Page 61 of Sutton's Shadow

Valeria Hurtado.

Sutton seethed as she captured image after image of Valeria smiling at the massacred inhabitants of the village. Righteous anger churned through her as sweat dripped into her eyes. She swiped it away to focus her lens on more of the brutalities. Valeria had turned on all of them. And Sutton had the proof in her camera.

“Sutton! Let’s go! Now!” Liam barked at her, grabbing her arm to pull her away.

“Just one more,” she cried, wrenching her arm out of his grasp. She needed more. More proof. More evidence. Valeria would pay. All these men would pay for murdering her friends.

Liam grabbed her by the waist and lifted, forcefully carrying her away from the village. A noise to their right had them both dropping to the underbrush in the jungle that was trying to overtake the small village again. They waited; breath held for the danger to pass. Sutton fought her inner desire to race back to document more of the scene, knowing deep down inside it would mean her death. But that didn’t appease the guilt she was feeling while abandoning the remaining girls to the ruthless soldiers. She focused on Liam’s steady breathing as he covered her, willing her racing heart to slow to a normal rhythm.

Once confident they wouldn’t be spotted, Liam rose and motioned for her to move. She crab walked backward a few steps, Liam covering her until it was safe for them to run without being seen. Once clear of the village, they joined the rest of Liam’s team and dashed for the Humvees, abandoning the people who had welcomed Sutton and her protection detail to the evil that had invaded it.

They were nearly at the Humvees when Sutton heard a shout that made her blood freeze. She ducked as the first shots rang out. Puffs of dirt sprang up at her feet, propelling her faster. Liam’s hand on her back pushed her forward.

“Keep running. Get to the vehicle.” She ran. Liam fired from behind her at the soldiers that were chasing them.

Ripping open the rear passenger door of the Humvee, Sutton threw herself inside. The other team members were laying down cover fire while leaning out the windows until Liam caught up.

A final, lone shot rang out, and Liam grunted as he jumped inside the vehicle, which was already in motion. She reached over him to pull the door closed once he was inside. He peered into her eyes and cupped her face.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I’m okay,” she said, her voice quivering, belaying the confidence she wanted to convey. “You?”

“Good,” he answered. “I’m... good.” But as soon as he said it, his hand dropped from her face, and he crumpled on the seat beside her. It was then she noticed the blood covering his back.

“Liam! Oh God! Liam!” she cried, pressing her hands over the spot where the blood seemed to come from. Tears coursed down her face as she watched the blood of the man she loved ooze out between her fingers as she used all her strength to press down to staunch the flow.

But it was no use. Liam, her fiancé, the love of her life, was gone. The back windshield shattered, a fiery pain struck her temple, and a wetness slithered down the side of her face. She swayed in her seat, stunned. The pain in her head and heart causing an intense dizziness to overwhelm her. As she collapsed, her last thought was the blame for Liam’s demise.

She would never forgive herself for causing his death.

Chapter 20

Suttonstaredintohiseyes. Eyes as dark as midnight, which, by some miracle, calmed her. Swallowing past the lump in her throat, she took a deep breath and told him... everything.

She started with the reason she’d been there to begin with, documenting a seminar for the new feminist movement among Colombia’s guerrilla groups, a converging of female minds. Strong female guerrilla fighters inspired women and girls to their cause.

She told him about Mina, that beautiful young woman whose life had been snuffed out in an instant, her ambitions and dreams never to come to fruition.

She told him about the strife and growing distance between her and Liam. She told him about going to bed alone and waking up to gunfire and screams.

She told him about running through the jungle, hiding in the foliage while the incessant need to capture every atrocity on film consumed her. She told him about how, when Liam had finally found her, she’d fought him, her need to keep snapping pictures overpowering her need for survival... until it didn’t, and her flight instincts kicked in.

She told him about racing through the dense jungle to get to their vehicle. Running side by side with Liam, hiding from those who hunted for them. The mad dash to the Humvee as Liam covered her back. The relief she’d felt upon reaching the vehicle.

Her voice broke for the first time during the telling of her story when she mentioned the blood that was spilling out of her fiancé. The tears fell unchecked as she told him of how she’d tried to stem the flow, the red quickly covering her hands. Even now, two years later, she could still taste the bile that had burned her throat when she’d seen all that blood. The sickening smell that filled the back seat.

She told Wyatt everything until the last shot rang out, shattering the back windshield. A shard of glass hitting her head caused her to collapse.

“The searing pain as the glass struck my temple was the last thing I felt until I woke up in the hospital two weeks later. I was told the guys got me out and to one of our aircraft carriers in the Caribbean. From there, they flew me to the states and eventually the hospital in Florida. The doctors told me Liam was gone, and because of the coma, I’d missed his funeral.” A sob burst from her lungs. “I missed it. I didn’t get to say goodbye,” she cried, dropping her face into her palms as she let go of her emotions for the first time since they’d told her about Liam’s death.

“Come here,” Wyatt ground out, his voice harsh and guttural as he lifted her into his lap. He wrapped his arms around her as she buried her face in his neck, the cries wrenching her body.

Wyatt held her, his hand occasionally stroking her hair. He remained quiet, didn’t try to quell her tears with platitudes. He simply held her until the worst of the emotions had been bled from her. Eventually, other sensations registered in her flayed mind. Wyatt’s lips in her hair, his arms squeezing her, his unsteady breaths. It was the latter that had her lifting her head to peer at him.

She was stunned at what she saw. He looked as ravaged as she felt. There was a shimmer of moisture in his eyes, which he rapidly blinked back. His lips were pressed firmly together, his jaw twitched, and he was clenching his teeth tightly. But then he met her gaze, and as she watched, his features relaxed, his expression one of care and—dare she say it?—love.

Her breath caught in her throat at that thought. She’d just shared the story of how her fiancé died, the man she’d loved. She couldn’t be experiencing a new love. It was too soon... wasn’t it? Her heart wanted to cry out no. This was right.

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