by Dee Davis
“So why didn’t you just leave me?” she asked, her troubled gaze lifting to his.
“Because we were charged with getting you out of here alive. And while I might not understand what the hell is so important about saving some drug lord’s mistress—”
She flinched as if he’d hit her. “I’m sorry I’m not worth the sacrifice.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“The hell you didn’t.” She rounded on him. “And for your information, I have never been di Silva’s mistress. His whore, maybe—if you consider what I did for his organization—but never his mistress.” She stopped, eyes wide as she realized what she’d just said. “I didn’t… I shouldn’t…” Tears welled in her eyes, and Drake wasn’t sure that he’d ever felt as much like an ass as he did standing here right now.
“Look, Madeline, I was totally out of line. Your relationship with di Silva and his organization isn’t any of my business. You’ll have to tell the suits in Washington everything, but you sure as hell don’t owe me an explanation.”
She blew out a breath, squaring her shoulders. “But you’re the one who got stuck with the short straw.”
“Come again?” He frowned.
“You had to risk your life to come and find me.”
He shrugged, relieved to be back on familiar ground. “It was no big deal. I was the best suited for the situation.”
“Retrieving me, you mean.” She was frowning now, too, their momentary détente evidently at an end.
“If that’s what you call saving your life,” he snapped.
“I already said thank you.”
“Actually you didn’t,” he said, fighting his growing irritation. “You just admitted that you needed my help.”
“It’s the same thing.”
“Yeah, right,” he said, bending down to retrieve her bag, the vinyl carryall wedged between two rocks. “Anyway, now that you’re secure, the trick is going to be getting you out of the jungle alive. As I said, this place is going to be crawling with di Silva’s men.”
She shivered, for a moment looking almost lost and a little vulnerable. “So you knew your friends were going to leave you?”
“It seemed the most likely outcome.”
“I see,” she said, chewing on her lower lip. “Can’t you call them? I mean now that they’ve gotten away. Can’t they come back to get us?”
“My com link isn’t working. We’re probably out of range.”
“But weren’t you talking to someone earlier? At di Silva’s house?”
“Yes, but Jason was using a relay. And he’s not here now. So that’s no longer possible.”
“So what do we do?” she asked.
“We get the hell out of here.” He handed her the bag. “Do you know where the pathway leads?”
“To the pool by the falls. I don’t think it goes anywhere beyond that.”
“Which direction did the guy who attacked you come from?”
“From behind. So back toward the ruins. Maybe he came from there?”
“Not possible.” Drake shook his head. “We had the entrance covered. There must be a way down from the cliffs to the north. A second path.”
“So we just have to find it.” She made it sound so simple.
“Yeah. And avoid di Silva’s men in the process.” He reached into his backpack and pulled out a laminated map, spreading it on the largest of the rocks, ignoring the smear of blood staining the granite. “We’re somewhere in this vicinity,” he said, pointing to an area to the south of the little river. “The ruins are here and the cliff path, assuming there is one, should branch off somewhere between the steps and the tree where you veered off-path.”
She nodded. “So we backtrack and try to find it. I mean, it’s our only alternative, right?”
“We could just work our way through the jungle. But I don’t like the idea of doing it without benefit of a detailed map. Worst case we could follow along the water.” He traced the squiggly line marking the stream. “It dumps out here, into the Rio Negro. From there we could make our way down to the coast.”
“Why the coast?”
“That’s where the team will be looking for us. We always have backup plans in case things go south.”
“Plan B.”
“Exactly.” He smiled, admiring her resilience.
“But if we can get back up the cliff to the head of the ruins, there’s a chance we can make it back to the road.”
“Yeah,” he said. “And assuming we can avoid di Silva’s men, we could commandeer a vehicle and make our journey a lot quicker. There’s more chance of our being detected that way, but it’s a hell of a lot better than being forced to make our way through the jungle without provisions.”
“Okay, so the path it is.” Her response was a little too bright, but Drake appreciated the fact that she kept her misgivings to herself.
“All right, then,” he said, folding the map and stuffing it into the backpack. “You stay here, and I’ll do some recon. Check out the path to make sure we don’t have unwanted company.”
“No way,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m not staying here on my own.”
“I thought that’s the way you liked it.” He was goading her and he knew it, but he couldn’t seem to help himself.
“I do,” she admitted. “Most of the time. But just at the moment, I think I’m better off with you. At least as long as di Silva’s men are out there.”
“Well, don’t be afraid to tell me how you really feel,” he said, blowing out a breath, frustration threatening to drive him over the edge. “Okay. Fine. You win. Let’s go.”
CHAPTER 9
I want you to do whatever I tell you,” Drake said, already regretting his decision. “No questions asked. Understood?”
“I promise.” She held up two fingers, Boy Scout style, and despite himself, he smiled.
“All right then, we’re agreed,” he said, reaching down for the dead man’s gun. “If you’re coming, you might as well be armed.”
