Eye of the Storm Page 4

  They lifted the stretcher one last time. Hannah sloshed into the water to get her end farther up into the canoe before releasing him. He shifted, but at the last second, they heaved him over the edge and he crashed in, his body awkwardly skewed along the bottom of the canoe. The packs were crushed beneath him, but he stayed put on his makeshift bed, so she didn’t worry.

  She scampered into the canoe with their unconscious patient and positioned herself by his head, well out of sight if he regained consciousness. She wasn’t ready for that, or for the discussion that would follow.

  Hannah took the space by his feet after she pushed them off. Once they were as steady as possible, she tried to keep them from capsizing by digging the paddle into the rough water.

  Every now and then, Mari glanced up to check their surroundings, even though it didn’t really matter where they were. Not at the moment. Instead, short, dark hair, spikey lashes that cast shadows on his angular cheeks, and a strong chin compelled her gaze.

  She knew his name was Chris.

  Why he was here, what he was doing, and how he and Hannah knew each other, remained a mystery for the time being.

  Mari’s fingers dug into the side of the wooden canoe in a desperate attempt to stay afloat amidst the rolling river water. Wind punished them. The sky opened up, jagged lightning sliced overhead, and thunder boomed. Heavy rain pounded down on them.

  She stared at his face through the punishing weather and saw one of his eyelids twitch. Trying to make herself as small as possible, she shifted a tiny bit to stay out of his direct line of sight. She wasn’t ready for him to see her. Hannah leaned forward at Mari’s movements, and her focus shifted from the river to Mari before finally falling on Chris.

  His hazel eyes opened and latched onto Hannah. Mari froze as his quick flash of confusion morphed into fury. Peeling his lips back, he roared. He lifted his powerful arms and lunged at Hannah. Mid-grab, his face clouded with disorientation, and he turned green. Vomit erupted from his mouth, and he dropped back from his impromptu rise, falling back into unconsciousness.

  Ew. Mari met Hannah’s grave expression. “What just happened?”

  Hannah’s lips pressed together, but her features remained emotionless. “He’s confused. You saw his eyes. They were dilated from his head wound. Most likely a concussion, like I said before.” She swiveled and scanned the tree line. “We’ll travel a little farther down the river, then I’ll help you get him off of this and to a relatively dry place.”

  A garbled noise came from Chris, and Mari shifted back some more, uncomfortable with his initial reaction. What have I gotten myself into? At least the rain continued to pour down on them, offering a little relief from the heat. As an added benefit, it helped to wash him off.

  Hannah yanked on one of the exposed zippers and pulled a canteen from the closest of the packs. Taking a small funnel, she unscrewed the top, fit the little piece of plastic inside, and attempted to fill it back up with rainwater. Wedging the canteen between her legs, she freed her arms to paddle.

  They moved downriver at a fast pace. Hannah used the paddle only to guide them, not needing to do anything to keep them moving forward—and away from where Mari had been trying to go. “Why are we going so far? It’ll be that much harder to reach the border now.” Unease pressed upon her, slicing through the exhaustion. “Hannah.”

  “We need to put distance between us and where he was. The farther away, the safer.”

  “Why?” What had he gotten himself into?

  “You noticed the parachute, right?” Hannah’s voice dropped a notch. “There were bullet holes in it.” With a careful finger, she pointed to one of the oozing spots by his temple. “This was caused by a bullet. It just grazed him, but we don’t really know if he was hit anywhere else.”

  The water continued to propel them further from where she wanted to go, and Mari had to work to contain her frustration and suspicion. “Was he with you? Were you two working together?”

  With a shake of her head, Hannah clamped her lips tight, making it clear she was done with the conversation. “We’ll stop just around that bend.” She leaned over and dug the stick hard into the riverbed, struggling to turn them from the rush of the water to the edge.

  They shot past the point she’d indicated, but eased closer to where Mari was able to grab a protruding branch. Digging her heels into the wood beneath her, she worked to keep them in place—and herself in the boat. Hannah used the paddle to aid her. Slowly, they got the canoe to the edge.

