A LETHAL REUNION

Abducted by a drug cartel, scientist Jessalynn McCoy’s orders are simple—produce a deadly toxin, or be killed. Trapped with no options, she’s desperate for help…she just never expected it from Will Gumble. The boy who let her down years ago is now a navy SEAL. She trusts his skills, his experience. Yet trusting him is a struggle. Will’s Christmas wish is to heal their damaged relationship and get them to safety. But time is running out and the stakes keep rising. Any mistake could mean the difference between facing the holidays together or apart forever.

Men of Valor: These navy SEALS were born to excel…

“Jess, calm down. I won’t hurt you.”

The words made no sense to her muddled brain, but they continued, quiet and assured. “It’s all right. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

It wasn’t the words that made her sink into him, but the voice that, even after all this time, she’d recognize anywhere. Her eyes hadn’t been playing tricks on her that afternoon. Will Gumble was in this compound. In her very room.

How could he act so casual? As if it hadn’t been ten years since they’d spoken? As if he hadn’t just shown up in a foreign country where she was being held prisoner? As if the very sight of him didn’t make her knees weak with relief?

“I thought I saw you— I thought that was you, but…” Her stomach pitched, fear and relief mingling with alarm and the echo of a remembered betrayal. “What are you doing here?”

His lopsided grin hadn’t changed. “Your dad sent me.”

“My dad?” Forcing a chuckle, she said, “I figured when my dad realized I was missing, he’d send a SEAL team to bring me home.”

“Not a full team—he just sent one.”

LIZ JOHNSON

graduated from Northern Arizona University in Flagstaff with a degree in public relations and now works as a nonfiction marketing manager for a Christian publisher. She finds time to write late at night and is a two-time ACFW Carol Award finalist. Liz makes her home in Nashville, TN, where she enjoys theater, exploring the local music scene and making frequent trips to Arizona to dote on her nieces and nephews. She loves stories of true love with happy endings and blogs about her adventures in writing at www.lizjohnsonbooks.com.

Navy SEAL Noel

Liz Johnson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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No one will be able to stand against you all the days of your life. As I was with Moses, so I will be with you; I will never leave you nor forsake you.

—Joshua 1:5

A friend loves at all times,

and a brother is born for a time of adversity.

—Proverbs 17:17

For Katie Bond

who daily demonstrates the meaning of true friendship. I am so thankful for you.

And for Jess Barnes

who always makes me laugh and lent me her name for a character. I’m stunned by your talent and grace.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

EPILOGUE

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Excerpt

Copyright

ONE

Petty Officer Will Gumble could have gone his whole life without seeing Captain Sean McCoy again.

In fact, he’d been counting on it.

But he wasn’t about to risk ignoring a summons from the brand-new executive officer of the Naval Amphibious Base Coronado. Even if it was worded as a request and asked for a meeting at The Cue, a pool bar well off the base and away from the regular SEAL watering holes.

Will tugged on the sleeves of his civilian jacket and took a deep breath before jerking the door open. Noise and the vapour of electronic cigarettes surrounded him as he stepped inside, scanning the hazy room for threats, exits and friends. In that order.

Two guys next to the pool table by the wall pushed each other, knocking a row of empty glasses onto the green felt. They’d had too much to drink, but weren’t worth a second look. A girl who didn’t look old enough to even be in the bar leaned against the jukebox and flirted with the gray-haired man beside her. She looked up and caught Will’s eye. Hers brightened, a slow smile forming on too-red lips.

Will looked away fast.

The last thing he needed was a girl latching onto him in front of his new XO.

He slipped between two tables, pushing toward the back of the room, finishing his survey. The place wasn’t particularly crowded, given the weekday night, but the green and blue neon lights made faces almost unrecognizable.

What if he couldn’t identify the captain? He hadn’t seen him in more than ten years, and McCoy had been none too happy on that occasion. In fact, the last time they’d met, McCoy had been downright red in the face to see his little girl sneaking into the house at zero dark hundred. Will hadn’t exactly meant to drop Jess off so late, but he’d been a reckless kid, cocky and assured. And when the old navy man had clamped a hand on his shoulder and stared hard at him, Will had nearly buckled. Would he be able to recognize McCoy without the searing anger and disapproval in the older man’s expression—or would both still be there, even after all these years?

When he reached the last booth in the farthest corner, all concern about recognizing Jess’s dad vanished in an instant. Captain McCoy hadn’t aged much. Still broad, with an angular jaw, and barely a wrinkle around his narrow eyes. He kept his black hair in a traditional military cut, and in the light any hint of gray was indistinguishable. But there was something different about him. McCoy, who had always stood so proudly, slumped in the vinyl booth, head bowed over a half-empty glass. He seemed intent on examining the surface of the table, but his mind was clearly engaged elsewhere.

Will walked over and waited for the other man to acknowledge him. When McCoy glanced up, his eyes turned into slits, a frown firmly in place. “I don’t need anything.”

Maybe Will was the one who had changed.

Ten years, thirty pounds and a SEAL Trident pin would do that to a man.

Or maybe it was just the haze hanging over the room.

“Captain McCoy?” Will kept his words short, in case he reverted back to that eighteen-year-old kid whose voice had had a habit of cracking under pressure.

McCoy squinted harder before jumping out of the booth to assess him more closely. After a long pause, he said, “William?”

“Yes, sir.” He held out his hand, expecting a shake, but McCoy clapped him on the back, nearly hugging him.

“It’s good to see you, son. I almost didn’t recognize you out of uniform.” Not the reaction Will had been expecting, but it was a far cry better than the alternative. McCoy motioned to the table and slid back into the booth. Will sat down opposite him. “How are your parents? Still living in the area?”

“They’re fine, sir. Dad just retired, and they moved closer to the beach so he can surf more.”

The captain chuckled silently, his shoulders bobbing and a few wrinkles forming on either side of his mouth. But the humor never reached his eyes, which were pained. He wrapped his hands around his glass of soda and gazed into the dark brown liquid.

Will opened his mouth to ask about Jess, but snapped it closed before the words could pop out. He had no right to ask how she was doing or what she’d done in the past decade. Not even if she’d ever gotten married, settled down, had a family.

The pain wasn’t as acute as it had been at first, but the idea of his childhood best friend married to someone else still hit him like a punch in the stomach. At least he knew she hadn’t married his brother, Salvador. That’s why they’d stopped talking—because Jess had said she was thinking about accepting Sal’s promise ring. And because Will had decided that ignoring her phone calls was the best way to deal with the pain those words had caused.

Well, that and because he’d done the only thing he could think of to get away from having to watch Jess marry his older brother. He’d joined the navy, shipped out for parts unknown and made no effort to keep in touch. He only knew that she hadn’t married Sal—hadn’t even accepted his ring and had broken Sal’s heart in the process. His mom had told him that much.

