“Driving in the jungle during the day is difficult,” Xavier explained. “At night, it is much too dangerous, even with a jeep.”
She knew it wasn’t wise. Even a wasteland like the desert held its dangers. But the thought of losing time, when she was so close to Samantha, made her anxious. “If we went to the starting point, we could start first thing in the morning. Maybe even hike in a kilometer or two,” Bethany argued. That initial headway was easier to take than the thought of sleeping at the edge of the jungle, waiting.
“Bad idea,” Xavier countered. “Night is when the predators come out, and I do not want to hit one. As far as hiking?” He let the thought drag out.
“There aren’t just the larger animals, like panthers, jaguars, to worry about. There are smaller ones. Bugs that can make you sick if you touch them. Even kill you. One wrong hand placement and this rescue expedition would end.”
“Look,” Tomas revealed, rolling up his sleeve to his elbow.
Bethany leaned in to get a better look in the moonlight. A thick scar, the size of a silver dollar marred his forearm. “What happened?”
“I leaned against a tree.”
“A tree did that?” Bethany stared in horrid fascination.
“No, an insect on the tree did that,” Tomas described, unrolling his sleeve and buttoning it around his wrist. “It laid eggs in my flesh, and I had to cut them out before they hatched.”
Bethany swallowed so the bile in her stomach would stay there. She’d seen some dangerous animals while working in southern Utah. Scorpions. Rattlers. Rabid coyotes. But nothing that creepy.
As much as she wanted to prove her skills to Xavier, part of being a good tracker was listening to people who knew more. And these men knew more, no argument there. “Okay, we leave at sunrise.”
Eyes open, Bethany gave up trying to stay asleep. Instead, she stared in the dark that would soon disappear. She shared a tent with Xavier; Tomas and Sebastian slept in a tent adjacent to theirs. Xavier lay inches away from her, his breathing even in sleep.
Soon, it would be time to get up and begin their trek. She’d been so eager to get moving, but now that she was lying in the dark, stuck in her head, trepidation set in.
She’d told Xavier she knew where Samantha was located, and said it with confidence that eluded her now. What if one of the ex-hostages remembered wrong? What if she miscalculated the timing of moving between camps? What if Cesar wasn’t as predictable as she thought?
She rested her head on her forearm, her hand touching the backpack that Sebastian had prepared for her. She’d glanced in it before they’d turned in. It held the traditional items. Flares. Bug spray. Water bottle.
It also held nontraditional items. Ammunition. Climbing harness. An earpiece. And camouflage paint.
Somehow, the unfamiliar items seemed to solidify her mission. Made it more real. And that raised the doubts that plagued her now. Made her question her information. After all, one wrong move and she wouldn’t find Samantha. And might harm Eva’s chance at freedom.
She turned over again, not bothering to cover her sigh. She prayed it would be light soon. Under most circumstances, she liked the night. She enjoyed spending time in her head, exploring her thoughts and motivations.
This was not one of those times. There was too much she wanted, needed, to ignore. In the tent next to theirs, one of the other men started to snore, drowning out the jungle sounds.
“Worried?” Xavier whispered.
Bethany stiffened. She’d thought he was asleep. “A little,” she admitted. “I’ve never been in the jungle.”
“Ask when you are unsure. You are a desert person. There will be dangers here that you don’t know.”
Calming her racing heart, she faced him in the dark. “I know. Panthers and bugs.”
“And FARC,” he added.
“As if I could forget,” she said. “As if either of us could.”
The rustle of cloth told her that he was turning over. “You know nature. You don’t know men. Not like this,” he stressed, his voice came at her. “It is not too late to change your mind.”
Her smiled faded. “Why do you keep pressing the issue?” she protested. “You know what I’ll say. Why bother?”
For a long beat, there was nothing but silence. Was he worried she’d be hurt? Or that she’d screw up? Where was his concern, for her or for the hostages?
“There are many reasons,” he replied, offering nothing in the way of satisfaction. “But I keep hoping you will come to your senses before it is too late.”
