Mercenary’s Promise

by Sharron McClellan

  Dropping to one knee, he sighted his target through the scope and squeezed the trigger.

  The line zipped out, hissing as the metal barb arced across the gorge and impaled itself into the tree. Praying for luck, he checked it through the sight. The head embedded itself far enough that the side barbs disappeared into the wood.

  Nice. He put the rifle down and yanked the line to set the barbs. “You sure you want to do this?” he asked again, giving her one last chance to back out.

  Not that she would.

  “Positive.”

  Of course she was. He removed the rollers and harness from his pack and tossed her a set. “Gear up.”

  She slipped into her harness, and he checked it out, pulling at the seams. The webbing looked good. No sign of wear. But the gear wasn’t used that much. Instances like this were few and far between.

  “I’ll go first,” he said. “The rollers are easy to work. Watch.” Shouldering his pack on, he stepped up to the edge of the gorge, attached the rollers then clipped onto them. He looked over his shoulder. “See this?” He tapped the crank on the lower side of the roller. “If it stops, turn this. It’s a bitch, but you can do it. It’ll move the rollers by hand.”

  “Do you think it’ll stop?” Bethany asked.

  He shook his head. “No, we have gravity on our side. It’s why I picked this spot. It gives us a downward angle.”

  She licked her lips. “Good.”

  He almost felt sorry for her, but none of this would be needed if she were more sensible.

  “Xavier?” Bethany stepped in front of him.

  She smiled a crooked, shaky grin and he couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. “Yes?”

  She leaned forward and kissed him. Her mouth was soft against his. “Be careful.”

  He cupped her face in his hands. “It’ll be okay. You’ll be okay. I promise. This is easy. Just like an amusement park ride.”

  She nodded and stepped away.

  His blood racing, Xavier stepped to the edge. His skin tingled in anticipation. He didn’t often get the chance to zip-line, but it never got old. Never lost its thrill. “It’s just like flying,” he described. “Don’t look down. Don’t panic. Just enjoy the ride.” With a push, he launched himself over the gorge, the familiar spike of fear washed over him at the initial leap. Would the barb hold? Would the rope break? Would he fall to his death?

  The spike of fear lasted less than a second as sheer joy replaced it. Moments like this made the job. He didn’t even mind the fear.

  He raced over the gorge, suppressing the urge to whoop and hold his arms out as wind whipped past him, blocking out any other sound. The ride lasted mere seconds, and then he was on the other side, his feet skidding over rock as he stumbled to a halt.

  Grinning, he removed his gear, hoping Bethany got past her fear long enough to enjoy the experience. Training his binoculars on her, he watched her attach the rollers and harness, prepared to yank the line to get her attention if she got it wrong.

  She didn’t. Balancing on the tip of her toes, she swayed in the harness. He saw her mouthing a familiar chant in any language.

  One. Two. Three.

  She launched.

  Good for her. She’d done the hardest part—jumping into the abyss. He kept the binoculars trained on her as she flew across the gorge, her eyes squeezed tight. He chuckled.

  The squeal of metal against wood sounded behind him. The chuckle died on his lips. Whirling around, he watched as the barb started to pull free from the wood that held it.

  A centimeter. Then two.

  He grabbed the rope and pulled, trying to take some of her weight off the loosening barb then flicked his attention back to Bethany. Fifty feet from the edge, she slowed as the rope grew slack. Then stopped.

  Son of a bitch. He pulled harder.

  She opened her eyes, locking them on his. “Xavier?”

  “Crank it!”

  Her hands remained wrapped around the strap that held her to the rollers.

  Despite his help, the barb squeaked again. He didn’t dare look back to see how much was still in the tree.

  “Do it,” he shouted.

  Her eyes slipped to where he strained to hold the rope.

  “Hurry!”

  Shaking, she reached for the crank and turned it. Once. Twice. She moved forward a foot.

  “Keep going,” he shouted. “You’re doing great.”

  Her eyes returned to his. She gave another turn. Then another.