She nodded, taking the gun and sliding it between the small of her back and her sweats. Then, without further discussion, she followed as he began to move back through the jungle. The air had grown ominously still. No birds chirping. No chatter from the monkeys. Just the faraway sound of the falls, and the quiet drone of insects in the undergrowth.
He motioned for her to stay behind him, and they made their way back to the path without incident. Pulling her down behind the roots of the old gnarled tree, he grabbed his field glasses and swung them in a circular pattern, checking the area for signs of life.
“Everything seems quiet,” Madeline whispered.
“Too quiet,” he said, his senses on high alert. “But I still think we’re better off trying to find the path your attacker used.”
She nodded.
“If I give you a boost, do you think you can make it over the roots?” he asked.
“Beats going under them,” she replied, her eyes dropping to the place where she’d crawled through.
His hands circled her waist and for a moment, he froze, his mind trotting out less-than-virtuous thoughts as his hands dropped down to cup the sweet curve of her ass. Her muscles tightened beneath his fingers, her sharp intake of breath indicating that he wasn’t alone in his thoughts. Had the situation been different he might have been tempted to pull her back into his arms, to satisfy the sharp hunger racing through him.
But even as he had the thought he recognized the sheer stupidity of it. Angry at himself for his own weakness, he shoved her upward, ignoring her gasp of surprise.
“Use the branches above you,” he commanded, the words sounding sharper than he’d intended.
There was a moment’s hesitation, and then she grabbed a low-lying branch, using it to pull herself up and over the twisted roots. On the other side, neither of them spoke, Drake taking the lead as they set off up the trail. There was no excuse for his reaction other than that it had been purely physical. A man reacting
to a woman. Any woman.
He shook his head, forcing himself to focus on his surroundings. The jungle on either side was still abnormally quiet, probably a reaction to fallout from the explosion. In front of them they could now make out the dancing flames of the still-burning ruins, the remaining temple stones stark white against the inky backdrop of the smoke-filled air.
“It’s totally destroyed,” Madeline whispered, coming to a halt as they stared up at the ruins.
“Tyler didn’t have a choice. The only way she could rig it to work was to use the stash itself as part of the explosion. What started out as a surgical strike ended up as full-out obliteration.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice soft. “I know you didn’t want to see it demolished.”
She was right. There was a part of him that couldn’t abide the destruction. But there was another part that understood the necessity of the sacrifice. “Collateral damage,” he said, his gaze still locked on the ruins.
“It’s like you said, it’s for the greater good.”
“That’s what they want us to believe, anyway.” He hated the edge of cynicism in his voice, but years of walking in the shadows, of straddling the line between right and wrong, had left him with little to believe in.
“Will the fire spread to the jungle?” she asked, pulling him out of his bitter reverie.
“Hopefully not. This kind of explosion tends to burn hot and fast, which means it won’t last long. And between the cliffs, the water, and all the stonework, it’s a pretty insulated situation.”
“I’m glad it’s limited to the ruins.” She shot a look at the canopy above her. “After all my time in Colombia, I’ve sort of fallen in love with the rainforest. I’d hate to think I’d played a part in its destruction.”
“Come on,” he said, gruffly. “We need to keep moving.”
She nodded. The ground had begun to slope upward, the sound of the falls increasing as they drew closer to the stone steps that led up into the ruins.
“I don’t see anything that would indicate another path,” she said as they continued the upward climb.
“The guy’s got to have come from somewhere.” Drake paused in front of a tree stump covered with moss and bromeliads, his eyes coming to rest on a half-buried stone off to his right. “Hang on.” He knelt, fingering the broken trunk of a young wax palm directly behind the stone. “There’s something beyond this tree.” Stepping around it, he pushed aside a clump of ferns to reveal more half-buried cobblestones.
“You’ve found it,” Madeline said, her voice rising with excitement.
Drake held his finger to his lips, shaking his head, and she immediately clamped her hand over her mouth, her eyes apologetic.
He waited for a moment, listening; then, satisfied that they were still alone, he motioned her forward, and together they began to work their way up the second path. The ground here was broken by outcroppings of rocks and gnarled tree roots, the ancient stones themselves at times blocking the way. Above them the soft patter of rain hit against the leaves of the trees, the canopy protecting them from the worst of it.
They’d gone about a hundred yards when the jungle suddenly opened out onto a clearing of some kind. Drake pulled Madeline down into the shelter of a small stand of trees and grabbed his field glasses. Just across the clearing he could see the path angle sharply upward, the beveled stones jutting out of the craggy cliff like the plastic handholds on a modern climbing wall.
But of even more concern was the group of men at the base of the cliff. There were fifteen or so, all of them armed, the front-runners already moving toward them as they crossed the clearing.
“We’ve got to hide,” he whispered, shoving the glasses back into his pack.
“Why,” she asked. “What did you see?”
“Di Silva’s men. More than I can possibly take out. And they’re moving our way.”
“Can’t we just cut around them somehow?”
“Not possible,” he said, urging her upward as he drew his gun. “The only way out is up.” He motioned toward the cliff. “And we’d be doing it in plain sight of them. We might as well paint targets on our backs.”
