Saint (18 page)

Above ground the others were loading
duffels and backpacks. “What am I carrying?”

“Nothing, Angel, “ Francis said easily.
“We’ve got it.”

Harris exited the bunker and spent a few
minutes readjusting the camouflage bushes into place. After that he checked
Joan’s pack, then Gabriel’s. “There will be some rough spots along the way,
particularly since we’re hopping over to the next peak before descending.”

“I can carry a pack,” she told him.

“You just worry about keeping up,” he
snapped, moving on to Francis’ pack to tighten a loose strap. “Stay between me
and Francis, or Francis and Gabe. Joan’s liable to drop off now and then and I
want you where one of us can see you at all times.”

“What about my other set of clothes? I can
at least carry those.”

“They’re already in one of the duffels.
Lock and load gentlemen,” he announced, heading toward the front of the line. “I
want to make it to the edge of this mountain by dark.”

* * * * *

Maria was nearly dead on her feet when
Harris finally called a halt for a short break. The sun was high overhead now and
the midafternoon heat was draining. They’d only been walking for a few hours
but it seemed like forever.

She sank to the ground, caring nothing
about what might be beneath her. All that mattered was that she get off her
feet. Unlike the men’s combat boots, and Gabriel’s western style ones, her thin
tennis shoes were no match for the uneven ground, jagged rocks, exposed roots,
gopher holes and gullies.

The week’s worth of workouts with Francis
and Gabriel hadn’t been enough to get her into shape for this kind of grueling
pace. Several times she’d lagged, only to be prodded by Gabe or teased by
Francis. If they were out to prove she was the weaker sex, this was one sure
way of doing it.

The men shed their packs and mingled around
the area, using the time to water various trees. She expected to see Francis or
Seth light up, but both refrained. Sensing this would probably be her last
chance for a while, she headed toward a copse of bushes off to the left. Every
step hurt.

She was halfway there when Gabriel stepped
into her path, bringing her up short. “Where do you think you’re going, sister?”

“Nature call. And I’m not your sister.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“I don’t need any help.”

“You can’t go off by yourself.”

“It’s only a few yards, I think I can
manage. If I see a snake, I’ll yell.” She felt him glowering at her back as she
made her way to the bushes. A glance over her shoulder before stepping behind
them satisfied her he’d stay where he was and wait. What she wouldn’t give for
an ice-cold Coke about now.

When she emerged from the brush, he was
halfway to her. “You certainly took long enough.”

“I don’t have the luxury of whipping it out
on any old tree.” She walked past him into the clearing and dropped to the
ground, removing her shoes.

Francis came over and stood looking down at
her, chewing on a toothpick. “What’s wrong, Angelface?”

“Nothing. I’m checking my shoes for rocks
and dirt. Remind me to buy hiking boots next time.”

“Let’s see.” He dropped down beside her,
drawing her feet onto his lap.

She pulled them back. Just because she
couldn’t throw knives and jog five miles without coughing up a lung didn’t mean
she was a total failure when it came to taking care of herself.

Francis grabbed her ankles and tugged them
on his lap, his hands skimming up and down the soles. “I have healing hands,
you know.”

Once he started rubbing and massaging she
wasn’t in any hurry to get her feet back. “I guess your palms bleed, too.”

“Well, there’s been talk. Feel good?”

She closed her eyes, sank into it. “Mmmm,
heaven. Where’s Joan?”

“He trailed off to check that we’re not
being followed and cover any tracks. How’s your neck?”

She blanked for a minute, then said, “It’s
fine.”

“Was he dreaming when he did that?”

“Who?”

“The colonel.”

She so did not want to have this
conversation again. “I’m going to tell you just like I told Joan and Gabriel, I
was trying to step up on the cot and lost my balance. It was dark, he tried to
catch me, end of story.”

“You’ll go to hell for lying, Angelface.”

She pulled her feet from his lap and put
her socks back on. “My last confession included stealing from Benito Juarez. Am
I going to hell for that too?”

“Nah, eye for an eye.”

Reaching for her shoes, she jammed the left
one on, then the right. “Just so you know, I’m not the kind of woman who allows
abuse. And I don’t think Seth Harris is the kind of man who enjoys abusing
women.”

“He wouldn’t hurt you intentionally.”

She pushed to her feet, bit back a groan and
stretched the kinked muscles in her back.

“Angelface, listen to me.” He looked up at
her seriously. “Sometimes it’s easy to misinterpret certain actions or
reactions. We’re not like other men. We’ve had the best and the worst of life
thrown our way, and in certain…circumstances, we can’t always control the
animal inside. If you need to talk, you can always come to me.”

“Thanks.” She smiled down at him because
for a guy who looked like he’d slit your throat for a buck, he really was very
sweet. “I have a question.”

“Shoot.”

“Who is Saint? Was it Will?”

He tried not to make a face. “Will, rest
his soul, could never be the man Saint is.”

“So…this Saint is still coming.”

He shrugged, rising to his feet. “Maybe.”

“What does he look like?”

“You’ll know him when you see him. I just
hope to God you never have to see him.”

“Sounds like—”

Unceremoniously, Francis shoved her to the
ground, calling out, “Chopper! Hit the trees!”

Gabriel grabbed the binoculars and shinnied
up the trunk of the tree next her. She closed her eyes against the chunks of bark
raining down on her head and tried to rise, but Francis planted his boot square
on her butt, pinning her to the ground. She couldn’t hear a helicopter or
anything else for the crackling of leaves beneath her.

“Francis—”

“Quiet, Angelface.”

Seth’s booted feet halted next to her
shoulder. “Where’s Joan?”

“Not back yet. Gabe went up to check. Good
thing it’s summer or we’d be sitting ducks.”

