On the Move

by Aislinn Kearns

  “We should do that every few hours, but I don’t think we’ll need to again before we fly out this afternoon.”

  Jessica blew out a breath of relief. Not that she hated staring at Mike’s naked form. But it was embarrassing to be mutually semi-naked with a man you had no intention of sleeping with. Even now, a strange wall lay between them, which they’d both erected to keep the boundaries in place.

  Just as well. He was presumptuous, and a little rude. She didn’t need to make friends with him, or lust after him, or anything other than rely on him to get her home safe.

  And once she was home, she wouldn’t ever see him again.

  Chapter 4

  They reached the airport at fifteen hundred hours. Perfect timing.

  Mike had kept their food and water breaks to a minimum. He hadn’t needed the rest, but Jessica had struggled. Sweat dampened every inch of her, sticking her clothes to her skin. She kept stumbling, whether from lack of food, injury, or an unfamiliarity with the terrain, he didn’t know. But he’d pushed her anyway, even if guilt nagged at him.

  It was best to get her out of the country as soon as possible. One day of discomfort wouldn’t matter much in the scheme of things. And she had put on a brave face, a fact he admired.

  When he’d been told he had to rescue a senator’s daughter—a Vanderslice at that—he’d expected a spoiled, difficult woman. Instead, she hadn’t complained once, even as he’d pushed her to her limits. And this was after she’d already spent a week in captivity, where God knew what had happened to her.

  He should have known she wasn’t the high-maintenance type. After all, she’d been doing charity work in countries like this for years. Her mother had announced this proudly when Mike had questioned why she was in Zolego in the first place. Jessica would be used to harder labor than the average senator’s daughter.

  Jessica crept closer to the lush ferns they hid behind. He tore his eyes from her and followed her gaze to the airport beyond. Though calling it an airport was a bit of a stretch.

  Really, it was a short landing strip carved out of the encroaching jungle. It wasn’t well-maintained. The greenery pushed in on all sides and littered the runway, such as it was, with vines and sticks and leaves.

  It was lucky Charlie was such a good pilot, or he’d have difficulty landing the POS plane he’d rented for them.

  What passed for a control tower stood at the end of the runway, about forty feet from where Mike and Jessica crouched. A staircase ran the side of the hut, leading to a room about one and a half stories above the ground. It didn’t even come close to reaching the height of the trees surrounding it, so Mike wasn’t sure why they’d bothered. Surely it wouldn’t have helped them see incoming planes any better. It looked about three seconds away from falling over, the bamboo and other wood sagging under the weight of whoever was inside. It swayed lightly, too, making Mike think the people were moving around.

  The control tower was only big enough for about four people to sit uncomfortably, so there couldn’t be many of them. These guys must have been the ones Charlie had made the deal with to be allowed to land. He hoped they were as good as their word.

  Charlie would arrive at any moment.

  Something nudged his shoulder and Mike glanced over to see Jessica’s expectant face.

  “Well?” she asked.

  “Well, what?”

  “What’s next?”

  “We wait,” he said simply. “Charlie is due within the hour. I don’t want to head to the tower and press our luck with whoever is in there. I don’t know exactly what Charlie promised them, but he did say they were hesitant to help an American.”

  “No surprise,” she said. “This is rebel territory. If they knew what he was flying in for, they wouldn’t be happy.”

  A cold chill crept over the back of Mike’s neck, a hint of foreboding despite the oppressive heat beneath the trees. It was an intuition he always listened to. He wasn’t sure whether to hope Charlie had warned these guys about Jessica or not.

  Hopefully they’d get away with bringing her here, or at least have a chance to negotiate with these rebels, or bribe them. Whatever it took to get Jessica home safely.

  “When Charlie comes, he’ll take us across the border into Colombia,” Mike told Jessica. “From there, he’ll return the plane, while the two of us will charter a jet to take us back stateside.”

  She nodded. “A shower first, though, I hope,” she said.

