Amazon Burning (A James Acton Thriller, #10) (5 page)

“So do
we,” she said, raising her finger to get Fabricio’s attention.

“Yes,
senhora?”

“First
thing in the morning we’ll head back rather than continue on.” She smiled. “And
don’t worry, you’ll still get paid for the full journey.”

The man
beamed as he began to strum again. “Thank you, senhora!” He relayed the news to
the crew in Portuguese and smiles abounded as the men realized they’d get at
least an extra day’s pay for no work. If everything continued to go well, the
tip she intended to lay on each of them would make their year.

“Bed
time?” suggested James, to which Reading grunted his wholehearted agreement,
immediately struggling to his feet with some windmilling of his arms that had
Laura concerned for a few moments. Balanced, their friend said his goodnights
and climbed into his tent, bitching and moaning the entire time until he was
finally settled.

James
stood and pulled her to her feet. “Goodnight, everyone!” she said, smiling to
the crew who all chimed in goodheartedly.

“Don’t
go to bed early on our account!” added James. There was some laughter as Fabricio
translated. Laura unzipped the tent and climbed in, James directly behind her
who zipped it up immediately and began a critter inspection with his flashlight.
“All clear!”

She
quickly changed, careful to have the light in front of her so her silhouette
wouldn’t provide a show to the crew, James the only one getting to enjoy the
view, which from the grin on his face he certainly seemed to be.

“See
something you like?” she asked as her eyes drifted down. A bulge in his shorts
was the response.

He
stripped out of his clothes and turned the light off as he embraced her. His
hands explored her body as hers did his, a growing urgency in his demands
sending her heart racing as he ground into her, revealing just how turned on he
was. Their tongues tasted each other, exploring the other’s mouth as her moans
grew in intensity and she felt her own furnace of desire blaze with an
intensity only James could produce.

He
lowered her to the ground, their sleeping bag providing a little bit of
comfort, but she didn’t care. She wanted him, she needed him, and as she
stifled her moans by locking onto his mouth even harder, she could care less
about the crew twenty feet away still singing, or Hugh in the next tent already
snoring.

All she
wanted was James inside her, right here, right now.

She
groaned when he obliged, her bliss only beginning.

Jealousy raged through Tuk’s heart as he heard the moans not ten
paces away. At the shore the dark men continued to sing, something being passed
around now that looked like it held some sort of liquid, the jar unlike
anything he had ever seen. In the firelight it was as if you could see through
the clay, but he was certain it was simply his eyes playing tricks on him.

A jar
made of water!

It was
folly.

But he
paid them little mind. It was the Woman of Light that he cared about, and that
man who was clearly her mate was now making love to the woman who was the
solution to his problems.

He didn’t
care though. Once his plan was complete, the man would be gone, never to bother
them again, and he alone would possess her. She would learn his ways, she would
be cleansed of her current mate’s impurities, and she would join the tribe as
his mate.

And
TikTik will be so jealous! And Bruk envious.

It made
him feel good. To know that
he
would be the one envied, that
he
would
be the one admired for the first time in his life had his heart racing in
anticipation. As the sounds continued from the covering they were sleeping
under he could hear how happy she was and began to feel a twinge of regret at
the idea of taking her from the others.

Then he
suddenly realized who these pale people were.

The
Spirit People!

As he
continued to watch he realized the stories were true, that it was indeed the
Spirit People who lived on the Mother River. He had heard of spirits that
walked amongst man because they chose to, and he realized now that if she were
indeed one of the Spirit People, then there was no way he would be able to take
her unless she was willing to be taken.

He
scratched under his arm, waiting patiently for the group to sleep. It didn’t
take long for the water-jar to apparently empty and all but one of the dark men
to board their boat, the other left to stoke the fire then apparently stand
guard. He was fast asleep under a tree, a head covering hiding his face, an
oddly shaped spear resting on his lap.

The tent
quieted down and the snoring of the man spirit soon could be heard. The Woman
of Light exited their shelter then walked toward the boat, disappearing inside
for a few minutes.

This was
his chance.

Snoring
continued from the two shelters and the guard against the tree. He crept
forward, readying his blowpipe, inserting a carefully chosen dart. The last
thing he wanted was to kill her, if that were even possible—kill a spirit?
Perhaps a medicine man could, but not him, a mere man.

The
Woman of Light walked down from the boat and onto the shore. She approached her
shelter, a smile on her face, and again Tuk felt a twinge of regret.

She
will only let you take her if she is willing.

He
raised his blowpipe and took a deep breath. Taking aim, he placed his lips over
the end of the tube then with a sudden exhalation, launched the laced dart
toward the spirit. She grabbed her neck, wincing, then immediately began to
wobble, her knees losing control.

Tuk
leapt from the underbrush he had been using as cover and in an instant was in
front of her. Her eyes bulged with fear, and a strange word came out of her
mouth, louder than he had been expecting. The guard stirred, his head covering
falling off its perch and onto his lap as the man woke.

Tuk had
no time. He bent over and lifted the Woman of Light at the hip, tossing her
over his back as he spun and rushed into the forest, his experienced feet
carrying him swiftly away from the camp. A loud cracking sound erupted behind
him and he heard something hit a tree nearby followed by shouting, first by who
he assumed was the guard, then soon by several others.

But he
had her.

He had
his spirit, in his arms.

Which
meant she had gone with him willingly.

And he
had found his mate.

