by Dana Marton
“Are they yellow?” The kid wanted to know.
“They taste like lemons. You collect enough, it’s a nice little shot of protein,” she explained.
“Come on.” Mitch stood. “Anyone coming down the river can see us here.”
“I can’t go anywhere.” The kid dug his heels in. “I’m bruised and exhausted.”
Mitch looked at him for a long second. To think that they were fighting over this little pile of— Seriously? He bent and tossed the kid over his shoulder, then walked into the jungle with him.
Megan was saying something in the back, but the river drowned out her words. He could swear he heard tubes and tied both mentioned in the sentence.
Once they were back under thick cover, he set the kid down. He wasn’t going to carry Zak’s lazy behind, not unless the kid was truly incapacitated.
“We’ll take a break.” He rolled a log to check under it for anything dangerous before they sat down.
“Spider!” Zak scrambled away, showing a lot more energy suddenly.
Mitch used a leaf the scoop the little thing up and shoo it out of harm’s way. When he sat, the others followed his example. “You should have seen the banana spider we ran into on the way here.”
“Tastes like bananas?” Zak asked, his face scrunched in a grimace.
“Not like lemon ants. The spiders live in banana trees. You wouldn’t want one of those to bite you.”
“Deadly?”
“Could be. It’ll hurt like hell, for sure. And according to Miss Know-It-All here, they cause priapism.”
“Pria-what?”
“An erection that lasts hours,” Megan put in, an amused look on her face. She was no doubt entertained by the fact that particular information had got stuck in Mitch’s head.
The kid perked right up. “Can we go back to look at it?”
Megan struggled to hide a grin.
They took the rest of their five-minute break in silence. Zak looked thoughtful. He was probably calculating how much money he could make if he took a couple of banana spiders back to his frat brothers.
“Time to go.” Mitch stood at last, realizing suddenly that they were at a decision point. He needed to take the kid north; Megan wanted to take him south. They were going to have to come to an agreement before they could proceed any farther.
“I need sleep. I haven’t slept in ages,” Zak pleaded.
He did look used up and wrung out. Either they could take an hour to rest here, or he’d slow them down so much they’d lose that hour, or more, anyway.
Mitch looked at Megan. She nodded.
He tossed his backpack to the kid. “Put this under your head.”
“I thought we were supposed to sleep off the ground. What if something bites me?”
“Make a nest from a couple of large leaves. You’ll be fine for a quick nap. I’ll make sure nothing gets near you.”
The kid looked doubtful, but settled down. He was asleep in two minutes.
Megan stood and took a few steps back. She checked her gun. But when she was done, she didn’t put it away. “You should leave now.”
A second passed before he caught on to what she was saying. Looked like the negotiation was about to begin. His hand crept toward his own weapon. “I’m taking the kid north.”
“We’re going south. We’ll be at Juarez’s camp by nightfall.”
He stood slowly. “There’ll be other opportunities to gain the man’s trust.”
“Not before the big meeting.”
“There’ll be other big meetings. Zak only has one life.” He moved closer little by little as he talked.
She stood her ground, but lifted her weapon. “Leave. Get your backpack. Walk away.”
“You would shoot the man who saved your life? Twice?” He tried to add some humor into the situation.
Her upper lip twitched. She said nothing.
“Seriously? You’d kill me.” He stole another step closer and saw hesitation in her eyes.
A second later, her tough-chick face was back. “I wouldn’t have to kill you. I’d just make sure you weren’t in any shape to argue with me.”
“You’d leave me wounded in the jungle?” He gained another foot.
“Something tells me you’ve survived worse.”
Then he was close enough and he lunged. He’d meant to take her to the ground and wrestle the gun away from her, but she twisted at the last second and her back ended up slamming against the nearest tree. He was holding her gun hand up, pressing his body hard against hers to hold her still.
They were nose to nose, gazes clashing.
Her breath came in quick, hot spurts, her breasts pressing against his chest. He was so focused on that sensation that a second passed before he became aware of the sharp object in his back.
Her free hand was holding a small knife. Where had she been hiding that? He’d thought he’d already seen all her weapons.
“Let me go.” She squirmed.
His body responded predictably.
Her eyes went wide. Then she gave a pained smile. “Look who doesn’t need a banana spider.”
Damn straight.
He kissed her, more to annoy her than to seduce her. The time and place wasn’t exactly right for that, although if they met again under different circumstances, he was going to revisit that option.
The knife pressed harder between his ribs. Her knee came up...and stopped. Then went down. The pressure of the knife lessened, then disappeared.
Next thing he knew, she was kissing him back. Her lips went from resisting to softening to demanding in a heartbeat. He let go of her gun hand so he could palm her breasts. They fit his hands perfectly.
Hard heat suffused his body. And need.
His head was spinning with it.
Something cold pressing against his forehead brought him back to his senses. And after a dazed moment he realized that she was now holding the gun to his temple while the tip of her knife was at his side now, just a few inches from his heart.
“Reach behind you, slowly, pull out your gun and toss it into the woods,” she ordered him.
