Last Spy Standing (7 page)

Chapter Six

They were surrounded in minutes. Then ominous silence settled over the area once again. Megan’s fingers twitched on the trigger.

Suddenly, she spotted movement to her right.

She swung that way.

“Que pasa, chica?”
A tall, Creole man stepped from cover first. Umberto. He was one of the oldest men on Juarez’s team. “Everything okay here?”

Megan made herself lower her weapon and put a smile on her face that she hoped looked real. “We’re on our way back.”

Since Umberto hadn’t been in camp when Zak broke out, she relayed how the kid had some trouble with Juarez and ran away into the jungle, then how she’d hooked up with Mitch, her mercenary friend, for some help.

As she spoke, nine other men came forward, their rifles slung on their shoulders. They took their cue from Umberto, and Umberto took her at her word. She’d known him for a year, and had a surreal kind of friendship going with him—or as much as you can make friends with an enemy you knew you might someday have to shoot.

She’d first shown up at the Juarez camp bringing a delivery from a Miami connection, and after a few days she’d mentioned that she wouldn’t mind staying. Most of the men had wanted nothing to do with her. They were used to women working in the camp’s cantina, not meddling in serious business. Umberto had taken her under his wing and protected her while the meanest of the bunch had challenged her and worked at making every waking minute of her life miserable.

Months passed before her antagonists realized that she’d never quit. If they wanted her gone, they’d have to kill her. Her tenacity eventually earned her some respect. But it was Umberto’s protection and Juarez’s favor that saved her. Apparently, Juarez had some issues with his Miami connection in the past, and having her leave the man for him pleased the boss on some level.

“How about some
maté?
” Umberto offered. When people met up in the jungle, it was traditional to sit down with a cup of the herbal drink and talk a little.

Would he be suspicious if she said no? She had to take that chance.

“
Gracias,
amigo, but I’d rather get going. Wouldn’t mind sleeping in my own bunk tonight.” She glanced at Mitch. His facial expression remained neutral, but his tense muscles said the situation didn’t please him.

They needed to get back to camp as soon as possible, before he attacked Umberto and the others and put everything, including their lives, in jeopardy. Or kissed her again, God forbid. Her lips were still tingling. What was that about? And did she kiss him back? No way. She’d swooned from hunger and leaned against him for support. That was her story and she was sticking to it.

Umberto gave her an indulgent smile, oblivious to her internal turmoil. “Can’t say I don’t feel the same. These old bones…” He shook his head, then headed back to the trail with his usual lumbering gait. “
Vamos
then,
chica. Vamos,
hombres.”

Mitch shot her a hard look. He was here on a valid mission, saving a life. She would have helped him if she could have. She didn’t want Zak, or anyone else, to come to harm. But more than that, she wanted to save her brother. Zak had to make it back to camp. She wasn’t going to sacrifice her brother’s life for a spoiled little wannabe drug dealer, no matter what state his father governed.

The kid had been quiet so far, but now he spoke up, stubborn rebellion written all over his face. “No.”

“Keep moving.” She shoved him forward. He seemed to fail to realize that keeping his head down was the best strategy for him. He didn’t grasp the fact that the vast majority of the people present would just as soon shoot him as look at him. Which he proved yet again when he turned to Umberto and said, “Listen, man. I have money.”

Umberto laughed as he looked back and gave the kid the once-over, taking in the dirty, torn clothes and sneakers that had seen better days.

“My father is the governor of Kansas.”

The few men who spoke English openly laughed at that.

“This man—” Zak pointed at Mitch, fury creeping onto his face “—took money from my father to save me. He was supposed to get me out of here. He betrayed me. Take me home and the money is yours. A million dollars.”

Megan shot Mitch a questioning look.
A million?

But he just rolled his eyes. Okay, so the kid was overestimating his worth. Still, she wondered how big a role money played in Mitch’s motives. Was he really more mercenary than soldier? What did she know about the SDDU anyway? Her oldest brother, Jamie, sure didn’t answer any of her questions. For a second she wondered how he was coping, how his injury was healing. The worst part of being here was not getting any news about her family back home.

Soon.
All she had to do was get out of here alive with Billy.

And at the moment, the key to that was convincing Umberto that everything was fine here so they could hurry back to camp. The man was looking Mitch over carefully.

Mitch didn’t even blink. “I think our little boy is homesick.” His voice filled with disdain and sarcasm.

Some of the others sneered at Zak.

Umberto turned to Megan. “What disagreement did the boss have with this
chico?
”

She shrugged. “Something to do with business.”

“He’ll slow us down.”

Meaning they should kill him here.

“The idiot shot Enrique on his way out.” Megan stepped closer to Zak. “The boss will want him.”

The man’s gray eyebrows lifted, then he gave a slow nod. “Can’t say I ever liked Enrique.” He murmured something that sounded like “rabid coyote” and spat onto the ground.

“Forget it,
chico,
” he told Zak. “Even if your father was
el presidente
and he offered the White House for you…” He made a dismissing gesture with his hand.

“You have no idea how much money my father has.” Zak moved closer, then stopped when Umberto’s gun rose. “You could retire.”

Megan held her breath, and made sure her hand was close enough to her weapon to draw. From the corner of her eye she saw Mitch positioning himself, too.

Umberto shook his head.

Mitch relaxed and yanked the kid’s hands back to tie them at the wrist, holding the end of the rope. “You should have read the career brochure more carefully. There is no retirement from this business.”

He kept Zak close. Good. He’d make sure the kid didn’t do anything worse than running off at the mouth. If Zak tried to make a run for it, no way could she hold the men back from mowing him down.

Umberto’s gaze shifted between them, settling on Mitch. “He’s all right?” he asked Megan, his gun still raised.

