We come to a hover at what amounts to an empty clearing surrounded by miles of lush trees. It’s dense here, and I know how deep in the rainforest we truly are. I can only trust that Caleb has a plan to get us the fuck out of here when it’s time.
I follow Caleb’s lead and pull my headset off, jamming my boonie cap on my head while jumping down from the open door of the chopper, following Caleb while the co-pilot chucks our bags out onto the ground. We run a few yards away as the helicopter takes back off, the wind whipping my hair around and almost making me lose my footing on the soft grass.
In the quiet, I look around. It’s beautiful in a wild, untamed sort of way, and part of me thinks that this would make a great fantasy getaway.
The last vestiges of the helicopter’s engine fade away, and I look to Caleb, who’s been checking on our gear. “Now what?”
He points to the tree line, where a small, weathered old man is striding confidently toward us. “Caleb Stone?”
Caleb nods, picking up his bag along with the AK-47 that was part of our helicopter’s ‘equipment.’ “Miguel?”
“Sim,” the man says, and he must feel that’s introduction enough because he turns and begins those same sure and certain steps back toward the jungle.
Caleb takes a few paces behind him and then turns back, gesturing for me to follow. I’m frozen in place for a moment, not believing that I’m actually doing this and honestly not even sure if I can.
I’m not Claire, a trained agent, and this is not a movie where the director is going to yell ‘cut’ if things get sketchy.
I’m just a girl from New York, with dreams that are maybe a bit too big and hopes that are dangerously verging on hopeless.
But then I picture Nathan’s face. I’m fucking furious at him for leaving me, but I have to hope it was in some misguided attempt to protect me. He’s been doing that since the beginning when I’d stumbled into his first meeting with Nikolai. Even when I’d lied, repeatedly, he’s protected me.
And used you, a voice whispers. It’s the voice of self-doubt, and now that I don’t have a helicopter engine pounding in my ears constantly, it’s a little bit louder.
But not all of being used was a bad thing, I answer, thinking of the rough sex that he meant to be punishing but I found thrilling and liberating. He took me, but I took it all and gave it back to him.
I’m stronger than I sometimes think. And this is going to be one of those moments. It has to be.
So, I take the first step, and then another. Following Caleb and Miguel into the jungle, I remind myself that this is for Nathan . . . and for the tenuous, undetermined future that is us.
My old college boots would’ve been damn near useless on this terrain. So I’m thankful for the boots Grant found for me and that Caleb insisted I change into on the jet, because the ground almost immediately proves challenging, slick but gripping the soles at the same time.
My cargo pants, tank top, open over shirt, and boonie cap aren’t cute or even flattering, but they are functional enough as we hike, avoiding the trees as best we can until we’re into the deep bush and the ground begins to open up. It’s like standing in a wooden palace of columns, a heavily leaved floor dominated by the towering behemoths all around us.
“Do you know where we’re going?” I ask Caleb after we’ve been walking for long enough that my calves are asking me why the hell I suddenly decided to take up ballet or something.
I know it’s mostly because it’s almost impossible to stay focused. The heat is all-encompassing, while the jungle is a consistent repetition of huge tree trunks, shadows, and animal cries. Even the screams of monkeys, which were fascinating at first, have started to be nothing more than annoying fingernails on the blackboard for me.
My partners aren’t exactly much better, Miguel saying nothing while Caleb’s black backpack bobs in front of me. He’ll pause from time to time, check his GPS receiver, put it away, and loop and repeat. He glances back at me every once in a while, making sure I’m still with him, I guess.
Though maybe it’s in hopes that I’ve been snatched away by a jungle cat. The one I heard sent chills down my spine, insanity and death wrapped up in one scream that pierced even the fog of my exhaustion.
Caleb looks oddly at home, like he’s more comfortable in the wild forest than he is back at home in the city. His every step is sure-footed, and the dirt already smudged on his cheek seems more like camouflage and less like an accidental smear.
