“Travis. I’m sure even Dad would admit that he couldn’t hold you to that promise now.”

“I’m not so sure.” He gave a short laugh. “But you’re right. Everything has changed. You’re a grown woman, and Parker is gone. I keep telling myself he’d want me to look after you, but that doesn’t mean having sex with you. It was just hard to set that promise aside. You know?”

“I know.” She let out a shaky breath. “I love you too, Travis. I know I was young, but I loved you so much. I thought I’d get over you when I went away to college, but as soon as I came back, I knew I never really had.” With her hands bound, she was unable to wipe the tears that ran down her face. “I thought maybe we’d get a chance now.” She swallowed, and when she spoke, her voice quivered. “After last night.”

“We will.”

There was no fucking way they were going to end things this way. Sitting there tied up, knowing these could be their last minutes on earth, had made him realize that promise to Parker, while noble at the time, was no longer valid. If they got out of there, there was no way he was giving up what he and Samara had because of that stupid promise. Parker was gone, and more importantly, Samara was a grown woman who certainly knew her own mind and made her own decisions. In the years she’d been away, she had matured, though he’d doubted it at first. In fact, he had to respect what she’d accomplished with her life, the knowledge she’d acquired. He had to admire her determination and her loyalty to the company.

They had to get out of there alive because he had to kiss her. Hold her. Jesus, they had to be together.

The way the chair had creaked when he’d slammed to the floor gave him an idea. He stood up and did it again. And again. He shuffled toward the wall, sure he felt one of the chair legs wobbling beneath him, and slammed himself into the wall over and over again.

“Travis! God, Travis!” Samara stared at him with horror.

Pain crashed through him with every blow. Christ, he’d be bruised and battered, but goddamn it, if he was alive, it was worth it. And then the chair gave way, one leg splintering with a loud crack. Sweat dripped from his brows, stung his eyes, and ran down his back. He heaved himself one more time against the wall, and the back of the chair broke. Furiously he wriggled his body so the ropes around him and the chair rose higher and then finally, thank Christ, they loosened around him as he got them off the broken chair.

Adrenaline surged through his veins like liquid heat, and he tore the ropes off his wrists and ankles with fumbling, numb fingers, ignoring the pain still battering his body.

He rushed over to Samara and scrabbled at the ropes binding her until finally she was free too. They had to get the hell out of there.

He helped her stand. She wobbled a little and clutched his damp shirt.

“Okay?” he asked, pressing a quick kiss to the top of her head.

“Fine. Let’s go.”

Distant voices carried to them over the stillness, growing louder. Shouting. Words in Spanish he didn’t know. They froze, eyes meeting in a question. What was going on out there?

“What’s happening?”

“I don’t know. I’m guessing the plane is here to be loaded up with drugs.”

“It sounds like something’s gone wrong.” A crease appeared between her eyebrows.

“Yeah. It does.”

More shouting, and the sound of pounding footsteps over the soft ground. A pop from a gun.

“Oh, god.” Samara’s voice quivered.

“Stay calm.” He was telling himself that as much as her. “It’ll be okay, Sam.”

They went over to a window and peered out but saw nothing. The noises were coming from behind the building, where the plane had landed.

“I love you,” he told her again. Not that the end was near, or anything. Just because he wanted to. “Let’s run.” He clutched her hand. “Run straight to the vehicle. Get in. Don’t look back, just run like hell. Okay?”

His gut tightened, and his heart beat in heavy thuds. He glanced at Samara. Their eyes met. He nodded and smiled.

She smiled back at him. “Okay. I love you too.”

His heart squeezed at her soft, heartfelt words. He longed to hold her, his only wish, if he was about to die, that he could hold her again. But there was no time.

They quietly opened the door, wincing as it creaked on rusty hinges. Travis poked his head out and swept his gaze over the clearing. No one there.

He stepped outside, pulling Samara with him.

“Run!” he urged in a whisper, and they both took off, feet flying over the soft ground. They were both long-legged and covered the distance easily, reaching the vehicle at the same time, Samara on the passenger side, him on the driver’s. They reached for the door handles just as a sharp voice called from behind them, “Alto! Halt!”

They both became petrified, hands on the doors. Travis’s heart slammed in his chest, his body hot. He looked up at the clear blue sky. No, god no, this couldn’t happen. They’d been so close; he was sure they’d made it.

Slowly, he looked at Samara and saw the terror in her eyes, and he knew he would die to save her life if he could. He straightened, removing his hands from the car, and holding them up, he turned.

Standing there was Javier Alvarez. And the man Samara had recognized from the hotel. And...Parker.

Samara’s body went weak, and her vision darkened at the edges; the only thing she saw was her father standing there. Alive. Or was this some kind of hallucination brought on by terror? “Dad?”

“Samara.”

Travis caught her as her knees buckled, and her only thought was don’t let them shoot him, please don’t let them shoot him.

He lowered her to the ground and pushed her head down between her knees. Her ears buzzed loudly, and the voices she heard sounded very far away.

“Samara.”

“Is she okay? Dammit, Travis, what the hell...”

“What the hell? You’re asking me what the hell? Jesus Christ, Parker!”

“Don’t fight,” she mumbled, but it seemed nobody heard her. Or they ignored her. Her vision began to clear, and the noise in her ears faded. Her clothes were drenched with perspiration, and she shivered. She lifted her head.

“Are you okay? God, baby.” Travis, crouched beside her on the dirt, sat down hard, and pulled her onto his lap, tucking her head against this chest. His strong arms wrapped around her felt so good.

“Gun. Travis...”

“It’s okay. There’s no gun.” He held her like that for a moment. “It’s okay. I don’t know what the fuck is going on here, but it’s okay.”

She lifted her head to look at him, threw her arms around his neck and squeezed, her entire body wracked with trembling. They were alive.

And so was her father.

She jerked her head back and stared up at him, now standing beside them, hands on his hips, frowning at them.

Shaky, she struggled to get off Travis’s lap and to her feet, but fury surged inside her, giving her strength. Travis rose to stand behind her, his hands protectively on her waist. “Dad! What is going on! We thought you were dead!”

His frown deepened into a scowl. “Dead?” He cast a questioning glance at the man, the one who’d had the gun earlier. “You thought I was dead?”

The man from the hotel stepped forward. Samara was quick to note he no longer held his gun, although it sat in a holster on his hip.

He held out a hand. “Permit me to introduce myself. I am Carlos De Faria. DEA.”

Samara blinked but didn’t take his hand. “DEA?”

He nodded, and she finally stretched out a hand to shake his.

“I’ve been working undercover here in Matagalpa for several years.” He nodded at Parker. “Your father has been assisting us in setting up an important sting operation. We just took down a major drug cartel.” He jerked his head toward the trees and bushes behind them that hid the air strip from view. “Mr. Alvarez here has also assisted us.”