Mercenary’s Promise

by Sharron McClellan

  Xavier’s gut tightened.

  “I was FARC long before you walked through that door.” Eva looked at him, sympathy in her dark brown eyes. “The kidnapping? The message for the money? The threats against my life?” She left the questions open, hanging and waiting for Xavier to piece it all together.

  “Your idea,” he whispered as grief overwhelmed him. It was like losing Miguel all over again and for a moment, he forgot to breathe.

  “Yes,” she said. “But I did it to save you, too, you moron. You are still my family. Still my brother. They were going to kill you. I lost Miguel. I didn’t want to lose you, as well.”

  His little sister was a terrorist. Xavier paced to the other side of the hut. “I don’t believe it.”

  “You should,” Eva persisted, her voice strong. Sure.

  It was almost impossible to understand, to comprehend. He couldn’t deny that Bethany had hurt him with her betrayal. Wounded him so deeply that he felt as if he could lift his shirt and see blood pouring from his chest.

  But this…this broke his heart. “I can’t believe that Samantha was right. I can’t.”

  He felt a hand on his shoulder. When he turned, it was Bethany. Her eyes were bright with tears. She might not understand the language, but she knew what had happened. He covered her hand with his.

  “I am so sorry,” she whispered.

  “It’s okay,” he replied, though he wasn’t sure anything would ever be okay again.

  “Samantha?” Eva interrupted. “As in Samantha Darrow?”

  The hairs on the back of Xavier’s neck sprung upward, and he shunted the pain aside, bringing himself back to the situation at hand. If he wanted to mourn the loss of his sister, it would have to be later.

  A FARC encampment wasn’t the place to lose his shit.

  Eva looked over at Bethany, growing recognition in her eyes. “What is your girlfriend’s name?” she asked Xavier.

  Taking a deep breath, Xavier swallowed the grief and pushed it down to a place where it couldn’t touch him. He stepped in front of Bethany, putting himself between the two women. He locked his gaze on Eva.

  Eva smiling. Fighting by his side. Standing at Miguel’s grave, her hand in his.

  He shook the images away.

  The woman with the M16 was not Eva. She was a FARC solider. Nothing more.

  Not his sister.

  And he knew what FARC did—they took what didn’t belong to them. They didn’t deserve any explanations. “It doesn’t matter who she is. We’re leaving. You owe me that. Have fun with your war.”

  “Bethany?” Eva asked. “Bethany Darrow?”

  “What?” Bethany replied.

  Dammit.

  He clenched his jaw tight. Bethany couldn’t have known to keep silent. In the future, he was going to have to teach her more tricks of the trade—and some Spanish.

  In the future? He shook his head. That was a thought better left for later.

  Eva continued, switching to English. “Since you are my brother, I’ll give you the option of leaving. But not her.” She nodded toward Bethany. “She is taking her sister’s place.”

  “Like hell I am,” Bethany contradicted.

  “Did I offer you a choice?” Eva cocked the weapon.

  “She leaves with me,” Xavier said.

  “Why? She is nothing to you. You said so.”

  “Oh,” Bethany uttered.

  He glanced back at Bethany. Her face was pale with a green tint. He’d seen that shade before—on the face of a man who was gut-punched. “You never know when to shut up, Eva. You never do,” Xavier said, forcing his voice level and low when all he wanted to do was yell. “And you don’t know everything.”

  “Well, neither do you. She stays as a replacement for her sister.”

  Xavier clenched and unclenched his hands. This was degenerating into a battle of wills, and with Eva, those were almost impossible to win. She was as stubborn as a burro. “Bethany, walk out.”

  “Not without you.”

  Great. Two stubborn women. “Go. I’ll be right behind you.”

  “You never listen to me,” Eva rambled, huffing in exasperation. “Don’t worry, I won’t kill her. She is too valuable. But I can hurt her if you try to take her.”

  She wasn’t kidding. Eva would do what was needed to accomplish what she wanted. Even as a child, she was fearless and driven. As his sister, he loved that about her. Nurtured it.

