Eye of the Storm Page 14

  Interesting. The paddle slipped in the water, continuing to propel them forward, even though his body stilled in preparation for pushing her to gain the answers he sought. “Not working, Mari. You know exactly why, don’t you?”

  A stricken look flashed across her features, so fast he would have missed it if he hadn’t been studying her reaction. “Pretty sure we’ve talked about this. We already know the guerrillas are on to us, so why not the captains? They could’ve been in the camp and gotten identical information as the rest of the guerrillas,” she snapped at him, anger coloring her cheeks.

  “That may be so, but that’s not what I heard when I snuck into camp.”

  She visibly paled before him. “Cartel members were there?”

  “No. They were talking about you, specifically. So, Mari, what secrets are you keeping?”

  She spit a slew of Spanish, and anger deepened the color staining her cheeks.

  His instincts told him that whatever she was withholding was a threat. “You can hide behind anger all you want. There’s something you’re keeping from me, and with the commotion you’re raising, we’ll have company very soon.”

  She blanched, falling immediately silent. Narrowing her gaze, she swept the tree line on either side of them, and behind. He did the same.

  They saw them at the same time. Two men cleared the bush, one trailing slightly behind, making a path toward Mari. They were too focused. Shit!

  The men fired shots, all aimed at him. Dropping back, he fell into the canoe as the bullets flew by. One tore into the fibers of his shirt. Damn, that was close.

  Mari stood, her body tense and her arm back. She let her knife fly at the exact moment Chris extended his hand and pointed his gun at them. He sat up then put a bullet through the forehead of the other guerrilla, whose gun was partially raised. It slipped from his grasp and dropped to the ground as he fell forward and face-planted into the narrow stream. The other man gurgled, the blade protruding from his throat. Mari leapt from the boat, jerked the knife from his neck, and whipped it along his tan camouflage pants as he crumbled before her. His fate mirrored his partner’s. She raced back to the water and hopped in the canoe, the blade gripped tightly in her hand.

  Damn, she’s hot. In silence, they continued up the stream. She wasn’t off the hook yet, but he’d let it go for now. They had been arguing too loudly. They had to learn from their mistake and be more careful.

  “We’ve got about an hour until we near the mountains. Then, we’ve got to ditch the canoe and walk the rest of the way.” He peered at her leg, but it looked good. She would be okay.

  Shoulders drooping, she gave a quick nod, her gaze never leaving the dense foliage that flanked their path. They traveled in silence, his muscles flexing as he propelled them further along their watery path.

  Movement caught their attention in the thicket of bushes just before the bend in the steam. “Mari, wait here please,” Chris commanded as he cautiously set the paddle down and sprang from his perch. He covered the ground in a low dash then lunged at three men who’d neared their path. They wore black and resembled one another in look, in carriage, in association. Each had a machine gun strapped to his body and a pistol in hand. They were drug traffickers. No doubt about it.

  As the closest one lifted his gun, Chris slammed the butt of his weapon into his forehead. The man crumpled at his feet. A knife stuck out of the second man’s throat, and he grinned at the cause. Mari. The third’s trigger finger was already depressed, and bullets sprayed. Chris leapt to the side, and a bullet narrowly missed his bicep as he returned fire. Head, heart, and gut. His target dropped while the gun continued to discharge. Kicking it away, Chris then looked behind him. Mari popped up from the side of the canoe, her arm back, ready to launch another knife. When she saw him standing there, whole, she visibly relaxed.

  He shook his head as he bent to lift the man he knocked unconscious over his shoulder. They needed this guy alive—for now. Mari had jammed their transportation at an angle, lodging it diagonally between both banks. It wouldn’t go anywhere until he shoved it free. He dropped his load into their canoe then settled on his seat and picked up the paddle. They needed to hurry. Reinforcements would’ve heard the gunshots.

  He braced his feet widely in the canoe and heaved them forward with the paddle. “Tie him up. Make sure it’s tight.”

  She scurried to do as he said. She removed the unconscious man’s weapons and made sure they were well out of his reach before she tore one of the shirts that’d been in her pack and set about securing his ankles and wrists. She covered his mouth with a strip, too, so he didn’t shout to draw attention when he regained consciousness.