  “Hmmm,” Mike answered, mind immediately landing on an image of Jessica in the shower. Naked. Water sliding over that perfect skin. His blood rushed south.

  She plucked at the tank top hewing to her skin. The movement drew Mike’s eyes, landing on the gaping top where a hint of her breasts were visible.

  He’d already seen those in more detail, though her sensible sports bra had hidden most of her assets. That hadn’t stopped Mike from paying attention, no matter how much he tried not to.

  Her figure was slim, like a runner, but with naturally ample breasts. She was fairly tall, though still a head shorter than his own six foot four. She was strong, too, with more defined muscles than he’d expected. It was clear she worked to keep herself in good shape, another fact that shouldn’t have surprised him. Her delicate facial features belied the strength in her body and her soul.

  He swore to himself that he’d been genuinely checking for chigoes earlier, not faking an excuse to see Jessica mostly naked. But he was a red-blooded man who appreciated a stunning woman when he saw one. It was primal, and irresistible. He was also an excellent poker player, so she never needed to know he’d struggled to keep his eyes off her curves.

  “I wouldn’t mind a shower myself,” he murmured. A cold one that would help get this ridiculous lust under control. He was a grown man for fuck’s sake. And he shouldn’t be fantasizing over her like the grossest virgin teen, no matter how attractive she was.

  Besides, of all the women to lust after, this was the wrong one. It was clear she came from a long line of people who worked no hard labor. Her skin was too smooth, not tanned and work-roughened like his. They were from two very different worlds.

  A hand waved in front of his face, and Mike blinked back to reality. Had he been staring at her breasts? He glanced up with some trepidation to meet her annoyed gaze, one eyebrow raised in a way that told him she knew exactly where his mind had gone. Shit. Busted.

  He gave her an unrepentant grin. “Sorry,” he told her, knowing he probably didn’t sound sorry at all. But he was. Kinda.

  She rolled her eyes. “Keep your eyes to yourself. You staring is bad enough, but it’s worse because you can’t listen to what I’m saying when you do.”

  Heat flooded his cheeks, and he was suddenly grateful for the layer of thick mud over his face so she didn’t see. She was right. Staring at her like she was an object was bad enough. But to do so in a way that meant he couldn’t read her lips was so much worse, like he was reducing her to an object without a voice.

  “Sorry,” he said again, this time more sincerely.

  She nodded, her face smoothing of its annoyance. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry about the distraction. I seriously can’t wait to have a shower and get some clean clothes.”

  Had the rebels let her bathe when they’d held her captive? He opened his mouth to ask, but her gaze snapped to something over his shoulder. He turned, expecting the rebels, but instead it was a small plane in the distance.

  Mike checked his watch. Sure enough, Charlie was right on time.

  He stood, preparing to run for the plane when it landed. But movement near the tower caught his attention. Three men stumbled out of the room and boosted each other onto the roof of the tower.

  Mike had a brief moment of confusion—would they signal Charlie in?—when he saw it.

  A gun.

  And not just any gun, but a machine gun, mounted to the roof.

  One of the men hauled the barrel until it pointed in Charlie’s direction.

  Mike r
an before conscious thought even penetrated, heart racing with fear. He couldn’t let them shoot Charlie out of the sky. And he had no way of warning Charlie what was about to happen. Shit, why had he believed they’d let him land and take Jessica out of the country? She was their meal ticket to a better life. He’d trusted Charlie had known what he was doing, as he would every member of Duncan’s team, but the guy had royally screwed up if they were seconds away from machine gunning his plane into the jungle.

  Mike reached the base of the stairs as gunfire flashed above him.

  He sprinted up the steps three at a time, ignoring the way the structure swayed under his determined movements. If the whole thing collapsed, at least they’d have to stop shooting.

  When he got to the top, Mike raised the semi-automatic he’d stolen from one of the rebels back at camp. They likely hadn’t heard him over the rattle of the machine gun, a sound he remembered well enough.

