“Both of you. Come, sit here in the jeep.” El Tigre’s eyes glittered. “One wrong move and she is dead, Señor. Watch.”
Cat felt the razor-edged blade sink into her flesh. Her eyes bulged and her breath lodged in her throat as she felt the trickling warmth of blood running down her neck, soaking into her shirt. She closed her eyes, fighting off sudden faintness. Slade’s savage curse startled her.
“That’s enough!”
El Tigre smiled mirthlessly, easing the pressure on the knife. “Enough for now, Señor. This blade has killed many. It doesn’t care whether it’s a man or woman. Nor do I. Now, drop your holster and pistol at your feet, then join us. And warn your men that if they try to shoot at us when we leave or try to follow, your woman will breathe her last gulp of air through her windpipe.”
Slade slowly unbuckled the holster, letting it drop around his feet. He turned toward Alvin, telling him of El Tigre’s orders. Immediately, all the guards lowered their rifles. Slade made his way to the Jeep and halted in front of it.
“Why don’t you put that blade on me instead of her?”
“I think not, Señor. No more talk! Get in!”
The moment Slade slid into the passenger seat, one of the guaqueros came forward. He immediately bound Slade’s wrists with hemp rope. Satisfied, El Tigre eased the knife from Cat’s throat.
“Drive, señorita. Turn around and take the road leading back toward Muzo.”
Cat’s mind spun with options and possibilities. She jammed the Jeep into gear and they headed out of the well-lit area, swallowed up by the shadowy jungle on both sides of the narrow, bumpy road. As soon as they were out of sight of the Verde, El Tigre relaxed, laughing.
“Aiyeee, compadres! I told you how easy it would be to capture them.”
Thomas, his second-in-command, whose weapon was trained on Slade’s back, nodded, a half smile on his mouth. The other two men cheered in unison, waving their weapons above their heads.
El Tigre rubbed Cat’s right shoulder in a provocative motion, his dirty fingers trailing down her arm to the elbow. Cat jerked her arm away.
“Leave me alone!”
“This one has claws,” the leader crowed.
Slade turned, his eyes a deadly black color, settling on the bandit. “You lay another hand on her, and you’ll answer to me.”
El Tigre smiled slowly. “You’ll talk to me anyway, Señor. You will tell us where you keep all those emeralds you’re finding. If they are in a safe, you will give me the combination.”
“Over my dead body.”
With a chuckle, El Tigre pointed to Cat. “No, Señor, over her dead body. She is how you say it, insurance? If you do not talk, she will die an inch at time.”
Cat’s skin crawled over the frigid tone in El Tigre’s voice. He meant business. The twin beams of light from the Jeep stabbed through the darkness. There was no moon as they drove on, mile after mile, the blackness embracing them until Cat thought she was back in a caved-in mine once again. They had to escape! If El Tigre got them to his camp, they were as good as dead. She didn’t dare look at Slade or the guaqueros might suspect something. Her mind raced to remember the road back to Muzo. Right now, they were climbing steadily out of the valley. Soon, they would be following the nose line of several ridges before dropping into the Gato Valley. Slade’s hands were tied in front of him. Grimly, Cat wiped the sweat stinging her eyes.
Slade braced himself as Cat pressed down the accelerator once they had bridged the hill. The road was rocky and rutted. What the hell was she doing speeding up like this at this time of night? Didn’t she know there was a series of sharp S-turns up ahead? The gravelly surface of the road would make the Jeep slide if she took them too fast. Slade glanced at Cat. Her face was grim and barely outlined by the dashboard lights. Then, realizing what she was going to do, he almost smiled. In those split seconds before they raced down on the first set of curves, Slade promised himself that if they escaped this with their lives, he’d tell Cat how much he loved her.
“Slow down!” El Tigre shrieked in her ear, pounding her right shoulder sharply with his fist.
Cat winced as his knotted fist struck her twice with hard, well-aimed blows. The lights from the vehicle outlined the first turn. She jammed her boot down on the accelerator. The Jeep lurched forward, careening toward the first curve. El Tigre cursed and was thrown backward. He fell into the two men who sat squeezed in the back, and Cat wrenched the nose of the Jeep toward the cliff. One man tumbled over the side, the gun flying out of his hand. Another fell off with a scream. For terrifying seconds, the Jeep slid sideways and then, as Cat wrenched the wheel back to the left, the heavily treaded tires screamed in protest.
