Jungle of Deceit

by Maureen A. Miller

  “Mitch?” She gaped.

  Who was he kidding? He was the one indulging in the sight of her. She was safe! God help him, he wanted to kiss her, but his grip gentled. His hands brushed up her biceps and across her shoulders, to cup her neck and trace his thumbs against her cheeks.

  “Are you okay?” His voice was hoarse. “Did he hurt you? I would have been up there sooner, but I couldn’t find the goddamn key.”

  Alex reached up and grabbed his arms, touching him. He could tell that she was still trying to establish whether he was real.

  “I don’t feel so good.” Her eyes rolled back.

  “Whoah.” He took hold of her shoulders. “I’ve got you.”

  Verdant irises slipped back into focus. “I thought−I thought you died.”

  “I know.” He shook his head. “We were split up at first, and then I saw what your destination was. Alex, I didn’t trust this place. I thought if we all went inside…that was it. We had no cards to play. No fallback.”

  “You became our fallback,” she whispered.

  “I had to. I had to stay back. Going all the way to Ramonez for help wasn’t an option. It would take too long. I needed to be an asset to you inside. I needed to get in here−away from the group. I needed to−” protect you.

  This was not some cryptic mission bestowed by an eccentric museum director. Nicholson and his dubious intentions were not in play here. Where this need to protect Alex came from was too complex to analyze.

  “Mitch!” Alex stiffened in his arms. “Someone is coming.”

  In his periphery, Mitch saw the approach of the guard from the front gate. The cigarette still dangled between his lips and the bitter tang of tobacco invaded the air. As nonchalant as the man might appear, Mitch recognized that the cigarette was in his mouth for a reason. To free his hands.

  Mitch turned and growled at the man in Spanish, “It’s about time they gave us something to play with here.”

  The guard spit out the cigarette and ground it into the dirt with the tip of his boot. He snorted and looked at Alex far too long.

  “Si. How long did he give you?”

  “I have to get her back up there in a few minutes.”

  The guard took a step toward them and Mitch clamped his hands on Alex’s shoulders to still her.

  “What are you going to do with her?” The guard sneered.

  “Not a damn thing until you leave.”

  That answer didn’t seem to work. The guard’s crusted fingers toyed with the strap of his rifle and he stared with the fascination of a snake to a mouse.

  “Solis gave her to me for now.” Mitch continued. “I don’t have long and there is a lot I want to do with her, so leave me alone. Besides,” he tipped his head up in the direction of the main building, “do you want him to look out and not see you at the gate?”

  That threat elicited the reaction Mitch was hoping for. The guard glanced over his shoulder at the unmanned entry. He spit at the ground and gave Alex another long look, and then nodded. “No problem. I will get my turn.”

  Instead of spinning to leave though, he started pacing backwards, watching them with each retreating step.

  Mitch looked down at Alex and felt her erratic breath, her eyes fixed on the armed man only fifteen feet away.

  “Alex.”

  Her glance jerked up to meet his.

  “Hold on to me.”

  And with just that warning, Mitch dipped his head and captured her mouth. Alex jolted, but he held her steady and brushed her mouth again−growling out a need that was supposed to be for show. Christ, one kiss in a ridiculously impossible situation, and he wanted her so bad he felt dizzy. He tried to focus on the external factors. This was an act. A dodgy guerilla with a lethal rifle was scrutinizing his every move. The potential for interruption and reproach from Solis lurked at any second.

  Yet, the lips that had enticed him since their very first rebuke were stoking him with desire. He had come so close to kissing her in the jungle. At that time he convinced himself it was to silence her wit−but no−he wanted that physical connection. She had attracted him with intelligence and bravado, but he wanted more. He wanted to touch. He wanted to feel Alex.

  Again his mouth swept hers and he struggled to focus on the location of the lecherous guard. Mitch knew that his frame was large enough to eclipse Alex from view. To anyone watching it might appear that he was enacting a sexual assault.

