by Candi Wall
Seiret’s words shocked him. He had never known his friend to show anger. Now was not the time to question the uncharacteristic words. “I will signal for each man I take down.”
Seiret nodded, his eyes hard. Then he slipped away.
Damon took the opposite direction and Seiret’s first whistle came from across the clearing within minutes. Nine left. He had underestimated his friend for many years.
Several yards away, two men stood together. Damon moved deeper into the foliage as he circled behind them. Sliding his hand up a monigla vine, he tested its strength. It was sturdy, but he could not be certain it would hold two long enough…another of Seiret’s whistles floated on the breeze. Eight. There would be none left if Damon did not hurry.
The men continued to talk as he closed the distance to where they stood. When one of the men reached into his pocket, Damon rushed forward. Startled, the men jerked away, but not far enough.
Damon wound the long vine around their necks and yanked hard. The men’s heads crashed together with a dull thud. One of the men managed to bring his gun up and before Damon could knock it free from his hand, he fired off a shot. The sound reverberated through the jungle.
The element of surprise was lost.
Damon yanked down on the vine a second time and the coarse trailing plant cut into their throats. As one, they slipped to the ground. Damon whistled twice as he ran. Six. Seiret whistled in response. Five.
All but one of the men rushed from the tent, their guns raised. Damon held his position behind them. He watched the bushes across the clearing, and when one of the men yelled, Damon smiled. Seiret’s aim was true as always, and the man fell to the ground. A second yell followed before Seiret stepped from the cover of the trees.
With a feral grin, he whistled twice. Three left.
He hollered to the men, his dart blower lowered at his side. Damon knew they did not understand his friend, but his words were strong. “There were fifteen and now there are three. It took all of you to place an old man on his knees and put a bullet in his head. Run. It is your only mercy. If you do not, I will kill you as well.”
The men glanced at one another, their rifles pointed in Seiret’s direction. When the men did not react, Seiret pulled the blower up to his mouth and sent a dart through the air. The report of a rifle preceded the shock of pain that creased his features.
Damon rushed forward and brought his arm down on the remaining man’s shoulder. Kicking his feet from underneath of him, he grabbed the gun and flipped it over to point it at the man’s head.
“Call out your other man.” When the man hesitated, Damon yelled, “Call him now!”
He did. But it was not the other man who walked from the tent. Cuklho stepped forward slowly, her head held high. “He will not harm another.”
The others followed. She crossed the ground with shaky steps to where Seiret lay. Damon rushed across the clearing and dropped to the ground next to him, leaving the last man to the mercy of the others. Blood poured from Seiret’s shoulder, and he grimaced when Damon lifted him to probe along his shoulder blade.
“Where is Cuklho?”
Seiret’s words were strong. A good sigh. Cuklho joined Damon on the ground. “I am here.”
Seiret nodded. “Good. You are safe.” He caressed her cheek. “I have killed the men who took your father’s life. I am worthy.”
Tears poured down her cheeks. “Yes, of course. You always were worthy. Now rest. We will get you some help.”
One of the doctors came forward. “Will he let me help?”
Damon translated. “He wishes to help you.”
With a strangled laugh, Seiret nodded. “He should have helped me take care of these men. You were not much help.” He chuckled again and took Cuklho’s hand. “How many did you kill, Maglayo?”
Humor. This was a good sign. “Only two, my friend. You did well.”
Damon glanced at the doctor. “He has agreed.”
The doctor probed the wound, leery when Seiret groaned. “The bullet went through.”
“He will live?” Damon knew his fear for his friend was obvious and it would be seen as a sign of weakness. He no longer cared. So much death.
The doctor smiled. “He is strong. The wound seems to have missed anything vital, so yes, I would say he should be fine.”
Cuklho rose with him as he stood. “Maglayo?”
Damon turned in the direction the vehicle and Myla had gone. “What is it, Cuklho?”
“Tinjtol is dead.” This was no surprise, but she continued, “He distracted the last man, so I—so I could—”
Her voice broke, and Damon noticed the blood staining her fingers. She tried to wipe it away, and he took her hands in his. “You were very brave.” He waited until she looked at him. “When I leave, Seiret will lead our people. He will need you to stand at his side.”
Her tremulous smile was bright. “He loves me.”
He nodded. “You love him as well. And because you love him, you would do anything to protect him?”
Her shoulders straightened. “Yes.”
“Then you will serve him well. I will not worry, knowing you will be his strength. That you will be his kalhcon.”
The soft trill of the maliki bird sang down from the trees. Damon watched as it soared down from the branches to drift on the wind, its wings spread wide. Floating in the direction Myla had gone, the bird glided toward a tree. Landing on a long branch, it ruffled its feathers and turned to stare down at them all.
His omen.
“Take care of Seiret, Cuklho. I must find Myla.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Myla clenched her teeth to keep from biting her tongue as the vehicle dipped and jolted over roots and washouts in the sparsely carved road. She doubted the road was traveled often. And at the rate of speed John drove, the rough terrain would jar her bones loose.