She was so good. He found it difficult to be mad at her for that. There was such a thing as admiring a worthy enemy.
He pulled back enough to look into her eyes. Instead of the triumph he’d expected, he found only desperation in her gaze. Odd. He would have, at the very least, expected her to rub his defeat in his face. She did seem to enjoy watching him suffer.
“What’s wrong?” He tried not to look at her swollen lips.
“You,” she said without hesitation. “You shouldn’t be here. There’s no way for this to end well. If I want Zak, I’m going to have to hurt you.”
“I’m not letting Zak go. He’s my mission. I don’t leave a mission incomplete. If you want to take him you’re going to have to do more than hurt me. You’re going to have to kill me.” He took a big step back and went for his gun.
They faced off, both knowing there was no chance either of them would miss from this distance. It bothered him more than it should have, that’s for sure.
“Come with me,” he offered suddenly, surprised to hear the words come out. But once they were, he went with them. “To hell with the CIA. This is a suicide mission. Juarez will figure out who you are sooner or later. If this is the kind of work you want to do, we’ll talk to Colonel Wilson.”
She looked away for a second, blinked hard. “I need to do this. For my own reasons. This goes beyond the CIA.”
That had his mind scrambling. “You’re a double agent?” He shouldn’t have been surprised. She was nothing if not full of surprises. But hell, he hadn’t seen this coming. “You work for Cristobal?”
“I have a private mission. In addition to the official one. Nothing to do with any of the crime lords in the district.”
So she hadn’t gone completely rogue. Good. He wasn’t sure how that would have influenced his decision. “Love, revenge or money?” He tried to narrow it down.
&n
bsp; “I’m here for someone.”
Love, then. The thought caused an uncomfortable feeling in his chest. He hated the idea of her risking her life for a man. He hated the idea of her caring about another man that much.
Stupid.
She wasn’t his.
But he wanted her to be, he realized now. Wanted her for more than a quick adventure. But it isn’t going to happen. The resolution didn’t make him hate the idea of another man any less, unfortunately. “Is he worth dying for?”
“I have no intention of dying. Come with me.” She turned his offer on him. “All I need is three days. I need to go to Don Pedro’s lair and get my brother. Then we grab Zak and we’re out of there.”
Brother. A knot relaxed deep inside him.
“What’s he doing with the don?” Hopefully his motives for being here were less misguided than Zak’s.
“He works for the DEA. He was injured on his first international mission and disappeared. For the longest time we thought he was dead. Then there was a snippet of intel that Don Pedro was holding someone who fits his description.” Her face transformed as she talked, her features softening as she spoke about her brother, then hardened again. “I’m not going home without Billy.”
“And the CIA has no idea why you’re really here.” They wouldn’t be amused when they found out. They liked to have their agents’ full attention and loyalty. Undivided.
She shook her head.
He thought it over. “The man they’re talking about, he might not be your brother.”
Hurt flashed across her face. “I know he is. I can’t explain how I know, but I do.” She sounded defiant and at the same time desperate for him to believe her.
“Juarez might not take you.”
“I’ll find a way.”
“You’re asking me to risk this life—” he pointed at Zak “—for some cowboy mission that has a chance in a thousand of succeeding.”
Her amber eyes held his. “Three days.”
Part of him would have given her anything when she looked at him like that. But the trained soldier inside him knew better. “I can’t.”
“Do you have a brother?”
“My family has nothing to do with this.” He didn’t talk about his family. He didn’t even think of them if he could help it. Except Cindy—who was lost to him.
“You come with me. I’ll vouch for you with Juarez. You’ll stay at the compound and make sure nothing happens to Zak. As soon as we’re off to the meeting, you grab him and take him home. I’m not asking you to abandon your mission. I’m only asking for a brief delay.”
He tried to think. He knew what he had to do. Trouble was, it wasn’t what he wanted to do. He wanted to help her. But before he could come to a decision, noises reached them from the jungle.
He lifted a hand, silencing her. A group of men were stomping through the woods, talking and swearing. Not entirely unexpected since they were a half day’s walk from Juarez’s camp. There would be some traffic.
They came closer and closer, until nothing separated them but a dense stand of bamboo. He stood motionless, barely breathing as he listened to their bragging and banter. They were on their way back, having collected debts from the villages upriver. From the way they were talking, Mitch felt sorry for the villagers.
With a little luck, they would pass right by. The vegetation was thick, visibility terrible. Both Megan and he were dressed in clothes that blended into the jungle. They both stood stock-still.
The men reached them, then passed by.
“Who the hell are they?” Zak asked from his makeshift bed, awakening at the worst possible moment.
All movement halted immediately. The men stopped talking.
A branch snapped. Then another. They were spreading out.
Mitch pulled back, gun in hand, his blood boiling with frustration. He and Megan took a protective stance, the two of them making sure they had Zak covered. Like a team. Keeping Zak safe was still his number-one objective. He had to remind himself of that. Because, at the moment, all he wanted was to shoot the twit.
Chapter Six
They were surrounded in minutes. Then ominous silence settled over the area once again. Megan’s fingers twitched on the trigger.