  Without sparing him another glance, Chris increased his rowing efforts, and they sped along the waterway. Mari leaned close. Canteen in hand, she pressed it to his lips.

  He’d caught sight of a tattoo on all three of the men’s hands—a sharp-angled blue butterfly. It’d immediately registered in his brain. Flashes from his past flipped like a series of pictures in his mind. There was a conference room with a group of men, including his brother and him, around the table. The memories were fragmented and over in seconds, but told him enough. They’d had dealings with this cartel before. He knew it had affected someone close to him. He’d remember—he was confident in that. The thing that struck him was the sense that this cartel had unfinished business with those he cared for.

  “It’s been too long since either of us has had anything to drink. I added some of the powdered electrolytes to the water.” Her words pulled him from his thoughts, and he complied by accepting the canteen from her.

  She was right, they had to stay hydrated, alert. He sucked it down, leaving half for her. It tasted like Kool-Aid. She pressed the canteen’s opening against her lips, and he followed the movement of her throat as she swallowed.

  As Mari started to sit back down, she kicked at the man at her feet. “What are we doing with him?” Anger swirled in her eyes, along with something else—fear? Her features were pulled tight as she glared at Chris.

  “Is this the secret you’re keeping?” Tension formed between Chris’s shoulders. “Do you know them personally?”

  Dread and fear rolled across Mari’s face, and the play of emotions didn’t go unnoticed by Chris. “Why do you say that?” she snapped. “We should just dump him overboard. He’s an unnecessary risk.”

  When uncomfortable or hiding something, she reacted with anger. It wouldn’t work this time. He could play this game. Silence stretched between them, and his gaze never left hers. As the seconds ticked by, he watched as her mind turned, discarding each excuse before it reached her lips. It had to be what she’d been keeping from him—this group of men knew something he didn’t.

  First, the guerrillas were after her. That he could understand, as she’d killed one of their own, and they most likely knew about it. Then he learned the cartel was involved, and some of them showed up. He repressed the flash of rage at the thought of either of those factions after her. Something wasn’t adding up. Sure, there were drug traffickers who ran through the jungle on a regular basis, but there was a deliberate method to their formation, their search, and their lack of immediate fire at her—also confirmed by what he’d overheard. It all stood out to him, plain as day.

  “Look.” She dropped her head into her hands and groaned. “The Ramirez cartel is here because of me. They’re here to take me back. It threw me when I saw that.” She pointed to the man’s hand. “He’s one of the captains.”

  Shit, that’s what the tattoos mean. “Why do they specifically want to bring you back?”

  “I don’t really understand why I’m so important. One of their members has a thing for me. It’s stupid.” She scrubbed her face then lifted tormented eyes to his.

  “Do you care for him as well?” His voice dripped icicles, even though he knew he had no ground to stand on. If she’d indeed felt abandoned by him, she could have gone to another. She’d been a woman stranded and in a d
ifficult situation, and he didn’t really have any right to judge her, especially when he only had bits and pieces of his past. More would come, he hoped.

  “Oh, God. No way. I knew I’d have to leave as soon as my aunt was placed into the ground. He’d come for me. He’s very powerful. You don’t tell him no, not ever. The only reason he hadn’t followed through with his promise—threat—was because he knew Aunt Linda was dying. I had a stay of execution.”

  Her haunted face tilted up toward him, and he pressed his lips together. He longed to take her in his arms. Getting them to safety came first. And where there were some cartel members, there would be more. He pushed them faster down the stream, hoping they weren’t headed for a trap.

  “We’ll travel a few more miles. Then, we’re going to stop and question him.” Chris held her attention for a moment longer. Fear for her made him lash out. “And by ‘we,’ I mean me. You’ll stay back, out of his reach. Let me do this.”

  Annoyance flashed over her face, and her eyes narrowed dangerously. But she nodded once then turned around to look out for a trap. I’ll pay for that. No doubt.

  They kept going for four more miles before they found a secluded spot to pull over. The vegetation was relatively thick, and there was a natural place to stash their canoe.

