Cold Day In Hell (27 page)

Marcus cast a questioning glance her direction but said nothing. Instead, he moved out. She caught his gaze, and a band of grief wrapped around her. Worry clouded his gaze. Worry they might die out here. Worry Ty might die, too.

"We turn around after we clean you up." She prayed he wasn't hardheaded like Ty.

He kept moving forward. "I'm going back after I find a safe place to stash you."

"Where's your sense of urgency? He may need us."

"I'm doing what he asked. And you don't know his capabilities like I do." He scowled like she'd insulted him.

"I'm not questioning his ability, but you're not leaving me behind."

"And if you wind up dead? What do I tell Ty? If he didn't kill me, he'd never forgive me."

"Marcus." She took a deep breath to bolster her courage. She was about to broach a forbidden subject. "I can't imagine the pain you went through when you lost your wife. You must've loved her very much. This situation is different, and you can't compare the two."

Ty had warned her that Marcus wouldn't talk about the car accident that had killed his wife. He slowed and glanced over his shoulder. If pain and anger had a picture, it was Marcus.

"Damn right I loved her. My wife died because I wasn't there. Plain and simple, it was my fault." He closed his mouth, and his lips turned into thin hard lines.

"I'm not going to argue whose fault it was. The difference is you loved her. Ty's not in love with me."

"Sure he is. He might not know it yet. You're an idiot if you can't see it."

"Then you understand why I'm going with you."

The rustle of leaves silenced their argument. She moved next to him and pushed a huge frond back a couple of inches. Her heart pounded painfully against her ribs. Two jaguars were leisurely walking away from the water. One paused and looked straight their direction. Disinterested, it joined the other and disappeared into the jungle.

"That was a once-in-a-lifetime sighting for me," Marcus said softly. "The male looked me right in the eyes."

"You're an animal lover."

"Yeah. I lost my dog..."

She waited, but he didn't finish his sentence.

"You said you could use one of these." He handed her a pistol. "Keep it handy."

"We should hurry. The sun's up and the people at the camp are probably awake. Let's wash that blood off and take a look." She stuffed the gun in the back of her jeans.

Marcus shook his head. "First, I need to find an open area and call Nate. I'm sure Jack didn't contact him. Nate can make sure our extraction plan is still in effect."

"There's a good chance you'll have coverage at the watering hole."

They pushed through the opening, and a light breeze cooled her skin. They had to get back to Ty. In her mind, they'd abandoned him. If he died, she'd bear the responsibility.

"Give me a knife. I can clean that up while you're on the phone." His shirt had dried and was stuck to his bloody chest. She slit the hem off her blouse and then tore off a section. Dipping in the cool water, she soaked the material around his cut.

He checked the sat phone for coverage and then made his call. He dropped the bomb about Jack and explained their predicament. His forehead wrinkled while he listened for a minute before he disconnected. Marcus pulled off his shirt.

"It's not deep enough to worry about," he grumbled, but he allowed her to clean his wound.

"You could've used stitches, but it's too late."

He watched for a minute before pulling away. He washed his shirt in the clear pool, and handed her one of the two rifles he carried.

"If I'm not hiding you somewhere, and if you're dumb enough to follow me, we need to go now."

"I'm ready."

The faster they moved, the harder her head pounded. But her heart hurt a heck of a lot worse than her jaw. Jack's blow had been unexpected and painful, but that kind of pain and memories would fade in time. Ty had caused much more damage with words. Damage that couldn't be repaired. Heartbreaking, agonizing and unforgivable damage. He hated her country. Her jungle. It wouldn't have been more devastating if he'd said he hated her.

In a roundabout way, he had.

Lina and Pablo hadn't forced her out of the country. Hadn't prevented her from coming home. All those years, her promise of revenge had eaten away at her, ruining every relationship and opportunity in her career. Teaching had become a way of hiding. She'd convinced herself that she was needed. In reality, she should've been home. Her fight was here in Colombia. She'd lost her way for a while. 

Thank God, she hadn't blurted out that she loved Ty.

"Is Nate sending help?" She hustled to keep up with Marcus.