  The rope dug into his palms. He grimaced, knowing he couldn’t hold it much longer, and if the barb pulled free, they both were dead. She’d fall to her death, and he’d follow when the barb embedded itself in his hand and pulled him after her.

  There was no way he was letting go. He was not going to lose her.

  He gritted his teeth and pulled harder, the thought of Bethany falling to her death an almost unbearable torture.

  Still dangling, she pulled her body weight forward. Her forehead glistened with sweat, the muscles in her arm quivered, but her eyes no longer sparkled with fear.

  Determination had taken its place.

  Ten feet left. “Come on, baby,” he said through gritted teeth. “You can do it.”

  She didn’t acknowledge him but moved forward, her focus on the roller above her. Seconds later, her feet landed on the edge of the gorge. The rope went slack in his hands. She took a step forward.

  He’d almost lost her. Hands shaking, Xavier let go of the rope and unhooked her from the rollers.

  She fell to her knees. “Let’s never do that again,” she said, her breathing ragged.

  He fell beside her. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her to his chest. Thank God she was safe. But still, he shook at the thought he’d almost lost her.

  And that scared him more than anything.

  Still trembling against Xavier, Bethany looked over his shoulder. The barb that held her lifeline to the tree had managed to pull itself halfway out of the bark. “I could have died,” she whispered. “Do you see that?”

  “I do,” Xavier said. He kissed the top of her head. “We’ll stop here for the night.”

  “Now?” There was two hours’ worth of light left. Despite being shaken, she wanted to hike. Adrenaline shivered through her, making her skin prickle and demanding she work off the excess energy.

  “By the time we arrive, it’ll be dark,” Xavier explained. “I’d rather stay here and reach the camp in daylight. It makes everything easier.” He kissed the top of her head again. “And I don’t know about you, but I need a drink.”

  “We have alcohol?”

  “Mescal. It makes a cheap disinfectant. Or can help on days like these.”

  Bethany nodded. She wasn’t much of a drinker, but maybe it would stop the shaking. “Sounds good.”

  “I’ll get it,” Xavier said. He kissed her hair for a third time but instead of getting up to find the mescal, he bunched his hands in her hair, tilted her face to his and kissed her. Gentle at first, the kiss became fierce and demanding within seconds.

  Who needed mescal and a walk? Xavier held her bottom lip between his teeth, and for a moment, she forgot to breathe. Breaking the kiss, she kissed a path to his shoulder, tasting the salt of his skin.

  He unhooked her backpack. She let it fall backward and then slid her hand under Xavier’s shirt.

  “Bethany.” He whispered her name and bit her neck hard enough to bruise.

  It wasn’t enough. She needed more. Needed Xavier to keep her grounded. “I need you,” she whispered.

  Groaning, he lay down on the bare stone, taking her with him then rolling over so she was beneath him and so close to the edge of the gorge that the breeze tossed her now-loose hair.

  “You are magnificent,” he mumbled. Hands shaking, Xavier unzipped her pants and his own, yanking them down as far as he was able.

  Retrieving a condom, he slid it over his erection and in seconds, he was in her. Bethany arched upward. “More.”


  Xavier held her hips and thrust harder.

  A climax rolled through her, and Bethany pulled Xavier to her, keeping him close as she arched beneath him. And in the back of her mind, she heard his cry.

  When she opened her eyes, there was nothing but sky and trees above her. And Xavier.

  He traced a path up her arm with his fingertips, and a sigh escaped her lips. “Did I hurt you?” he asked. “That was somewhat…”

  “Intense?”

  She caught his nod out of the corner of her eye. “I’m fine,” she answered, loving that he had asked.

  His fingers found their way to her torso then his hand flattened out, and he rested his palm on her stomach. “Then why are you crying?”

  Bethany put a hand to her cheek and found it wet with tears. She’d never had that happen before. “I don’t know,” she replied. “Just happy to be alive, I guess.”

  “You cheated death. Tears are not an uncommon reaction.” He leaned over her and kissed the corner of her mouth.

