There’d been nothing sweet about Sonya, though. She’d been as focused on their missions as he’d been. Or so he’d thought until she’d betrayed him. Betrayed her country.
Sonya had taught him two things. First, that love might be real enough for some, but for him, it was not. And secondly, that working with women only led to disaster.
Marisa watched Tyler’s expression. She didn’t know who or what he was thinking about, and thought that was probably a good thing. Because a colder expression than she’d ever seen had come over his face.
“I took a self-defense course because I never wanted a man to sneak up behind me and grab me in a choke-hold again,” she said evenly. Then she turned to face forward. He could make of that what he wanted. She had no intention of explaining any further.
“Someone hurt you.” His voice was flat.
Marisa shrugged. Over the years, she’d learned to do that when she thought about what Gerald had done. But hurt was too mild a word. He’d ruined her.
“And you don’t want to talk about it,” Tyler concluded.
“I thought men didn’t like to do all that talking stuff that we women are so fond of.”
“Talkin’s okay.” His drawl was dry as dust. “Unless there’s somethin’ more entertaining to do. And between men and women, there’s usually something more entertaining to do.”
“How profound.”
“Hey, darlin’, I’m a Texas boy. We’re full of profundity.”
“You’re definitely full of something.” She hid her reluctant smile. A man more removed from a “boy” she’d never before seen. She realized he was heading the boat toward the bank again. “Are we stopping?”
“I want to go up that hill there and get a look-see around.”
Her jaw loosened a little as she looked up at the “hill.” It would take them hours to scale that peak. “Something you’re hoping to see when you get to the top?”
“When we get to the top, yes.”
“But you’re not going to tell me,” she finished for him. “You’re so predictable, Murdoch.”
“That’s me,” he agreed as he climbed over the side of the boat and pulled it up onto the bank. “Predictable as the sunrise.”
She got out, too, and helped him drag the inflatable farther into the trees where it couldn’t be seen at all.
Then he was flipping a small daypack on his back and strapping the machete onto his belt. He tossed her a canteen. It was barely half full, though he had another. And he’d disinfected some water the night before with some special tablets he’d had with him. She took a drink, then mirroring him, slid the strap crosswise over her shoulder.
It was getting steamy and warm, though the temperature was probably no higher than the mid-seventies. Once they headed deeper into the forest, it would be cooler, though no less humid. She tugged fruitlessly at her hair, wishing she had a comb or an elastic band. Anything to get it out of her face and off her neck. “I’m gonna cut it off,” she told herself.
“What? Your hair?” Apparently satisfied that he’d secured the boat and the rest of their stuff as safely and unobtrusively as he could, he brushed past her and headed into the close-set trees. “I nearly had to do that to get you untangled from the trees in the river. Would have been a shame, though.”
Her hands paused on her hair, then she hurriedly finished knotting it back and followed after him. “Did my ears deceive me or did you almost give me a compliment just then?”
“Stating a fact, M. That’s all. You’ve got great hair.”
She made a face at his back. “Silly me.”
She thought she heard him laughing softly, but knew she had to be imagining it.
Within minutes, the path that Tyler was forging headed sharply upward. The machete was much more than an affectation; he had to hack his way steadily through the growth and as Marisa followed him, the steady swipe and thwack of the blade melded into a mesmerizing rhythm.
She wasn’t even aware that she was humming beneath her breath until Tyler stopped short and looked back at her. “What are you singing?”
She blinked. “What? Oh.” Her face flushed. “Just something that my abuela sang when my father was working in the field.”
“Field?”
“Generally that’s what a farmer does.”
He turned smoothly and led the way once more. “What’d he grow? Starbucks coffee?”
She couldn’t have been more pleased when a branch that he’d just pulled out of his way bounced back and rapped him hard on the butt. Nearby, two birds were startled into flight, their striking yellow, red and white feathers looking vivid against the world of green around them. “You’re a snob,” she stated.
“Hardly. I just don’t believe you grew up on one of the little farms that dot Mezcaya’s landscape.”
“But you’ll believe I’m somehow in league with El Jefe. Are all Texans as pigheaded as you, or am I just particularly blessed with your company?”
“You’re blessed.”
She huffed, and they trudged onward.
It seemed to take forever. Marisa realized she was counting every footstep, and made herself stop, because that just seemed to add to the agony screaming through her thighs and calves.
She’d thought she was in fairly decent physical condition, but this was making her seriously doubt it. Just putting one foot in front of the other grew to be a mammoth task and she could feel blisters forming on her heels, despite the thick cotton socks of his that she wore.
Tyler, however, didn’t look as if he were suffering in the least from anything, much less leather shoes that were shrinking. The daypack looked small where it hung below his broad shoulders. The only indication that he was feeling any effort at all over the hike was the perspiration streaking down the back of his olive drab shirt. Considering the humidity, however, a person could sweat like that from standing still.