She still couldn’t hear the chopper blades
but her temper was on the rise. What did they think she was going to do, run
around waving her hands and screaming? “Francis, get your foot off my ass.”

“Shut up and stay down,” Seth commanded.

Gabriel’s feet landed just short of her
head as he jumped from the tree, sending a spray of loose dirt into her face
and eyes. “State Troopers. The locals must have reported the explosions and
they’re just now getting around to checking it out.”

“No,” Francis remained firm. “The helo’s
not commercial.”

“We have company,” Joan reported, jogging
into the clearing.

“Where?”

“Dropped from a chopper on the other side.
Four, maybe five. They’re gonna sweep.”

“How long do we have?” Seth asked.

“Two, maybe three hours.”

“Gabe, take ’em out and bring me one. Let’s
move.” Seth hauled her to her feet the instant Francis’ foot disappeared from
her backside. “We have to move fast. Think you can keep up?”

“Do I have a choice?” she asked, swiping at
the dirt on her face.

“Not particularly.”

Gabriel opened his duffel, extracting a
rifle with an attached scope and a semi-automatic, shoving ammo clips into
every available pocket on his cargo pants and vest before tossing Joan his
pack. Then he disappeared through the trees.

Just like that, the mood shifted into war
mode. Joan caught her arm and pulled her along with him. Seth grabbed up Joan’s
pack and took the lead. The pace he set was fast and hard. She didn’t know how
long they’d been running but she did her best to keep up.

Soon, her lungs started to burn and she
developed a stitch in her side that became more painful by the minute.
Meanwhile, Seth and Francis and Joan weren’t even breathing hard. It took all
her concentration to watch the ground and avoid fallen logs and dips in the
uneven terrain, while keeping an eye out for low-hanging tree branches and
thorny bushes.

Her lips were dry and cracked from
breathing through her mouth. The coils of hair that had come loose from the
green ribbon they’d given her were plastered to the sides of her face and neck.
The T-shirt she had on was soaked, back and front, with sweat.

There was no time to wonder where they were
going, it was all she could do to put one foot in front of the other so she
could make it over the next gully, around the next bush, past the next tree.

Joan eventually handed her off to Francis
and dropped out of line to backtrack. She tripped, stumbled, righted herself
and forged on, doing her best to ignore the gravel in her shoes and the
constant slapping of sharp limbs and twigged branches against her bare arms and
face.

The muscles in her legs were on fire. She
tried to push past it.

Another step.

Another.

A hidden stump snagged her foot and she
crashed to the ground, scraping her palms in an attempt to break the fall. A
sharp stinging sensation razed along the side of her cheek. Gritting her teeth,
she scrambled to her feet and kept going.

Running, always running. Always waiting to
be found.

Will, dead.

Buck and Ray and Simon.

“Is revenge worth dying for?”

Not revenge. Justice. For Jimmy.

She’d promised.

She was so caught up in her thoughts that
she didn’t see Harris stop. Joan, who had rejoined the line a few minutes
earlier, reached out and jerked her to a halt, supporting her as she swayed
dizzily.

Harris’ gaze flickered over her grimly. “Take
her up, Joan. She can’t make it any farther.”

“I can…I can make it,” she insisted
breathlessly as Joan crouched in front of her, hefting her by the arms onto his
broad back.

Harris ignored her and repositioned his
pack, then headed back to the front of the line. No sooner than she clutched at
Joan’s shoulders, they took off at a lope. Joan’s huge steps ate up the terrain
at an alarming rate. Her teeth were nearly jarred from her head.
Oh God, please let us get there soon—wherever the hell there
is!

“Hang on,” Joan said over his shoulder. “You’re
doin’ fine.”

“How can that be?” she panted, grateful to
get the words out without biting her tongue. “You’re doing all the work.”

He leapt over a log. Her butt bounced
against his back. “I’ve hauled packs three times your weight for days at a
time. You don’t weigh nothin’.”

“Hey, Angelface,” Francis called back to
them. “The colonel says you’d better stop jabbering in Joan’s ear or he’s
liable to dump you over the edge of this mountain.”

Joan ducked to miss a hanging branch
without bothering to warn her. It cleared her head by millimeters.

The colonel could kiss her ass. “Joan, I
really hate to complain, what with you doing all the running and me doing all
the hanging on for dear life, but could you put a little more distance between
those branches and my head instead of yours?” He grunted in response. The man
was so big she doubted ramming a tree trunk head-on would faze him.

Only they weren’t in danger of running into
any more trees. Up ahead, over Joan’s shoulder, she saw Harris leap out and
disappear, literally, over the edge of what looked to be a rock ledge.

Francis went over next, and she and Joan
were fast approaching the ledge.

Her heart stopped. “Joan?…Joan!”

“Hang on!”

“Joan, stop! Let me down—Oh my God!”

Chapter Nine

Joan released her as they tumbled through
midair and Maria was left to flail about like a bird with no wings. Below, a
blur of green rushed upward to meet her.

Her life flashed before her eyes. She was
going to die in a crumpled heap on the side of this mountain. Why?

Rough hands caught her as she slammed to
the soft, spongy ground. “Breathe,” Seth ordered, checking her over for injury
with adept hands.

She wanted to breathe, honest to God she
did, but her lungs were flat and airless.

“Relax.”

Easy for him to say, he wasn’t paralyzed.
Harris raised her to a sitting position and the movement forced her lungs to
react and draw breath.

So, the question in her mind had now been
answered. If Seth Harris jumped from a bridge, his men would follow without a
second thought. Before she could rail at him for almost killing her, he swept
her up in his arms and carried her through a slit in the rock wall.