“I mean it. That plastic will help keep your wound dry, but not if you submerge yourself,” she warned as she watched Anson’s nude body emerging when he shed his jeans after they reached the bank of the stream. Enjoying the view of his bare ass, and the chiseled muscles of his back, it took all of Natalia’s willpower to not just stand there and drool rather than rush to his side to help him.

With a smile, he looked down at her as she took his hand. “Bossy, bossy.”

“You can play macho all you want, but you won’t be Mr. Tough Guy when green pus oozes out of you because you get an infection.”

The coolness of the water, as they took step after step while it inched up their skin, was heavenly. She held onto his hand firmly. Not just because she wanted to make sure he didn’t stumble and fall, but also because the smoothness of his skin underneath her palm sent delightful shivers through her. This man was so incredibly hot. And the sex. The sex! Anson had made sure to take his time and practically devoured her body. Inch by inch he had explored her body and had taken her to new levels of ecstasy. The memory of his touch, his kiss…

“Natalia? Did you hear me?”

She snapped out of her still sex-induced haze, and said, “I’m sorry, what?”

“I said that as much as I enjoy your warm hand in mine, your assistance really isn’t needed. Have I not proven that I am more than capable?” Anson asked with a mischievous smirk.

“Oh you have more than proven that fact, señor,” she said as she felt warmth course down her body with his delicious little reminder. Damn, she wanted him again, but needed to focus. They had a jungle to survive in, and making love all day was not the way to do it.

Needing to cool off, in more ways than one, she released his hand and dove into the water in a fluid movement. When she surfaced, she turned to see Anson now up to his waist, splashing water on the upper areas of his body, careful to avoid the plastic bag she’d taped around his arm over the gauze. He didn’t realize she was watching, which gave her a brief moment to spy and take in each ripple, each curve, each tantalizing inch of his creamy skin. Gringos were not normally her type, but this man… this man was everything a woman could ever need or desire.

Floating on her back, nipples and toes sticking out of the water, Natalia watched as butterflies fluttered around his body, the sunlight coming down in rays through the thick canopy of trees. Anson cleaned his perfectly shaped body with the backdrop of a thick stand of chusquea quila behind him and the lovely hues of purple water hyacinth floating on the stagnant part of the stream only a few feet from where his muscled frame stood. A modern day Tarzan was the man before her, and Natalia couldn’t help but watch his every move with fascination. The caws of the parrots and the buzz of the insects added to their jungle ambiance, and at that very moment, she had no desire to ever leave their hidden bungalow.

“Are you going to keep staring, or come over here and help me with my back?” Anson asked, looking up at her for the first time, and yet it was obvious he knew that she’d been watching.

She swam toward him and splashed a little water at his face. “Look who’s being bossy now.”

She stood up and smiled when Anson’s eyes went straight to her wet breasts where her nipples were tightly puckered. Trying to ignore the hunger in his eyes, she made her way behind him. Cupping the cool water and dripping it down his back, she used the palm of her hand as a sponge as she washed away the stickiness caused by their lovemaking. The smoothness of his skin, the way it glistened beneath the droplets of the crystal water, all had her heated again.

And then she heard it.

The lullaby of her youth.

Gunshots.

Lots of gunshots.

Anson spun around and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her down into the water as he hovered over her, scanning the shoreline. She clung to his body, feeling her heart nearly beat out of her chest.

Montez? Had he found them?

“Is he here?” Natalia whispered. “Has he found us already?” Montez would kill them both, but he would make sure to kill Anson first just so Natalia had to watch. The idea of seeing Anson die, all because of her, made her ill.

Anson helped her stand, but still held her close. He slowly led them to the shore, his entire body tense, on high alert. Each step they made was slow and quiet. His jaw tensed, and his eyes darkened as they continued to scan all around. “No. The gunshots are from a distance. I would say several miles away. Too close for my comfort, but they are not here.”

More gunshots cut through the air. Sounds of machine guns told them they weren’t hearing the reports of some hunter taking his dinner from the jungle. No, these quick, staccato bursts were indicative of a deadly battle occurring. Natalia and Anson gathered their discarded clothing and dressed as quickly as they could. Her hands shook and her knees felt weak, but Anson was right, the shots were far enough away that they weren’t in immediate danger. But the reports of gunfire invading the peace of their surroundings had still been a shock.

