Lisa Harris - No Place To Hide

The back window of the car to their right shattered. Ryan swerved to miss hitting the car as it fishtailed, and almost ran into a single-cab truck before the car hit the center barrier, then skidded to a stop behind them.

But there was no way they could stop. The armed motorcyclist had just made his intentions perfectly clear.

“Hold on.” Ryan pressed on the accelerator, praying as he worked to stretch out the gap between them. “We need to lose him.”

“There’s a split in the highway up ahead,” she shouted. “A mile, maybe two. We might be able to lose him.”

“Which direction should I go?”

“To the left. The other way veers off into a sharp curve.”

It wasn’t a foolproof plan, but it was going to have to work. He continued to increase his speed, dodging in front of cars as he tried to widen the distance between them, but the other motorcycle still managed to keep up with them.

If he took a shot at them again...

A minute later, they passed a sign, signaling the upcoming split. Two kilometers, or roughly one mile. Traffic was fairly heavy, but he maneuvered through the lanes, keeping primarily to the right, as if he was planning to exit. He kept his eyes on his mirrors. He’d raced motorcycles all through high school and college and had been good at it. His father had been the one who’d taught him everything, from running tighter lines, to how to use the brakes, to ensuring he understood every minute detail of how a bike ran. And that attention to detail had translated into winning more races.

But this was different. Back then he hadn’t been riding with someone holding on to him he was supposed to protect with a shooter closing in.

He passed another sign as he weaved through traffic, then went back into the right lane. Another half mile to the split. He held his position, waiting until the last minute, then swerved to the left, barely making the turn.

The other bike tried to follow, but by the time he realized what they’d done, it was too late. The driver swerved to the left, overcompensating, then slid across several lanes of traffic before disappearing from view.

They road in silence for another thirty minutes, until he was certain they weren’t being followed. He turned onto an avenue running parallel to the Atlantic Ocean, then found a place to park the bike. With dozens of tourists and locals enjoying the warm October sunshine along the white, sandy shoreline, they would be safe here for the moment.

He helped Ellie off the bike, then pulled off his helmet, his hands shaking as he set it on the seat. If his hands were shaking, he could only imagine what she was feeling. Not only had they just survived a near fatal accident, but this entire situation was also intensely personal for her. She’d lost her father, and now, once again, almost her life.

She pulled off her helmet, then caught his gaze. “Thanks for the rescue, but what are you doing in Rio?”

He hesitated at her question. “I was working off the coast, and my father sent me to check on you. Said that the last time you spoke to him you’d sounded upset. He wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I guess my paranoia that the cartel would find me wasn’t that far off.” Her eyes watered as she blew out a sharp breath. “My aunt called right before you showed up. Warned me that Arias’s men had found me.”

He shook his head. “Wait a minute... No one is supposed to even know you’re alive, and yet we just got shot at and almost run off the road, and now you’re telling me that your aunt knows where you are as well.”

“She’s been looking for me.”

Her watery eyes turned into full-blown tears, and he had no idea how to react to her crying. Hugging her seemed too intimate, and yet he didn’t want to just ignore what she was feeling. The last time he’d seen her, she’d been fourteen or fifteen. They used to spend summers at his father’s Colorado ranch, until her family moved to Dallas. And now his father had sent him to do a simple extraction, but he had a feeling this was going to turn out to be a bit more complicated.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I will be.” She wiped her cheek with the back of her hand, clearly trying to gain back her composure. “I’m sorry. Except for the night my father was murdered, I don’t think I’ve ever been so terrified.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about, but we need to get you out of the country,” he said. “My father’s already booked two seats on a direct flight to the States for tonight in case I felt we needed to leave immediately, which clearly we do.”

He focused his attention on her but continued to stay fully aware of the scene around him. He couldn’t assume anything when it came to their safety. Not after what he’d just witnessed.

“Ellie...”

She stared out across the stunning blue water lined with countless kiosks and beachgoers a few seconds longer before looking up at him. “I’m sorry, but I can’t leave.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked. “We were almost killed a few minutes ago.”

Surely he’d misunderstood her.

“I have information on the man behind my father’s death,” she said. “Proof that could finally lead to his arrest and conviction.”

“What kind of proof?” he asked, unsure he liked the direction of the conversation. She couldn’t be planning to play detective and try to solve her father’s murder herself. He’d agreed to escort her home. Not follow up on some clue she thought she’d come up with. That he planned to leave to the authorities.

“I made contact with a doctor who works in the north of Brazil along the Amazon River,” she said quickly. “He has evidence he’s been afraid to take to the authorities, but he’s agreed to meet with me.”

“Wait a minute...so you’re planning to go to the Amazon?”

“I’ve already booked a private flight that leaves in the morning.”

Ryan frowned. A simple extraction, in and out, didn’t include a stop in the Amazon.

“I’m sorry, but you can’t—”

“If they can find me here in Brazil,” she said, catching his gaze, “what’s to stop them from finding me back in the US, where they have even more resources? Which means I won’t be able to quit running until the men behind my father’s death are in prison.”

Ryan shook his head. “I agreed to take you back to the US, not off on some wild-goose chase down the Amazon.”

“That’s fine, because I’m not asking you to go with me.” She let out a sharp breath. “Have you ever lost someone you loved?”

Ryan’s muscles stiffened at the question. “Yes, but—”

“Then you have to understand that not only do I need closure to my father’s death, I need the men who killed him to pay for what they did. And if I ever want to stop running, I have to make sure they’re caught.”

“And some...doctor in the Amazon is your best lead? How does that play in to your father’s murder?”

“Let’s just say that even cartel leaders and drug lords need medical care.”

“And this doctor you tracked down knows the man you believe is behind your father’s death and has some kind of information you believe might help solve his case?”

“Exactly.”

“Which could put his life in danger as well.”

“I know, but we’ve been very careful,” she said. “He works one week a month at a second clinic about two hours upriver of where he lives. He’s agreed to meet me there. No one will suspect anything.”

“Forget it. It’s way too dangerous, and I promised my father I’d get you out of here.” Ryan glanced down the wide boulevard that ran parallel to the ocean and was lined with hotels, restaurants and bars. How was he supposed to convince her to leave? “Listen. I’m not a chauvinist, but a woman on her own, traveling down the Amazon, is probably not the best idea. Especially when the cartel is looking for you.”