For a moment he held her, both of them wet and breathing hard, time measured in heartbeats. Sunset spilled its rosy light across the landscape. The now familiar night chorus was just beginning, crickets starting up, a million frogs joining them, coyotes yipping excitedly in the distance.
Natalie’s body seemed to sing with them, wild and free. She closed her eyes, vowing silently to do all she could to keep Zach from being arrested. Whatever mistakes he might have made, he was a good man through and through. How could she ever have mistrusted him? She pressed her cheek against his shoulder, let her fingers trail across his back, breathing in the rain-washed scent of him. “Am I getting too heavy?”
“No. Never.” Slowly he withdrew and lowered her to her feet. “Damn.”
She looked up to find him frowning. “What?”
“The condom.” He held crumpled bits of wet latex in his hands. “It broke.”
WEARING BORROWED BODY armor and carrying his camera, Joaquin stood next to a flooded wash, his gaze moving over the seemingly endless expanse of the Sonoran Desert. Natalie was out there somewhere, trying to make her way home. And he was going to find her. Or rather the Shadow Wolves were going to find her. He was just along for the ride.
Agent Chiago knelt next to muddy tracks beside the bank of the wash, reached out, and pulled something off a shrub, while the rest of his unit stood watch by the vehicles. “Whoever they were, they got caught napping during the thunderstorm. Looks like they had a hell of a time getting out, but they made it.”
Marc’s gaze followed the tracks. He was wearing his own Kevlar and carrying a rifle. “Two sets of tracks heading west-northwest.”
A gun on his hip, Gabe followed the tracks a short distance. “They probably headed to higher ground to find shelter.”
Chiago held up what looked like dark strands of hair. “This looks like it belongs to the same person as those strands I found before.”
Joaquin reached and took them. “Yeah, this looks like it could be hers.”
How did this guy see this shit? Chiago had been looking for tracks—what he called cutting sign—along the southern corner of the reservation, when he’d found a trail of bent grass, overturned rocks, and windblown indentations that he said were footprints. He’d even found a few strands of dark hair and a bit of blood on an ocotillo. They’d followed sign to what Chiago said had probably been a campsite, then continued on past a group of rotting corpses. Afraid Natalie might be among them, Joaquin had covered his nose and started to search, but Chiago had told them to forget it.
“They’ve been dead for a week or more,” he said, before calling the bodies in to HQ.
The man’s ability to track was like nothing Joaquin had ever seen.
Chiago followed the tracks to the base of a steep incline, then pulled out his infrared binoculars and scanned the darkening hillside ahead of them. “So, we’re most likely looking for one female and one male, right? I think I found them.” Then he lowered the binoculars. “We should, uh . . . give them a minute.”
Marc grabbed the binoculars from him, then looked up in the same general direction. “What the . . . ?” He lowered the binoculars, a strange expression on his face that was something between rage and astonishment. “We should move now. What if he’s forcing her?”
Chiago shrugged. “It looks consensual to me.”
And then Joaquin understood. “You don’t mean they’re . . .”
“That’s exactly what I mean.” Marc lowered his voice.
“If I find out he coerced her in any way, I’ll kill that son of a bitch—whoever he is.”
Gabe’s gaze wandered over the hillside. “Not before I make him eat his balls.”
“I’ll help.” Joaquin took the opportunity to ask Marc something he’d been meaning to ask for days. “When we get her back home, can you do me a favor?”
Marc nodded. “Sure. Name it.”
“Teach me to shoot. I want to learn how to use firearms.”
Both men looked at him, then looked at each other.
Marc’s brow furrowed, but he reached out and clapped Joaquin on the shoulder as if he understood. “You got it.”
CHAPTER 19
ZACH HAD JUST zipped his BDUs when he saw it out of the corner of his eye—the glint of starlight on gunmetal. “Natalie, get down!”
Wearing only her T-shirt and panties, she dropped to the sand.
