Run to Me Read Online Free PDF Page B

they were from the airstrip. Dense woods and jungle surrounded them. He’d made the run from the compound to the airstrip two nights ago … knew the area well. Shit, ten miles at least. No way would they make it in time. The pilot had instructions. If they weren’t there by five o’clock, he was to assume something had happened and leave. It was already four-fifty.
    A distant sound … the roar of an engine … headed his way. Ethan snagged his backpack, tucked his SIG Sauer P229 into his waistband, and stalked to the back. Yanking open the door, he grabbed a violently wiggling Shea.
    “Be still, or I’m going to knock you out again. You hear me?”
    Booted feet rammed toward his balls. Ethan jerked away but not in time. His eyes crossed as blinding bursts of agony slammed into him. He dropped his pack, let go of Shea, and bent double. As darkness edged his vision, he had the grimly humorous thought that at least she’d taken his mind off his throbbing side. Pulling in deep gasping breaths, he staved off unconsciousness, then began to work on the extreme nausea clawing at his gut.
    Hands on his knees, he observed with dispassionate interest as Shea squirmed until she fell, with a hard thud, from the back of the vehicle. She rolled on the ground and then made it to her feet. Hands still tied behind her back, legs tied at her ankles, she hobbled away. The gag in her mouth muffled what he could only assume were threats against him and insults to his ancestry. Not that he cared. At this point, he was as close as he’d ever been to saying to hell with her.
    One last deep breath. Feeling slightly less ill, he straightened. Backpack in hand, Ethan took off after her. Dawn made a slow spread of light across the sky, easily allowing him to see the short progress she made before falling. He reached the top of a small rise and found her lying faceup, in a ditch, panting. Her green eyes showed no emotion. Had he ever seen those vibrant eyes with such a cold, blank expression? Did she hate him that much?
    As much as he’d have liked to sit down in the ditch with her and have it out, he couldn’t. The growl of a vehicle grew closer and closer. If it was something he could hijack, he would. Most likely, Rosemount’s goons had caught up with him.
    He dropped into the ditch and waited. The white van that had chased and almost killed him sped by. No telling when they’d return and find Ethan’s abandoned Jeep. He and Shea needed to be long gone by then. He hauled Shea to her feet, slung her over his shoulder, and loped into the jungle.
    As he stomped through the underbrush, tiny grunts and groans came from her gagged mouth, but she’d stopped squirming. Only by cold determination did he fight back his fury. When they were a safe distance away, he’d drop her on her ass, take off the gag, and get an answer. Until then, she could grunt and groan as much as she wanted.
    Though blood trickled down his side with every step, Ethan knew the gash was little more than a flesh wound. He’d stop soon and bandage it … not yet, though. They needed to get as deep into the jungle as they could. Rosemount’s men might give up after a few hours. Till then, he had no choice but to continue. Jaw clenched with resolve, Ethan forged onward.
    She ignored the bruises and exhaustion as she planned her attack. Neither the identity of the assassin nor who’d sent him mattered. It wasn’t the first time she’d been tested in this way. Her training included periodic surprise attacks. She’d easily dispatched the previous ones, but this man was stronger, highly skilled. Not part of a training mission. So why hadn’t he killed her when he could? Was he an enemy of the master? Did he plan to ransom her as a hostage? That was unfortunate because the master would not pay for her. He had told her that repeatedly; had insisted that she repeat it herself. She was his pet, trained to do his bidding, but held no value.
    She would escape, of course. Her