Running Wild (21 page)

Dammit, she’d learned young to defend herself against just about anything. But this sympathy thing—

That was a killer.

Through sheer force of will, she got herself under control and surreptitiously blotted her tears against the swell of his pec, counting on the fan of hair growing sleek and black atop it to absorb the wetness leaking over her lower lids. For a second, when he stilled, she feared he’d felt them and would now feel
sorry
for her, a concept so abhorrent her skin literally itched with mortification.

But he merely shifted slightly, causing her cheek to slide closer to the muffled thump of his heart beating strongly beneath the hard, safe haven of his chest. And for a few comforting moments he held her close with no apparent need to say anything at all.

Then he slapped her on the ass and rolled her over onto her side so that she faced away from him. Spooning his long body behind hers, he wrapped his arm around her waist, jerked her back snugly against him and said gruffly, “Get some sleep. I have a feeling tomorrow is going to be a long day.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

“H
OLY
SHIT
.” Finn strode behind Mags on a trail that was all but nonexistent. “It’s hotter ’n hell in here.”

“It’s the humidity,” she said, glancing over her shoulder, and by the sweat dewing her face and throat, he realized she was no more immune to the enervating heat than he was. She’d seemed so in her element since they’d entered the rain forest late this morning that he’d assumed it was just him struggling with the moisture-weighted heat.

There had been humidity all along, but nothing like this.
This
was so palpable he could literally feel it entering his lungs like a viscous gas with every breath he drew.

For the first time since they’d started running from Joaquin, he felt out of his comfort zone—and it wasn’t just the weather. It was being in a place that made him distrust the effectiveness of his long-taken-for-granted skills. “Temperatures tend to stay at around eighty degrees at the equator,” she added, “but the humidity from all the rain in the Amazon jacks the heat index up closer to ninety. I haven’t been here for an age but I still remember how frigid it’d get at night, even though the actual temps are probably only around fifty degrees.” She shot him a wry smile. “I know, no one would call that cozy, but it generally doesn’t feel like the dead of winter, either. As with the heat, the constant damp messes with the line between actual temperatures and what it
feels
like they are.”

Clearly done with that topic, she sketched an infinity in the air with the hiking pole he’d given her. “I know I’ve raved about your awesome pole before—”

He shot her a cocky grin and she gave him a
Seriously—are you for real
? look in return and said, “What are you, fourteen?” Then, as if she were that age herself, color flooded her cheeks. And it had jack all to do with the heat radiating off the rain-forest floor.

He had to hand it to her, though—she forged on as if she were taking high tea with the queen. “As I was saying, your
hiking
pole was awesome before, but it’s particularly handy down here on the forest floor.”

“No shit,” he agreed, and admitted, “The Amazon’s more of a challenge than I expected. I can’t tell north from south or east from west since we got here, and I’ve always had an excellent sense of direction.” The ground was thick with layers of deadfall comprised of downed trees, branches, leaves and a lot of detritus he plain didn’t recognize. The path they’d been following was bouncy yet firm in some places, uneven in others and spongy or flat-out treacherous in yet others. Even only having a pole apiece provided a lot of stability.

“I’ll teach you the way I learned to find north in the Amazon. Meanwhile I’m diggin’ the pole.”

Smiling at her with genuine delight, he admitted cheerfully, “I thought hiking poles were for sissies. My brother David had the first set I saw and the rest of us gave him a rash over it. I think ‘girlie’ might have come up in that conversation.” More likely pussy...but as his ma used to tell him when he was a kid, he really didn’t have to say everything that popped into his mind.

As it was, Mags scooped up a clump of he-couldn’t-say-what and threw it at him.

He dodged the missile handily. “Bren was next to get bit by the HP bug when he bit off more than he could chew on a short hike with too much elevation gain for someone who’d only gotten a clean bill of health three months before. Big Brother went right out the day after we got home and bought his own pair.” He shrugged. “But, c’mon, that’s hardly a definitive vote, right? I mean, the guy had cancer.”

She gave him a knowing look. “So, what made you a believer?”