Still shirtless, he grabbed his rifle and got into position, scanning the hillside below through the weapon’s night scope. And there they were—a unit of Shadow Wolves. Judging from his height, the man leading them was Chiago.
Zach’s first emotion wasn’t relief—it was soul-deep disappointment.
It was over.
The thought hit him like a body blow, leaving a dull emptiness behind. He wasn’t ready to let her go—not yet.
She was never yours to hold on to, McBride.
He got back to his feet, brushed the sand off his chest. “Better get your clothes on, angel. We’re about to have company.”
“Company?” She grabbed her BDUs and scrambled into them. “Drug runners?”
“There’s a unit of Shadow Wolves making their way up the hill, rifles at the ready. It looks like we’ve been found.”
“Really?” For a moment, she gaped at him, smiling. Then her smile faded, a shadow passing over her face. “You should run. Just leave me here and go. I know you can do it. You can get away. I won’t say anything. I promise.”
He drew away, removed his shoulder harness, and set it, with his two Glocks, aside. “Relax. I have no reason to run.”
“But—”
“Natalie, listen to me. They are going to treat this like any other raid, so be ready. No one’s going to hurt you, but they will come in strong. For all they know, I could be a trafficker or bajador, and you could be my accomplice. They’ll want to secure the scene.”
“Secure the scene?” She looked confused.
He knelt down and removed the Ka-Bar rig from his ankle. “We want to make this easy on everyone, so put down the AK. I’m just going to disarm and sit here on my knees with my hands behind my head. You might want to do the same, though I doubt they’ll be as aggressive with you as they’ll be with me.”
“Zach, please go! I couldn’t stand it if you—”
“Freeze! Federal agents!”
But Natalie did the opposite of freeze. She ran over and knelt down in front of Chiago, words streaming out of her. “I’m Natalie Benoit. I was kidnapped by the Zetas, and this man helped me escape! He’s not one of them!”
If the situation hadn’t been so serious, Zach might have laughed out loud. “Natalie, they’re not going to hurt me.”
“Put your hands on top of your head!” Agents swarmed into the little alcove, moving toward them, weapons drawn.
“He didn’t do anything! He helped me escape!”
Zach leaned forward. “Natalie! Put your hands on your head!”
She finally did as he asked, but that didn’t shut her up. She kept pleading with the officers not to arrest him.
And Zach realized that at least in one respect he’d been looking forward to this, because now he could finally tell her the truth about his identity.
In the next moment, he was being patted down.
But no one touched Natalie.
Then Chiago was there, kneeling down in front of her. “What’s your name?”
“I-I’m Natalie Benoit from Denver, Colorado. I’m a reporter with the Denver Independent. I was kidnapped off a bus in Juárez, Mexico, and held captive by the Zetas until this man helped me escape.”
Chiago turned to three men who’d just walked up behind them. Two were tall, and dark haired, one carrying an M4 like he knew how to use it, the other packing a sidearm in a hip holster. The third looked to be just under six foot, Latino, and armed with . . . a camera? The photographer.
Joaquin.
“Can you make a positive identification?”
“Marc? Gabe? Joaquin!” Heedless
of the men with guns, she jumped up and ran to the newcomers, throwing her arms around Joaquin. “I was so sure you’d been shot!”
Her throat sounded tight, and Zach knew she was on the brink of tears.
“Madre María, it really is you. Thank God! I thought I’d never see my sweet chula again. I don’t think I’ve ever been more afraid for anyone in my life.”
Zach felt his teeth grind.
Then Natalie turned and hugged the one with the M4. “Oh, Marc, I knew you’d come. Thank you so much!”
He hugged her back, almost lifting her off the ground. “Hey, we take care of our own. No matter what happened, we’re going to help you get through it. We’re going to take care of you. Darcangelo would have come, too, but he didn’t want to miss his manicure and back waxing.”
For some reason, this made her laugh.
Then she turned to the one with the hip holster and sank into his arms. “Oh, Gabe, thank you! I don’t know how I’ll ever make this up to you all.”
