Dangerous Choice KO PL

by Barbara Freethy

  Something shifted in her gaze. She licked her lips. "Diego."

  "Yes?" he asked, feeling an incredible pull in her direction.

  She put her hand on his face. His gut tightened.

  "I don't know what's outside of this plane," she said.

  "I don't, either."

  "But I'm…"

  "Grateful?" he offered.

  She shook her head. "I am grateful to be alive, but that's not what I was going to say. I want to kiss you."

  "What's stopping you?" He wrapped his arms around her back and pulled her into his arms, because the anticipation was killing him. But he still wanted her to make the move. And she did.

  She put her mouth against his with a sexy shyness that was incredibly hot. But that shyness quickly evaporated with the heat of their kiss, with the sudden release of passion and adrenaline and joy at being alive. He kissed her again and again, wanting to lose himself in her, wanting to feel her mouth all over his body, wanting to taste her in every possible way.

  Her hands ran up under his shirt, her fingers pressing against his hard abs. As they came up for a breath of air, he buried his face in her neck, inhaling her scent, letting his tongue trail around the curve of her ear and down to her collarbone.

  At her gasp of pleasure, he raised his head and looked at her.

  Her blue eyes were glittering with passion and need.

  But there was something else in her gaze that tugged at him. It was vulnerability. It was trust.

  He was taking advantage. He had to stop.

  He abruptly pulled away.

  Her eyes widened. "What's wrong?"

  "We need to get out of this plane."

  "But…" She licked her lips again.

  "You need to stop doing that," he said, feeling a deep ache of desire that he didn't think was going away any time soon. It had been simmering just under the surface since he'd first seen her, but now it was a full-blown fire.

  "Doing what?"

  "Never mind. We need to figure out where we are and what to do next. Someone on the ground could have seen or heard the crash. We can't sit here. We have to make a move."

  "Is that really why you stopped?"

  He gave her a hard look. "It's partly why. That kiss was a result of what we went through. Whatever we're feeling right now isn't real."

  "It feels pretty real. And to be honest, what I'm feeling right now started last night."

  He cleared his throat. "We need to be smart."

  "I'm usually the one who thinks that first," she muttered.

  "Well, I didn't hit my head. I don't want to take advantage of the situation."

  "The bump on my head isn't affecting my decisions, Diego."

  "Good to know, but let's get out of here." He moved away before he gave in to temptation. Crossing to the door, it took him several attempts to get it open, but he finally got it ajar enough for him to put his head out.

  "What do you see?" she asked.

  "A lot of trees. But we're only about four feet off the ground." He came back into the plane. "Let's see what supplies we can find to take with us."

  "There doesn't seem to be much. At least we have two bottles of water."

  "And blankets," he said, pulling out four plastic-wrapped blankets. He stuffed them into the first-aid bag. "We're good to go. You, first."

  She grabbed her tote bag, then moved to the door. She sat down on the edge and then jumped to the ground. He quickly followed.

  "It's so dark. I can't believe it's one o'clock in the afternoon," she said, checking her watch.

  "Once we get out from under the trees, we should have sunlight." He glanced down at his own smart watch, happy to have a compass app. "We'll head northwest. That should put us in the right direction to get to Cartagena."

  "Do you really think someone saw the crash?"

  "I don't know, but I don't want to stay too long in one place. We saw a road from the plane as well as buildings in the distance, maybe a small town. Hopefully, it's not too far."

  "Hopefully," she echoed. "Because if we die here in the jungle, I'm going to be really mad that we didn't have sex first."

  He was surprised at her words, at the glint of humor in her eyes.

  "I appreciate you not wanting to take advantage of me, Diego," she continued. "But I can make my own decisions. I don’t need you to make them for me."

  "Understood."

  "Good. Let's go."

  "You want to lead? Call the shots?"

  "Not even for a second. You're in charge of this trek back to civilization. But when it comes to more personal matters, we negotiate."