“It must be a coca kitchen under attack. I don’t remember there being any nearby when I was young, but with the demand for paco, more and more kitchens are popping up everywhere,” Natalia said as she put on the last of her clothing. Cocaine labs were becoming the disease of Argentina and spreading like a deadly virus.

Anson nodded. “Yes, I don’t think those shots have anything to do with us.” After buttoning his pants, he walked over, wrapped his arms around Natalia, and kissed the top of her head. “You’re shaking.”

“Well, that scared the shit out of me. I thought it was Montez. We weren’t armed, we were naked, and were just sitting ducks if those shots were directed at us.”

“We’re safe. The sounds of the jungle would have warned us if anyone was approaching.” They stood like that, arm in arm, body to body as the gunshots slowly tapered off. “Sounds like a deadly turf war occurred.”

Natalia nodded against his chest, taking in the masculine scent that instantly calmed her. That and the fact that her hand had brushed against his lower back as she wrapped her arms around him, allowing her to feel the butt of the gun he’d shoved into the waistband of his jeans. “The Hernandez and Ortez cartels have joined forces in trying to bring Montez and his entire empire down. As much as I hate the drug family wars—because no one truly wins—I do hope those bastards succeed in destroying him.” She inhaled deeply with her eyes shut. “Although, to be honest, my family failed at doing so, so it is unlikely Hernandez or Ortez will manage it. The Montez cartel is strong and always has been. Their control over el camino blanco makes it so.”

“The white road,” Anson translated. “You’re talking about Ruta 34.”

“Yes.”

There were a few more random gunshots, which she thought were most likely the killers walking around and putting bullets in the heads of the survivors who lay dying in a cloud of white dust from all the toxic powder. No mercy in drug land. Death was the only message that got through to these people. Ruthless killing was their only language.

Natalia had grown to hate her country. Her home. What once was her everything. Her father had always blamed the Colombians, even though Mexico and Brazil were just as guilty for the country’s descent into the evil of the drug trade. He had said that they turned Ruta 34 into the “White Road”, and the demise of the country would always bloody their hands. Once the Bolivia and Argentina border became the hotspot due to the low risk and high volume because neither country seemed to bother policing, the turf wars began. Her father had grown up in Ciudad Oculta, and although it was a poverty-stricken city at the time of his upbringing, it soon became the den of the worst of the worst.

Cocaine paste was sent from neighboring countries to be processed in Rosario. What wasn’t made into paco—a highly addictive variation of crack where the cocaine residue was mixed with baking soda and often rat poison or crushed glass—was turned into bricks of white powder and sent back up the road. Her father had watched the cheap paco destroy everyone he knew. It was then that he decided that he wouldn’t let the drugs lead his life; he would lead the drugs. She’d worshipped her father as a child but had the shutters pulled from her eyes as her world disintegrated that day. As an adult, she understood the hatred her father felt in having to enter a game where there were never any winners—only enemies and death to all you loved.

“I used to love Argentina so much,” Natalia said. “Now, you can’t even be in the middle of a jungle, with no civilization around, without hearing the sounds of death.”

Anson stroked the back of her head, still holding her close. “It must be tough to have grown up with all of this. You must have always been afraid.”

She shrugged, not sure how to respond to that. “My father did business with Pablo Escobar—one of the most powerful drug lords around. I remember him as a child and being told to fear the man. But to me, he was just a short, fat man who dressed funny. He was sloppy in appearance and not intimidating to me at all, unlike my father who always wore a suit and a tie. Now, he exuded power. I didn’t see why men literally shook in Escobar’s presence. I never understood why men stood on both sides of him with machine guns as if they were going to war. War with whom? As a child, I was never afraid, but rather confused. I could never grasp the power. Although I stood behind my father, too much of a coward to properly greet the man as my father had hoped I would be polite enough to do.” She looked up at Anson. “I don’t think I was ever really afraid. Not until I secretly sold myself to Montez. But then I was afraid of something far greater than the man himself.”

Anson furrowed his brow and tilted his head ever so slightly. “I don’t know what you mean? What had you more afraid than Montez?”