Will didn’t have any right to ask how Jess was doing, so he canned the small talk and asked the important question.

“You wanted to meet me, sir. What can I do for you?”

McCoy released a breath that deflated his shoulders, the dim light in his eyes vanishing altogether. He glanced toward the front door before clearing his throat. “I need your help.”

“Yes, sir.” Will bit his tongue to keep from asking why the captain hadn’t asked for this meeting to take place in his office on Coronado.

Turning his glass in endless circles, the older man stared hard at the bouncing ice cubes. The seconds ticked by as the ambient noise built around them, a group singing their hearts out by the jukebox leading the charge.

“I need this conversation to stay off the record.”

Will leaned forward, his elbows spread and arms resting on the sticky tabletop. “All right.”

“You’re under no obligation to agree to what I’m about to ask you to do.” Will nodded, but McCoy continued as though he hadn’t noticed. “If this goes badly, it could cost me my commission and you your place on the teams.”

Will swallowed a lump that had lodged somewhere below his Adam’s apple. This was his chance to walk away. McCoy was giving him an out before he knew too much. If he stuck around, he’d be privy to information that was bound to get them both in trouble.

But he hadn’t been summoned by chance. None of the other men on his boat crew had been invited. McCoy had called him specifically.

If the tingling of his spine was any indication, it had everything to do with their past acquaintance.

“Something happened to Jess.” It wasn’t a question, and as the words tumbled out of Will’s mouth, his stomach rolled. His Jess. His best friend from junior high to graduation. If she needed him, she was in trouble, and the situation was worse than he could imagine. Batting down the accompanying nausea, he squinted across the table. “Tell me everything.”

Jabbing his fingers through his hair, McCoy let out a slow breath. “Jessalynn is working on her PhD in bioengineering and had a grant to study an airborne pathogen at Southern California State University.”

Will let out a low whistle, the sound involuntary and ill equipped to convey how impressive he found her achievements.

“Three days ago she was working late in the lab. The security alarm went off about oh one hundred, and when the guard arrived, the lab had been ransacked. Jess and her bioweapon had vanished.”

Fire shot through Will’s forehead and he covered his face with his hands, praying this was some sort of sick joke. But the XO sat in equally stunned silence, as if this was the first time he’d spoken the truth aloud.

Massaging his temples, Will growled low in the back of his throat. “Who took her?”

“The DEA thinks that it’s a Panamanian drug cartel.”

“And they want what?”

McCoy’s face crumpled in silent agony. Just seeing it made Will’s chest hurt, and he clawed at his T-shirt, searching for air, the smell of alcohol and perfume catching in his throat. He could picture Jess’s bright grin and the mischievous twinkle in her eyes. But he could not picture her in Panama, fear etching her facial features until they were unrecognizable.

This was a hoax. Someone was playing a cruel joke.

His Jess couldn’t be at the hands of some drug cartel. She was safe and sound. And probably long-ago married to someone who actually deserved her.

Except the tortured voice of a father unable to save his only child wasn’t easily conjured. It carried with it the pain of broken hearts and lost dreams.

Sean McCoy wasn’t tricking him. He was a man in need of help.

Will closed his eyes, pursed his lips until they almost touched the tip of his nose and released a pent-up breath. “Let me guess. They want to use the pathogen and need someone to release it for them.”

“A friend at the DEA says there’s a bitter land war going on down there between two cartels. Bringing in a biological weapon seems very in character. Unfortunately, since they’re only attacking each other rather than targeting civilians, the DEA isn’t interested in getting involved, as long as it’s not crossing over our borders.”

“Doesn’t kidnapping an American count as crossing our borders?”

He shook his head. “They can’t definitively prove who was behind the abduction. And they’re about as eager to poke around drug cartels as a mouse would be to wake a snoring bobcat.”

“What about the government? Why don’t they send a team down to extract her?”

McCoy closed his eyes. “There’s not enough intel to know exactly where she’s been taken. They’re searching all of Panama right now, but the jungle is dense, and it could be weeks before they have enough info to send in an extraction team.”

The captain’s unspoken words hung between them. Jess didn’t have weeks to spare.

With folded hands pressed to his wrinkled forehead, Will pinched his eyes closed. Someone had to go after Jess. She wouldn’t survive for long after the cartel got what they wanted. Once she’d served her purpose, they would have no need for her.

His middle clenched, as if he was preparing for a blow from an opponent in the boxing ring. The truth hit harder than any fist.

The cartel would dispose of her. Soon.

He’d always thought he’d have a chance to end their decade of silence. And a bunch of drug-slinging bioterrorists weren’t going to take that chance from him. He owed her an apology, and he would make sure he had a chance to deliver it.

Pressing flat hands to the tabletop, he gazed into McCoy’s haunted eyes across the table. “What is it you want me to do?”

Another sigh. Another droop to the wide shoulders. “The United States Navy has no official jurisdiction in this situation. Officially, they have no information about it and absolutely no plans for a rescue attempt.”

“I understand.”

“Do you?” Bushy eyebrows pulled together, and a flicker of something akin to hope appeared in the captain’s hazel eyes, so much like his daughter’s.

“Yes, sir. I’m going to need approval for a short leave of absence.”

For the first time that evening, the corner of McCoy’s mouth quirked upward in a true smile. “Done.”

“I’ll be out of touch. Completely.” He stared hard at the older man, wishing he could come right out and tell the tough truth. But now that Will had agreed, McCoy needed to set up some plausible deniability. The captain couldn’t know the details. If a superior officer started asking questions, he’d have to tell the truth. No details meant no lies.

The XO hadn’t asked Will to do anything. No orders. Not even a suggestion. Just a conversation in a seedy bar far from the base and further from their norm. No one would recognize them enough to pinpoint that this was the night their lives changed.

But they were about to.

“I understand,” McCoy said.

Eager tension built in his legs, and Will nodded toward the door. “I’d better get going.” He slid across the bench and zipped his jacket as he rose.

The captain followed his movements, trailing him between the pool tables and into the starlit parking lot. Gusts of fresh air were like a lifeboat to a man who didn’t know he was drowning. The sweet scent of the breeze wrapped around him, and he took deep breaths through his nose until his mind was clear of everything but the mission ahead of him.

“Thank you.” The older man’s voice was lower, more gravelly.

Will nodded, but didn’t directly respond. Instead he said, “Please let her husband know that I’ll do everything I can.”

McCoy shoved his hands into the pockets of his blue jeans and cocked his head to the side, his ear almost to his shoulder. “Her husband?”

