Eye of the Storm

by Amy McKinley

  Chris bent around the edges of the lean-to and attached a small amount of C4. At the base of the barrels that contained the chemicals, he added more. “Brush the dirt over the plastic so that it’s camouflaged. Be careful not to disrupt the detonators, though.”

  They worked quickly and hid the explosives as best as they could. The sound of vehicles urged them to hurry, and he camouflaged the last of the C4 before he motioned for Mari to run through the crop, following the same path they took to get there.

  The mines would most likely line the perimeter of the fields in order to keep military out. Not only was it the source of the cartel’s money, it also sustained the farmers that worked the land. Even so, he had no qualms about destroying what they would turn into a drug and infiltrate society with. There was no good that would come of leaving the operation intact.

  With a hand on her back, he crouched next to Mari, urging her to hurry. They hunched down and stayed below the top lines of the coca plants as much as possible as they rushed to reach the outer edges before the workers saw them.

  His heart pounded as they cleared the field and surged into the jungle beyond. Banana trees lined the crops, mixed in with a few additional trees and shrubs.

  Mari whirled to face him, her face flushed and panic pulling at her features. “What now? You’re not blowing it up with the farmers in there, are you?”

  He shook his head. “We’ll travel to the next one and set up the explosives there at night. But during the day, I want to understand their work schedule.” He’d already noted the time of day the workers arrived. Padding that time with an hour just in case they began early, he knew when they’d strike. Or they’d hit them at night. That would be safer and easier.

  No matter what, with Juan Carlos’s inner-circle captains closing in on them, the detonations needed to happen soon.

  Chapter 28

  Chris

  In the thick of the forest, Chris and Mari froze as the motor of a vehicle rose above the chirping birds. They weren’t far from the dirt road, and had even been on it for a portion of their journey. Ten minutes later, they arrived at the next coca farm, and they’d taken to the woods rather than risking being seen. The sound of a twig snapping had Chris whirling around.

  Four men with machine guns in hand, converged on them. In typical black garb, complete with black bandanas or ski masks, it was obvious who they were associated with. He shoved Mari behind him and opened fire. Air whooshed beside his ear. A knife struck the man farthest to the left—Mari had thrown it.

  Cold enemy eyes widened in shock. Be afraid. He knew what he looked like when he did that. It used to freak his brother out. A cruel grin stretched across Chris’s mouth with the knowledge of what these men would soon find. Shoving that thought from his mind, he tunneled his focus.

  Bullets peppered the space around them, displacing the air and kicking up dirt by their feet. A few of those should have landed. They missed on purpose. Noting the butterfly tattoo on one of the men, he knew Mari would be unharmed, but that didn’t mean she was safe. They had orders to retrieve her alive, but wounded might be acceptable. He was expendable.

  “I want the last one alive,” Chris growled, loudly enough that Mari could hear. He aimed for the man’s legs and fired. The scream that sliced through the air would only bring more men. Their time contracted even more. Mari sank a knife into the man’s gun hand. He fell to his knees and dropped his gun. He reached to pull out his blade, but not before Chris put a bullet through his good hand.

  They rushed him together. Mari went to the others and kicked their weapons away, just in case. As she bent to retrieve her knives, wiping them on the dead men’s clothing, Chris pulled the one from the living man’s wrist and moved it to press against his neck. “What do you know about us?”

  The cartel guy spit at him, and Chris laughed. While he applied enough pressure to break the skin, a few trickles of blood ran down the man’s neck. “That didn’t answer my question. You can start with telling me what you know about us.” He motioned from himself to Mari. “And finish up with what Juan Carlos plans to do.”

  “And Mateo.” Mari growled.

  The cartel guy paused, his anger giving way to confusion. “Mateo’s dead.”

  Mari stumbled behind him. She truly didn’t know. A cold smile of intent spread across Chris’s face. The guy he was interrogating looked as if he was about to piss his pants. He was definitely of a different caliber than the captains.

