Terms of Attraction

by Kylie Brant

  “How long did he stay this time?”

  “Long enough to convince her to take me to the hospital for a tissue match. Seems he had another son. Two years older than me, with the wife he must have been married to even when I was conceived. A real prince, that guy is. John, his son, had liver cancer. His parents weren’t matches. He had no other siblings.”

  But he’d had a half brother. The sick realization filled her. She could already imagine what had brought Samuelson back to the woman and child he’d abandoned. And it hadn’t been some long-awaited familial devotion. “He convinced your mother to have you tested.”

  “He didn’t have to. By the time he was done with the whole sad story—a story that glossed right over the details of the wife he’d lied to her about—my mother offered. I didn’t really know what to expect but I went along with it. And I was a match.”

  Something swooped low, almost touching her shoulder, and Ava ducked defensively. Although there were few things she hated as much as bats, her mind was elsewhere. “So he should be grateful to you. The surgery was successful?”

  “At first. And I can see now, looking back, that Samuelson was already edging his way out of our lives as John looked like he was recovering. But months later his body rejected the transplant. He died a year after the operation.”

  “He was in and out of our lives after that. My mother grew increasingly distraught when she wouldn’t hear from him for months at a time.” His voice was heavy with irony. “Of course he never left contact information. Watch out here.”

  She nearly missed the shift in conversation. It was at the last second that she ducked beneath the heavy vine he was holding out of the way for her. “What brought him back after that? I mean…”

  “After he’d abandoned us once?” Cael was quiet for a moment, wondering why he was bothering to tell her all this. It was ancient history. Belaboring it had never solved anything. “I suppose for a short time he entertained notions of molding his remaining son into a copy of himself. That didn’t happen.” He’d been a smart-ass kid with a mile wide chip on his shoulder toward the man who consistently wreaked havoc in their lives. The more Samuelson pushed, the more Cael had resisted. And it wasn’t long before they discovered that they hated each other’s guts.

  “He left for good the summer I graduated. I was determined to join the navy. He was just as determined to pull strings and get me into West Point. My mother sided with him. But I was eighteen and didn’t need parental permission. I left anyway. He never went back to my mother after that.” And Cael would always blame the man for his mother’s eventual suicide. The familiar bitterness lodged in his throat, threatening to choke him.

  He cleared his throat. “He resurfaced several times over the years, mostly to throw a wrench into whatever plans I had going on.” He’d damn near kept Cael out of the SEALs. Would have, if his commanding officer hadn’t shared Cael’s disdain for bureaucratic bullshit. “He was actually pretty high in military intelligence at the time. When he decided to tamper, he could usually get results.”

  The man had managed, over the years, to get Cael assigned to more than his share of high-risk missions. He wasn’t sure what he’d been hoping for, that he’d screw up or get himself killed. But he’d never minded in one sense. That was why he’d become a SEAL. And he’d gotten experience fast, built a reputation for being a solid soldier more swiftly than most. Cael figured his survival was the best way to get back at the old man.

  “He contacted me once more, after I didn’t reenlist last time. Tried to get me to dish dirt on the military commanders I’d had. Missions I’d been involved in that hadn’t gone according to plan. I told him to go…” He amended the sentence in the last possible moment. “To forget it. He offered to get me a job working military intelligence reporting to him. I turned him down flat. Told him I was going to start my own company.”

  “When did he join DHS?”

  “Almost at its inception. And believe me, his position gives him plenty of opportunity to make trouble. We’ve seen his hand in more than a couple of deadly turns an assignment has taken. He wouldn’t mind seeing me dead. But barring that, he wants to see me ruined or in prison. The way he sees it, the wrong son died. He won’t be happy until he’s erased a part of his past that he doesn’t care to remember.” Their voices were low and wouldn’t travel far. But he never stopped assessing the jungle around them.

  Their surroundings offered ample hiding places, but he didn’t expect to see rebel guards posted this far out. Not until they got closer to the camp would there be a need for an outer perimeter.

  They walked for a couple more hours, mostly in silence, stopping only to check the map and coordinates. He hadn’t meant to tell her the whole pathetic story of how Samuelson had screwed over his family. But maybe now she’d recognize the man for what he was. Realize that returning to the States carried its own kind of danger. One he still hadn’t figured a way for her to avoid if she continued to refuse the one plan he did have.

  And there was no use asking if she’d changed her mind about that. If there was one thing he’d learned about the woman, it was that she was immovable once she’d made a decision.

  “Let’s take a water break.” He drank from his water bottle and figured she was digging in her pack for hers. But instead she pulled out a small bottle and started spraying the contents on her hands. Rubbing them on her face and neck.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Reapplying bug repellent.”

  He nodded. His own hadn’t provided as much protection as he’d hoped against the mosquitoes and flies they’d encountered. “Mud’s probably the best protection. We can scoop up handfuls of it and rub it on any exposed area. Not too appealing, but it works.”

  “I prefer my repellent. I haven’t been bitten yet.”

  That stopped him in midswallow. “You haven’t been bitten?”

  “Nope.”

  “Gimme that.”

