by Amy McKinley
“This way.” Tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, Mari tugged on Chris’s hand as she urged him to follow her lead. “There’s an abandoned hut on the edge of the village. We can stay there for the night.”
Few people were out, as the hour had turned late. Danger existed as a way of life there... everywhere, really. She’d grown up walking hand-in-hand with it. With all the upheaval, the people were on high alert. There was no telling when the cartel or the supposed authorities would come in and wreak havoc on those who lived here, especially with Juan Carlos and his son hunting her. Mari repressed a shiver.
They ducked inside, finding a corner away from any intrusive eyes. They dropped their packs, and she found Chris’s gaze in the small amount of moonlight that stretched through a window. She sat on the floor and leaned forward onto her hands, her nerves suddenly getting the best of her.
“Come here.” Chis lifted his arm, and she moved to curl up against him.
She noticed the gun at his side. They might need it, and she was glad he was a fierce fighter. They’d both need to be if they were going up against the head of the Ramirez organization. Her body tensed. This could be the last time he held her, the last time that she felt safe and no longer alone. There was every chance that he would be taken from her, and her life would spiral downward in a nasty way.
“Hey. We won’t be alone in this. I’ll find a way to contact my brother so we have reinforcements.” Chris nudged her chin up with a finger, locking his gaze on hers. “Don’t worry. They waged this war first. We showed up, and we’re gonna finish it. Everything will be okay. Do you trust me?”
Warmth spread through her. Yes. There was no doubt in her mind. He’d become her world, and after everything they’d been through with his injuries and then hers, she trusted him to keep her safe. With a nod, she leaned against him and let her eyelids close. They would need rest for whatever Chris had in store for tomorrow.
Chris
Voices filtered into Chris’s awareness, and he blinked the last remnants of sleep away. Mari was still pressed against his side. They’d shifted to lie flat at some point during the night, but she remained curled into his body. He brushed a lock of hair from her face then dropped his hand to her hip, giving her a gentle squeeze.
The noises beyond their tiny shelter were unhurried and natural. People were going about their day. He detected no panic or tension. They were safe for the time being.
Mari stirred, and he tucked his chin to watch her awaken. She took his breath away. So fierce. With a blade, gun, or verbal barrage, she grabs life by the balls. He loved that about her, as well as the vulnerable side, which she buried deep, but which he glimpsed every now and then when she thought she was alone, with no one at her side. And when they were finally safely out of there, he promised himself that they would have all the time in the world to explore each other fully.
“Morning.” She flashed him a smile as they stood and stretched. Mari bent to rummage through her pack then produced a small bag she’d filled with berries. After they had a miniscule breakfast—he was so hungry—they drank their fill of water.
“Are we going to just go and confront them?”
The worry on her face made him feel like shit. “Not yet. We’re going to do some recon.” After another sip of water, he took her hand, ready to strategize. “Tell me everything you know about their day-to-day operations, what they hold dear, where they ship their cocaine from, their coca fields, and their routines at home.”
Mari tensed and sucked in a breath. “We’re only two people. I don’t know what you expect us to do against an army of Ramirezes.”
“You’d be surprised what we can do. But we’ll save the heavy lifting for when we have a team to help us.”
She studied him and looked as though she was weighing the risks. When he fell silent, the unnatural stillness that surrounded him would intimidate her, and she would run for the hills—if she didn’t know he’d protect her with his very life. He had to make her believe they stood a chance. He gave her a pleading look.
“Okay then. Let’s get to it.” She launched into a recounting of what she knew, which he followed by mapping strategy. She gazed at him with a wondrous expression in her dark eyes, in awe of his strategic prowess.
Chapter 24
Chris
Shouts of children echoed in the distance as they played close to their homes or darted through the tiny community with each other. Chris reached for Mari, wanting the physical connection to her. As they made their way to town, they walked hand in hand down a dangerous dirt road known to shelter thieves. The small village had been a haven, but they needed supplies in order to put their plan into effect.
Chris shifted closer to the willowy trees that lined the road, pulling Mari with him. They drew attention with their packs, his sheer presence, and her natural beauty. He understood why Mateo wanted her and had put her on a pedestal for when he was ready to settle down. It wasn’t going to happen, though. Chris would punch those false expectations right out of Mateo, along with his father’s organization and the drug-trafficking legacy that he expected to fully inherit.
He would demolish them. Steel lined his veins.
He pulled her deeper into the cover the vegetation offered. Giving the Ramirez cartel any warning so early in the game upped the cartel’s chance of winning, and he would see to it that they did not win. His mouth twitched, and he firmed his jaw. This was war, something he was well versed in.
He only wished his brothers were with him.
Faltering a step, he focused on that last thought, working to push past the headache that always gripped him when he tried to force a memory. Six blurry images swam in his mind’s eye. No matter how hard he attempted to tease them into focus, the sudden pain in his head worsened.