  During the shootout in town he’d remembered Mateo had died. His relief at her reaction—and her ignorance about Mateo’s death—doubled. There was also no way she was pregnant, given that Mateo had died about six months before. Her stomach was more than flat, and their time in the jungle had made it start to go concave, her hip bones and ribs too prominent for his liking.

  A soft plop told him she’d dropped to the ground. Small puffs of air fell from her mouth behind him, and his tense muscles eased slightly. She would be okay—it had to be relief. He couldn’t spare her a glance while he held the guy at knifepoint.

  Boots scuffled, shifting in the dirt, and Mari’s hand fisted his shirt by his hip. Chris flinched as she dug into his skin. As the pressure increased, he pushed back on her, not letting her shove him aside. He didn’t want her to do something she might regret later.

  Fuck.

  “Move, Chris! I’m free now. We can leave, there’s no reason for them to come after me.” Her voice was shrill, emotion carrying each syllable. “But he’s in my way.”

  “No. We need more information. Juan Carlos is still hunting you.”

  “I’m not pregnant,” she almost shouted. “It’s clear just looking at me.”

  The knife in Mari’s hand flashed, and Chris grabbed her wrist, stopping the downward arc as she tried to end the man’s life. He jerked his gaze to hers and saw wildness swirling in her amber orbs. “Not yet.” With care, he moved her arm to her side and shifted in front of her, effectively blocking the man on the ground. Juan Carlos will kill her if he learns she isn’t pregnant.

  “Hurry up,” she growled.

  Behind him, she paced. Chris clamped his hand around their hostage’s bicep then dragged him to sit against the base of a tree. In fast succession, he stabbed the man in the legs and kicked him when he cried out. “Shut up.” Chris got in his face again. “Stop wasting my time. What’re Juan Carlos’s orders?”

  Pained defiance carved into his hostage’s features, and Chris increased his efforts. “You’ll be useless to them,” he whispered close to the man’s face. He cut off two of the man’s fingers, and his screams filled the air.

  Stillness settled around them, except for their captive’s whimpers. He positioned his knife across the guy’s other hand, a move that he knew would get through to the man. Without his fingers, he couldn’t hold weapons. He cut halfway through, pausing when the man cried, “Wait, I’ll tell you!” in a frantic tone. “Get her. Bring her back.”

  “That’s it?” Chris’s brows rose, and he positioned the knife to plunge into the guy’s stomach next.

  “Yeah, man. He wants the baby unharmed. It’s all that’s left of his son. Now let me go!”

  Chris yanked his gun free then shot him once in the head and twice in the heart. He dragged the guy deeper into the brush, knowing it wasn’t perfect, but they needed to get going.

  He wiped his knife off and motioned for Mari to move with him. They set off at a slow jog—he didn’t want her to overtax herself. They had a good distance to travel until the next farm. In a few miles, they would stop and rest.

  He pushed her, but not once did she complain. Her features were shuttered, masking the emotions he knew would come out sooner or later.

  When it looked like she was about to fall down, he slowed and waved her farther from the road so they could rest for a little while. She dropped down to the ground, lying on her back. Her chest rose and fell as she gasped for breath. He took a canteen from one of their packs and handed it to her. He’d long sin
ce shouldered their gear, not wanting her to have to carry the extra weight. He was used to it.

  Several minutes passed as he waited for Mari to talk to him. It didn’t take much longer. She shoved the loose strands of hair from her face and sat up, hugging her knees with her arms.

  “I don’t even know how to process this. I’ve been running from what Mateo would do to me, the prison he’d force me to live in, and now I find out he’s dead. It’s freeing, really, but I know I’m not entirely safe.”

  Chris met her troubled gaze with a determined one of his own. “No. Not until Juan Carlos has been stopped. We have a few more farms to hit, and then we’ll go after him at his home.”

