CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Mia woke up with her face cemented to the leather seat, drool crusted over the corner of her mouth, and her throat far past Sahara dry. She squeezed her eyes shut against the flashbacks. Colby’s orders. Jared’s arms. She lost her man.
Screw them both. Mia excised her cheek from the seat and glared at Jared. He left Colby. Left him for dead. Why didn’t he get him? Wasn’t that what they did? Save people?
“Hey, Jared, or whoever you are. Why are we sitting here?” Her voice rumbled, hoarse and desperate. Her question should have been why was he sitting here and not loading up a torpedo launcher.
Jared gripped the steering wheel with enough strength she thought it might break. They weren’t flying through the thick jungle underbrush. The slapping echo of vegetation slashing against the windshield no longer drowned out the roar of the engine.
“Mia.” He could crush asphalt with his voice.
“Jared,” she said, both scared and angry, and fairly certain this was Jared.
The dome light clicked on overhead. Jared jumped out as if he needed a calming stroll in the park, and he beelined to a small shack in a clearing. Wood boards hung gimp and gaped. Peeling paint clung to an occasional plank, while others were sun-blistered and bare. It was larger than her last shack, but that wasn’t saying much.
Mia reached for the door handle to follow but instead whimpered. Everything ached. Her forehead to her ankles. And her arm, that was the killer. It was the first time she noticed the bandage.
Vivid flashbacks again came at her like a skipping movie. Juan Carlos Silva, gruesomely dead. Her flesh wound. Colby propping her up and pushing her through hell.
Jared could run away, but he couldn’t get too far. She pushed through the roar in her arm, opened the door, and set the stumbling pace of a discombobulated woman on a man-saving mission.
Heat drenched her, humidity cloaking her in a jungle second. A wave of nausea smacked her clear across her face. Food. She needed something in her stomach. She tried to ease the stomach rolls.
Nausea punched her again. No, food wasn’t the best idea. She’d just throw it up, preferably all over Jared. She swallowed against the queasy ripples. Water might be the prudent plan.
With the concentration required for brain surgery, Mia placed one foot in front of the other, hobbling as close to Jared’s path as her stupor-slicked mind could manage. She stumbled through the egress into a gang of mercenaries, all who looked like they ate rusted nails for Sunday brunch and bent steel for fun.
Her awful cartel-gifted sundress, splattered in blood and dirt, stood out as strangely feminine in the sea of muscles, guns, and testosterone. Mia fingered the scab from Silva on her neck. She apparently presented a shocking image. The room hushed soon as they caught a glimpse of her.
A blond in a cowboy hat tossed her a package that crinkled before it went airborne. Somehow she caught it, unaware of what it was, and her arm hurt fierce from the motion. All eyes locked on her, then hers pinned on Jared’s.
“Wet wipes,” Blondie said. “Like a soldier’s shower. Use whatever you need.”
She pivoted and looked at him. His face was painted in greens, grays, and blacks. Smudged and sweaty. Brilliant blue eyes beneath it all. Somewhat human compared to the others.
Mia cleared her throat. Her gaze stole back to Jared. The sinewy muscles in his jaw flexed, and he took a step toward her but didn’t open his mouth. Her chest felt tight, anxious energy flooded her fingers.
She had nasty things to say to him. Things to order him to do. But her mind couldn’t string them together. Threats loomed close to her tongue, but her mind didn’t comprehend reason or issue rhetoric.
Unable to complete menial oratory tasks, she rushed at him, fists balled, teeth cemented together, and slammed him dead center in his chest.
The impact was like she ran fist first into the side of a mountain. Sheer physics would have bounced her off and onto her butt if he didn’t grab her forearms. Other than his hands cuffed on her arms, Jared didn’t acknowledge her tirade.
What kind of assholes did Winters work with? Anger pulsed in her temples. Her molars hurt from gritting her teeth. She pulled from Jared, struggling and vibrating with rage. He loomed impenetrable. Not flinching. Not reacting. Nothing. Not a single expression.
“What’s your plan?” Finally, her vocabulary returned.
The steadfast boredom on his face stoked the embers of her irritation further. Red-hot anger choked her. Shit. She couldn’t breathe. Suffocating heat. Insufferable assholes. It collided into a stifling, strangling grip on her chest.
“Calm down, Mia.” His words were condescending. Patriarchal.
She’d calm down just to tell him to kiss her ass.
“Shove it.” In her mind, it came out like words launched from a flamethrower. In reality, she wheezed. But wheezed loud. That was something.
Again, no reaction from a void-faced Jared, but Blondie laughed so deep the shitty shack quaked. With focus like a laser beam, she drilled into him.
“Jokes.” She arched her brows and shook her head. “You think this is funny? Why don’t you take your face painted butt and get a move on, cowboy. Go find Colby.”
Blondie-the-Cowboy doubled over in near hysterical cackles. If she had the strength, she’d have stalked over and kicked him.
“Man, this explains everything.” He leaned up enough to extend his dirty hand. “Mia, I’m Cash.”