His palms suddenly sweaty, Will rubbed them against his pants. Was McCoy just pulling his leg or was it possible that she’d never settled down? Jess marrying someone—anyone—else had been the reason for ten years of silence. Was it possible she’d never gotten married at all?

The questions running through his mind must have been broadcast on his face because the captain let out a low chuckle. “Oh, Jess quit dating about the time you disappeared.”

Will nodded, confusion mixing with an unnamed emotion in his chest and leaving him speechless.

“She said she’d rather focus on her education. I tried to talk to her about it, but she didn’t have much to say on the matter. I wish like fire that her mother had been around for that. She’d have known what to say. Instead I bumbled through, and Jessalynn told me not to worry about it, so I let it go.”

The words tumbled around Will’s mind as he tried to make sense of them. Finally, they reemerged as a question as smooth as sandpaper. “Then Jess is—she’s not—she’s never gotten married?”

“No. She’s not married.” The captain offered a fraction of a grin. Maybe it was just a twitch, but it sure looked like more. Like an invitation to be a man instead of running like the boy he’d been all those years before.

McCoy clapped him on the back before striding toward his car. Halfway there, he spun around with a loose shrug of one shoulder. “Try not to start a war, son.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll try.”

But no promises. If it took a war to save Jess, he’d start and end it.

* * *

When three sharp cracks broke the air on the opposite side of the lush courtyard, Jessalynn McCoy fell to the lawn, dropping the box she’d been carrying and covering her head with both hands.

“Up! Up!” The man with the large black gun slung across his chest, dressed head to toe in green camouflage, dug the tip of his boot into her ribs. She cringed, curling into the pain, her already labored breaths coming out in quick puffs. He hadn’t fired the warning shots, but she didn’t doubt that he was willing to shoot at anything. Even her.

Pushing shaking hands beneath her, she glared up into the shadowed face of her guard, Manuel. He was charged with keeping her inside the compound and lugging a myriad of outdated scientific equipment to the room they’d deemed a laboratory. He frowned and spit toward her, barely missing her shoulder. She glared at him, jerking away from the spot next to her hand where the disgusting stream had landed.

Manuel grunted, kicked her foot and pointed his gun at the broken beakers and hot plates scattered at her side. They didn’t need to speak the same language for her to understand what he wanted. When she didn’t move immediately, he wrapped his hand around her arm. Jess jerked it away, her skin crawling under the touch of his callused fingers.

Why couldn’t they just leave her alone?

Every morning they insisted on marching her from her cell of a room to the kitchen for a spicy breakfast and then pushing her from the storage shed to the lab and back, carrying supplies that had probably been upgraded about the time Louis Pasteur started studying biology.

She didn’t bother voicing her complaints. What good would it do? She wasn’t a guest. She was a prisoner. And so she kept her mouth shut and her eyes on the exits, dreaming up wildly improbable escape plans.

Realistically, she knew she’d never be able to get away on her own. She didn’t even know what country she was in. Even if she could scale an outside security wall and scramble over the loops of barbed wire and shards of glass without getting snagged, she had no idea what she’d face on the other side, or how she would get to help.

She was stuck inside this steaming, muddy compound—with or without a personal escort.

At least until she could figure out a plausible plan.

Or until her dad sent help.

Manuel shoved her shoulder, and she whispered, “God, please let him send help soon.”

“Qué?” Manuel shook his dark hair off his forehead, his eyes boring into her.

Jess swallowed and blinked, fighting the urge to look away. “Nothing.” She didn’t wait for him to push her again, but stooped to collect the scattered debris.

The weight of the full box in her arms made each step through the dewy grass twice as hard, three times as slow. She was losing strength, her energy reserves depleting quickly from too much manual labor and too many nights with not enough sleep.

She wasn’t about to risk more than just the essential catnaps at night.

Someone had been poking around outside her room the night before.

She wasn’t going to be asleep if they managed to make it in.

Exhaustion was wearing her down, but she didn’t have a choice about setting up her lab, as ordered. Manuel seemed far too eager to use his gun, taking every opportunity to butt the barrel against her. Like a teenager given his first car, Manuel couldn’t wait to take it for a test drive.

When they reached one of the nondescript gray, cinder block buildings that seemed to multiply within the compound, Manuel went to work on the large, padlocked metal door. It squealed as he pushed it open and motioned for her to follow him in.

Jess stumbled over the four-inch step, her legs like overcooked fettuccine. With a clinking of glass, the box she’d been carrying landed on one of four black tables evenly spaced in the middle of the room. The table’s wooden legs slid on the cement floor as Jess fell against it.

Manuel grumbled and motioned for her to rearrange the furniture.

If they’d spoken the same language, she’d have told him that this high school chemistry class replica— complete with two full walls of counter space and one measly window—was more likely to cause them all to be killed than keep the Morsyni toxin safe until it was released.

At least, she assumed that’s what they wanted her to do. Really, it was all a guess at this point. Manuel’s monosyllabic grunts and broken English had barely hinted at why she’d been attacked, drugged and dragged to...wherever this was. But it wasn’t a far jump to guess that it had everything to do with her research on the Morsyni toxin. Before three men in black ski masks had abducted her from the Southern California State University lab, they’d forced her to retrieve her sample vial of the powder. She had just one gram of the ultrafine substance, but it contained more than a trillion lethal spores.

Which was enough to kill fifty million people. Or more.

Jess’s stomach lurched at the very thought. Her research had all been targeted at better understanding the Morsyni, hoping to one day find a cure. Or at least a way to minimize its effects. But whoever had brought her here just wanted to twist her expertise and use it against... Well, she didn’t know who. But someone was a target, and she had been set up to be the arrow.

Suddenly the humidity wasn’t the only thing making it hard to breathe. She pushed past Manuel and out the door, hoping that the narrow alley along the back of the cinder block barrack would provide enough air to lift the band around her chest.

They could have only one reason for taking her, too. They needed someone who knew how to release the toxin without killing everyone inside the compound.

Manuel shoved her shoulder, gesturing her back to the storage shed to get more supplies. “Move.” He locked the door and then resumed breathing on her neck. She shuddered at the stale odor, praying once again to be anywhere but confined by these compound walls with this man as her tail.

She’d nearly worn the winding path to the shed into a muddy trench, but she kept her head down as she trudged toward their destination.

They emerged into the courtyard, the afternoon sun steaming her skin through her cotton shirt. They had to be near the equator. Or possibly on the sun.

Jess was nearly all the way across the courtyard when her foot disappeared into a mud puddle, and she lurched to the ground, landing on all fours.

Manuel yelled at her, and she glared over her shoulder at him.

“Ocho días.” He rolled his eyes in a universal sign of displeasure. “Sólo ocho días.”

Eight days. Only eight days.

