Marley’s training kicked in and she tucked her chin to her chest, crossed her arms and ankles. Her feet slapped the treetops as she pierced the thick foliage, scraped and battered by the sharp branches. Her shoulder snagged on a limb and ripped the material of her flight suit, the damage happening so fast she didn’t have time to process the pain. And then she jerked to a stop.
The sudden halt slung her arms away from her chest and the movement sent a blast of burning pain across her left arm. She dangled back and forth, her body spinning until finally her momentum faded and she slowed enough to inspect her bicep. There was a long red gash in her arm, blood flowing freely from the wound. A quick survey confirmed that it was deep enough to need stitches. Any open wound in the Congo required swift treatment and a thick bandage to prevent infection, which could just as easily kill someone out here as the hundreds of species of poisonous snakes and insects.
First things first, she had to get out of this tree and locate the team. Marley looked down and instantly slammed her eyes shut against a wave of vertigo. She was still a good fifty feet off the ground, and the smooth dark-brown branches of the giant tree that had snagged her parachute jutted up toward her like giant gnarled fingers, ready to snap her legs if she fell. The only thing holding her up was her chute.
Careful to keep her chin tilted up, she opened her eyes, her gaze falling on one particularly viable looking branch a few feet above her head to the right.
She’d have to swing her body in a large pendulum back and forth in order to reach the branch, and that kind of movement could rip her parachute free from the limb if it didn’t have a solid hold. If that happened, she would plummet and more than likely die from the impact.
If she didn’t, her only option was to cut herself free or wait on the operatives to come find her and rescue her like some helpless damsel in distress.
She’d already freaked out on them back in the plane—the pilot, a captain in the U.S. Air Force with years of training and experience under her belt.
Oh hell no, no more brain farts and no more waiting for someone else to take action.
It was unlikely her parachute would tear now, after holding her weight for the past few minutes, but it was inevitable those men would look at her with pity if they found her like this.
All she had to do was not look down.
Marley looked down and whatever remained of her stomach came straight up into her chest, sending shock waves through her body. This fear of falling thing was really becoming a detriment.
Determined to fight through it, Marley kicked her legs out and then repeated the process as her body began to swing back and forth in a wider and wider arc. Little butterflies tickled her belly every time she dipped, but she also drew nearer to her goal. When she got within inches of the branch, she stretched out her hand, grasping at the smooth, bark-free limb with sweaty fingertips just before it slipped out of her grasp. She fell backward, careening in a wide circle, and it took her five more good swings to get her trajectory back under control and her velocity up to an appropriate level to make a second attempt.
Her fingers brushed the branch again, and this time she clenched it and held on with all her strength. A wave of triumph blasted through her veins.
At this angle, she’d have to kick her legs up and over, and straddle the branch like a see-saw. Using the buzz of adrenaline still feeding her movements, Marley swung her legs up, turned herself over, and managed to wrap her arms and legs around the branch. Exhausted, she rested her cheek on the wood, closed her eyes, and took in several deep breaths in an attempt to calm her racing heart.
No matter how stupid it was, having that solid piece of wood beneath her made her feel better. Like she wasn’t over fifty feet in the air, dangling from a tree limb in the Congo after her plane had been intentionally scuttled by her copilot.
Hell, she felt like freaking G.I. Jane.
She’d survived not only one but two near-death experiences in the past two hours. A cold nosedive in a C-130. Parachuting out of the back of the crashing plane.
The bomb. The explosion had rent the air, sending bright red flames bursting across the sky. The billowing smoke was still visible through the small cracks in the thick tree tops overhead.
Make that three near-death experiences. The rush of G.I. Jane power faded away.
Focus. She needed to analyze her surroundings, make a plan to safely and quickly disembark from this giant Amazonian-like tree and get her feet planted on the ground.
Looked like she had about ten feet to go to reach the trunk, and from there multiple branches jetted out in random from the tree nearly to the ground. She could crawl down them like a ladder. Take it step-by-step. Easy as one, two, three.
Marley took a deep breath, pulled on her willpower, and began to inch her way forward. She only made it half a foot before her parachute yanked her to a stop. Fumbling with the Velcro pocket on her right thigh, Marley pulled out her KA-BAR knife and cut her tether free. The movement made her shift to the left. The unbalanced feeling made her shriek, and she released the knife so she could cling to the tree for dear life. Her eyes were drawn to the flashing silver blade as it tumbled over and over in the air and then embedded halfway to the hilt in the soft dirt right between the colonel’s feet.
She gasped and met his shocked gaze. She hadn’t even realized he was nearby.
“Be still, I’m coming up to get you,” the colonel called out.
And rescue her again?
“No thank you, I have the situation well under control.”
Her visceral response to looking down was an unwelcome reminder that the bold claim wasn’t exactly true.
Still, if she wanted him to see her as the capable and intelligent woman she was, she’d figure her way out of this mess on her own. With the same sloth-like speed as before, Marley scooted forward. It seemed like it took her an hour to reach the trunk, when in reality it was probably no more than a minute. Sweat was dripping down her neck by the time she stopped, got to her feet in a crouch, and grabbed the branch just above her shoulders for support.
