Chapter 15
She woke with a start, pressing a hand to her wet cheek.
It was raining. Little droplets pelted the leaves overhead and slipped between the branches, landing on her upturned face. Ian continued to snore beside her, eyes closed. His chest rose and fell with steady breaths. She stayed snuggled up next to him, relishing the warmth of his embrace. The rain was gentle enough to ignore, and there was no place she’d rather be.
The irritation she’d felt with him earlier had faded. She blamed her reaction on lack of sleep and overabundance of hormones. She’d been on an emotional roller coaster the past few days. One moment she was fighting tears, trembling with unease. The next she was ogling Ian’s hard body, fresh from the shower. He’d seemed aware of her mood change after she’d showered. Instead of keeping his eyes politely averted, he’d stared at her exposed flesh. Worse, he hadn’t bothered to cover his own. He’d stepped out of the stall dripping wet, penis dangling.
Dios mío. Her pulse raced just thinking about it.
Even with a towel wrapped around his waist, she could see the size and shape of his male parts. It was difficult to ignore that area when she was on her knees before him. The damp towel clung to his organ, outlining the tip. After he put on his pants, her focus shifted to his torso. His broad shoulders, biceps flexing as he brushed his teeth. She knew he’d noticed her preoccupation with his lean physique. He’d rubbed it in by waltzing around shirtless.
She hadn’t known whether to slap him again or jump on him.
Thunder rumbled in the distance, threatening heavier rain. She sat up to study the dark clouds on the horizon. Then she spotted a caravan of army vehicles on the dirt road leading to the camp. “Ian,” she said, grasping his arm. “Wake up.”
“What is it?” he mumbled.
“La migra.”
He bolted upright and rubbed his eyes. “Fuck,” he said, glancing from the road to the thick copse of trees behind them. “Get ready to run.”
She folded the tarp with shaking hands and shoved it into her tote bag. Within seconds, the immigration police had entered the little valley. One of the vehicles screeched to a stop and uniformed men piled out, wielding clubs.
“Que Dios los bendiga,”she whispered.
An officer swung his club at the first man in his path. The man fell onto the wet ground, blood trickling from his mouth.
“God isn’t here,” Ian said. “Go now, before they see us.”
“What are you going to do?”
He drew the gun from his holster. “Cover you.”
She bit the edge of her fist as the mayhem below continued. The other vehicles formed a circle around the camp. Two heavily armed men guarded the boundaries, shouting orders, while their companions rounded up the passengers. They appeared to be taking everyone in the vicinity. Maria said another prayer, this time for Sarai. If the girl hadn’t found a good hiding place, she’d be captured—and there was nothing they could do about it. Ian couldn’t defeat a dozen men.
So Maria ducked her head and ran.
She almost slipped on the grass as she set off. For a few seconds, she was completely exposed. Her heart thundered in her chest, threatening to burst. No gunfire peppered the hilltop as she sprinted over it. Then she was running down the opposite side, toward the safety of the trees.
At the base of the slope, she lost her footing, tumbling like the circus performers she’d so admired. Sharp pebbles bit into her knees and elbows as she landed. There was no time to catch her breath. She scrambled upright and raced into the lush greenery.
Once there, she rested against a large tree and waited for Ian. He wasn’t as lucky with his escape. Shots rang out as he flew over the hill. She smothered a scream of terror, watching the scene unfold. He dropped and rolled on purpose at the top of the slope. In the next breath, he was on his feet again. He didn’t lose his balance on the way down, by some miracle. Even with a pronounced limp, he was swift and sure-footed. He didn’t appear to have been hit.
“Go,” he said when he reached her. “Run until they fire again. Then get flat on the ground.”
She didn’t ask questions. She kept moving, deeper into the trees. Just as he’d predicted, gunshots erupted. Bullets ripped through the forest and struck the branches, dangerously close. With a yelp of panic, she hit the dirt. She covered her head with her arms while Ian returned fire. She could hear the loud pop of his handgun. Although it was no match to their rifles, maybe it would deter the officers from advancing down the hillside.
He caught up with her a moment later. “Come on,” he said, lifting her to her feet. “That won’t hold them off for long.”
She ran as fast as she could through the thick vegetation. Thorns snagged her arms and switches whipped across her face. It continued to rain, and that was probably what saved them. Visibility was limited in the deluge. They both took a number of spills. She was soaked to the skin, breathing hard, when he slowed down and holstered his weapon.
“Are they gone?” she asked.
“I don’t know. We have to keep moving.”
She nodded, trudging forward. They walked for several miles, until daylight faded. The temperature dropped and the storm raged on. She used the tarp to cover her shoulders and head, but it didn’t do much good. She was already wet.
Darkness closed in and she began to pray for shelter. They stumbled upon a fence made from hand-hewn wooden posts, and followed it into the night. Soon they came to a clearing with a small barn. Though uninhabited, the barn wasn’t lacking basic amenities. There was a battery-operated lantern hanging on a hook inside. A wool blanket lay folded on a haystack. Perhaps the space was used seasonally, or only as a resting place for cattlemen.
