by Amy McKinley
Chris maneuvered to a particularly dense area along a curve in the stream and pushed them to the side, indicating that she should get out. He lifted the canoe and hid it in a crop of bushes and tall grasses. Obscuring their footprints as they went, they moved aside the brush carefully rather than using a machete. It was slow going. When a small clearing opened up, he pulled her to a stop.
“I need to figure out what we’re going to do.” Focusing on her face, he noticed the fear lurking beneath the stubborn set to her chin. He pulled out a canteen and passed it to her before taking some for himself. He raked his fingers through his short hair. “How long have you been running from him?”
She shrugged. “About six months. I never stayed in the same place for very long. I holed up in rooms people would rent me, hoping Mateo wouldn’t find me. I had some money. That was all I allowed myself to grab before I left. If I hadn’t gone then, someone would have come to drag me to Juan Carlos’s house. It was only a matter of time. Mateo was almost possessed when we—or, I should say, he—talked about us marrying.”
“So no real engagement, no baby, no sex?”
Her lips peeled back, and she bared her teeth. “I told you, no. When we were children, I liked him. He was charming. As a teenager and adult, I did not. My family didn’t want me to get too close to him, and my aunt feared he’d hurt me.”
He plucked a blade of grass, then he twirled it between his fingers, never taking his focus off her. “He didn’t leave anyone to watch over you?”
Her skin seemed to leach of color. “I don’t know. I left at night and out the back. I promise you, I didn’t want anything to do with him as a teenager. My aunt told me Mateo’s father’s men killed my parents. They were gunned down in the street—their lives casualties of a drug-related territory dispute in town. Their blood mixed with the dirt not far from where my aunt’s shop was. Juan Carlos is ruthless, and Mateo is so much more so.”
“And he still wanted to marry you, knowing you hated his father?”
A bitter laugh filled the air, and Mari’s anger flashed across her taut features. “I never spoke to him about it. My aunt made sure I knew to be careful. I’m no fool. I’m from Colombia, Chris. Survival is in my blood.”
He nodded. That was true. His wife was tough, something he admired about her very much. Still, the news sat ill with him about Mateo, and something pricked at his consciousness.
“You still doubt me?” Her voice continued to rise. “After all I’ve told you?”
“No, I believe you.” With that revelation, his rage came. It simmered below his skin, ready to erupt. He knew that name, Mateo. He hadn’t shared that with Mari. Nor had he shared that he recognized the Ramirez cartel name. Bits and pieces of his past filtered in to create a bigger picture. Death, torture, and senseless killing was their motto, and drugs were their livelihood. They would not threaten Mari—he’d put an end to their reign of terror.
Their gazes clashed, and he knew she saw the steel in him. “We aren’t leaving. This ends here.”
Chapter 18
Mari
“No!” Mari lurched to her feet. Glaring down at Chris, who had his back to a tree, she clenched her shaking hands into fists. “Going back is death. There is only going forward. No one survives this jungle twice.”
His hazel-green eyes met her wide-eyed stare. His face was a sea of calm determination.
Why is he insisting on doing this? While his reasoning behind what he said was admirable, she was no fool. She’d been lucky to get out when she had. What would happen when they returned, when I’m spotted? Their best option was to stay on their current path.
Fear ruled her emotions and reactions. I can’t go back. She had to make him believe her. Her hand brushed against her pants in frustration. The shape of his dog tags in her pocket sent her reeling. What are my options? Should I hand them over, giving him that piece of his past, his identity? It could distract him and make him want to go home to the States, rather than pursue this death mission. Their very presence symbolized he had another life—even though it was one that didn’t include her. Would everything fall into place once he laid eyes on them? It could be an even worse fate for her. If she did return them, she’d lose him for sure. But he’d be alive.
There was her other concern, the one that’d ruled her decision to keep them from him. What if he just leaves me? Her time was running out—the cartel would surely find her at that point. He couldn’t save her—not even those in power in her country could. There wasn’t any authority in her world that she could count on, at least none she was familiar with. Corruption ran rampant in South America.
Staying firm with her decision, she pushed forward with her strong sense of self-preservation. Getting away and making a fresh start for herself in America was her goal. Going back would compromise that.
They would die.
Her mind spun. She could leave him and push on herself. They weren’t terribly far from the border—she’d been following on his map. Fighting wasn’t something she was afraid to do. As a Colombian woman in a drug-ravaged world, she knew her way around a blade and gun. Around death.
Her pack slung over her shoulder, she clipped him as she moved to maintain their direction out. “No. We’re leaving.” Over her shoulder, she glared. “Or at least I am.”
His hand grasped her elbow, jerking her to a halt, and she sneered at him rather than allowing her tears to fall. “Let go.” Yanking on his grip, she dug her heels in. Nothing terrified her more than facing off with Mateo or his family. She would not win.
“Stop being stubborn. You know I’m right,” Chris said.
“I know you’re dictating, and that’s not going to happen. I’m telling you, I won’t return there.” I’ll lose more than my freedom. I’ll lose you.
