On Deadly Ground (Devlin Security Force Book 1)

by Susan Vaughan

  “Like send out two-man patrols with AK-47s or whatever automatic weapons you Delta dudes use?”

  “AK-47s are Russian weapons. The U.S. Army uses something like an M16.” His scowl morphed into a sheepish grin that made her feel all soft inside. “But we have no troops and no assault rifles.”

  “All you could’ve done was guard the top of the cenote. Or watched in the trees. Your pistol to their rifles, they’d still have stolen everything. Then they’d have killed us.”

  “You’re right. Being in the cenote saved us.”

  “I’m surprised they didn’t search for the owners of the tent and packs,” she said.

  “One man wanted to, but the others insisted they beat feet with what they had.” He scraped fingers through his hair. “That much was lucky. But I still screwed up big time.”

  “That you did, but I’ll take some of the responsibility. My little striptease probably fogged your brain.”

  “Can’t argue. Thanks for putting a better spin on the situation.”

  Laughing, he speared a piece of the armadillo meat with his wicked-looking seven-inch blade. “Looks like supper’s done. Hope I haven’t overcooked the sucker.” He lifted the makeshift spit from over the fire and laid the steaming cutlets on a broad leaf. He picked up a cutlet on his knife blade and took a bite. “It’s ready. Not too bad. A little chewy.”

  She’d rather wait a few minutes. Hunger screamed in her stomach, but armadillo? “Are the bandits working for one of the rivals for Kizin?”

  “Don’t think so.” He slapped at a mosquito on his neck. “From what I heard them say, they were just following us, hoping for somebody to rob. They were as excited as kids at Christmas to find our packs with food and medical supplies. They looked ragged and hungry.”

  Living in the jungle like animals... She shuddered. She and Max were now doing exactly that. A few more days and she’d be ragged and hungry. Hungrier than now. Another reality slap.

  She needed nutrition. Meat was protein. The armadillo was looking better. She took a tentative bite. It did taste like pork. She let out a breath. “Why would anyone live from hand to mouth in the jungle like that?”

  He slanted a skeptical look her way, clearly chiding her for viewing life from her privileged background.

  “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking. No one would choose that life. Could they be fugitives or illegals heading north?”

  “Fugitives is my guess. Back in the capital, I heard the bartender talking about escapees from a national police van. Colombian drug smugglers. The van was taking them from a town on the Mexican border to the prison near Cabo Blanco. They killed the three guards and threatened the driver. When he fought them, the van crashed into the trees. They left him for dead but he survived to tell the police.”

  “And you think these are our bandits. Hiding out in the jungle.”

  “Rifles looked like police issue Remington 700s. Probably stolen from the guards.”

  Drug smugglers. Dangerous and violent men with powerful weapons. A chill rippled through her. She couldn’t let herself dwell on those men. She had to lock away any thoughts of what they might do. Her stomach rebelled but she forced herself to swallow the last bite of even more tasteless meat.

  Eyeing her with concern, Max held up her canteen. “We have to conserve, but you should drink.”

  She nodded and sipped just enough to wash down the last taste of the meat.

  He turned toward the fire. “Get some sleep. The bandits won’t be wandering around at night. I’ll keep the fire going to repel four-legged and six-legged nocturnal predators.”

  “Wake me later. I’ll take a turn at watch.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and inhaled his comforting scent, tinged by wood smoke and sweat. He curved an arm around her shoulder and kissed her, first hard and hungry, then softer and sweet. “Rain check on a follow-up to that kiss?”

  “You got it, darlin’.” He turned away from her and stoked the fire.

  He clearly still felt guilty but she didn’t know what else to say to him, so she scooted farther into their lean-to and lay on her towel where she could see out. See Max.

  At night the jungle ruled, impenetrable and never silent. The ree-o-ree song of the nightjar accompanied the flutter of bats and a choir of insects. The occasional hoot of an owl and the hunting cough of a jaguar. Her own jungle predator prowled inside her. She needed rest but how could she possibly sleep?

