Page 78 of Her Mercenary

I scrambled backward on my butt, trying to scream but finding nothing but sand in my throat.

The man was wearing ripped army fatigues that were soiled with blood and dirt. Specks of dead leaves littered shaggy black hair that looked like tar against gray skin, almost translucent, devoid of blood.

His face was completely unrecognizable, both eyes swollen shut, each grotesquely puffy and bruised, his lips bloodied and busted. Insects swarmed his exposed skin, dipping in and out of the gaping wound that opened his throat.

The letter C was cut into his cheek.

34

SAM

“Are you okay?” Roman’s sharp voice hardly penetrated the whomp, whomp, whomp between my ears.

I was lifted from the ground, then steadied by two strong hands.

“Sam—”

Startling out of my stupor, I nodded feverishly. “Yes, yes. I’m fine.”

“Can you stand?” Roman frantically studied me as if I were the one on the ground with my throat slashed.

“Yes.” I swatted away his hands. “I’m fine.”

“Stay here.”

I watched as Roman approached the corpse. His body went rigid, his face as cold as ice.

“Roman?”

He knelt down and pressed his fingers to the man’s neck, despite the fact that he’d obviously been dead for some time. Roman examined the letter C etched into the man’s cheek, then checked the man’s wrists and ankles. Then he checked the man’s pockets, belt, and shoes, removing something from the man’s pocket and transferring it to his own. Finally, he sat back on his haunches and stared down at the dead man’s face.

I knew then this was no random person.

Then, to my utter shock, Roman gently placed his hand over the man’s heart, closed his eyes, and whispered a prayer.

I stepped closer, my body responding to the pain radiating off him. “Roman?”

“I need to get you out of here. Now.”

He pulled his gun from its holster and surged to his feet. “Let’s go.”

Leaving the dead man there, Roman grabbed my hand and pulled me through the jungle. His grip hurt, the sense of urgency in his step knocking me off balance.

“Roman,” I said when I stumbled. “Roman.”

But he ignored me, hyper-focused on the path ahead, fury swirling in his eyes.

I dug in my heels, dropped my weight, and yanked his arm. “Roman, stop!”

He whirled around.

“Who was that?” I asked.

“His name was Bear.”

Bear.

“The man who was supposed to get me on an airplane and take me home?”