by Nic Saint
Harlan gave him a curt nod. “Jack’s son and heir. If anything happens to him, it will destroy the old man.”
Ty dropped the pictures onto the table. They were captured by a private detective, and featured Roland Thornton and a red-haired young woman, sharing a kiss at a restaurant.
Ty directed his finger at the pictures and cocked his thumb with a clucking sound. “Gotcha,” he grinned.
THE END
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ROLAND
A Thornton Family Novel - Book 2
Nic Saint
Chapter 1
“I don’t think this is the right way, Dad.”
Roland looked up and grumbled something under his breath. Why the kid had to keep calling him Dad even after they’d already dropped their cover was beyond him.
“I think we should be heading in that direction. Dad,” added the young man. He was pointing at a clump of bushes that looked exactly the same as the clumps of bushes in any other direction, Roland thought.
“Look, kid,” he finally said. “Why don’t we drop the charade, huh?” He gestured at the jungle that surrounded them. “Look around. There’s nobody here. I’m not your dad and you’re not my son, so let’s cut the crap, all right?”
Kevin threw him a curious look. “You’re old enough to be one, that’s for sure,” he muttered.
Roland pursed his lips but managed to refrain from commenting.
Trudging through the dense vegetation for the past day had seriously undermined his good-naturedness to the point he could have killed his young sidekick with one well-placed kick to the gut. Or a punch to the throat. Or maybe he could simply knock his block off with that branch over there. He shook his head, trying to clear away the murderous thoughts that kept popping up each time the young man opened his mouth.
“Besides,” added the youngster, “my name is Kevin, bub. Not kid. I mean,” he went on, “how would you feel if I called you grandpa all the time? I’m twenty-three and haven’t been a kid for a long time.” He thumped his chest. “I’m a man, Roland, so why don’t you treat me as one?”
Roland rolled his eyes, and suppressed the urge to throttle his companion.
“I think we’re never getting out of here,” sighed the kid moodily.
”We will get out of here,” shot back Roland emphatically. “And if you hadn’t broken the seal to the compound back there we wouldn’t even be in this mess in the first place.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Blame it on the kid, right?”
“Right,” said Roland, pricking up his ears. A sound had struck his keen ears and he thought it worth checking into. “Stay here,” he ordered. “Don’t move.”
“Sit. Stay. Heel. I’m not your fucking dog, buddy,” grumbled Kevin, but at least did as he was told.
Roland made his way to a small clearing where he thought the sound had originated. He’d been overly optimistic when assuring the young man that they were getting out of this mess. Deep in the jungle of Colombia and completely lost, their situation wasn’t exactly hopeful. Three weeks ago, when his plane had landed at El Dorado Airport, he hadn’t had an inkling of what fate had in store for him. He did now.
At least it hadn’t been a wild goose chase. Proof had emerged that indicated one of Harlan de Montesquieu’s contacts was a notorious drug kingpin, using the tycoon’s distribution network to smuggle huge quantities of dope into the US. Since the HdM clan apparently held the entire DEA in the palm of their hand, as well as numerous other government agencies, it was up to Roland himself to take care of this dirty business once and for all.
If he could prove that HdM’s empire was built on crime and corruption, he could finally take revenge on the man who had brought so much hardship and misery to his family.
Scott, his younger brother, had insisted he join him on this dangerous mission, but he had bluntly refused.
Anna, Scott’s wife, was pregnant, and now was not the time to go traipsing through the jungle playing Rambo or SEAL Team 6. Besides, Scott was in no condition to take on a mission of this magnitude. His head simply wasn’t in the right place. An expecting father’s place was at home. So Roland had set out by himself, only taking along the one person necessary to make this trip a success: Kevin Chandler, a young reporter specializing in drug trafficking stories. If he could prove to Kevin that this drug trail was real, the young man would tell the world, and HdM’s days were numbered. Finally.
Pity the young reporter was such a pain in the ass, though, but that couldn’t be helped. He needed him.
He reached the clearing and his eyes shot across the small space to the other side, where a ramshackle wood cabin had been constructed. What the hell?
He carefully snuck across the grass-covered patch of jungle, his eyes riveted on the first man-made structure he’d laid eyes on in a day.
Ever since they’d had their narrow escape from Contador Bashar’s thugs back in the river village of Montalbán, they’d been tracking their way through the jungle, en route to the nearest hub of civilization he knew had to be around here somewhere.
To Bashar he’d been Franklin Costner, collector of rare tropical birds, hiking along the trail with his young son Bernard. It hadn’t taken the drug boss long to see through his cover, however, and even before they’d managed to escape, he’d known he’d been betrayed by someone in his own entourage. How else would Bashar have known of his arrival?
It was clear to him HdM had his spies everywhere, and would stop at nothing to see the eldest son of his main competitor and archenemy die a painful and horrific death in the jungle of Colombia.
He approached the cabin wearily, careful not to upset the small twigs and dry branches underfoot. And he’d almost reached the small window, when the door to the structure swung open and a long rifle pointed out at him.