Her heart rate sped. Juarez would demand Zak, which provided the kid with some protection. Mitch, on the other hand, was expendable. If Umberto wasn’t sure Mitch could be trusted, he wouldn’t risk it.

Mitch stood still, his stance relaxed, even though he knew his fate was being decided. He gave her a flat smile.

A stone-cold operator would have viewed him as nothing but an obstacle and used this chance to get rid of him. She found she couldn’t do it. Not even for her brother.

“I’ve known him since we were kids,” she lied. “I vouch for him.”

Umberto lowered his gun at last, then started back down the trail. The men fell in line behind him.

Mitch angled for the last spot in the line.

It gave her a bad feeling. She made sure to walk next to him, keeping Zak in front of them.

“Three days,” she whispered under her breath.

Mitch didn’t say anything back. His muscles were taut once again, his lips pressed together. She tried not to think about how they’d felt against hers minutes earlier. It didn’t matter, because they wouldn’t be kissing again.

There was no reason at all why that thought should make her sad, but it did.

They marched on at a comfortable pace, keeping an eye on the jungle, ready for its dangers. They were all seasoned jungle trekkers, save Zak who paid attention to little beyond his own complaining. Soon a breeze picked up, which moved the air around and cleared out the humidity a little. Her stomach growled. She ignored it.

She’d gotten used to going hungry in the past year. Supplies didn’t always arrive to the remote camp on time, and Juarez’s men weren’t particularly skillful at hunting. They could shoot, but they had trouble finding and tracking game. They didn’t know the animals well enough to use their habits to help the hunt, couldn’t move through the woods nearly as silently as the villagers.

She didn’t worry about her hunger. She was just grateful she had enough water. Not that she drank a lot. She wanted to keep bathroom breaks to a minimum, concerned that Mitch might try something if she fell back.

They marched on without taking any breaks. The closer they got to camp, the wider the trail got so at least the going was getting easier. Even so, Zak did slow them down. She and Mitch did their best to nudge the kid along, before Umberto could get impatient.

When the kid stumbled and she reached to hold him up, she bumped into Mitch. They pulled back simultaneously, the tension between them obvious. Good thing they were bringing up the rear, out of sight of the others.

“Three days,” she whispered. It was becoming her mantra.

He shook his head.

The rain started up again, a more serious downpour this time.

No sense in stopping to wait. Rain here could go on for days. They were all used to it, and simply put on their hats. Mitch gave his to Zak, then twisted a banana leaf into a handy cone for his own head.

He didn’t speak, so she, too, stayed silent as she trekked forward resolutely.

“It’s the most logical course of action,” she told him when she couldn’t stand the silence any longer. Maybe he’d come to see her point and even help her.

But his response ended that fantasy quickly. “This is not over.”

M
ITCH
CHECKED
OUT
Juarez’s camp. It had been built on the ruins of an old Jesuit mission. He leaned against the open door of the shed he’d been assigned for the night. He couldn’t see much in the dark, but he was familiar with the layout. He’d spent days on recon the first time around, putting together a plan to get Zak out unseen. But before he could have made his well-calculated move, the kid had decided to shoot his way out, messing up everything.

In the middle of the freaking day. Everyone had known what had happened in seconds, and half the camp rushed after them in pursuit.

But only one had caught up with them. Megan.

She was hot as all get-out. He wanted her so badly his teeth ached. Even if she’d messed up his mission in a big way. Even though he might have to hurt her to save Zak. But he didn’t want to. She was worth a dozen of the useless kid.

Mitch stretched his legs, his muscles sore from all the miles he’d covered in the last couple of days. The wound on his leg still ached. He watched the night guards to see if their routine had changed since he’d last observed them. It hadn’t, it seemed. Good. The next breakout would be done the right way, engineered by him. By the time anyone realized Zak was missing, he and kid would be halfway to the extraction site.

He didn’t want to think about where that would leave Megan, but the pesky thought popped into his mind anyway.

He hadn’t seen her since they’d arrived a couple of hours earlier.

She’d vouched for him again, even though she had to know that he was just another obstacle in her way. Attaining her goal would have been easier if she let Juarez’s men take him out. Or if she’d let Umberto take him out in the first place. But not only did she not turn on him, she didn’t speak against him when he’d said he wanted to guard the kid.

None of the other men was keen on sleeping in a drafty shack instead of the cozy bunkhouse. They sure hadn’t fought him for the privilege. She had to know this played right into his hands. Yet she didn’t betray his true identity.

He hoped she wasn’t nursing some dream that he’d help her and sacrifice Zak. If she did, she was going to be seriously disappointed.

Mitch took a look at the kid through the gaps in the shed’s wood slats and felt a moment of pity. On arrival, Juarez had punched him in the face hard enough to break his jaw. The kid could no longer talk, which wasn’t a bad thing entirely. The less he said the less trouble he would get them all in. He was curled up on his side, worn out and miserable, not even bothering to swat away the little flies that drove every man and woman in the camp crazy.

The trouble with having a permanent camp in the jungle was that every bloodsucker out there learned your address in a hurry and moved right in. Much better to always be on the go, in this one regard at least. Mitch swatted the bugs from his face and thought of the
maté
he’d find in the cantina. The kid looked like he could have used a drink.

But Zak needed something stronger than
maté.
Mitch could afford to walk away for a short while. The shack was padlocked, and Zak wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. Looked like he’d finally hit the proverbial wall. Mitch was familiar with the feeling, as well as the pain of a broken jaw. The key was to compartmentalize the pain and keep going. But he’d been trained to do exactly that, and had plenty of practice. Zak was just a kid. Mitch walked up the path, adding a thin bamboo straw to his shopping list.