Even she, who’d passed high school Spanish only because of her best friend, could translate that. Manuel expected to have to put up with her for only eight more days. It was too much to hope that he’d simply be replaced by a different guard at the end of that time or that she’d be free to leave then.

Which could only mean one thing.

She’d have served her purpose. In eight days, she’d be expected to release the toxin.

And then she’d likely be killed.

Unless she escaped.

Something like fear and dread clawed at her insides, leaving a twisted trail of pain in its wake. She fought the sudden need to vomit, and gulped in great quantities of oxygen.

“Up!”

Pushing her hands into the mud, Jess made it to her feet, and her gaze fell squarely on a man in a tattered gray suit twenty yards away. Two armed guards held his elbows as he glowered at another one, who seemed to be in charge. The man in the gray suit turned a blank stare on her, his pale face cloaked in a five-o’clock shadow. And devoid of any recognition.

But she knew him.

She’d known him more than half her life, though she hadn’t seen him in years.

At least...at least it looked like Will.

Her heart leaped to her throat, lodging there as she tried to call out.

Manuel stepped into her line of sight, and by the time she’d scrambled to look around him, the familiar face had disappeared.

Maybe the heat and humidity were causing hallucinations. Maybe she’d simply imagined him, hoping someone would come for her.

But why would her mind conjure Will Gumble?

“Vámanos.” Manuel nudged her toward the giant house that took up nearly half of a security wall. Its golden stucco walls and clay-tile roof were out of place among the host of intentionally unremarkable buildings in its shadow. It had to be home to the man or men in charge, although she’d yet to see them.

She followed the path around the big house to the storage shed, pushing all thoughts of Will Gumble out of her mind. She had eight days—less, actually—to make it out of this place alive. And dwelling on her former best friend wasn’t going to rescue her. She had to find a way out on her own.

TWO

Jess huddled in the farthest corner of her cell, behind the bed where she’d managed to filch only a few hours of sleep the past few nights. The lumpy mattress and loose bedsprings stood like a sentinel between her and the doorway now, but they wouldn’t be much protection if anyone came in.

She grasped the foot-long wrench she’d stolen off a maintenance cart three days before, holding it vertical and ready to swing if her worst nightmare crashed through that door. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness of the windowless room enough that she could make out the rotting slats of the lower part of the door by the crack of light seeping beneath it.

Despite plenty of threatening noises every night since her arrival, no one had unlocked the bolt on the outside of the door. Not yet. But if someone did, she’d be ready for him.

She crouched for what felt like hours, unable to tell the exact passage of time, but the transition from screaming pain to a dull ache to numbness in her thighs was better than a clock.

In the loose haze between alertness and the siren call of sleep, her mind began to wander to the familiar face she’d seen that afternoon. Of course, it couldn’t possibly have been Will. She hadn’t seen him in ten years. She probably wouldn’t recognize him even if they sat face-to-face. The man had just resembled him. Dark brown hair and a jaw chiseled into a blunt point. From that distance, she’d only gotten the impression of dark eyes that probably bore no resemblance to the milk-chocolate ones she remembered. And the man who’d entered the compound today had worn a very dark, very handsome five-o’clock shadow. Will had never been able to grow much facial hair.

Well, eighteen-year-old Will hadn’t, anyway.

A gentle thud against the door sent her heart into overdrive, all traces of sleep tossed aside. She leaned forward, her grip on the wrench sending spasms through her fingers. Taking a shaky breath, she blinked into the darkness as the telltale rattle of a doorknob sounded. The inside lock held. But for how long?

A shadow briefly blocked the light seeping beneath the door, the feet there moving soundlessly.

She gasped for breath, the heavy, humid air like a wet towel draped across her nose and mouth.

It was now or never. She could wait for the man to enter, to investigate the room and find her in the corner. Or she could face him with the element of surprise.

She scrambled toward the entrance, the sound of her shuffling feet echoing against the cinder blocks no matter how she tried to muffle her steps.

A hiccup surprised her, and she slapped her palm over her mouth to mute the obnoxious noise.

The lock clicked, and she held her breath as she slipped behind the door, painfully swallowing another hiccup. The sound of her pounding heart seemed to fill the room as the flimsy wooden slats swung open, leaving a narrow beam from the courtyard security light spilling across the floor. The shadow of a broad man filled the gap. His movements silent, his motions sure, he closed the door after stepping inside.

This was her only chance. Her only hope of protecting herself.

If Jess could fight him off now, maybe word would spread that she wasn’t to be trifled with.

The wrench weighed more than a school bus, and was almost as unwieldy, as she swung it toward his head. She had to knock him out, or at least to the ground. Then maybe she could even make a run for it.

Just before the metal connected with the barely visible outline of his skull, he ducked and lifted an arm. The tool glanced off his shoulder, grazing his neck. In a flash he grabbed it, and before she could let go, he jerked it behind her back, leaving her arm twisted and useless. Fire screamed up to her kinked shoulder.

He promptly cut off her shriek with a callused hand clamped over her mouth. His steely arm pinned hers to her side and pressed her body against his chest. She writhed and shook, trying to free herself, but the wall of muscle at her back didn’t even seem to register her struggle. Her frantic effort only made her lungs burn for the oxygen he was depriving her of.

When her head began spinning in earnest, her muscles went limp and her fight ebbed away.

Only then did she realize that the man was speaking softly in her ear, his whispered breath fanning the trembling muscles of her neck.

“Jess, calm down. I won’t hurt you.” The words made no sense to her muddled brain, but they continued, quiet and assured. “Don’t scream. It’s all right. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

It wasn’t the words that made her sink into him, but the voice that, even after all this time, she’d recognize anywhere. Her eyes hadn’t been playing tricks on her that afternoon. Will Gumble was in this compound. In her very room.

He must have sensed her acquiescence. He slowly loosened his hand from over her mouth and rested it on her upper arm. His firm grip was the only thing that kept her standing.

“What are you—” Her words were little more than a frantic sigh as he spun her around. Pressing one finger to his lips, he raised his eyebrows and nodded toward the only other door in the room.

He didn’t wait for her to agree, just steered her toward the bathroom and closed the door behind them.

She yanked on the string above the sink, and the naked bulb over the cloudy mirror burst to life, bathing them in its yellow glow. Jess blinked against the sudden brightness.

Will didn’t seem to have the same trouble. He immediately lifted the lid off the toilet tank and peered inside before running his hands under the white porcelain sink. With a finger he swiped around the edge of the mirror. Then he leaned forward until her nose was almost pressed to his chest, and he swiped his hand over the top of the door frame.

He pulled back and nodded, as if satisfied. “It’s clear. There may be bugs in your room, so we should never talk in there. But this should be safe for now.”

