Take No Prisoners. Gayle Wilson

with the horses charging through the camp, flattening everything in their path. There was another wild volley of shots, but he didn’t look back, aware that because of her position behind him, Grace was exposed and highly vulnerable.

      Aware also that at the other side of the plateau was that treacherous trail, part of which he’d explored last night. Steep and rugged, it was dangerous in daylight. To traverse it in the darkness, riding a horse that was on the edge of panic, would be near suicidal.

      Near was the operative word, he decided, feeling Grace’s arms tighten around his waist. There was no limiting adjective involved in what would happen if they turned back now.

      “Hold on,” he said unnecessarily, giving the bay his head as the horse began the plunge down the mountainside.

      Chapter Four

      By necessity Grace’s fingers were locked in the coarse fabric of the long vest Landon wore over his tunic. She lowered her head, pressing her cheek against his spine as she held on for dear life.

      Since Landon had shown up, a hundred emotions had bombarded her, coming at her so rapidly that she was almost overwhelmed. Right now fear was primary, of course. Concern for Colonel Stern. Rage and grief over Mitchell’s senseless and tragic death.

      She was also aware of a strange sense of self-betrayal. During the long days of their captivity, she had come to terms with the possibility that she would die.

      After her talk with Mitchell last night, she had also reconciled herself to idea that it was too late to change anything about the way she had lived her life to this point, even if she wanted to. Although she had determined she would fight to her last breath to stay alive, she had reached a necessary inner peace about whatever fate had in store for her.

      Until tonight. Until Landon James had unexpectedly taken a hand in the game. And, she admitted, until her body had once more come into intimate contact with the hard, unyielding muscles of the only man she’d ever loved.

      She had been aware that Landon was no longer employed by the Agency. She had also known—only because she had finally broken down and asked Griff—that he wasn’t working for the Phoenix. The latest information Griff had had was that he was operating as an independent security consultant, primarily for companies forced to operate in the world’s hot spots.

      Now, surprisingly, he was back in Afghanistan, trying to engineer a rescue of her and Stern. And unless the State Department was footing the bill, she couldn’t imagine why he would be.

      “Hang on,” he said again, throwing the words over his shoulder.

      As if she could do anything else, she had time to think, before she was literally forced to obey. The bay, which had been galloping at a breakneck speed down the trail, suddenly veered sharply to the left, allowing the horses behind him to sweep by on the right.

      She turned her head in time to see one of them lose its footing on the treacherous trail. Stones ricocheted down the sheer rock face of the mountain, taking the floundering animal with them. Its scream as it fell echoed off the cliffs and ridges.

      The bay, sides heaving, was slowly being forced to a stop. Tired, and its initial panic spent, the trembling animal gradually obeyed the hand on its reins. Landon guided the horse against the wall on their left at a point where the trail widened slightly, holding the exhausted animal there almost by force of will as the rest of the herd roared by.

      Although Grace tried to peer through the darkness as the horses passed, she saw no sign of a rider on any of them. As the last stragglers came down the trail, Landon began to dismount.

      Startled, she automatically tried to hold on to him, but he swung his right leg over the horse’s neck and slid out of the saddle. As soon as he was on the ground, he held up his arms to her, indicating that she should dismount, as well.

      Except this made no sense. They had had the advantage. They were on horseback, while their pursuers were on foot.

      All they had to do to be safe was ride into the valley below. Landon himself had told her there were people looking for them there, so why in the world—

      “Get down,” he urged as she hesitated.

      “What are you doing?”

      “Trying to get you out of this mess, but I swear I’m beginning to believe you like the lifestyle. Get off the damn horse, Grace, before I pull you off.”

      He took a step forward, preparing to put his hands around her waist. She knew he would do what he’d threatened, no matter how much she protested. He was ruthless enough to manhandle her if he believed it was necessary.

      In an attempt to keep him from touching her, she slipped her foot into the stirrup and swung down from the saddle. As soon as she hit the ground, he reached around her and slapped the bay on the rump, just as he had done earlier to her mare.

      As the animal skittered nervously forward, Landon hit it again, sending it down the trail with a couple of others who were bringing up the rear of the stampede. As the horses clattered away, Grace could hear shouts coming from the direction of the camp.

      A pursuit was being organized. Some of her former captors might even be mounted by now, if they’d been able to catch the stragglers from the string Landon had freed.

      He grabbed her hand, pulling her along the sheer rock wall that rose high above their heads, blocking the stars. They’d gone less than twenty feet when Landon ducked, dragging her down with him.

      Her first thought was that he’d heard someone behind them. Then she realized he was guiding her through the entrance of another of the natural caves that dotted these mountains.

      This one, in contrast to the spacious cavern where she’d been held prisoner, was small, its entrance low and narrow. Once they’d squeezed inside it, she realized how very little room there was. Landon immediately pushed her against the stone wall and then pressed his body over hers, shushing her attempted protest.

      “Listen,” he hissed into her ear.

      For several long heartbeats she obeyed, not daring to breathe as their pursuers came nearer and nearer. And she’d been right about the horses. At least some had been caught. Their riders shouted questions and directions to one another as they bolted past the narrow entrance that concealed their hiding place.

      Despite the danger of having her captors only a few feet away, Grace was conscious of Landon’s body pressed against hers. She tried to put his nearness out of her mind, thinking instead about what might have happened to Colonel Stern.

      He had probably been recaptured before he could get out of the camp. After all, if it hadn’t been for Landon’s intervention, she, too, would have been retaken once she was surrounded.

      As hard as it was for her to believe, considering the terms on which they’d parted, his principle concern had seemed to be getting her out rather than mounting a rescue operation that would include all of them. That wasn’t enough for her, however.

      “What about Stern?”

      Despite the softness of her whisper, Landon’s “Shh” was as clearly a command as any he’d given out on the trail. She obeyed, but only because she understood that if they were retaken, there would be no hope for the other American. If they managed to escape, they could eventually get help and come back for Stern.

      After several minutes without any sound from beyond the entrance to the cave, she put her hands flat on Landon’s chest and pushed. He leaned back, increasing the space between their torsos slightly, but he refused to release her, his hips still pressed intimately against hers.

      “They’re gone,” she whispered.

      “They’ll be back.”

      “Until they are…” she suggested, increasing the pressure against his chest.

      The darkness inside the cave was almost total. She couldn’t see Landon’s face, much less read his expression. All she knew was that he hadn’t