  Mitch leaned into her which was a big mistake because it revealed exactly how much he wanted her. Nestling his hips into hers only aggravated his condition. She stayed still in his arms though, and did not resist. Smart girl. She knew this was a performance. And damn, what an actress she was. She started to kiss him back. Her hands slid up his chest and it was as if her fingers were charged, shooting bolts of passion through him. Her hands slipped up over his shoulders where her arms locked around his neck so that she could arch further into him.

  “Alex,” he rasped against her mouth.

  He parted her lips with his own and tasted a blend of heat and heaven. His palms fell flat on the cement wall on either side of her head as he pinned her against the rigid surface with the length of his body. The kiss became a fusion of hunger, desire and the heady sense of reassurance that both of them were safe.

  ***

  Mitch was here. He was alive and he was kissing her−sucking the power from her limbs with each enticing sweep. She clung to him, and in the remote portion of her brain that was still coherent, it registered that he was putting on a show for their audience.

  Damn, the man should get an Oscar.

  Three years. It had been three years since she was last kissed, and it was not like this. At that time, the body had not been pressed against her, so hot and hard with need as if she were the only woman in the world. When Mitch touched her lips and growled out his need, she felt a heady sense of power which surged south to an area that joined in his friction. Her hand climbed the cords of his neck, her fingers seeking the hair that fascinated her the first day she laid eyes on it. It was soft to the touch as her fingers climbed higher, nearly knocking the cap from his head.

  Mitch drew back.

  “Easy, baby, you’ll knock my disguise off.”

  Alex kept her eyes closed, enjoying the resonation of his deep voice vibrating against her chest. Mitch was alive! She had refused to acknowledge her attraction to him. Even during their heated exchange in the jungle the other day, she refused to accept that he was nothing more than an inconvenience. But then he had made that quiet declaration that he felt something for her. And shortly thereafter he had pulled her into his arms at a time of such chaos. And when he disappeared her silent heartbreak was a physical and emotional testimony that she too had felt something for this attractive, annoying, and impossible man.

  “My eyes are dark enough from a distance, but I still have to hide them behind the sunglasses. And my hair isn’t black. I need the hat.”

  It was tough to decipher what he said. Her ears buzzed with the lingering traces of passion, and her eyes remained clamped shut. She hauled them open only to see her reflection.

  “You’re alive,” she whispered.

  “Yes.”

  His kiss was soft. So soft it hurt her heart.

  “This−” her palm rested on his chest, “−this was a show for the guard?”

  He touched her lips one more time and she felt water inch up behind her eyelids. With a brush of his mouth against her forehead, he withdrew. “What do you think?”

  So much pain. It hurt to take the leap.

  “It didn’t feel like an act.”

  “No.” His voice was husky. “God help us both…it wasn’t an act.”

  Wincing from the friction, he untangled from her body.

  “We had that coming to us,” he murmured. “Of course, I was picturing something more romantic than shoving you up against a concrete building with a cigarette-slinging guerilla breathing down our necks. Speaking of which…” he paused, “�
��where is our shadow right now?”

  Alex stepped up on her toes to peek over his shoulder. The guard had resumed his post, but he stood with his back against the gate, one leg crooked to prop him in place. She could feel his hard stare across the courtyard and withdrew into the shelter of Mitch’s chest. It was warm there.

  “He’s watching.”

  “Well, as much as I want to kiss you again…” Mitch cleared his throat, “−cause damn, I do. It has to wait until next time. Right now we need to talk to your guys and devise a plan.”

  At the first mention of her group, clarity returned. “Do they know you’re alive?”

  “No. I located you just as Solis was taking you upstairs.” He was tense, with dark eyebrows furrowed. “You were my first priority, Alex.”

  Alex swallowed. “Were they really raising a fuss, or was that your adaptation?”

  “My adaptation,” he grinned. “But I doubt it was a farfetched one.”

  “No,” Alex forced a smile. “I doubt it was.”

  “Alex.”

  “Hmmm?”

  “The fire was not an accident.”

  Her head snapped up. “How do you know that?”

