struggled to draw a full breath.

It wouldn’t matter that Baggs was heading up the search and that his team was helping on an ad hoc basis. She wanted to look. Psychic twin links were bullshit from everything he read online, but Ayla believed in it.

Oz reached for the ignition but stopped before turning off the car. He didn’t want to wake her up yet, and with the sun beating down, it was too hot to sit without air conditioning.

Ayla Desmond was more than he expected.

He’d known she was beautiful, and the small amount of talking they’d done that night had shown she was smart and had a sense of humor that he enjoyed.

What Oz hadn’t seen, hadn’t been aware of, was how fiercely loyal and protective she was.

She loved her sister, and so she ignored her phobia and flew down to help her. No questions, no hesitation.

His Pollita left him off balance, searching for solid ground, and the more time he spent with her, the more Oz doubted his life was ever going to be the same. Not because of the baby. Because of her. He’d just have to make sure she never learned he’d maneuvered her, even if it was for her own good.

Oz reached over to touch her shoulder, but before he could wake her, Ayla’s eyes opened. They were unfocused.

“Where am I?”

“We’re in San Isidro.”

She panicked. “The door is locked. Where am I? Where am I? ”

Before Oz could reassure her she could open the car door at any time, Ayla continued talking.

“The walls are a pale-yellow stucco. The ceiling has wooden slats—they’re décor, not structural—and there’s a matching lattice over the window.” Her hands came up, her fingers curled. “I can’t get the lattice off. It’s attached too solidly. Where am I?”

Now Oz moved. He rested his hand lightly on Ayla’s shoulder and gave her a gentle squeeze. “Wake up, Pollita. You’re safe. Everything’s fine.”

Her gaze remained unfocused.

“Come on, Pollita. Wake up.” With more harshness, he said, “Ayla, wake up. Now.”

That did it. She blinked a few times, her eyes locking on his. “Oz?”

“It’s me. You’re safe.”

Ayla shuddered and her hand came up, wrapped around his wrist, and she gripped him.

“I saw where Io was. She’s locked in a room.

She can’t get out and she’s…fuzzy. Mentally fuzzy.

There’s a large bed with an avocado-green blanket.

The floors are wood and there’s a sconce on either side of the bed.

Everything looks as if it’s high quality. ”

“You told me you can’t connect when one of you is sleeping. It was a dream, Pollita.”

She tightened her grip on his wrist. “It wasn’t a dream. I know the difference between a dream and when I’m linking with Io. My sister is being held against her will and she can’t find a way to free herself.”

“Ayla—”

She cut him off. “I know you don’t believe me, but it’s the truth. I was connected to my sister, seeing through her eyes, and this is the first clue I’ve gotten.”

“Even if it is the truth, that room could be anywhere.”

Frowning, Ayla said, “Yes, but now I know Io is alive. Not picking up so much as a glimmer from her since I arrived had me scared that maybe I was too late. She didn’t realize I was reading her.” Her frown deepened. “My sister is usually three steps ahead of everyone else. Why was she slow?”

Oz didn’t want to entertain this as a real possibility, but Ayla was steadfast. Humoring her, he said, “She might have been drugged. If she’d just come around, it would explain why you described her thoughts as fuzzy.”

“Drugs.” Ayla loosened her hold on him, but she didn’t let go. “That’s why I didn’t pick up anything. If she was unconscious, of course, I wouldn’t be able to sense her.”

“That’s logical,” Oz agreed, still going along with her.

Ayla looked around. “You said we’re in San Isidro?”

“Yeah, we’re parked in front of the town’s only inn. We’ll stay here overnight. I’m going to?—”

She interrupted him again. “You used to work for a drug lord who lives around here somewhere, right?”

Scowling, Oz said, “Senor Vargas. His hacienda isn’t that far from town.”

“A drug lord would have access to the kind of narcotics that would leave Io unconscious.”

Fuck, he needed to cut this off at the pass. “Pollita, anyone in any country in the world can get their hands on drugs. I know you want to find your sister, but it’s unlikely Vargas is your primary suspect.”

“I told you that the connection to my sister is enhanced by proximity. If we’re close to Vargas’s?—”

“No.” Her expression turned mulish, so he added an explanation. “We’re not that far from Trujillo. You could just as easily be picking up something from the city. If you’re actually getting anything at all and didn’t just have a bad dream.”

“All right,” Ayla said easily. Too easily as far as Oz was concerned. “You said this is the only inn in San Isidro?”

“Yes,” he said slowly. “Just so you know, I’m going to tell the innkeeper you’re my wife. He won’t let us share a room otherwise, and I don’t want you down the hall. Don’t look shocked or start arguing with me. Keeping you close is the only way I can ensure your safety.”

“Okay.”

Her quick agreement should reassure him, but it made Oz tense. They were going to need to discuss safety precautions further. He could feel it. He turned off the car. “Come on, Pollita. Let’s get a room.” Without waiting for agreement, he got out, rounded the hood, and helped Ayla out.

“Our bags?” she asked as he guided her up the steps.

“I’ll get them after I have you settled.” Oz opened the door to the inn. Instead of a lobby with a check-in desk, they walked into a large room that was a combination of restaurant and tavern. At this time of the morning, it was empty.

They were nearly to the bar when Senora Alvarez appeared. She smiled when she recognized him. Her gaze shifted to Ayla and her smile became quizzical. “Senorita Desmond, you’re back so quickly. Why did you change your hair color?”

Ayla turned and grabbed his forearm. “I told you Io came here. I told you!”