Scrambling to catch up to his train of thought, Jess surveyed the sink and mirror. How could he act so casual? As if it hadn’t been ten years since they’d spoken? As if he hadn’t just shown up in a foreign country where she was being held prisoner? As if the very sight of him didn’t make her knees weak with relief?

“I thought I saw you—I thought that was you, but...” Her words were little more than a whisper despite his assurance that it was safe to speak. Her stomach pitched, fear and relief mingling with alarm and the echo of a remembered betrayal. But dealing with her emotions would have to wait until she felt steadier on her feet. Exhaustion and the ebbing of her fight-or-flight adrenaline rush had left her legs like jelly. She leaned into Will. He held out his arms, as though he knew just what she needed. As though he was still someone who cared about taking care of her, being there for her.

But she didn’t want him holding her. She wanted answers. She wanted to understand what on earth was happening. Most of all, she wanted to silence the little voice in her head that kept saying Will’s appearance was simply a dream or hallucination.

Yanking herself upright at the last possible moment, she shoved his chest with both hands. “You scared me to death! Why did you break into my room? What are you doing here?”

His lopsided grin had always started with a little quirk to the left before spreading across his mouth. And that hadn’t changed, even as he looked down at the tiny black-and-white-checkered floor tiles.

He scraped his fingers over the black whiskers covering his chin. “Your dad sent me.”

“My dad?”

“Well, I couldn’t say no to my new XO, could I?”

“So you’re still in the navy?” Oh, she sounded bitter—so much more bitter than she wanted to. Why couldn’t her words be flippant and nonchalant, as if it didn’t really matter that she no longer knew even the most basic things about him? He’d popped back into her life, and she didn’t want it to matter.

But it did.

Maybe because of the extreme situation.

Sure. She’d just keep telling herself that.

His smile flickered for a moment before he nodded slowly. “I am.”

Forcing a chuckle, she said, “I figured when my dad realized I was missing, he’d send a SEAL team to bring me home.” At least she had hoped he’d do that.

“Not a full team—he just sent one.”

Her breath vanished, and she blinked twice.

Will Gumble had become a SEAL. An elite warrior. The best that the United States military offered.

What else didn’t she know about him?

* * *

Will crossed his arms over his chest. Anything to keep from reaching out for Jess again. From being rejected again.

But he couldn’t pull his gaze from her face, all smooth lines and fair skin, except for the dark bags below her bloodshot eyes. Those were both probably recent additions. Most people couldn’t sleep much under this kind of stress. Just because he’d been trained to survive for days on catnaps didn’t mean Jess would look refreshed doing the same.

Her hair brushed across her forehead and her eyebrows pulled together, leaving three vertical lines in the center.

“Where’s the rest of your team?”

“Stateside.”

With stilted movements, she crossed her arms, matching his stance. Her gaze swept from his head to his toes and back again, her eyes shifting from pale green to the color of the sea in a typhoon. The scrutiny made him feel like a kid who’d been called into the principal’s office.

He resisted the sudden urge to flex his arms against the seams in the sport coat to remind her that he wasn’t a boy any longer. This wasn’t about how much either one of them had changed. This was about getting her—and her bioweapon—back to San Diego. Back to a lab where they would both be secure.

“Why’d you come alone? Don’t you usually stick together?”

He lifted one shoulder. “Usually. But this isn’t exactly an authorized op.”

The corners of her mouth turned down, confusion washing across her features. “What does that mean?”

“I’m...freelancing.”

“So my dad just asked you to rescue me, even though we haven’t seen each other since we were eighteen? He asked you to drop everything and come to...to—” she waved her hand toward the yellowing walls “—wherever we are?” She paused, staring hard into his eyes. “And you did?”

For the first time in years, he didn’t know what to say, so he spit out the only word that came to mind. “Panama.”

“What?”

“We’re in Panama.”

She clenched her slightly crooked teeth and shook her head, long brown locks falling over her shoulders. “That’s not— I didn’t mean... We’re in Panama? No, that’s not what... Why are you here?” Her words were a jumbled mess, and ended in a weary sigh. Not harsh, just confused.

Truthfully, he wasn’t sure how to answer. But she deserved something more than a pat response. Taking a deep breath, he let it out through his nose before offering her what he hoped was a white-flag smile. “We were friends once. You meant a lot to me.”

“But you disappeared. You never called or responded to my emails or even came back to visit. I had to find out from your mom that you’d joined the navy.” Her voice picked up volume as memories seemed to fuel her ire, and he pressed a finger to his lips. She immediately dropped her volume, but she couldn’t hide the vibrato of her voice. “You left, and suddenly you’re back when I need someone the most? I don’t understand.” Her hands shook and her eyes glistened as her emotions jumped to the forefront.

True. Everything she’d said was true, but this wasn’t the time to rehash his immature stupidity. They needed to make a plan, but he had a feeling she was too exhausted to think tactically. That was fine—he needed at least a day to get the lay of the land, anyway. And meanwhile, she needed sleep and to know she was safe enough to truly give in to it.

“Jess, I’m sorry. You’re right. I do owe you an explanation. But maybe that can wait. For now, can you trust me enough to believe that I will find a way to get you out of here?”

“And the Morsyni powder?”

“Yes. I’ll get you both out.”

The features of her face were still pinched as she pointed toward the outside wall. “How? You can’t exactly climb over that fence. And there are guards everywhere. How are you going to get us out of here?”

“I’m not sure yet. But I’ll come up with something. Just give me some time.”

Her eyes grew wide. “We don’t have time. I don’t know what they’re planning to do with the toxin, but it’s going to happen soon. All day my guard has been muttering to himself that he only has to deal with me for eight more days. I think they brought me here to release the Morsyni. What if they get impatient? What if we don’t even have that long?”

A slow grin spread across his face, and she stopped her frantic speech. “What are you smiling about?” she demanded.

“Nothing.” But it wasn’t nothing. Jess had said we. She was going to stick with him. She trusted him enough to think of them as a team. And the rest of the trust he had to earn back...well, that would come with time. “I will find a way out, all right? And until then, I’m going to be by your side as much as possible. You just have to pretend that you don’t know me.”

She uncrossed her arms and leaned against the sink, her palms resting on the lip of porcelain. It looked as if it took all of her strength to stay on her feet. “Why?”

“The powers that be inside this drug cartel think they brought me here to help you release a bioweapon. They think I’m an engineer.”

“But you’re not, are you? What do you know about science?”

“About as much as I picked up in our sophomore-year chemistry class.”

“So why do they think you can help me?” She squinted, the turning cogs in her mind nearly visible beneath the fair skin of her forehead.