  He met her smile with one of his own. "Deal."

  Ten

  As Tara followed Diego through the trees, she couldn't help thinking about what had almost happened between them. Now that her brain was less fuzzy, she could appreciate Diego for stopping things before they got completely carried away. But she still felt an intense hollow ache of desire.

  Maybe it was a mix of relief at being alive and the adrenaline rush of surviving what she had thought was probably certain death. But it was also more than that, because she'd been feeling an attraction to Diego since he'd first taken her hand in the church, and that attraction had intensified after their long chat the night before.

  The danger had definitely amped up her feelings, and Diego had probably made the right decision in calling a halt to things. But she wasn't going to tell him that.

  He liked to be in charge. And while she liked him to be in charge of a lot of things, when it came to whether or not they were going to sleep together, she wanted equal input.

  As she watched him plow through the trees, she knew his mind was already back on the mission. Diego was very good at staying in the moment, addressing one problem at a time. She needed to be more like that, to stop thinking so far ahead.

  Diego paused, holding back a heavy branch so that it wouldn't hit her in the face, and she couldn't help but appreciate him once more.

  He was more protective than anyone she'd ever dated before. And yet he also encouraged her to be strong. It was an interesting combination.

  Brian hadn't really been either—not protective nor encouraging. He'd been more of a disappointed critic. She had spent way too much time trying to pretend to be the girl he wanted her to be. It was good that they'd broken up when they had, even though it had been painful at the time. But she'd had a lot of time to grow up since then, and in the last few days, she'd really come into her own. She was starting to feel like she was becoming the person she was meant to be, which was an odd result of her search for Bethany.

  Bethany would fall over in shock if she were to tell her everything that had happened. But she'd also be proud. Bethany would say: This is just the beginning, Tara. You can be whoever you want to be.

  She actually didn't know exactly who she wanted to be. She liked her job, her students, her life in San Clemente. It was easy, quiet, maybe a bit boring, but it wasn't bad. And what would she do if she didn't do that? Travel the world? It sounded exciting, but would it really be the life she wanted? And then there was Diego…if something happened between them, would it just be a one-nighter? That seemed most likely. He was an adventurous, independent guy, who probably took off on jobs for weeks at a time. How could he possibly fit into her life, even if he wanted to, which he probably didn't?

  She smiled at her foolish thoughts as she once again got caught up in worries of a future that was very far away at the moment. She didn't need to be worrying about what she would do when she got back. First, she needed to get back.

  They weren't out of the woods yet—figuratively or literally. She had no idea if they were going the right way to find the road, the town they'd seen, or if they were heading farther into the wilderness. They didn't have food, and the water wouldn't last long, but for now she would simply put one foot in front of the other and keep going.

  For the next two hours, she and Diego walked, pausing only occasionally to take a carefully r
ationed sip of water. They didn't say much during those brief breaks. As the afternoon shadows grew longer, they were both very aware that the night would only make their trek more dangerous.

  Finally, the trees began to thin, and they stumbled onto a dirt path that looked like someone might have used it before them. Up until now, she'd felt like they were the only two people in the world.

  Fifteen minutes later, the path widened, leading into a grassy field, and beyond that was a road. She felt giddy at the sight.

  Diego paused, flashing her a smile that she hadn't seen in the past few hours. "We're getting closer to somewhere."

  "I hope somewhere is a safe place and not a Salazar-owned town."

  "Let's think positive. We haven't heard a helicopter searching for us, and the plane is buried beneath the trees."

  "So, what now?"

  "Follow the road into town and then look for a place to crash tonight."

  "Please don't use the word crash."

  His grin broadened. "Sorry. But like I said, we didn't crash. We had a hard landing."

  "The wings fell off, Diego."

  "My grandfather would have been impressed with that landing."

  "Well, I'm impressed, too. You did a good job, Diego."

  "How's your head?" he asked, as they fell into step alongside each other, now that they weren't dodging branches and squeezing through twisting tree trunks.

