Counter Strike

by Beth Rhodes

  Too much could happen during that kind chaos.

  “Hey, it is,” she said, tugging on his grip.

  “If it were up to me, we wouldn’t wait. This whole mess of getting involved with your uncle, whatever-it-is-he’s-doing, is going to blow up in our faces.”

  “You always do see the worst-case scenario, don’t you?”

  “It’s my job.”

  “Yeah, I get it.”

  He stepped over a log and held out his hand. Missy took it and jumped over, her hand on his shoulder. She stopped next to him and wrapped an arm around his waist. Fear slithered through his veins. Keep her safe.

  He kept the pace up, knowing the longer they went, the slower she’d go. At an hour out, he stopped for a break. They’d gone about three miles, which wasn’t far enough. Not far enough at all. The forest covered the path like a canopy, but up ahead the sun shone through the branches. And always at his back was the feeling of pursuance. “Just a quick break.”

  “We can keep going,” she disagreed.

  But he shook his head. “No. Stop for a minute.” His team was used to running hard when necessary. She ran for the fun of it. Add stress, central Mexico heat, and the baby. Jesus….the baby. He stomach twisted. “Water,” he said, ignoring what had to be the sudden rise in his blood pressure.

  He pulled a bottle from his pack and handed it over.

  Missy sipped it, eyeing him suspiciously, then capped it and handed it back. “Ready.”

  He didn’t have an excuse to keep them there.

  Because she was strong.

  They went a few hundred yards more into a space where the trees were shorter and their cover disappeared, when the sound of a helicopter beat against the air, too far away to distinguish, but close enough to worry him.

  “Will it come this way?” Missy whispered.

  “I don’t know,” he answered truthfully. Ahead of them, but east of their direction, a tree line rose up from the hills. “We’ll head in that direction, take cover and keep moving.”

  “But we’re supposed to be headed west, right?”

  “We have to get under the trees.” He pointed out beyond the trees to the mountain range. “See that dark line just behind the trees but before the mountains? That’s a valley, maybe a stream. We’ll head west when we get to it. We’ll have to cross one mountain range before we get to Tom’s.”

  “They don’t look too bad.”

  “Ha.”

  She pulled her shirt over her head and stripped down to her camisole. Okay.

  The helicopter kept up a low hum, first heading in one direction and then the next. A grid search pattern—moving east and then west behind them, following them north. He prayed to God that Padre Franco was okay.

  The urge to go faster built inside of him. He pulled her forward. They’d almost reached the trees when Missy tripped on a rock. He stopped short and pulled her hand up to keep her from taking a knee. She helped by gripping his arm. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I’m sorry.” He was going too fast. But the instant she had her feet back under her, he moved forward again. The helicopter was too close.

  On the next pass of the helicopter, he noted the distinct change in direction. Whoever was up there was expanding their search and getting closer. “We need to run. Can you run?”

  She looked back and up into the sky, not questioning him but confirming. She nodded, let go of his hand, and ran, sprinting in front of him for half of that distance. He caught up and matched her pace.

  On the next pass of the helicopter, he took her hand and pulled, needing her to go faster. Still not fast enough, he came up behind her, and lifted her from the ground. She let out a surprised squeak and held on.

  And then they were finally under the cover of trees.

  He kept going, another half mile or more.

  Finally stopping, he set her down. He didn’t pretend he wasn’t winded. The adrenaline alone had set his pulse racing. She rubbed his back, her gaze watching behind them for any sign that the helicopter had seen them. “I think they turned back south.”

  “They know we’re here.” He had to assume, had to assume the worst.

  “Jamie?”

  “I need a fucking cell phone…cell service.”

  “Oh, wait. Hold on. I almost forgot. I have my backup phone and portable cell tower in my bag. Here let me get it out.” She took her bag from her back and set it on the ground in front of her. Instead of reaching to open it, she stared at him.

  “Right.” Not helping, Jamie. “Sorry. We need a change of plans.”

