Fatal Pursuit (The Aegis Series)

by Elisabeth Naughton

  The line clicked dead in his ear. Pocketing his phone, Jake’s almost-good mood plummeted. He hoped like hell the guy wasn’t a boyfriend. That was just going to muddy things up for Marley, especially after five years. But his gut was already screaming that was the only logical answer. He couldn’t think of another scenario that would make Marley drop everything—including him—and rush to a dangerous country alone.

  This was cozy. Too close and cozy after her moment with Jake on the stairs.

  Marley wanted nothing more than to shift to her left, closer to the driver, so she wasn’t plastered against Jake on the bench seat of the rusted pickup. But if she did that, Jake would know she was awake. And that would mess up her plan to ignore him on the drive toward Bruhia.

  The middle-aged Colombian man Jake had paid to drive them—Manuel—hummed along to salsa music on the radio. Normally, that wouldn’t bother her, but she was hot, sweaty, and still a little hung over from the night before. And every time they went over a rock or pothole in the dirt road, it jostled her in her seat and knocked her into Jake at her side. Jake, who was radiating waves of heat that only sent jolts of awareness through every inch of her body. Jake, who wasn’t taking the hint that she was too hung over to talk just yet and had spent the last two hours shifting in his seat, sighing repeatedly, and muttering under his breath.

  The rig bounced over something big in the road, and Marley bumped into him, her arms flying up in the air. Before she could lay her head back down and feign sleep, Jake said, “Nice of you to finally wake up.”

  She closed her eyes and tipped her head away from him. “Wake me when we get there.”

  “I don’t think so. You’ve had your sleep. It’s time you continued talking.”

  Sighing, Marley shifted upright in her seat and moved as far from him as she could get, which really was only a centimeter. “You’re like a dog with a bone, you know that?”

  “Which is why I’m so good at what I do. Tell me about McKnight.”

  Marley exhaled a long breath. She’d been overly optimistic when she thought he’d let this line of questioning go. She brushed the hair out of her eyes. “I already told you he was a friend.”

  “What kind of friend? That’s the question here, isn’t it?”

  Marley couldn’t quite read him. The words were spoken in a calm and even tone, but she could tell from the tense line of his shoulders that something was bothering him. Something other than the fact she’d taken his plane. “Why do you care what kind of friend he was? Does it matter?”

  “No.” He glanced out the window. “Why would it matter? I’m just trying to figure out what you dragged me into.”

  Okay, he was definitely being moody about something, but Marley had no clue what. Before their little moment on the stairs, he’d been cocky as always. “For the record, I didn’t drag you into anything. If you remember correctly, you forced your way in by bullying my brother.”

  “You’re right, I did. And why didn’t I know you have a brother?”

  She could barely keep up with him. Now he was frustrated she hadn’t told him about Ronan? He’d never seemed interested in her family life other than to play nice with her father, who was his closest rival for clients. “I wasn’t aware we were trading family secrets, Jake. Tell you what. You go first. Let’s talk about all your father’s indiscretions.”

  He shot her a look. “Don’t go there, Marley.”

  Manuel stopped humming and glanced their way.

  She’d hit a serious nerve with that one. She knew it and immediately regretted the low blow. Jake’s relationship with his father was a sore spot for him, even years after his father’s death. Though she wasn’t entirely sure why.

  Marley reminded herself to stay calm. That was how she got through everything with Jake. She forgot how frustrated and hot he made her and focused on keeping the peace. “What do you really want to know?”

  “I want to know who the hell this guy is we’re risking our lives to rescue.”

  She nearly laughed. “We’re hardly risking our lives. We’re driving along a quiet jungle road. Sometimes you are so dramatic, Ryder.”

  “And sometimes you are just so”—Jake curled both hands into fists and clenched his jaw—“damn maddening.”

  “Hey, señorita,” Manuel asked at Marley’s side. “You want me kick him out of the truck?”

