Just a Kiss Away by Jill Barnett Page B

“Rock of Ages” had been the worst. The woman had sung it every time the ship lurched.
    But seasickness would be worth it to get out of here, worth it to finally see her daddy. He was gonna save her. She smiled and looked up. Colonel Luna had that look again, and her smile faded. He walked toward her, never breaking his stare. She could feel Sam tense. Luna stood in front of her and reached out, running his finger down her cheek and under her chin. He tilted her face up. She wanted to close her eyes, but forced them open. The tension in the hut almost crackled.
    “Too bad.” Luna said, finally breaking eye contact. He turned on a bootheel, eyeing Sam, who suddenly looked as laggard as an old hound dog. “Care to change sides, amigo? Both Aguinaldo and your Bonifacio want the same thing—independence.”
    Sam smiled at him, and she knew instantly that she never wanted to be the recipient of that smile. It was predatory; it was calculating; it was lethal.
    “It’s not the goal I question, Luna. Aguinaldo or Bonifacio, it makes no difference to me.” His words just hung there.
    Luna’s expression changed, and some of his threatening air disappeared. “Ah, a wise choice. A man like myself—”
    “Hardly a wise choice.” Sam cut him off, suddenly looking like a spider with a fly. “It’s not Aguinaldo’s goal I question. It’s his choice of officers I find . . . lacking.”
    Luna’s face flamed purple. His eyes narrowed. “Take him,” he ordered, then walked outside.
    “No!” Lollie screamed, grabbing onto one of the guards. He shook her off. She fell back, her bound feet making her lose her balance. She scrambled upright. “Please. He’s an American citizen!”
    The guards ignored her and yanked Sam through the door. Before it shut she caught one last glimpse of Sam’s face. It was perfectly blank.

Chapter 7
     
    Sam stood just inside the hut, his gaze locked on the opposite wall. It took every ounce of will to keep his burning shoulders back. He didn’t breathe, just concentrated on that blurred wall and waited for the guards to slam the door. It took them an agonizing century.
    A gasp sounded from somewhere on his left. “What have they all done to you?”
    He didn’t answer her. He knew that if he opened his mouth to speak nothing would come out but the groans he tried so hard to suppress.
    The door shut, the hut darkened, and Sam’s knees gave way.
    He laid face down on the ground, his ribs bruised and aching from being kicked, his left leg numb with pain from the times Luna’s boot had missed his ribs. His hands and fingers were so swollen from torture that the binding around his wrists felt like a vise.
    For the life of him he couldn’t move a bare inch. He was tired, so tired, and yet he fought the urge to sleep. He needed to know he still had control of his body. Complete control. It was an exercise of will. One he couldn’t afford to neglect. Too many times in the past his control had kept him alive.
    Somewhere to the left he could hear her shuffling across the hut. She stood there for a long moment. Then he felt her tentative touch on his upper arm. He turned his head slightly and winced from a jab of pain.
    He wanted to open his eye but it took too damn much effort. He had none left after the hours of beating. But Luna still knew nothing. Sam hadn’t revealed his real source for purchasing the dynamite guns or the rifles. He’d given Luna a phony name of an arms supplier that would take at least three days to check out. By then Sam intended to be long gone. If, he thought, he could ever move again.
    Christ, but his jaw hurt . . . felt like he’d done ten rounds with the Boston Strong Boy.
    After a few long seconds, her fingers brushed the curtain of black hair out of his face, grazing his jaw in the process.
    “Sweet Jesus.” A moan escaped his split lips, and she patted them gently with a damp rag.
    “You poor man.”
    It sounded as if she was crying. That was all he