“Captain–” he paused and Marley prepared for the reprimand that was surely to come. “There’s a good wide limb about three feet down to your left. Think you can reach it?”
Not dumb enough to look down all the way to the ground a second time, she cast her gaze down just far enough to see the narrow area he had specified. Oh yeah, there was a fat branch easily within reach. Lowering to her bottom, she draped her legs over the side and eased her right foot down until her toes touched the limb. Careful to keep her body draped over the branch she currently held onto, she inched down until both of her feet were squarely planted.
Okay, very smooth. You can do this. That was like riding a tricycle…fifty feet in the air.
Marley gulped.
“What’s your name?”
“Mitchell,” she managed to squeak out.
“What is your first name? Mitchell doesn’t fit you.”
“I know what you’re doing, and it’s not going to work.” He was trying to distract her.
“Soldier, I command you to tell me your first name.”
Her reply whipped out instantly. “Marley.”
“Wow,” he said.
“Wow? What exactly does that mean?”
“I pictured you as more of a Margaret or an Elizabeth.”
Both old women and monarchs. Did he think she looked old?
“What’s your name then?” she snapped back. “Maybe it’s Walter—or—should I call you Mr. Walt?”
He grunted and she couldn’t tell if it was a laugh or a sound of annoyance—either way it was at her expense.
“My name is Mack Grey. You can call me Mack.”
It fit him. A man in charge, used to taking action and issuing commands. Damn. She didn’t really have a snide comeback for that, so she chose to keep her mouth shut. Something her father had once said drifted up in her mind: Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to open
your mouth and prove it.
“Marley, I’m going to talk you down branch by branch.”
Grateful for his help, Marley clutched the tree trunk and said, “Thanks.”
“The next one is a little bit farther, maybe four feet to your left. You need to lie on your stomach and let both your legs hang down.”
Her brain on autopilot, Marley looked down past her assigned branch at Mack. As expected, the wave of fear rolled down her shoulders and set her semi-calm pulse back into overdrive.
“Marley, one branch at a time. You’ve got this.”
She nodded, more for her own benefit than to assure him, and went to her knees first, then lay out flat, turning so that she was perpendicular over the fat branch with her feet hanging over a vast void. Four feet equaled forty-eight inches; forty-eight inches was about 122 centimeters. At five-foot-five, she could easily reach the branch.
Marley stretched out her leg, praying she’d brush the next branch with her toes, and met nothing but air. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.
“Marley, you are just a few inches off. Try again.” His voice held a shred of command.
Marley stiffened with irritation. She muttered under her breath, “Why don’t you come up here and do it?”
Her chances for dying seemed to be increasing rather than decreasing.
“What was that?” Mack called out from below.
“Nothing.” Her rib cage hurt and the mild burning in her left bicep heated up.
“You’re doing great. Slide down, reach out your right foot, and hang by your arms.”
Oh my God, she really had to do this. At least the rest of the special operatives weren’t there to see her possible complete failure or meltdown—or both.
“What you looking at, boss?” a distinctly different male voice asked.
Marley stiffened, knowing exactly what part of her anatomy was on display.
Mack said, “Helping our pilot navigate the tree.”
“Want me to go up and get her?”
“No!” Marley forced herself to do exactly as Mack had said a minute ago; she hung on to the branch with her arms and lowered her body south. At this angle, if she didn’t find the limb, it was curtains. Stretching, praying, sweating, she nearly cried out in relief when she felt the limb under her foot.
A few seconds later, she was standing on the next branch down, glued to the trunk and breathing hard. She’d made it another ten feet down, which left about forty feet to go—still a death sentence if she fell.
The next step was a little bit closer, and without waiting for instructions from Mack she was able to take two more limbs down. The last one she landed on was slender, but sturdy enough to hold her weight.
Marley studied the two nearest branches, assessing the possibilities. Both would be a long stretch, but if she wanted to reach the one to her left, a good foot lower, she’d have to hang by her fingers, relying on blind faith and Mack to guide her feet to the branch below. The other one was a belly stretch away.
As if he’d read her mind, Mack said, “The one on the right looks easier to get to. But there are not very many choices from there. I know the left one is a little bit farther down, if you can reach it, you’ll be able to descend the tree easier afterward.”
Warily, Marley mentally measured out the distance to the two branches. The logical part of her brain knew she should listen to Mack—it was the better long-term option—but the illogical part of her brain, the one that seemed to have taken control, had her easing down toward the closer branch.
“Marley, go to the other branch.”
Oh great, Mack was practically channeling her father now. She’d heard that tone often enough in her childhood.
She wanted to tell Mack to take his tone and stuff it where the sun didn’t shine. He wasn’t the one who was millimeters away from making a mistake and falling to his death. Marley dropped onto her branch with a satisfied grunt and reestablished her position, hugging the trunk with her back. She recognized the other guy standing next to Mack below. He was the blond one from the plane, the one who had been nice to her, and right now he had that same silly grin on his face. Mack, on the other hand, looked pissed that she hadn’t followed his orders.