“A friend of mine in the DEA used one of her undercover contacts to spread my name—well, the name William Darrow—around as an expert on Morsyni, and this cartel took the bait. They hauled me in—just like they did you.”

She blinked fast, pressing a palm against her forehead and swaying slightly. It was a lot of information to take in at one time. A lot to think about on severely limited sleep. He got that. “So we don’t know each other,” she finally said.

“Right. They’re going to drag me to your lab tomorrow and introduce us. I need you to act like you’ve never met me before in your life.”

“All right.”

He rubbed his palm up and down her arm, either to steady her swaying form or to see if this time she’d accept his touch, his comfort.

Definitely the first.

Probably.

No, it had to be the first because there could never be anything more than friendship between them.

“We’ve got to stay under the radar and keep the guards off our scent,” he said. “Can you help me maintain my cover until we get out of the country?”

“Panama.” Her tongue slurred the word, her eyes squinting into the space over his left shoulder.

“Right.” With a gentle hand, he held on to her elbow, keeping her upright. Some of the tension in her face eased, and she leaned toward him slightly. “You need to get some sleep,” he said. “Tomorrow we’ll try to work out a plan.”

“What kind of plan?”

Will glanced toward the ceiling, hoping to find answers there. But all he discovered were big patches of green mold marring the once white tiles. For a multimillion-dollar drug lord, whoever was running this cartel sure had let his compound fall into disrepair.

“Probably something like tonight. I’ll break into your room and we’ll get out of here.” He rubbed his shoulder, which would have a bruise the next day. In a lighter tone, he added, “Maybe next time try not to hit me with your wrench.”

The teasing was lost on her, but she nodded.

“Listen, when we leave here, I need you to have the strength to run and the presence of mind to think on your feet. This sleepwalking bit you’re pulling isn’t going to cut it. You’ve got to get some rest.”

Her eyes flew wide open, her head whipping from side to side. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” As soon as the words left his mouth, he recognized his stupidity. She’d been waiting for him, weapon in hand, when he’d crept into her room. She had been prepared for anyone.

Because it might not be him sneaking into her room.

His stomach rolled at the thought, bile rising in the back of his throat.

He squinted at her, trying to guess what she’d endured at the hands of these monsters. Her guard had laughed at her when she’d fallen into the mud that afternoon. How much worse had it been? Will tightened his grip on her elbow, but she didn’t shy away, instead leaning more heavily against him. “Have you been— Has there been—” Words failed him at first, but he pushed on. “Has someone else come in here?”

She gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head. “Not yet.” Her voice had barely enough force to reach his ears.

A rock fell in his gut, thudding heavily. “But they’ve threatened to?”

“It’s more the leers and foul gestures. And the noises late at night. You know what I mean?”

He nodded because he didn’t want to hear the tremble in her voice for another second. Some men—twisted men—took pleasure in frightening and harming women.

Those men made Will sick.

Others were just too self-centered to notice a woman’s discomfort in the face of crudeness.

And Will knew a thing or two about the latter. At some point in history, sailors had earned a reputation for language and conduct unbecoming of gentlemen. And there was still a group of them determined to carry on that tradition. He’d even been one of them when he’d first joined up. Too arrogant to recognize his own impudence.

But that was before he’d met L. T. Sawyer, Rock Waterstone, Jordan Somerton and the other men of SEAL Team Fifteen. Before he’d joined their ranks.

Will wasn’t that cocky boy any longer. And he would do whatever it took to protect Jess.

Stabbing his fingers through his hair, he snatched several quick breaths. His pulse slowed to almost normal when he closed his eyes and forced himself not to think about Jess in jeopardy.

“Here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to make sure that you’re safe. Every night.”

Drooping eyelids lifted with hope, but uncertainty still masked her face. “How?” she asked.

“I’ll be right outside your door from midnight until the first movement in the morning. I won’t let anyone near you.”

She wanted to believe him. He could see it in her eyes.

But she wouldn’t forget that he’d once let her down. That he’d once promised to come back and hadn’t followed through.

How could he convince her that he wouldn’t do that again?

Cupping her cheek with his palm, he brushed his thumb over her cheekbone. “I never stopped being your friend. I just didn’t know how to be your best friend when everything was changing. But I swear to you, I’ll be here to protect you until you’re safely back in San Diego. In time for Christmas. All right?”

She swallowed, her head lowering and lifting slowly.

It was all he needed before he turned off the light and whisked her back into her bedroom. She fell onto the mattress, her head landing on a thin pillow. By the time he pulled a threadbare blanket to her shoulders, her breathing had already slowed.

“How’s Sal?”

Her voice caught him halfway to the door, but it was what she said that stopped him short. A fist around his throat choked his response, and he had to cough before he could even whisper. “He’s fine. He misses you, I think. But he’s fine.”

“Is he married?”

The fingers around Will’s neck squeezed even tighter, until his response was little more than a breath. “No.” He didn’t expound. Couldn’t manage to tell her that his brother was still hung up on her after all these years.

Instead he closed the door behind him and slipped around the side of the small building. Tucked in the shadows, out of sight of the guards standing sentry over the compound walls, he squatted, ready to wait the night through. At least he’d have some time to formulate a plan to keep a madman from releasing the deadly bioweapon. Right now the best option looked as if it would involve some kind of escape.

But Will wouldn’t be able to walk Jess out the front gate. And they had to get away without the extraction services of the United States Navy. There was a lot of land between them and the American Embassy in Panama City. A lot of cartel-controlled land.

This was a foolhardy idea.

And there was nothing he’d rather do.

THREE

Jess glanced at the heavy metal door—the only entrance to her lab—again. Still no sign of her new lab mate. Manuel, however, leaned on the doorjamb, one hand in his pocket, the other resting loosely on the black machine gun hanging from its strap on his shoulder. A black gas mask hung around his neck. Jess didn’t bother to tell him it was outdated and probably wouldn’t protect him from the toxin contained in a plastic vial.

At least it was a sight better than the paper mask they’d given her. If they expected her to open the airtight canister containing the toxin, they’d have to give her better protective gear. At her lab back home, she’d had a full-body suit and her own oxygen supply inside a lab with double air locks.

Clearly, her hosts in Panama didn’t care if she lived or died. They were just concerned with finding a way to disperse the small quantity of Morsyni over a wide area. Whoever the target was, she felt sorry for them. The effects of the toxin would be widespread and instantaneous, causing painful sores on the skin and even worse abrasions on the lungs. The airborne pathogen wouldn’t cause immediate death, rather its fingers would slowly constrict the lungs until they could inhale no more painful breaths.

“Aye!” Manuel’s shrill call told her that his relaxed pose was only a facade. Apparently, she wasn’t unloading and cleaning the box of scientific instruments fast enough for him.

“Time. It takes time.”