“Disappointing the memory of my family. My abuela, to be specific.”

“Your grandmother?”

She nodded and looked down at the ground. “Her dying words told me to find our family peace. I truly believed killing the man responsible for the death of everyone I loved would do that. It’s why my mission was always to get inside and lay down a wrath like no one had ever done before. But I never did. I was afraid.”

“Killing someone isn’t something that is easy, no matter how much hate and vengeance you have in your body. Anyone would be afraid.”

“It wasn’t that I was afraid of Montez. I wasn’t. I don’t mean to say that to sound tough or something. I simply wasn’t afraid of the man. He couldn’t do anything worse to me than what he had already done. Killing me would have just put me out of my misery. And I was so miserable.” Her voice cracked, but she swallowed back the painful memory to continue. “I was afraid of my grandmother’s words. They haunted me. ‘No more death. No more war. Peace, my Natalia. Find our family peace.’ If I killed Montez, would I shame the memory of my grandmother? So I hesitated. I couldn’t find the courage to kill the man, even though I had many opportunities. I was a coward. A confused coward. I have always been a confused coward, just like I was as a little girl in the presence of Pablo Escobar. Nothing has changed in my life, and all the training, all my planning was for nothing.”

Anson pulled away so he could look directly into Natalia’s eyes. “I think you are one of the bravest women I have ever met. To put yourself in harm’s way, all to end an evil man… well, you have more balls than any Texas bull rider I know.” He smiled when Natalia rolled her eyes at his last statement.

“And just when I was forgetting you were a gringo, you go off and remind me,” she said, giving a small laugh. Although she was grateful that Anson had lightened the mood. Memories of her past stabbed at her very soul, and she didn’t have the time or luxury to go down that path when they were in the middle of survival mode.

“Nothing wrong with being a gringo, mí corazón.”

She noticed how well he said the simple words, her heart giving a little jump as he called her “his heart.” “Ooh, you even have the proper accent when you speak Spanish to me.” She gave a wink as she walked over to the gear they had brought down with them to go fishing with.

“Courtesy of Stryder. He grew up in Rosario, and made sure that when we spoke Spanish, we did it right. He wouldn’t let me sound like I had just learned the language from a text book.”

“So you speak it fluently?” Natalia asked over her shoulder as she squatted next to the pile of materials they had gathered.

“Depends what you call fluently. I wouldn’t want to have a full conversation with you, but I can hold my own if I have to.” He walked over, sat down, and assisted her in preparing the fish traps.

She had learned this basic survival skill while living in Chile, and was now happy she had. It was obvious Anson knew what he was doing in regards to the making of the shell, but two sets of hands were always better than one. They could make two traps now and up their chances of catching something for dinner. She and Anson had already collected what they needed. The stand of cusquea quilas provided the bamboo, and they’d also gathered flexible vines before bathing in the river, so the rest of the work would require them sitting down and actually making them. At least the tedious and time consuming work would keep her mind off the massacre that had just occurred so close to them that she could all but hear the cries of death.

“And you think Stryder will be able to find us?” she asked, not looking up as she tied little knots into the vine, looping it around the bamboo repeatedly.

“I know he will. It’s just a matter of time.”

“I hate to break it to you, gringo, but Argentina is a pretty big country. You Steele brothers may have some superhuman power I am unaware of, but I find the fact that he could find us pretty unbelievable. There’s no way he is going to know we are in the jungle, much less where in the jungle. He’ll more likely go looking for us where Montez is and get himself killed.”

“No, my brother is smart. Too smart to get killed. Trust me.”

They sat there in silence for several moments, both concentrating on their tasks. She glanced over at Anson who, despite having to be careful using his right arm, already had the funnel of his trap taking shape. The competitive nature in her wanted to beat him and have her trap first in the water. Maybe if she kept him talking, it would slow him down. “So tell me the plan. How do you expect Stryder to find us?”

“We go to him.”

She stopped and stared at him. “Where?”

“Well, I have to think the way Stryder thinks. And trust me, that is scary as fuck,” he said with a chuckle. “Anyway, he’ll get to Argentina and soon discover that you and I are not with Montez. He’ll also find out there is a bounty on our heads, which means he will know we are in hiding. Stryder will then know that he won’t be able to just simply find where we are, because he understands I would never allow us to hide in a place that can be found. So, his next step will be to go someplace where I can find him. A meeting place of sorts.”