  “Hm, I might.” Marley grinned. She was kind of having fun with this. As much as she hadn’t wanted Jake to tag along, watching him get worked up for no apparent reason gave her a little thrill. “Hold that thought.” She glanced Jake’s way and lifted her brows.

  “God Almighty.” Jake rubbed his thumb and forefinger across his forehead. “I give up. I don’t know why I even try anymore.”

  Okay, enough was enough. She’d put him in his place. It was time to stop messing with him. “Gray and I used to date. He left on an op five years ago. Something went wrong on the mission. When my father came back, he told me Gray had been killed. Fast-forward to a couple of days ago when Gray called out of the blue asking for help, and you’re caught up to speed.”

  Jake dropped his hands, but he didn’t look her way. “So he’s your boyfriend.”

  “Was. Kind of hard to have a relationship with someone who’s been dead for five years, you know?”

  “Now you’re a comedian. Ha-ha.”

  There was no humor in his voice, but there was something different in his eyes. He was still irritated, but now there was a hint of . . . was that disappointment?

  No, she had to be seeing things again. Why would he be disappointed? Because she’d dated Gray? He’d never cared who she dated before. He’d never cared about her personal life, period.

  She gave herself a mental slap and looked back out the windshield. The more likely explanation was that he simply disapproved of her choice. Jake was one of the most opinionated men she knew. Another trait he shared with her father.

  “That’s all I know,” she said.

  “Why didn’t you call your father for help?”

  “Because he asked me not to tell my father. Whatever happened to him, he thinks my father was responsible.”

  When Jake’s brow lowered, Marley sighed. “Let’s get real, Jake. We both know how my dad works. He alienates people. It’s his way or the highway. My father made it clear that he wasn’t wild about my dating Gray right from the start. I don’t doubt that Gray and my father clashed five years ago. Just as I don’t doubt that my father had nothing to do with Gray’s disappearance. But Gray was already agitated on the phone when he called me. If my father was the one to show up to help him, I’m not sure Gray would go with him. That’s why I made the decision to come down here without Mason Addison.”

  She could see those wheels turning again in Jake’s mind as he stared at her, but before he could respond, Manuel slammed on the brakes, bringing the pickup to a jarring stop, hurling both Jake and Marley forward.

  Marley slammed into the dash with a grunt. Jake gripped her arm and pulled her back up on the seat beside him. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” She winced at a stab of pain in her side. “Seatbelts would have been nice. What the heck was that?”

  Manuel had already opened his door and stood in front of the truck, waving his arms. Marley’s gaze shot past him to the giant tree lying across the dirt road.

  “That,” Jake said, popping his door open, “looks like a roadblock.”

  “Shit.” Pressing a hand against her side where Jake must have elbowed her, Marley climbed out after him and stood in front of the truck with the men.

  The jungle rose up on both sides of the road. Vines wrapped around tree trunks and hung from the branches above. Several different species of palms littered the jungle floor, and everywhere birds chirping and animals moving could be heard. Even along the road, there was so little light from the dense canopy abo
ve, it was hard to see in the distance.

  Jake perched his hands on his hips and glanced around. “I don’t suppose there’s another way.”

  “No other way,” Manuel said. “Not unless we go back. Must have come down during last week’s storm.” He threw up his hands. “We have to chop it.”

  Marley’s brow lifted. The trunk alone had to be eighteen inches wide. They’d be here all night.

  Manuel moved around the back of the truck and reached for an ax from the bed. The rat-tat-tat of something loud echoed through the trees off to their right.

  Marley turned toward the sound. Manuel dropped the ax back into the bed. Jake grasped Marley’s hand and pulled her around the driver’s side of the truck.

  “What was that?” Marley asked.

  Jake’s eyes scanned the trees. “Sounded like gunfire. Two hundred yards away.”

  Manuel pulled the driver door open and scrambled inside. “Paramilitary. Very bad men. Very, very bad.” He grabbed Marley’s backpack and threw it onto the ground.

