Last Spy Standing

Chapter Three

The rumble of the ancient motor drowned out the sounds of the rain forest, but not the strange noises the kid made behind the gag.

“Are you going to keep quiet if I take it off?” Megan glanced over as she drove the geriatric pickup down an uneven dirt road that cut through the jungle.

Zak glared at her and sounded as if he were trying to swear around the cloth.

“Then I’m sorry, but you’re going to stay this way.” Not that she enjoyed making anyone uncomfortable on purpose.

But he could breathe. She was going to save herself from having to listen to more of the threats and the names he’d called her when she’d tried to take out the gag the first time. She wasn’t going to put up with that from some two-bit drug dealer who got on Juarez’s bad side.

She didn’t know who he was and she didn’t care. All she cared about was returning him to the boss and getting that next promotion, the next level of trust that would allow her to accompany Juarez to the meeting at Don Pedro’s hidden stronghold next week.

The logging road she was on was about to end, which meant they would have to hoof it thirty miles south to the next passable road she knew, the one she’d left her ATV on before she cut through the jungle to cut off the kid at the river. She had figured that would be the way he would go if he knew anything.

Unfortunately, she hadn’t found him alone, which had required some quick thinking and cost her a lot of wasted time. Mitch was … Never mind that. She didn’t have all the details and she didn’t need them, not even if he had the most amazing body she’d ever seen and the most dangerous bedroom eyes she could imagine. Juarez’s orders were only for the kid.

She drove to the point where the jungle became impassable, left the pickup and shoved Zak forward on the foot trail ahead. His head was red with fury as he dragged his feet.

She shoved him harder. “I’d prefer if you walked. It’s easier than dragging a dead body over terrain like this. Of course, the boss probably wouldn’t want the whole body.”

She pretended to ponder the point then put a smile on her face. “As long as I take some vital organ that proves you’re dead, it should be enough for him.”

The kid’s eyes went wide. He picked up the pace.

She undid the snaps at her hips and rolled down her pant legs, transforming her shorts to long cargo pants, the bottom of which she tucked into her boots to keep herself safe from bugs and scratches. Then she pulled a light shirt from her backpack, completing her preparations for the jungle. And she did it all on the go, without missing a step.

She kept an eye on their surroundings as they pushed ahead, looking for anything edible, alert to possible danger. “Watch for snakes on or near the trail. And poison frogs.”

Her stomach growled for the meal they’d missed at that guesthouse. The small chunk of bread and goat cheese they’d eaten after crossing the river hadn’t been nearly enough. But she didn’t have time to leave the trail and forage right now. Night would be falling soon, and before that happened, she had to find a place to camp and make a platform that would keep them off the ground while they slept.

Even a raised bed didn’t guarantee that they wouldn’t awake with a snake or a tarantula up their pant leg, but at least it would improve the odds in their favor. Regardless of what she’d threatened the kid with, she intended to take him back to Juarez alive and in one piece.

Which meant they were going to sit the night out. Walking through the jungle after dark was suicide. She wasn’t foolish enough to attempt that. And they both needed rest, anyway. You got tired, you made mistakes.

Then you were no help to anyone.

They walked an hour before she found a good spot, a clearing with bamboo nearby and big-leaf palms that had gathered rainwater she could collect in her safe-filter water bottle. She’d forgotten to fill it at the guesthouse. Okay, not forgotten. But once Mitch had been cuffed to the pipes, it hadn’t seemed too smart to go near the sink.

She wasn’t going to think of the way she’d left him. Naked.

She’d almost dropped her guns when he’d busted out of that bathroom, all muscles and tanned skin.

“Here.” She hung her backpack on a branch and used her short machete to cut enough bamboo for a double bed and enough vines to suspend it. When she was done, she pulled the rag from Zak’s mouth.

“Keep quiet,” she ordered before she showed him what she wanted him to do. “I’d recommend you do a good job. You don’t want to sleep on the ground here, believe me.”

She wasn’t a great fan of the jungle. The past year hadn’t been fun, exactly. But she would have put up with worse to achieve her aim. She scanned the trees and moved toward one that seemed to have potential, all while trying not to think of Mitch—and failing.

“Where are you taking me?” Zak called after her. Dirty and exhausted, he sounded a lot more subdued than when he’d screamed choice obscenities at her earlier.

She ignored that question as she got working on the bay leaf palms locals used for thatching to keep the rain out of their huts. “We need a roof to keep us dry overnight.”

“Why does it rain so much here?” he whined, pulling his shirt away from his neck where the wet clothing had rubbed the skin raw.

She had some salve that would work on that.

“Because it’s a rain forest.” She kept Zak in sight as she worked. When she dragged the palm fronds back, she helped him finish the beds—he hadn’t gotten far—then put the roof on, thatching it as best she could. The sky was already darkening by the time she finished. They had only minutes to start a fire.

She grabbed a dry cotton sock from her backpack and used that as kindling, wondering how far Mitch was behind them. Far enough, hopefully. She hadn’t seen another vehicle at the village.

Getting a fire going in a place that dripped with moisture was quite the trick, but the burning sock dried the bamboo shavings she piled on, and then that caught fire at last. Just in time. The jungle around them was already black. Because of the tall trees, night here was a sudden thing. You’d better hope you were ready for it.

“Here, put this on your neck.” She tossed the small jar of salve to the kid, then tied his left foot to the platform with some vines and one quick hook.

“You can’t do that to me!” He yanked his bonds, his face turning red with outrage. “What if some wild animal attacks us? How do I escape?”

She put more wood on the fire then climbed onto her side of the platform, stashing the guns so they were at hand for her but out of reach for the kid. “If any trouble comes our way, I’ll take care of it.”

He swore viciously, but did it under his breath this time. And he didn’t try to attack her, mindful of her weapons. Good. He wasn’t an all-around idiot then. He seemed to have the ability to learn.

“Where are you taking me?” he asked again.

“Back to the camp.”

“I have money—my father has money—”

She needed sleep. “No.” However much drug money the kid and his family had, there weren’t enough greenbacks in the world to tempt her. Something a lot more important was at stake.

Zak fell into sullen silence. Bugs began their night serenade. A macaw cried somewhere above them in the canopy.

She closed her eyes, ignoring her growling stomach. In the morning, as soon as there was sufficient light, she would find something to eat.

Her dreams were jumbled, and mostly involved Mitch. In some of the dreams, he was naked in her bed. In others, he was trying to kill her.

She woke in the dead of the night to a noise that didn’t fit in with the rest of the sounds of the jungle. Or had she dreamed it? She listened carefully. No. Even the insect chorus was off. Something was disturbing their nightly routine.

Their fire had burned down to embers, providing little visibility. She reached for her weapon as quietly as possible and waited.

She was awake but she hadn’t seen him yet. Mitch crouched in the cover of some bamboo. The smartest thing would be to shoot her right now, but he wanted to know who she was and who she worked for. She intrigued him, he couldn’t deny that. It kept her alive. For now.

“Drop both guns to the ground,” he told her without showing himself.

After a moment of hesitation, she did, then slipped from her shelter, searching the darkness in the direction of his voice. “How did you find us?”

He’d followed the logging road on the polizia man’s motorbike, then tracked their trail through the jungle. “I could smell the smoke of your fire from miles away.”

“I didn’t think you’d be so close behind,” she admitted, then pulled a machete from behind her back and came at him.