I lifted my hands jokingly in surrender. “I’ll do my best, but if Cooper ever screws up—”

  “He won’t,” she said confidently. “Now get moving and bring my best friend back to me. As long as she’s still alive, I can handle whatever hell she’s been through. I just need to see her face again, Chase.”

  “Me, too,” I confessed without really stopping to think about my words.

  Torie snorted. “Then stop trying to convince me that this mission is only about rescuing a childhood friend. I know you, Chase.”

  I ignored her assumption because I thought it was best to just let that subject drop. “You’ll stand by here in case we do need a translator?”

  “You know I will, and that we’ll all be monitoring the entire operation,” she answered. “Vanna speaks some Spanish, so she’s not going to be totally ignorant about what’s happening.”

  I lifted a brow. “Is there anything else we should know?”

  Torie nodded slowly. “Even if she doesn’t show it, she’s not completely unbreakable. Every sad story she reports on eats a little piece of her soul because she’s got more compassion and empathy for people who are suffering than she cares to admit. I know you two joked around and debated with each other a lot when you’ve met up in the past, but there’s so much more to Vanna than you see on the surface.”

  I knew that. Savannah had been much less guarded as a child. “If we can rescue her, I’ll be careful not to hurt her,” I promised Torie.

  “Please be safe. Both of you,” she said in a pleading tone.

  I hefted both of the packs onto one shoulder and kissed Torie on the forehead before I said, “There’s no way in hell that Wyatt and I are going to let some idiots get the jump on either one of us.”

  She shot me a skeptical look. “I’m sure that’s what Cooper thought when he took me back to the Amazon, and look what happened there. None of you are invincible and bad things happen sometimes.”

  “Not this time,” I answered gruffly. There was too much at stake to fuck up this particular rescue.

  I needed to bring Savannah Anderson home where she belonged.

  Where she was safe.

  Where she didn’t need to be afraid.

  Where no one could hurt her.

  I’d never have a single moment of peace until I did.

  Savannah

  I desperately wanted a drink of water, but I couldn’t even open my eyes, much less get out of bed to get one.

  Pain exploded from my face and then through my entire body, most noticeably my left shoulder and my ribs.

  And I was hot. So damn hot and thirsty.

  Where am I?

  For some reason, I wasn’t capable of reasoning out what was happening to me, or why the surface beneath me was so damn hard.

  I’m definitely not in a bed.

  Why can’t I open my eyes?

  Why is my mind so damn foggy?

  I could vaguely recall starting to wake up this way before, but then…nothing.

  Shit! I had to get my eyes open. I needed to see what was going on.

  I tried to focus, and then felt utterly helpless because I failed to lift my eyelids.

  Don’t give up. Keep trying.

  I stopped concentrating on getting my eyes open for a moment and just…listened.

  The chorus of insects was unmistakable, along with the occasional cry of a bird I didn’t recognize.

  Jungle sounds.

  How was it possible that I was still in the jungle?

  The last thing I remembered was talking to my producer about our schedule, and the fact that we were leaving Panama the next morning.

  What had happened after that?

  Dammit! The more I tried to remember, the less clear those events seemed.

  Little snippets of what I assumed were memories flashed through my mind, and I didn’t know if they were true or imagined.

  Had I really headed to the outdoor shower after I’d chatted with Jen?

  My body tensed as I remembered a moment of panic like I’d never experienced before in my entire life.

  I hadn’t been able to breathe.

  Had I really been attacked from behind?

  Shit! Why couldn’t I remember?

  None of this made sense.

  Maybe I was hallucinating.

  Maybe none of that had happened.

  Maybe I was dreaming.

  If so, I was having one hell of a hard time waking myself up.

  My body started to shiver even though I felt like I was about to spontaneously combust from the heat.

  I tried to wrap my arms around my body, but my hands barely moved.

  Shit! Why wouldn’t my hands move?

  And why was the pain so horrendous every time I tried?

  Fear, pain, and frustration took over as I failed to even put my arms in motion.

  Shit! Shit! Shit!

  Somehow, I had to make sense of what was happening to me.

  Instinct was telling me that my life probably depended on my ability to shake off whatever was hampering my movements.

  I had to cool off.

  I had to get water.

  I had to fight whatever was causing my pain and lack of mobility.

  Most of all, I had to clear my head so I could figure out exactly what to do.

  I was almost certain that I wasn’t dreaming.

  I was in trouble.

  I could sense that this situation was real, and it was that same gut instinct that had saved my ass several times over the years.

  The haziness in my brain started to clear just slightly. Enough for me to realize I was, in fact, still in the jungle.

  My discussion with Jen, my producer, had actually happened.

  We’d been scheduled to leave Panama the following day.

  But something had happened.

  I was either injured or sick—or both—in the Darien jungle.

  I couldn’t remember exactly what had happened after I’d talked with Jen, but I knew we had never departed from Central America.

  I was still in the Darien jungle.

  I had to get up. I needed to find my crew and let them know that something was definitely wrong with me.

  I had to use this moment of clarity to move my ass.

  Get up, Savannah! Get the hell up!

  I couldn’t get my eyes open. My arms weren’t working. Maybe if I could sit up, that would help.