Pausing, he takes out his canteen and swallows, the AK still in his free hand as he does. “Where you wanted to go . . . to find Nathan. And drink water. You don’t want to drop from dehydration just because you’re afraid of Montezuma’s Revenge.”
His easy, joking response gives me a bit of relief at the craziness my life has become, but I don’t tell him that. Instead, I stop and think about the stupidity of what I’m doing.
He takes two more steps before some sixth sense must alert him that I’m not immediately behind him.
“You okay?”
His eyes hold concern, actual concern for my well-being, and I don’t sense even a hint of sarcasm in his question. Up ahead of us, our guide stops, though I think Miguel could keep going for hours non-stop.
And just like that, I’m on the hill of the rollercoaster of emotions again, scared and then accepting, angry and then loving. It’s like on the helicopter, but this hill is dizzyingly high and I’m barely on the tracks.
“This is crazy, right?” I mutter, dropping to a knee and wiping at my face. “What are we doing? I should’ve just waited for him to come back. He doesn’t need us chasing him down in the Brazilian rainforest. Well, maybe you, but not me. I . . .”
My breath is gone, and I can’t catch it no matter how hard I try to suck wind into my collapsed lungs.
Caleb comes closer, putting a heavy hand on each of my shoulders and squatting down to meet my eyes. “Breathe, woman. In and out.” I do as he says, the sparkles at the edges of my vision fading slightly. “There you go. Again . . . in and out.”
He breathes with me, pacing my frantic panting into regular breaths.
When I can feel the panic passing, I look up at him. “Thanks.”
Before I can stop the words, they escape. “Why are you being nice to me?”
He shrugs, unslinging his rifle and standing back up. “Giving rookies shit is part of how I was brought up. But you keep going. This takes guts on your part, and maybe each ration of shit you take, each step you make and don’t give up makes me like you a tiny bit more.”
“Thanks, I guess,” I reply, standing up and taking a deep drink of water. “So even if I have a meltdown?”
“Everyone melts. It’s getting up when you’ve cracked that counts for guts,” Caleb says. “Though I still don’t trust you.”
I’m not surprised he doesn’t trust me because to be honest, I’ve done very little to inspire trust as far as he’s concerned. He doesn’t know about Nathan’s and my conversations, all the little ways we’ve connected and come to trust each other.
Unless Nathan told him, and while I get the sense they’re close brothers, I don’t know that they’d share that. But with Nathan leaving me, any trust Caleb might’ve fostered for me has to be smashed to smithereens.
If Nathan didn’t trust me to come, I can’t believe Caleb does.
“Guts on my part? What about on your part? This is some pretty gutsy shit, I’d say.” I gesture around to the trees, and even to myself, acknowledging that I realize I’m a risk he’s taking too.
He smirks, a big shit-eating grin splitting his face. “But I live for this shit. This is where I shine. Everything’s going to hell in a handbasket? I’m the guy you want on your team because when it’s dire, I’m the secret weapon.”
I laugh. His cockiness is coated in humor, but there’s an underlying truth to the words that puts me at ease.
Up ahead, Miguel clears his throat, pointedly interrupting us. “Hermano is two hours ahead of us still.
We need to go before dark.”
Miguel looks around at the wildness around us, and I’m not sure if the fear I see in his eyes is because there are animals to be afraid of or men who’ve become monsters from living out here in the untamed jungle.
Chapter 33
Nathan
Morning coffee was hours ago and I can feel my feet sweating in my boots. In some ways, I feel better than I have in years. I may dress in a suit and tie most days, but I’m no stranger to roughing it, and waking up this morning, getting out of the hammock, and gearing up, I felt like I was coming back to my real home.
The hike brings back all sorts of memories of missions, most of them with Caleb, though we rarely worked in jungle environments like this. Not when the majority of mercenary work in the world involves sand, mountains, and at a minimum, a working knowledge of Arabic.
I wipe the sweat from my brow, oddly relieved that it’s simply salt water, not a gritty mixture of sweat and sand dust. Another difference was that the desert, with its expanse of sand and dunes, provided a good view for miles. Too many rookies took a false sense of security from those vistas that no enemies lurked nearby.