“No time. Now.”

Why? Why did it have to be done now? She bit her tongue before the words could escape. He only got angry when she asked him questions. She cranked up a Bunsen burner and set a beaker of water to boil, dropping in an unmeasured mound of NaCl, sodium chloride, better known as common table salt. Maybe that would buy her some time. At least she looked busy, and the swirling mist of dissolving salt gave Manuel something to focus on while she unpacked microscope slides and set about washing them.

And considered her options.

If she really wanted to release the toxin in aerosol form in this sort of lab, her best option would be to disassemble used tear gas canisters and repurpose them.

But she didn’t want to release it. She wanted to destroy it. Except there wasn’t a way to destroy the powder without releasing the ultramicroscopic spores into the air. The lab didn’t have a detonation chamber, and the ventilation hood in the back corner wasn’t capable of containing such an acute toxin. Her best chance was to escape before the toxin was scheduled to be released, with the powder in hand. But could she keep stalling until Will found them a way out?

Her stomach jumped at the memory of her midnight visitor. She’d been safe. If just for a few hours before he’d knocked softly on her window to wake her before leaving his self-assigned post, she’d rested. That morning her mind hadn’t been blank, her muscles not quite so sluggish.

Will had protected her for the night. But could he keep it up until they found an escape?

Three loud thumps sounded on the metal door, jerking Jess from her thoughts.

“Safe?” Hampered by lack of English, Manuel asked with his eyes what he couldn’t express in words. If he allowed any toxin out into the compound, he would be dead before the Morsyni could take effect.

She nodded. “Sí.”

He cocked his head, as if to confirm her certainty, and she nodded again.

The natural brilliance of the sun streaming through the open door blinded her after a morning under the painful glow of flickering fluorescent lights. Blinking into it, she could make out two forms. The easy swagger and relaxed movements of the larger man overshadowed the silhouette at his side.

The door’s heavy metal clawed against cement before clanging shut and leaving the brilliance on the other side.

The first man wore a brown military uniform, the buttons straining against his belly. The hunched shoulders and wary stance of the figure at his side practically made the smaller man disappear into the other’s shadow.

Will stood there with all the presence of a sea monkey.

Jess clenched her jaw to keep her mouth from falling open. This man, this fragment of a figure, was not the same one who had broken into her room the night before. He looked beaten. He’d been bested.

Whatever they’d done to him...

Her imagination shot to the worst possible scenario. If they’d found him sneaking back into his room, they wouldn’t have gently escorted him out of the compound. They’d have used their fists and feet or worse to make him do whatever they wanted.

The night before, he’d been so strong, had filled her room with such power.

He’d looked the part of a SEAL.

But not now.

It took everything inside her not to run to him, wrap her arm around his slumped shoulders and ask if he was seriously injured.

And then he caught her gaze with his own. And he winked.

She sucked in a quick breath, the air catching in her throat, tearing a cough from somewhere deep in her chest.

He was playing a part. The part. She should have realized that the cartel wouldn’t have believed the man in her room the night before was a scientist. That man was a battle-tested, steely-eyed warrior. And he had nothing in common with the figure standing before her now.

Straightening her shoulders, she blinked away the rush of relief, focusing hard on the boiling salt water on the burner.

Will’s guard shoved him hard, and he stumbled— convincingly—into the corner of the table. His grunt echoed and was only drowned out by the yell of Manuel’s partner in crime. Spanish words poured from his mouth faster than she could understand them, but he jabbed the barrel of his gun in her direction.

Stomach turning to steel, she was suddenly unable to move as the round end of the weapon filled her field of vision. She heard Will’s shuffling feet move in her direction until she was suddenly staring at his back. He held up appeasing hands and nodded slowly. “Sí,” he mumbled, his voice sounding pained and unfamiliar. “Whatever you say. Yes. Sí.”

Why was his Spanish so awkward? It didn’t make any sense. She knew that he spoke Spanish fluently. He and Sal both had learned from their mother’s mother—their abuelita—who had lived with the family for years.

The guard grumbled something else, and Will just kept nodding and agreeing in a jumbled mix of Spanish and English words until the other man marched toward the door, his footfalls ringing into every corner of the cement bunker.

Will turned his back to their guards. He offered her a flash of a smile and mouthed, Okay?

She gave a quick nod of her head.

“They want us to work together.” His voice was barely audible, and she leaned into him, resting her hand on his forearm, to catch the words. “Your guy is mad about what they’re having for lunch, so he’s going to leave early to try to sneak some leftovers from the cook.”

Suddenly she realized what was going on. Will’s awkwardness with the language was entirely an act. It was all for show, so he could listen in on what the guards were saying without them realizing he understood every word.

It was a smart tactic. But like everything else that had happened since his arrival the previous day, it threw her for a loop.

Her pulse kicked into high gear. She was supposed to pretend she didn’t know him. She had to act as if she’d never seen him before. She needed everyone else in the compound to believe that Will Gumble hadn’t been the only person keeping her sane when her father had deployed, for the millionth time, during her sophomore year, and she’d been left again with her great-aunt.

That was the same year they’d both been in the high school drama team’s production of My Fair Lady. Maybe Will didn’t remember that she’d been dropped from the program for missing cues and flubbing lines.

She couldn’t do this. She was going to mess it up and get them both killed.

Sweat peppered her palms, and she wiped them against her pants beneath the canvas chemistry apron.

“It’s all right.”

Will’s face was so calm, his smile so easy, she could almost believe they weren’t in any real danger. Until she glanced past him toward the two men standing watch at the door. “How can you say that?”

“Because we’re in this together.”

She jumped at the implied camaraderie. Deep in her heart, she wanted to believe him, but it wasn’t quite that easy. They’d been together when her father, then a commander, had deployed. They’d been together the summer she’d spent praying her mother would come back. They’d been together when her great-aunt had taken a nasty fall and broken her hip. But when Sal offered her a promise ring, Will had flat-out disappeared. Ten years of silence, and she was supposed to trust him again?

She glanced toward the door as Manuel’s voice grew animated and he gestured wildly to his friend, their attention clearly not on their charges. Manuel was probably still thinking about his lunch.

Whether he could read the doubt on her face or sense the tension in her shaking fists, Will’s smile dipped. “Why don’t you give me a tour of the lab? What are you working on?” He inclined his head toward her beaker, sounding sincerely interested.

“Boiling some water.” Oh, why had she said that? What if the guards overheard? Her chest tightened, a hiccup popping out before she could stop it. When her stomach pinched in nervous knots, she always ended up with the hiccups. Clapping a hand over her mouth, she squeezed her eyes shut and prayed that the hiccups would stop.

Will took a step, drawing close enough that his heat tickled her arms, and she let out another hiccup.