  I was laying on my back, so I tried to bend my knees a little to help me sit up. I ignored the horrific pain it caused when I started to rock my body to get into a sitting position.

  I was so weak that I could hardly move, but I tried to power through it.

  Before I could completely rock myself into a sitting position, I was suddenly slammed onto my back again by a powerful blow to my ribs.

  “Stupid bitch!” an evil sounding male voice exclaimed in heavily accented English. “I think you want to die.”

  An icy sensation ran down my spine as I realized that I recognized that grating baritone.

  This bastard was the reason I hurt everywhere.

  It was probably a good thing that I was too weak and my mouth was too dry to speak.

  My recall ability suddenly went into overdrive, and it sent a jolt of terror through me.

  Trying to fight, trying to escape, hadn’t gotten me anywhere. Every time I had resisted, I’d gotten pummeled.

  I remembered now, even though my brain wasn’t totally clear.

  I couldn’t move my hands because I was tightly bound.

  More than likely, I couldn’t open my eyes because they were swollen shut.

  I’d fought my kidnappers hard, but I’d lost that battle and every additional one I’d engaged in since then.

  Panic filled my being as I recognized the fact that I no longer knew how long I’d been held captive in the middle of the jungle.

  I’d repeated this cycle of forgetting and then remembering some of what had happened to me so many times that I’d lost count.

  After the first time, my memories had gotten more and more confused.

  It was taking me longer and longer to remember that I was being held hostage by four assholes who saw me only as a possible payday.

  My condition was rapidly deteriorating.

  Would I even wake up the next time?

  Terror flooded through me as I heard my jailer rummaging through his belongings.

  Please, not again! Not again!

  My body was beaten and broken, but I at least wanted to keep my brain intact.

  I choked back a sob of anger and helplessness as I felt the needle go into my arm.

  The drugs this criminal gang possessed were potent, and I knew I only had a few moments before I’d sink into the darkness, wondering if I was ever going to wake up again.

  Judging by my confusion with each awakening, I was fairly certain they were upping the dose with every injection, hoping to keep me quiet for a longer period of time.

  I knew my fight to stay conscious was fruitless, but I tried to struggle against the effects of the drugs anyway.

  Someone must have noticed that I’m missing.

  My crew must be looking for me.

  My death wasn’t a total certainty as long as rescue was possible, right?

  I tried to not to panic and hang onto that tiny thread of hope as I tumbled into the big black hole that instantly swallowed me whole—again.

  Chase

  “You doing okay?” Wyatt asked quietly from his seat in a recliner as we made our way to Panama in my private jet.

  My brother and I had discussed the confession that Torie had made at headquarters right after we’d boarded, but we’d been fairly quiet for the last few hours.

  My eyes flew to his face as I listened to the quiet rumble of the jet engine bringing us closer and closer to our destination. We’d both been going through the paperwork that Marshall had given us on Savannah. “Yeah. Why do you ask?”

  Wyatt shrugged. “I haven’t seen you bouncing your leg around like that for years. Are you nervous?”

  I opened my mouth to deny that I was anxious, but suddenly realized that I had reverted to a nervous habit that I’d broken a long time ago.

  My leg was jumpy, like I was more than impatient to arrive at the airport in Central America.

  Shit! I had nixed that annoying and telling habit years ago—right after I’d joined the 160th. Showing any sign of emotion during an operation was dangerous.

  I immediately stopped the jerky motion.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled as I noticed the concern in Wyatt’s gaze. “I’m not nervous about the mission in general, even though we haven’t done one ourselves in a long time. I’ll have your back. I just want to get Vanna the hell out of there.”

  My older brother’s expression was grim as he answered, “Never once did I worry about the mission or your abilities. I’m asking as your older brother if you’re jittery about Savannah. To be honest, I’m worried about her, too. It’s going to kill Torie if we can’t bring her back alive. And I’ve always liked Savannah. I didn’t spend as much time with her as you have in the past, but she’s a good person, and a damn good journalist. She doesn’t deserve this.”

  I let out a heavy sigh. Wyatt and I had always been close. Yeah, we argued and he could be a sarcastic, cynical asshole at times, but I never doubted that he gave a shit about his family and people he cared about. He was usually all business when he was on a mission, but this one was obviously a little different because he knew and cared about Savannah, and she meant everything to Torie.

  I may have spent more years with Savannah when she was younger, before I was off to college, but that didn’t mean he didn’t consider her family. She was Torie’s best friend and a woman who had been at our little sister’s side during the worst experience of her life. That was good enough for Wyatt to feel protective of Savannah.

  “She’s more than a good person,” I admitted. “She’s fucking amazing, Wyatt. Just the thought of her being in pain or being in trouble doesn’t sit well with me.”

  He nodded. “I figured,” he said simply.

  “What does that mean?” I asked as I shot him a confused look.

  “She’s more to you than just Torie’s best friend,” Wyatt replied, his tone annoyingly confident.

  “She’s not,” I said hurriedly. “I mean, she shouldn’t be. Fuck! She can’t be. The fact is, she is Torie’s best friend. She sees me as an honorary big brother, Wyatt. She always has.”