She cut him off. “I don’t care who you are.”
Were those tears in his eyes? What was so funny? She’d knock sense into them all. After they helped Colby.
“Oh, honey. I know you don’t.”
He was laughing so hard he had tears. Now, it was his turn to gasp for breath. This was ridiculous. These lethal warriors needed to march their behinds back into danger.
Jared and two others watched her watch Cash the Cowboy. Blondie. Whatever his name was, the jerk. They were all jerks. God, this was frustrating.
“Honey, we’re going after your boy,” Cash said. “But we don’t want to get killed doing it. Give us a minute to strategize. There are a helluva lot more assholes with automatic weapons set to rapid fire rock-n-roll than we’d planned to tangle with.”
Silence ticked by, one second after the next. The sweltering Colombian heat made the air heavy. All their eyes bore down on her.
She crossed her arms, trying to make sense of their assumptions. “This explains what?”
“What?” Cash asked.
“You said this explains everything.”
“It does.”
“Stop screwing with me, cowboy.”
He laughed. “There you go again. The only woman who Winters could ever fall for would be one who tries to push around Ballbuster McGee over there, then strut around, calling men cowboys and shit.”
“He hasn’t fallen for anyone.” She smirked at Cash, then to each of them, one by one. “He’s just…important.”
“Yeah, we’ve heard that one before, hon. You’ve got him so wrapped up in you, he doesn’t know his asshole from his elbow.”
Eyes narrowed, she looked at them again. Jared still showed no expression.
“I, uh…I don’t know what to say to that.”
Jared cleared his throat. “There’s nothing to say. But we need your help. Recount everything you saw, everyone you met.”
“Let the girl clean up or something,” Cash said. “Jesus, dick.”
“You can do two things at once. Three.” He grabbed a bottle of something red. “Hydrate. Now.”
Wasn’t he the Prince of Manners? Then she thought of Juan Carlos and his absurd etiquette. She’d take Jared any day, and twice on rescue day.
Mia took a big sip and gagged on syrupy fruit punch, warm and fizzy.
“Bug juice.” Cash laughed.
He laughed a lot. No, he laughed at her a lot.
“This is disgusting.”
“That’ll keep you alive, hon. Just the way Winters requested.”
Mia opened the package of wet towels, started on her face, and systematically moved down to her feet. She dug at the grime under her fingernails and ended with a mound of towelettes on the dirt floor.
Jared peppered her with question after question after question. None made sense, but then again, she wasn’t used to planning an offensive attack. She couldn’t wait to do whatever came next. Hell, she couldn’t wait to finish this bottle of bug juice. She took another huge gulp and shook in disgust. Lord only knew what was in bug juice. She didn’t need to know. But if she finished it, maybe she’d earn a bottle of water or protein bar or anything edible.
Last sip down, and Mia crushed the plastic bottle and held it up. Proof positive she finished the awful thing. “Can I get something else now?”
Jared nodded.
Cash opened a bag. “We’ve got beef stew, beef bbq, beef—”
“Don’t offer her the shit you don’t like.” A man she didn’t know rolled his eyes.
“All right, jackass.” Cash tilted his head and snarled. When he wasn’t laughing, the face paint made him look like a bulldog ready to tear something apart. “Mia, spaghetti with sauce, cheese tortellini—”
“What are you talking about?” She shook her head, sure they were making fun of her.
“MREs, babe. Bag o’ nasty. Meals rejected by—”
“She gets the point, Cash,” Jared said. “Shut it.”
“Spaghetti it is.” Cash threw a pouch at her.
Every camo-clad, weapons-strapped man watched. Would the MRE be that bad? She ripped the package open. The contents looked like spaghetti and sauce. Smelled like…plastic. Whatever. She was starving. They didn’t offer a fork, and she didn’t expect it. The taste was as appetizing as the bug juice.
She looked up. There may have been a crumb of approval in Jared’s grumbling face.
He blinked it away before she could confirm, then he spoke up. “So, this is the team. You already met Cash, sniper to the stars. Thinks he’s a funnyman. You can also thank him for blowing Silva’s brains all over you. Rocco’s our wheels guy. Brock, you can thank for not eating beef tonight. He blows shit up, and says there’s an art to it. And you talked to Parker on the phone. Tech guy extraordinaire.”
“And you?”
“Me?”
“Yeah. If everyone has a specialty, what’s yours?”
“I’m a master at everything.”
Of course. She glared at him. “What about Colby?”
“Winters?”
“Yeah, that’s his name. What’s his specialty?”
“Escape and evade. He’s a survivor. He can stay alive when most men beg for death.”
“What is it with you guys? He’s not invincible.” She rolled her eyes but was secretly praying Jared was right.
“Give him credit. With a handful of help from us, he’ll be home playing house with you soon enough. Unless…” He shrugged.
Her breath caught in her throat. All the air vacuumed out of the shack. Dread shook in every cell. His simple indifference made her head spin. She’d wring his neck. No matter if he was master of everything.