  He was beautiful, she realized. He was everything she ever wanted—inside and out. She brushed his hair back, and he captured her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Rest. I’ll make camp.”

  He wanted to treat her like a girl? This time, she wasn’t going to object. “Thanks.”

  Letting the breeze that rose from the gorge cool her, Bethany closed her eyes and listened as Xavier pitched the tent and unpacked the minimum amount of gear needed for the night.

  She knew the reason for her tears. It had nothing to do with cheating death and everything to do with Xavier. She had to tell him what she’d done. The lies. The money. Everything.

  He wouldn’t abandon her. He wasn’t that kind of man.

  But what was he going to do when he found out what kind of woman he’d agreed to assist? The kind of woman he’d made love to? He’d hate her.

  And forgiveness? That was for someone else.

  You’re doing this for Samantha, a voice whispered. For your mother.

  The rationalization didn’t make her feel better.

  Another tear slid down her cheek, and she wiped it away before he saw it.

  Chapter 10

  For what seemed like the hundredth time the next morning, Bethany tried to force herself to tell Xavier what she’d done. Last night, she’d lain awake long after he’d fallen asleep, rehearsing the words in her head. But no matter how she rearranged them, she still sounded like a liar.

  That’s because you are a liar.

  That singular fact kept her silent. She was almost positive that despite her own lies, Xavier would keep his promise to save her sister.

  It was who he was. What he did. Xavier wouldn’t let her or Samantha down, despite her own transgressions.

  But almost positive wasn’t the same as completely positive, and the thought of taking a chance with Samantha’s freedom—even a small chance—made her nauseous.

  “Here.” Xavier pointed her towards a wide path. “We’re close.”

  Besides, he’d changed over the course of their morning trek. When she’d woken in his arms, he’d smiled at her, held her, stroked her skin and kissed her neck.

  That Xavier was still at the edge of the gorge. The man leading her to FARC was harder. His heart held no pity or mercy. There was nothing of the Xavier from last night, she realized. This man was a soldier. A man who took money in exchange for his ability to take a life if necessary.

  “How close?” Her voice squeaked. There was no way she was telling him the truth. Not now. She hoped to hell it was the right decision.

  He cocked his weapon. “Close enough that we’re going in locked and loaded. You fire on my signal. Not before.” He made a gun barrel with his first two fingers and thumb to show her the move. “Is that clear?”

  For a moment, she caught a glimpse of the Xavier from last night behind the black eyes and his worry for her. Then he was gone. She cocked her gun, as well. “I understand.”

  “Good, now stay behind me. We don’t know—” He held up his hand, signaling silence.

  “What is it?” she whispered.

  He glared at her and held a finger to his lips. Then she heard it—conversation in Spanish farther up the trail and coming closer.

  Xavier pushed Bethany away from the path and into a thick bush. Thirty feet in, he grabbed her hand, yanking her to the ground. She spit moss from her mouth and shook the dirt off her weapon. This was getting old.

  The voices grew closer. Sweat broke out on her forehead. Had the men heard her and Xavier as they crashed into the jungle? If they hadn’t, then they were either deaf or stupid. She glanced at Xavier. Crouched next to her, he still held his gun in one hand but in the other was a knife. Not large but large enough, sharp and silent enough to kill if they were discovered.

  The blade gleamed in the shadows. She prayed it didn’t come to that.

  The voices continued, but the men stopped moving. Bethany strained to hear them as they spoke then rolled her eyes at her idiocy. Like that was going to help.

  She promised that when she got out of this and was safe at home with Samantha, she’d learn Spanish.

  Someone whacked at the foliage, confirming her fear. Bethany held her breath, positive they’d hear her if she so much as exhaled.

  Something tickled her free hand. Bethany glanced down and caught herself before a shriek ripped through her throat. A snake—its brownish-orange scales broken up by a black stripe down the spine that also marked its sides like a tiger’s stripes—slithered from behind her and glided across her hand on its way to who knew where. She swallowed hard and managed to hold herself still despite the singular, almost overwhelming urge to yank her hand away.