He was not helping the situation.

“Aye! Work!” Manuel yelled, his gun pointing toward the ceiling above their heads. He spit out a string of Spanish before jerking his head back to his friend.

Will nodded toward the black supply cabinet in the rear of the room. “Maybe you should show me around.”

* * *

Will peered over Jess’s shoulder into the dim confines of the locker along the back wall. Rows of glass beakers, plastic tubing and other basic chemistry items lined the shelves. But even he could tell the lab as a whole was ill equipped to handle the kind of science that Jess had been doing back in San Diego. It was probably more accustomed to housing meth mixers than biological weapons.

A refrigerated locker sat on the counter right next to the cupboard. Its sides were stainless steel, but the door on top was made of a clear Plexiglas. And a three-inch padlock kept the curious from opening it.

“That’s it.” She pointed toward the top of the fridge and a small black cube inside that boasted a yellow biohazard sticker. The lid was locked in place with four clamps, maintaining the airtight seal. The whole thing wasn’t much bigger than his fist, but the way she gave it a wide berth suggested its size didn’t have a direct correlation to its power.

“That’s the toxin?”

“Morsyni.” Her tone carried no small amount of reverence and a slight quiver of fear.

He caught her gaze and held it, dropping his voice low. “What is it? What exactly can it do?”

The muscles at her throat constricted as a flicker passed through her eyes. “What’s in that case is enough to kill every person in San Diego and the rest of California. And we’re not talking about an easy death.”

As his stomach clenched, he shot a look at the guards to make sure they were still ignoring them. “How bad?”

“You’ve heard of botulism?”

He nodded. “Sure. It causes trouble breathing and paralysis.”

“Usually. And it can also result in severe internal distress. Its root is the botulinum toxin, which causes nerve damage.”

He pointed at the black box. “Is that what’s in there?”

Jess shook her head, her long, dark ponytail swishing over her shoulders. “The effects of the Morsyni toxin are sometimes called botulism two point oh.”

“So if it’s released, it’ll kill everyone in the area.”

“An ugly, painful death.” She finally glanced away, dropping her gaze to her clasped hands. “For all of us.”

He sucked in the suddenly thick air. It had been humid all morning, but now he felt as if he was trying to catch a deep breath at the bottom of a pool.

The two men at the door grew louder, an argument erupting between them about who was going to go get lunch first. Sergio, the one who had been shoving Will around the compound, yanked on the door handle and marched past Manuel, who stuck his boot out, tripping his comrade. Manuel received a hard knock on the leg in retaliation.

As the men tussled, Will slowly stepped in front of Jess, blocking their view of her. She pressed a palm to his arm and whispered against his back, “What’s going on?”

Over his shoulder he replied in an equally low tone, “They’re both hungry. Best to look busy and stay out of their line of sight. One of them is going to lose this fight, and he won’t be happy about it.”

Jess nodded, pulling on a pair of rubber gloves and picking up metal tongs. Her movements were stilted and jerky, but productive, as she emptied and cleaned the beaker she’d been boiling water in.

While she worked and the guards continued to argue, Will slipped silently along the back wall, his hands roaming over the uneven cinder blocks. Just to the left of the supply cabinet, a dingy, yellowed window overlooked the security wall, sparks of sunlight reflecting off of the jagged edges of green and brown glass standing sentry along its top.

With a quick survey around the edges of the window, he confirmed that despite its age and color, it appeared solid. Unfortunately, he couldn’t jump onto the counter to get a closer look. At least not right that moment.

The only other window in the room was a rectangle even with the top of the door on the front wall. It contained a sputtering air conditioner, which worked about as well as a drop of water fighting a wildfire. It couldn’t possibly keep up with the jungle’s humidity, but at least the limited natural light in the building also blocked most of the force of the sun.

The window along the back wall was the only one that could possibly be useful for an escape. Or a break-in. But given the containment storage it required, most likely the toxin was going to have to come with them through the rusty metal door or be left behind.

And Jess had made it clear that the latter wasn’t an option.

Manuel and Sergio’s row reached its apex, and Will glanced at Jess, whose eyes were wide in her pale face. Checking to make sure that the guards were still not paying attention, he sidled up to her, rolling up his white shirtsleeves before slipping one of the black aprons off the hook on the wall, pulling it over his head and tying it into place on top of his wrinkled button-up.

“They’ve moved on from lunch. Now they’re arguing about which one will have the more important role in something that’s happening in a week.”

“Seriously?” The tension that wrinkled her forehead grew tighter. “What’s going to happen?”

He began to answer, but before he could speak the commotion suddenly and abruptly ceased, leaving the air thick with only the choked coughs coming from the air-conditioning unit. Will slammed his mouth closed and slipped Jess behind him as a third man joined the guards. Manuel sucked in his stomach and pushed out his chest, his arms holding his M6 at a perfect forty-five degree angle. Sergio snapped to attention, too—though his presentation wasn’t quite as smooth.

The stranger was a short man with slicked-back hair and a long mustache that curled over his upper lip. He clasped his hands behind his back, his eyes sweeping over the men, who clearly reported to him.

“El Jefe,” Manuel said.

The boss. This man was either the kingpin or someone important enough to speak in the cartel leader’s stead.

Sergio didn’t address El Jefe, but his eyes dropped to the rough cement floor, his grip on his weapon tightening until his fingers turned white. The boss clearly commanded respect, and he didn’t bother with more than a glance in Will and Jess’s direction.

“Cuando va a estar listo?” The mustache flipped toward the back of the lab, toward them.

Manuel mumbled something that Will couldn’t make out, and a fist tightened at the back of his shirt as Jess twisted the fabric and leaned into him. She didn’t have to ask her question for him to know that she wanted him to translate. But she was going to have to wait. He couldn’t afford to reveal that he understood everything they were saying.

Not yet, anyway.

The boss growled in response to Manuel’s answer, pressing fingers like round sausages into his hips at his belt. Then he let loose a stream of curses intermingled with enough information to set Will’s heart beating faster than a chopper blade. “Siete días. Entiendes?”

Then he stomped away, leaving Sergio and Manuel to return to their bitter words, angry glares and childish fighting.

“What’s going on?”

Will felt more than heard Jess’s words, and turned back to her, his arms and legs already beginning to tingle with pent-up energy.

“That man is in charge while Juan Carlos, the kingpin, is away. But Juan Carlos is coming back, and when he does, they’re going to release the toxin at a party at a nearby cartel.”

Jess’s eyes grew wide again, and she gasped, biting down on the sound to keep from alerting their guards. “When will he be here?”

“Seven days.” Will leaned down until they were eye to eye, and whispered, “We—and the toxin—have to be out of here in six.”

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