  “A vehicle would be nice,” she suggested. Then she stepped up to him. “We can do this. Show me. We have to get to Tom’s. How far is it? Fifteen miles? Fifty?”

  “Missy—”

  “We keep going, Jamie.” She gripped his arm. “How far?”

  “A good ten miles, if we don’t have to detour again.” But he knew it would be far from easy.

  He didn’t like the feeling of resignation that filled him. “Let’s go.” With the compass out, he redirected them…straight over the peak. He remembered being in the Rockies in Colorado.

  This should be a breeze in comparison.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  They had three water bottles left, and Missy was damn thirsty but didn’t want to slow them down or use more of their supply. He’d wanted them to get as far as possible today, but they were behind schedule. Not good, and definitely her fault.

  Jamie didn’t say anything, didn’t have to. It was in the way he concentrated and the way he walked. Determination and focus.

  The heat of the afternoon pressed down on her. Her shortness of breath was starting to get annoying. The sound of it echoed through her head, like a huffing train, like the trains that had passed her house when she was a kid, taking Martinez product from their village back out to the ports in Veracruz.

  The thought alone kept her going. This was her purpose, to put an end to running and hiding and living in fear. If she left now, she would always be looking over her shoulder.

  She stopped for a moment, finally giving in to the need for water. By the time Jamie noticed, she’d recapped the bottle and tucked it back into the side pocket of her bag.

  Ten feet ahead of her, he frowned. She took a breath and walked toward him. Her smile felt funny on her face. Her head felt light, her feet heavy. As if she’d overdone it. Shit. Her feet were on autopilot though, one in front of the other, until she reached him.

  “You okay?”

  She nodded. She was fine. It was hiking, just a level above walking. She ran miles in a week. This was nothing. But her brain wasn’t quite working as it should. She reached for his hand, hoping that would help. And it did, he boosted her pace, kept her going until a funky twitch in her leg made her stumble. Her muscles were protesting as she went to her knees.

  Jamie’s pack landed next to her, and then he was laying her down and rolling her to her side. Like a ragdoll, she had no control but didn’t even care.

  “Breathe, babe.” His hands were on her leg, massaging the spasming muscle.

  Water poured over her face, and she made a funny sound in protest. God, she needed her brain to work. She awkwardly swiped at the water bottle he held over her head and swore she could hear him chuckle. “Now drink it, Missy,” his voice was soft, comforting. Maybe she’d imagined the amused laughter.

  She lapped at the water he was only half-successfully getting into her mouth. Then she turned her head away and took a deep breath. He helped her sit up and leaned her against a tree. Pine needles guarded her from the dirt beneath, and the ground was warm. One small rock bit into her left butt cheek but she was too out-of-it too shift.

  “You have to tell me when you start feeling badly,” he said firmly, a reprimand. He ran a hand through his already mussed up hair. She wanted to get her fingers in there as well—calm the mess, mess it up more, either way.

  She cleared her throat. “I didn’t—”

  “But you
have to,” he interrupted, his voice abrupt, his tone making her focus.

  Missy reached up and took his hand. “I will. From now on, I promise, I’ll pay better attention.”

  He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his fingers into the sockets. He did that…with the stress. “Okay.” He blew out a breath. “Okay.” He crouched down next to her. “We’re too damn far from help. If we need to, we’ll make frequent stops. You drink the water.”

  She opened her mouth to speak…to disagree. He needed water too.

  He cut her off. “You drink it, damn it.”

  “We can share, and we can ration. If you slow the pace a bit…”

  Jamie was shaking his head. “We have plenty of water. Drink what you need. That’s most important right now. We’ve got a couple more hours until we’ll need to stop for the night. When we do…we’ll find a water source.”

  “We can’t drink from the rivers or creeks, Jamie.”

  “We’ll set up something to collect water from the sky.”

  Missy glanced up. Not a cloud in the sky.