Here in the jungle, though, I feel eyes on me from every angle. I know that everything here is trying to kill me, and it’s putting me on edge. Perhaps I should have taken Caleb up on his offer to come with me.
Offer? As if his insistence was a mere suggestion. He’s been my ‘battle buddy’ for years, and I know that his not having my back this time burns him up.
But he doesn’t understand. Yes, I wanted to do this myself because I wanted to prevent him from getting caught up in it. But also . . . I wanted to make sure he would be there for Emma.
I know that sounds strange, even to my own ears. The only reason I’d managed to get him to stay behind was because he wanted to see the moment of realization in Emma’s eyes that I’d left her.
He’s a bit ruthless sometimes, but he’s my brother.
I know that he’s got my best interests at heart. So even if it hurts her, and me, he’ll make sure she stays safe, far away from the stupid shit I’ve gotten myself into.
I can only pray that he’s not too cruel. I truly didn’t want to hurt her, but this is more than I can ask of someone. Her or Caleb. They’re the two most important people in my life, and I won’t risk them on what is, even to me, a fool’s errand.
But some fool’s errands must be done. So this is my own mission, right or wrong.
Our trek continues with Francisco leading the way with a machete, occasionally switching off with one of the other men as they clear a bit of brush from the narrow pathway he seems to be following.
To untrained eyes, it barely even looks like a trail, more so a thin meandering where water tends to run down the hills with the daily rainstorms. Even with my pathfinding abilities, I’ve more than once guessed wrong at the turns he’s wanted to take.
But Francisco seems certain of his destination, so I’m trusting him, and Nikolai, that he is actually taking me to the cave as arranged. Still, I’m keeping my head on a swivel, a knife in my hand, and the GPS in my backpack has spare batteries.
I see Francisco lift his hand in a fist, a sign I know well, and my freeze is instantaneous. I drop to a knee behind the nearest tree as he slowly crouches down, hunkering into the dense greenery and almost disappearing in his dirty brown clothes. His rifle comes up, and for the first time, I feel inadequately prepared for this. Francisco’s old bolt-action is large caliber, heavy, and able to pierce the jungle foliage.
On the other hand, my knife is only useful in hand-to-hand combat, whether with man or beast. If it’s one of the cartel guys, I’m not sure I’ll even have a chance to get close enough for the knife to be an asset. They’ll likely shoot from yards away. And an animal? Well, they’re accustomed to stalking prey in these treed hunting grounds, so they definitely have the advantage.
Suddenly, the silence is broken by the rapid burping sounds that I’ve heard in my nightmares and woken up in cold sweats hearing, the distinctive chattering sound of the AK-47 on full auto. A symphony of death only intensified by the ripping paper sound of leaves being punctured, the occasional thwok of a round hitting a tree, and the screeching of the surrounding wildlife as everything not of the human species busts ass for the exit.
As soon as the first shot rings out, I press myself against the tree I’m behind, dropping my pack and making myself as small a target as possible.
Scanning the terrain, I look to Francisco to see his take on the situation. I’m a leader, a doer, and have been in war more times than any man should. But this is his jungle and I’m the interloper, so I’ll use my resources wisely.
From in front of us, I hear a booming voice speaking so fast I can’t catch it to let my brain translate. But I see the tension release from Francisco and the other two guards.
Francisco looks to me, a wide smile showing the gaps in his teeth. “Okay, Norte. Conosco. With us.”
He yells back, garbled and loud. A moment later, there are footsteps on the leaves in the underbrush, a deep rustling, and the occasional crack as a branch is stepped on.
I hold my position, not willing to take Francisco’s word on things until I can see for myself. I keep my eyes trained on where the sound is coming from and suddenly, a big, sweaty guy in a tank top emerges through the misty greenery.