She tightened her hand around the rough sediment still clutched in her fist. It wasn’t much to work with, but if the opportunity arose, she would take great satisfaction in rubbing the grit in John’s eyes. He drove too fast at the moment, and she really didn’t want to waste her only weapon. If he lost control of the vehicle, it could kill them both.
Her mind raced. What would happen to all the people she’d left behind? She could still see Damon, the concern in his eyes. That was not the way she wanted to remember her last glimpse of him. And now, because she’d pushed John even after his threat, Damon and the others could die.
“Up ahead, you should have signal.” John pointed to an opening in the trees before tossing a cell phone into her lap. “You will call Mr. Harrison and tell him you fabricated everything. Spurned-lover-type thing. Say what you want, so long as you convince him.”
“John, he’ll never believe me.” She gripped the seat when he cut a sharp corner. “He was already suspicious.”
“Then it’ll be up to you to convince him you led him in that direction from the start.”
She prayed Mr. Harrison would see her call for the desperate plea it was. She would have to word things carefully. The cell phone almost slipped off her lap, and she tucked it into the pocket of her cargo pants. “I will try.”
He jerked the wheel and slammed on the brakes. The jeep skidded to a stop. She had to brace her hands against the dashboard to keep from slamming into it. When he turned to look at her, the desperation in his eyes was blatant. “You’ll do it, or I’ll call back to the men and have them start picking off one person at a time until you make him believe you.”
She shook her head, horrified by the vision his words created. “John, you can’t do this.”
“I can.” Pushing his door open, he slipped the gun from his waist and pointed it at her. “And I’ll start with your boyfriend. Now, get out.”
Myla fumbled with the door handle. Her hands shook until the sand started to sift between her fingers. Then he was outside her door. Desperate, she tried to lock the door. He ripped it open before she could and she tumbled out, her
knees smashing into the ground.
She stayed where she landed, waiting. This might be her only chance. When he reached down to pull her to her feet, she smashed the sand into his face, raking her fingers through his eyes. He reeled back with a strangled curse.
Scrambling to her feet, she took off. His angry yell followed her into the trees. She ran hard, each breath reverberated through her head. She could hear her heart pound, or maybe…
John followed. It was his footsteps she heard.
The land sloped, and she focused on the obstacles ahead. The hillside carried her down quickly so she only had to avoid anything that would slow her progress. A shot rang out through the trees. Wood splintered off the tree next to her and she threw her hands up to cover her head. But she refused to stop.
She had no idea where she was going. All that mattered was putting some distance between them. Enough to find a place to hide. She scanned the area, desperate.
Think, think. She knew this land now. She had the advantage.
Up ahead at the base of the hill a brook came into sight. The roots of nearby trees bridged over the slow-moving water. Getting through them would be difficult, but the other side of the brook opened up into a flatter plain. The trees would be sparse there.
The cell phone! She nearly tripped in her excitement. She still had the cell phone in her pocket. It took several attempts to retrieve it at a run and she nearly lost her grip when she stumbled. The brook loomed ahead, and she glanced at the screen.
Jumping onto the first of the staggered roots, she climbed over them. Each hesitation created a flutter of panic in her chest. Her heartbeat roared in a deafening rush through her ears. She concentrated and placed each foot.
Almost there. Her foot slipped on the slick wood, but she caught her balance. John’s yell and a second roar from the gun followed. She threw herself across the remainder of the brook, and the moment her feet hit the ground she was off again. The trees thinned until finally, she burst out into the bright sunlight.
Sprinting over the open field, she held the phone up in front of her. She could do this. She ran all the time. This was the same. One foot at a time. Focus. The numbers stilled before her, and she typed in the emergency connection for E.I. After hitting the send button, she pressed the side button to engage the speakerphone.
At the same time, she dared a glance back. John struggled across the brook at a quick pace.
Then she heard the operator.
Myla screamed over the woman’s greeting. “Myla Jordan. Emergency. Get me Emily Brooks. Now.”
Another gunshot reverberated behind her, and she cried out as a searing pain ripped through her thigh. She stumbled, catching herself before she hit the ground. She had to keep moving.
“Myla?”
A flood of relief eased the pain and lessened the restriction forming in her lungs. “Emily, send help. There are men. Hurry.”
“Where? Myla where are you?”
She was slowing. Her damp pant leg clung to her thigh and knee. Every step became more difficult as she dragged her leg forward. “The tribe. Send help.”
Stumbling again, Myla didn’t have the strength to catch herself, and she smashed into the ground with jarring impact. She rolled forward, landing in a heap. “Emily, hit the mute button.”
Fear closed in with John’s approach. She slid the phone back in her pocket before turning to face him. “John, stop. You win. I’ll do whatever you ask.”
He bent down, bracing his hands on his knees. His heavy breathing filled the silence. “Stupid—that was—stupid—Myla.”
She shook her head as he raised the gun. “No. Don’t shoot me again. John, please. I’ll make the call to Mr. Harrison. Give me a second to catch my breath.”
“I didn’t want—to—shoot you, Myla.” He waved the gun at her. “You should have listened.”
“I know. I will.” She pushed up to her knees, ignoring the searing pain in her leg. With her hands on the ground, she dropped her head forward, inhaling deeply. While she stalled, she took a moment to gain her bearings.