“I strained a muscle. It wasn’t bad and luckily it was at the tail end of a weeklong backpacking trip, but we were still a long way from the trailhead. David insisted I take his poles. And they were effin’ amazing.” He grinned.

“Thus sending you out to buy your own pair the next day as well.”

“Hell, no,” he said with faux affront. But he couldn’t keep his mouth from crooking up. “I held out damn near an entire week.”

She laughed and set off once again. Twenty minutes later she swore and came to a stop.

He stopped as well. “What’s up?”

“We’ve gone in a circle.” She indicated a leaf that had been bent in half, showcasing its duller underside. Finn looked behind him and saw a noticeable number of similar ones standing out amidst the dense growth of brilliant green and realized she’d been doing that all along. “We need to backtrack to find where the trail branched off.”

They found it about a hundred yards away, a narrow path that angled away from the one they were on and plunged into even deeper woods than those surrounding them now. They likely wouldn’t have spotted it had they not been specifically searching for it.

The good news was that, within fifteen minutes of turning onto the new path, they came across a fast-flowing stream. It turned out to be a twofer since it was on the map the old guy had drawn them last night and it provided a much-needed source of drinking water. The thick, killer humidity had made them even thirstier than usual, but aside from the occasional leaf that had caught a tablespoon or so of pooled rainwater—only the clearest of which they’d dared drink—they hadn’t seen much in the way of a water source since leaving their room this morning. He’d started rationing their portions for fear they’d run through all they’d brought with them and have no way of replenishing their supply.

Finn signaled Mags to hold up. “We need to refill our water containers.”

They killed off the water left in his filtration water bottle, then he took it to the deepest part of the creek and filled it up. Next, he filled his backup storage bottle. “If we need the unfiltered water before we can make camp and boil it, I have some water-purifying pills that are the next best thing.”

He peered up at the light filtering through the profuse, leafy canopy far overhead, then glanced at his watch. It wasn’t yet five o’clock, but he’d read somewhere when he’d researched the area that in the more densely vegetated areas—which they definitely appeared to be in—5 percent or less sunlight made it all the way to the floor of the Amazon. Given how he’d felt as though they were hiking under a green glass dome, he’d say that was true. “And speaking of making camp, you think we oughta start looking for a spot?”

She, too, peered up at the vast canopy. “It’s probably a good idea. I forgot how dim it can get down here.” She glanced at the creek. “We need to hike to a higher place, though, away from the water.”

“You sure? That seems counterintuitive.”

“I know, but it was always the rule the few times I camped out as a kid. Higher ground was best. It had something to do with malaria and typhoid fever. Malaria is caused by mosquitoes, so staying away from stagnant puddles and ponds that are by-products of the creek makes sense. My knowledge is a lot sketchier when it comes to typhoid.”

“Neither of us wants to risk exposure to either disease, though, so camping away from water it is.”

They jumped the creek and climbed an increasingly steep slope on the other side, digging in their poles for balance where necessary and using the more vine-like vegetation to pull themselves up when the poles weren’t enough. Finn carefully tested every patch of ground he managed to clear with the machete they’d picked up last night before he’d let Magdalene attempt it. They arrived at a small plateau just as it began to rain.

Dropping his pack by his feet, he pulled out the tent, separated out its fly and hung it from overhead branches for a shelter while he set up the tent. He squatted beneath the tarp to clear a spot but when he reached out to level the area by sweeping away part of the first stratum with his hands, Mags stopped him.

“Use a stick or your hiking pole to do that,” she said. “Snakes tend to stake out spots beneath or in the lee of downed branches. Add a nest of leaves to that and they think it’s the Four Seasons.”

He managed to suppress a shudder, but
man
, he hated snakes. He hoped to hell she couldn’t tell, because she seemed pretty copacetic with the whole hidden-carnivorous-reptiles thing, and he wasn’t about to admit he was scared of something she wasn’t. “You gotta be the first chick I’ve ever met who can speak neutrally about snakes.”

“I hate the startle factor of them, but if I know they’re there they don’t bother me much. Spiders, now, that’s a whole different story.” She shivered. “Spiders are my kryptonite. Just talking about them gives me goose bumps down to my ankles.”

“Hey, I’ll kill your spiders if you kill my snakes.”