A soft touch on his forearm had him looking down into Mari’s upturned face, and he grinned in resignation. He knew what she’d say: stop forcing it. The memories will come when they’re ready.
“We’ll be there soon. It’s only about half a mile,” she whispered. “Are you sure about all this?”
“Hell yeah.” They would stock up on food and ammo, and he wanted to see if they could get any more intel from the people Mari knew. They traveled together with greater ease, walking through the forest adjacent to the dirt road. As in the jungle, birds called to one another, and an occasional monkey swung by, traveling through the branches up ahead. But there was a big difference between the jungle and the copse of trees they were in, in terms of the heat. It was cooler, and he was thankful for that.
The sounds of people—of living—filtered through the trees, and they stepped farther away from the road. Surprise was still on their side, and he wanted to keep it that way for as long as possible.
“Do you know many people here?” Chris kept his voice low as he questioned Mari.
“No. Not here. But it’s a larger town, with restaurants and shopping. It’s not like the one we just came from.”
“Then we run an even greater chance of running into cartel or military people.”
She tensed beside him. “Yes. I avoided this area—skirted around it—on my way to the tiny village we just came from.”
“Well, maybe we can grab a shower somewhere and a change of clothes.”
Mari groaned. “That would be beyond amazing.”
A few more feet, and they would be there. Chris’s awareness notched up, listening to and discarding noises, testing the conversations they could hear against anything they knew to be wary of.
Screams filled the air. Several consecutive pops of a gun jolted them both into movement. Shit! They sprinted to the edge of the forest, to a place just before the trees gave way to a back street. Shops lined the view in front of them, and a few people raced by.
The chaos seemed to be coming from what he assumed to be the center of the town. He spared a glance at Mari as he released her hand. She quickly grabbed her gun, and her other hand gripped a knife, ready to let it loose
should she need to. Determination pulled her features tight. Switching his attention from her to the area around them, he cataloged every roof, every hiding place, and the people moving away from where they planned to go.
In times like these, their connection expanded then contracted to a laser-like focus. He read her energy, and his training kicked in. Their coordination wasn’t unfamiliar—he knew he’d had that same unity with others, at some point in time.
After dashing from the cover of the trees to the back of one of the buildings, they edged close to the corner. Shouts and crashes filled the air, and he took advantage of it, moving closer, with Mari at his back. Weaving in and out of people going in the opposite direction, they covered ground to take them to another cluster of buildings.
“Town square,” Mari said under her breath.
Inching between two buildings, they kept watch for movement past the narrow path they edged along. Chris was first. The pop of bullets volleyed back and forth between two groups. He couldn’t see them yet. There were only a few more steps until he got to where he needed to be, and he chose those with care.
On a roof almost directly across from the narrow passage they were inching away from, three men took cover. Their heads popped up, and deep scowls etched their craggy features. It was obvious from their clothes and coloring that they weren’t from the town. The three of them shouted a few words back and forth before they yelled down to the five cartel members a few feet from them, who returned fire. Russian. The knowledge of who crouched on the rooftop surprised him. There had to be a connection.
“Shit,” Mari said as she peeked around him.
People fled in a mad dash through the square, taking cover where they could. One dark-haired woman, who wore a flowing skirt and sleeveless top, strolled through the open street amidst the chaos, her face tilted to the roof. Something about her carriage sent alarm bells clanging through Chris. Do I know her? He stole another look at the men. Does she know them?
Squinting, he took in the details of the woman. He stepped forward, recognition causing his mind to spin and dark edges to eclipse his vision. Hannah. She’d passed about three feet from where he and Mari were.
The sight of a brunette Hannah jolted him with such force that the world around him faded away, to be replaced by images from the past. Memories rushed through his mind, and the sights and sounds of the present ceased to exist around him.
He staggered against the side of the building as images erupted of Trev, his blood brother, and his street-turned-military-brothers, Hayden, Tank, Keegan, Jack and Hawk. Their family had extended to include Trev’s military team: Liam, Matt, and Connor. The love he had for all of them came flowing back, along with the intensity and danger of the wars they’d waged, the hostages saved, the wounds, the betrayal. They’d come. They never left a man behind, especially not one of their team, their family. They were probably somewhere in this country right now, searching for him.
His vision flashed back, and he focused on the very person he suspected was responsible for the mishap during their last mission, which had resulted in his amnesia, in his being stranded upside down in a tree, and in his gunshot wound.
Hannah wasn’t from Colombia. Nor was he. He remembered that they’d worked in the same building at the CIA until the day he and some of his SEAL brothers were sent to rescue hostages when an aircraft went down. She’d been on that plane. The very reason for him being there was to rescue her and several others, so why she remained—lived—shed a dark light on what she probably was: a spy, possibly Russian.