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Sun rays spearing into the easterly facing lean-to stung Max’s gritty eyes. The air hung still and hazy, heavy with humidity. His shirt stuck to his skin like paint.

  He’d promised Kate to get their stuff back, but he had no idea how. Yet. They needed her phone above all else. At least she’d transferred the compass to her dry pants when she changed. No map, but he remembered the next village’s location. If they made it there tomorrow, he could leave her in relative safety and reconnoiter.

  The Colombians might be trained fighters. Some of those drug gangs were damned sophisticated. Still, he had stealth on his side. He could take down the four scum by himself but Kate had to stay out of danger.

  Another suffocating day lay ahead, with the sun broiling them, and they’d lost their hats to the thieves. Their water supply was low. They had to reach the village with no time lost.

  Kate stirred behind him. “You didn’t wake me,” she said, her tone accusing.

  He scooted to the side to let her sit up.

  Her hair tumbled around her face in the wild curls she couldn’t tame without all her female paraphernalia. Her face was flushed with sleep. Mesmerized by her sexy disarray, he almost reached for her.

  He settled for looking his fill. “You needed sleep.”

  “So did you.”

  “I’m used to living rough. You’re not.”

  She smiled, a soft curve of lips that lit her blue eyes and zapped him with lust. And unexpected tenderness. “Thank you. I guess I needed the rest. I feel much better.”

  They headed off in separate directions to take care of personal matters. Then before she could launch into questions about finding the bad guys, he steered her into breaking camp.

  They had no food but should find fruit as they trekked, he told her. As they were dismantling the shelter, a squall soaked them but passed before he could collect water in either canteen. The rain doused the last embers of their fire, so he mixed the ashes with sticks and leaves to erase their campsite.

  “Do you have ideas for getting our belongings back?” She’d finished untying the palm fronds. The anguish in her eyes made his sting.

  Feeling a muscle jump in his jaw, he averted his gaze. “Working on it. You ready to go?”

  She indicated the compass hanging around her neck. “Good to go, sir. Yes, sir.” She flipped him a passable salute.

  Her jaunty demeanor was all bravado, judging from her crimped forehead and over-bright eyes. She’d need that and a whole lot more if fate threw more snafus in their path. “I was a sergeant. You don’t salute sergeants. Headin’ out.”

  “Heading where, Sergeant? Straight for K’eq Xlapak?”

  “Roger. But we’ll make a stop at a village I remember from the map. Let’s hope they’re friendly. We should make it there later today.”

  He’d have to tell her the rest of his sort-of plan, but not until he knew she was safe. She wouldn’t like being left behind one little bit. He dreaded the moment. Damn, he was keeping too much from her. No choice for the time being. Like she’d want to hear it was for her own good that he wasn’t telling her the rest of what Mara’d uncovered about her kidnapped brother. Shit.

  She smiled at the mention of the village. “They’ll have water and food. I can use a hat too. So can you.” She squinted in the sunlight.

  Scrapes, stings, and sunburn marred her skin. She’d eaten less than he did last night so she must be ravenous. The loss of the phone was eating at her. Yet she wasn’t pushing her agenda. Not a word of complaint, only hope.

&
nbsp; The pulse jerked in his throat as emotion swept through him. He clenched his jaw. “We should keep a low profile.”

  “Minimal trail cutting? In case the Colombians are looking for us?”

  “Right. And minimal conversation.” That would keep her from quizzing him. He’d concentrate on business, put her out of his head... and other body parts.

  Following her compass direction, they hit the jungle.

  ***

  Fatigue clawed at Kate. She tramped forward, willing one foot in front of the other. Muscles she didn’t know she possessed ached from sleeping on the lumpy ground. Every inch of exposed skin crawled. She shuddered, trying to ignore the itch. Blood might draw more insects, and scratching could cause infection.

  Around them, life squawked, hooted, and chirped, but she couldn’t dredge up interest. They found another zapote tree but bare of fruit, probably stripped by monkeys, Max said. He would figure out a way to get their belongings back. They still had four days.

