Off the Rails by Jill Sorenson

Author:Jill Sorenson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Loveswept
Published: 2016-12-13T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

She woke with a start, pressing a hand to her wet cheek.

It was raining. Little droplets pelted the leaves overhead and slipped between the branches, landing on her upturned face. Ian continued to snore beside her, eyes closed. His chest rose and fell with steady breaths. She stayed snuggled up next to him, relishing the warmth of his embrace. The rain was gentle enough to ignore, and there was no place she’d rather be.

The irritation she’d felt with him earlier had faded. She blamed her reaction on lack of sleep and overabundance of hormones. She’d been on an emotional roller coaster the past few days. One moment she was fighting tears, trembling with unease. The next she was ogling Ian’s hard body, fresh from the shower. He’d seemed aware of her mood change after she’d showered. Instead of keeping his eyes politely averted, he’d stared at her exposed flesh. Worse, he hadn’t bothered to cover his own. He’d stepped out of the stall dripping wet, penis dangling.

Dios mío. Her pulse raced just thinking about it.

Even with a towel wrapped around his waist, she could see the size and shape of his male parts. It was difficult to ignore that area when she was on her knees before him. The damp towel clung to his organ, outlining the tip. After he put on his pants, her focus shifted to his torso. His broad shoulders, biceps flexing as he brushed his teeth. She knew he’d noticed her preoccupation with his lean physique. He’d rubbed it in by waltzing around shirtless.

She hadn’t known whether to slap him again or jump on him.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, threatening heavier rain. She sat up to study the dark clouds on the horizon. Then she spotted a caravan of army vehicles on the dirt road leading to the camp. “Ian,” she said, grasping his arm. “Wake up.”

“What is it?” he mumbled.

“La migra.”

He bolted upright and rubbed his eyes. “Fuck,” he said, glancing from the road to the thick copse of trees behind them. “Get ready to run.”

She folded the tarp with shaking hands and shoved it into her tote bag. Within seconds, the immigration police had entered the little valley. One of the vehicles screeched to a stop and uniformed men piled out, wielding clubs.

“Que Dios los bendiga,” she whispered.

An officer swung his club at the first man in his path. The man fell onto the wet ground, blood trickling from his mouth.

“God isn’t here,” Ian said. “Go now, before they see us.”

“What are you going to do?”

He drew the gun from his holster. “Cover you.”

She bit the edge of her fist as the mayhem below continued. The other vehicles formed a circle around the camp. Two heavily armed men guarded the boundaries, shouting orders, while their companions rounded up the passengers. They appeared to be taking everyone in the vicinity. Maria said another prayer, this time for Sarai. If the girl hadn’t found a good hiding place, she’d be captured—and there was nothing they could do about it.

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