  As his enemy, it was a pain in his ass. “I’ll stay instead,” he said in Spanish.

  “There’s no one to pay for you. They’ll just kill you.” Eva stiffened. “I need her. Not you.”

  Not even the dark place in his gut could contain that verbal punch. Xavier ground his teeth, trying to make her last words change.

  And the sound of shouting penetrated the walls of the thin shack.

  Someone had found the body. Crap.

  Eva frowned at Xavier. “I don’t know what you did, but you need to leave. I can’t protect you if they find you here. Go.”

  She turned her gaze to Bethany. “You stay.”

  Bethany paled, but she pulled her shoulders down and stepped out of his shadow. “No.”

  Eva looked ready to shoot, and Bethany steeled herself.

  She thought of her mother. Her sister. They’d been apart too long, and Eva wasn’t going to stop their family reunion.

  She took a step back toward the door. Eva matched her, taking a step forward. Once again, Xavier placed himself between her and danger.

  Bethany touched the small of his back. “It’s okay,” she reassured. “I can handle this.”

  “Listen to her, brother,” Eva said.

  Bethany hesitated, not missing the anxiety in Eva’s voice. The FARC soldier was pushed into a place she didn’t want to be—forced to choose between her cause and her brother. Bethany suspected that if forced, she’d pick her brother.

  Xavier might not think so. He was too withdrawn to see anything right now, but she heard the quiver beneath Eva’s bravado and she didn’t miss the way Eva looked at Xavier, a combination of hero-worship and admiration.

  “I am,” Xavier said. “She’s nuts. And we’re leaving.”

  “I am not nuts,” Bethany protested. “But you’re right. I’m walking out with you.” The shouting grew closer. It wouldn’t be long now.

  “How do you plan to leave, chica?” Eva asked. “I am the one with the loaded gun.”

  “Through the door, and you won’t stop us because you won’t hurt your brother,” Bethany said, calling her bluff.

  Eva leveled the gun at her chest, hesitated and then lowered it to her leg. “I will not kill you. You are money to us. But I can make it so you can’t run.”

  “Good luck with that,” Bethany said, sounding more flippant that she felt. “Let’s go, Xavier.”

  “About time,” Xavier said. He opened the door for Bethany.

  The gunshot echoed in the small hut and kicked up the dirt next to Bethany’s foot, making her jump and leaving her ears ringing.

  “Don’t think I won’t do it,” Eva dared.

  The shouting grew closer. Too close. They’d be here in minutes. Seconds. Bethany’s heart pounded. She glanced at the two brackets on either side of the door and the rough two-by-four next to it. Hands shaking, she slid the wood into the brackets. A crude lock, but it might buy them a few seconds.

  “Dammit, Xavier,” Eva cursed. “You couldn’t just leave, could you?”

  Xavier stalked over to his sister in response. “I should have done this five minutes ago.” He grabbed the barrel of the weapon.

  “Oh, crap,” Bethany whispered.

  Eva glared at him, and for a moment, Bethany wondered if she’d called it wrong. That Eva would choose FARC over Xavier.

  Eva’s cheeks bloomed pink, and she relaxed her grip, her knuckles going from white to tan. Xavier yanked the weapon from her hands. “One day, you are going to come to your senses and when you do, you are going to beg my forgiveness.”


  “I might say the same.” She sank down onto the cot.

  He shook his head. “Never.” He handed the gun to Bethany. “Hold this. Eva isn’t allowed to play with weapons anymore.”

  There was a pounding on the door. Bethany caught Eva’s name, but that was it. “Now what?” she asked.

  “That way,” Xavier said, heading to the back wall. “Just be ready to run. As long as we stay ahead of them, they won’t be able to get a shot. Just don’t stop moving. Don’t lose me.”

  “And if I do?”

  “Don’t.” He raised his foot and kicked out the board in one thrust. Squeezing through, he held out his hand.

  Behind her, the door splintered. She slid between the planks, took Xavier’s hand and ran.

  Chapter 14

  “What now,” Bethany asked, squinting into the dark ahead of them. The sky had been purple when they entered the compound. Now, with the help of the canopy, it wasn’t black, but it was close, and trees were turning into mere shadows.

