Sherry followed relentlessly, stumbling quite regularly, several times to her seat. Twice she lost Casius and was forced to call out. Each time Petrus ran into her and muttered apologies. When it happened, the man had been no more than five yards from them. If he made more noise, it would have been much easier, but he seemed to glide like a ghost. Tracking both him and the ground proved nearly impossible.

She explained the problem to him defensively the second time. He stared at her through the dark for a few seconds, as if trying to comprehend. Then he turned and continued, but this time awkwardly brushing his hands against the foliage to make some noise as he passed. That helped her. But then the rain came, and what had seemed nearly impossible became downright ridiculous.

Sherry let the tears come to her eyes again, wiping constantly to clear her vision. But she would not let the man hear her silent sobs as she pushed on.

Oh, God, please let me wake up.

THE JOURNEY had been an easy one until the rains began. And even that wouldn’t have been such a problem if it hadn’t come as they began a sharp descent into a valley. The dark, steep jungle, now wet, proved to be the limit. Their pace slowed to a crawl. Casius stopped frequently and waited for the woman to catch up, slipping and sliding her way down the mountain.

He pitied her, after a fashion. Poor woman had come to the jungle probably thrilled to visit, and now she had been thrust into this impossible world. And led by him of all people. He was no ladies’ man. If she didn’t already know it, she would soon enough.

Her strength surprised him. She might not have developed the skills to navigate through the foliage with ease, but she had the will of a jaguar.

Midpoint down the descent, Casius admitted bitterly that reaching the plantation before dawn would not be possible with the two. Fortunately, the rain would wash most of their tracks away, which was good considering the jungle would certainly be searched at first light. The attack had been no random pillaging. On his own he would press on, night or day, search or no search. But not with this woman and priest crashing through the brush behind him. They would be spotted from the sky, smashing into trees and shaking their limbs.

Which meant they would have to hide out during the day. With a woman. And a priest.

“All right, mister,” the woman suddenly snapped through the darkness. “This is too much. We’re cut, we’re bruised, and we’re exhausted. Will you stop for just a minute and let me rest?”