  Jake let go of Marley and stepped toward the door. “Hold on. Just what the hell do you think you’re—”

  Manuel chucked Jake’s backpack onto the ground next to Marley’s and slammed the door shut. “This as far as I go. Bruhia that way.” He pointed to the left, into the trees, in the opposite direction of the gunfire. “Good luck, amigos.”

  He shoved the truck into reverse. Dirt and gravel spit up in the air. The vehicle whipped around, then tore away.

  “Motherfucker!” Jake ran after the truck and smacked his hand along the tailgate, but Manuel floored it. Seconds later, all that was left was the crunch of gravel far off in the distance and the plume of dust he left in his wake.

  The ricochet of gunfire sounded behind them. Closer this time. Marley looked in that direction, a sense of foreboding rushing down her spine.

  “Son of a bitch.” Jake marched back to her. “Grab your pack.”

  Marley scooped up her backpack and tossed it on. “What the heck are we supposed to do now?”

  “Now we’re getting as far from that”—he nodded in the direction of the gunfire—“as we can.”

  He knelt in front of his pack and pulled out a Glock. After checking the magazine, he drew out a holster, which he strapped to his thigh, slid the weapon inside, then threw his pack on. “Colombian guerrillas and paramilitary. Two groups we do not want to run into out here in the jungle.”

  Marley strapped the buckle of her pack around her waist. “What do they want?”

  “The same thing all paramilitary groups want. Whatever the fuck they can get.” Jake shoved a palm frond out of his way and stepped over a huge root. “Keep up, Addison. We need to put as much distance between us and them as we can.”

  He’d just taken over, but suddenly Marley didn’t care. Her adrenaline surged as she shoved the damp palm out of her face and followed him deeper into the jungle. More gunfire echoed behind her, and she quickened her pace, working hard to keep up with Jake’s big steps. Fear rippled down her spine, cooling her skin in the humid air, but two things became bitterly clear.

  One, she wasn’t just risking her life anymore, now she was risking Jake’s. And two, there wasn’t anyone she trusted more than him.

  Jake unbuckled his pack and dropped it on the ground near some giant tree he couldn’t name with huge roots sticking out from the base five feet high and extending downward to the forest floor. “We can stop here. I haven’t heard any sign of our friends for the last hour. I think we lost them.”

  Marley stepped up next to him and gripped both shoulder straps of her pack. “We should keep going. If we keep up this pace, we could reach Bruhia in a couple of hours.”

  He glanced up at her as he knelt by his pack and flipped the top open. She looked over the jungle in the direction they’d been heading since he’d last checked his compass. She was right. If they kept going, they might reach the small town in three, four hours tops. But he didn’t want to push her too hard. She was a city girl. And more importantly, he wasn’t sure what was out there in the dark of the jungle.

  He took in the supple line of her jaw, the bead of sweat that slid down her temple. Her hair was pulled back into a messy tail. Damp blonde tendrils hung around her face and down the back of her neck. The black tank she wore stuck to her curves, leaving nothing to the imagination, and her gray cargo pants were muddy up to her calves. But she didn’t look tired or scared or overwhelmed. And she hadn’t once complained as he’d led through foliage so thick she could barely move, across creeks that had soaked her boots to the point where they probably wouldn’t dry in this climate, and up and down hills that had fatigued even his muscles. A fact that not only surprised him, it impressed the hell out of him.

  Not that he was about to tell her that. The last thing he needed was her saying, See? Told ya I could hold my own on an op.

  Frowning, he found his knife. After clipping it to his belt, he unhooked the machete he’d picked up in town before they’d left, just in case, and muttered, “Too bad this isn’t an op.”

  “What?” She turned to look down at him. “Did you say something?”

  He shoved his pack closer to the base of the tree between two wide roots. “I said we’re not going anywhere. It’ll be dark soon.”

  “I have a headlamp. Something tells me you do too in that magic pack of yours.”

  She was right. He did have one. But he wasn’t about to use it. “There are all kinds of things in the jungle you do not want to meet in the dark. Trust me.” He pushed to his feet. “Stay here while I cut some palms so we can build a roof over these roots for shelter.”