  “If not rain than we’ll get what we can from the moisture in the air. There’s always dew in the morning. It won’t be as much, but it will be something.”

  Her leg still sore, Missy began stretching her muscles, working from her toes up. When she no longer felt like she might as well cut her leg off, she got her feet under her and, reaching down, walked her hands out in front of her to stretch the ankles. She lifted her rear up into downward dog and pressed back, tugging at those muscles on the back of her legs.

  When she walked her hands back and rose all the way up, she found Jamie hungry-eyeing her. She grinned.

  He rolled his eyes. “Lord, have mercy.”

  He didn’t let her take her bag, though, and that bothered her.

  But she knew when to fight, and now wasn’t the time, not when she’d just made a fool of herself almost passing out on the trail and putting them both at risk. He took the trail at a slower pace, too.

  No biggie, she kept telling herself. Just keep moving. They stopped twice before the sun began its slow descent, the shadows and colors creating an ethereal vision beneath the canopy of trees.

  Jamie stopped in front of her with a raised hand, indicating she should stop.

  She held her breath, freezing in place. And then she heard it, the steady hum of an engine and the sound of voices. Her heart pounded, discovery a real possibility. He held up his wait-a-minute finger and crept forward.

  She wanted to hiss at him to stop, but she kept her mouth closed and waited.

  When he got to the top of the hill, he waved her up.

  The darkening skies made it hard to see as she climbed up and crouched beside him.

  Over the rise, bright lights lit a dirt road. Beyond the road, the hill was bare but for tree stumps. At the base of the hill, trees were being loaded on to big trucks.

  Logging. Illegal logging.

  “We’re in the national forest here,” she leaned in and whispered to Jamie. Old instincts resurfaced, she quietly unzipped her bag and pulled her Nikon out. The soft whir and click pumped through her blood. “Martinez?”

  Jamie grunted, a non-answer.

  They watched from the distance. Men, like ants, swarming the partially cleared hillside. Cranes and trucks dotted the road below as trees were felled and then loaded. She hadn’t seen an operation like this…ever. Hell, she didn’t realize there were still people worthy to be called lumberjacks. No flannel, though—too hot.

  Men were stripping the trees of their limbs and cutting them down.

  Jamie grunted, a silent-like response, his eyes bright and sharp, taking it all in. She followed his gaze to a small group of men at the end of the dirt road. All of them carried weapons. Big guns of all sorts.

  “Come on,” Jamie whispered.

  Missy zoomed in on a man high up in a tree, took her last shot, and quickly slipped back into the trees on a path through the dense woods. Jamie guided them away from the operation and up into the forest.

  She hurried to catch up and slipped her camera back into her pack. He glanced back, slowing. “Thanks,” she said.

  The first hour passed quickly.

  Birds made a ruckus above their heads, sometimes swooping low to check out the intruders. They were deep in the woods now, the canopy above blocking out the sun, cutting the heat a good bit. “How much further to Tom’s?”

  “We’ll stop for the night, but I’m guessing we have about four hours left to Tom’s.” Jamie dropped one of the bags. “We can set up camp here then get up early and hike out the rest before lunch.”

  When she looked at him, he was staring at her. She realized she hadn’t moved yet. Shaking off the funny feeling deep in her stomach, she rolled her shoulders to loosen them. Her stomach growled. “Hungry.”

  With a nod, he took another look around. The spot was cozy, tucked into the hill. Shorter trees or bushes circled one side. Jamie crossed over and walked beyond them.

  She opened her pack and found one of the granola bars at the bottom. She peeled the wrapper back.

  “Come here,” he called out.

  Missy glanced up as she took a satisfying bite and grabbed her camera, surprised by how instinctual it seemed. The soft ground was easy to tread and she came over the rise, she saw him first, standing tall and still on the path ahead of her. His red hair caught the breeze and brushed at his collar. Handsome. Hers.

  Click. Click. Whir.

