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pocket. Maybe he had a panic button sewn into his clothing.” He snorted. “And another one in his pajamas—in case you tried to attack him.”
    “I thought about stabbing him or something. I decided I wouldn’t get out alive.”
    “Good thinking.”
    “What are we going to do?”
    “Put some distance between us and the house.”
    As he finished speaking, he heard someone running across the patio and cursed under his breath.
    As the footsteps veered off to the right, he whispered, “Come on.”
    When she didn’t move, he reached for her hand and squeezed her fingers. “Now.”
    Her attention snapped back to him, and she nodded. When he crawled farther from the house, she followed.
    He stayed low until they were in deeper cover well outside the circle of illumination, then eased behind a tree and stood. When she joined him, he could feel her shaking.
    “I thought we’d done the hard part,” she murmured.
    “It’s going to be okay,” he said, the assurance automatic. He wrapped her in his arms, holding her for just a moment. She clung to him, but he knew they couldn’t stay where they were.
    When he eased away, she made a small sound of protest.
    The moon gave some light, but not enough to see well. Unfortunately, they couldn’t risk using a flashlight to make their way through the thick vegetation. He moved cautiously toward the center of the island, on the lookout for wild animals if there were any. Earlier when he’d made this crossing, he’d stayed off the trails. But both he and Camille were having trouble negotiating the wilderness in the darkness. When they came to a path going in the right direction, he knew they would make better time if they used it.
    After weighing the pros and cons of getting out of the underbrush, he said, “Stay close. We need to put distance between us and them.”
    She nodded, and he started along the narrow path, hearing her keeping pace with him.
    They had traveled another hundred yards when his next step might have been his last. Instead of coming down on solid ground, his foot broke through a thin layer of matting, and he started pitching forward into a gaping hole.
    He would have gone down into the pit below the surface of the trail, but Camille’s arm shot out, and she grabbed the back of his shirt, slowing his fall.
    She couldn’t hold him up for long, but she stopped his downward momentum, and he was able to grab the side of the pit with one hand and keep himself from tumbling in.
    She kept her fingers twisted in the back of the shirt, but he could feel the material sliding upward. Carefully he adjusted his position, bracing his right boot against the side of the hole while grabbing the edge with his left hand. When he felt more stable, he began to pull himself inch by inch back to solid ground.
    Camille was still grasping his shirt when he rolled to his side, pulling her on top of him.
    They sprawled together in a tangle of arms and legs, both breathing hard.
    “Thanks,” he whispered.
    She pressed against him, her cheek against his shoulder, and he clasped her close.
    For long moments neither of them moved.
    “What was that?” she whispered.
    “A pit trap. That must be the reason Zanov wanted you to stay out of the jungle. Not because of wild animals.
    He pulled out his flashlight, bent over the excavation, and risked a quick look into the darkness below.
    At the bottom he saw rows of sharpened stakes sticking upward, ready to pierce the flesh of anyone who tumbled into the trap. Beside him, Camille gasped when she saw them.
    “That would have. . .”
    “Been pretty nasty,” he finished her sentence.
    She was still staring downward into the darkness when he pushed himself to his feet and brushed the leaves off his clothing. Reaching for her hand, he pulled her up.
    “Someone will figure out what happened. We’d better put some distance between us and this thing. And stay off the trails.”
    “You think there are more of these?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Only