  Chris slung their prisoner over his shoulder and trudged behind Mari as she settled a ways from the stream, between clusters of trees and bushes. With a thud, Chris dropped the man to the ground, and Mari backed up enough that he could do his thing.

  Chris slapped the man repeatedly on each cheek until he lifted his lids to expose his groggy, unfocused gaze. When the fog slipped further, the cartel member jerked back as much as he could.

  Chris pressed a knife to the man’s throat then slid his other hand behind the gag and tugged. He allowed the ruthlessness he kept in check to show on his face as he leaned forward, sneering as he spoke his next words. “I have a few questions that you’re going to answer. Do you plan to cooperate, or should I make my point clear first?”

  The man struggled beneath him, muffled Spanish curses leaving his mouth as his eyes hardened with cold determination.

  So, he’s not going to cooperate. Chris chuckled, and the sound was dark and disturbing even to his own ears.

  Mari turned and did a sweep of the area before moving back to the canoe. She would keep watch, and Chris would extract the information they needed. She jammed the paddle into the riverbed to hold their position.

  Not far from her, Chris brought the tip of the knife against the man’s throat, and his eyes went wide. “Who, specifically, is after her?” Blood trickled down the man’s neck, and his mouth opened partially.

  Their hostage smirked and mumbled in heavily accented English. “She knows who.”

  In a quick move, Chris withdrew the knife, stabbed him in the leg, and twisted the blade, his hand automatically covering the hostage’s mouth as he jerked the blade out. The muffled scream lasted several seconds. Beads of perspiration dotted the man’s forehead, and panic swirled in his dark eyes.

  Chris removed the knife and pressed it to the man’s side. Applying pressure, he leaned further over the man. “Not what I asked.” The blade slipped through the man’s clothes to inch into his side, in slow and agonizing increments.

  Gasping, the captain clamped his lips together.

  “I see this is going to take a while longer.” He pushed the blade in another inch or two. “I’m aiming for your kidney, if you hadn’t already guessed. Time’s ticking. Better talk.” He worked the captain over, alternating where he slid the sharp blade in. Cut after cut, the captain held his tongue. It wasn’t until Chris began relieving him of his fingers that his weak, raspy voice gave up something worthwhile. “Juan Carlos.”

  Chris’s hand stilled, and rage filled him. Why, he couldn’t really say, but the reaction was there—bitterness coated his mind at the familiar name. The memory would come. Either way, he knew it meant something very bad. “And why is it so important that Mari is returned to him?”

  The captain laughed. Blood bubbled and leaked from the corner of his mouth. Chris smiled at him with a dark, sinister grin that instantly caused the captain’s laughter to die a quick death. “Wants…” Raspy, labored words whispered from his bloodstained lips. “His legacy—baby she’s carrying.”

  Chris whipped the knife out and shoved it back at his throat, increasing the trickle of blood. “What are you talking about?”

  A weak finger lifted and pointed to Mari, and the sneer that flitted across the captain’s face was eerie in its intent. “Engaged.” The captain laughed, choking on his blood to the point where he couldn’t take another breath. Fury filled Chris’s veins, and in one swipe, he severed the dying man’s carotid artery. Lifting the captain, Chris tossed him into the stream. The crocs would finish him off, drawn to him by his blood trailing in the water.

  Turning back, he caught Mari’s stunned gaze with a furious one of his own. “What the fuck was he talking about?” He took the paddle from her hands and pushed them forward in a savage motion. We’re married. That means… “Why would our marriage have been a secret, Mari? Who’s the father—Juan Carlos?”

  “What? Ew… No way.” She scrunched up her nose. Seconds passed until her mouth formed an O. “Dios mio, that crazy asshole. Mateo must have lied to his father. I swear. But… as far as us being married, we were never seen together in Colombia, Chris.” She shifted, breaking eye contact. “Venezuela was where we met, and where we were going to build our life. Things changed. You left. I didn’t think you’d ever come back.”

  Her eyelids closed, shielding him from seeing inside her, but he still noticed the pallor on her tan skin. A sick sense of déjà vu swirled in his gut. He’d had enough of being played to last him a lifetime from just one relationship gone bad.

  “I’m not pregnant.” Her voice was strong and sure. “I last saw Mateo six months ago. I’d be showing if I was.”