“Jump, Slade!”
Everything was a blur as Slade threw himself out of the Jeep. He struck the road with his left shoulder, rolling instinctively into a ball to lessen the shocking impact. Flesh was torn from him, but he felt little pain. He heard the vehicle roar off the road, sudden silence, and then a crash as the Jeep smashed and tumbled down the steep cliff. Cat! Where was Cat?
Drunkenly, Slade got to his feet, searching the choking dust and darkness. He stumbled across unconscious guaqueros. Nearby was a rifle. He picked it up. Had everyone else gone over with the Jeep? Where was she–
“Slade!”
He jerked to the left, crouching. Cat was running toward him, her face smudged with dirt, her blouse ripped and bloodied. Both had paid dearly for landing in the gravel. Her fingers closed around his arm.
“Come on!” she gasped.
“Where are the–”
“Two went over the cliff with the Jeep,” she sobbed. “Come on, we’ve got to get away! Give me the rifle.”
There was no time to stop and untie his wrists. Slade nodded and they took off at a dead run down the road, heading back for the Verde camp they had left at least ten miles behind. Every once in a while, Cat would look back. The rifle’s safety was off and she held it close, ready to fire if necessary. After running a mile they were both gasping and gulping for air. Slade angled them off the road and into the foliage of the jungle.
“Come here,” he panted, holding out his hands toward her. “Get these ropes off me.”
Cat came and crouched at his side. She set the rifle nearby and shakily began to untie the knots. “I–I think we’re safe.”
“Don’t count on it,” Slade said grimly, sweat streaking down his dirty, bloody face. “Those bastards have nine lives.”
She grinned tightly, the adrenaline high, keeping her mind sharp as a steel trap. “So do we. There.”
Slade rubbed his raw wrists tenderly. Then he turned his attention to Cat. “How are you?”
“Cuts, bruises…nothing that won’t heal. I’m just scared spitless.”
His grin was wobbly. “Makes two of us. All right, come on. Those four guaqueros, or whoever is left, won’t let us go easily. We’ve got to make it back to camp or–”
Cat stood, nervously watching the dark road, expecting to see shadowy shapes emerge from it at any moment. “I know. Here, you take the rifle. I’m not sure I could shoot straight if I had to. My hands are shaking like leaves.”
With a nod, Slade guided her over the bank of the road. “You run in front of me. Keep your eyes peeled and ears open. If you hear anything, signal me. Don’t talk. We can’t afford to make any more noise than necessary.”
The construction boots felt like lead on Cat’s feet. She wasn’t in the world’s greatest shape, but not the worst, either. After jogging another two miles, she had to ask Slade to halt. Her throat was burning and her lungs felt ready to burst. They found sanctuary in a banana-tree grove, the huge, long fronds covering them so they couldn’t be seen from the road. Slade knelt near her, his concentration aimed behind them. Cat felt safe, falling back against the trunk of a tree, taking huge gulps of air.
“You–never told me about this, Donovan.”
Slade wiped his face, glancing over at Cat. “I told you it would be rough.
This is the Dodge City of the eighties. It’s wide open, and the only law is the gun you carry. You let it do the talking for you.”
“I’m demanding hazardous-duty pay,” she whispered, finally sitting up.
Slade reached out and gripped her hand, squeezing it gently. “If you’ve accidentally killed El Tigre, you’ve got a hundred-thousand-peso reward coming from the Muzo mine. Is that enough?”
Cat shivered, suddenly cold. The adrenaline that had given her the courage to deliberately wreck the Jeep and leap from it deserted her. Miserably, she shook her head. “I hope I didn’t kill him…”
A flat snort came from Slade. “I do. That bastard was going to kill us.”
She believed him, but it still didn’t make her feel any better that she had possibly killed one or more men. Slade got up, bringing her to her feet. Cat felt dizzy and leaned against him.
“All right?” Slade asked huskily, pressing a kiss to her dusty hair.
“Yes…I’m whipped.”
“Adrenaline letdown. We’ll jog, walk, jog. We can’t afford to dally.”