They had crossed the open field, and beyond the tree line behind her, the land dropped. She couldn’t tell if there was another slope or if they were near one of the numerous cliffs that carved out the rainforest. Shifting her legs around with a grimace, she sat down. Blood from her wound had darkened the entire length of her pant leg.
“Make the call, Myla.”
John’s voice pulled her back from her thoughts. “Why did you do this, John?”
His laugh was short. “You have no idea what it’s like to spend years of your life helping others and gaining nothing in return.”
She wasn’t going to say a word to interrupt his monologue. The longer he talked the better chance Emily could get help to the tribe.
“Day after day, I spent in this damn jungle. Every effort thwarted by bureaucracy. The government didn’t care what happened to these people, they only cared for how much oil money they could make.” He shrugged. “When I finally realized I couldn’t beat them—”
“You joined them.” She finished the cliché with a scoff. “And you left me.”
He walked forward and pulled her to her feet. The quick movement sent a ripple of agony through her leg, and she cried out. “You were too good of a person. Too honest to follow me in this path. Even now, I hate to do this to you.”
His hand moved down her arm. She tried not to shy away from his hideous touch. Her skin crawled just being near him. “You hate it, yet you’ll do it anyway?”
“Damn right. No woman is worth the millions I stand to make.” He gripped her jaw with vicious pressure. “Not even you.”
With a harsh shove, he pushed her through the trees and within moments, the land changed.
They stood near a monstrous cliff. The sheer distance to the treetops below made her head spin, and she took a step back. The solid wall of his chest blocked farther movement. “Make the call. Now.”
She reached into her pocket and ended the call to Emily as she pulled the phone free. Calm settled around her and she stared at the blank screen. The rush of the wind through the trees brushed past, whispering over her skin. Damon’s smiling face appeared in her mind as she typed in the numbers John recited. His fingers closed over hers, ripping her back to the moment. “Put it on speakerphone.”
Whipping around to face him, she finished dialing the numbers. After three rings, Mr. Harrison picked up. “InterCorp Oil.”
Myla steadied her voice. “Mr. Harrison, this is Myla Jordan from Endurance International.”
“Yes, Ms. Jordan. I received your e-mail. We should meet—”
Myla cut him off. “That isn’t necessary. You see, I sent those files in error.”
Mr. Harrison cleared his throat. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”
“I created them all. Everything I sent is nothing more than my attempt to stop InterCorp from more drilling.”
Mr. Harrison’s confusion was clear even through the phone. “But, that list of names and dates—”
“Yes.” Myla cut him off again. If John didn’t know the list had come from Mr. Harrison’s office originally, then it was a sure way to warn the vice president that all was not as it seemed. “I used several of the most influential names I could find and linked them to the pictures I took of the barrels before they were labeled.”
There was silence for a moment. John’s eyes were bright, his body taut as he waited. When Mr. Harrison spoke again, his voice was gruff. “Ms. Jordan, you realize the severity of this situation?”
“Yes, sir. I do.”
“Then it would be best for you to turn yourself in to the proper authorities. I will be filing an official complaint against you immediately. Your attempts could have destroyed the careers of numerous men.” With a disgusted sigh, he continued, “I will try to clear this up on my end. Good day, Ms. Jordan.”
The phone went dead.
John reached for it. She hesitated.
She
’d done what John asked. Hopefully, Mr. Harrison would figure out what had happened. If he hadn’t already. Emily was sending help. Now there was nothing left for her to do.
She wasn’t sure what made her do it, but her arm arched backward over her shoulder, and the phone sailed out of her fingers to disappear over the cliff. “Now what?”
John tucked the gun into his belt and ran a hand through his hair. Surprisingly, he laughed. “Myla, I always loved your spirit.”
He took a step forward, his gaze roaming down her body. When his fingers looped through the button at the top of her shirt, her heart stopped. No, he couldn’t actually think…
“What are you doing?”
He smiled and hooked an arm around her waist. When his mouth neared hers, she twisted away, slipping under his arm. Backing away slowly, she kept an eye on the edge of the cliff.
He followed slowly. “Come on, Myla. We used to have a great time. I remember so many nights I spent in your bed.”
“Hang on to the memories.” Her stomach turned, considering what they’d once shared. “That’s all you’ll ever have.”
His smile faltered briefly. “There’s no one around. No one knows where you are. I could do whatever I wanted to you, and there wouldn’t be a soul around to witness it.”
Her heart skipped, and she closed her eyes for a moment to ease the sick sensation swirling in her stomach. He was right.
The cliff behind her beckoned her closer. Could she jump? His threat was ugly, what he planned was awful, but her life was worth more. She glanced down. She could live knowing he had taken her without consent, so long as he paid in the end.
The ache in her leg threatened her balance. If she wasn’t careful, she would tumble down the cliff without trying. He said something, but the words faded. Her eyes moved over the scenery. A green carpet of trees lay below, and in her mind she saw the otters, their bodies glistening as they darted through the river.
Bright hibiscus, dotted along the myriad of green foliage, the fragrance heavy on the humid air. Delicate orchids, so fragile in appearance it seemed strange that they would flourish in such a harsh world.