The worst of it was that there was nothing to distract her, and she was bored. She couldn’t talk to Mike—he couldn’t read her lips from where she was behind him. When she’d go for a walk or to the gym back home, she’d always listen to a podcast or an audiobook to keep her entertained.
The rainforest was beautiful, and unique. There were millions of species of plants and animals surrounding her. But after a while, the greenery faded into an overwhelming blur.
Her mind darted between her week in captivity, to her uncertain future, and back again. Sometimes her brain gave her a reprieve by focusing on Mike—mostly on his ass, if she was honest—which was a nice distraction from her circular thoughts.
Finally, Mike called a halt as the light dimmed. Jessica glanced around the campsite he’d chosen. It was a small area—too small to even be called a clearing—surrounded by trees and chest-height ferns. Beyond the trees, to her right, was a pond. She couldn’t see in the fading light, but she suspected it was connected to a river farther along, because the water was temptingly clear.
“I’m going for a swim,” she announced, eyes riveted on the pond. Anticipation thrummed through her. Finally, she could properly clean off all the dirt and sweat that had accumulated on her skin.
She took a step towards the water, eyes focused on the pond as if she approached the gates of heaven. Mike’s arm shot out, stopping her in her tracks. She glanced at him in question.
“No, you won’t,” he told her.
She narrowed her eyes. “Why not?” She wanted that swim so bad.
“This kind of place is perfect for piranhas. Leeches. Even electric eels. There are probably candiru in the water, too.”
“What the hell is a candiru?”
“It’s an Amazonian catfish. About this big,” he said, holding his fingers about an inch apart.
“Well, that doesn’t sound so bad.”
“Apparently they’ve been known to swim up people’s urethras and get stuck. They’re barbed.”
Jessica sucked in a breath as a pang of sympathy pain struck her. Just like that, she had no desire to go swimming anymore. She could weep in frustration. So close to true cleanliness and yet so far.
“That sounds unpleasant,” she said, stepping away from the water.
“Yeah. I’ve never seen it happen, but it sure isn’t worth the risk.”
Jessica shook her head enthusiastically. “Is everything in this jungle trying to kill us?” she lamented.
“Probably best to assume that, yes.”
Jessica made a face. Well, they’d survived this far. She could survive another few days of misery if it meant getting to safety.
“I’ll boil us some water,” he said in an apologetic tone. “I know it’s not the same, but it’ll keep us clean enough for now.”
“I suppose it means my shower—when I do get one—will be better the longer I wait.” She said it on a sigh, wistful and not remotely convincing. Damn it, she really wanted to be properly clean.
She helped Mike take the hammocks off his back. He hung his bag on a tree notch, eyeing the ground suspiciously.
“Leeches,” he explained, when he caught her watching him.
She shuddered.
Mike set up the camp, hanging the hammocks, starting the fire, and numerous other tasks Jessica couldn’t decipher. Jessica dug through his pack and pulled out the pot he’d used to boil water the night before. She filled it with water, careful where she put her feet on the edge of the pond. Leeches, he’d said. Piranhas. Those gross catfish things.
She never wanted to come back to the rainforest again. During her travels, she’d spent plenty of times in tropical and sub-tropical countries. But she’d always stuck to the cities, and their outskirts. Places with some civilization, at least. The orphanage she’d been volunteering at had been outside of the city, but it had been accessible by road, and surrounded by cleared land. Not deadly things that could kill her given the slightest chance.
Until the rebels had kidnapped her, she’d never been this deep into a rainforest. Now that she’d had a taste of it, she had no intention of returning.
Once the fire burned, Jessica put the pot of water over it to boil. Mike disappeared for a few minutes and came back with a dead parrot.
“Please tell me that’s not dinner,” she said, eyeing the brightly-colored feathers.
“It’s dinner. We need the protein.”
“No arguments, but…a parrot?” She’d wanted meat, but she hadn’t even known parrots were edible.