  Crashing and gunfire followed them, making her cringe.

  “Keep moving,” Xavier said, helping her over a broken branch.

  “I don’t think they’re going to give up.” She tripped and caught herself before she fell. Unlike the Colombian army, FARC would not be dissuaded from pursuit in the dark. She meant money, Xavier meant revenge and there were few stronger motivations.

  She’d survive being captured, but if they caught Xavier…she shuddered at the thought. There was little doubt that they’d make an example of him. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d used scare tactics to remind the government of who ruled the jungle.

  She grabbed Xavier’s arm, slowing him. “We need to lose them. Backtrack and wait for them to pass us.”

  “Backtrack?” His face remained impassive, but the doubt in his voice told her what he thought of the idea.

  “I know it seems simplistic,” Bethany pressed, “but we can’t run forever.”

  She grazed a tree and sent birds squawking into the night.

  Xavier groaned and she knew what he was thinking—that she might as well have sent up a flare that said, “Here I am.” But he didn’t stop and didn’t agree.

  “Please,” she begged, not caring how it sounded. “I’m not a pro, but if people wander away on trips, I am skilled enough to find them. I can make this work. We can make this work.”

  Sweat beaded Bethany’s forehead, and the dampness had nothing to do with the heat. FARC still lagged behind, but it wouldn’t take long for them to catch up. Not with flashlights and determination driving them.

  “Okay, let’s do this,” Xavier conceded. “And fast.”

  She almost cried in relief. It wasn’t much of a chance, but it was better than nothing. Using the hem of her T-shirt, she wiped her brow. “Stay in your tracks.” Bethany indicated, though in looking down, even with her eyes adjusted to the darkness her tracks were almost nonexistent. “Break some branches.”

  Two minutes later they’d retraced their path, making it as obvious as possible that they’d gone on. Behind them, birds took flight, squawking. FARC was close now. “Time to hide,” Xavier confirmed.

  She nodded, adrenaline making her shake. Being careful to leave no trace, they wormed their way off the path, hunkered down and waited.

  Despite the increasing darkness, the air remained heated and thick. The scent of moss and decay filled her nose. Would she ever get the smell out of her head?

  Beams of light came into view as the FARC soldiers followed the trail they’d created.

  “Think they’ll fall for it?” Bethany asked. They were thirty feet from the trail, and while the dense foliage was more than enough cover, she still felt exposed.

  “It’s your idea. What do you think?”

  Their lives were hanging on her idea. The responsibility unnerved her. She glanced at Xavier, a mere shape beside her.

  He does this all the time, she realized. The sudden comprehension made her blink in surprise. Every time he went out, he took that responsibility. Sure, his men were skilled. Trained to fight. To kill. To do what was needed to accomplish the mission.

  But he was the leader, and it was up to him to make sure they all came home alive. Even her. The unexpected insight boggled her mind. “How do you do it?” she whispered.

  “Do what?”

  “This? Save people. Take that responsibility.”

  “I never thought about it,” he revealed. “Now be quiet.”

  The explanation didn’t quiet her awe.

  Seconds later, a beam from a flashlight swung over. She held her breath, even though her head told her there was no way they could hear her breathing. The beam kept going, creating an arc of light through the jungle. She found herself straining to hear the soldiers but caught only a few quasi-familiar words. Prisa. Esta manera.

  Then a familiar, feminine voice captured her attention. Eva.

  Xavier’s breath caught at hearing his sister, and though the sound was almost imperceptible, it broke Bethany’s heart to hear it. She slid her hand over to Xavier’s, touching his fingertips with hers. He didn’t pull away, but neither did he take her hand.

  A tense minute later, the lights went past them and continued north, following their trail. “I’m sorry,” she whispered as they waited for them to disappear out of sight.

  “For what?” Xavier said.

  “Eva.”

  Xavier pulled his hand from hers. Rising to his knees, he gazed down the path. “It’s clear. Let’s go.”

