against her back, keeping her still. She glanced from him to Tyson, tears continually creeping down her face.
Tyson reached out with one hand, covered by a fingerless glove, and used a knuckle to wipe her tears away. “Can you walk?” She nodded. He responded in kind. “Then, let’s get the hell outta here.”
Once up, Affrica paused, needing her pack. Ross stopped her from going back. “I have it.” He offered her a drink but kept it brief. “You’re in the middle.”
Off they went, scrambling over rocks. Well, she scrambled, they didn’t seem bothered by any of it. Tyson paused and mumbled something. She collapsed against the smooth surface of the nearest rock, grateful for a breather. Two more men showed up, almost like they materialized from the rocks themselves. Osten “Baby Boy” Scoleri and Scott “Harrier” Leighton, commander of the Megalodon Team.
Weapon over his shoulder, Osten immediately hurried to her and sank to his knees. “Can you keep on or do you need medical now?”
“I can go on,” she uttered, praying it was true.
His brown eyes searched hers. He was their corpsman, and she knew he needed to absolutely positive. “Okay then. Wait here.” He left to join the other three.
Content not to move, she sat there and stared at the four men. It was like something out of a damn movie. Battle-hardened men with guns who came to rescue her. Tyson with the camo skullcap, Scott had a boonie hat on, and the other two had on eight-corners in the same sand color.
Three turned to her while Osten kept a lookout and approached. “Where’s Miles?” Tyson asked.
“Probably with them.” She shrugged with nonchalance she in no way felt. “He’s working with them.”
“Then, he’s a dead man,” Ross stated instantly, ice coating his words.
“No. We came for Affrica,” Scott said. “Not for vengeance. She needs to get out of here.”
Their concern touched her. “I have the pictures I need and locales of the graves.”
“Graves?” Scott’s cornflower blue eyes narrowed dangerously.
She quickly informed them of what she’d been doing there. Anger lined each of their expressions by the time she finished.
“We’ll handle that later,” Scott growled. “Let’s get her out of here.”
So they got up and moving. She remained in the middle, protected, as they pressed on. She nearly cried in relief when they uncovered a hidden Jeep, and she climbed in. Head back, eyes closed, she allowed Osten to see to her injuries as they drove away from her own nightmarish hell.
Chapter Five
Reeve stood at the dealership, overlooking the two cars before him. One a coupe and the other a convertible. He loved his Enzo but all he could hear was Affrica’s comment of needing to prove something. Sure, this wasn’t exactly the dirty Jeep she seemed comfortable driving but it also wasn’t an Enzo Ferrari.
“I like the convertible.” He’d taken both styles for a road test; now, he was just deciding which one to order for himself.
“Very good, sir,” the salesman said.
He flashed the man a grin. “Let’s go build one.”
Together, they walked to the office for some privacy while they built his Jaguar XKR convertible. When he left later, he was happy. A kyanite blue metallic exterior color, black top, warm charcoal luxury seats of soft grain leather with ivory contrast stitch. Topping it off, he’d ordered dark mesh aluminum veneer. He was pleased with his purchase.
Heading home, he swung off to see his brother. Parking in the drive, he sighed and climbed out. He couldn’t forget Scott telling him to stay away from Affrica.
What was the harm if they were both consenting adults? Really, surely, her brother couldn’t find fault then. A cold chill raced up his spine as not only Hondo’s face rushed to mind but also Maverick’s. Yep, they’d find fault.
Reeve scowled and opened the front door. They weren’t babies in need of supervision. He closed the door behind him and slowed
Tyson reached out with one hand, covered by a fingerless glove, and used a knuckle to wipe her tears away. “Can you walk?” She nodded. He responded in kind. “Then, let’s get the hell outta here.”
Once up, Affrica paused, needing her pack. Ross stopped her from going back. “I have it.” He offered her a drink but kept it brief. “You’re in the middle.”
Off they went, scrambling over rocks. Well, she scrambled, they didn’t seem bothered by any of it. Tyson paused and mumbled something. She collapsed against the smooth surface of the nearest rock, grateful for a breather. Two more men showed up, almost like they materialized from the rocks themselves. Osten “Baby Boy” Scoleri and Scott “Harrier” Leighton, commander of the Megalodon Team.
Weapon over his shoulder, Osten immediately hurried to her and sank to his knees. “Can you keep on or do you need medical now?”
“I can go on,” she uttered, praying it was true.
His brown eyes searched hers. He was their corpsman, and she knew he needed to absolutely positive. “Okay then. Wait here.” He left to join the other three.
Content not to move, she sat there and stared at the four men. It was like something out of a damn movie. Battle-hardened men with guns who came to rescue her. Tyson with the camo skullcap, Scott had a boonie hat on, and the other two had on eight-corners in the same sand color.
Three turned to her while Osten kept a lookout and approached. “Where’s Miles?” Tyson asked.
“Probably with them.” She shrugged with nonchalance she in no way felt. “He’s working with them.”
“Then, he’s a dead man,” Ross stated instantly, ice coating his words.
“No. We came for Affrica,” Scott said. “Not for vengeance. She needs to get out of here.”
Their concern touched her. “I have the pictures I need and locales of the graves.”
“Graves?” Scott’s cornflower blue eyes narrowed dangerously.
She quickly informed them of what she’d been doing there. Anger lined each of their expressions by the time she finished.
“We’ll handle that later,” Scott growled. “Let’s get her out of here.”
So they got up and moving. She remained in the middle, protected, as they pressed on. She nearly cried in relief when they uncovered a hidden Jeep, and she climbed in. Head back, eyes closed, she allowed Osten to see to her injuries as they drove away from her own nightmarish hell.
Chapter Five
Reeve stood at the dealership, overlooking the two cars before him. One a coupe and the other a convertible. He loved his Enzo but all he could hear was Affrica’s comment of needing to prove something. Sure, this wasn’t exactly the dirty Jeep she seemed comfortable driving but it also wasn’t an Enzo Ferrari.
“I like the convertible.” He’d taken both styles for a road test; now, he was just deciding which one to order for himself.
“Very good, sir,” the salesman said.
He flashed the man a grin. “Let’s go build one.”
Together, they walked to the office for some privacy while they built his Jaguar XKR convertible. When he left later, he was happy. A kyanite blue metallic exterior color, black top, warm charcoal luxury seats of soft grain leather with ivory contrast stitch. Topping it off, he’d ordered dark mesh aluminum veneer. He was pleased with his purchase.
Heading home, he swung off to see his brother. Parking in the drive, he sighed and climbed out. He couldn’t forget Scott telling him to stay away from Affrica.
What was the harm if they were both consenting adults? Really, surely, her brother couldn’t find fault then. A cold chill raced up his spine as not only Hondo’s face rushed to mind but also Maverick’s. Yep, they’d find fault.
Reeve scowled and opened the front door. They weren’t babies in need of supervision. He closed the door behind him and slowed
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