“What’s wrong with the parrot? You’re not a vegetarian, are you?”
She shook her head. “It’s just so pretty.” Not so much now that it was dead, but when she’d seen parrots exactly like that flying above her that morning, it hadn’t occurred to her that she’d have to eat one.
“Pigs are cute, and we eat those.”
She side-eyed him. “You think pigs are cute?”
“Don’t you?”
“Piglets, maybe.”
“Well, I like them.”
She grinned at the defensive note in his voice. So the man had a soft spot for pigs? That was strangely adorable.
“You won’t notice the parrot once I take the feathers off. Don’t worry.”
She sighed, but agreed. She needed to eat, and she couldn’t be squeamish. As long as he wasn’t feeding her snakes, she’d suck it up and deal with it.
The water finally boiled. “Can I use this to wash?” she asked.
Mike nodded. “You can grab the soap from my pack.”
She dug her hand into the bag, searching for the soap she’d used the night before. She dug a little deeper, and her hand encountered something she couldn’t identify. She tugged it out, only to find it was a coin she didn’t recognize.
She turned back to Mike. He’d already plucked the feathers from the parrot and was preparing to roast it on a spit above the fire.
She waved to catch his eye and he glanced up. “What’s this?” she asked.
He frowned in confusion before his gaze shifted to the coin in her hand. “Just my lucky coin.” His gaze shuttered, as if there was more to the story that he didn’t want to tell.
“I wouldn’t have pegged you as the superstitious type,” Jessica commented.
He shrugged. “I think all soldiers are, a little. If by some miracle you survive a firefight, or a bomb blast, you want to believe it was through something you can control, rather than it being pure luck. Yourself, your team, what socks you wore that day. The photo of the girl you left back home. Anything.”
Jessica swallowed. “Did you have a girl you left back home?” The question popped out against her will, and she wasn’t even sure she wanted the answer. For all she knew, he still had a girl he’d left back home.
“No,” he answered. “Didn’t seem right to make someone wait for me. So I stuck to short-term things any time I was back stateside.”
She nodded. That, Jessica understood. She spent most of her time volunteering in foreign countries. Sometimes, in moments of weakness, she thought it might be nice to have someone to return home to, or travel with. But what man would put up with a girlfriend or wife that was gone more than half the year? Only one man she’d liked enough to suggest he come with her, but he’d refused.
“But you’ve been out for a while, now. You must be stateside for much longer stretches.”
He nodded. “Sure. I guess I haven’t met the woman who makes me want to settle down, yet. Between my recovery and new job, I haven’t had a lot of time to think about relationships. “
Her heart lurched. She didn’t know why she should care whether or not Mike was the settling down type, but his words still affected her. If he was a short-term guy, that should work out for her. She only did short term, these days. And a fling suited her fine.
But the ache in her heart didn’t disappear when she reminded herself of that.
She searched for a change in conversation topic, landing on the coin still in her hand. �
��So you believe this coin got you through the war?”
His lips twisted. “It didn’t hurt.” There was a story there. One of pain. But he clearly had no intention of telling her about it.
She slipped the coin back into the bag and pulled out the soap. “I’ll be on the other side of the ferns,” she told him.
He nodded, then stood to carry the water for her.
“You don’t have to do that.”
She didn’t know whether he didn’t see her statement or if he ignored her, but either way he didn’t reply. He placed the water down and then turned to her. The light from the fire barely reached them, and she wondered if he could still see her lips.
“If you see any more snakes, I won’t hear you scream,” he said. “So keep your eyes open.” There was a teasing light in his eyes, now. Clearly, he’d moved on from whatever had caused the shadows in his eyes at the sight of the coin.
He returned to camp, leaving her in darkness. She washed hurriedly, her imagination providing plenty of images of snakes and other creepy crawlies coming at her from the darkness. The light from the fire wasn’t enough behind the ferns. She should’ve brought Mike’s flashlight.
