more."
She could see it now, a great, nearly vertical chasm of moss-covered black rock that split the mountain in two. "Oh my God," she whispered, her voice lost in the violent booming rush of the river far, far below.
"Don't tell me," said the hateful man beside her, his smile broadening as he studied her face. "Miss Indomitable McKnight is afraid of swinging bridges."
"I can't cross that thing," she said, her voice tight, her gaze fixed on the bridge of knotted vines and rusting wire and primitive, hand-hewn planks that dangled over an ominously thundering void. "I can't." Her step faltered, her head shaking slowly back and forth.
He threw a quick glance over his shoulder, his mouth tightening into a hard grin. "It's either the bridge, or the cannibals. Take your choice."
She was close enough now to see the zigzag of slippery, nearly vertical moss-covered stone steps that snaked down the side of the cliff, toward the raging river far below. Cut directly into the rock face, they were primitive and dangerous and yet, somehow, still preferable to the creaking, rotting bridge that swung sickeningly with every buffet of the wind. "There are steps," she said, just as a shout went up from behind them, followed by another.
"Shit. They've seen us." Jack Ryder's hand closed hard on her arm, jerking her forward. "We don't have time for the bloody steps. Run. Now."
Chapter Eleven
Jack took the bridge at a rush, hoping to get India McKnight across it before she lost her nerve—or caught sight of who was really behind them. But they'd only made it something like three feet out onto the bridge's slippery, swaying planks before she balked, her hands closing convulsively over the vine-wrapped sides of the bridge, her face going pale and slightly greenish.
"Don't look down!" he shouted when she let out a low moan, her eyes widening as she stared at the tumbling, rocky torrent of frothing white water far below. "And don't look back, either," he added when she twisted her head to glance at the exposed, windswept rocks of the mountain behind them. "Just give me your hand and we'll get over it together. Now, damn it," he added, his voice sharpening as first one man, then another appeared up the main trail from Futapu Bay. "They're coming."
He expected to have to pry one of her hands loose from the bridge, but she reached out to him, her gaze lifting to meet his. Her eyes were dilated wide with fear, her breath coming in jerky gasps. He took her hand in a fierce grip, and urged her forward. "Easy now," he murmured, as if coaxing a nervous horse. "Just hold my hand and put one foot in front of the other."
With each step, the wires jerked in all directions, so that it was like trying to walk on the thrashing tail of a giant crocodile, but she didn't scream. She was not the kind of woman who would ever scream, he thought with an unexpected and unwanted surge of admiration as he watched the way her square jaw tightened with determination, her thin nostrils flaring with each intake of breath. She was one hell of a woman. Aggravating and cranky and opinionated as all get-out, but with enough guts to put ten men to shame.
They were still a couple of yards from the end of the bridge when Simon's voice reached them, barely audible above the roar of the river far below. "Hold your fire, men! He has Miss McKnight with him."
"What?" she said, her face going slack as she started to twist around.
Tightening his hold on her hand, Jack jerked her onto solid ground with a force that sent her flying past him, so that she lost her footing and went down on her hands and knees in the trail. Yanking his machete free, he was about to bring the blade down on one of the main bridge supports when she scrambled to her feet and threw herself against him.
"You told me it was cannibals!" She hit him hard enough that he staggered, his breath coming out in a startled oomph. "You filthy, lying beast."
Wrapping his left arm around her waist, Jack swung India
She could see it now, a great, nearly vertical chasm of moss-covered black rock that split the mountain in two. "Oh my God," she whispered, her voice lost in the violent booming rush of the river far, far below.
"Don't tell me," said the hateful man beside her, his smile broadening as he studied her face. "Miss Indomitable McKnight is afraid of swinging bridges."
"I can't cross that thing," she said, her voice tight, her gaze fixed on the bridge of knotted vines and rusting wire and primitive, hand-hewn planks that dangled over an ominously thundering void. "I can't." Her step faltered, her head shaking slowly back and forth.
He threw a quick glance over his shoulder, his mouth tightening into a hard grin. "It's either the bridge, or the cannibals. Take your choice."
She was close enough now to see the zigzag of slippery, nearly vertical moss-covered stone steps that snaked down the side of the cliff, toward the raging river far below. Cut directly into the rock face, they were primitive and dangerous and yet, somehow, still preferable to the creaking, rotting bridge that swung sickeningly with every buffet of the wind. "There are steps," she said, just as a shout went up from behind them, followed by another.
"Shit. They've seen us." Jack Ryder's hand closed hard on her arm, jerking her forward. "We don't have time for the bloody steps. Run. Now."
Chapter Eleven
Jack took the bridge at a rush, hoping to get India McKnight across it before she lost her nerve—or caught sight of who was really behind them. But they'd only made it something like three feet out onto the bridge's slippery, swaying planks before she balked, her hands closing convulsively over the vine-wrapped sides of the bridge, her face going pale and slightly greenish.
"Don't look down!" he shouted when she let out a low moan, her eyes widening as she stared at the tumbling, rocky torrent of frothing white water far below. "And don't look back, either," he added when she twisted her head to glance at the exposed, windswept rocks of the mountain behind them. "Just give me your hand and we'll get over it together. Now, damn it," he added, his voice sharpening as first one man, then another appeared up the main trail from Futapu Bay. "They're coming."
He expected to have to pry one of her hands loose from the bridge, but she reached out to him, her gaze lifting to meet his. Her eyes were dilated wide with fear, her breath coming in jerky gasps. He took her hand in a fierce grip, and urged her forward. "Easy now," he murmured, as if coaxing a nervous horse. "Just hold my hand and put one foot in front of the other."
With each step, the wires jerked in all directions, so that it was like trying to walk on the thrashing tail of a giant crocodile, but she didn't scream. She was not the kind of woman who would ever scream, he thought with an unexpected and unwanted surge of admiration as he watched the way her square jaw tightened with determination, her thin nostrils flaring with each intake of breath. She was one hell of a woman. Aggravating and cranky and opinionated as all get-out, but with enough guts to put ten men to shame.
They were still a couple of yards from the end of the bridge when Simon's voice reached them, barely audible above the roar of the river far below. "Hold your fire, men! He has Miss McKnight with him."
"What?" she said, her face going slack as she started to twist around.
Tightening his hold on her hand, Jack jerked her onto solid ground with a force that sent her flying past him, so that she lost her footing and went down on her hands and knees in the trail. Yanking his machete free, he was about to bring the blade down on one of the main bridge supports when she scrambled to her feet and threw herself against him.
"You told me it was cannibals!" She hit him hard enough that he staggered, his breath coming out in a startled oomph. "You filthy, lying beast."
Wrapping his left arm around her waist, Jack swung India
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