He shook his head to clear it as the voices escalated in their volume and speed. The Russians hurled words from the roof to the men below, who may or may not have understood them, but he did: “We had a deal.”
“Chris,” Mari hissed at his side, her fingers digging into his bicep.
He blinked. The world flooded back in full force, and he watched Hannah’s long legs carry her in graceful strides farther away from where they were. He could go after her and maybe find out what the hell had happened and why.
If he did, there would be a choice. He could capture Hannah or remain by Mari’s side. The tug on his arm brought his attention back to Mari.
She’s not my wife. In fact, he’d never met her before he came to Colombia. Betrayal welled up in him, warring against visceral images of the two of them together and how she’d taken care of him and remained by his side when he was most vulnerable. They’d built their trust, and she’d told him she loved him. The part of him damaged by Jessie wanted to grab her, shake her, and demand to know what game she played. Pressing his mouth into a frustrated line and clenching his hands into fists, he willed himself to cool down and to confront her only when the time was right.
The urge to go after Hannah subsided further when he remembered the very real threat that Mari faced. There was no other option for him. If he didn’t help her, she would most likely die.
He turned part of himself off, focusing on where they were and what needed to be done, something he could definitely do. “At least they cleared the people out.”
“Right.” Mari nodded. “Fewer people to recognize us.”
“We still need a few things.”
Chris grabbed her hand and pulled her along as they left the little walkway between the buildings.
He clenched his jaw. Why she lied about being married to him didn’t matter at that moment. It wasn’t the right time to have that discussion.
Chapter 25
Chris
They bought food with the cash Chris had hidden in a pocket of his backpack. Even in the small village, they’d stuck to English rather than Spanish when they spoke to one another. He and Mari ate then stored what was left over in his pack. He wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. It was damn hot, but still better than when they were in the jungle. They left the little community and pushed on to their next location. This time, they hotwired a closed-top Jeep, as the distance was approximately fourteen hours to Buenaventura, the port he wanted to target. From there, they would visit the surrounding coca fields.
Dusk settled around them, and shadows elongated. Soon, it would be nightfall, and he hoped to reach their destination prior to that, but it looked like it wouldn’t be possible. When the Jeep ran out of gas, they left it and continued on foot.
In silence, they pushed on, and he set a fast pace, one she met without complaint. They were close to one of the main ports, which the cartel used as a drug-trafficking route. He’d checked the map before they’d stopped. “It should take about an hour.” At Mari’s nod, he increased his pace, which she matched. He wanted to get there before it was fully dark. Time passed swiftly as they picked their way along their intended path.
It was a good time to confront her. Out of the corner of his eye, he skimmed over the curve of her cheek to the stubborn set of her mouth. The internal fight he waged allowed him to understand why she would have said what she did—to ensure his protection. She lied to him and pretended that he meant something when, at least at first, he didn’t. But she wasn’t Jessie. Her actions over their time together spoke louder than his missteps and blinders with his past-relationship fiasco.
For some time, they risked walking on the road, listening for the sound of cars. None came, at least not while they were in sight of any approaching traffic. That could change at a moment’s notice, so they remained alert.
It wasn’t long before they veered off the path that led to the busy harbor for the perceived safety of the trees. She had her fingers hooked in the pack’s straps, and he had to force his attention to her face rather than the T-shirt molded tightly across her breasts. Whether she was his wife or not, he wanted her in every sense.
Mari leaned against a tree and shoved wispy strands of hair back from her face. She dropped the pack at her feet and stretched her arms overhead. “Why did you want to stop?”
Chris hesitated to say anything and instead stepped in front of her, closing the inches that separated their bodies. Ben
ding down, he slid his hand behind her neck, beneath her braid. His other hand dropped to her hip and drew her against him while he brushed his lips over hers. She instantly softened against his body, and something eased in him. There was no hesitation, only desire.
When he leaned back and she opened her eyes, he looked within, wanting to see inside her, all the way to her soul. The wall he saw on occasion wasn’t there—there was only passion, need, and warmth. She cared. No matter what her reasons had been for the deception and the lies about them being married, he believed she had feelings for him. The rest would work itself out in time, because he had no doubt she’d initially sought his protection under the guise of being his wife.
Putting some space between them, Chris tugged on her braid. “When did we fall in love?”
“What?”
He didn’t miss how her body stiffened. It was miniscule, but there regardless. They weren’t married. He needed to reassure himself about exactly where her loyalties were. His instincts told him they were with him, but he’d traveled down that path once before, and he would not do that again, especially when it could literally mean their death—or his, depending on the outcome of her goals.
A small smile spread across her face, and she eased back against the tree. “You caught me off guard. I thought we were going to talk about hitting the coca fields.” As she tilted her head, her features softened into a wistful expression. “I can tell you about when I lost myself completely, knowing you were the one I wanted, always. When I saw you for the first time in the jungle, when we cut you down and I realized who you were, I didn’t know what to think.”