“Hands up, mister!” cried a melodious voice. All he could see was the barrel, its owner cloaked in shadow. He had no choice but to do as he was told and raise his hands.
“Don’t shoot,” he grunted. “I’m not armed.”
“What are you then? Or better yet, who are you and what the hell are you doing here?”
He now perceived that the voice was definitely a woman’s, and he frowned. What was a woman doing out here in the middle of nowhere? He decided to give her his spiel. “My name is Franklin Costner and I’m an ornithologist. Me and my son have traveled all this way to study the rare species of birds this wonderful country hosts.”
“Bullshit,” the voice spat. “If you’re an ornithologist you shouldn’t be out here where there are no birds of any plumage anywhere in sight!”
“We got lost,” Roland explained. “We were given wrong directions and we got lost. Can you help us, please? Ma’am?”
The voice remained silent for a beat, then the barrel gestured to the clearing behind Roland. “Step back.”
Seeing no other option, Roland did as he was told and backtracked slowly, his hands still raised.
“Hey, Dad!” suddenly a voice rang out behind him. “I think I found a way out of this crappy jungle!”
Before Roland could warn the young reporter to shut the fuck up, a shot had rung out and he hit the ground hard.
Chapter 2
As the tall man hit the forest floor, Alicia fired off another round, just to be sure. She wasn’t accustomed to visitors, the only people she ever saw around her small dwelling poachers or looters or other bandits, so she always kept the rifle handy.
It was one of the last pieces of advice her father had pressed upon her before he’d disappeared into the thick jungle never to return.
This was six months ago, and still not a word. She’d given up hope by now of his return, figuring he must have succumbed to the dang
ers of the jungle, like many before him.
The tall man was hollering something, but her ears were still buzzing from the powerful discharge of the rifle so she couldn’t comprehend.
He wasn’t too badly looking, she’d noticed, though she didn’t believe his bullshit story about looking for birds for one second. She’d never encountered any ornithologists in these parts, and the ones she’d met before had never looked as handsome as this specimen.
Tall and dark, he was, with piercing eyes green as emeralds. She’d instantly labeled him extremely dangerous and probably after the small treasure trove of information she and her father had collected. But how had he found out? How did he know?
“You can get up now!” she yelled. “And start walking back to wherever you came from! You and that urchin!”
“Hey!” yelled the kid. “Who are you calling an urchin, huh?”
With his youthful face he looked barely over eighteen, she gathered. She waved her weapon in his direction and the kid instantly hit the ground again. “Quit stalling!” she urged, “and get going!”
“Ma’am,” the dangerous-looking hunk called out, holding up his hands in a gesture of peace, “if you could just point us in the right direction, we’d be much obliged. As I said, we’re lost and have been wandering these parts for hours and will probably be wandering for hours more if you don’t help us out.”
She wavered. He sounded sincere enough. Though she was wary of strangers, no one could accuse her of not having a heart in the right place.
“If I help you out, do you promise to leave right away?”
“That’s all we’re asking for, ma’am. Just to know where we are.”
“And if you’ve got some food lying around that’d be mighty welcome too,” hollered the guy’s son. “And some water. I’m parched.” He grinned and looked so much like a mischievous kid she was of a mind to fire off another round. Ammunition was not something easily come by, though, so she refrained from wasting it on these two clowns.
“All right,” she finally relented. “But set one foot inside and I blow your heads off.”
“Fair enough,” agreed the tall man.
“Just stay put and I’ll get you a map and some supplies, all right?”
“Much obliged. You’re a real lifesaver, ma’am.”
She didn’t know about that, but she had to admit that the man had more manners than most of the bandits she’d encountered over the years. After directing one last look at the twosome, she slowly retreated back into her cabin, then slammed the door shut and bolted it. No one had ever accused Alicia Sumner of not being too careful.
Roland heaved a sigh of relief when the woman disappeared inside, taking that big gun of hers with her. He hadn’t come all the way to Colombia to die by the hand of a woman. As far as he could tell she wasn’t even remotely related to Bashar or any of the other gangs controlling these parts.
In fact she looked more like a tourist than a drug trafficker, he decided, with those sunglasses perched on her nose and her hair tucked away in a yellow-and-pink bandana. His eyes had briefly dipped down to the cotton white shirt she was wearing, tied in a knot beneath her midriff revealing a toned belly and hinting at an ample bosom.
A hot tourist in the middle of the Colombian jungle. What the heck was she doing out here? And judging by her accent she was American too. He just hoped she wouldn’t shoot them before they found out a little more about her.
“Come here, kid,” he grunted to Kevin who was still hovering at the edge of the clearing, clearly not interested in being shot any more than he was.
“I… think I’ll wait and see what she comes up with.”
“A map. Didn’t you hear what she just said?”
“If it’s all the same to you, ‘Dad’, I’ll wait this one out. I know females like her. She might just as soon tear us a new one than help us out.”
Suit yourself, thought Roland, as he strolled up to the cabin. He had his own gun tucked safely away in his backpack, but Kevin didn’t have to know that, and neither did Miss Jungle Fever here.