She threw her clothes back on and pushed back through the ferns and into the warm glow of the fire. The cold shiver down her spine from the unnerving darkness quickly warmed once she crouched near the flames.
“Your turn,” she told Mike.
He nodded and disappeared in the direction she’d come from, returning not long after with damp hair. He threw the leftover water back into the pond and scooped up some more. He checked the bird.
“Not long now. We’ll boil more water once it’s done.”
Her stomach grumbled and she nodded.
Mike picked up some papaya from his lap and squeezed in onto the roasting parrot, as if he’d already done it a few times while she wasn’t paying attention.
“Wait, papaya flavored parrot?” she asked.
He grinned. “It tenderizes tough meat.”
“Huh. You learn something new every day.” Jessica wasn’t a great cook. Her parents had always had a cook to prepare their meals for them, and Jessica had never been allowed in the kitchen to learn. As an adult, she spent so little time at home, she never bothered.
While they waited for the parrot to finish cooking, they talked of other, less personal things. The way Mike stared at her lips as she talked sent a tingle down her spine that, this time, wasn’t from fear.
There was something about the intensity of his gaze, the heat in his eyes, that warmed her from the inside out.
But a jungle wasn’t the place for a fling.
Was it?
Chapter 7
Mike woke first this time.
Jessica still slumbered peacefully on the hammock opposite him, and he didn’t have the heart to wake her. She needed the rest. He’d pushed her hard for two days and she hadn’t complained, despite the fact that she must be hurting. He admired that.
Admired her.
But he didn’t need to be thinking about that. About her strength, and bravery. About her beauty. It’s not like anything could happen between them while they were in the jungle. And after? Well, maybe a quick fling. Something to burn away the chemistry between them. But nothing more. Never anything more.
Mike wasn’t the settling down type. He’d never been tempted, not really. And maybe that was because he never got to know a woman well enough to think about a future with her, or maybe that’s the way he was built.
Jessica was the wrong kind of woman to practice relationships with. They were from such different worlds. Her, from one of the richest families in America, and him from one of the poorest. He’d never fit in with her life.
Not that he wanted to try.
Mike shook off the circular, pointless thoughts. He needed to concentrate on getting Jessica into Colombia safely, and nothing else mattered.
It worried him that they hadn’t seen any signs of pursuit. They’d been pushing hard, but the rebels had more manpower than him and Jessica. Surely they couldn’t be too far behind. Had they given up hope of grabbing Jessica and the money she represented? Or had the rebels found another way to track them?
He couldn’t rely on the idea that they’d given up, that they’d let him and Jessica cross the border without putting up a fight. So he’d have to operate under the assumption that the rebels were still coming for them—he just didn’t know which direction it would be from.
Maybe…he glanced at the tree towering above him, the one with his hammock tied to it. The low branches meant it wouldn’t be too difficult to climb, and it might help him get a better lay of the land.
He didn’t waste any time, vaulting into the lower branches and hauling himself up. He climbed, ignoring the ache in his shoulders from carrying his heavy pack, until he was as high as the tree would take him. He wasn’t near the canopy, but the trunk smoothed out above him, making it impossible to climb without gear.
Now that he was higher, the lush undergrowth no longer restricted his view. The trunks of the surrounding trees meant he couldn’t see too far into the distance, but he could at least be certain none of the rebels were nearby. The only movement came from birds and other animals, above and below.
He turned the opposite way, to the direction they headed in. Still not a lot of visibility, but a river snaked in the distance. Hopefully it would turn away, so they wouldn’t have to cross it.
Mike stayed up there a few moments longer, enjoying the view. Then, unable to delay much longer, he shimmied down the tree.
Jessica still hadn’t woken, and Mike found his gaze repeatedly drawn to her as he readied breakfast. She was stunningly beautiful, of course, but he preferred her wide awake and with flashing eyes. Even if she was kicking him in the nuts.
