Fatal Flashback by Kellie VanHorn

Author:Kellie VanHorn
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2019-09-05T16:30:11+00:00

ELEVEN

Ashley couldn’t see where they were going as the truck jostled and bounced over the uneven dirt road, but at least they were both still alive. She’d thought, for a moment there, they’d kill Logan. When the man had hit him with the butt of his gun instead, her legs had gone so weak she’d nearly collapsed.

His breathing was slow and steady, his eyes still closed, as he lay facing her on the hot metal of the truck bed. Ropes chafed at her ankles and wrists, bound behind her back, and the smell of exhaust choked her.

Logan stirred as the truck slowed to a stop.

“Logan?” she whispered.

He blinked a few times, his gaze snapping into focus when he saw her face. The back gate dropped open with a loud clang. Somebody barked rapid commands in Spanish and the man who’d ridden in the back with them, his gun always aimed at her chest, yanked on the ropes around her ankles.

She sat up, scooching herself toward the tailgate as the man pulled and stealing a quick glance at their surroundings. They were parked in the open courtyard of a large, square adobe structure—inside the presidio, she guessed. The walls were half in ruins, but a long, low building ran along the south side, close to where the truck was parked. Four or five open doorways suggested multiple rooms.

Beyond the walls, a little town—she assumed it was San Vicente—sat on a low hill a mile or two away. In the other direction lay the river, the Chisos Mountains and the United States.

Freedom.

But first they had to get out.

The men hauled her and Logan through one of the open doorways into a long room. Four high, narrow windows revealed glimpses of blue sky in the wall with the door. Heavy wood lintels stood above the door and windows, and hewed logs supported the roof. An empty niche in the back wall probably held a religious statue long ago. The only other items in the room were a single chair and a stack of decaying baskets.

“Tie them up.” The order came from the man with the American accent. Working with a drug cartel to get rich. Ashley couldn’t stop her nose from wrinkling in disgust. If she could figure out who he was, would that help her identify the insider with the park service?

She wanted to ask questions but decided to keep her mouth shut for the moment. They tied her to the room’s lone chair and dragged Logan over to the end wall, looping his tied wrists over a hook above his head. Keeping him alive, thankfully. But why? Jimenez would never let either of them leave alive.

The answer, she knew, lay hidden inside the secret pouch, where she’d stowed the map after meeting her contact. Once they had it, she and Logan were as good as dead.

“Good.” The American gestured to the man who’d driven the truck. “Manuel, report to the boss.”

Jimenez. Did that mean he was here? Or were they merely calling him?

Across the room, Logan’s head drooped and he groaned as he lifted it again.

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