Free Never Surrender (Task Force Eagle) by Susan Vaughan Page B

“You’re hurt.”
    “Just a few scrapes.”
    She clenched her jaw and banished the dizziness,
willing her pulse to calm. They weren’t out of this yet. “Those two accosted me
in Portland.”
    Lumpy moaned and clutched his head. The other man opened
his eyes. The wound was on his shoulder, but the blood had flowed downhill
toward his head.
    “They have a lot more than that to answer for.” His
brows furrowed. “And I have nothing to tie their hands with.”
    She was usually prepared for any emergency, but her
experience had until recently consisted of computer glitches or car trouble or
Jordan’s rent. Having three thugs bleeding at her feet didn’t fall into neat
columns on a spreadsheet. Maybe she had something.
    She retrieved her backpack from behind the bushes and
dove into it. “Here, you can bind their hands with this.” She held out a roll
of duct tape.
    “Pink tape?” He hooted. “I’ll never again tease you
about that pack.”
    She helped him tear off lengths of the tape and wrap
them around their captives’ wrists and ankles. With their attackers safely
trussed, he slid his pistol into the holster.
    “None of them is Olívas?” Juliana handed him his
jacket.
    He shook his head. “But it’s a good catch. I came up
behind them with my weapon drawn but one of them fired.” He pointed to the
first wounded man. “When this one went down, Gomez dropped his gun. Then I
slipped on ice and he jumped me. That’s when you came to my rescue.”
    He wrapped her in his arms. “ Mi brava. My
heroine. I should yell at you for not staying put. You could have been hurt.”
    “I heard the fight. You could have been killed.” She
clutched him. Oh God, he meant more to her than a means to an end. How much
more she wasn’t ready to examine.
    Standing on tiptoe, she kissed him, her lips gentle on
his injured lip. For an eternity of seconds, the cold, dangerous world
disappeared. He smelled of the forest floor and sunshine and sweat, and the
taste of his blood reminded her again of his human vulnerability. A hot stab of
desire sliced through her, and she knew she was in trouble.
    “The tape and the binocs were ingenious,” he said, “but
now we have to march these guys down the mountain. I need back-up to bring them
in. Since I left the cell phone in the Silverado, you get your chance to race
ahead.”
    “To call the police.” She extricated herself from his
embrace.
    Rick handed her the keys to the truck. He arched a
brow at their rapt audience. “Hurry. I don’t want these sons of bitches getting
too comfortable lying around on this soft mountain.”
    The question that had been bouncing around in her
brain since he’d first detected the intruders’ presence wouldn’t contain itself
any longer. “Rick, how did they find us? Did they know about the cottage?”
    “ Querida , either one could be the
million-dollar question.”
    In short order, Juliana sprinted down the mountain.
She had difficulty convincing the Bar Harbor Police that her tale wasn’t a
prank, but finally the sergeant, a friend of her uncle’s, came on the line.
After forty-five minutes, three police cruisers converged on the parking area.
    Once in custody at the police station, the three
Mexicans lawyered up, in police jargon, and wouldn’t say a word in any
language. Rick arranged for federal marshals to transport the suspects to the
Cumberland County Jail.
    Juliana gave her story to one of the officers while
Rick cleaned up in the restroom. When he returned, cleaner but still bruised,
she couldn’t help listening in on his phone conversation with his office.
    A dark scowl knitting his brows, he stabbed a hand
into the air. “How the hell did they know where to go, Jake?” He listened for a
minute, then grunted a response. “I have another lead, but I’ll tell you when I
get back.” He replaced the receiver.
    “What is it, Rick? Did the other agent tell you how
they followed us?”
    He tunneled fingers through his hair. His