  She stopped next to him, her breath hitching in her lungs at the sight. “Oh…”

  The sun, still high in the sky, had been hidden by trees for the last two hours, and here, at the top of this hill, it shone below them onto a natural pool, a small mountain lake hugged on three sides by lush green land and on one by sheer rock. Flowers trailed down the craggy surface to the mirror of water. Like cake decorations, pine trees topped the gray vertical rise opposite their position.

  “Oh, Jamie. It’s so beautiful.” She lifted the Nikon and snapped a few more photos.

  His hands were tucked into his pockets, his shoulders tense.

  Missy stepped up and looped her hand through his elbow. She rested her head against his arm and felt the soft touch of his lips on the top of her head. “Pretty,” he said, understating it. There was melancholy in his voice. “So peaceful.” And longing there too.

  Her heart broke, as understanding melted through her.

  He wanted to marry her. He wanted this baby. He talked about going home.

  And right now, she was standing in his way.

  She didn’t apologize. He wouldn’t appreciate that. She did tug him back, “Come on,” and was happy when he put his arm over her shoulders. Coming in from the opposite direction gave them a view of an opening to a small cave at the campground. Not deep, not dark, almost like an alcove in the side of the hill.

  Though the weather had cooled, the cubbyhole in the hill created a barrier from the wind and chill they’d have over night. Jamie picked up her bag and it and his down in a corner of their temporary lodging.

  “Do you think other people have used this spot?” she murmured as she crouched down and tucked her hardware back into her bag. Her lower back moaned in protest.

  “Probably,” he answered.

  Leaves piled across the floor. She wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing, as thoughts of critters skated through her mind. Jamie must have been thinking the same thing. He swept his booted foot across the uneven ground. It wasn’t exactly mattress soft, but nothing came scurrying out either. A plus.

  He opened his bag and pulled a small item from the bottom. Shaking it out to reveal the thin blanket, he laid it out across the floor and then sat with his back to the wall opposite the opening. “Come on,” he said and patted the spot next to him.

  Missy stepped forward, groaning in protestation when her thigh muscles tensed. All of a sudden, she didn’t care about bugs or critters or rocks or anything. She sat next to Jamie, her back to the cool
rock, took a minute to let her body relax, and then changed her mind. Screw sitting. She scooted so she could lay against the length of his legs, her head in his lap.

  Sleep didn’t come immediately, but the comfort of being near Jamie, even the sounds of the forest just beyond the entrance to the cave, lulled her into a rest mode.

  “Have you talked to your family yet?” she said. “Let them know you are okay?”

  “Haven’t had a chance.”

  “We should go see them.” She wasn’t usually one to instigate a visit, but things were different now…with a baby between them.

  “We’ll get married when we’re there.”

  She lifted her head, rolled to her back, so she was facing up, and he looked down at her. A kernel of uncertainty tightened in her chest. “And then what?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter to me so much.”

  She frowned. “But…it should. This is your life. My life.”

  “Missy, in what ways are we not married?”

  That stopped her. “That piece of paper means a lot, it means you can never change your mind, ever—till death do us part.”

  “I’m not the only one who could change his mind,” he said. “You’ve done some mind-changing lately, too.” She felt as much as heard his sigh. “And you’re complicating this for no reason.”

  “I don’t want you stuck,” she whispered.

  She’d lost everyone she loved. Was she waiting for the last shoe to drop? Would she give everything and lose him, too?

  His fingers ran through her hair again, the comfort of it making her vision blur from the unexpected tears. “Maybe I want to be stuck, Missy.”

  When he walked away for work, he always came back.

  So why was she worried now?

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Take the woman,” Martinez spoke, his voice staying calm and quiet. The house smelled of rice and mouthwatering spices. There must have been an overripe pepper somewhere, because it hung beneath the usual smells of home. The scent of the flowers on the table lifted into the air.

  And it looked pretty.

  This is where Diego had grown up, where his daughter had come when she needed to escape. The years hadn’t been kind to the structure, but he could tell the woman worked to keep the place respectable.