“Much better. I can walk.” A frown pinched her brow. “But I think you should rest a little longer.”
Aww, she was worried about him.Precious.But then again, he probably shouldn’t read too much into it. If something bad happened to him, she’d be on her own. And she’d made it clear she wanted an escort to keep her safe. If he were dead, he wouldn’t be much good to her.
“Any idea how close we might be to a town?” she asked.
He shrugged. “I thought we would’ve hit one about two hours ago, so… nope.” She released a resigned breath. “I think we should—”
“Shhh!” She held up a hand, eyes darting to the right. “Did you hear that?”
Cocking his head, Xander listened closely to the noises of the jungle, latching onto a sound that didn’t belong to nature. The chatter of men speaking in Spanish.
With a low curse, he shoved up to his feet, grabbed Essie’s hand, and yanked her forward.
“Where are we going?” she hissed, but he ignored her, tugging her over to a nearby tree.
A tree they could climb up and hide among the dense branches and leaves until the men passed by underneath them. Because from the sound of it, they were headed straight in their direction.
“Up!” Xander grabbed her hips and lifted her right off the ground. Essie caught one of the lower limbs and pulled herself straight up.Good girl.With a leap, he caught the same branch and hoisted himself up. “Keep going.”
She led the way up, choosing sturdy branches, and he followed. The moment they were high enough, he touched her good ankle, motioning for her to stay put. Side by side, they hovered on a thick bough, listening as the men below drew closer.
Xander hated not being armed. Normally, he had his Glock 19 and switchblade, but, thanks to Barrera’s men, he’d been stripped of both. He was damn good with his fists, but even in top physical shape—which he most definitely wasn’t—he would be no match against a group of guerillas or narcos toting machine guns.
And that’s exactly who appeared beneath them.
Holding his breath, Xander watched the men pass by, completely oblivious to him and Essie perched directly above them. He listened to their conversation, trying to determine their identity, but all he picked up on was them bitching about being out there in the middle of nowhere.
Beside him, Essie tensed. From fear? Or did she recognize them? Were they looking for her?
After the men passed, he glanced over at her. “Friends of yours?”
She bristled. “No, of course not.”
“You didn’t recognize them?”
“Did you?” she shot back, her eyes narrowing.
No, he hadn’t. But that didn’t mean they weren’t Barrera’s men sent to track one or both of them down.
“No need to get all riled up, Peaches. Doesn’t sound like they were looking for us.”
“You speak Spanish?”
“One of my many talents.” Why he was flirting with her, he didn’t know. It was like he’d completely forgotten his pact with himself to ignore her. But he liked the banter. The teasing. Enjoyed the rosy flush rising in her cheeks.
“Just so you know, I’m not riled up,” she assured him. “In fact, I’m perfectly calm and—”
Her voice abruptly cut off and her dark eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. A sharp breath escaped her. She was looking over his shoulder, and he was about to turn to see what had caught her attention, when she grabbed his arm and squeezed. “Don’t move,” she hissed between her teeth.
Jaguar,she mouthed.
Fuck my life.Like fuck it right up the ass.Good idea, Hawke.Climb up a fucking tree in the middle of the jungle.
Okay, so maybe they hadn’t had much of a choice. Which was the lesser evil? Bullets or the razor-sharp teeth of a jaguar?
At least it’s not a shark,he thought grimly. He had an unnatural fear of the apex predator. More of a phobia really, because he had no logical reason to fear the creature. Other than, of course, the terrifying knowledge he could be attacked by one in the open water. It’s why he stayed the hell out of the ocean.
Okay, what did he know about jaguars? Not a whole helluva lot other than they were excellent stalkers, ambush predators who were good climbers and swimmers. In other words, running from one would be foolish. Like signing your own death warrant.