"No time. We have to do this ourselves. When we get to the camp, we'll find a tree where you can see everything. Ty will stay outside, and you'll be in position to back us up."

"And I will," she said with determination.

Marcus scratched the stubble on his chin. "Can you whistle?"

"Like a train," she boasted.

"Don't need a train. Need a bird." He trilled a sound a few times. She tried it and failed.

"Do it again, only slowly."

She held her thumb and forefinger in her mouth, positioned her tongue, and tried. On her third attempt, he nodded.

"Close enough. After I find a tree for you, just whistle if you need my attention." He spun and plunged back into the jungle.

Marcus quickly found his stride and pushed through the overgrowth without slowing down. He had to be running on a jolt of adrenaline. They hadn't been gone long, but Ana feared they might be too late.

He stopped so abruptly, she ran into him. He held his finger to his lips, and then motioned her up a tree. When this was over, she was never getting near another one.

This wasn't going to be an easy climb. No way could she shimmy up the trunk to the first branch. Marcus dropped to one knee, twined his fingers together, and nodded.

"Do not, under any circumstances, come down and get yourself killed."

"I won't." Ana shouldered the rifle, checked to make sure the pistol was seated in the back of her jeans, and put her foot on his hand. Without hesitating, he hoisted her high over his head, making her bite back a yelp of surprise.

She grabbed onto the first limb and unceremoniously pulled herself on board. Thank God for muscular men. She lay on her belly, getting her bearings. Sticking to large limbs so as to not shake the leaves and draw attention, she inched her way up, slung a leg over, and found a good vantage spot. A colorful macaw perched on a long narrow branch. It cocked its head as if amused, but didn't fly away.

The camp was dead quiet. She slowly scanned, looking for Ty with no luck.

A door opened and then closed. One of the few remaining campers was stirring. Jack stumbled out of the hut and hurried toward an outhouse. Her nerves went on full alert.

She looked down to inform Marcus.

Marcus was gone. He didn't know her. After she got a good look around, if she could help Ty by being on the ground, she'd come down in a flash.

****

Jack rushed past the two gate guards. He surprised Ty by not noticing they both were already explaining the sins of their ways to a higher power.

He watched from inside the hut housing the four dead men. He stepped outside when the door to the outhouse thumped closed. He'd never had the opportunity to turn one over as a kid, and the thought of Jack covered in crap brought a smile to his face. It disappeared when a shadow caught his eye. No one else had come out of the hut.

Ty eased outside, hugging the exterior of the building. The figure slipped behind the outhouse. Son of a bitch. Marcus.

Talk about an escalating heart rhythm. Ty's thumped against his rib cage like a bass drum in a marching band. Where was Ana? If she got hurt...no, he pushed that unfinished thought from his mind.

He'd take care of Jack first. He'd never had to kill a female, but he accepted the fact that the old woman might not give him a choice. He remembered the cold evil in her eyes when she'd slashed Marcus's chest. She'd enjoyed it, and Ty wouldn't hesitate to end her if necessary.

Bottom line, he and Marcus would be waiting on Ortega and his entourage.

Ty walked around back of the outhouse. He made no effort to hide. Marcus stepped into the open from behind a tree. He nodded and waved his arm in the "after you" style. It was good to have his old friend with him. They worked better now than they had years ago on the football field.

They stood, one on either side of the outhouse door, and waited. Jack emerged still fastening his pants, oblivious that he had company. He took a couple of steps, and Ty tapped him on the shoulder.

Jack whirled, fumbling for his gun. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. A flash went through Ty's memory, taking no more than a second. Jack's betrayal, Ana's beautiful bruised face, and Lina's and Pablo's half-eaten bodies filled his mind.

Keeping his voice low, Ty whispered as the knife broke through Jack's diaphragm, "This isn't for being a traitor. It's for hitting Ana." He killed Jack with extreme prejudice.

Marcus caught the body under the arms and dragged it into the jungle out of sight.

Damn, Ty wanted to ask where Ana was stashed. He didn't. He couldn't let fear for her safety creep into his head. Not right now. There was too much left to be done. Afterward, Marcus would take him to her, and they'd all go to America.