He gave the door a gentle knock and stood aside in case she decided to send a bullet through the closed door. Moments later it was yanked open and she appeared, looking none too friendly. “What did I tell you about staying the fuck where you were?”
He shrugged. “Thought you might need a hand carrying the supplies.”
Her face darkened. “What supplies? What do you think this is? Walmart? Some bread and water is all you’re getting, mister.”
“That’s more than I expected and definitely more than you’re obliged to, ma’am. Now if you’ll just point us in the right direction, we’ll be on our way.”
“The sooner the better,” she grunted, shooting him a heated look. Now that he was seeing her up close, she looked even better than he’d expected. The top buttons of her shirt were undone, and tiny droplets of sweat stood out on the bronzed swell of her breasts. And if that wasn’t enough to make him dizzy, her eyes were of the clearest blue he’d ever seen. A man could drown in those twin pools of azure, he reckoned.
She gave an impatient jerk of her head. “What are you staring at?”
He inclined his head. “Just wondering where you’re from. Your accent. Texas?”
“None of your business, bird man. Now do you want that food and water or what?”
“Sure do, ma’am.”
“Then step the fuck back before I blow your fucking head off.” And with those words she slammed the door in his face.
He grinned. Damn, she was one feisty female.
Chapter 3
“So? What do you think?”
“I think we’re definitely lucky. A couple hours more and we’d been as good as dead.”
The sun was at its peak now, but before long nightfall would set in and they had no way of protecting themselves from the dangers that stalked around at night.
Kevin’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Lucky? That woman’s crazy, Ro— I mean Franklin. The sooner we get out of here the better.“
“I kinda like her,” said Roland, staring at the closed door and wondering what was taking so long.
“Like? What’s to like? She’s obviously some sort of psycho gun nut. That or she’s the vanguard of some drug cartel here to warn off stragglers and other folk not wanted by those psychos.”
Roland shrugged. “She’s a woman all alone in one of the most dangerous places on the planet. It’s only natural she’s careful. For all she knows we could be out to rape her or kill her or both.”
Kevin held up his hand. “I wouldn’t even want to touch her! I wouldn’t even want to come near that crazy bitch! I wouldn’t even want—what?”
Roland gestured with his eyes and Kevin whirled around to face their hostess who had just appeared in the door and was listening intently to his litany. Without a word, she thrust out a bag and Kevin took it eagerly.
“A map of the area and some supplies. Now if that’ll be all, I wish you a good day.”
“Thanks, ma’am,” said Roland, well pleased. “If you don’t mind my asking, what is a woman like you doing all alone in a place like this?” The moment he spoke the words he regretted them. Could he be any more clichéd?
She regarded him contemptuously. “Who says I’m all alone? For all you know I could have a dozen armed men in here, just waiting to run you down and put you in the ground.”
Roland darted a quick look inside. Though it was dark, he had the distinct impression no one else lived here. “To be honest with you, I don’t think you have a dozen men in there, ma’am.”
Suddenly, she whipped that rifle up again, and pointed the barrel straight at his chest. She then threw him a sly grin. “Would you care to repeat that statement, mister?”
“Franklin. Please. Franklin Costner. And this young whippersnapper here is my boy Bernard.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed as she took in his sidekick. “So you’re bird people, huh? Studying birds, or collecting them or what?”
/>
“I’m an ornithologist myself, and my son merely joins me on this little field trips to help out.” When she didn’t respond but merely stared at him, the weapon still level at his chest, he added, “We merely study the birds. We don’t collect them or kill them or sell them or anything of the kind. I’m a man of science, not a poacher.” He then gestured at the gun. “Could you… point that thing elsewhere, please?”
Ignoring his request, she continued staring in the same hostile fashion. “You don’t look like a scientist. You look like one of Bashar’s hoods, to be honest. Tell me, did he send you?”
He spirited an expression of befuddlement on his face. “Bashar? Who is he?”
She grimaced. “You’re a very bad liar, buddy. Now I could shoot the breeze with you guys all day but guess what? I’ve got a fuckton of fucking work to do, so I suggest you take your fucking bird business elsewhere and fuck the fuck off.”
Kevin didn’t seem pleased at this lack of decorum, for he bristled. “Look here, lady. We’ve been nothing but courteous to you and all you can say is fuck this and fuck that. I frankly think you’re quite rude, don’t you… Dad?”
Roland studied the woman carefully. He thought she was even more beautiful when she was vulgar. And something told him she, too, was putting on an act. “I think the lady is right, son. We’ve taken up far too much of her time already.” He inclined his head. “Thank you for the help, ma’am. We’ll be on our way.”
For a moment, she seemed to hesitate, but then she regrouped and nodded. “Fuck off, the both of you, and don’t let me catch you prowling around my property. Next time I won’t be so nice.”
“Nice,” muttered Kevin as they ‘fucked off’. “If that’s nice I wonder what she’s like when she’s pissed off.”