The fifteen-minute rest hadn’t been a good idea after all, Cat discovered. Every bone and socket in her body was beginning to ache in earnest. The scrapes on her arms and shoulder smarted. The boots she wore felt like twenty-pound weights on each foot. Lift them up, put them down, she instructed herself.
Five miles had fallen away under their jog-and-walk routine. Slade kept looking back, never dropping his guard. Cat kept angling toward the center of the road, where it was less rutted. He kept pulling her back, forcing her to walk on the side where it was hard to maintain a balance. If they had to dive for cover, Slade wanted to get into the jungle with one leap. He didn’t try to explain to her, realizing Cat was close to exhaustion.
The bark of a rifle silenced the jungle sounds around them. Slade cursed, throwing his full weight forward, landing on top of Cat. They hit the ground hard and he rolled them into the foliage. More bullets spit up geysers where they had stood seconds before. Slade threw Cat off him, scrambled to his knees and hid behind a trumpet tree, both hands on the rifle. There! He saw the figures of two men weaving steadily toward them.
“Son of a bitch,” he muttered. He jerked around to look at Cat. She was lying nearby, the breath knocked out of her. “Cat!” he hissed between clenched teeth. “Get up! Hurry!”
With a groan, Cat blindly scrambled to her knees and dove into the brush.
Slade aimed, drew a bead on the lead guaquero and fired twice. The second shot felled one bandit. Then, he had to duck as a spate of savage automatic-rifle fire spewed into his position. Bark exploded and splintered in all directions. Slade lunged for the earth, crawling away from the tree. He got to his knees, scuttling forward in the same direction Cat had gone.
The damp humid jungle floor smelled like so much rotted flesh to Cat. She fell and tripped numerous times over unseen tree roots or vines that snaked across her path. She had heard the gunfire, and adrenaline shot through her, giving her the second wind she needed to escape. Slade! Where was Slade? Had he been wounded? Cat turned, almost running into him. Slade gripped her tightly, his breath hot against her face.
“I got one of them. The other will trail us.”
With a groan, Cat clung momentarily to him. “W-what can we do?”
He gripped Cat’s shoulder firmly. “Listen to me, Cat. Aim yourself east, toward the camp.”
She looked up at him, her face blank. “What about you?”
“I’m going to lie here in wait for him. That’s the only way we’re going to get out of this alive.”
“But–”
“Go on and don’t argue.”
“No, damn it! I’m staying. I can’t go into the jungle at night, Slade. I’ll get lost!”
His face was glistening with sweat, eyes narrowed dangerously in the direction from which the guaquero would be sure to come. “At least you’ll be alive in case that bastard gets me first. Now, go on. And stop arguing with me.”
Cat stood her ground, her jaw set. “I’m staying, Slade.”
With a curse, he jerked her to a trumpet tree, forcing her to sit down behind it. “You stay here and don’t breathe. You understand me?”
She nodded, her eyes growing large. He started to turn away and she gripped his hand. “Slade?”
Impatiently, he twisted his head in her direction. “What?”
“I love you–”
The harshness on his face melted for a split second. “I know you do. Now just lie low and stay still.”
Cat nodded and scrunched herself behind the girth of the tree. How long she sat there, frozen like a fawn while a predator stalked nearby, Cat did not know. She muffled her breathing, hand over her mouth, eyes and ears focused on the path they had made coming into the jungle. Cat quickly lost sight of Slade, who had moved out into the darkness. Time drew to an excruciating halt as the noises of insects covered all other sounds. Who was left? El Tigre? Thomas? Cat shivered. The guaqueros would be excellent trackers and hunters, having been raised in these jungles.
And then Cat’s hunting instincts came back to her. She remembered her father teaching her and Rafe how to hunt and stalk food. Cat grew very still, breathed shallowly and listened carefully. There! She detected a faint, perceptible change in the number of insects singing. Cat gripped the tree trunk. Was it because Slade was still moving around, or was it a guaquero? In the minutes that followed, Cat had no doubt someone was coming in her direction.
Her heart beginning to pound in dread, Cat pressed one hand against her breast, wondering if everyone else could hear it pumping as loudly as she could. Could a heartbeat give her away? A soft crunching sound to her right made her jump. She froze, her nostrils flaring. A sour smell reached her. El Tigre! She’d recognize the odor anywhere. Oh, no! His shape melted out of the surrounding foliage, no more than ten feet from where she crouched. Where was Slade? Was he even aware of El Tigre’s presence? The guaquero turned, the automatic weapon ready to fire in his hands, walking toward Cat.