  God knew what Doug’s kidnappers were doing with him, to him. If Thomas’s man Del Rio couldn’t rescue him, what in God’s name would she do? The dilemma tightened her throat as a tremor shifted the ground beneath her feet. Max helped her stay erect. A little reminder from Kizin not to yield?

  The sun was high before they came upon edible fruit—bananas and acerola, sweet red fruit in cherry-like clusters. Not much to sustain them, more an illusion of eating.

  A few minutes later Max halted her. “I smell smoke. The village must be just ahead.”

  She rolled her shoulders. “Maya villages are so poor. I don’t want to burden them.”

  “Poor by our standards, yes. But they have food and water. Sharing with travelers is the custom.” His deepening scowl hinted at another concern.

  “You think they might not welcome us?”

  He hiked a shoulder. “Maybe. But I doubt it. I’d just like to scope things out before we stroll in unannounced.”

  “Lead on, Sergeant,” she said. “I trust your instincts.”

  They crept through the foliage to the perimeter of the village clearing. Agitated voices came from the right.

  “Keep low,” he murmured.

  Kate followed in a semi-crouch as Max led them around, staying hidden in the dense foliage. Smoke from charcoal cooking fires and the fragrance of flowers drifted on a light breeze.

  The village was more substantial than she expected—a settlement with a dozen or more huts. Cut saplings tied together formed the building walls, and new palm fronds expertly overlapped made rain-tight roofs. Chickens and turkeys pecked the soil, and tethered goats grazed in the yards.

  A group of people were gathered in front of one hut. Kate and Max knelt on feathery ground cover to observe from beneath a low-growing palm tree. He looked implacable, but her heart drummed so hard she could barely hear the voices.

  The hut boasted an overhang to protect the entry from rain. Clay pots and colorful plastic buckets bursting with flowers lined a walkway leading to the door. A ring-tailed coatimundi confined by a thin chain paced and chattered on a wooden perch in the middle of the yard. People clustered there and near the door.

  Kate saw mostly women—about seven—and several small children. All had the cinnamon-colored skin, broad faces, and the sturdy build of the Maya. They wore the typical smock dress, embroidered at the neck and hem with bright flowers, and simple sandals.

  Two women wept and clutched their little ones close. The barefoot children stared wide-eyed at someone Kate couldn’t see. Three other women stood with their backs to the watchers. They hugged each other and rocked, in grief or for comfort. An older, gray-haired man occupied an upturned log, his head in his hands. A naked toddler sat crying on the dusty ground.

  The arguing Kate had first heard stopped, replaced by a tense silence.

  “What’s going on?” she whispered. “Where are the men?”

  “Probably out hunting or in the fields.” He motioned for her to stay quiet.

  When one woman moved toward the crying baby, other figures came into view in the shadows.

  Two men with rifles.

  Their dusky skin suggested indigenous heritage, but their finer features and ragged clothing didn’t blend with the appearance of the villagers. They wore filthy collared shirts and dark cotton trousers with tears and shredded hems. One wore flip-flops, the other no shoes at all.

  One man kept a firm hand clamped on a little girl’s shoulder. The child’s face was a frozen mask of fear. Tears tracked down her brown cheeks. The other man, alert and watchful, his rifle slightly raised, seemed to be standing guard. He stepped into the sunlight.

  Kate gasped. “That man’s wearing my cap.”

  Max’s adrenaline surged. He clamped a hand over Kate’s mouth. “You don’t want them to hear us.”

  “But—” Her eyes flashed blue lasers. Indignation rolled off her in waves.

  “Yes, it’s two of our bandits,” he bit out. Dammit. Why did the Colombians have to find this village? He couldn’t catch a fucking break.

  She clamped a hand on his wrist. “But, Max, they’re only two. Can’t you do something?”

  “Not unless you want some of those people killed. They have at least one more rifle and some handguns. And we don’t know where the other two men are.” He had a damned good idea but he hoped to God he was wrong. At the thought, bile crept up his throat.

  The intruder wearing Kate’s cap shouted to somebody inside the hut to move his ass. Max saw the other man grab his crotch and grin at his comrade. These two were waiting their turn. And not patiently.