Suddenly, she spotted movement to her right.
She swung that way.
“Que pasa, chica?” A tall Creole man stepped from cover first. Umberto. He was one of the oldest men on Juarez’s team. “Everything okay here?”
Megan made herself lower her weapon and put a smile on her face that she hoped looked real. “We’re on our way back.”
Since Umberto hadn’t been in camp when Zak broke out, she relayed how the kid had had some trouble with Juarez and ran away into the jungle, then how she’d hooked up with Mitch, her mercenary friend, for some help.
As she spoke, nine other men came forward, their rifles slung on their shoulders. They took their cue from Umberto, and Umberto took her at her word. She’d known him for a year and had a surreal kind of friendship going with him—or as much as you can make friends with an enemy you knew you might someday have to shoot.
She’d first shown up at the Juarez camp bringing a delivery from a Miami connection, and after a few days she’d mentioned that she wouldn’t mind staying. Most of the men had wanted nothing to do with her. They were used to women working in the camp’s cantina, not meddling in serious business. Umberto had taken her under his wing and protected her while the meanest of the bunch had challenged her and worked at making every waking minute of her life miserable.
Months passed before her antagonists realized that she’d never quit. If they wanted her gone, they’d have to kill her. Her tenacity eventually earned her some respect. But it was Umberto’s protection and Juarez’s favor that saved her. Apparently, Juarez had had some issues with his Miami connection in the past, and having her leave the man for him pleased the boss on some level.
“How about some maté?” Umberto offered. When people met up in the jungle, it was traditional to sit down with a cup of the herbal drink and talk a little.
Would he be suspicious if she said no? She had to take that chance.
“Gracias, amigo, but I’d rather get going. Wouldn’t mind sleeping in my own bunk tonight.” She glanced at Mitch. His facial expression remained neutral, but his tense muscles said the situation didn’t please him.
They needed to get back to camp as soon as possible, before he attacked Umberto and the others and put everything, including their lives, in jeopardy. Or kissed her again, God forbid. Her lips were still tingling. What was that about? And did she kiss him back? No way. She’d swooned from hunger and leaned against him for support. That was her story and she was sticking to it.
Umberto gave her an indulgent smile, oblivious to her internal turmoil. “Can’t say I don’t feel the same. These old bones...” He shook his head, then headed back to the trail with his usual lumbering gait. “Vamos, then, chica. Vamos, hombres.”
Mitch shot her a hard look. He was here on a valid mission, saving a life. She would have helped him if she could have. She didn’t want Zak, or anyone else, to come to harm. But more than that, she wanted to save her brother. Zak had to make it back to camp. She wasn’t going to sacrifice her brother’s life for a spoiled little wannabe drug dealer, no matter what state his father governed.
The kid had been quiet so far, but now he spoke up, stubborn rebellion written all over his face. “No.”
“Keep moving.” She shoved him forward. He seemed to fail to realize that keeping his head down was the best strategy for him. He didn’t grasp the fact that the vast majority of the people present would just as soon shoot him as look at him. Which he proved yet again when he turned to Umberto and said, “Listen, man. I have money.”
Umberto laughed as he looked back and gave the kid the once-over, taking in the dirty, torn clothes and sneakers that had seen better days.
“My father is the governor of Kansas.”
The few me
n who spoke English openly laughed at that.
“This man—” Zak pointed at Mitch, fury creeping onto his face “—took money from my father to save me. He was supposed to get me out of here. He betrayed me. Take me home and the money is yours. A million dollars.”
Megan shot Mitch a questioning look. A million?
But he just rolled his eyes. Okay, so the kid was overestimating his worth. Still, she wondered how big a role money played in Mitch’s motives. Was he really more mercenary than soldier? What did she know about the SDDU anyway? Her oldest brother, Jamie, sure didn’t answer any of her questions. For a second she wondered how he was coping, how his injury was healing. The worst part of being here was not getting any news about her family back home.
Soon. All she had to do was get out of here alive with Billy.
And at the moment, the key to that was convincing Umberto that everything was fine here so they could hurry back to camp. The man was looking Mitch over carefully.
Mitch didn’t even blink. “I think our little boy is homesick.” His voice filled with disdain and sarcasm.
Some of the others sneered at Zak.
Umberto turned to Megan. “What disagreement did the boss have with this chico?”
She shrugged. “Something to do with business.”
“He’ll slow us down.”
Meaning they should kill him here.
“The idiot shot Enrique on his way out.” Megan stepped closer to Zak. “The boss will want him.”
The man’s gray eyebrows lifted, then he gave a slow nod. “Can’t say I ever liked Enrique.” He murmured something that sounded like “rabid coyote” and spat onto the ground.
“Forget it, chico,” he told Zak. “Even if your father was el presidente and he offered the White House for you...” He made a dismissing gesture with his hand.
“You have no idea how much money my father has.” Zak moved closer, then stopped when Umberto’s gun rose. “You could retire.”
Megan held her breath and made sure her hand was close enough to her weapon to draw. From the corner of her eye, she saw Mitch positioning himself, too.
Umberto shook his head.