  He squeezed the trigger. One of the three rebels dropped, the one who had been standing closest to the edge of the roof. He toppled over and landed hard on the landing next to Mike. The wood collapsed slightly under the weight, and it shifted alarmingly beneath Mike’s boots.

  The rebel’s companion—the one feeding the machine gun—spun around in shock. His eyes widened as he caught sight of Mike.

  He opened his mouth to warn the third man, but Mike dropped him with a bullet to the head before he could say anything. He fell backward, disappearing out of sight, likely landing on the ground below.

  That left rebel number three. Adrenaline surged through Mike’s system. Due to the angle of the roof and where he stood, Mike couldn’t actually see the final man. He’d have to get on that roof if he wanted to take him out.

  Thankfully, Charlie’s plane was still in the sky, circling beyond the machine gun’s range. There wasn’t any damage to the hull, and Mike grinned. Charlie sure was a lucky son of a bitch, and a hell of a flier. Under his touch, the plane was a lot more nimble than the cumbersome machine gun still spewing bullet its way.

  Mike eyed the distance to the roof. He could grab it, no problem. But he’d be vulnerable to any attack as he pulled himself up, since he couldn’t keep his weapon trained on the shooter while hauling himself up two-handed.

  Shit.

  The railing around the landing didn’t look like it would hold Mike’s weight, but he didn’t have much choice. It would at least give him enough extra height to get eyes on the shooter.

  He stepped over the body of the dead man and pushed his foot against the railing. It gave, but it didn’t crack. It would have to do.

  With his left hand, he grabbed the lip of the roof. With his right, he kept a strong grip on the gun. Then, he planted his foot and pulled himself up as softly as he could. The rail held, and raised him enough to see the machine gun operator, who still had his back to Mike.

  Mike leaned against the wall for balance and put his left hand on the gun, steadying his aim. He released a breath and pulled the trigger, long enough for a burst of bullets to escape the gun and bury deep into the shooter’s back. The man slumped forward over the weapon and immediately went still.

  Mike breathed a sigh of relief, but his blood still ran hot from the firefight. Gingerly, he stepped down from the rickety rail. The landing wasn’t much stronger, but he it held his weight better.

  He peeked into the room the men had come from. No more rebels. The tiny space only held three chairs and a table. On the table sat a two-way radio and an abandoned game of cards.

  Now that the threat had been eliminated, he turned back to the stairs, intending to collect Jessica from the rainforest where he’d left her.

  Instead, he found her waiting at the bottom of the staircase. He scowled at her. Why the hell had she run towards danger? Her mouth moved, but she was too far for him to read her lips accurately.

  He waved her up, and she trotted up the steps immediately, her steps far softer than his since they didn’t sway the structure.

  “What the hell are you doing?” he growled.

  “I thought I could help,” she replied.

  “In a firefight?” he replied skeptically.

  She shrugged. “It’s possible. I was hardly going to be left behind while you went into battle for me.” He eyes strayed to the dead man on the landing. “Though did you really have to kill them?”

  His mouth pressed into a thin line. “Since it was a choice between them and my friend? Yes.”

  She narrowed her gaze but didn’t contradict him. Her eyes, however, told him she was sad for the men who had seconds ago been shooting at one of her rescuers. Where did this woman’s loyalty lie? And why was she so sympathetic to the group that had kidnapped her and held her hostage for a full week?

  A terrible suspicion wormed its way into his brain. Surely she hadn’t staged her own kidnapping to extort money from her parents? Maybe she was in deep with the rebels, and wanted to support their cause financially, but hadn’t had the money to do so. Or maybe she hadn’t wanted to spend her own money and had figured her parents had deeper pockets.

  If the kidnapping was staged, why had she been tied up when he’d arrived? Surely they wouldn’t have known he was coming. Or maybe they had. Maybe he’d messed up, and made more noise than he’d thought. Or maybe she’d suspected her parents would send someone instead of paying the ransom, and she hadn’t wanted to take any chances and give the game away.