  "It's down to a dull ache. The ibuprofen helped."

  "I'm glad."

  "At least I'm getting my steps in today."

  "You're one of those people?"

  "I am," she admitted. "I track my steps on my watch. I don't want to look yet. I'm afraid it will make me tired, and it's not time to rest yet."

  "You're doing well. A lot of people would be complaining by now."

  "I can't see how that would help."

  He gave her a thoughtful look. "It never helps, but that doesn't usually stop people."

  She shrugged. "I don't want to waste energy on a pointless rant right now. I'm trying to keep my feet moving."

  "We're almost to the road."

  "I feel both relieved and worried about that. I know we probably need to flag someone down, but who can we trust? It feels stupid to trust anyone."

  "There are good people in Colombia."

  "And bad people. I don't know how to tell the difference."

  "I don't, either. We'll have to trust our instincts."

  They turned onto the side of the road and began walking. It was another ten minutes before she heard an engine coming down the road behind them. They stopped and whirled around. It was a bus. She almost wept at the sight.

  They started waving their arms. Thankfully, the bus pulled over. Diego moved on to the bus first, explaining in Spanish that their car had run off the road, and they'd pay for a ride to the next town. The driver told them the amount, which was ridiculously cheap. Apparently, civilization was not too far away.

  Diego paid the driver, and then they made their way down the aisle. There was room for probably twenty people on the bus, but there were only seven.

  They sat down behind two older women and in front of a mother and her young son.

  There was an old man across from them and another old man in the back of the bus. No one looked at all dangerous, and as the minutes ticked by, she started to breathe more easily.

  As she rested her hands on her thighs, Diego covered her hand with his, and gave her a smile. "I think our luck has turned," he said softly.

  "I could say I don't think it could get any worse, but I don't want to jinx us."

  "Good idea."

  Diego kept his hand over hers as the bus lumbered down the lonely highway, and she leaned back and closed her eyes for a moment. She was aching and tired, but she knew she couldn't let down her guard completely. They still had to find a place to spend the night and then figure out how they were going to get to Cartagena.

  * * *

  The bus pulled into a small station in the village of Tasco. It didn't look like the best place to spend the night. They felt like they would stand out too much. So after using the restrooms, they checked the map and the bus schedule and found a bus leaving for Cartagena in thirty minutes. They bought two tickets and had just enough time to grab some snacks and drinks from a small café next to the station before boarding a larger bus for the three-hour trip to Cartagena.

  The bus was about half-full, with a couple of families and couples traveling to the coast. They took seats about midway back, with Tara sliding in next to the window, and Diego grabbing the aisle seat.

  After eating the food they'd brought on board, exhaustion began to catch up to Tara. She found herself fighting to keep her eyes open.

  "Go to sleep," Diego told her.

  "I'm afraid to close my eyes."

  "I've got this."

  "You must be tired, too."

  "I'm used to working off no sleep. It's fine."

  "I'd argue, but I don't think I have the energy," she mumbled, dozing off before the words had fallen out of her mouth.

  She woke up to a jolt. "What happened?" she asked wildly. "Why are we stopped?"

  "It's okay. We're in Cartagena," Diego told her.

  "I can't believe I slept the whole way." She tucked her hair back behind her ears.

  "And you only snored a little."

  "I do not snore."

  "How would you know?" he asked, with a teasing glint in his eyes.

  "I've never had any complaints."

  "Men rarely complain about snoring when it comes to sleeping with a beautiful woman."

  "We should go," she said, ignoring his flirty comment. "And how are you so awake after everything we've been through?"

  "I told you. I'm used to no sleep."

  She grabbed her bag from the floor by her seat and followed him off the bus. Even at almost eleven p.m., the Cartagena station was much busier than the one in Tasco, which made her feel a little less conspicuous. "Where should we go first?"

  "A hotel. We need to regroup, and I wouldn't mind a shower."