  He lifted a brow. “Maybe I don’t say much, but do you really think anyone missed the way you two looked at each other at Torie’s wedding? Maybe you two were engaged in a debate, as usual. But your eyes were saying something else completely.”

  “Christ!” I spat out in disgust. “Does everyone think they saw something that doesn’t exist?”

  First Torie, and now Wyatt?

  “Oh, it was there,” he corrected. “I think it was you who didn’t see it. I doubt everyone noticed. Just the people who know you. It’s been a long time since you’ve looked at a woman like you wished that the two of you were alone and naked.”

  “She’s attractive,” I muttered. “I noticed it at Torie’s wedding. End of story.”

  “And?” Wyatt prompted.

  “She’s intelligent,” I added reluctantly. “She’s always been fun to argue with in a friendly debate sort of way.”

  Wyatt didn’t speak. He just shot me an expectant look.

  Shit! I hated the way that my older brother could make me talk without saying a word. “Okay, dammit!” I said gruffly. “I wish we were there already. I hate the thought of anyone hurting Vanna. Yes, I lost my mind momentarily when the two of us where alone together after Torie’s wedding. I asked her out. She turned me down flat. That was the end of it. But that doesn’t mean I don’t still consider her a…family friend.”

  “Bullshit,” Wyatt grumbled.

  I glared at him. “What does that mean?”

  I was getting sick and tired of asking him that question.

  “A guy doesn’t just stop being attracted to a woman because she turns him down. And if I’m not mistaken, that interest went both ways,” Wyatt answered.

  I suddenly hated the way Wyatt could appear disinterested, but really noticed every fucking detail of his surroundings.

  “It didn’t go both ways. Take my word on that,” I answered irritably. “Just drop it, Wyatt. She’s an important rescue because she means so much to Torie.”

  Fuck knew that Savannah had made it crystal clear that she couldn’t wait to leave after I’d asked her out that day.

  It was obvious that I’d made her uncomfortable.

  She’d probably known that my dick was hard and it had sent her running for the door.

  “I still think you’re full of shit,” Wyatt drawled. “But if you don’t want to talk about it, I’ll let it go…for now. We need to stay focused on the rescue part of this situation right now.”

  Hell, I didn’t want to talk about this whole thing later, either.

  “It was nothing anyway,” I said hoarsely. “Just a very brief period of temporary insanity. I’m over it.”

  “When was the last time you had one of those?”

  I thought about Wyatt’s question before I hedged, “None of them come to mind right now.”

  “Exactly,” he replied quietly. “Now, let’s focus on this operation.”

  I sent him an irritated glance before I looked back at the file we were both studying.

  It wasn’t like Wyatt had any reason to be giving advice on relationships. I couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone out on a date or shown any real interest in anyone other than family or friends.

  For the most part, we were both workaholics who had been trying to prove that we’d been worthy of inheriting our father’s massive empire.

  Last Hope took up whatever time we had available outside of Durand Industries.

  Now that we’d finally relocated most of our headquarters back to San Diego from Paris, we’d probably have more spare time. I just wasn’t sure if either one of us would have the inclination to spend less time on business.

  After all, I had a very good reason to avoid relationships, which was something I’d temporarily forgotten about when I’d followed that impulse to ask Savannah out.

  Wyatt, however, really didn’t. Or if he did, I certainly didn’t know about it. He was just adamant about maintaining his status as one of the most eligible bachelors in the world. Not that I thought he wanted that title. Mostly, he just wanted to be left alone.

  “There’s nothing major here that I don’t already know,” I said as I put the papers back in order.

  “I never knew that she was dating Bradley Warner,” Wyatt mused. “The bastard made her public life miserable, and her face even more recognizable, unfortunately. Maybe that’s why she’s just not ready to try going out with another high profile guy. Can’t say that I blame her.”

  “I knew she was dating an A-lister. I just didn’t know who it was until I read the paperwork,” I informed him, hoping he’d go in another direction. The last thing I wanted to think about was Savannah’s sex life.

  Warner was a total prick, an action movie star who probably looked good on screen, but had shit for brains and zero motivation to help anyone but himself in real life.

  “It wouldn’t make sense for the kidnappers to kill her,” Wyatt said thoughtfully as he shuffled through the papers. “They’re supposedly trying to form their own criminal gang. They need funds.”

  “What happens if the heat gets to be too much for them and they can’t sell her?” I asked. “She’s high profile, and her captors are idiots. Who’s to say that they won’t want to kill her if they can’t find a private buyer?”

  My gut reacted negatively to the thought of finding Savannah dead, but I fought against even considering that option.

  While it was also a possibility that she’d be sold off and moved before we could reach her, I tried not to think about that, either.

  No matter where they took her, I’d fucking find her.

  “Doubtful,” Wyatt answered. “I doubt they’re feeling much heat in the Colombian portion of the Darien jungle. Not to mention the fact that she’s their only prize at the moment. Drugs are plentiful there, but they need connections to sell them. Hell, if they had any of those connections already, she’d be gone to who-knows-where by now. In some ways, I guess we’re lucky she was kidnapped by morons.”