  Mari kept hold of the branch while Hannah jumped out and landed on the soggy bank. With the rope in hand, Hannah leaned back and hauled them in, guiding the canoe closer and lodging it between mounds of tangled roots. Mari let go of the branch and stepped over the canoe’s edge and into the slick mud. Bending, she tugged the canoe in farther, thoroughly wedging it between the trunk of a submerged tree and the cluster of roots. Hannah tied it up, then they both pulled and yanked until they got Chris off the canoe. Thankfully, he remained on the makeshift stretcher.

  “Stay here. I’m going to look for a good place to rest that’s relatively dry.”

  Mari lifted a shaky hand and almost caressed his cheek. When her sanity returned, she jerked her hand back and clutched her wet fingers together, annoyance rolling through her. What am I doing?

  Not thrilled but lacking the energy to protest, Mari let Hannah go without complaining. Lying in the mud, she waited for her heart rate to subside and for Hannah to return. Time passed both slowly and quickly as she rested, with rain streaming down all around her. Sleep was a few seconds away. Her body relaxed in gradual increments.

  “Found something.”

  Dammit. It felt as though Hannah’s words slapped her awake and violently expelled her from the waiting arms of slumber. “Holy hell. You scared me.” Mari pushed herself up. Thick mud oozed between her fingers, and she went to the river and washed them off. “Is it far?” she asked when she returned.

  “Not too bad. A few feet from here, elevated, and safe if the river floods. Ready?”

  “Yes.” Mari bent, grabbed the ends of the stretcher, and lifted when Hannah counted them from three to one. It didn’t get any easier. It was actually harder, with the ground slipping out from beneath them. Mari took several painful falls to a knee. It took longer than it should have, as they had to move with greater care.

  “Over here.” Hannah nodded to the right, and Mari followed her lead. A limb had fallen from a giant tree and was propped in a partial-teepee fashion against the trunk. The severed limb rested against the tree, its branches and leaves cascading down. The base spanned at least six feet in diameter. Its thick canopy of leaves splayed over the jungle floor in a mound at least as tall as Mari was.

  Hannah led them over to the side where the arc of the limb was highest. A small gap in the branches was their way in. Inside, it was relatively dry, with the thickness of the leaves acting as a roof of sorts. Bending at the same time, they set the man down, and Mari dropped to the ground. Hannah did not. She tugged Chris off the stretcher, just enough to yank one of the packs free. His lower half still rested across the contraption. Reaching inside, she pulled out a rope hammock. “Help me secure this.”

  With great effort, Mari rose and did as Hannah asked. Once the hammock was up and off the ground, they grabbed Chris by the shoulders and legs then struggled to set him in it. It felt like the man weighed a ton, even with Hannah helping her. Once they got him into the hammock, Mari slumped against it, her limbs weak from everything she’d been through that miserable day.

  Hannah bent and yanked another pack off their stretcher, slung it on her back, and in three quick strides, stopped at the spot where they’d entered the hideaway.

  The blood drained from Mari’s face. Hannah was leaving.

  Looking over her shoulder, Hannah caught Mari’s gaze. “Remember the debt. A life for a life.”

  Chapter 5

  Mari

  The sound of rain beat against the leaves in a
heavy staccato, dulling Mari’s senses and drowning out any possible commotion that could be caused by someone closing in on her. Thunder rumbled overhead, and the fine hair along her arms rose. There was a sharp crack, and wood exploded close by—for a full two minutes, Mari froze, her mouth hanging open. Did lightning cause that, or is someone else out there? She leaned against Chris’s arm, his body cradled in the ropes of the hammock, and listened to the noises that surrounded them. What did I agree to, an undetermined amount of time in the jungle? Hannah had left, taken off after binding Mari with a promise to save him. It could work to her advantage, if Chris agreed to help and to protect her. With that thought, she made the decision to do whatever it took to secure his aid.