Acton bolted upright, wired, listening for what had woken him. He
looked for Laura but she wasn’t beside him, sending his heart immediately
racing. He knew something was wrong. A gunshot rang out and he leapt forward,
grabbing for his clothes with one hand as he unzipped the tent with the other.
Rolling out onto the ground he heard Reading to his right.

“What
the bloody hell is going on?” he roared as he burst from his tent. Shouts from
the boat grew louder as more people woke up.

“Laura!”
he yelled as he struggled into his underwear then shorts, not giving a damn if
anyone saw his nakedness. Reading was now on his feet, looking in the direction
their guard was pointing. Nothing but unintelligible Portuguese was making it
out of their protector’s mouth, but it was evident as Acton shoved his hiking
boots on that he was terrified.

“Laura!”
he yelled again as Reading joined him.

“Is she
missing?” he asked.

“I don’t
know. She’s not in the tent and she’s not answering.” He looked at the boat and
saw Fabricio rushing down the ramp, gun in hand. “What’s going on?” He spotted
Milton on the deck. “Greg, check to see if Laura is on the boat, maybe the
bathroom!”

Milton
nodded and disappeared. Fabricio spoke to the panicked guard for a moment then
ran over, pointing into the forest. “He say a native took the woman!”

“What?”
Acton felt faint and he dropped to a knee, Reading thankfully taking over.

“Is he
sure?” demanded the law enforcement officer.

Fabricio’s
head bobbed rapidly.

“How
many?”

“He say
only one.”

“When?”

“Just
now, just before he shot the gun.”

Acton
shoved himself back to his feet. “Then they haven’t gone far, especially if
she’s resisting.”

“Silence!”
yelled Reading, and they all listened for her shouts, but there were none. The
guard came forward with the other men from the boat, all armed, saying
something in Portuguese to his captain. Fabricio questioned him again and the
man repeated his answer. Fabricio turned to Acton.

“He say
she knocked out somehow. The man carry her over his shoulder.”

“She’s not
here!” announced Milton from the boat.

“She’s
been taken by a native!” yelled Acton.

“What?”

The
confusion was evident in Milton’s voice but Acton didn’t have time to deal with
it. He pointed at Fabricio. “We need flashlights, guns and your best trackers.”

“Flashlights
and guns we have, but none of us is trackers.” He pointed into the jungle. “And
to go in there at night, it is suicide!”

Acton
grabbed at his hair in frustration, the time ticking by painfully evident as
with each second she was another step away. He turned to Milton. “Get me the
spare satellite phone, iPad, manual charger, Taser, Glock, five mags, and food
and water for three days.”

“I’ll go
help him,” said Reading, rushing toward the boat.

Acton
turned to Fabricio. “Can you radio for help?”

“Yes,
senhor, but it will take at least three days to arrive.”

Acton
was pacing in circles, indecision threatening to take over when he stopped and
took three deep, slow breaths, his finger held up to silence everyone around
him.

He
opened his eyes.

“Are
there any tribes here that could help us?”

Fabricio
shrugged his shoulders. “Perhaps, but we won’t find them until morning, and by
then I fear it will be too late.”

“What do
you mean?”

“Whoever
took her knows the forest, he will not be found unless he wants to be found.”

“Why
would he take her?”

Again Fabricio
shrugged. “Any reason. He might want wife, trophy, food.”

“Food?”

“He
might want to eat her.”

“There’s
cannibals here?”

“There
are rumors.”

Acton
growled in frustration as Reading ran down the ramp, two backpacks in hand. He
tossed one to Acton. “Everything you asked for is inside.”

Acton
took a quick look to confirm, then disappeared into his tent, dressing in more
appropriate clothes to help protect him from the jungle, then threw a few extra
pairs of socks and underwear, along with his utility knife, in the bag. He
reemerged with Reading preparing to leave, Milton struggling to join them.

“What
can I do?” he asked.

“Stay on
that boat and make sure they don’t leave. Try to radio for help and tell them
cost is of no consequence. See if they can fly in a search team, task a
goddamned satellite if you have to.” He pointed to the satellite phone in
Milton’s hand. “Keep that on you at all times, and charged. We’ll check in
every hour if we can. Don’t call us just in case we need radio silence.”

Milton
nodded, gripping their lifeline in both hands.

Acton
turned to Fabricio. “From this point on you are all being paid triple.” He
pointed at Milton. “He’s in charge. You do as he says. In the morning I want
you to try and contact a local tribe to see if they can help.”

Fabricio
looked terrified at the prospect but nodded, greed overcoming fear.

“Are any
of your men willing to come with us?”

Fabricio
translated and the other five men stepped back slightly, looking away.

Cowards!

“Very
well. You’ll hear from us in an hour.”

He
turned toward Reading who was already pointing at the ground. “I see footprints
here.”

Acton
stepped out of the light of the fire and into the inky black of the forest.

“Let’s
go get her back.”

Northern Amazon
Three days before the attack

Tuk rushed as quickly as he could, dodging around the trees, his
deeply attuned eyes able to see sufficiently. The shouting in the distance had
faded to nothing, replaced by the nocturnal creatures of the forest, too many
of which were deadly. The safest course of action would be for him to find a
place to shelter for the night and begin the return to his village in the
morning, but unfortunately that wasn’t an option right now—he had to put
distance between him and the Spirit People.

He had
taken their woman, their only woman. Whether the fact she was the only woman
was of significance, he had no idea, however the mere taking of her he was
certain was.

But
she went willingly!