  Her body shivered when he said that last part, and he understood. Juan Carlos’s home would be heavily guarded. But he was up for the challenge. And while he’d like to stash Mari somewhere safe, he knew she wouldn’t let him.

  “We’re close.” He reached for her and squeezed her arm. This woman was amazing—she hadn’t even blinked at what he’d unleashed on the cartel guy, and he knew she would have done the same or worse herself. “Let’s take care of this next field, set the explosives, and detonate both of them. We’ll camp up high again.” They needed the rest before the shit-storm they were about to face.

  Chapter 29

  Mari

  After they grabbed a couple of hours of sleep—but it wasn’t enough because it never was—Mari kept pace with Chris as they descended yet another tree. Nightfall had come a few hours before, and the sound of workers in the coca field they were watching were long gone. It was the third farm they’d targeted. The number of miles they’d covered was crazy, and her body was furious with her.

  At the base of the tree, a few feet from the farm, she waited for Chris to determine their next moves. Her world had shifted again. Shock sank its teeth into her and refused to let go.

  Mateo is dead.

  In a sense, she was free. Her gaze sought out Chris once more, taking in the strong lines of his back, legs, and broad shoulders. He didn’t know her biggest lie to him—that she wasn’t his wife. It would be for the best if she cut ties and left him. She’d fulfilled her part of the bargain with Hannah.

  The ache that squeezed her heart at the thought of walking away from him stole her breath and kept her rooted to the ground. No. There is no way I can just walk away. Not since I fell for this man. And I have. I love him. For the first time in her life, she’d found someone who made her crazy, melting her with one look, one touch, one kiss.

  It wasn’t fair. She had to tell him and really give him the choice to leave and not to engage further with the Ramirez cartel. Her hand slipped into her pocket, and she touched the dog tags she’d hidden in the tiny zippered hiding spot. He deserved to know.

  “Chris—”

  “Wait a sec, Mari.” He reached behind him, his pack already on his back, and squeezed her hand. “We need to leave now. We’ve got about thirty minutes. It’d be much easier if we can find a Jeep or something.” With a shake of his head, he gave her a lopsided grin, and his sexy dimple on the left side almost made her sigh.

  Well, hell. She’d have to hold her secret a little longer. Relief made her go weak in the knees, and she struggled to keep up with him at first as he led her deeper into the trees. “Where are we going now?”

  “We need to program the detonation at the fourth field then get ourselves moving so we’re in town, closest to accessing the cartel.”

  “My aunt’s place is there.”

  “Perfect. We’ll go there before attacking Juan Carlos’s home. I can contact my team from there, too, if they’re not already close by.”

  “Your team?”

  “My brother and the other guys I work with.” He flashed her a smile. “The timers are set to go off fifteen minutes apart, so that the Ramirezes are scrambling all over. Which means we don’t have a lot of time. We need a vehicle.”

  This was war. Chris wasn’t one to mess around. What really worried her was how they would make it out alive after they laid waste to the Ramirez organization.

  Absently, she twisted her long braid around into a bun at the top of her head. With her hair out of the way, she adjusted the pack that she’d pulled out of his grasp once more. How much C4 does that man have? “Are we setting explosives for every farm around here?”

  “As many as we can.” They continued to go farther from the field they’d set to detonate in about the time it would take them to get to the other one. Her heart thudded against her sternum, and she pushed herself to keep up with his crazy pace. He wanted to strike so many. Fear and excitement battled each other as they neared the first field. Continuing on the same path they’d taken to plant the explosives the first time, she followed and watched him set the timers.

  The barrels of cocaine at the harbor had long since exploded, and she knew they wouldn’t have too many chances to get to Juan Carlos once the fields were destroyed. Part of her knew from the very beginning that her opportunity for escape was slim. Her nerves were strung tightly, but if she was going to die, she wanted to do it by Chris’s side, carving as much of a chunk out of the Ramirez organization as they could.

  He motioned for her to leave, and they raced through the field, taking care to stay in the same line they’d first used, with no deviation and no chance to step on a landmine.