  She handed over the bottle and he brought it to his nose, sniffed suspiciously. “What is this? It smells all girly.”

  “It may have escaped your attention,” she drawled, “but I am female.”

  “Believe me, that has never escaped my attention.” There were many times over the last several days when he would have given anything to forget it. He sniffed again, wrestled briefly between the two choices, shrugged. What the hell? It would wear off. He spread a liberal amount on himself before handing it back to her. “Give me the flashlight, would you?”

  When she did so, he switched it on aiming the beam at the map he’d spread out on the jungle floor. “It’s nearly dawn.”

  “What?”

  He heard the surprise in Ava’s voice. The secondary canopy of the trees would block out any light that managed to filter through, at least until full day. “It’s four-thirty. And by my estimates we’re only an hour away from the camp. We’ll need to be more careful from here on in. No talking. I’m guessing they’ll have guards posted on the outer perimeter maybe as far as an hour from the camp.” If the president was being held there, more precautions would be taken than normal. “We need to do a recon before we go any further.”

  “And exactly what does that entail?”

  He grinned at the suspicion in her tone. “How are you at climbing trees?”

  She was silent behind him for a moment. Then, “As long as it’s free of howler monkeys, I can manage.”

  He didn’t tell her the monkeys were the least of her worries. It was the snakes and slug rats she’d need to watch out for.

  “You’ll get a visual from above. Once we’re in sight of the camp I’ll get closer on the ground. We’ll use the whisper mics to communicate. We need to get a visual of the layout and more importantly, location of all posted guards and their scheduled rotation. Get a count of the hostages and the soldiers.”

  A thought then had him cursing. “I only brought one pair of field glasses.”

  “I packed a pair.”

  A measure o
f respect tangled with pride filtered through. Of course. She’d probably packed as carefully as he had.

  He checked the trees carefully, continuing on until he found one that would work. It had to be large enough that it towered above the secondary canopy, or she wouldn’t be able to see anything anyway. One with stout vines would be best, so she could walk her way up the side of the trunk to the limbs.

  “I’ll hold your rifle.”

  She slipped the strap off her neck and handed it to him while donning the binoculars she’d taken out of the pack she left at the bottom of the tree.

  Cael laid the rifle against a nearby tree and grabbed a vine, yanked on it testingly. “It should hold your weight. But take this with you.” He handed her the sheath containing the large bladed knife he’d been using to clear their path when they’d started that night.

  Ava looked at him and then at him. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What do I need that for?”

  “It’s just a precaution in case you disturb someone’s home.”

  “Why do I have a feeling there’s something you’re not telling me?” she muttered. But she buckled the knife belt around her waist.

  “You might see a toucan. Or a macaw.”

  “Uh-huh. What else lives in these trees? No, don’t tell me.” She took the vine from him and placed both booted feet against the huge trunk, leaning her weight back to keep the vine taut. Then, with an athletic grace that had him blinking in astonishment, she scrambled up the side and disappeared into the low-hanging branches.

  He waited for what seemed an interminable amount of time, but was probably no more than ten minutes. While he waited, he consulted the map again. Then her voice sounded in his mic. “I’ve got a good view but I don’t see the camp. I’m coming down.” A few moments later he heard a rustling sound and something came whizzing down at him, in two pieces.

  Cael ducked out of the way and the things thudded to the ground. Bending closer to check it out, he grimaced distastefully and moved away. At least the woman knew what to do when she encountered a slug rat.

  A couple of minutes later he could see her making her way carefully down the tree again. Her long, slender legs encased in the dark fatigues were scrabbling for purchase as she slowly lowered herself to a branch that would support her weight.

  Cael found a stout vine and walked it around the trunk until it was within arm’s reach of her. Then Ava grasped it and descended the trunk, as easily as she’d walked up it.

  The look in her eye when she stalked toward him was lethal. “I have a little bone to pick with you, McCabe.”

  “Ah…” If he smiled he’d be as dead as the slug rat. “I guess you didn’t see a toucan.”

  She gave him a shove. “Next time you do the visual from the air and I’ll take my chances with the guards.”

  He did grin then, earning himself another push. “You’re lighter. Better chance of the branches holding your weight. And I’ll admit it, I’m more practiced on the ground.”

  He handed her weapon back to her, noted that she didn’t offer to return the knife.

  “Just remember, I owe you one.”

  Cael continued onward. He was certain that before this mission was over, she’d find a way to repay him. In spades.

  Fifteen minutes later they repeated the process, minus the dead slug rat. And fifteen minutes after that, Ava shimmied up another tree, with a noticeable lack of enthusiasm, while Cael worried beneath it. They had to be getting close. If she wasn’t getting a view, maybe he should…

  “I can see it from here.”

  His attention jerked to the sound of her voice in his mic. “How far?”

  “Couple miles. They just cut down newer vegetation to make a good-sized clearing. Blends right in.”

  It took effort to keep his voice even as he asked, “Do you see the hostages?”

  There was silence for a minute. Two. Then Ava’s voice sounded again. “I don’t see live hostages. Cael, I don’t see anyone. I think the camp has been abandoned.”