  He moved past her into the foliage. At his back, she mumbled, “I’m not an invalid, you know.”

  “Then do something productive while I’m gone.” He glanced back at her. “Like find some berries for dinner. Just watch out for poisonous dart frogs, vampire bats, and anacondas.”

  “Yeah, thanks.” She shot him a look that was cuter than it was frustrated. “I’ll do just that.”

  He chuckled as he walked off, thankful the animosity was gone from her voice. He knew she was still miffed that he’d shown up and pushed his way into this little excursion, but he wasn’t about to leave her safety in the hands of someone else. Especially not where she was headed.

  It took longer than he thought to find the right kind of palm fronds. He had to make do with a variety that fanned out from a central branch. There were gaps between the spindly fronds that might let water in if it rained in the night, so he cut extra. By the time he had enough for the shelter, he was drenched in sweat, hot and sticky, cut and bleeding from the razor-sharp fronds and prickly vines around him, and irritated because it was growing dark quicker than he’d calculated.

  He trudged his way back through the jungle. Stopped when he was sure he should have already reached their camp, then pulled out his compass and checked his coordinates.

  Damn jungle. Everything looked the same in the dwindling light. Backtracking, he made his way to the area where he’d cut the vines, checked his compass again, and headed in the other direction. Twenty minutes later, he slowed when he spotted a warm orange glow.

  His adrenaline spiked, and his heart beat hard against his ribs. He squinted to see through the trees.

  A fire. Someone had built a fire near their makeshift camp. A quick shot of fear raced through his veins. He reached for the Glock at his thigh. If those guerrillas had caught up with them . . . If they’d done something to Marley . . . A thousand scenarios raced through his mind, every one ending in something horrid.

  A figure moved in front of the fire, circled around the other side, and knelt down. A curvy figure. One with blond hair pulled back in a tail. One he recognized.

  Confused, Jake inched forward, careful not to make any sound, just in case. Ten yards away he realized Marley was the only one in the area. And
their camp now looked nothing like it had when he’d left.

  She’d laid the tarp on the ground between two giant roots. A fire sizzled ten feet away in a circle of rocks. Two Y-shaped sticks were stuck into the ground on each side of the fire, supporting another stick skewered through some kind of meat. On a piece of bark off to the right of the fire, a pile of purple berries sat untouched along with a cluster of bananas.

  Reaching around the fire, Marley gripped the ends of the roughly made rotisserie and turned the meat. She winced when the flame got too close to her fingers, pulled her hand back, and sucked on her knuckle.

  “What the heck is this?”

  She turned at the sound of his voice and looked up as he stepped through the trees. “You’re back. I was starting to wonder if I’d have to go look for you.”

  Jake dragged the fronds into camp, dropping them near the fire. “Who did all this?”

  “I did.”

  He glanced from the fire to the berries and back again. “No, seriously. Is someone else here?”

  She pushed to her feet. “No one but me.” Stepping toward the tarp she’d laid out, she said, “The iguana needs a little longer to cook. In the meantime, we can get started on the shelter. It’s getting more humid. I have a feeling rain’s going to hit tonight.”

  “Iguana.” Jake eyed the meat sizzling over the fire. “You’re trying to tell me you caught an iguana.”

  “A green iguana. Fast little bugger.” She picked up a wide-leafed frond, one that was easily three times bigger than the fronds he’d cut, with no gaps or holes. “I thought these might be good for the roof. What do you think?”

  Jake glanced down at the spindly fronds at his feet.

  “Oh,” she said, following his gaze. “Yours are nice too. If you’d rather use yours, we can.”

  He looked up at her, widening his eyes in utter disbelief. Who was this chick? All this time, MacGyver had been sitting out in the other office?

  A slow, gloating smile spread across her lips. One that warmed his belly in a way he didn’t expect. “I told you I wasn’t an invalid, Jake. My father dragged me all over the globe as a kid. I know a thing or two about survival in the wild. I also know how to take care of myself.”