Bethany bit her lip. Though it was foolish, a little part of her had hoped for a more intimate answer.
She felt like a fool. A pathetic, needy fool.
She could take the guilt and the lies but she drew the line at weak. “No one ever said I was sensible,” she said. “That’s Samantha.”
“Ah, she is the smart one, and you are the one with the with pelotas grandes.”
Bethany shifted again and realized Xavier was no longer a shadow in a shadow. Daylight had arrived. Finally. “What does that really mean?” she asked.
“What does what mean?” he asked. “Smart? If you have to ask, then you are not.”
He teased. It was a nice and needed change from the thoughts that plagued her, refusing her even a good night’s sleep. She smacked him on the shoulder. “Pelotas. What does it mean?”
“It means, uh.” He flipped open his sleeping bag, cupped his hand and held it level with his crotch. “Pelotas. You know.”
“Balls?” she asked. “You’re saying I have big balls.”
His eyes widened, as if realizing what he’d just said. He bolted upright and then ducked his head, but not before she saw the red tint to his face. “We should break camp and go.”
Bethany stared at his back as he fumbled to get up and away from her. Who would have guessed that saying a word like “balls” would embarrass Xavier Monero?
“Xavier? What’s wrong?” she joked, tapping him on the shoulder to try and make him face her. She knew it was mean and childish, but the urge was impossible to resist.
“Be quick,” he muttered as he unzipped the tent and stepped outside.
Bethany thumped the sleeping bag with her heels. “I win,” she stated, grinning.
Chapter 4
“Careful,” Xavier warned as he grabbed Bethany’s wrist when she reached out to push a broad, deep-green leaf out of her way. Her eyes followed a path from where he gripped her to the leaf.
It seemed safe enough, until a spot of pale green and lavender moved. She squinted and a tree frog came into view. Half the length of her pinky, its tiny suctioned feet gripped the leaf, keeping it fixed in place.
“Cute,” she remarked. “And can kill me with a single touch?”
“Yes,” Xavier answered.
“Thanks,” she added, shaking Xavier’s grip and giving the leaf a wide berth.
“You have to be more careful,” Xavier urged, following her with Sebastian and then Tomas trailing. “One wrong move and you won’t be hurt, you’ll be dead.”
She waved off the warning with a glibness she didn’t feel.
She’d rotated into the point position earlier, eager to cover ground and confident in her abilities, her strength, and that while desert knowledge wasn’t applicable in the Colombian jungle, basic survival principles remained the same.
But that was two hours ago and between the ache in her biceps and shoulder that came from swinging the machete and now what she’d forever call “the tiny frog incident,” her confidence was waning.
She hacked at a thick vine and the machete stuck halfway. Her shoulders slumped, and it took all her strength to not drop to her knees in defeat.
Her words from yesterday echoed in her head. You can set me in the middle of nowhere—jungle or desert—with nothing but a knife and the clothes on my back, I’ll walk out of there alive.
Well, she’d live as long as she avoided frogs. That much was true.
&nbs
p; But she hated the jungle more and more with each step. “Stupid vines,” she muttered, working to free the blade.
The desert was just as tough and demanding, but she knew the desert. The heat of the sun on her shoulders. The wind over her ears. The sense that one could walk forever and see nothing but pale sand and red rock.
The jungle was the opposite. Leaves pressed in, making her claustrophobic. Water dripped, leaving nothing untouched. And the noise never ended. Grunts. Squeals. Screeches. She missed the silence.
Plus, there were bugs here. She thought they wouldn’t be a big deal, but they were everywhere. They ate the leaves, scurried across the ground and flew through the air. A millipede caught her attention as it dashed up a tree trunk. Bethany shuddered. Damn, she hated bugs.
At least the heat was familiar. She stumbled as the blade came free, caught herself and took a deep breath to regain her composure. It wouldn’t do to have the men think her weak or whiny. “Onward,” she said, pointing forward with the tip of the machete’s blade.