  CHAPTER 11

  Ava remained silent as they walked through the makeshift camp. Cael’s expression was grim. The rebels hadn’t moved hastily. There was nothing left behind but trash. No food supplies. No weapons.

  Just flies buzzing over four bodies.

  She’d held her breath while he turned each of them over. Felt vaguely guilty at the relief she felt each time she didn’t recognize a victim. They’d been hostages at one time, that was clear. Each was still bound. And riddled with bullet holes.

  Sickened, she turned away. She couldn’t allow herself to wonder if the same fate awaited the newest hostages.

  The makeshift buildings were constructed of the saplings and trees they’d cut down. But there were other structures consisting of similar young trees sharpened into points and pounded into the ground. She knew without asking that the structures had served as cells.

  “They’ve been gone a couple days, I’d guess.”

  She looked at Cael askance. “How can you possibly know when they left?”

  “Without getting too graphic, I checked the decomposition on the bodies.” He shrugged, his gaze sweeping the area. “Good news is if they are holding the hostages, they probably aren’t located that far away. No more than a few hours, anyway. Probably sent a team ahead to prepare a new camp and moved out when it was ready.”

  “And we’re going to follow them.” He didn’t have to say the words. Ava was beginning to know the man very well indeed.

  “Shouldn’t be too hard. A hundred or more people moving through a jungle are going to leave a trail. And they moved out recently enough that the vegetation won’t have hidden the path they took yet.”

  * * *

  Ava was amazed, however, at just how faint the trail appeared in spots. It had been easy enough to see which direction the camp occupants had followed. But there were places where they had to stop so Cael could search for traces of the faint trail. She imagined the shadowy confines of the jungle would swallow up their own path in mere days. The lush vegetation sprawled everywhere. It was humans who were the trespassers here.

  The sun slanted in wherever it could pierce the double canopy above them. But that didn’t affect the humidity. By midmorning Ava had sweat through her clothes and had a constant stream of perspiration running down her neck. The backpack seemed to grow heavier with each step she took.

  She was in good shape. The department’s annual fitness test was never a problem. But hiking through a jungle in a tropical climate tested her in ways the department obstacle course didn’t begin to. The heat turned the jungle into a steamy sauna, and it was sapping more energy by the second.

  They stopped every half hour to find a tree and see if she could get a visual of the new camp. Each time she scrambled down to report in the negative. To her relief, she didn’t encounter another of the disgusting creatures she’d killed this morning, but did disturb a gibbon once, which gave an earsplitting screech before it swung to a nearby tree and continued its tirade from there.

  She also learned more than she’d ever wanted about the slime mold that grew up some tree trunks. Distaste filled her at the memory of her earlier encounter with it.

  Wiping her dripping forehead on the long sleeve of the shirt she wore, she slanted a look at Cael. He seemed tireless. His unshaven jaw was bristled with whiskers a couple of shades darker than the hair on his head. He had a black bandana wrapped around his forehead keeping his hair out of his eyes. And his clothes were as soaked as hers were.

  Mutinously, she stopped, glaring at his back. “You might be powered by Everready batteries, but some of us need an occasional break, Attila.”

  He looked back over his shoulder, his expression impatient. A moment later there was a visible thawing in it and he turned to head swiftly back to her. “You’re right. We need fuel and we have to stay hydrated.” Rejoining her, he slipped out of his pack and set it down. She did the same, restraining a moan of relief when she got rid of its weight.


  She cut a couple of ferns and laid them down on the ground before collapsing on them with little grace. “Last time I got a visual I could hear water nearby.” Just the sound had uncorked a yearning to find it and submerge herself in it. Her last shower was a distant memory. It helped to imagine that any body of water would be as suspect as some of the other things she’d encountered in the jungle.

  “Must be a creek or small falls nearby.” He was checking the coordinates again, his head down. “Might be a good place to hide out later, if the camp isn’t too much further.”

  She swallowed. Once they found the camp, they’d need to do surveillance before retiring to make a rescue plan.

  Ava didn’t even want to think of what the odds were of them succeeding. Instead she pulled her pack toward her, unzipped it and started rummaging around in it. “Want a sandwich?”

  “When did you have time to make those?” He took the food readily enough, though, unwrapping it to bite into the thick ham between toasted buns.

  “I didn’t. I called down to the kitchen while I was packing and had them prepare some and send them up.” She took a bite of her own sandwich and washed it down with a large gulp of water. The heat sapped the liquid from her body almost as soon as she drank each time. But at least that meant she didn’t have to stop and pee very frequently, for which she was decidedly grateful.

  “Beats the field rations I brought,” he agreed, devouring the sandwich in a few bites.

  “Why would you bring…” She stopped midsentence, and watched a brilliant blue butterfly the size of her fist flutter in back of his shoulder into the thick vegetation. It was like being in a different world, she reflected. And certainly it was as far removed from her experience as it was possible to be.

  “Habit. Never occurred to me to raid the kitchen.” He took a long pull from his water bottle. “But they don’t take up much space, and after your food is gone you’ll be happy enough to have them.”