  His guess wasn’t wrong. He cursed silently.

  When he saw the second man ruffle the girl’s hair and squeeze her shoulders, a chill slid down Max’s spine. She would be next. Unless he could stop it. If only he could think of a way to stop this atrocity without endangering Kate.

  She narrowed her eyes. “You know what’s going on over there.”

  He heaved a sigh of resignation. She’d know soon anyway. He thrust fingers through his hair. “I think the others are inside with two of the women.” The words were dust in his mouth.

  She shuddered, her eyes closed against the horror. “They’re taking turns... raping the women.”

  “While this pair stands guard. They sneaked into the village when the only men around are too old to fight them. By the time the other village men return home, these cabrones will be long gone.” His advantage was that they should be damned easy to track from here.

  “Is there nothing we can do to stop them?” Her eyes were pleading. “Your guns...”

  He shook his head. “I couldn’t take a chance. I might hit one of the women. Or a kid.” Then a light flashed on. “There is a possibility. A way my team flushed out some Taliban fighters.”

  “I knew it! You thought of something. I can help.”

  Kate help? The ice slid from his spine and congealed in his gut. “I’m going to make them think the menfolk are coming home. What you can do to help is stay hidden. Whatever happens, don’t show yourself until I call you.”

  Her brows lowered, forming the familiar thought lines between her eyes. This time the lines signaled rebellion. “Okay. But—”

  He clamped his hands on her trembling shoulders. “No but. I can’t do this if I have to worry about you. Promise me.”

  On a deep sigh, she whispered, “I promise.”

  He slid the Beretta from the ankle holster and checked it. “Do you know how to shoot?”

  Eyes wide, she took the gun. “Dad used to take Doug and me target shooting all the time. I haven’t held a gun in years, but I remember how to use one.”

  Seeing her handle the pistol correctly eased his mind. A millimeter. “That’ll have to do. If one of those bastards heads for you, blast him in the chest. Don’t hesitate.”

  “I won’t.”

  He half believed her steady voice. But leaving her crouched there under the palm lodged cactus spines in his chest. Damn. If there was any other way
...

  “Max?”

  He looked up from checking his Glock. “Yeah?”

  She cradled his head between her hands and pressed her mouth to his for a lightning raid of a kiss. “Be careful.”

  Blood thundered in his head and longing welled up in his soul. All he could manage to rasp out was his standard reply. “Always.”

  Kate watched the leaves flutter as Max crept away. She sat and hugged her knees to keep from following. After he disappeared, she listened for his passage. Nothing. How could such a big man move so silently? When dizziness threatened, she exhaled slowly and peered through the foliage.

  The same two men hung around the doorway. They seemed to be joking with each other. Only they were laughing. The little girl in the one man’s grip wept openly. The poor child couldn’t be more than eleven or twelve. Kate shuddered.

  Hurry, Max.

  From somewhere in the jungle behind the hut male laughter resounded. Then another voice spoke, calling out a greeting in Yucatec Mayan, “Ba’ax ka wa’alik,” and then random words, numbers and maskab, which she recognized meant machete.

  Was it Max? Or were the men really returning? Her heart pounded and her jaw was clenched so tightly it hurt.

  The crack of gunfire galvanized the group around the doorway. The women’s eyes widened in surprise. Children cried out.

  The man wearing her yellow cap called to the others, beckoning in frantic motions. “Ándale. ¡Apúrate!” That much Spanish she knew—Move it. Hurry!

  Another gunshot exploded, closer this time.

  Two men dashed from the hut to join the others. Fumbling with the zipper on his cotton trousers, one dropped a handgun in his haste to retreat. As he bent to retrieve it, the second collided with him, cursing. More together, he swung his rifle toward the crowd of women as a warning. A cleared path led away from the village but the four men slammed into thick jungle growth instead.

  The child who was spared was enveloped in loving arms and led to the old man. Some of the women entered the hut. To tend to their violated friends, Kate surmised. The others milled around as if uncertain.