Counter Strike

by Beth Rhodes

  With her mouth taped over, only her eyes protested. Silence. Beautiful silence. She had been quite vocal when he’d first arrived, her dislike of him evident. He admired her spirit.

  But lately, his life seemed filled with noise—the campaign, the protests from his own people. He’d done more for these people than they could ever repay, but they complained, whined, and bitched. The work was too hard. The drugs were bringing crime to their fucking perfect little lives.

  The drugs brought solvency! They brought economic growth.

  His guard lifted the small woman from the seat. She struggled, a token effort, which he appreciated but put a stop to with one swift slap.

  Martinez crowded her, bent over to her level, and spoke into her ear. “Keep it up old lady, and when I get my hands on your granddaughter, she is going to pay. Just like your son did.”

  The old nag’s eyes went wide, and she acquiesced…her gaze never wavered, though. Almost like a challenge. Hard-core strength of spirit. He needed people like her in his circle.

  Martinez nodded to his men.

  “Burn it down.”

  She did struggle then, though. Sentimental old fool.

  As they drove away, a cloud of smoke rose into the sky, covering the brightly lit moon.

  Now, the one he wanted would come to him.

  ***

  Jamie woke every half hour, like clockwork. He listened to the sounds of the forest, waited for anything unnatural to alert him to man’s presence nearby then closed his eyes again.

  It was close to two when the rain started, just a drizzle. He glanced over at the Mylar thermal he’d hung out in order to trap the water. The trees surrounding them made the perfect posts. It sagged in the middle as it collected water. They’d have plenty to fill their bottles in the morning.

  With his elbow propped, he rested his head in his hand. Missy stirred against him, curling her body more closely to his. He brushed a stray hair from her face.

  In the years after her rescue, he’d taught her how to stay hidden, how to protect herself. She’d soaked up everything she could on self-defense and combative moves, wrestling…and staying the hell alive. More than one wrestling match had ended with them a tangle of limbs.

  And him, hard as a rock.

  He smiled at the thought of their first kiss. She’d taken it…made the leap, when he’d been too afraid. What had he known about timing? About maintaining an appropriate distance?

  According to her, too much.

  Now she carried his child. Holy shit!

  He dragged the edge of her shirt up her abdomen. Her belly looked exactly the same. No sign at all. He cupped her breast. They’d been different…he’d noticed the difference but hadn’t let himself linger. Sliding his hand back down to her waist, he rested his palm against her navel and felt the slow thump of her heartbeat.

  Laying his head back down, he closed his eyes. Another hour at best.

  He wanted to be up before the sun and on their way.

  Her fingers wrapped around his wrist—warm and familiar—and trailed up his arm then back down. Slowly, she moved his hand down, sliding it under her waistband to cup her, and pressed his hand against her soft flesh before threading their fingers together.

  He groaned. She lifted her hips to him, and he slid his fingers home. Gently. Jesus. He kissed her, found her lips in the cool, dark of the night and warmed himself with her love. Her arms came around him to hold him.

  Hello, he wanted to fill her, to complete her…and to keep her safe. And here they were in the middle of Mexico—on the run, not safe at all. He kissed down her neck, ran his fingers down the length of her thigh and back up.

  Every brush of their skin and glance of limb reminded him of both her frailty and her strength. He kneaded the strong muscles of her back. Massaged hands—agile and quick. Damn, what she could do with those hands.

  They made love in silence, as if the forest was listening, and his breath grew short as he held off coming, taking it easy on thrusting into…geez, what if he hurt something? Maybe they should have talked about this. “Missy.”

  She held his face, met his next—very gentle—thrust, and stroked him, squeezing him from base to tip.

  “Oh, God.” He came, pumped into her, again and again. He rested his forehead against her breasts, slowed his hips, and slid in and out, in and out. And then she came too, tightening around him, as she made that familiar sound at the back of her throat.

  And breathed as her eyes drifted closed.