A scream welled up from deep within her. Cat felt a trickle of sweat run down her temples. Her fingers dug convulsively into the tree trunk and she leaned down, face and body pressed against the rough bark, willing herself to become part of the tree. He was only five feet away. Did he see her? If he caught her, he would show no mercy. Cat’s eyes grew huge as he took another careful step in her direction, the ugly muzzle of his military weapon pointed right at her.
Suddenly, the night exploded around her as Slade’s dark shape lunged from the left. Both men fell heavily, grunting and groaning. Cat leaped to her feet the instant El Tigre’s weapon flew out of his hands, and she scrambled for the weapon as the men wrestled on the jungle floor. The sickening sound of bone breaking beneath the power of a fist tore into her shock. Cat lurched to her feet, screaming at them. She shoved the muzzle of the gun down into El Tigre’s heaving chest and Slade got off him.
“Don’t move,” she warned the guaquero harshly. “Slade?”
“I’m all right,” he rasped, coming to her side. “Get up!” he ordered El Tigre.
The man glared at Cat, his eyes feral with hatred as he held his injured jaw. Cat slowly removed the muzzle from his chest and handed the gun to Slade. The roar of vehicles shattered the jungle. Cat looked toward the road.
“Alvin?” she asked.
“Yeah. Get up there and flag them down. I’ll bring our friend here in tow.”
Cat crashed through the thick barrier of leaves, vines and roots. She finally made it to the road as the first Jeep passed by her. Waving her arms, she managed to flag down the second one. It was loaded with armed guards from the Verde mine. Tony Alvarez was driving.
“Man, you’re a sight for sore eyes!” he said, getting out. “Where’s Slade?”
Cat gave him a weary smile. “Coming with El Tigre.”
“You two gave that snake a run for his money, eh?”
“I guess we did. There’s Slade.”
T
he next hour became a blur for Cat. The guards were enthusiastic that El Tigre had been captured alive. Slade sat behind her on the way back to their camp, his hand resting protectively on her shoulder. Alvin was like a mother hen, insisting on scrubbing their cuts and bruises with soap and water plus a healthy dose of iodine. Tears had watered in Cat’s eyes when he had plastered her injuries with the yellow tincture, and she wasn’t sure if the tears came because of the pain or the fear of what might have happened if El Tigre had made good his escape with them.
*
Slade watched Cat out of the corner of his eye as she slowly began to undress in their tent. She sat wearily on her cot, her fingers trembling as she tried to unlace her boots.
“Here,” he said, crouching down in front of her and removing her hands, “let me do that.”
Cat straightened up. Her shirt was unbuttoned, revealing the lace and silk of her lingerie. “Thanks. I think I’m falling apart now that it’s over.”
“I know you are. Just sit and relax, the worst is over.”
“Why aren’t your hands shaking? Aren’t you feeling torn up inside?”
Slade grimaced, gently removing the first boot and tackling the second. “This isn’t the first time something like this has happened to me, Cat. Maybe I’m more used to violence than you are. It comes with the territory when you get into gem mining.”
“I’ve never seen it this bad, Slade.” Cat swallowed a lump in her throat. “You can taste the violence in the air.” She shivered as he pulled the second boot off.
Slade slid his hands up her curved thighs and looked at her in the flickering light shed by the lantern. Her left cheek had a cut on it and was slightly puffy. He knew she had landed on her left side, and luckily her shoulder, upper arm and elbow had received the brunt of the punishment.
He tenderly framed her face and said, “The next few days are going to be hectic. I’m going to take El Tigre over to Muzo. From there, I’m sure the Colombian police will be more than happy to take him into custody.”
A tremulous sigh broke from her lips. “But that doesn’t promise an end to the violence, does it?”
Slade sadly shook his head. “No. As long as there’s green fire, you’ve got men who will do anything to get it, legally or otherwise.” He brushed away the first tear that rolled down her cheek. Cat was having a natural letdown after their narrow escape, and he leaned forward, molding his mouth lightly against her lips. He felt her tremble, her arms moving around his shoulders to draw him nearer.
Solitaire Page 21