  “There were empty gasoline canisters in a bin inside the wall, and the Jeep I stole still had some drained cans in it as well. Far more than would be necessary to fill its tank.”

  She could rationalize this information, but combined with Solis’s words, recognized that it must be fact. “Mitch, I have a feeling that I was the target of all this, but I don’t know why.”

  The reality that Mitch did not seem astonished troubled her.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Solis knows who I am, Mitch. He called me Dr. Langley when I never introduced myself as such. He said that my men were free to go, but that I must stay.”

  She fled his eyes to stare down at his sturdy boots, remnants of his original clothing. These were the same boots that sat beside her on the bank of the pond as for one moment she allowed herself to relax in the presence of a stranger. “He said that I was about to learn the mystery to the disappearing archeologists.”

  “Son of a−” Mitch’s hand curled into a fist against the concrete beside her. He looked in pain as he hunched over.

  “Mitch, are you okay?”

  Alex searched his closed eyes and drawn lips and wanted to kiss away every crease of angst.

  If that wasn’t just the craziest notion.

  “Yeah.” He righted himself. “We’re going to take Solis up on his offer and get the group out of here immediately−and then I’m going to work on getting you out. Solis can take his mystery and shove it up−well, I’m just saying that we’re leaving this place behind.” He hoisted the rifle over his shoulder and lowered the brim of his hat. “Let’s get to the guys before we attract any more attention.”

  “Right.”

  “Alex−” Mitch grabbed her arm as she hiked her tank top down and looped a loose lock of hair behind her ear.

  “We’re going to continue this.”

  She looked at him.

  “We have a lot to talk about,” he said as the strain momentarily lifted from his face. “And some other stuff as well.”

  “Alright.” She nodded and started off towards the next building. There was no time to dwell in the comfort of his promise. Maintaining her role of captivity, Alex stayed locked in his grasp, and realized that she needed that touch more than anything.

  Just as they stepped out of the shadows, she added, “I’m really curious about the other stuff, though.”

  ***

  “Dammit, here we go again with the keys.” Mitch rifled through the key ring. His greatest fear was that the guard he had pilfered them from would come stumbling through the front gate at any moment and alert the troops of his hijacking.

  “I can’t look like I don’t know what I’m doing…they’re watching.” He sized up a key, trying to gauge its shape against the contour of the hole.

  Alex placed her back against the door and grabbed hold of the lapels of his shirt, yanking him towards her. “Kiss me,” she commanded.

  Mitch had one second to catch her sultry eyes before her lips were on his.

  “Woman,” he whispered against them. “What are you doing?”

  As much as he wanted to dive into this typhoon of pleasure again, Mitch realized what she was offering. He dipped his head, his mouth close to the rim of her tank top where a patch of warm, tan flesh tempted him. To the outside spectator it would look like he was feasting on the glorious breasts heaving against his mouth.

  God help him.

  “Shift your hip slightly to the right. I’m going to try this one.”

  Alex arched her body in a display of passion as Mitch tested the key. No luck. He moved onto the next blade that seemed apt.

  “Okay, one more time.” This time when she angled her body his mouth made contact with the top curve of her breast. He growled and rubbed his lips there and heard Alex choke.

  Click.

  Mitch raised his head and kissed Alex, and then rested his forehead against hers, feeling her rushed breath. “I got it.”

  Alex set her hands flat against his chest and gently pushed him away. “Thank you,” she mouthed.

  With a jerky motion, Mitch grasped her by the arm and shoved open the door, urging her through it.

  “Alex!”

  “Doc!”

  The chorus reached a lynch mob pitch at the sight of the guerilla jostling their boss. Alex protested for them to back off, but they pressed in, a vicious horde circling for the slaughter as the door slammed shut and the sun disappeared.

  “Let go of her.” Chuck moved in close−close enough to stare into the mirrored lenses of Mitch’s sunglasses. “Now.”

  Mitch released Alex, and she was immediately consumed in the ranks of her men. But one thing he had learned about Alexandra Langley…very few could control her. She elbowed her way to the foreground and mastered a look of death to anyone who tried to touch her.