“In a minute,” Xavier declared. “It’s time to switch off.”
Oh, thank God. Despite her relief, she forced herself to smile and give the illusion that she was as tough as she claimed. “I can keep going. I don’t mind,” she fibbed.
Xavier held out his hand. She gave him the machete, took a step back and surveyed him. His clothes were just as damp and she knew he was tired, but he looked at home in the jungle. As if he was in his natural element.
Bethany wiped her forehead with the hem of her shirt and wished she found beauty in the green. Maybe one day. But until Samantha was free, it was hard to see the jungle as anything other than her sister’s prison.
“Tomas.” Xavier held up the blade. The shorter man pushed forward from the back of the small group, took the machete and began cutting a swatch through the vines and leaves with an ease that Bethany envied.
Bethany let Sebastian move past her, took a spot in the middle and forced herself to keep the pace Tomas set.
“You are doing much better than I expected,” Xavier remarked, from behind her.
“Thanks,” she replied, surprised by the compliment. If he gave an inch, so could she. “It’s harder than I expected.”
“We will take a break soon,” Xavier indicated.
“Don’t take one on account of me,” she said, then realized how defensive she sounded, but she couldn’t take it back, either.
He chuckled.
Her cheeks burned.
“It’s almost noon,” Xavier continued. “We break for lunch and everyone needs to change their socks.”
“Change socks?” Bethany asked.
“Yes,” Xavier confirmed. “Boots and damp socks are a bad combination. We might be here for a few days, but in the jungle, it only takes a few hours for the skin to become saturated with water. Once that happens, any wound can become infected and from there, gangrene.”
“Ew.”
“That is my point. We dry our feet, put on fresh socks and then continue.”
She wiggled her toes inside her shoes. The thought of mold growing on her feet made her want to stop now. A rustle behind them caught her attention. She glanced over her shoulder, her senses pricked by the unexpected sound. “Xavier?”
“I heard it, too,” he disclosed, his brows pressed together.
There was another rustle—closer now—then the distinct sound of leaves being trod. Shivers raced up Bethany’s arms.
Xavier’s eyes narrowed. “Tell the others to keep walking. Act normal.” He dropped back then off the trail.
Act normal? When they were being stalked? Bethany hurried forward as fast as she dared without attracting attention. “Sebastian, we’re being followed,” she informed him. “Xavier is checking it out. Keep moving.”
Sebastian unclipped the strap over his gun and they moved onward with Tomas keeping point.
Bethany lagged a few steps, straining to listen. Was it FARC? She couldn’t imagine they’d trailed the group. They’d either shoot them or in a more probable scenario, take them all hostage.
So their shadow wasn’t human. But whatever followed them was large. A monkey perhaps? Jaguar?
The thought of a big cat tracking them made her shudder but better a big cat than FARC. The cat was more forgiving. She looked up and realized that Sebastian and Tomas were almost out of sight. Not that disappearing in the jungle was difficult. All it took was a few seconds of inattention.
She increased her pace and the leaves next to her moved. Bethany slowed. “Xavier?” she whispered. There was no answer. Her mouth went dry.
“Here, kitty, kitty, kitty,” she croaked, half teasing and hoping like hell she was wrong.
A low growl replied.
The hairs on the back of Bethany’s neck rose in response. “Oh, crap.” She swallowed the sudden panic and forced her feet to move faster and close the space between her and the men.
“Sebastian?” She tried to call his name but her voice came out a whisper.
The growl was ahead of her now, just off to the right and between her and the rest of the team. She stopped. Her breath came in staccato gasps. Why was a jaguar hunting during the day? They were nocturnal creatures. The only explanation was that this cat was either sick or hurt, which also meant reckless, out of its head and twice as dangerous.
Still rooted to the spot, she looked over her shoulder. “Xavier?” she whispered again. He didn’t answer.
Was he lost? He was in his element but even professionals got lost. She’d seen guides get disoriented in the desert even when the sky was visible for navigation.