“Easy there, Mia.” Jared’s lips twitched. “Unless he shows up before we bug out. It wouldn’t surprise me if Winters dragged his busted ass through this door.”
“Oh.” Mia’s cheeks flashed hot.
“So, if you’re done with dinner, let’s get down to business. Silva’s gone. Our intel says that Alejandro Suarez, his number two, would take over. Seen him? Heard of him?”
“Yeah. I was his if Colby didn’t turn over the list.” The memory caused a cold sweat in the jungle heat. She pinched her eyes to fight off the revolting reaction her body produced when thinking of Alejandro.
The men fidgeted, obviously unaware of how much she knew of her almost-fate.
“So you met him?” Jared asked. “He’s on the grounds?”
“He’s there.”
“And is he a leader? Or is he a fall guy?”
“Not much of a leader. Nothing I’d think a cartel number two should be.” Mia wrung her hands together. “Not that I know much about it, I guess.”
“Give us something. Your file says you’re a psychologist. What can you tell us?”
Deep breath in, out. She blocked her repulsion and analyzed her memories. “Where Juan Carlos was a narcissist, Alejandro was a need-driven fiend. His interest lies in what they called their product, and Juan Carlos kept him in line with promises of…well, of me.” She took a deep breath. “He may have the brawn to keep men in line but not the brains. And he knows it, too. Strategy won’t be his thing. But torture? That’s his modus operandi.”
“Good job, Mia. That’s great.”
“Why would that be a good thing?” Mia scrunched her forehead.
“Because Winters can handle a little torture, and he’s smart as they come.”
“But he’s hurt bad. He told me so.”
“He’ll do what it takes to make himself ready for our arrival. He knows the drill.” Jared turned toward the table and their drawings. “All right. So they have a leader. They have plenty of men. We need another blitz attack to confuse the hell out of them again. We figure out where our boy is, grab him, and hightail it on home.”
Mia cleared her throat. “They kept me in a room that looked like it was for…captives. Top of the stairs and down a long hallway, locked from the outside. No windows.”
“Smart girl. So we get into that room. Brock, I need diversionary explosions here, here, and here.” Jared pointed to the schematics on the table. “A fiery blockade near this section, where his men congregate.”
“Roger that.” Brock narrowed his review on the map.
“Cash, position here,” Jared said. “I want you to cover me on the way in, pick off anyone you see in the house, and provide cover on our way out.”
Cash gave a chin lift. His cowboy hat rode low over his shaggy hair, piercing eyes, and camo-painted face.
“I want wheels here, Roc. Double-check that armored Rover. I gave it a hell of a beating when Mia and I hauled ass out there.”
Rocco cracked his neck right, then left. “Ain’t nothing gonna take that Rover down. But I’ll give it a once-over.”
“Brock, you’ll go in with me. Rocco, you follow behind.”
“What about me?” She hated interrupting him, but he edged her out of their discussion.
Jared didn’t skip a beat. “What about you?”
“What will I do?”
“You’ll sit your behind on this chair.” He tapped the back of a ratty chair. “And wait for us to come back with your boy.”
“I don’t think so.” She puffed out her chest and straightened her shoulders. Anything to make Jared change his mind.
He coughed a sarcastic laugh. “I’m not giving you an option here, Mia. This isn’t a game, and you’ll do as you’re told.”
“I didn’t say it was a game.” She took a step forward. “I’m just supposed to sit here and wait?”
“No two ways about it. You’ll stay put. The rest of you, let’s go.” He motioned toward the door.
“I could—”
“You can’t.”
Mia slapped her hands onto her hips. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”
“Honestly, I don’t care. We don’t have time to debate this.”
“Prick.”
He cracked the tiniest smile. She saw it, but it faded faster than his shutdowns. “Call me all the names you want. But if you went back out there and got hurt, Winters would have my ass.”
“Yeah, you’re so scared of him. I see that.”
“You don’t get it, honey. He’s not here, and it’s our job to make sure you’re safe. We watch out for our own, and that means you don’t move. He’d have every right to take a cheap shot at me if one good-looking hair on your head gets hurt under my watch.”
“You’re still a prick.”
“And you’re a subordinate. Sit your cute ass down.”
Cute? Jared speaking in anything other than black and white seemed a deviation. Mia rolled her eyes but didn’t respond. Cash ambled by her and winked. At least she had a friend in him. Jared was a jerk. And who knew about the others.
They filed out the shack door. Jared turned to her before leaving. “Sit down. Don’t move. Don’t leave. You may hydrate. That’s all.”
She hated him. Frustrated tears burned her raw eyes, but she wouldn’t let them fall. She hated losing control. Hated her emotions when they ran rampant. But none of that mattered as she sat alone.
Insects buzzed throughout the shack. Mia ignored the rickety chairs and packed dirt floor. In the corner of the room was a makeshift bed. Really, just a thatched mat.
Exhaustion clawed in the silence. It overpowered the nerves that tormented her stomach. The bed called to her with burden-easing promises.