  “Look,” she spoke and the undertone ceased.

  She glanced over her shoulder and though it was not on her lips, Mitch could sense that she smiled at him. It was her cue. He slipped off the sunglasses and put them in the front pocket of his shirt. He reached up and clawed the military cap off, glad to feel the air.

  “Son of a bitch.” Chuck whistled. “The photographer is friggin alive.”

  Wes stepped up and clapped Mitch on the shoulder. “Man, we thought you were gone. You just lost one of your damn lives.”

  “Not too many of them left.” Mitch smirked. “Look, we don’t have much time. Alex?”

  Alex stepped up in front of him and her blonde crown bobbed like a walking pigeon.

  “You’re getting out of here,” she addressed the men.

  There was a whoop that could most likely be heard in Solis’s belfry. After Alex quieted everyone down, she rushed to explain the circumstances. The rebuttal was immediate.

  “No way.” Wes crossed his arms. “We leave here together.”

  “This is not a debate,” Alex challenged. “We have no choice. You know the saying−the needs of the many… I want you and you−” she pointed to Wes and Chuck, “−to get the rest of the group back to Ramonez. I will join you shortly.”

  Mitch spoke up. “She’s not going to be alone. I have my cover−”

  “Which you acquired how?” Chuck injected. “And anyway, any one of us can put on a hat and sunglasses. Ethnically speaking, I am the most likely candidate here. Hell, you have what−blue eyes mostly? And your hair is brown for Christ’s sake.”

  “Shucks, Chuck, I didn’t think you noticed.”

  “Enough,” Alex intervened. “We don’t have time for this debate. Everyone’s suspicions were right. This place is as bad as we surmised and we all need to get the hell out of here. But there has to be organization if we’re going to pull this off.”

  Zach shouldered his way to the front. His eyes were bloodshot behin
d glasses rimmed with black soot. It appeared he had cleared out a circle in each lens with his shirt. Dark curly hair looked like it had sacrificed a cowlick or two to the fire, and at the sight of him, Mitch’s stomach clenched when he recalled the near loss of this young man.

  “Can’t we just go? I mean, you have the key and all.” He nodded at Mitch. “Can’t we just open this door and leave?”

  The look in those red eyes bothered Mitch. Desperation. He knew the facet well.

  “It has to be done in order,” he spoke with a calm inflection. “I have to open that door and walk out first. You can’t trust these men. If you walk out of here they will perceive it as a breach. They are liable to shoot you first and then ask me questions later.”

  “You’re just a photographer,” Zach cried. “A museum grunt. What the heck do you know?”

  Ouch.

  “I was a war photojournalist,” Mitch said as too many graphic images flooded his head. Every damn shot he ever took, and the ones he did not take remained stored in his brain like the ultimate backup drive. And no matter how many times he tried to format it, the images remained. “You learn. You learn fast and you learn the hard way about outfits like this.”

  Mitch looked at Zach, trying to trap the wild eyes into compliance, but they made a circuit around the barracks, alighting on him only briefly before jerking back towards the door. On the next contact, Mitch added, “I can’t roll out a scroll of credentials, Zach. All I can do is to ask you to trust me.”

  Except for a cough and the unmistakable crunch of tires as a Jeep passed by outside, there was no sound. The few men who had settled onto the edge of their cots now rose and crowded in. Tim came forward, resting a hand on Zach’s shoulder, whispering, “Come on, man. Sit down.”

  Zach flinched at the contact and yanked his shoulder away. Before anyone could react, he reached the door and hauled it open. Mitch’s fingers swooped to catch air as he just missed the young man’s elbow. In a blinding strobe effect, sunlight flooded the room. Mitch heard Alex’s panicked plea beside him.

  “Zach, wait!”

  Two feet outside the door, Zach paused, looking around like a child that found himself in the middle of an empty circus tent. A chorus of yells exploded from alternating directions, as if piped in from a surround sound system. The staccato footfalls of running men could be felt. Mitch sensed movement and seized Alex’s arm before she could reach the door.