  He growled, incapable of anything more.

  “I’m not positive why his father would think that. As for the engagement, I never agreed to it, never said yes, and took off as soon as I could after my aunt passed away. That was all on Mateo.” She scowled. “Saying no to him isn’t something people do. He is a powerful man, and I’m his obsession. I always have been. Still, it was his lie, to himself and apparently to his father.”

  He peered into the depths of her eyes, weighing the statement for truth. It wasn’t the pregnancy part that bothered him, but the idea that she’d strayed from their marriage. She hadn’t said no. She’d traded him for someone with more power and more money.

  The sound of the paddle dipping into the water and the natural cadence of the jungle around them filled the silence that stretched between them. He’d been with another who’d used him, and he’d let her. He’d kept blinders on even though there had been signs. He didn’t allow himself the luxury of ignorance again as he drank in every detail about Mari, every reaction. Her fingers played with the hilt of her throwing knife. Nervous. She does that when she’s angry, defensive, and agitated. Her lips were pinched together, and her color was high. He knew she’d start yelling at any moment with her quick temper.

  Narrowing his eyes, he kept her in his sights while watching for movement out of his peripheral vision. The paddle continued to glide through the water until he switched to the other side, propelling them forward. “Keep your voice down.” He shoved aside his feelings of betrayal and the urge to hunt Mateo and Juan Carlos down and kill them. “Why would Juan Carlos or Mateo think you were pregnant?”

  Her chin notched up, and her eyes flashed in response. “I’m not, especially because I’d have to sleep with Mateo to get that way. That never happened.”

  “Are you telling me that the engagement wasn’t real?”

  Shoulders sagging, she groaned. “I’ve known him since we were children. Back then, we were friends. Somewhat, anyway. He ran wild, and because of who his father was, no one dared to stop him. The fi
rst time we met, I was playing outside my aunt’s store. I don’t know. He seemed drawn to me, and I liked the excitement that surrounded him. It was different than all the other kids, the poverty, the fear.”

  Chris grunted.

  With a wave of her hand, her focus snapped back to his face. “When we first met, Mateo had just met his half-brother, and he was angry. It was a recurring theme for him.”

  “How close were the two of you?”

  “I wasn’t his girlfriend, if that’s what you’re getting at. But he’d staked some sort of claim, and you’d have thought I was, given how boys maintained a safe distance from me. Mateo wasn’t around very much. His father kept him busy, and when he wasn’t with him, he was with his friends and whatever girls hung with them while they club-hopped. The business side, the side where he terrorized people… I didn’t really see that firsthand for some time. Even then, he sort of shielded me from that side of his life.” Mari scrubbed a hand over her face. “When my aunt found out about our weird friendship, she lost her shit. My parents were killed in the street when I was very young. Guess whose family was responsible? More than anything, I wanted to leave Colombia, to make a life somewhere else.” A sad smile curved along her lips. “I almost did, at least for a while, when I lived in Venezuela, until my aunt got cancer.”

  “Mari, you’re avoiding my question. Were you and Mateo engaged? Why would he think you were pregnant?”

  “He told me when we were young that he’d marry me someday. It became clear to me that, because of that confession, he kept his distance for the most part. He wasn’t ready until his brother came back not too long ago with a pregnant wife.” She shook her head. “Mateo was furious. Alejandro was a step ahead of him, and their father was pleased. That enraged Mateo.”

  “Did you want to marry him?” Chris’s temper notched up even more, simmering beneath his controlled demeanor.

  “No,” she snapped in a firm voice. “I’d just come back to take care of my aunt and run her store for her, hoping she’d go into remission. None of that worked out. Mateo stormed in one day and told me I was his fiancée and we’d be married as soon as he settled a problem.” For a moment, she pressed her lips into a firm line as she regained control of her shaky voice. “I buried my aunt and knew I didn’t have long before I had to make a run for it. Before my aunt passed away, a woman came into the store. I recognized the necklace she had—it was impossible not to. I just didn’t know which brother she belonged to. It didn’t matter. I helped her. Eventually I learned she was Alejandro’s wife. Aside from what I did for her, I had my own problems with the family. I knew there would be no going back. So I left.”