  Missy held her lips at his temple and rubbed her nose up and down on his hairline. “You don’t have to do that,” she whispered. “Hold back, I mean. We can have a healthy sex life, even if I’m pregnant.”

  He grimaced. “You noticed.” But he knew she’d gotten there. Thank goodness for that, at least. “It’s silly, I guess, huh?”

  “No.”

  “Sorta cliché though. The dumb guy who doesn’t know jack about…” He pointed to her belly and circled his finger, which made her chuckle. And she reached for his hand. His gut tightened. Her touch did things to him.

  A snap of a twig.

  He froze, held his breath, and gripped her hand. He held a finger to his lips. Getting off of her and shimmying back into his pants, he reached for the sidearm under his jacket where he’d laid his head last night. “Don’t move,” he said and slipped out. He did a close radial recon of their location then moved out.

  He paused before going further.

  There’d been nothing on his gut radar. No lights, no sounds since that snap. Only the sounds of nature—crickets and squirrels. Probably a deer. He turned back. It was time to pack up and get to Tom’s.

  One step later and that twig snap sounded again.

  “Jamie!” The squeaky sound in Missy’s voice sent him forward, gun at his side.

  A low growl, like a rumble, came from the camp. He broke through the last line of trees and came to a halt, heart pounding.

  A big cat—beautifully spotted—stood opposite the opening to their cave. Its gaze moved to him and back to the cave entrance.

  Jamie ran at the cat, waving his arms and yelling. It jerked in surprise, jumping in place, and then sprinted away. Okay. Not that big a deal. Just a cat, not a house cat, but... “I told you to stay.” His heart was pounding so hard.

  “I had to pee.”

  “Next time use a damn corner.” Anger. Shit, he was angry.

  “I’m sorry,” she answered quickly. “Stupid.”

  “Yeah. What if that had been Martinez? What if they’d gotten me and come for you?”

  Her silence cracked into his conscience.

  “Come on. Let’s pack up. We should go.” Jamie’s heart was starting to slow.

  Missy turned away and began a trek toward the treeline.

  “Where the fuck are you going now?”

  “I have to pee,” she answered, in a tone revealing that perhaps she wasn’t completely docile. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Don’t go far,” he bit off as he began to pack.

  Holy crap. What if it had been a big cat, a bear? A man? He stopped, the straps of his bag tight in his grip, and let out a slow breath.

  It hadn’t been, and she was fine.

  “I could have taken care of myself.” Missy returned, ready to fight.

  He grunted.

  “The cat startled me. I wasn’t expecting him.”

  Jamie glanced up.

  “You know I can take of myself, Jamie.”

  Did he? She seemed so vulnerable. Hadn’t been tested by life in a long time.

  “Jamie.”

  At her demand, he finally stood up straight and caught her gaze. They worked out together. They sparred. He made sure she could take care of herself. “I know.”

  She nodded. “Good.”

  “That cat doesn’t count, though, Missy.”

  “Maybe. And I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “You should have waited.”

  “Okay
.”

  “Okay.” He nodded.

  She picked up her bag and started the methodical process of filling it.

  “Hey,” he said.

  She glanced up at him.

  “If you make enough noise, most animals will run away.”

  She gave him a wary, disbelieving look.

  “Serious,” he added and smiled, doing his best to relieve the tension. “I over-reacted.”

  She nodded but there was a shine of tears in her eyes. But when he took a step toward her, she shook her head and waved him back. “I’m fine. You go get the water bottles filled. I don’t need a hug.”

  He didn’t care. He cupped her face and gently kissed her lips. “You would steal my chance to be the conquering hero? And gain a kiss as my reward?”

  “Ah,” she said and smiled, “My hero,” then she gave him a shove. “Now go, so you can lead us out of this jungle.”

  Put in perspective, the cat incident was far less scary than being chased by men.

  Jamie gathered the empty water bottles. If he had a bucket, this would be easier.

