“Go,” said one of the men to Juanita. “And speak to no one of this.” She hurried out, a hand pressed to her mouth, stifling her sobs.
The taller man bobbed a chin at Young. “It is fortunate for us that we did not kill him before. Senor Beretta would be most unhappy. Thank you, Senorita Gallagher, for keeping him alive.”
She stuck up her chin and glared at him. “He needs a hospital.”
“He will get plenty of medical attention until his usefulness is over. As for you two...” He shook his head. “You were clever to escape the clinic.”
Jett smiled. “And you were stupid to fall for it.”
The taller man lashed out so quickly Sarah almost didn’t see it. His bat connected with Jett’s stomach, sending him sprawling backward.
She screamed and dropped to her knees next to him.
“Home-run hit, Miguel,” the leader said.
Jett sucked in a breath and groaned. She pressed her hands to his broad chest. “Please don’t antagonize him,” she whispered. “Please.”
Jett quirked a grin. “I’m just getting warmed up.”
She helped him to his feet, determined to take action before Jett could say another word.
“Listen to me.” She kept her voice calm, businesslike. “If Mr. Young is important to Senor Beretta, then he would want you to help get him to the hospital. We can get to the airport, fly him to Puerto Rosado. He needs a brain scan.”
The man considered. “That is not for us to decide. We’re taking him, and we no longer need your assistance.”
Jett stepped forward, one hand clutched to his stomach. “Let her go,” he grunted. “She’s well-loved here in the village. You don’t want to mess with her or there may be trouble. Release her, and she won’t tell anyone about you.”
Sarah could only gape. Since when was Jett her spokesman?
“I don’t think so,” the tall man said.
“You’re making a mistake,” Jett snapped.
This made both men laugh heartily. “Our only mistake was not bashing your brains in earlier.”
Jett didn’t flinch, but Sarah’s whole body prickled in fear.
The man with the bat shifted. “So what are we going to do with them?”
“Kill them,” the leader said with a smile. “Kill them both.”
The terrible command hung in the heated air.
Sarah’s face went pale as sea foam, and she clenched her hands into fists.
Jett stared down the men. If they expected him to be intimidated, they would be disappointed. He shook his head with an exaggerated sigh. “I see intelligence doesn’t rank high on the list of Senor Beretta’s job requirements.”
Miguel started forward again with the bat. “We should kill him now, Alex. Enough talk. Beat him until he begs for mercy.”
Jett felt Sarah’s hand clutching the back of his shirt.
It doesn’t matter what they do to me, he wanted to tell her. No one is ever going to see me beg. He’d seen enough of that in his mother, and it left a vile taste in his mouth. Her pleading for his father to stop, to quit drinking, to stop the beatings, to leave off the behavior that turned their home into a war zone. None of her begging had made the slightest difference.
He refocused, ignoring the burning in his stomach from the bat blow. Sarah was the important one right now. Marco had charged him with her safety, so it was time to bluff. Big-time. “Young is on death’s door, in case you haven’t noticed. If you serve up a fresh corpse to your boss, he’s not going to take that well, is he?”
“The coward’s just talking to try to save himself.” Miguel spat on the floor.
“A little testy, Miguel? Upset that I gave you that black eye earlier today? You shouldn’t drop your left hand. I was trained by a navy boxing champion, so I’m afraid I had a big advantage.” Marco had earned that championship honestly. The guy was a genius in the ring. He’d taught Jett plenty about fighting and life. Besides, it was a pleasure to rub salt in Miguel’s wounded pride, even though he could feel the dread rolling off Sarah at his goading.
Miguel glowered. “I will crush your skull.”
“Try,” Jett said. “It will be a moment you’ll never forget.” Big talk, since Jett’s head was pounding from the earlier fight and the bat strike had left him unable to draw a full breath. Still, there was enough anger burning through him that would fuel his muscles into delivering what his mouth had promised.
Miguel’s face pinched with rage. “You will die slowly, American.”
“And you will eat those words,” Jett said, enunciating each and every syllable so there was no mistake. They were six inches from each other now. He could read the hatred simmering in Miguel’s eyes. He hoped Miguel could see the same in his.
Alex held up a hand. “Un momento. Let me hear what this arrogant American says before we finish this.”
Sarah sucked in a breath, and Miguel grudgingly eased back a pace.
“Young is going to die without Sarah’s help—it’s that simple,” Jett said.
Alex shrugged. “We will get him medical assistance.”
“Yeah? Where?”
“We do have hospitals here in our country, in case you were not aware.” Alex’s tone dripped with sarcasm.
“I am aware, and the closest one with an MRI machine is Puerto Rosado. There will be a lot of people there asking questions, forms to fill out, the victim being an American and all.” Jett was guessing about Young’s citizenship, but he saw in Alex’s face that he’d hit the mark.
“The village doctor,” the third man said. “We will make him do the treatments.”
“He can’t help,” Sarah chimed in. “Young needs a brain scan. We don’t have the equipment here to do that.”
Jett saw Alex thinking it over. He made a show of looking at Young, who groaned softly. “Sounds pretty bad. He might even die before you get him to your truck, unless Sarah keeps up with the IVs and monitors his heart.”
“I can’t do it myself,” she said quickly. “I need an assistant, since you sent Juanita away.”
Alex waved at Miguel and his other companion. “We are not lacking for manpower.”
“Jett’s had navy medical training,” Sarah cut in. “He knows what to do if Mr. Young has a seizure or goes into cardiac arrest, and he can administer an IV if necessary.”
That much was true, but was it enough to convince Alex? The seconds ticked by in agonizing slow motion. Jett clenched his teeth. They had to let Sarah go with Young. It was the only way to keep her alive, at least until another escape avenue could present itself. He burned to go with her—she was too naive, too delicate to survive with these criminals—but if it was a choice between the two of them, he wanted her to live. The ferocity of his emotions surprised him, but then, he’d always longed for justice that never seemed to materialize. And Sarah—oh, how he’d longed for her.
It was not right for Sarah Gallagher to die here. She was good, and she deserved a happy life. She’d certainly deserved better than a rebel like him. She’d been smart to cut him loose during their senior year in high school, though he’d never admit it. Nor would he confess how the pain of that breakup hurt