He grabbed her by the arm, yanking her into the heavy undergrowth, then pulled her down behind the moisture-slick face of a boulder, motioning her to stay silent. Although they couldn’t see the path clearly from this vantage point, they could hear the men as they approached.
“This is loco,” a man said. “There’s nobody else out here. The gringos escaped on the helicopter.”
“We have to make certain,” a second man said. “If we miss someone, the boss will have our heads.”
“Who’s to know?” the other man queried.
“Silencio,” a third man whispered. “Something’s moving over there.”
There was a moment’s silence and then a twig or branch broke somewhere off to their right, the noise seeming overly loud. Drake shifted so that he could better see the path. Di Silva’s men were already moving into the jungle, weapons drawn, as they searched for the source of the noise.
Again, the bushes rustled, and a white-tailed deer stepped into view, its head raised in alarm.
“Over there,” di Silva’s man called. “It’s coming from over there.”
Three men burst through the bushes, and the deer, startled, ran directly toward Drake and Madeline, pausing at the rock, and then veering away to disappear into the undergrowth.
“It was only a deer,” one of the men said, lowering his weapon.
Drake could feel Madeline tense beside him. He covered her hand with his, signaling her to be calm. Two more seconds and they’d be gone.
“Sí,” the second one said, shrugging. “I told you it was nothing to worry about. We should be getting back.”
“Momento,” the third man said. “I need to take a leak.”
“And what?” the second man laughed. “You need us to hold your hand?”
Still laughing, the two men turned and left their friend to his business. But before he had the chance, the deer reappeared, running past the startled man, who jumped back, spinning around in surprise as he moved into their line of sight. His gaze locked on Madeline as he aimed his gun, but Drake was faster, firing before di Silva’s man had time to pull the trigger. The shot reverberated through the jungle.
“Oh, my God,” Madeline breathed, the words hardly more than a whisper.
“Come on,” Drake urged, pulling her to her feet. “Focus. We’ve got to move. Now.”
Together they sprinted through the undergrowth, pushing through the heavy leaves and vines, running back the way they’d come. Behind them, the sound of di Silva’s men carried across the whispering silence of the jungle.
Just ahead, the undergrowth thinned as it opened out onto the main pathway. Drake pulled Madeline down. “Stay here,” he whispered. “They won’t see you, and I need to make sure there’s no one coming from the other direction.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but he shook his head, and she nodded once, her expression resigned. Leading with his gun, he stepped out onto the pathway, searching both directions for di Silva’s men. When he was certain the way was clear, he motioned for Madeline to join him and they started back down the pathway, moving as quickly as they dared.
As they came up on the leftward turn, Madeline suddenly stopped, grabbing his arm and pulling him into the shadows of the trees.
“Down there,” she said, motioning toward the curve. “I think there’s someone coming.”
Drake pulled out the binoculars and focused on the bend, the glasses revealing a second group of men, also armed, heading their way.
“Damn it,” he whispered, more to himself than to Madeline. “We’re caught between the two groups. We’ll have to make a break for it.”
“No.” Madeline shook her head. “There’s another way. We can head for the stream. Use the water to cover our tracks. You said it leads to a river.”
“Won’t work,” he said. “They’ll
be able to track us to the stream, which means they’ll know what we’re up to.”
“Not if we don’t leave a trail.” She glanced down at the ground beneath their feet. “Look, the rain’s washed away most of our footsteps from earlier. So if we disappear here, they’ll have no idea where we’ve gone.”
“And how do you suggest we do that?” he asked, the sound of di Silva’s men growing closer.
“We go up,” she said. “That way there are no tracks and then when we’re sure we’re clear, we can make our way to the stream.”
“And how do you propose we do that?”
“The saman trees.” She nodded toward a grove of ancient rain trees stretching down toward the distant stream. “If we use the roots, it’ll give us a buffer between the pathway and any signs we’ve left behind us in the jungle.” She leaped across the path onto a large, twisted root. “Come on, it’s easy.”
The noise level grew as the two groups drew closer. Drake nodded, already following Madeline as she crossed the thick roots of the tree, the ancient wood providing crude but workable stepping stones. Leaping from root to root and tree to tree, they managed to traverse the jungle for fifty yards or so before the enormous rain trees gave way to smaller mata ratons and fledgling wax palms.
Drake stopped to listen. In the distance, muffled by the trees, he could still hear di Silva’s men, but it was obvious that they hadn’t yet picked up their trail. And the vegetation in this part of the jungle was too dense for them to be able to see them, even with scopes or field glasses.
“It might just have worked,” he said, as he dropped down beside Madeline onto the jungle floor. “How the hell did you know to do that?”
“I grew up on a bayou. And the cypress trees that lined our swamp weren’t that different from samans. My sister and I used to make a game of it.” Something dark passed across her face, but before he could comment, she’d already moved off in the direction of the water. “If memory serves, it should be just up ahead.”
They worked their way forward another ten yards or so, the vegetation so thick here that every step was an effort, the humidity bearing down on them as if it were corporeal.