by Susan Stoker
“I don’t have any extra buttons, but I can sew that closed for you.”
Casey stared up at him in disbelief. “You carry a needle and thread with you?”
Beatle smiled for the first time since he’d been aware of the other men. “It’s not for doing needlepoint projects in the jungle, sweetheart. Sometimes we have to sew each other up after a firefight. We all carry a set.”
“Ah.” Understanding lit her eyes.
“Hold still,” Beatle told her, then leaned down and got to work with a quick and dirty repair of her shirt. Several minutes later, he stood. “There. It won’t win any awards, but it’ll keep the mosquitos off your beautiful skin.”
Casey ran a hand down the middle of her shirt and stared up at Beatle. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I would’ve let you wear one of mine, but you’d be swimming in it. Come on, my four minutes was over three minutes ago. Truck’ll be chomping at the bit to get a move on.”
He stopped in his tracks when he felt Casey’s hand on his arm. “I’m not sure that man’ll die from those ant bites. He might wish he was dead, but unless he’s highly allergic, he probably won’t. A lot of natives go through a ceremony where they’re bitten by bullet ants over and over to prove they’re a man. I don’t think he’s from one of those tribes, but I don’t know for sure.”
“He’s in no condition to do us any harm at the moment. My immediate concern is getting out of here. We’ll deal with him later if we have to.”
Casey nodded, then asked softly, “How’d they find us?”
“I have no idea,” Beatle said. “But it doesn’t matter. We’re going to get to Guacalito and home, no matter what. With the three of us working together, we can do anything, right?”
She smiled then. A tentative movement of her lips, but Beatle would take it. Yes, he’d underestimated his woman, and he wouldn’t do it again. She was nobody’s damsel in distress. Dr. Shea was smart, beautiful, stubborn, and strong. He’d done her a disservice treating her any other way.
He’d wanted to carry her, but she refused. It bothered Beatle that she was obviously hurting yet still turned down his help. But he understood, especially after the attack. She wanted to take back some the helplessness she’d experienced over the last weeks. Wanted to show the world that she was strong and capable. But what she didn’t believe was that he already thought that about her. She didn’t need to prove herself to him.
Chapter Eleven
That night, as they made camp, Casey sat on the little stool Beatle had unearthed from his pack and tried not to think about how miserable she felt. They’d walked all day, trying to put as much distance from where they’d been attacked and where they’d spend the night.
She’d insisted on walking the rest of the day, forcing herself to ignore her aches and pains. And she had them. She’d never been as sore as she was right now.
Beatle had made sure she ate several protein bars over the course of the day and had been pressuring her to drink as much water as she could. But her stomach was finally rebelling. Just thinking about eating made her want to throw up.
She’d approved the area where they wanted to set up camp, there weren’t any nests or mounds that she could see, and Beatle and Truck silently began to do their thing. They worked in tandem without talking. Each in charge of a different part of camp. Beatle set up the hammocks and began to get a meal put together. Truck headed for the stream they’d passed not long before to replenish their water and gather wood for a small fire.
She’d asked if she could help, but both men had shaken their heads and told her to relax on her stool. She was relieved, but irritated at the same time. Beatle had told her earlier that he didn’t see her as a damsel in distress anymore, but she was feeling that way at the moment all the same.
Both Truck and Beatle kept shooting worried glances her way. Casey was trying to ignore them, but every time they looked at her, then at each other and communicated using their weird hand signals, it made her more and more frustrated.
Casey wanted to be home. Back in her own bed, safe in her apartment, not worrying about stepping on some sort of creature that would make her misery even worse. If she was going to barf, she wanted to do it in the privacy of her own bathroom and not in front of the man she had begun to have deep feelings for.
It was unfortunate that, in the midst of her own private pity party, Beatle wandered over and held out a plastic packet of food he’d heated, one of the MREs from his pack.
“Fettuccine with spinach and mushrooms,” he told her with a smile. “Gourmet in the middle of the jungle, just for you.”
“I’m not hungry,” Casey told him quietly, wishing he’d just leave her alone.
But he didn’t. Instead, he crouched down and balanced on the balls of his feet in front of her, still holding the damn food out. The smell of the pasta made her want to hurl.
“Case, you need to eat. You need the calories.”
“I don’t like mushrooms or spinach,” she said softly. It wasn’t a lie. She knew she couldn’t afford to be picky when they were in the middle of the jungle and on the run from some mysterious enemy who wanted her dead, but she was grumpy and didn’t feel like choking down the meal right then.
“What’s wrong?”
Casey wanted to burst out laughing at his question. Was he serious?
She glanced up at him and saw the concern clear on his face. He was looking at her as if he really cared, and he was definitely serious.
“Nothing,” she told him and looked down at her hands in her lap.
“This isn’t a situation where you can keep anything from me,” Beatle said quietly. “If you’re hurting, I need to know so I can do something about it. We still have a ways to go, and if you don’t tell me what’s wrong, it could affect me and Truck down the line.”
