Static garbled Saint’s next words, then the call cut off. “And he’s organizing a rescue,” Jake finished for him. Maria was minutes away and the hell with standing by.
When he had her back, it was entirely possible he’d turn caveman: throw her over his shoulder and carry her off somewhere private. He needed to touch her, feel her under him. Or over him, he didn’t really care. Needed to lose himself in her and know she was where she belonged. With him.
“You’re a goner, Buchanan,” he muttered. Hearing it said aloud rammed the truth home. Acceptance settled in, sweeping the last of his doubts out the door. From the night he’d first made love to her, he’d considered her his. Mine, his brain had declared the second he’d sank into her wet heat. What he hadn’t done was give her the gift of him . . . all of him.
Although he’d decided he wanted a relationship with her, he hadn’t completely shed Romeo. He’d assumed the lust would eventually wear off for both of them and they’d move on. And although his heart had done a funny little flip when he’d thought she was going to say she loved him, it had also scared the bejesus out of him.
Amazing, I’m in love and the world hasn’t stopped spinning. It was something he’d keep to himself until he returned from Egypt. Not once in his life had he told a woman he loved her, not even to talk her into his bed. When he told Maria, he wanted to do it right, and he’d need to do some planning.
First though, he had to rescue his lady. The few houses along the road were all small, old, and spread apart by a few acres. They all looked pretty much alike; a few more run-down than others. At the six-point-seven-mile mark, he studied the house with a 1950s model Buick parked under a carport. No sign of the Ford. In case anyone was watching out the window, he didn’t slow. He needed to find a place to hide the Mustang and then do some reconnoitering.
A quick check of his cell showed he was back to no service, but he wouldn’t call Saint even if he could. Last thing he wanted was to be ordered to stand down. The sun was setting and it would be dark soon, making it easier to prowl around.
A half mile down the road, he saw what appeared to be an abandoned house. He pulled the Mustang into the carport and rolled down the window. As much as he wanted to charge over to the targeted location and snatch Maria away from the bastard, he knew that was how mistakes were made. She had better be in that house though.
With his eyes closed, he listened to the sounds around him, especially for any barking dogs. Off in the distance he heard one, but it was to the right, and Jake’s interest lay to the left. Crickets began to chirp as dusk gave way to night, and an owl hooted nearby. Turning off the overhead light, he eased the door open, stepped out of the car, then quietly closed the door.
The windows at the back of the house were boarded up with cheap plywood, verifying the place was vacant. Jake sat on the back stoop and removed the pouch from around his waist. Out of habit, he checked the guns, then slipped both of them into the waistband of his jeans. He slid the knife out of its sheath and held it up to the waning light. It was a wicked-looking thing, and he tested its weight before putting it back in its holder. Standing, he stuck it into a back pocket.
For a few seconds, he stared at the grenade. With a shake of his head, he put it back in the pouch and secured it back around his waist. The small flashlight went into the pocket opposite the knife.
Dark surrounded him as he disappeared into the scrub oak behind the abandoned house. On high alert, he eased the balls of his feet down first, testing the ground under them for limbs or leaves that would make a crackling sound. Five minutes later, he stood as still as the tree next to him in the backyard of the house where he thought Maria was. He scanned the area, his gaze coming to rest on the Ford Fusion parked under the massive limbs of an oak tree and impossible to see from the air.
He’d found her.
When his heart settled back into its normal beat, he slipped through the dark to the Ford and punched a hole in all four tires with the knife. Making his way into the yard as far as he dared, he stopped next to a bush of some kind and waited.
A male figure walked past the window, outlined by the dim light behind him. Even though Jake couldn’t make out his face, every bone in his body knew it was Fortunada.
“I’m coming for you, you bastard,” he murmured. He unzipped the pouch, pulled out the whistle, and blew it. All he could hear was a sound like a rush of wind, but if there was a dog inside, the high-pitched noise would incite it to bark.
A cat jumped onto the window sill and stared out. Jake waited and his patience paid off. A woman too heavy to be Maria came into view and picked up the cat. Unless she’d known Fortunada beforehand and this had been his destination all along, there was now another hostage to rescue. Question was, did she live alone or was there another man in the house?