He grinned at the memory. Yeah, she had fire. And he liked that in a woman.
A little too much. He’d almost told her the story of the coin last night. And he’d never told anyone that story. It was too personal, and still cut deep into his soul. Every time he remembered that day it made his chest squeeze tight with anger and grief and guilt and a horrible kind of relief. Too complicated to explain to anyone, including himself.
When breakfast was ready, Mike strode over to Jessica. He hesitated a moment before waking her, gaze roaming over her face, drinking her in. Then, he shook himself, and squeezed her shoulder.
Her eyes snapped open. Worry quickly turned into a soft smile when she saw it was him. The expression was a punch to his gut, and he could imagine her giving him that same smile every morning, maybe after a long night of lovemaking.
“Hey,” she said, then yawned.
“Hey,” he said, swallowing thickly. Forcing his brain to focus.
“Breakfast?” she asked hopefully.
He nodded and stepped away from her. She rose, stretched, headed to the bathroom behind the ferns, and then returned as he was setting out more fruit for her.
“I hate to say it, but I miss the parrot,” she told him, eyeing the papaya and guava.
He grinned. “I’ll catch some more for dinner tonight. But, for now, we have to get moving.”
She nodded and straightened her spine, eating the fruit and nuts without complaint. Once they were ready—the hammocks once again strapped to his back—they set off through the dense undergrowth.
Mike kept away from the river he’d seen, but followed its path. Since the canopy broke above the water, the sunlight made the plants grow more lushly close to the water’s edge. He didn’t want to waste precious energy hacking through thicker undergrowth if he didn’t have to. The damp ground was perfect for leeches, too, and he didn’t relish the idea of dealing with those. He made sure both he and Jessica had their shin guards strapped on tightly, so no creatures would crawl up their pant legs and make a home.
The stream they were following eventually joined with a much larger river—the opposite of what he’d been hoping for. He paused on the riverbank and surveyed the
rushing water. Thirty feet across, with a steep bank of plants on the other side. Not ideal. Not even close.
Jessica tapped his shoulder. “Will we have to cross this?”
“Yes.”
“How? Swim it?”
He shook his head. “Could be crocodiles in there. Piranhas. Leeches. And the water is deceptively fast. I’d bet if we jumped in we’d be carried straight downstream, the opposite of where we need to go.”
“So how will we do it?”
“That’s what I’m figuring out.” If they had three people, he might risk it. That way they could swim across one at a time, with a rope or vine around the two on shore, anchoring them. But with only the two of them—and the possibility of deadly animals in the water, Mike was loathe to risk it.
She tilted her head. “Huh.”
“What?” he asked.
“That’s the first time you haven’t had a plan.”
He shrugged. He wouldn’t admit to her that he’d been making everything up as he went along, ever since the airport. He’d counted on Charlie flying them out of there. He hadn’t expected to be traipsing through the Amazon for a week, with barely any supplies.
“Can you build a boat?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I mean, I could probably build a raft. But it could easily get swept away with the current. And if there are crocodiles in there, I doubt anything I could make would win in a fight against their teeth.”
“Oh,” she said, eyes wide.
“Are you a strong swimmer?” he asked.
She wrinkled her nose. “I can’t outswim a crocodile, if that’s what you’re asking.”
He grinned. “Just want to know what I’m working with.”
“I’m okay. I can do some laps, no problem. But like I said, I was a softball girl in college.”
He eyed her. “I wouldn’t have expected that.” He didn’t know why he said that. She’d already told him she’d chosen softball to annoy her parents. But the strange feelings for her that he was unable to exorcise—no matter how hard he tried—were making him contrary.
He wanted to find a reason to dislike her. It would make everything far easier. Then, he wouldn’t miss her when they inevitably parted ways after the jungle. But so far, the only thing he didn’t like about her was her wealth, so he focused on that, hoping it would break this spell.
On the Move Page 8