  The snake paused, and she swallowed again. It’s not poisonous, she told herself, trying not to focus on the triangular-shaped head that was indicative of the viper family.

  It’s not poisonous.

  She looked at Xavier. His eyes were huge.

  Damn, she wanted to be right. Whatever the brand of snake crawling over her, it was very much poisonous.

  Fifteen feet away, the FARC soldiers beat the leaves around them. The snake froze.

  Oh, hell. This was going to get awkward, bloody and maybe lethal if something didn’t happen soon. She looked at Xavier again.

  Don’t move, he mouthed.

  As if she needed to be told.

  The soldiers grew closer, and the snake twitched. She may not know what kind of snake it was, but she knew that if it bit her, she was screwed.

  Xavier set his knife on the ground, taking care not to startle the snake any further. With his hand free, he grabbed the reptile at the back of the head. It thrashed for less than a second before he tossed it overhand toward the soldiers.

  Through a gap in the leaves, Bethany watched the snake glide through the air, twisting, turning and coming to land on one of the soldiers.

  He screamed and did a hyper little dance as he grabbed the snake and tossed it away then opened fire on the canopy above them, destroying leaves with a barrage of bullets.

  She hugged the ground, covered her head with her arms and prayed that a stray bullet didn’t hit her or Xavier by accident.

  The shots stopped and shouting took its place. Nothing she understood but an angry tone that translated in any language. Cautiously, she raised her head.

  From what she observed, neither man was hurt, but one was scared and from the gesturing and frowning, the other didn’t think much of his fear.

  They were both cowards as far as she was concerned.

  The voices continued to argue then fade as the men continued down the trail.

  They’d done it. No, she corrected herself—Xavier did it. He was creative and cool in a bad situation, and that was why she needed him. The fact he was hot and knew how to touch her in all of the right places was icing.

  Delicious, wonderful icing.

  Stop it, Bethany. Now is not the time.

  She started to rise, and Xavier shook his head and held up
five fingers.

  Five minutes.

  She nodded and relaxed. She’d come this far. She wasn’t going to let impatience make her screw up.

  He motioned for her to rise.

  “That way,” Xavier said, heading in the direction the men had come from. They made their way, pushing through the jungle, staying silent and off the path. She tilted her head and noticed myriad sounds that didn’t belong in the jungle. Metal on metal. Gravel crunching underfoot. And voices.

  The camp. And it sounded as if it were over the rise in front of them.

  Bethany dropped to the jungle floor before Xavier dragged her himself. He lay beside her and pointed forward with two fingers.

  Worming her way to the top of the rise, she pushed the leaves apart.

  The FARC encampment lay below them in the cleared-out hollow of the mountains. On the far side of the compound was a garden. A collection of scattered huts constructed of thick sticks that made it seem like a village built by the three little pigs—if the three little pigs had kept hostages.

  One structure stood out. Covered with netting, she guessed it held weapons of some kind. Maybe food? There was no way to tell, and it didn’t matter. She was here for Samantha. Nothing else mattered.

  Feeling for the backpack behind her, she unzipped the side pocket in her pack and pulled out a pair of binoculars to survey the scene in more detail.

  She’d read once that FARC was fueled by peasants. People tired of a repressive government. Men and women who wanted better than the government would offer.

  The people below were dressed in rags, confirming her information. But she still found no pity in her heart. They might be peasants, but their guns were shiny and new, and if they once fought for a new government, that was a lot of idealism ago. Now they fought for the cocaine trade and a bigger bank account.

  And they used hostages like her sister to do it.

  If it were up to her, she’d gun them all down. She blinked hard, the blood-thirsty urge taking her by surprise.

  Xavier’s tap on the top of her hand brought her back to reality.

  She realized her hand was on the butt of her gun.

  He shook his head.

  She nodded. Time to get a grip, Bethany. Her heart pounding with hope, she scanned the faces below her. A few hostages worked in the garden. One lay on his side, chained to a tree.