The jungle, with its canopy and mass of green, had to be worse. The thought of Xavier wandering the jungle was almost as stressful as the thought of fending off a cat that weighed as much as her. “Xavier?” Still no answer.
Her mouth went dry. It was up to her to escape the situation. She put one foot in front of the other. Just a few steps, she told herself. A few steps and she’d be past the cat. And once she caught up to the others, she’d be safe with the group.
One. She forced her right foot forward.
Two. Left foot.
Three. Right. She was even with the big cat now, but she kept her focus on her feet, afraid that if she made eye contact with the creature, she’d either break into a run or wet herself.
Neither seemed like a good idea. The scent of the beast wafted over her, thick and with a putrid overlay. It was wounded. Cats never smelled. Not like that.
Four. Left foot. She passed the cat and still, it remained in the bushes.
Five. Bethany laid a hand on her chest in relief. She wasn’t safe, but if it hadn’t attacked now, she might, just might, get away with her skin intact.
The rustling next to her grew louder and the shadow paralleled her movements. The cat was tracking her again.
Then it moved forward, ahead of her.
Not tracking, she realized.
Keeping her separated.
Xavier crouched low and peered through the leaves. The bone thin jaguar he’d been trailing crouched three feet from Bethany. An open wound on its side oozed blood and pus.
He looked past her. Tomas and Sebastian were out of sight, lost among the leaves. Once Bethany was safe, he’d have their heads for this carelessness. He’d also have a word with Bethany for allowing herself to become separated.
But right now, there were bigger issues.
Like keeping the pretty desert guide alive.
A flicker of movement caught his attention. Bethany took a step back. The cat took a step forward.
She shifted her left foot, as if ready to sprint into motion away from the beast. His breath caught. It would have her in its claws before she got three feet away.
Don’t run, Bethany. Don’t even breathe.
Bethany froze.
Good. He took a breath. The skill she placed so much importance in seemed to kick in, overriding the flight mode. Her eyes locked on the big cat, she slid her hand down and un
snapped the leather strap to the gun on her right hip.
He’d considered the idea himself, but one shot and everyone within a ten-mile radius would know they were here.
That scenario would be less than useful considering this was a secret mission. And despite her bravado and bragging, he’d never seen her fire a weapon. If she missed, she’d make the cat angry, and angry cats were unpredictable and more dangerous.
The mere thought of her being mauled made every muscle in his body tense with unwelcome anticipation.
Mine. The primal part of his brain screamed possession. She was his to care for. His to help.
And he protected what was his.
Xavier moved through the jungle, as silent as the cat he’d shadowed, then stepped onto the trail next to Bethany.
She jumped but held ground.
Ahead of them, the jaguar hissed, raised a foot and batted the air. It didn’t run. Damn. He’d hoped that sufficient opposition would persuade it to go after easier game.
“I leave you for two minutes and you get into trouble,” Xavier said, pulling his weapon while keeping his attention on the cat.
“You call this trouble?” Bethany slid her hand into his. “I’m not the one who got lost.”
“You were worried? Nice to know you care.” He squeezed her fingers. He knew it might be South American machismo but now that he stood next to her, he knew everything would be okay. He could protect her. Keep her safe.
“You wish,” she corrected, keeping her voice low, and nodding toward the big cat. “I’ve always told my clients to make themselves look bigger. Make noise. Want to test that theory?”
He didn’t want to kill the jaguar. Not unless there was no choice. “One. Two.”
On three, they raised their arms over their heads. Shouting, they stamped their feet and ran two steps toward the cat.
Its slitted eyes narrowed, the jaguar snarled at the pair, and for a blip in time, Xavier wasn’t sure what it would do.
Xavier lunged forward another half step. The cat hissed then ran into the jungle, its spotted coat blending with the foliage.
That was close. Too close. Still holding Bethany’s hand, he lowered their arms. Sliding his weapon back into its holster, Xavier pulled her to his chest, relief flooding him.
Mercenary’s Promise Page 5