When she realized she was also watching the way his camouflage pants hugged his rear as they climbed upward, she looked back along the path they’d made, but it was nearly impossible, even with the swath he was cutting, to see exactly where they’d passed through. Everywhere she looked they were surrounded by trees. New growth that was striving mightily to get past the palms and monstrously huge ferns that grew closer to the ground. Old growth that was being eaten away by moss or insects. Even looking straight up, all she could see was the canopy of forest over her. And all she could hear was a cacophony of sound.
Fumbling with the canteen, she took a long drink. She was a native of this land, yet she could do nothing but yearn for wide-open spaces where the sky was visible no matter where you were and the wild foliage didn’t seem ready to overtake anything or anybody who made the mistake of standing still for longer than a minute or two at a time. And if that didn’t get you, then one misstep of the foot could put you in a wash where the soil had been wiped away by one of the rains. And then there were the snakes…
“Need a break?”
She realized Tyler was waiting several yards ahead and capped the canteen as she shook off her silliness. “No.” She set her chin and determinedly walked forward. “Let’s just get this done.”
But he didn’t move, not even when she caught up to him, and she wanted to put her hands on his chest and shove him out of the way. Either that, or put her hands on his chest and just lie there, resting, for about a month.
Which was most definitely an unacceptable, ludicrous notion. Just because she now knew exactly how solid and strong that chest felt beneath her cheek. “If I stop I won’t get going again,” she admitted breathlessly. “Now move, would you?”
“We’re almost there.”
She snorted. “How can you tell?”
“You’re doing great.”
Encouraging words from him did nothing to alleviate her mounting discomfort. But arguing the point simply took too much energy. So she focused on watching his feet, reminded herself what was at stake and kept walking.
And then, they were t
here.
As if the world was a flower that had suddenly opened its petals to the sun, they were out of the suffocating, close forest.
“You can see forever,” she breathed, turning in a slow circle.
Only it wasn’t entirely true. The summit was draped like an elegant lady in layers of silken, wispy clouds. And while the trek up had been filled with the noises of the forest, now it seemed oddly quiet.
Otherworldly.
Tyler watched Marisa’s face as she stared off into the distance, and wondered what she was thinking to cause that look of melancholy. He knew she was exhausted. Hell, his chest felt as if it was on fire. Yet, she hadn’t complained, not once, and he’d made no concessions to her in the hike.
“It’s quite a view,” he finally admitted, mentally kicking himself for not being sure which view he was referring to. Marisa, or the richly carpeted peaks and valleys stretching out below them.
Her gaze slid his way, and her expression was no longer sad. Instead her eyes seemed lit from something deep inside her. “It’s kind of exhilarating, don’t you think?”
“Feeling like you’re literally on top of the world?”
She smiled. “Yes. Exactly.” Then she seemed to shake herself a little and her smile disappeared. “All right, we’re at the top. Are you getting what you need from your little look-see?”
“What’s the matter? In a hurry to go back down?”
The thought seemed to horrify her, though she didn’t say so. He flipped open the daypack to pull out two protein bars. He handed her one, then took out his map.
“They taste better the hungrier you are,” Marisa observed as she eagerly bit into her bar and sat down, cross-legged, in the overgrown grass that covered the mountaintop.
“You’d be surprised what can taste great in comparison to starving,” he murmured absently as his mind calculated distances and travel time. In the Gulf, thanks to a tiny batch of unstable explosives that went off in his gear at the most inopportune time, he and his friends had been captured and held hostage for weeks. They’d have starved to death if not for Westin’s actions to rescue them. Dirt wasn’t exactly high nutrition.
He pulled out the small binoculars and scoped out the terrain that was—hallelujah—still visible through the thickening clouds thanks to the powerful lenses. When he was satisfied with his bearings, as well as the fact that whoever was on their tail—if, in fact, it wasn’t some innocent person out for a little exploration—was still far behind them, he stiffly lowered himself to the ground and stretched out flat on his back, stifling a sigh. Then he peeled open his protein bar.
Five minutes and they would need to get going again.
Marisa’s arm stretched out above her. “It’s almost as if you could touch heaven with your fingertips up here,” she said in a hushed voice.
“If there is one.”
She folded her arms around her knees. “I suppose you don’t believe in heaven or hell.”
“Hell is real enough.”
“Yes,” she murmured after a moment. “It is.”
It was only curiosity, he told himself, that finally got the better of him. “Who was it?” As far as Tyler was concerned, it took the heinous actions of another person to put that particular look in someone’s eyes.
She understood exactly what he meant. But it was a while before she finally answered, as if she were as reluctant to answer the question as he’d been to pose it. “My ex-fiancé.”
He wasn’t terribly surprised at that, though she still seemed too young to have fit so much into her life.
“And you?” She barely waited a beat. “No, wait. It was undoubtedly a woman. One you had to work with, I’ll bet.” Her lips twisted. “You’re a puzzle, Murdoch, but those pieces are obvious even to an untrustworthy Latina like me.”
“I told you I don’t give a flip what your heritage is. At least you know what it is.”
“And you don’t know yours?”