  "The last time I was here, I stayed in Centro, near Iglesia de San Pedro Claver. It's a beautiful five-hundred-year-old church. There were several hotels nearby. There are a lot of tourists in the area. We'll fit right in."

  "That's perfect."

  They grabbed a taxi to the church, and as they traveled through the streets, she marveled again at the beauty of the beachside Caribbean city that mixed colorful Colonial architecture with modern resorts. As they got out of the cab, she heard Latin music playing at an open-air bar, and laughter coming from a bunch of teenagers having ice cream in the plaza.

  "This is such a pretty, vibrant city," she murmured. "It's true what Enrique said in the bar. Colombia is beautiful, but it can break your heart."

  "Let's focus on the beauty tonight and leave the heartbreak for another day."

  "I'd like to do that. I just feel on edge. Bethany came here, and whoever has her or is after her knows we talked to the pilot. They'll send someone to look for us, if they're not here already. But let's find a hotel. I don't think I can walk too much farther today."

  They moved away from the church, heading down a side street. Three blocks later, they found a large, expensive hotel. She thought Diego would opt for something cheaper, but he told her if they were going to hide, they might as well be comfortable. He checked in under whatever name matched the credit card he had, assuring her that no one would be able to find them through that credit card. They were given a room on the fourth floor. Before heading up, they stopped in the gift shop and picked up some T-shirts, toothbrushes, cold drinks, and a couple of sandwiches to go. They'd left their suitcases at the hotel in Medellin, so they were traveling much lighter now.

  Their room was larger than the one they'd shared the night before, with two full beds, a dresser, TV, a desk and a love seat with coffee table.

  "Well, we don't have to unpack," she said, setting her bag on the dresser. "I guess I'll n
ever see my suitcase again."

  "Was there anything of value in it?"

  "Not really. Just clothes. Nothing irreplaceable. What about you?"

  "Same. We can pick up more clothes tomorrow when the shops are open."

  She nodded, flopping down on the bed. She pulled off her boots with a relieved breath. While she'd worn socks, her blisters were a little deeper after their long trek.

  "Do you need our first-aid kit for those?" Diego asked, having brought the bag from the plane along with them.

  "No. I'm fine. Is there a bath, though? Soaking my feet sounds like heaven."

  "There is a tub."

  "Do you want to shower first?"

  "I'm happy to wait. Go take a long soak. I want to get on my phone and see what I can find out about Irina Salazar Garcia. I think we should see her tomorrow during the day and then do El Toro tomorrow night."

  She got to her feet, then hesitated. "Did you want to do El Toro tonight?"

  "I know you're dead on your feet, and I'm not leaving you alone."

  "I can muster the energy if you think we should go now."

  He shook his head. "No. It's probably better if we lay low tonight. Plus, we need to pick up more appropriate nightclub clothes."

  She was happy with his answer. She wanted to keep going, but despite her long nap on the bus, her body and head were aching. "Then I will be in the bath."

  "Don't lock the door. In case you fall asleep in there, I might have to come and pull you out."

  "I think I can stay awake that long. But I will leave the door unlocked."

  * * *

  As Tara took her bath, he kicked off his shoes, took off his jacket and stretched out against the pillows on his bed. Then he searched the internet on his phone for Irina Salazar Garcia. He'd wanted to do it earlier, but on their many bus trips, he hadn't been able to get a signal good enough for search and social media. He was a little surprised that Lucas hadn't gotten back to him about her, as he'd texted that request hours ago. Hopefully he hadn't gotten Lucas into any hot water by asking for so many favors. He knew that Lucas had to protect his job and his relationship with the Colombian government.

  Putting that worry aside, he entered Irina's name into the search engine. It quickly became clear that Irina did not participate in any social media. However, there was a listing for her at a primary school website where she was named as the art teacher. He also found her mentioned in an obituary for her husband Carl Garcia, who had apparently died of cancer.