“I’m so happy to see you alive and in one piece.” The guy kissed her on the cheek. “We’re here to bring you home. Kat is in Sells waiting at the hotel with the baby. She’s been worried sick about you.”
“So she deciphered Zach’s message.”
Marc nodded. “She did—with some insight from Joaquin and me.”
And Zach’s jealousy melted away. Natalie was safe now. She was going back to her life, back to a circle of friends who clearly cared for her. He should feel relieved, happy for her, satisfied that he’d kept his promise and gotten her home safely.
Chiago bent down, looked Zach in the eyes. “Zach McBride, old friend, what in the hell have you gotten yourself mixed up in now? Let him up, boys.”
ZACH MCBRIDE?
Natalie turned, looked at the man she’d just made love with not an hour ago. “So that’s your real name?”
“Chief Deputy U.S. Marshal Zachariah McBride at your service, Ms. Benoit.” He smiled, winked.
Behind her, Marc gave a snort, Joaquin whispering something that sounded like, “Yeah, right.”
“Simmer down, boys,” Gabe whispered. “We’ll kill him later.”
But her attention was on Zach.
“Sorry I couldn’t tell you before. The situation was too volatile. I couldn’t put your life or the operation at greater risk.”
A deputy U.S. marshal.
Zach was a chief deputy U.S. marshal.
Instead of being impressed, she felt a surge of anger, and before she could stop herself, she slapped him across the face hard enough to turn his head. “You let me believe you were some kind of criminal—a drug thief, an arms smuggler, a mercenary!”
He shook his head as if to clear it, his gaze piercing hers. “You came up with that on your own. I told you that I wasn’t what you thought I was. You didn’t believe me.”
So what if he was right? “I’ve been worried sick about what would happen to you when they found us. At least you could have told me you were some kind of good guy.”
“I thought my actions proved that.”
You haven’t exactly seen me at my best.
His words came back to her, and piece after piece slid into place. Why he knew so much about the cartels and smuggling routes. How he knew where to cross the border. His dedication to keeping her safe.
Why hadn’t she considered the possibility that he was law enforcement? It seemed so obvious now. “Are you really ex-military, or was that all just a story you made up to make me stop asking questions?”
The tall Indian agent stepped forward. “That’s the truth. McBride used to be a Navy SEAL. He’s one of three living men to have been awarded—”
Zach frowned. “Chiago, stop!”
“—the Medal of Honor for nearly dying while trying to save his team.”
“You two know each other?” She looked back and forth between the two men.
“McBride trained with us for a while after joining the Marshal Service. He wanted to learn to cut sign.”
“I see.”
A former Navy SEAL. And a Medal of Honor winner no less.
The man standing before her—the man who’d protected her, who’d saved her life, who’d made love to her—was a true American hero.
It stunned Natalie, and yet it fit him so well. “I . . . I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. It’s just that the circumstances . . .”
“If I’d been in your shoes, I would’ve thought the same thing.” Then he turned to Chiago—and started giving orders. “Until I say otherwise, there’s a news blackout on Ms. Benoit’s rescue and whereabouts. The Zetas were in full huntand-destroy mode, so I’d like to get her away from the border before we tell the world where she is. Besides, you don’t want to have to deal with the brass at the Justice Department, and they’re going to be very interested in this. Anyone have a dry jacket she can borrow? How far away are your vehicles?”
Natalie felt someone slide a jacket over her shoulders, and looked up to see Marc and Gabe exchange a knowing glance, Marc rolling his eyes for good measure.
“What is it?”
Gabe leaned down, whispered in her ear. “The U.S. Marshal Service is at the top of the law-enforcement pecking order, outranking everyone, even the FBI. They have jurisdiction no matter where they are.”
Marc’s gaze followed Zach. “I wish Darcangelo were here. He’d fucking hate this.”
Natalie watched as Zach took control of the scene. Six days of brutal torture. An arduous five-day escape. And he was completely in command.