Marcus returned. He held his hand behind his ear.

Ty nodded. He'd heard the vehicle coming, too.

Time to split up and escalate the attack.

He motioned Marcus to head around back of the main hut. They split up, moving low and fast, getting out of sight before the woman came outside. Unsure if anyone else was inside, Ty positioned himself to the side. He didn't think she'd shared the hut with anyone other than Jack but couldn't take the chance.

The crunch of tires grew louder until two black SUVs came into view. A door popped open before the vehicle came to a full stop. A heavily armed bodyguard emerged. A stream of curse words silenced the noisy jungle. He cursed and ranted at the two dead guards, questioning their heritage and demanding an explanation for them not standing and snapping to attention when the boss' car came into view.

"
Santa Madre de Dios, están muerto
," the bodyguard announced. His eyes darted around the area, looking for who'd left the two dead men posed.

Both cars emptied, making a total of six in Ortega's entourage.

A door slammed. The barrage of words stopped and everyone turned toward the SUV. Dressed in khaki pants and a pullover, Ortega could've been carrying golf clubs. For all practical purposes, he looked normal except for his expression. His cold, lifeless eyes swept the area. His eyebrows were knotted and lips formed a grim line.

The woman emerged from the hut, an AK-47 draped over her arm. She and Ortega exchanged words, speaking too fast for Ty to follow.

He didn't have to be fluent to understand that finding two men dead had thoroughly pissed off Ortega. Jack's name was bandied around. Were they blaming him for this? With his body out of sight, their attention focused on him.

No one had yet thought to check to see if the prisoners were still in the hole.

Ortega had a reputation for constant calm, but he seemed to be unraveling. Rage on the enemy's part was a good thing. It made them careless. From the few cuss words Ty could decipher, it was clear the old woman was not Ortega's mama. Nobody called their birth mother those names.

Ty was getting tired of holding back. Stepping out into the open and firing was too dangerous. He'd wait until Ortega and his entourage moved into the open area of the compound.

The woman directed the first man out of the car to wake the lazy guards and kick them out of the hut. Then she dispatched the driver to drag
los captivos
into the compound.

Ty had news for her. The captives weren't in the mud hut.

The driver shouted the hole was empty at the same time the other man announced he'd found four dead men.

Ortega ran to the small airhole and peered inside. He raised his head and started snapping out orders double time. Ty understood a few words, but the rest was unintelligible.

Ortega pointed his finger at the door, which stood slightly ajar and off its hinges. One guard responded and ran to the hut that housed the four dead men. He jerked open the door, shouting for the men to hurry. He stormed inside, only to scream like a banshee, and return with the news of what he'd seen.

Ty took a quick count. He and Marcus had six guards, one driver, an old woman, and Ortega to deal with. The tension in Ty's shoulders eased.

The group had moved into the open. Time to end this. Marcus would join him the second Ty entered the clearing. Turning the female over to the law would be preferred, but if his guess was right, she'd die before surrendering.

Everyone stopped when a high-pitched trill filled the air. What the hell kind of bird was that? It must be dying.

The sound of a second vehicle ended his questioning.

A white car stopped, and Ortega's son got out. He opened the back door and out bounded the black and brown dog. The animal sniffed, lifted its leg and pissed on the tire. The kid yanked on the spiked leash, and the dog whined in pain.

What the fuck? Ty looked up toward the heavens. At no time in his life had he thought he might have to kill a woman, child or animal. This op had been a cluster since the beginning.

How old was this kid? Ty guessed somewhere close to eighteen. There was no baby fat or childlike innocence about him. In fact, the boy's eyes matched his father's. He strode to his dad as if he owned the joint, his steps deliberate and arrogant. They exchanged a few words, and the boy smiled. He leaned down and whispered something to the dog. The animal morphed into a snarling mass of teeth, salivating and pulling at the end of the short leash as if the spikes weren't biting into his flesh.

This couldn't be good.

A quick snap and the dog was running straight at the old woman. He'd attacked and knocked her flat on her back before she'd realized what was happening. Apparently, failing was frowned upon in the Ortega camp.