“She’s been looking for me.”
Her watery eyes turned into full-blown tears, and he had no idea how to react to her crying. Hugging her seemed too intimate, and yet he didn’t want to just ignore what she was feeling. The last time he’d seen her, she’d been fourteen or fifteen. They used to spend summers at his father’s Colorado ranch, until her family moved to Dallas. And now his father had sent him to do a simple extraction, but he had a feeling this was going to turn out to be a bit more complicated.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I will be.” She wiped her cheek with the back of her hand, clearly trying to gain back her composure. “I’m sorry. Except for the night my father was murdered, I don’t think I’ve ever been so terrified.”
“You have nothing to be sorry about, but we need to get you out of the country,” he said. “My father’s already booked two seats on a direct flight to the States for tonight in case I felt we needed to leave immediately, which clearly we do.”
He focused his attention on her but continued to stay fully aware of the scene around him. He couldn’t assume anything when it came to their safety. Not after what he’d just witnessed.
“Ellie...”
She stared out across the stunning blue water lined with countless kiosks and beachgoers a few seconds longer before looking up at him. “I’m sorry, but I can’t leave.”
“What are you talking about?” he asked. “We were almost killed a few minutes ago.”
Surely he’d misunderstood her.
“I have information on the man behind my father’s death,” she said. “Proof that could finally lead to his arrest and conviction.”
“What kind of proof?” he asked, unsure he liked the direction of the conversation. She couldn’t be planning to play detective and try to solve her father’s murder herself. He’d agreed to escort her home. Not follow up on some clue she thought she’d come up with. That he planned to leave to the authorities.
“I made contact with a doctor who works in the north of Brazil along the Amazon River,” she said quickly. “He has evidence he’s been afraid to take to the authorities, but he’s agreed to meet with me.”
“Wait a minute...so you’re planning to go to the Amazon?”
“I’ve already booked a private flight that leaves in the morning.”
Ryan frowned. A simple extraction, in and out, didn’t include a stop in the Amazon.
“I’m sorry, but you can’t—”
“If they can find me here in Brazil,” she said, catching his gaze, “what’s to stop them from finding me back in the US, where they have even more resources? Which means I won’t be able to quit running until the men behind my father’s death are in prison.”
Ryan shook his head. “I agreed to take you back to the US, not off on some wild-goose chase down the Amazon.”
“That’s fine, because I’m not asking you to go with me.” She let out a sharp breath. “Have you ever lost someone you loved?”
Ryan’s muscles stiffened at the question. “Yes, but—”
“Then you have to understand that not only do I need closure to my father’s death, I need the men who killed him to pay for what they did. And if I ever want to stop running, I have to make sure they’re caught.”
“And some...doctor in the Amazon is your best lead? How does that play in to your father’s murder?”
“Let’s just say that even cartel leaders and drug lords need medical care.”
“And this doctor you tracked down knows the man you believe is behind your father’s death and has some kind of information you believe might help solve his case?”
“Exactly.”
“Which could put his life in danger as well.”
“I know, but we’ve been very careful,” she said. “He works one week a month at a second clinic about two hours upriver of where he lives. He’s agreed to meet me there. No one will suspect anything.”
“Forget it. It’s way too dangerous, and I promised my father I’d get you out of here.” Ryan glanced down the wide boulevard that ran parallel to the ocean and was lined with hotels, restaurants and bars. How was he supposed to convince her to leave? “Listen. I’m not a chauvinist, but a woman on her own, traveling down the Amazon, is probably not the best idea. Especially when the cartel is looking for you.”
“Don’t you think I haven’t thought of that?” Ellie looked up at him. “I realize this isn’t some sanitized cruise, and we’re not just talking about avoiding leeches and piranhas. It’s not safe. I get it. And in fact, I feel as if I’m poking my finger into a hornet’s nest.”
He didn’t miss the apprehension in her voice or the hint of fear in her eyes as she caught his gaze. But he also didn’t miss the look of fierce determination. The bottom line, though, was that someone was out there, looking for her, and from what his father had told him, they weren’t going to stop until they found her.
“You know my father,” he said. “He will do everything in his power to stop whoever’s behind this. Including finding out what this doctor knows. But you don’t have to do this on your own. It’s not safe. We need to get to the airport and return to the States.”
She shook her head. “You don’t understand. You don’t have to come with me, but I’m going.”
Ellie started walking away from him, toward the water, still carrying the helmet she’d been wearing. She needed to clear her head. She wished she didn’t feel so angry. Wished her nerves weren’t so rattled. Surely flying to the Amazon to meet the doctor wasn’t nearly as dangerous as riding a motorcycle across Rio with Ryan Kendall. Unless, of course, the cartel managed to track her there as well.
Memories engulfed her, dragging her back to a place she didn’t want to be. Like the last time she’d spoken to her father. He’d apologized for burdening her with his problems, telling her that this case had him on edge, and with the evidence he’d seen, he was ready to give his judgment and see Mauricio Arias remain in prison for the rest of his life. It might not have been the first time he’d received threats, but for some reason, when she’d hung up the phone, she’d been left with the impression that this time was different. This time it was personal.
She had already been worried over the toll the case had been taking on his health, which was why she’d insisted on coming over and making dinner. Normally their weekly Friday-night dinners included takeout and a couple hours of conversation, where they were forbidden to mention politics or law. But after the week her father had had, she’d figured he’d enjoy a home-cooked meal rather than spicy Thai or greasy pizza.
Instead, she’d found her father in the entryway. He was lying on the hardwood floor, a pool of blood beneath him, and his eyes were closed, as if he was sleeping.
Except he hadn’t been sleeping.
She’d knelt over her father and quickly felt for a pulse or a breath—anything that would assure her it wasn’t too late. She’d begged that God would step in and wake her up from this nightmare. Her stomach had twisted as she pulled back his suit jacket, revealing where the bullet had struck his chest. Everything her father had feared had become a reality.
A second later, a bullet had slammed into