  Every little noise felt amplified in Mari’s overly sensitized mind. The Darien Gap was no place for a single traveler. She’d thought she could traverse it and had been desperate to—it was the one way out of Colombia where she was sure the cartel wouldn’t have been tasked to search for her. Even her exit from the town of Turbo, across the Gulf of Uraba, and then into the jungle by the Atrato River delta seemed to be the safest. It was a path less traveled than the one edging along the port towns to Panama, where she would surely be found.

  A twig snapped not too far from their shelter, and she cringed. Their camp wasn’t terribly far from a full army of guerrilla soldiers. She began to realize she needed help in the moment the guerrilla soldier had tried to capture her.

  Mari closed her mouth and looked at Chris. Shit.

  For several moments, she warred with herself. She could leave. She doubted she’d run into Hannah again. It’d be fitting to run away, but it would not be in her best interests to wade through this dangerous place alone. She tugged at her dripping-wet shirt. If she did that, she’d be alone against thieves, guerrilla armed forces, and drug traffickers. It’d been so long—months— since she’d had to run and hide on her own… No, I refuse to think of any of that, at least not until he wakes up.

  While her aunt was sick and after she’d died, Mari had been emotionally vulnerable. The shop needed attention and someone to manage it, and she’d done so. It kept her busy. Unfortunately, she’d stayed too long and had crossed paths with the one person who could drastically alter her life. In her state, it’d been easy for him to take advantage of her.

  The clawing loneliness she’d been feeling since her aunt died still churned inside her. It was marginally better being with Hannah, if only to have a woman to talk with, even if they hadn’t exactly hit it off. Part of her didn’t trust the other woman. But out there, she too had to become something she wasn’t. She needed to be tougher, stronger, and willing to do what it took to survive.

  If Hannah hadn’t come along when she had, things would have ended very badly. Suppressing a shudder, Mari shoved the events of the greater part of her day out of her head and turned. She took in the sheer size of Chris. A sense of déjà vu sifted through her at what she’d agreed to do for him. Not too long ago, she’d been in a similar situation with her aunt, trying desperately to nurse her back to health. She’d failed.

  But she’d cared for her aunt and made her comfortable until the end. With Chris, things were different, and she knew that if he would help her then this delay in the jungle would be worth it. As long as she secured his protection, it wouldn’t be a waste of time.

  There was still the chance he could leave, and she’d be left to fend for herself. There was no telling how he’d react, especially with a head injury.

  Doubt stabbed her repeatedly. She’d be at a disadvantage when he woke, when he was well. From his reaction to Hannah, she needed to protect herself just in case. Her gaze travelled over him, and she almost whimpered with relief at what she saw. He had weapons, and she quickly disarmed him, taking several knives and guns then sticking them in sheaths on her clothes or nearby for easy access.

  Sleep called to her. Her body and mind screamed with exhaustion, both threatening to collapse at a moment’s notice. But there were a few things she’d have to do before she could rest.

  Riffling through her bag, she pulled out another hammock and went about setting it up. Sleeping on the ground only begged for trouble. Dropping a mosquito net on her hammock, she drew another from the guerrilla’s pack and secured it over him. Chris’s military bag hung from a sturdy branch inside their camp. She would look in there later.

  She examined his head. The blood still seeped in a thin stream from his wound. That would have to be taken care of before she passed out. Same with their wet clothes—at least their socks. There was no way she was removing his clothes. She pressed her lips into a tight line. Damn you, Hannah.

  There was too much to do, and she had to stay awake for a little while longer. Scanning their shelter, she noticed all the places in between leaves and the branches that peeked through to the jungle beyond and exposed them to danger. She ducked under the canopy opening and went in search of some fallen limbs, thick with leaves. The wind tore at her hair and clothes, and she was able to find many twigs scattered across the uneven ground, not too far from their spot.

