No Place To Hide. Lisa Harris

ensure no one saw them. But as much as she’d wanted to catch up with him, she’d been too exhausted emotionally to be very sociable. By nine, she’d fallen into a restless sleep filled with nightmares of someone chasing her through the Amazon rain forest.

      She yawned, then glanced at her phone for the umpteenth time, stood up and started pacing the VIP departure lounge. Her determination to follow through with their plan wavered. Maybe Ryan and his father had been right, and they should have taken last night’s flight back to the United States. She had no experience in tracking down a killer. Which was why she should leave the investigation to the authorities and trust that they would find out the truth as to who had killed her father. Just like the legal process would—at some point—put them in prison, where they belonged. All she was doing now was risking the lives of both Dr. Reynolds and Ryan.

      “Ellie...what’s wrong?”

      She glanced at her phone again, the familiar worry gnawing at her gut. “I’m hoping nothing, but I still haven’t heard from Dr. Reynolds. I texted him this new number. He was supposed to send me a signal when he arrived this morning so I knew he was okay.”

      “I wouldn’t worry. Things run slower in this part of the world and never keep to a schedule. Which means there could be any number of explanations. The boat he’s on could have broken down, he might simply be running late—”

      “Or they could have gotten to him.” She turned around and faced Ryan, his casual answer doing little to reassure her. “I’m sorry, but I’m the one who dragged him into this mess and if anything happens to him...”

      Ryan leaned forward and rested his forearms against his thighs. “From what you’ve already told me, the doctor made his own decision to gather information against the cartel, which means I’d say he did a pretty good job of dragging himself into this situation on his own.”

      “I know. But while I’m not the only person affected by Arias, this has become personal. I need to find a way to put an end to it.” She sat back down next to him. “My father’s dead, my aunt thought I was dead, too, and all my friends and the people I worked with think I died in that fire. I just want this all to be over.”

      “That’s why we’re going,” he said, catching her gaze. “It will be. Soon. I promise.”

      “The two of you ready to go?” The pilot she’d hired stepped into the room, interrupting their conversation.

      She nodded at the balding man in his early fifties, praying that the trip that had eaten up most of her savings would be worth it. Ryan grabbed his small backpack and walked with her toward the plane as she shoved aside any second thoughts. If it meant bringing her father’s murderer to justice, she could do this.

      Fifteen minutes later, while the small craft was heading north above the city, Ellie stared out the window. The blue-green ocean was to the right, running along Rio’s skyline surrounded by the mountain chain that ran along the coast of South America. She loved flying. Loved the feeling of climbing to altitude, then soaring across the miniature images below.

      It was almost enough to make her temporarily forget where they were going and why. She took in a slow, deep breath, and for the first time in weeks she felt her muscles begin to relax. Maybe it was simply the calm before the storm, but even if that was all it was, it was a moment she intended to hold on to for as long as she could. In another four hours or so, they’d be on the ground, and she’d have to deal again with the reality of her situation and how someone wanted her dead.

      She glanced at Ryan with those striking blue eyes of his. He sat beside her, mouth tight, hands clasped tightly in his lap. Her brow furrowed. She would never have pegged him for someone with a phobia of flying.

      “Not much of a flyer?” she asked.

      “I don’t mind flying, actually. I just hate the takeoffs and landings,” he said, opening his eyes and shooting her a grin. “I know it doesn’t make sense, but I’ve always preferred to be under the water, for some reason, than thousands of feet above it.”

      She chuckled, enjoying talking with him after the awkwardness of yesterday seemed to have passed. “Your father mentioned you used to be a diver for the navy. That sounds a lot more frightening—and more dangerous—than flying.”

      “I left the navy after about a decade and now work as a saturation diver.”

      “Your father told me that’s what you’re doing now, but he didn’t really explain what the job was.”

      “I work for oil companies using a saturation system. We live in a pressurized chamber for up to a month, then are transported to the underwater work area every day in a closed bell.”

      “A closed bell?” She felt a shiver slide through her. “So you live and work under constant pressure?”

      “It allows more work to be done efficiently without worrying about decompression stops.”

      She shook her head. “I’m sorry, but that definitely sounds terrifying.”

      He shot her a smile. “It’s intense work, but the old Jacques Cousteau documentaries always fascinated me as a kid. Whenever we were on holiday, I would be out spearfishing or snorkeling. I was always in the sea and always wanted to be a diver. Back then I just had no idea I could make money doing it.”

      She let out another soft laugh. At least he was human with at least one irrational fear. And there was another thing she was pretty certain about as well. His presence was one of the reasons she hadn’t completely fallen apart. Over the past three months she’d had to deal with not only the death of her father, but also the complete upheaval of her life. And while she’d made friends here in Brazil, she hadn’t been able to tell them the real reason she was here. Regular check-ins with Ryan’s father had helped, but he was five thousand miles away.

      “I thought my father told me you were married,” she said as the plane leveled off and his hands began to relax in his lap. No ring had made her assume otherwise.

      “Married? No.” His brow rose slightly at the question. “That would be my sister. She got married right out of college and now has three little girls.”

      “So you never found Ms. Right?” She’d asked the question as a simple conversation starter, but from the look on his face, she’d just wandered into forbidden territory. “I’m sorry if that was too personal.”

      “I was engaged. Once.” He stared past her out the window.

       Yeah...definitely too personal.

      Though honestly, she couldn’t imagine marrying someone with such a risky job, who was gone for weeks at a time. More than likely his ex had decided to find someone with a more...normal day job.

      “What about you?” he asked, shifting the subject. “Any Mr. Right in your life?”

      “No, though I was almost engaged once.”

      Ellie frowned. That is if you could call wishful thinking almost engaged. The night she’d expected Lance to propose, he’d broken up with her. And to make it worse, he’d ended up marrying one of her best friends.

      She stared back out the window, wondering how she’d allowed their conversation to become so personal. Maybe it was simply having to adjust to the lack of contact with any other Americans over the past few months that had allowed her to let down her guard now. But just because she was lonely didn’t mean she was ready to open up her heart.

      * * *

      Ryan settled back in his chair as their pilot leveled out the small plane, leaving the city behind them. Despite her personal questions, he hadn’t failed to notice how guarded she seemed. Though he couldn’t really blame her. She’d been in hiding for the past three months, without being able to communicate with anyone she cared about.

      As for himself, this was already probably the most amount of time he’d spent around a woman for, well...for a very long time. His father was constantly trying to nudge him back