  “Come on, I think I know where we can get a Jeep.” This last farm placed them to the east and closer to the harbor. He backtracked to the port, since this farm was closer. It didn’t take long before the sound of an explosion crashed through the night. The hairs on the back of her neck rose in anticipation of the cartel’s pursuit.

  When they got to the harbor, they squatted down by a forklift and surveyed who patrolled the perimeter. As they counted off the guards, they noted the semi-routines of the men. Chris indicated that she should follow his lead.

  Soft light illuminated the area, and Mari saw the devastation from the bombs Chris had set. Black painted the ground in several areas, and the boat that had held some of the barrels was in shambles. It would be impossible to navigate the water.

  They ran low to the ground, straight for the metal structure they’d climbed the other day. The rickety building was still intact. Pressed against the wall, Chris tried the door and found it unlocked. After he carefully opened it and surveyed the interior for people, they slipped inside. The smell of rotten fruit, dirt and dust, and the tiny scent of iron was the first thing to hit her. Blood.

  Something happened in there, and not too long ago if the smell was any indication. It was just shy of repulsive, but not to the point of decomposition, which would make her gag and want to keep the door propped open.

  A small amount of light pooling on the cement floor from a few well-placed windows near the ceiling gave them a general layout of the building. Garage doors lined one side, along with several larger shapes. Machinery, most likely. At least that’s what they looked like in the small shafts of moonlight.

  She curled her fingers around Chris’s shirt and stayed close. When he stopped, she plowed into his hard body nose-first. She rubbed it and stifled a curse.

  He tucked her to his side, and she almost laughed with relief at what they’d found. An open-top Jeep. Her tired body sagged against him, but then she clambered up, slid over to the passenger seat, and sighed. A quiet chuckle left Chris.

  “Stay here. I’m going to set up a distraction.”

  Mari watched his retreating form, but fatigue won, and she remained in the seat. Fifteen minutes later, he whispered off to her right that he was back. She waited for him to join her, but he went over to the garage door that took up one side of the building and did something with the lock. He pushed the door up, ran back, climbed into the Jeep, and turned over the ignition. Alarmed voices filtered inside, and Chris lurched the vehicle forward and past several men, who opened fire on them. As they increased their speed, Mari held onto the oh-shit bar with white knuckles.

  The popping sound of bullet
s pinged against the Jeep, and Mari pulled her gun out, twisted in her seat, and returned fire. At least she tried, by following the shadows and sounds of the weapons. It was still dark out, and Chris hadn’t turned on the headlights, which gave them a slight advantage. If the lights were on, they would be an even easier target.

  As they passed through the entrance to the harbor, Chris yanked something from his pack, which rested between them. When he got it free and pressed the button, a succession of explosions rocked the air from where they’d just traveled, dulling her hearing.

  They drove until they came to a fork in the road. Chris turned left, which would lead them away from the town they needed to visit, and agitation spiked her blood. “What are you doing? This isn’t the way we need to go.”

  Part of her tried to calm down, but her out-of-control temper eclipsed that attempt. She gripped his forearm, willing him to look at her again.

  The Jeep swerved off the road, and she cried out when they crashed through a clump of branches before skidding to a stop. Chris shut the vehicle off, hopped down, and went around to her side. She glared at him.

  “Are you okay?” He grinned. “We’re ditching the Jeep to point them in a different direction. We’ll walk back to the town. We aren’t far off, but I wanted to throw a tiny misdirection at them.”

  She rolled her eyes and climbed down before yanking her pack from the floor of the vehicle. She fell into step beside him, and her temper cooled, allowing the unease of her secrets to take its place. They would face an insurmountable hurdle next, and she couldn’t go into it without sharing what she knew—what she’d lied about.

  She mulled it over as they passed the next mile in silence. The village they’d take shelter in—the same one that housed her aunt’s shop and upstairs apartment—loomed up ahead.