Casey stared at her fingers. There was dirt under all ten of her fingernails. She figured it would be weeks before she was able to get it all out. Her nails were chipped and broken, and she had a feeling two would come all the way off eventually. She’d bent those nails all the way back the first time she’d tried to climb out of the hole she’d been in.
The unfairness of her situation hit her all at once.
Why? Why had this happened to her? She wasn’t anyone special. She wasn’t beautiful, hell, she wasn’t even all that pretty. Back in Florida, she kept to herself. She didn’t party every night. When she went out, she usually had a glass of wine or two, tops. She didn’t have a lot of friends, mainly hung out with other teachers from the university. Why she’d been targeted was a mystery. Was it simply because she was American? Casey had no idea.
She’d come to Costa Rica to study ants, for God’s sake! How had she ended up being kidnapped and running for her life through the jungle? It wasn’t fair and it didn’t make any sense.
“Casey?” Beatle asked gently.
Suddenly, everything was just too much. She was tired of all of it. She’d reached her breaking point, and unfortunately, Beatle was in her crosshairs.
“You want to know what’s wrong?” she asked bitchily. “Where should I start? How about the fact that I was kidnapped? Then, not only was I kidnapped, I was singled out for some reason for special treatment and buried alive. But you got me out. Yay. Thanks. But now we’re on the run from an unknown enemy and I’m scared to death they’re going to get their hands on me again and do something worse than simply throw me into a hole.”
Beatle didn’t react other than to look back at Truck, who she hadn’t heard approach. His look must’ve communicated something, because the other man came forward and took the MRE Beatle had been holding. He took a step away, but didn’t go far.
Turning back to her, Beatle put his hands on Casey’s knees and asked, “What else?”
Casey ground her teeth together so hard, they hurt. But she barely noticed the small pain over all the others. She let him have it.
“What else? How about everything? My feet hurt. At least I can feel them, but I
’m not sure that’s a good thing right about now. Every fucking muscle in my body hurts. Did you know your fingers had muscles? Well, they do, and mine hurt. Squatting to pee is like the most painful thing ever. Oh, and speaking of which, I don’t have anything to wipe with after I go, and that makes me feel dirty, which is stupid because it’s been so long since I’ve had a shower or bath, I shouldn’t be able to feel dirtier than I actually am. I’m so disgusting right now I can barely stand myself. My shirt is covered in dirt and sweat, and now blood, which is just peachy, because I got gauged by that asshole back there, I had to show you my boobs, which in any other situation I would be glad to do, but not because you feel sorry for me, and to top it off, I’ll probably end up with some sort of weird jungle disease as a result of him scratching me!”
She paused to take a breath then kept going. Now that she’d started, she couldn’t seem to stop. “My head is pounding and I feel nauseous. I’ve been trying to eat and drink like you want me to, but I know if I put anything else in my mouth right now, I’m going to puke it all up. My teeth feel as if they’re covered in fuzz because I haven’t brushed them in who knows how long. I’m hurt that my students were picked up by those other soldiers and I was left behind. I’m scared of the dark now, I have a million mosquito bites that itch like crazy, and I just want to go h-home!”
Her voice cracked on the last word, and Casey was more than aware of how badly she was whining, but couldn’t help it. Her eyes filled with tears and she squeezed them closed, willing them back. She bit her cracked bottom lip to try to regain her composure. She thought she’d done it, until she felt Beatle’s hand brush over her hair in a tender caress.
That was the last straw. A sob escaped and the tears escaped her closed eyes and fell down her cheeks.
She felt Beatle moving in front of her and held on tightly as he picked her up. His arm under her knees hurt, but she barely felt it amidst all her other complaints.
She sobbed as if her world was ending.
And it pretty much felt like it was.
Casey felt Beatle sit on something, then he was lying back, clutching her to him. She didn’t tense up, didn’t open her eyes to see what was happening. She was over it all. Done.
She felt the familiar feel of the hammock close around her and Beatle, but she still didn’t open her eyes. Beatle shifted under her, getting comfortable, making sure she was comfy too.
He didn’t tell her to shush. Didn’t tell her everything would be okay. He simply rubbed her back and stroked her hair.
How long she cried in his arms, Casey had no idea, but eventually her tears tapered off and then stopped.
“Feel better?” he asked quietly.
Without picking it up from his shoulder, Casey shook her head.
“Feel worse?” he asked, and she could hear the humor loud and clear in his tone.
She shook her head again. “I’m not sure it’s possible to feel worse than I do right now.”
“Mmmm,” Beatle said, still caressing her back.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly.
“For what?”
“For turning into a raging bitch. You didn’t deserve that.”
“Was everything you said the truth?”
“Yeah.”
“Then you have no need to apologize.”
Casey sighed and lifted her head enough so she could see his eyes. “But you didn’t deserve to be dumped on like that.”
“Case, you’ve had a rough couple of weeks. You’ve held up extremely well. You don’t have anything to apologize for.”
“Aspen always said I was too whiny when we were growing up,” she informed him.
“Yeah, well, I think any big brother would say that about their little sister. Cut yourself some slack, sweetheart.”
They were quiet for a long while and Casey felt absolutely no need to move. In fact, she’d be happy if they never moved.
