The man she had seen hadn’t been alone. Another wounded man was with him. With his back to her, the big man hobbled and needed help to walk. When Alexa got close enough to take aim, she shouted.
“Stop, or I’ll shoot.”
One man looked over his shoulder, the one helping the wounded guy, but neither of them slowed down. And when they disappeared around a corner, she’d lost sight of them.
“Damn it,” she cursed under her breath.
But before she could chase them down, something caught her eye. When she crossed the threshold of the only chamber down that corridor—a room that had a massive door splintered by the blast and fallen rock at the entrance that blocked the way in—she saw a light.
A flickering flame burned through the debris. And eclipsing the fire was a barred window that had been cracked from its casing. The metal bars cut the light and were exactly what she had seen from outside. Gut instinct told her this cell was the one she had come to find.
“Kinkaid . . . you in there?” She took a risk and called out his name, but no one answered. While she kept her eye on the corridor where the men had vanished, she leaned closer to peer through the pile of rock.
Nothing moved inside.
“Jackson. Talk to me. Please.” She yelled louder this time, but still, she heard nothing.
Alexa stood back from the cell and stared at the cave-in. Something made her stay. She couldn’t explain it, but to move the boulders that blocked the door didn’t make sense if there were no signs of life inside. She grimaced and shook her head as she held her assault rifle. She had the two men to follow. They were real. They should have been her target, but something kept her rooted where she was.
“Kinkaid. Give me a reason. Please!”
When her plea echoed in the room without a response and nothing else to show for it, Alexa reluctantly made up her mind to leave. She turned, but stopped when she heard it. The sound barely registered with her, and yet she knew she’d heard something.
A choking cough.
“Jackson, is that you? Come on. Answer me.”
“Please . . . h-help him. I don’t know what to do.”
A girl’s voice gripped Alexa by the throat. When she heard it, she didn’t hesitate. She slung her weapon on her shoulder and dug into the rocks and debris blocking the splintered door.
“Hold on. I’m coming,” Alexa cried out as she worked.
Sweat that had beaded on her skin now ran down her arms and back. It stung her eyes, but she kept working. And without gloves, the shards of rock cut her hands, and dust clotted the wounds.
“Is he alive? Please tell me,” she begged the girl. And while she shoved at the door that hung off a hinge, she listened for any signs of life inside. When no answer came, Alexa worked harder. A minute later, she heard the weak voice again. The girl answered her, but Alexa didn’t like what she heard.
“I don’t know. I don’t think h-he’s breathing. Pl-please hurry. There’s blood.”
A slow rage burned under Alexa’s skin. She hadn’t come this close to Kinkaid to let him die. With her hands bleeding and raw, she strained to move the wall of stone that stood between them.
“Hang on, Jackson. Please . . . for once in your life, do as I tell you.”
Chapter 15
Alexa heaved rocks one by one, trying to open a gap for her to squeeze through the toppled wall. Outside, she still heard the sounds of the skirmish, but things had died down. To avoid the Mexican authorities, Garrett’s team on the ground and Kinkaid’s UAV would have to clear out soon. She was running out of time, but she had no choice, not now.
The more she worked, the more her hands and shoulders ached.
She heard muffled sounds coming from outside. She tried calling for help, but no one heard her. Being in a collapsed part of the hacienda, Alexa knew it would take time for Garrett and his men to find her. And it would soon be dawn. In the harsh light of day, she didn’t want to get stranded and have to explain to the Mexican government why she was there. Getting caught would land her in a Mexican prison, with the Sentinels throwing away the key. They wouldn’t officially claim her, and that meant she’d be on her own, but all she could think about was . . .
“Jackson? Are you with me?” she called out.
“He’s opening his eyes,” the girl told her. “Can you hear me, señor?”
Alexa heard the excitement in the girl’s voice when she began talking to Kinkaid. And with more of the rock shoved aside, Alexa heard the crunch of shoes on the stone floor. The girl was moving inside the cell. At least she was free and didn’t have to be dug out. Alexa prayed that would be the same for Jackson.
“Is he okay?” she asked.
“I think so, but I see blood. I think he’s been shot.”
Alexa craned her neck to look into the cell. Torches had been tossed to the floor but were still lit. The flames gave off enough light for her to see a small girl kneeling by Kinkaid. Dust covered both of them.
“I’m coming. Hang on.”
Alexa shoved at the last boulder that blocked her way. She squeezed through and worked her way back to where they were. The roof looked dangerously fragile. It wasn’t safe, but she had to see how bad Kinkaid was before she moved them to a better location.
Jackson was sprawled flat on his back in a corner of the cell, covered in dirt and debris. Alexa had to lift rocks off his legs before she could get close enough. When she stared down at him, she saw his blood-covered shirt and went looking for the damage. He’d been shot in the shoulder, but that was the least of his worries. She’d seen men tortured before, but nothing like this.
She couldn’t help but stare at him. He’d been beaten so badly that half his face was swollen, and one eye was nearly shut. His body was bruised with deep contusions, with knife wounds across his chest and stomach. He had to be in incredible pain even though he didn’t let it show.
But Jackson was breathing. And that made him beautiful to her.
Alexa stared into his dazed eyes until she knew he recognized her. With trembling fingers, she touched his cheek, careful not to cause him more pain. She never thought she’d see him alive again.
She had walked away from him in Cuba when she saw in his eyes that he had nothing to give her . . . or anyone. He was too much in love with his dead wife and too empty inside from grieving over his only child. And from what she saw in him now, that hadn’t changed, but she couldn’t help how she felt about him. Loving Kinkaid had been her joy and her curse. And she wasn’t sure she would change that, even if she could.
“You’re a hard man to kill, Jackson.” Thank, God, she wanted to add.
“You say that . . . like it’s a b-bad thing.” When he tried to smile, he winced from his cut lip.
“They tortured him. I heard it . . . and I saw what they did. It was terrible,” the young girl said with fresh tears in her eyes. “When the rocks came down, he protected me.”
“Don’t make me out to be a hero, chica. No one who really knows me will believe you.”
“He’s got a point,” Alexa said as she shrugged out of her shirt. “What’s your name, little one?”
“Estella Calderone.”
“Thanks for helping him, Estella. Now we need to get both of you out of here. Can you walk?”
“Yes.” The girl nodded.
This time, she turned to Jackson. “And how about you? You look a little rough, big guy.”
“Took one in the shoulder. Is the bullet still in there?”
She helped him rise enough to see his back. Without an exit wound, the bullet was still lodged in him. Someone would have to cut it out. But something else caught her eye.