Page 45 of Her Mercenary

“What about the other slaves at the lodge? Who’s going to save them?” she asked, pulling me back to the current moment.

“I’m working on it.”

“Work faster.” Her chin lifted, defiant, defensive. Ready for a fight. No, there was absolutely nothing extremely emotional and mentally fragile about Samantha Greene.

“Fast is messy. I’ll do what I can.”

“How can I help?” she asked.

Staring at her, I frowned, utterly confused by this woman.

How can she help? She wanted to go back and help the other slaves, instead of saving herself?

“There are two American children,” she said quickly while she knew she had my attention. “A boy and a girl. Twins, I think. You’ve seen them. They were brought in the day you came to the other house.”

What a monster this woman must think I am. What a fool she is.

“There’s something wrong with the boy,” she said desperately. “I think he has a medical condition. They need out. They’re too young ... They need your help.”

I realized then that Samantha had no clue that everyone in the lodge was scheduled to be on a boat in six days, shipped to Africa, and never be seen or heard from again.

“I told you I’m working on it.” I pushed to my feet and began pacing, my frustration with how off this mission had gone coming to a boiling point.

“It’s not enough,” she snapped back. “We have to go back and get them. We have to—”

“Get us both killed in the process?” I barked back. “Who would save them then?”

A tense silence settled between us.

“We have to get them,” she said again stubbornly.

“How about I get you out of this mess first.” I gestured to the jungle outside the cave. “Then I’ll focus on the others.”

“Where are we?”

“The Sierra Madre Mountains, in an area known as Dead Man’s Trail. I have a plane on standby at a small hanger forty-seven miles north of here. It’s ready to take you home as soon as you arrive. I just have to get you there.”

I just have to get her there. Dump her with Bear, revise my plan, return to my focus, and never see this distraction again.

Just get her there.

23

SAM

Take you home.

Home—the single word was like a punch to my chest. Tears welled in my eyes, a rush of emotions threatening to take over.

I couldn’t break down in front of this man. I couldn’t think about home—not yet. I pushed it away, the sudden visions of my mother, my dog, my bed, my shower, my real life, for fear the emotion would weaken me. I needed to be alert and ready, focused solely on survival and not on home.

I fidgeted with the hem of the T-shirt Roman had given me. It smelled like him.

I realized then that clothing—clean clothes—was one of the little things in life that I’d taken for granted before my captivity ... one among so many. The moment my bare skin was covered and concealed, it felt like I’d been given a shot of courage. I felt less vulnerable, more confident, more me.

The old me.

I didn’t know who I’d become, but I knew that if I made it out of this jungle alive, I would emerge a completely different woman.