“I’m worried about you,” Beatle said after a minute or two. “While you’ve done really well, I know your feet need more care than me and Truck can give them. I don’t like that you’re not hungry or thirsty. You should be both after how long you went without anything to eat and as little to drink as you had. I’m not surprised your muscles hurt, especially after being cooped up in that hole for as long as you were. I don’t like that we don’t know who is after you or why, either, but we don’t have time to stop and try to figure it out right now. I’d do everything in my power to give you a hot bath with lots of soap, but that’ll have to wait until we’re back in civilization, I’m afraid.”
“I’d kill someone for a bath,” Casey mumbled.
Beatle squeezed her in reply.
“I’ll try not to bring the bitch out again,” she told him.
“Don’t.”
“What?” she asked, confused.
“If that was you being a bitch, I can handle it. Casey, I’ve already told you this, but you’ve held up so much better than I thought you would. Hell, you’ve held up so well, I’d forgotten exactly how much you’ve been through. I’m sorry for not recognizing you were nearing your breaking point. You were so brave and strong when we rescued you, I didn’t pay close enough attention to see that you were experiencing delayed shock. You can’t be expected to tromp through this jungle for days on end without a break. Especially not after what you’ve been through. I’m the one who’s sorry for not looking past your strength and recognizing when you couldn’t take any more. I know better.”
“We know better,” Truck added.
Casey startled so badly, if Beatle hadn’t been holding her close, she would’ve fallen out of the hammock. She craned her head around and saw Truck sitting on the stool she’d been on earlier.
Truck shared a look with Beatle before saying, “Change of plans. Tomorrow, we’re heading due west, straight for Guacalito. It’s more important to get you to civilization and a doctor than it is to try to play hide-and-go-seek in the jungle.”
“But, I can make it,” Casey protested, even as part of her said there was no way in hell she could make one more day on the run.
“I’m sure if push came to shove, you could,” Beatle soothed. “But you don’t have to. Truck and I can take care of anyone else we might run into. It was second nature for us to automatically head farther away from our target in order to shake whoever was following us.”
“But if we go back now, won’t we run into more bad guys?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. But I’m going to radio the others in a second and they’ll be on the lookout for them. They’ll clear the area before we get there. Look at me,” Beatle ordered.
Casey looked up at him.
“It’s not good that you’re nauseous, and not hungry or thirsty. It’s not good that your feet hurt. I want to get those scratches deep-cleaned, and I just plain want to do everything in my power to make you feel safe again.” He paused, then said, “Oh, and one more thing. There was no way I was going to leave this jungle without you. I would’ve done whatever I had to in order to find you and bring you home. I’ve done the former; it’s time I get on with the latter.”
Casey relaxed and put her head on Beatle’s shoulder. “I’ll eat the pasta. Just give me a bit, okay?”
“No rush, sweetheart,” was his rumbled response.
They stayed in the hammock for a long time. Casey was aware of Truck moving around them, but not what he was doing. She didn’t care. After a while, Beatle got out of the hammock. He took off her shoes and socks and doctored her feet as best he could. He strung up the mosquito netting so she didn’t get any more bites.
Truck approached with a handful of pills. She didn’t even ask what they were for. Merely took them without a word and choked them down. The water did threaten to come back up, but she managed to keep it down. She didn’t miss the worried look on Truck’s face though.
She just hoped whatever he’d given her would help with the pain throughout her body.
Casey got restless when the sun sank below the hori
zon, not liking the darkness that descended on their little corner of the world. The small fire didn’t light up the area enough. Just when she thought she was going to scream, Beatle came over and climbed into the hammock with her.
“I can’t do much about the night,” he apologized.
“It’s better when you’re here,” she told him honestly. “It’s just when I’m alone that I start remembering the hole and imagining that I’m back there.”
“Good. I also can’t do anything about how I smell either,” he joked. “I forgot to bring my Brut cologne.”
Casey chuckled. “I can’t tell the difference between your rankness and mine. It’s fine,” she said. After several minutes, she asked softly, “Are we really going straight to Guacalito?”
“Yeah.”
“And it’s okay?”
Knowing what she meant, Beatle replied, “It’s okay. I can’t say there aren’t things we’ll have to keep our eye on, but we need to get you out of here. Now is not the time to wander the jungle trying to ferret out the bad guys.”
“Is that what we were doing?”
“Not us, but the others, yeah. We were just getting out of their way so they could hunt.”
“Won’t your boss, or commander, or whatever he’s called, be mad that you didn’t try to catch the bad guys?”
“Absolutely not. You held up so well and were so amazing as we set out that we all quickly forgot you’d been through something horrific. The mission isn’t to figure out who and why right now. It’s to get you out of here and home safely. Case. You’re my mission.”
She couldn’t help but be hurt by his words. She didn’t want to be a mission for him.
She’d told herself when she’d first been rescued not to fall for Beatle. That he’d rescued hundreds of people and what she was feeling was simply a result of being grateful he’d found her. “Okay,” she whispered.
Obviously, some of her hurt came through with that one word, because Beatle said, “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”
“I know,” she said woodenly, not believing her own words.