“I know enough to know what you make of your life is up to you, not your parents, or lack of ’em.” Annoyed with the direction things were headed, annoyed that he’d wanted to know who had hurt her, he pushed to his feet. And barely held back a vicious oath as his ribs protested.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” He stuffed the empty wrappers in his pack and shouldered it again. “Let’s move.”
“Nothing,” she mimicked under her breath as she fiddled for a moment with her shoes before standing. Tyler set off down the trail he’d created on their way up, and praying that she still had some skin left on her heels when their jaunt was over, she followed.
The forest had barely begun to thicken again into that enclosed verdant world when a low murmur of thunder rolled through the sky. It was the only warning they had before fat raindrops began sneaking through the leaves to plop on them.
“Perfect,” she heard Tyler mutter.
“Give it five minutes,” she told his back. “It’ll pass. At least it’s not the rainy season. That’s when you have sunlight for five minutes before it passes.”
Only, five minutes passed and the rain showed no sign of letting up. Tyler gave her one telling look over his shoulder before he continued hacking his way downward.
Five minutes became fifty.
The ground grew slick. Her leather-soled shoes lost what little traction they’d had and she had to catch herself, more than once, from falling on her rear. When she actually slipped far and fast enough to bump into Tyler, she’d begun to think that sliding down the mountain on her rear might just be easier.
He caught her while she steadied herself. “We’ve gotta do something about those shoes of yours.”
She started to comment on that.
“I know, I know. Don’t start.” He ran his dark gaze down her. “I suppose you had hiking boots in that suitcase of yours.”
She hadn’t, but she couldn’t resist letting him feel some compunction for having blown up her belongings, so she let him think what he liked.
They set off again, Tyler moving even more slowly, because of her shoes, she was sure. She was wet, muddy, and the sustenance from the protein bar had only gone so far. “I had toys and clothes and magazines and books,” she said, her irritation with the entire situation audible in her tone.
“Pardon?”
“In the suitcase. I’d planned to have them sent to my family.” Only she knew that even if he had saved them from the plane, she couldn’t actually see them carting the weighty objects all over the countryside.
Tyler frowned. Delivered? “Why not take ’em yourself?”
She didn’t answer, and his boot slipped in the mud when he looked back at her. That would have been fine, if not for Marisa, who didn’t slow up quickly enough. She skidded and bumped him, her arms flailing as she fought for balance.
Resignation swept through him in the millisecond before they both went down, arms and legs tangling as they gained momentum. He barely caught a glimpse of Marisa’s horrified face before mud splashed over them both.
Then he instinctively wrapped his arms around her, shoved her face down against his chest, and went with the flow. At least he was headed downward feetfirst, he thought, as the ground seemed to turn into one giant mud slide. His boots broke off the worst of the foliage that wasn’t washed away by mud. A good thing, because the world was a blur of bumps and turns and the only thing he had some measure of control over was hanging on to the bedraggled, shapely woman lying on top of him.
They shot out from the trees, Tyler grimly aware that they were nowhere near where they’d left the inflatable, and he dug his heels into the earth, determined to keep them from sliding right off the riverbank and back into the water.
Crushing Marisa to his chest with one arm, he caught out at anything they passed with the other, slowing their descent even more.
Finally. They bumped and rolled and slid to a bone-jarring stop, his boots mere inches from the water’s edge.
Marisa was shaking. Tyler could
feel every quake through to his bones. Moving gingerly, afraid of where she might be hurt, he gently rolled her to the side, leaning over her. He peeled back a river of silky black hair. Her eyes were closed, her mouth parted as she gasped for air. Mud covered her cheeks and he brushed some of it away, only succeeding in leaving a smear from his own caked hands.
“Come on, Marisa,” he murmured. “It’s over. It’s okay.”
Then she opened her eyes, still quaking.
And laughed.
He sat back like a shot, skidding an inch closer to the water.
Her hands pressed to her stomach and she bent over, shaking with laughter. He shook his head, feeling a chuckle himself.
When she tried to wipe her face with the hem of the shirt, leaving it only dirtier, she laughed even harder, startling a monkey from the branches overhead into swinging even higher where it let out an ungodly howl.
Marisa rolled onto her hands and knees, pushing herself up until she could stand over him. “Life with you is definitely not boring, Murdoch,” she finally acknowledged, still breathless with laughter. “And here I’d just been thinking it would be faster to get down here on our rear ends.”
He looked up at her, and felt a sudden shaft of arousal so fierce it left him aching. “You’re not hurt.”
She ran her hands through her tangled hair, scattering droplets of muddy water. “Well, you are a bit too hard to pass for a pillow, but I’d say you took the worst of it.”
His lips twisted. She had no idea just how unpillowlike he was. He pushed to his feet, yanking off the daypack, keeping his back to her. “Are you always this accident prone, or is it only with me that sh—stuff like this happens?” If he’d hoped to annoy her, he failed. For she just went off into another peal of laughter as she looked up the mountain they’d just descended in record time.
The Mercenary Page 6