NATALIE FELT LIKE the most protected woman in the world as they started downhill for the hour-long trek back to the Shadow Wolves’ vehicles. Marc walked on one side of her, Gabe and Joaquin on the other, and Zach in front, a dozen armed Shadow Wolves fanned out around them. Yes, she was safe now, and she was grateful to be rescued.
But that didn’t stop her from looking back over her shoulder at the little waterfall and feeling like she was leaving something precious behind.
ZACH USED HIS authority to arrange for Natalie to sit beside him on the long, bumpy ride to Sells. He knew her friends saw through it—for some reason the three of them seemed to want to kick his ass—but he didn’t really give a damn. This might be his last chance to be close to her.
He climbed into the seat and fastened his safety belt, her small, cool fingers twining with his—and holding on tight.
He leaned down and spoke for her ears only. “What’s wrong?”
She looked up at him, every emotion he was trying so hard not to feel written plainly on her face. “I’m scared. I’m so afraid I’ll never see you again after tonight. Don’t you dare leave without saying good-bye, Zach McBride.”
“AND THAT’S WHEN you saw McBride in chains?”
Natalie nodded. “He was hanging blindfolded from the ceiling by his wrists, too weak to support his own weight. He was soaking wet and covered with red electrical burns. There was a cart with a big battery and two electrical cables . . . I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget the sound of his cries. They almost killed him.”
Agent Chiago wrote something down in his notebook. “Then what happened?”
Natalie had already given a written deposition, detailing everything she could remember from the moment the bus had stopped. Now she was just answering questions. Zach had warned her she’d have to do this more than once. But she’d been through this whole experience once before—when she’d helped investigators piece together their case against the intern who’d tried to kill her. She’d known it wouldn’t be easy.
“Then they . . . They held me, took off my shirt and bra and . . . One of the Zetas, the one with the scar on his face . . .” She pressed her hands into her lap to keep them from shaking, finding it hard to talk about this without breaking into tears.
Agent Chiago looked at her through brown eyes soft with compassion. “I know this must be hard for you. But we need to make sure we understand exactly what happened. Can I get you anything—water, soda, ano
ther cup of coffee?”
Natalie shook her head, trying to calm the sick feeling in her stomach. “They took off my shirt and bra, then the one with the scar . . . touched me. He was very rough. He left bruises. I couldn’t understand everything he was saying, but I knew he was trying to make a deal with Zach—the location of the stolen cocaine in exchange for . . . me.”
Chiago nodded. “How did McBride respond to this offer?”
Oh, God, was she going to get Zach into trouble? “He . . . He pretended to go along with it, trying to get them to unchain him so that he could fight them. He later apologized and told me he never would have hurt me. I believed him.”
Chiago wrote something down, glanced through his notes. “You also stated that you watched him give a duffel bag of things he’d taken from the Zeta compound to a Mexican national in exchange for a car. Do you know what was in that duffel bag?”
Natalie shook her head. “Please don’t ask me that. I don’t want to cause trouble for him. He saved my life. I can’t repay him by—”
“I understand your distress, Ms. Benoit, but the folks in Washington, D.C., are going to be mighty interested in this case. You can either answer my questions or wait for the Justice Department to knock on your door. And, hell, they might knock on your door anyway, knowing them. They like their frequent-flyer miles.”
Natalie swallowed—hard. “Guns. Ammunition. He said we’d be caught and killed for sure if we didn’t get into a different car because that one had a Z on the license plate like all Zeta vehicles.”
Chiago wrote more notes, then flipped back a few pages. “When you asked McBride why the Zetas had captured him, what was his answer?”
“He said he’d made a bad decision and to leave it at that. He said they were interrogating him and if they thought I knew anything, they’d torture me, too. He said they were going to kill him.”
“How did you hear about the stolen cocaine?”
“The Zeta with the Santa Muerte tattoo told me about it. I asked why they were torturing Zach, and he said that Zach had stolen a shipment of cocaine. But Zach told me he didn’t do it. He said the woman who did steal it had turned him over to the Zetas, making him her scapegoat.”