Marley decided to focus on the friendlier man instead. “Hi there. I’m Marley, what’s your name?”
He gave her two-fingered salute. “Riser. What you doin’?”
Marley palmed the tree and snorted. “Oh, just trying to get a better view of our surroundings.”
“See anything interesting?” Riser asked. The colonel crossed his arms over his chest. His irritation was obvious, which prompted Marley to say, “Not really. Lots of green leaves and vines. I was hoping I’d see a monkey. Maybe even a nice parrot.”
Actually, the only thing she was looking forward to seeing was her feet on the ground. As soon as possible.
She was still about thirty feet up, though this height was apparently acceptable enough to her phobia not to induce another round of vertigo.
Mack’s hardened glance shifted to something just above her head before flicking to his teammate. Riser followed his colonel’s nod, but he was less effective at masking his emotions, because his eyes widened and he let out an expletive. “Shit!”
The blood rushed from Marley’s fingers and toes again and pooled in her chest. Glancing up, she froze. Her entire body went numb.
A snake dangled a few feet above her head.
“Marley, there’s a branch down and to your right. Jump.”
Marley couldn’t take her eyes off the deadly black and brown snake dangling overhead. It had to be the same circumference as her thigh. Its tongue darted out; she started hyperventilating.
“Captain Mitchell, jump now.” Mack’s command broke the terrifying spell holding her body hostage. He had a gun aimed in her direction. The next branch down was much farther than she’d prefer, but she’d rather fall to her death than be eaten alive.
She could practically envision the snake’s body coiling back to strike. Her entire world slowed as she crouched and then sprung sideways. Mack fired, the report of his Beretta blasting through the jungle. She hit the branch belly first, knocking all the air from her lungs, and scrambled to dig her nails into the wood and hold on for dear life. There was a whoosh behind her and then a plop. Marley kept her eyes slammed shut. “Is it dead?”
“Yes,” came Mack’s curt reply.
Riser let out a whistle. Her eyes might still be closed, but she knew it was him. She seriously doubted a man as stoic as Mack Grey ever whistled.
“That is one big snake.”
This entire place was unpredictable and everywhere she looked there was another way she could die. Marley just wanted to go back to her small twin-size bunk in the barracks and wait for her flight back home.
“Marley, open your eyes.” The command had returned to his voice.
Marley took her lips between her teeth and bit down, shaking her head furiously. This was so not what she had signed up for. The mission had seemed so simple: fly the operatives to their jump site in Tanzania, let them jump out of the airplane like the brave yet insane warriors they were, and turn around and fly her happy little butt right back to the base.
All the contingency plans she’d laid out and plotted along her planned route were worth about as much as the burned-up piece of paper she’d written them on. She hadn’t studied up on efficient ways to take out pythons or gymnasts’ guides to jumping from fifty-foot jungle trees.
“I think the snake did her in, Colonel.”
For the first time since meeting him, Marley didn’t appreciate Riser’s sarcasm one bit, and if she could get her jaws to loosen a little, she’d open her mouth and tell him so.
“You’re going to make me climb up there and get you, aren’t you?” Mack asked, exasperation evident in his voice.
This was a Princess Bride-level-damsel-in-distress act.
Marley peeled her eyelids open and forced a small amount of oxygen into her locked-down lun
gs. Was she really going to give up now?
Yes, rescue me!
“I’ve got it,” she ground out.
There was a long drawn-out sigh beneath her. “Just stay put, I’m coming up.”
Mack’s words had her scrambling to find the next limb. She had no intention of allowing him to carry her down out of the tree like a damn kitten being rescued by a burly fireman. Marley, looking over her shoulder, spotted a limb within reach, stretched her leg down to get a toehold, and then pushed herself onto it. She was close enough now that she could see the fine weathered lines around Mack’s eyes. They gave him a ruggedly sexy appearance.
Great, now she was noticing more details about his looks.
Marley eased down to the next branch; it was only a couple of feet down.
“Jump, I’ll catch you,” Mack said.
Oh yeah, he was trying to pull the firefighter routine again. Not today, buddy. Confidence growing, Marley made her way down until she was on the lowest limb of the tree, about ten feet off the ground. Taking a deep breath, and ignoring the two men on the ground, she lowered her body until she was dangling off the edge, holding on with her hands. The five-foot drop was a piece of cake. Marley squeezed her eyes shut and let go.
Before her feet hit the ground, a pair of strong arms wrapped around her waist and caught her. The scent of mint and sage filled her nostrils and she opened her eyes, only to find herself staring directly into Mack’s gray orbs.
Chapter 4
She weighed no more than his parachute, and was as soft as one on top of that. Mack stood there a minute longer than necessary, marveling in her surprisingly womanly curves against his chest. The flight suit contained more than he’d realized.
And she smelled good, too, like fresh daisies on a sunny day.
He could get used to this.
Until she started struggling, attempting to very violently wriggle from his grip, reminding him that women weren’t all soft petals, they had sharp thorns, too.
Mack let her drop, but he grabbed her arms when she nearly flopped on her butt at his feet. She rewarded him with a glare. “I told you, I don’t need your help.”
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