“And you know all this without even talking to Stryder?” Natalia asked skeptically. She began weaving leaves in and out of her basket to close any holes large enough for the trapped fish to escape.

Anson shrugged. “We’ve worked as a team many times so, while I admit it’s a risk, I’m willing to bet that Stryder will go to Rosario. It’s his home town and it’s where I’d head.”

She nodded, trying to speed up her trap-making as she noticed she was gaining on Anson in the creation. “Okay, I’ll give you that. He could go to Rosario. But you think it will be easy finding him in the narco capital? Rosario isn’t exactly the smallest city.”

“I remember Stryder talking about his childhood neighborhood—Nuevo Alberdi. More importantly, his mother is buried there. My guess—and this is just a guess—is he will be paying his mother a visit. But he will also assume that I know he will be paying her a visit, so he’ll wait for me to show up there.”

Natalia paused, stunned. “That’s really smart. I have to hand it to you, Anson. Smart.”

He smiled. “Thanks. I’m known as the smart brother.”

“I bet your brothers would argue that fact.”

He laughed loudly, wrinkles forming at the corners of his eyes. Anson looked so happy and content sitting on the riverbank with a nearly created trap between his legs. “Very funny. I’m sure they would disagree with me for sure. But it’s still the truth.” He gave her a playful wink.

“You are really lucky to have a close family.” She said the words as fact, and was careful her voice had no undertones of sadness. She didn’t want any pity for all the siblings and loved ones she had lost.

“Oh, I am. We are all very close. The Black Stallion Ranch truly is a home in every sense.”

“And you all live together? Under one roof?”

He nodded as his fingers continued to weave. “It’s a big roof and a lot of land. We work from the ranch as well. My father and brothers and I built the place ourselves. A lot of heart and soul went into it.”

“You may be gringos, but it sounds very Latin of you all. I like that. My culture believes in staying close.”

“Well,” he said as he tied one of the last knots, almost finishing his trap, “I guess you could say my family believes that, too. We’ve created our own culture on that ranch of ours. I can’t wait to show you.” He smiled and looked up at her. “Almost done?”

Natalia looked down at her trap, hoping her hastily-tied knots would hold. “I am. Two more seconds, and I’m about to show you how to catch a fish.”

Anson chuckled as he stood, dusting off the jungle debris from the seat of his pants. “Oh, is that so? Care to make a wager?”

“Wager?” she asked, testing the strength of her bindings.

“Yes, a wager.” He picked up his cylinder-shaped fish trap and walked over to the water’s edge. Natalia got up and did the same. “Whoever’s trap catches a fish first is the winner.”

“And what does the winner get?” They both walked along the edge, looking for dead fish or anything rotting to use as bait. They hit the jackpot when they discovered several dead minnows in a pool of stagnant water that had formed between the bank and a tangle of tree roots.

“Whatever they want.” Anson grabbed a couple of the dead fish, adding them to his trap. He put it in the water, and placed rocks in and around it to hold the trap in place.

Natalia stood there for a moment, contemplating his suggestion. “Meaning? What would you want?”

“It’s a secret. I’ll tell you once I win.”

“Please, that rickety trap has no chance against mine,” she said, baiting her own and then grinning. “Besides, yours is too shallow.” The fact that she was wearing a skirt and not pants would allow her to wade out into the stream to place her trap into deeper water a few feet away from Anson’s. She’d also place it upstream in hopes that the stupid fish would go into the first trap that they passed—namely, hers. Still, she couldn’t help but tease him. “I watched you make yours. You didn’t block all the holes. The fish are going to take your bait and then be on their merry way.”

“Oh, we’ll see about that, Miss Sassy. So I take it you agree to the wager?”

Natalia paused and studied Anson’s twinkling eyes. She wondered what he would want if he won, but feeling pretty confident in her trap, decided to throw all caution to the wind. “You got it, gringo. Winner gets whatever they want.”

“Mí cariño, you just sealed your fate,” he said with a hearty chuckle. “I’m going to enjoy this.”