“We stick together, Mari.” Chris’s voice left no room for arguments. “You’re my wife. I won’t let anything happen to you. That includes taking care of any threat that means you harm. Juan Carlos and Mateo do. If we leave, they’ll only follow—trust me. It ends here. It ends now.”
Oh, God. He’s right. They’ll never stop. Mateo had wanted her for his wife since they were young—even more so since she’d returned to Colombia. She had no clue why he’d chosen her. With Mateo’s brother’s success, she would pay the price. There was no doubt about it in her mind. Mateo’s jealousy ran deep.
She took in the determined set to Chris’s broad shoulders. The emotions shining in his eyes were what stopped any further protest. Would I ever find a man that even came close to what he’s come to mean to me? Who has such integrity, quiet determination, power—and, best of all, his protective and loving heart? The fight left her. She would take the chance and risk her secret coming to light. Maybe, just maybe, he’d love her anyway.
She frowned, and her shoulders slumped forward. It wouldn’t be easy going against such a powerful man. But Chris was right that it wouldn’t end if she left. Mateo would hunt her down. With Chris by her side, she stood a chance of being free—for good.
He pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her. “It has to be this way. Men like Juan Carlos… You know they won’t stop. Especially if Mateo told his father you’re carrying his child. In their eyes, that makes you their property.” Pressing a kiss on top of her head, he brushed several loose strands of hair from her cheek. “I’ll keep you safe, Mari. We’ll figure out a plan.”
“The two of us aren’t enough to take them on.” She curled her fingers around his shoulder and leaned back so that she could look at him. “What are we going to do?”
“No, we’ll get help. But first we eat, get enough to drink, then travel through the streams to save our strength. When we make it out of the jungle, we’ll put our plan into action.” He stroked the side of her face with his palm. “We’re going to take their legs out from under them first.”
With furrowed brows, she shook her head. “Take me out?”
“No. That’s sort of defeating my vow to protect you, isn’t
it? We’re attacking their livelihood first.” A shit-eating grin curved along his mouth, and she laughed.
Game on.
Chapter 19
Mari
Chris and Mari took the time for a short nap. They’d need it with the distance Chris wanted to cover. They were going to try to double their pace, which would mean very little rest and grueling hours in the heat. For the time being, he wanted her to take it easy, and for her to regain her strength. She brushed at a mosquito that landed on her arm. The little buggers only momentarily distracted her.
As he played with her hair, watching over her, she let sleep claim her, chasing on the coattails of her anxiety. Soon, she’d be ready to fight by his side. That part didn’t scare her. Getting captured, or Chris being injured or killed, did.
With each gentle tug on her braid, she let herself relax further. Even so, the problems they faced were never far from her mind, and the last time she’d seen Mateo danced through her memory.
Her fingers had smoothed the shirt she’d just folded in her aunt’s store. In the small apartment above the shop, her aunt fitfully slept. With a few hours to spare, Mari had decided to work in the boutique. The bell above the door jingled, Mateo came in, and her stomach clenched with tension.
“I know your aunt told you that I’ve been looking for you. I would have expected better from you.” Mateo gripped her upper arm and pulled her close. “Next time I request your presence, you’ll respond immediately.” His free hand gripped her chin and forced her to meet his gaze. “You were always to be mine. From the first time we spoke all those years ago, I knew it. I told you then you’d be my wife someday—that day has come.”
That was what Aunt Linda was trying to warn me about. “We were children, Mateo.” Her skin crawled from his touch. “Let me go.”
A slow smile spread across his face, sending chills racing along her spine. “No, Mari. That’s one thing I will never do.” His mouth crashed over hers in a too-rough kiss.
It wasn’t her first from him, but it damn well would be the last. Her gut churned with anger, and she shoved his chest with the flat of her palm. Bile clawed its way up her throat. The smell of him and his touch made her ill. When he pulled away, she fought against touching her bruised lips. “I won’t marry you.”
“It’s funny that you think you have a choice.” He dropped his hold on her arm and strolled around her aunt’s shop. “Since I’ve always been generous where you’re concerned, I’m going to give you an early engagement gift. I’ll postpone our wedding so that you can bury your aunt. From what I’ve seen of her, it won’t be long. After, you’ll come to me freely.”
“No.”
In what seemed like slow motion, he turned to face her once again. His brows arched high on his forehead, and his eyes flashed with menace. “You’d rather we’re married now? That can be arranged.”
She clamped her lips together, not trusting herself. There were so many things she wanted to scream at him, but what she needed most was time.
“Mari.” Her body shook, and she jolted back to the present, momentarily fighting the arms that embraced her. “Babe, I’ve got you. Take it easy.” Chris held her cradled against his solid chest as he walked them over to where they’d stashed the canoe.
The foreboding in her mind dissipated some, and she dropped her head against him, savoring that small moment. Too soon, he would release her, and they’d be on their way again. Her fingers grazed across his chest to rest against the strap of her pack, which he’d slung over his shoulder along with his. While the jungle fought against them, sapping her strength and tossing dangerous wildlife in her path, he seemed relatively unfazed.