“Deal. I’ll even skin them out and roast them over a fire for dinner.”

He gaped at her. “Tell me you’re just screwing with my head.”

She snorted. “Well,
yeah
.” She let loose a huge belly laugh. “God, you should see your face.” Even as she messed with him, however, he noted the way she bent to give his hair a consoling little stroke.

“I might not be terrified of reptiles,” she continued as she straightened once again, “but I’m sure as heck not getting within touching distance of one. Especially not one of those boas that can pretty much match a pickup for length, headlights to a freaking open tailgate.”

Christ. “
There’s
an image I could have lived without you planting in my brain.”

She just grinned at him and he found himself smiling right back at her.

He was almost finished setting up camp when a troupe of howler monkeys swung through the treetops, heading in their direction. A couple of the smallest scrambled from branch to branch partway down a nearby tree to check them out. They stared silently and Finn pulled his camera out of the pack and zoomed in on them. He snapped a couple photos before one noticed him looking back at them through the viewfinder. The monkey threw back his head and, mouth open wide to display an impressive set of sharp teeth, let loose with the guttural, barking noise that was the breed’s trademark. The other monkey simply stared at them as he placidly chewed a leaf. A few moments later both grew bored and chased off after the adults, who were now several trees ahead of them. Finn put his camera back in the pack and refocused on setting up the remainder of their camp.

Half an hour later, he and Magdalene sat in the tent with their feet outside, eating their newly heated meal and passing a bottle of red back and forth as they took turns drinking directly from it.

“We’re only a day or so from where we think Munoz’s grow farm is,” he said. “We should probably talk about how we intend to spring your folks without getting captured ourselves.” If the place was as tightly secured as he imagined it must be, their chances of actually freeing her parents without getting the Delucas and themselves killed were...well, not real good.

“Yeah,” she agreed gloomily and knocked back another gulp from the neck she’d just wiped with her hand in preparation to sharing it with him. Lowering the bottle, she knuckled her bottom lip, where a drop of wine had nestled, looked at the smear it left on her finger, then licked it away. “Truth is,” she said to her feet, “I’ve been kind of avoiding that.”

Then she turned her head to look him directly in the eye. “Because after dragging you into my mess and coming up with my big plan to bust my parents out of Munoz’s grow farm, I don’t have the first idea how we’re supposed to manage that.”

“We need a diversion.” He gave her a big, feral grin. “And for that we have Joaquin’s gun.”

“Omigawd,” she said faintly. “We’re going in guns—gun—blazing?” Her horrified eyes told him what she thought of that idea.

“Hell, no. The big problem, as I see it, is that Munoz probably has the perimeters of the grow farm rigorously patrolled. That’s what I’d do, have a lot of men out there to make sure no one got in or out. So we’ll watch them until we know what the routine is, then set some traps. If we can thin the ranks without getting caught, we’ll set the traps again, build us the smallest smokeless fire we can get away with. Then, when it’s nice and hot, we’re tossing the J-man’s bullets into it and getting the hell away from the area, because, darlin’ that’s gonna bring soldiers on the double. And while they’re checking out the disturbance we’ll try our damnedest to locate and extricate your folks.”

Mags merely stared at him openmouthed and he shrugged apologetically. “I know,” he said. “It’s a far from awesome plan. But it’s the best I can come up with without more in our arsenal than a handful of bullets, a decent amount of rope, the machete and my two flares, which we’ll also utilize.”

“Oh, God, are you kidding me?” She threw herself in his arms and smacked little soft-lipped kisses all over his face. “At least you have a plan. I had
nothing
.
Nada
—not a single freaking idea in my head. With my skill sets, what was I going to do, give them a makeover?”

“That’s actually part of my plan.”

She blinked, then stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. “Giving them a makeover?”

“No, camouflaging us. Truth is, we won’t know what we’re dealing with until we get there, but don’t you imagine the farm’s likely been reclaimed from the rain forest?”

She nodded. “Makes the most sense.”

“It does, and the better we blend into our surroundings—the forest that hopefully comes right up to it—the safer we’ll be. So, your makeup skills are important. You’ll need to make us one with our surroundings.”