He smiles at Francisco, but it falls instantly when he sees me behind a tree. He lifts his AK again, aiming at me, and I can see he’s a half-second away from firing when Francisco steps between us like a damned fool, a human shield.
He holds his palms out, one to me and one to the other man. “No, is okay! Nikolai safe passage!”
Their bickering switches to Portuguese, and is fast, but I catch enough to realize that the newcomer didn’t know about this trip. But with Francisco and his two guys all saying the same thing, he’s inclined to believe them. Finally, with a sneer in my direction, he lowers his gun and nods.
I pull my pack back on as Francisco talks quickly with the man. A few minutes later, we melt back into the jungle, the burly guy disappearing in the other direction as he resumes his patrols.
But now I know that I was right.
There are eyes on me from all around.
Chapter 34
Carly
After checking out of the no-tell motel, we’ve made it as far as the diner down the street, where we sit in a booth made of vinyl and plastic and not much else.
But it’s hard to fuck up eggs and toast. Coffee? That’s easy to mess up, but thankfully, the cup sitting in front of me is steaming hot and bitter. Not Strega’s, but damn good nevertheless.
As I shovel a bite of over-easy egg onto my fork with a bit of toast, I look at Kyle, leery that he’s going to shut right back up again. Screw two. We just went a good ten steps forward, and I’m fully expecting the backslide to be epic this time.
But I’m hoping that the progress I’ve made into his inner psyche will get me back to this plateau and we can continue growing from here. It’s a huge hope, but for some reason, I’m feeling hopeful today.
A question has been burning on my brain since I first saw him, and I look squarely in his eyes but lift a flirty eyebrow to keep it non-confrontational. “How’d you end up in NYC from Italy?”
“A plane.”
I pause, toast half-lifted to my mouth and egg dripping down my fingers like the lady I’m not. “Jokes? You’ve got jokes. What miracle will you show me next?”
He shrugs, and there’s a tilt to his lips that makes me think he likes the compliment. But he didn’t answer the question, which seems intentional. Everything with Kyle is intentional.
“All right, I’ll let you skip that for now then. How about . . . what’s next? Where are we going after breakfast?” I look out the window at the people hustling by. It’s not crowded, exactly, just that constant pervasiveness of people you always feel in New York.
There’s not really anywhere, or any hour, to truly b
e alone here in the city that never sleeps. I guess in some ways it’s an effective camouflage, since you can melt into a crowd anywhere, anytime, but it makes me feel like Robert or my parents could be walking right next to me and I might not even notice. Vulnerable, that’s what the crowd here makes me feel.
“To find Nathan Stone.” The words are easy but weighted with importance as he murmurs them. I’m honestly not sure whether he’s answering me or talking to himself.
Chewing my too-big mouthful of food, I murmur, “What do you want Nathan for?”
Kyle’s eyes narrow and his voice grows rough. “You say that like you know him.”
I swallow the rest of my mouthful. “Kinda. Just met him. My bestie is dating him. Dating? Not sure that’s the word. But she’s seeing him.”
Click.
With a single sentence, the monster is back. Every muscle in Kyle’s body tenses, and if he wasn’t staring so intently at me, I’d probably look around to gauge the threat triggering the response. But he’s not looking behind me at somebody sneaking up on us.
Oh, no. He’s leaning forward, invading my space across the table and grabbing my hand in a decidedly not-flirty way.
“Where is he?” he demands.
It doesn’t occur to me to lie, not to him. Not even for Emma.
“Probably at home? I came to New York to see Emma’s play—that’s my best friend,” I offer plainly, trying to keep my voice level. “She’s an actress and her opening night was last night. He was going to watch her big debut, so I’d guess they’re probably still in bed, celebrating.”
I waggle my brows, trying to lighten the darkness that’s descended back over Kyle’s mood. But still, the intensity of his eyes troubles me.
If he’s here to meet Nathan, I expect him to focus on where Nathan lives, or maybe whatever info I might have, but his next words surprise me. “You were supposed to see her play last night? That’s why you came here?”
Power Play: A Romance Collection Page 29