  So, he didn’t want to discuss his sister. She couldn’t blame him. He was a leader and focused on escape. She wished she could compartmentalize like that. If Samantha had turned traitor, she’d be talking to everyone, working it out with words.

  But Xavier wasn’t her.

  She took a deep breath. Talking could wait. “What next? I can guide, but escaping the enemy is your forte, not mine.”

  “We go back the way we came and get our packs, providing they haven’t found them,” Xavier explained.

  “After that?” Bethany asked.

  Xavier headed toward the trail. “More walk. Less talk.”

  She hoped he had a plan. The jungle remained silent around them, the birds and insects having scattered or gone quiet at the commotion of the humans, and the less talk part of Xavier’s command was killing her.

  She needed to know what was going on. Not knowing was worse. And if he wouldn’t talk about Eva then he needed to give her something to focus on besides a hazy future. “Are we going to get out of this?”

  “Yes.”

  He sounded so sure. “How?” she pressed.

  “Tonight.”

  “That’s a when. Not a how.” They both knew that traipsing through the jungle was dangerous. “Isn’t the jungle at night a death wish?”

  “By morning, there will be men everywhere and they will be expecting us. That decreases the odds.” He hesitated. “Plus, that’ll give them time to set traps to try and capture us.”

  “Traps?” The word brought up imagines of frond-covered pits.

  “Guerrilla warfare,” Xavier stated. “Snares that can run a stake through your legs. Trip wires. Traps designed to maim. Not kill.”

  Bethany chilled despite the heated jungle air. “I can handle that,” she affirmed, not sure who she was trying to convince. “I can be careful.”

  Xavier stopped in the path, his face just visible in the remaining light. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking they aren’t skilled. Some are no more than farmers who can’t hit the side of a building, but many are trained. Always go with the assumption that they are as good as we are. Maybe better, since this is their turf. We leave tonight.” He began walking again.

  Bethany sighed. She knew why he was forcing this—he wouldn’t be the one to blunder into a trap. It would be her. Visions of herself with a sharp stick in her leg raced across her mind, followed by visions of herself as a FARC hostage. And then Xavier captured because he wouldn’t abandon
her.

  He was suggesting this because of her. For her.

  Just when she thought she couldn’t stand another layer of guilt.

  Guilty conscience or not, she needed to show him that she was trustworthy despite her sketchy track record. “Let’s start walking,” she suggested, keeping her voice steady. “Maybe we can find a place to set another zip-line in the morning.” Though the thought of speeding across herida roja again made her nauseous.

  “Walk?” Xavier declined. “There’s no way we’ll keep ahead of them. Not now. We’re going to steal a jeep.”

  They’d dodged two more tracking parties to recover the packs, rifle, ammo and find a suitable locale to watch the FARC encampment. Lit with a combination of oil and battery-powered halogen lanterns, there was enough light to illuminate both the compound and the surrounding jungle. It seemed that most of the soldiers were gone—searching for her and Xavier, no doubt. She lowered her binoculars.

  Still, there were enough men milling about to make her nervous.

  “No one will expect us to steal a jeep,” Xavier insisted, his voice firm and strong enough to almost make her believe it.

  “It is a little ballsy,” she confirmed. “But also insane.”

  “That’s the beauty.” Xavier chuckled, a surprising sound considering the last hour’s ordeal. “We move fast. Keep our eyes peeled. Stay frosty.”

  “Frosty?” she huffed, wiping the sweat off her forehead.

  He raised a brow. “You know what I mean.”

  She smiled. “I do. So, how does one steal a guarded jeep?”

  “Hot-wire.”

  It figured. “How do we keep them from following? Shoot the tires?”

  “No,” Xavier replied. “We’ll need to permanently disable them. A few good explosions should do the trick.”

  Bethany frowned. “With what? Sebastian has the dynamite.”

  “Doesn’t matter. Dynamite is too iffy,” Xavier explained. “Too long a fuse and FARC can toss the stick before it explodes. Too short and we’ll get caught in the blast.”

  She remembered the blast from the bridge, the men plunging to their death, the few who were caught in the middle of the blast, and her stomach rolled over.