The Mercenary. Allison Leigh

they were fairly flying along the surface.

      Her breath caught in her throat at the inescapably wild beauty of the landscape. Looking past Tyler, her gaze clung to the sight. This was the land of her birth. God, it had been so very long. She knew they had to be miles and miles away from the little mountainous piece of land her family had farmed for generations. But that didn’t stop her from feeling a tug deep inside her.

      “How long will it take for us to get there? To la Fortuna?” Maybe she wouldn’t be going home, but if there was any chance at all that she could make sure that Franco did, she had to take it.

      “Long enough.” He was eyeing the river closely. “A week or so, on the outside. Assuming I’ve figured our location accurately enough.”

      She nodded. A week. She could handle that if she had to.

      “Aren’t you going to pitch a fit?”

      Her eyebrows rose. “Should I?”

      “Most women would.”

      She objected to that, but knew there was little point in saying so. He was just like Gerald. He would think whatever he chose to, regardless of the circumstances. It wouldn’t matter whether he was miles away from the truth, or he—

      “Hold on.” Tyler’s command was terse and it effectively jerked her out of her memories. “We’re coming up on some rough water.”

      She whirled around to see the rapids were nearly upon them. “Rough?” She nearly choked. The water churned white and vicious among the rocks. “Why can’t we—” She broke off the rest of the question. They couldn’t go on land and carry the boat around the rapids because the banks on either side went nearly straight up. “I don’t like traveling with you!” She curled her fingers around the hard, rubbery handles incorporated into the boat’s design.

      Tyler had already pulled in the outboard and was using the oar to help guide the suddenly rocking and plunging boat. Her heart rate escalated so fast that she felt dizzy with it. The roar of the water filled the air and she wondered why she hadn’t been aware of it sooner. “What do I do?”

      “Unless you want one really rough swim, stay in the boat.”

      She looked back at him, only to find his eyes lit with an unholy gleam. “You’re enjoying this!”

      His teeth flashed. “Gets the blood pumping, doesn’t it?”

      She frowned, then couldn’t help the startled scream when the boat went into a nearly vertical plunge. One of Tyler’s black bags—the one that he was nearly rabid about keeping near him—started to slide out from the net and she made a grab for it. She barely caught it with her fingertips even as she fell forward when the boat leveled for an all-too-brief moment. Water poured over the side and her arm felt nearly yanked out at the shoulder from where she still held on with one hand.

      “What the hell are you doing? I told you to hold on!” Tyler’s fingers dragged her back by the shirt.

      “Then hold on to your own bloody bags! Ahh!” She shoved his precious black bag at him and was scrambling to get a good grip on the side of the boat once again. But it was too wet, too slippery, and the boat seemed to be free-falling again.

      Tyler’s fingers caught at Marisa’s shirt, but he wasn’t fast enough and like a rag doll tossed aside by a careless hand, she disappeared over the side of the inflatable. She screamed, her arms waving as the rough water dragged her under. Tyler cursed a blue streak, leaning over with the oar. “Grab it!”

      She was close enough for him to see the terror in her eyes, close enough for him to hear her coughing as water clogged her nose and mouth, but not close enough for him to pull in.

      He yelled at her again to grab the oar, could see that she was trying. But the boat was spinning one way and she the other. In the back of his mind was another boat, years ago that had capsized.

      In an instant, he made the decision and pulled the oar in. He wasn’t going to get to her. Not this way.

      He ran a practiced eye over the riverbank, picked a spot heavy with overhanging trees. Muscles straining against the power of the ferocious water, using the oar as a rudder, he started inching the boat toward the spot. Before he could get close enough to the boulder-strewn bank to batter the inflatable to pieces, he dropped the oar and grabbed one of the tree branches, nearly getting ripped out of the boat as he fought the momentum of the river.

      Hand over hand, legs wedged in the boat, he pulled through the churning water until he was past the worst of the rocks. With one hand wrapped around the thick branch, he grabbed the one duffel that he didn’t dare lose, and heaved it far up onto the bank, scrambling up after it.

      Free of its human anchor, the boat shot past the rocks, tearing off down the white, frothing water. He didn’t spare a moment worrying about it, but ran after Marisa, slipping and sliding over the sharply inclined riverbank. “I’m Alpha Force, for crissakes,” he muttered. “Not the flippin’ Coast Guard.”

      Come on, Marisa. Open your eyes.

      The voice seemed to come from a long way off. Marisa struggled against the weight in her chest. Maybe, despite her sins, God had invited her to heaven after all.

      You’re okay. Come on, baby, that’s it. Breathe.

      She coughed. Her lungs burned, her throat was on fire. She coughed again and felt her head being tilted as water dribbled past her lips.

      “Good girl.”

      It was Tyler, she realized weakly. Most assuredly not The Father. She started to speak, but couldn’t as she coughed up more water.

      “Shh. Take it easy. We’re not going anywhere just now.”

      She forced her eyelids up, looking at him through her water-spiked lashes. He was soaked to the skin, too. “No soy muerto.”

      “Yeah, that’s it. Muerto. Not muerto. Definitely not muerto.” He smoothed her hair away from her face. “You’re not dead. You’re gonna be all right. Just rest.”

      Closing her eyes was a relief. The coughing spasms began to slow. Only then the shivers began. And she felt his presence leave for a moment, but then he was back and she recognized the crinkling sound of that silver blanket as he wrapped her in it and pulled her right onto his lap, holding her close there on the bank of that deceptively peaceful river.

      He was so warm. So solid.

      He made no annoying comments. No accusations that she’d brought the incident down upon herself through her own stupidity. He didn’t shift her around as if he couldn’t wait to get her away from him. He didn’t try to cop a feel.

      He didn’t do anything but hold her securely, until the shudders racking her body started to ease.