  Or maybe there were spies in the capital who had told the rebels of Mike and Charlie’s arrival. These days there weren’t too many visitors to Zolego, given the political instability of the country. Two American men—clearly military—would have stood out in the small capital city.

  He eyed Jessica. He didn’t want to believe she’d trick her parents like that. But she’d hinted earlier they weren’t close. Maybe this was even some kind of twisted revenge scheme?

  “How were you kidnapped?” Mike asked.

  She blinked at him, clearly surprised by his question. “You don’t know?”

  He shook his head. “The ransom video the rebels sent didn’t give specifics, only that they had you.”

  “What does it have to do with anything?”

  “Just humor me.”

  “They took me from the orphanage where I volunteer with the children. I teach English there. One day, about twenty rebels burst in and demanded I go with them. I refused. They put a gun to the heads of some of the children in my class and said if I didn’t go with them, they’d kill the children. I couldn’t allow that, so I went.”

  The mix of detachment in her words and the tears in her eyes made Mike inclined to believe her story. He’d seen enough trauma survivors to know the signs. Distancing themselves emotionally from the event while still relieving its every moment. If she was really faking it, she was an Oscar-worthy actress.

  But still. She was awfully fond of these rebels for a woman who had supposedly experienced a nightmare at their hands.

  “And then what happened?” he asked.

  “They took me to somewhere on the outskirts of the city. Held me in a house while they recorded the ransom video. The next day, they drove into the rainforest until there was no more road. We hiked for a day before we reached the camp where you found me.”

  He continued to stare at her, parsing through her words to discover the lie. But he couldn’t find it. The scenario sounded plausible. Her recounting of the rebels putting a gun to the heads of children made his teeth clench in anger, but she didn’t seem to harbor the same resentment.

  “And yet you still don’t want the rebels to die, even though they did all this to you.”

  She sucked in a deep breath and straightened her spine. “That’s right. I don’t blame desperate people for doing desperate things. They need money to overthrow the government and save their people. I was one of the few ways they could get it. I understand, even if I hate that it was me they chose.”

  “Doing bad things for a good cause is still doing a bad thing. If the rebel
s continue down this path, they’ll be no better than the asshole they are trying to depose.”

  “You’re right,” she said. “And I don’t condone what they did. I hope they never do it again. But I understand why they did it, why they felt like they had no other choice.” She hesitated. “I don’t want any more people killed.”

  He let out a long breath. “Fine. Doesn’t matter, anyway. We’re out of here.”

  He turned and strode into the room, towards the radio. It wasn’t the time or the place to debate politics with a woman like her. It wasn’t ever the time. She clearly had a different view of the world than he did, most likely because she’d grown up with a life of privilege as a politician’s daughter. Had she witnessed her mother do bad things for a good cause? Had it impacted her in ways she wasn’t really aware of? He couldn’t be sure.

  That was if she wasn’t secretly working with the rebels for her own reasons. He wasn’t convinced she was entirely innocent of that.

  Mike pushed the thought out of his mind and flicked the radio dials until he reached the wavelength Charlie should be operating under. Then, he waved Jessica over and shoved the received at her.

  “This should be Charlie. You’ll have to talk to him. Let him know it’s safe to land.” He showed her how to use the device, annoyed he couldn’t do it himself. But without lip reading or his voice-to-text machine, he was useless in situations like this.

  “Hello, is that Charlie?” Jessica asked into the radio. After a moment, her face cleared. “Yes, Mike says it’s safe to land…Yes, see you soon.”

  Jessica turned to him with a smile. “He’s coming in now.”

  Ah shit. Surely a woman with a smile like that wouldn’t be devious enough to extort money from her own parents. It was too pure, too real.

  Or maybe that was his dick talking because he found her attractive. He didn’t want to have come all this way to rescue a woman who didn’t need rescuing. He wanted to believe she was exactly as she seemed—a rich woman with a big heart, who saw the best in everybody. But Mike had lived a cynical life, and it had served him well so far. Few people had pleasantly surprised him in his years on this planet. Many had lived down to his low expectations.