“We need to go,” Tiny said, quietly but firmly.
Angelo glanced at him, then back at his sister when she said something. The young man nodded. He looked completely scared, and Spike couldn’t blame him. They’d been lucky as hell so far that no one had heard all their noise. The chance of all of them getting up the stairs, through the house, and back to the truck without being discovered was slim to none, but Spike would rather take his chances out in the jungle than inside this bunker or the house itself, where they could be trapped.
Tiny took point and led Isabella and Angelo up the stairs, followed closely by Woody and then Spike. With every light tap on the metal stairs, Spike expected one of the men around the corner to hear them and come running with guns drawn, but that didn’t happen. They made it up the stairs, and down to the first floor, then tiptoed through the still eerily empty house toward the back door. They all paused and looked around carefully before slipping outside to the cover of the random car, then into the jungle.
Just when Spike thought they’d basically won the hostage lottery and gotten out unscathed, a shout rang out from a large truck that pulled up along the side of the house.
To his dismay, men piled out of the canvas-covered back. There had to be at least a dozen, and they all looked pissed way the hell off.
Shots rang out as their group of five ran deeper into the trees.
They’d been so close. So damn close! Spike honestly wasn’t sure how they were going to outrun the men giving chase, who seemed a little too trigger happy for his peace of mind.
As he wove in and out of the trees and prayed none of the bullets flying through the air managed to find him or anyone else in the group, he had a moment to be thankful Reese wasn’t with them. He was concerned about Isabella and the others, but not like he would’ve been if Reese was out here, trying to avoid being shot.
They weren’t even attempting to be quiet anymore, there was no need, and instead ran as fast as they could through the trees to make it back to where Reese should be waiting with the truck. Spike prayed no one had spotted their getaway vehicle.
If they had…they were screwed.
Reese forced herself to stay calm. She was hunkered down in the jungle behind some trees and foliage about forty feet from the truck. She wished she had some bug spray, because she was getting eaten alive by the insects around her. They were probably putting out some sort of pheromone to their bloodsucking buddies that there was fresh meat available for feasting.
She was also sweating in places she hated to sweat, both from anxiety and the humid jungle. There was nothing remotely attractive about boob sweat. Or butt crack sweat. And Reese had a feeling when she eventually stood back up, she’d have wet spots on her clothes in very embarrassing places.
But no matter how uncomfortable she got, she refused to move from her hiding place.
Especially now.
She had no idea how long she’d been hiding when a large military-style truck rumbled down the path. She held her breath and prayed it would keep going, but of course it didn’t. It stopped several yards from their stolen truck, still easily visible despite being parked in the woods off the rutted trail. Two men got out—one from each side of the cab—and a third lifted the canvas flap in the back to peer out.
From her vantage point, seeing the many pairs of eyes looking out of the back of the truck almost gave Reese a heart attack. If they all got out and started searching the area, she’d most definitely be found. She tried to make herself even smaller and cursed the extra pounds on her frame.
The two men from the cab approached the old piece-of-shit truck, which had run remarkably smoothly, and peered inside. They had a short conversation…
Then, to her amazement, they hurried back to their vehicle and climbed inside.
She breathed out a huge sigh of relief. That had been way too close.
But when the truck left, it did so in a rush—as if the driver somehow knew the old pickup was a sign that something was happening at the house he was obviously headed for.
Biting her lip, Reese debated what to do. She certainly couldn’t exactly follow them. And she wouldn’t break her promise to Gus by following where he and Tiny had disappeared into the jungle.
If the more than dozen men who’d just passed went to the house and caught Gus and Tiny inside, there would be nothing she could do but go back to Bogotá and try to find help. She could call Bubba or go to the US Embassy, but by the time anyone else got out here, it would probably be too late.
No. If she was going to do something to help, it wasn’t going to be driving back to the city.
Moving slowly, and doing her best to listen over the beating of her heart in her ears, Reese headed back to the truck. She needed to be ready to leave at a moment’s notice. Somehow she knew without a doubt that when Gus and Tiny returned—hopefully with her brother, Isabella, and Angelo in tow—she needed to be ready to go. Right that second.
She made it back to the truck without anyone leaping out from behind a tree yelling “gotcha!” It was ridiculous to think about the boogeyman jumping out of nowhere in the middle of the jungle, but she was so far outside her comfort zone right now, she was hardly rational.
The engine would make noise when she started it, but she needed to get the truck turned around and ready to get the hell out of there. With sweat pouring down her face and into her eyes, Reese grabbed the wires under the steering column and started the engine. It sounded way too loud to her ears, but she ignored it and put the truck in reverse. She backed out and pointed the nose of the truck back the way they’d come.
She was sitting there, trembling, worried, and wondering what to do next, when she saw movement to her right.
Her eyes widened when she saw Tiny running full tilt toward her. Followed closely by a woman, a man she didn’t recognize, then Woody and Gus.
Relief hit her so hard, she sagged in her seat.
But the relief was short-lived, because Tiny was yelling at her to move over, to let him drive. Woody practically threw whom Reese assumed was Isabella into the front seat and then climbed into the bed of the truck with the unknown man.
Tiny was standing at the door on the driver’s side and frantically gesturing for her to slide over.
“Get in!” Woody yelled from the back. “Let her drive!”
“I don’t think—”
But whatever Tiny was going to say was cut short when more shouts sounded from the trees to their right. Then something pinged off the metal of the truck, making Reese flinch.
Gus slammed the passenger door behind him after he’d jumped inside next to Isabella and yelled, “Go, go go!”
Waiting a split second to make sure Tiny made it inside the bed of the truck, Reese slammed her foot down on the gas pedal and the truck lurched forward. The back tires spun, sending the truck careering drunkenly as the tires attempted to get traction, then they shot forward.
She spared a glance behind her and saw all three men in the back were ducked down low as three other men stood in the middle of the dirt road, shouting at her in Spanish as they fired their weapons in an attempt to make her stop.
But she wasn’t stopping. No freaking way.
Gus was holding onto the dashboard with one hand, half turned in the seat to stare out the back window. “Shit, they’re comin’ after us!” he yelled. “Go faster, Reese. Get us the hell out of here!”