  Hauling in a bunch, she made her way back, not worrying about the trail she was creating. The rain would wash away her footprints, and the gusts would scatter any crushed twigs or leaves she’d trampled. She shoved the sticks into the lean-to and worked them in securely, weaving them through the layers of branches, so as not to look obvious.

  She stepped back and looked over her handiwork with a critical eye. It would do, so long as the wind didn’t tear it apart. It was a huge and very full bough that’d fallen to create their shelter, so she was hopeful.

  The next item that needed her immediate attention before she passed out was Chris. She dropped down next to him. For several seconds, her gaze roved restlessly over his imposing form. Even unconscious, he filled their small space to a point that made heart pound. If he exudes this much presence and power in the state he’s in, what will it be like when he opens his eyes and fixes them on me?

  Strong shoulders, stacked with muscle, tapered to a trim waist. His legs were long and toned, like the athletes she’d glimpsed on the rare occasions when she and her friends had watched sporting events. Her blood heated as the pads of her fingers tentatively brushed over his forehead. His carnal looks affected her more than she’d care to admit. He had a strong jaw, prominent cheekbones, and kissable lips… Her fingers tingled where their skin came into contact. She yanked her hand back and took a steadying breath.

  Hannah had said he was her ticket out of the jungle and to safety. The enormity of her situation weighed heavily on her shoulders, and a flash of animosity for needing to rely on him burned inside of her. I have to. It’s life or death, and I choose life.

  He was a mess. Blood was caked down the side of his face. With a sigh, Mari moved to one of the packs and rummaged around until she found the medical supplies. For the time being, she’d honor her stupid promise. She knew she couldn’t leave him like this, anyway, promise or not.

  She opened the kit and looked through the contents. Nestled inside were bandages, alcohol wipes, a vial of antibiotics, several pain pills, and a few syringes. Carefully, she read the labels. Starting with the wipes, she worked at the blood on his face. The rain had washed most of it and the camouflage paint away, but the gashes needed to be scrubbed. Thank God he was knocked out, because it had to hurt like hell. With a wadded-up piece of gauze, she scraped deep in the cut, working to make sure no fly larvae lay inside. She doused it with an antiseptic then patted it as dry as she could before slathering on an antibiotic salve. She covered the wounds with bandages and pulled out an antibiotic shot she would give him after she finished her inspection.

  She noted his lack of dog tags and remembered her reckless move from earlier, when she had slipped them off him and shoved them deep in one of her pockets, which held a tiny zipper. There they would stay. She’d sewn in two hidden pouches before she’d left on her journey, small enough that they wouldn’t be detected, but big enough to carry
money—and the military identification tags. Their meaning didn’t sit well with her. Nothing good had come to her from anyone in authority, family aside. Those she’d come across with power in her life abused it. And her.

  Wind howled outside, and a loud crash made her body seize up in fear. It had to be a branch breaking somewhere, not a person crashing through the jungle to drag her back to where she’d run away from. As time ticked by, she relaxed in slow degrees. Shoving aside her worry, she focused again on Chris.

  They’d cut the parachute harness from his body, but she still needed to check for other injuries. With shaking hands, she unbuttoned his coat, deciding to work it off him to hang, hoping it would dry. The heavy rain was mostly blocked by the leaves overhead and around them.

  She struggled to pull him up, her arms and stomach muscles burning in the process, and leaned his dead weight against her chest as she got the jacket off. Before laying him back, she pulled the back of his olive-green T-shirt up and checked his bruised back for bullet holes or gashes. Her fingers skimmed him, feeling, as she couldn’t really see past his bulk. Broad, muscular shoulders dwarfed her. Everywhere she touched was toned and corded muscle. She had to push aside her concern over his build and trust in what Hannah had told her. Even with Hannah’s assurances, he could turn on her, and she’d be at a severe disadvantage. She’d been there before, and the fear of returning to that place terrified her. He was an enigma.

  It’ll be okay. I’ll make it out, safe and alive.