She was native to this harsh land, and thought it should be the other way around. He should be exhausted and worried about going back through the jungle.
Chris deposited her in the canoe, dropped their packs in, and shoved them off and into the small channel. She bent and rummaged in her pack for her canteen. Her fingers closed around it, and she pulled it out. As she unscrewed the cap, she kept her face turned away from him, unwilling to let him see the mental exhaustion and deep fear that had taken root inside her. They were so close. Even though she understood with every fiber of her being that Mateo wouldn’t give her up, even if she escaped to the States, she fought the urge to scream and throw her canteen, or drop her head in her hands and sob. But that wasn’t everything at stake. She was going to lose everything. I’ll lose Chris’s trust. Him. Soon, he’d find out about her lie.
Giving in to dramatics wouldn’t do her any good. She needed to shove her worry aside and be present, especially with all they were up against. The sound of the paddle breaking the water, the canoe slicing through it, and the reassuring calls of animals helped her gain a modicum of control. Then, she made the mistake of looking at Chris.
“You’re unusually quiet. Is there something else that’s bothering you, Mari?”
“Aside from the trek back through the jungle and facing the Ramirez cartel?” In a deft move, she twisted her long hair into a bun and secured it. The air left her lungs in a rush, and she faced him, her fears bare to his view. Her shoulder lifted in a shrug before she let it drop. “Obviously capture, torture, and death are a terrible possibility. But, that’s not everything.”
He frowned.
Shifting, she gazed at the spidery vegetation as it grasped for their canoe. “There is more. We were so close to making it out of here. This place keeps sucking me back in. I’m afraid I’ll never escape and that you’ll leave me. Or you’ll realize you don’t love me and I was a mistake. One you can easily brush aside before you go back to the States.” With a gulp, she faced him again and rushed out another truth. “I’m afraid something will tear us apart.”
Chapter 20
Mari
Mari stretched in her hammock and blinked the sleep from her eyes. The sky, still dark, had begun to lighten a fraction. Brilliant rays of orange and yellow glowed against indigo blue. She shifted in her bed. The pressure in her bladder had woken her before Chris. Soon he’d be up and they’d be on their way. Again.
She and Chris had tried to sleep together in one hammock, but as usual, it was too damn hot and they were bathed in sweat. It was nice, though, and she wished she could curl up against him all the time. He was addictive.
With care, she shifted and let her legs dangle over the edge of the bed. Chris stirred as she stepped out—an eyelid popped open, and he grunted. She whispered, “Bathroom,” and he dropped back into sleep.
A step to the left, and she ducked behind a tree. It was still too close. Staying in line with where they camped so she didn’t get turned around in the twilight, she went a little further before she stopped by a clump of plants. She took care of business as fast as she could, stood back up, and then fastened the button on her pants.
Stretching, she started to make her way back until she heard a twig snap. Alert, she palmed one of her knives in one hand. She thanked God that she’d slipped them into the slots in her pants when she woke.
Rather than risk a confrontation on her own, she took a step forward. A hand clamped on her shoulder, squeezing and holding her in place. A growl escaped her throat, and her vision tunneled. Flipping the hold on the knife, she swung her arm back and sank it into the person restraining her.
The blade sliced deep into his thigh, and she pulled it out just as quickly. Twisting, she faced the person head on. She moved her hand fast, in and out, delivering quick stabs at vital points. The man howled.
Another man stepped forward, yelling, “Control her!” Fuck no. That won’t happen. She gripped the blade tighter and thrust it up, making contact with the first aggressor’s stomach.
Blood flowed from all the wounds she’d inflicted. He was no longer a threat. His partner, quickly covering the distance between them, was.
“Chris!” She shouted a warning, just in case there were more. He could be caught unaware.
The injured man raised his arm to strike her, and sh
e fought a laugh. Good luck. Goon Two jerked her over to him, his hand clamping on her raised one, the one that gripped the knife tightly in her palm. The bones in her wrist twisted in agony, and she cried out as he wrenched her to him.
A gunshot sounded, and the pressure on her wrist released. A small hole bloomed in her captor’s forehead. Free from his grip, she stepped back. Goon One received the same treatment, and he crumpled fast, already part of the way there from having lost a ton of blood.
Chris wrapped his arm around her, and she sank back into his body. She’d know him anywhere. The solid feel of him, the aura of competence, confidence, and danger that emanated from him, was ingrained in her psyche. His chin dipped to her shoulder, and he nuzzled her neck.
“Are you okay?” His voice, hoarse from sleep, sent a shiver dancing on her skin.
“Another day, another attack.” She turned to meet his gaze in the early rays of dawn. Determination in the hard glint of his green eyes shot an additional jolt of awareness through her tense muscles.
“Trouble seems to follow you around.” He dropped a few more kisses along her neck, his voice creating a delicious vibration on her skin. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“I’m fine. It wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle.” She shrugged in his hold. “It’s not like they were going to seriously hurt me if they think I’m pregnant—which is stupid, since I’d be showing by now. It’d be their death if they harmed me.”