  Picking up one of the bottles, he held the mylar blanket tight on the edge and carefully tugged it down, just enough for a stream of water to spill into the opening.

  “How much will we get?” Missy came out and set their bags down. As she turned, she took her length of hair in hand and twisted it at the nape of her neck then slipped the hair-tie off her wrist and secured it.

  He finished filling the bottle and picked up the next. “Should be able to fill all of them with some left over.” He glanced over. “Have you eaten anything?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Eat.”

  Missy took out another granola bar. “If I never eat a granola bar again, it will be too soon.” But she worked it, chewing slowly and then swallowing.

  “Good girl.”

  She grunted and got up. “So, we can drink the rainwater but not the water from the rivers…”

  “God-filtered. Purest water around,” he said as he filled the last bottle, capped it, then began untying the corner.

  “Except for the bottle.”

  He laughed. “Maybe.”

  Missy took the opposite corner and together they dumped what was left of the dew and rainwater before folding it into a pouch the size of his hand.

  “It’s so dang small.”

  He grinned. “Space technology at its best.”

  Into his rucksack it went. She took her bag this morning, and he didn’t object. There’d be plenty of chances to carry her load in the next few hours.

  He planned to push them hard and fast over the mountain range. Ever since their dip in the river, his need to reconnect with his team grew, pestering his conscience. He wasn’t a loner. Didn’t like this feeling of being at the mercy of whatever and whomever was out there.

  “We got this,” she said, making him realize that he’d gotten lost in thought while waiting for her.

  She was ready.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  They continued their travel through dense forest, the cover of the trees above offering relief from the heat of the sun as well as trapping all the humidity close to the ground. On the bright side, it was gorgeous. It had been a long time since she’d been mired in a heat that wasn’t swept up in the breezes of the coast.

  But Missy felt a hundred times better today, keeping up with him, and that made her proud. There’d been no sign of morning sickness either. It seemed getting naked with Jamie had sent a burst of energy through her.

  There had been the familiar of his love when they came together, but there was also something else. In his touch. A desperation—no—a need that made her throat tighten, even now.

  She cleared her throat.

  Jamie glanced over at her, his gaze moving from her head to her feet. He walked as if he knew where they were going. She tried not to let it bug her. The element of the unknown, this uncertainty, played a tug-of-war with her desires to put an end to Martinez and to leave it all behind and go home.

  A breeze, marked by the pungent smell of the damp earth behind them, brushed her face. Not exactly relief.

  The voice of a boy, bursting out in laughter, had her grabbing Jamie’s arm.

  Jamie’s hand went to the weapon he’d put at his side. Missy’s grip tightened.

  A small child raced into the clearing, slashing through the shrubs with his sword made of wood. Two more followed him, one a good bit older…almost a man. He spoke in rapid Spanish to the kid, who stopped to stare at the unusual site of two strangers in what was obviously their territory.

  Jamie raised his hands, signaling they meant no harm. “We are just passing through,” he said, using Spanish.

  The older one took a step forward, chest out and a fierce expression on his face.

  Missy’s pulse jumped, and she stepped forward to speak, but Jamie put himself between her and the young man.

  The young man spoke, English this time, “You,” he pointed to her. “You come with me.”

  “Where she goes, I go.” Jamie tensed, unmoving.

  The young man scowled. “Vosotros dos.” He waved them to come and moved back the way he’d come through the tree line on the opposite side of the clearing. The younger boys brought up the rear, their playful chatter, starting back up.

  Missy looked over at Jamie.

  He glanced from her to the path ahead of them. “Maybe they’ll have a car we can use.”

  She narrowed her gaze. “You don’t mean steal, do you?”

  He shrugged, and she knew he’d do anything to protect her. “It would be good to get you off your feet and get us back with the team.”

  Missy bit at her lip. “He asked for me. What if he’s one of Martinez’s men?”

  “He isn’t.”

  “How do you know?” she asked, the feeling of exasperation filling her chest. Always in the dark.

  Jamie took her arm, circled his hand on her bicep. “He wears a black band around his arm. It’s how the Patriot Union identifies its members.”

  “Padre told you.”

  “Yes. I filed it away. Almost forgot about it, until I saw the boy.”

  They followed for about twenty minutes before they walked back out of the woods and into a clearing. A small village. Missy’s throat tightened. A buzzing muffled her ears as images from long ago broke from her subconscious into present day.

  Voices carried on the sweet air, the familiar language of her youth. She heard her full name spoken—Marguerite.

  The village was a collection of huts that covered the side of the hill.

  And along the road, where their trail from the woods started, three modest, yet bigger, structures made up the center of life. A church, a community center of sorts, and the local administration.

  A man came toward them and spread his arms. “The daughter of Carmen Fuentes, welcome.”

  Confusion raced through her. “How—?”

  The man’s smile put her at ease. “I am Rafael Arbol. You may call me Rafe.”

  The shy woman at his side came forward, took Missy’s hand, and folded it within her own. She had silver highlights in her hair but the smoothest, prettiest skin Missy had ever seen. Her dark brown eyes shone with an unexpected warmth. “My name is Maria.”

  She patted the back of Missy’s hand as they walked toward one of the buildings, Jamie close at Missy’s side. His eyes watched everything, taking in every figure, every shadow.

  She could feel the tension radiating from him. She gripped his hand with her free one and squeezed it. He squeezed back.

  “You have nothing to worry from us,” the leader of the village reassured them as if he, too, could feel their anxiety.

  “If you don’t mind my asking, what are you doing out here?” Jamie asked.

  “We are waiting for a day when Martinez no longer holds the power to determine our future. Out here, we are free to raise our children in peace. We have no fear that they will be taken from us, that we will be take
n from them.”

  “But—” Missy started but didn’t quite know where to go. There was no grocery store, no market. “How do you support yourselves?”

  The man laughed, a big hearty sound. “We live off the land. Everyone has a garden, and we each have stores of necessities—fabrics, soaps, household goods, like toilet paper. We share what God has given us.”

  A baby, in only a pair of linen pants and a diaper, toddled over, dark curly hair spilled down his back. He glanced up shyly and patted Missy’s knee. Jamie crouched in front of him and put out his hand. The kid took Jamie’s hand in two cute, fat fists and pumped it as he jumped on chubby legs.

  Jamie chuckled, picking the kid up, and rested him on his hip.

  “No vehicle?” Jamie asked, continuing the bounce.

  “We have one. It makes emergency runs into the nearest town or to get items from the store. We limit ourselves, though. It’s an old beat-up junker. One of the men is a mechanic who used to work for Martinez. He does what he can to keep it running.”

  People didn’t get away from Martinez. She understood that at a very personal level. “You all are in hiding.”

  The man nodded. “Like you.”

  Their very presence here put these people in danger.

  “We are on our way to an airfield just over these mountains,” Jamie said, “Tom McCarthy. Do you know him?”

  Missy pulled Jamie back. “Maybe we should continue on our own, over the hills, Jamie.”

  “No.” Rafe was shaking his head. “We will help you. Maria, get our guests some food and drink. You can rest, and Javier will get the Jeep running and bring it around.” The man held a hand out to Missy. “My dear. Come with me so I can show you why God lead you here.”

  It had been a long time since anyone spoke of God so casually. Had God led her here? Or had Antonio kidnapped her and forced her to go on the run? Yeah, that sounded more accurate. But when she looked to Jamie, her heart melted at the sight of him with that baby in his arms—dang it, and he gave her a shrug and followed Rafe through the doors. This was an answer tohis dilemma—protect her.

  The town’s main building held a school room on one side, school desks lined up in five rows, and a gathering place on the other. The gathering space held two longer, picnic-like tables with bench seating and in the corner was set up an area for music—guitars, a drum set, and even a set of stringed instruments hanging on the wall.