Chapter 9
Gemma felt as if weights had been strapped to her ankles. Blood pumped from her heart erratically as the effects of dehydration set in. It’d been hours since her tongue had held any moisture, and the grit in her mouth was enough to make her fight off a gag every time she swallowed.
It was a wonder her body could still sweat.
She kept her gaze on the back of Dallas’s boots, watching every step. The stretch of dirt and tree roots was dizzying.
Dallas stopped, and she bumped into his back. “Oof.”
“Fuck,” he ground out.
She sidled around him and found herself teetering on the edge of a ravine. She gasped, and he caught her elbow. Backing up a few inches, she shook her head.
There was a river in front of them.
“Oh no. Oh god.”
She glanced down at the GPS and her heart rate kicked up. So that’s what the windy thing cutting between them and the path to the plane was—a damn river. Had she not been on the brink of fainting, she probably would’ve figured it out sooner.
The brown current wound in a turbulent force, making her insides swish.
Dallas let out another few curses. “We’ve got to get across.”
She snapped her face in his direction. “There’s no way we’re getting across that in one piece. Plus, who knows what that water’s infested with.”
He rubbed his hand over his face, wiping away the sweat and adding more dirt. “Yeah, well, we don’t have much choice but to find a way.”
She opened and closed her hands at her sides. He wasn’t wrong. Not only was getting to the plane entirely necessary at this point, but the route to Ecuador was across the river. Even if they wanted to head back to Colombia, they’d never make it without water.
She tilted her head back and stared at the canopy of branches and vines above them. “I mean... we could try to climb. The trees on this side interlace with the trees on the other. Those branches look pretty thin, though, and there’re probably jaguars hanging out up there.”
Dallas grunted. “The branches might hold you, but they sure as hell won’t take my weight.” He took a step back and paced the edge of the slope, his gaze skyward. “You might be on to something, though.”
He tugged at some vines dangling from the trees. Setting his stick down, he gripped one of the vines near its base and lifted his feet off the ground. “Pretty fucking strong, actually.” His boots landed on the earth with a clomp.
She held out a hand, a laugh tickling her vocal cords. “Wait a minute. You’re not considering swinging across, are you? Who do you think you are, Tarzan?”
Dallas’s mouth twitched—the first sign of amusement she’d witnessed on his face since they dropped from the sky.
“You got a better idea, Jane?”
She folded her arms across her chest. “We could build a bridge.”
He chuckled.
“Okay, I know that’s not an option. But the distance across can’t be more than what? Eight feet? Maybe if we walk farther down, we can find a fallen tree or something.”
He shrugged. “We might get lucky with that, but we’re going to waste energy and daylight. I think it’s best we try something.”
She tightened her arms around her. Anxiety pulled at the muscles in her neck.
“People make rope swings all the time.” He gave the vine a tug. “We just have to make sure to leap off at the right moment.”
She gave her head a slight shake. “Yeah, rope swings. Not vine swings.”
“Where do you think the idea came from?” He passed her the vine. “I don’t think we could make anything stronger.”
She closed her fingers around the twined leathery material. It felt thinner than she’d anticipated, which didn’t help ease her fears. Placing her hands near the base, as Dallas had, she lifted her feet off the ground.
It was strong.
She dropped back down and glanced across. “I don’t know if this will make it far enough. We’d need a vine from farther out, and even then, we might have to jump.”
Dallas picked up his trusty stick and, holding a tree trunk, stretched his arm toward the river. He scooped up a vine that had previously been out of reach and towed it in.
Gemma caught it and he put down his stick.
Dallas took it from her and tugged then did the weight test. “Seems good to me.”
“Great. You take the first swing.”
He scanned the river, his expression intense and his jaw clenched. “Give me the GPS. You don’t have good pockets,” he said, with a glance at her bare legs.
That she did not. She handed over the device. He buttoned up the cargo pocket after placing the phone inside. “Be ready to catch the rope when I send it back.”
She bit back a comment about him falling to his death. Her heart twisted at the thought, making this whole idea seem even more dumb. She caught his arm. “Be careful. Don’t let go unless you know you can reach the other side.”
He waggled his eyebrows at her. “You just worry about getting yourself across.” He backed up with the vine, ran, and leaped off the ravine.
Her stomach plummeted as she watched him soar over the water like a very large monkey. She pressed her hands to her temples as he approached the other side and snapped his feet to the ground. He teetered, and then his booted toes dug into the dirt and he gained traction.
“Ready?” he called.
She nodded. He whipped the vine toward her. Stretching out her hands, she caught it as it came close. She stared at the rush of dirty water and her hands grew damp.
This was a very, very bad idea. She worked out, did yoga and Pilates. There was no reason she couldn’t swing on a darn vine. She wet her lips and backed up then sprinted toward the slope and leaped off. Her swing didn’t carry as much force as Dallas’s, but she careened over the river. The churning below was deafening. She pinned her knees tighter around the material. A little scream caught in her throat.
Dallas’s arms opened, and she smacked into him. He towed her back, his weight preventing her from boomeranging to the other side.
She planted her feet in the dirt next to his and let go of the vine. Dallas’s feet slid from beneath him, and they both smacked onto the earth, inches from the river.
Dallas let out a hoot of laughter. “Goddamn. I can’t believe that worked.”
Gemma swatted his chest and climbed to her feet. “I can’t believe we tried that.”
He climbed up next to her and looped his arm over her shoulders, exhaling deeply.
She glanced up at him and furrowed her brow. “I’ve never known you to be scared.”
His face twisted and his arm fell away. “I wasn’t scared. I’m the one who went first.”
“Oh, that’s right,” she said with a chuckle. “You’re king of the jungle.”
“Damn straight.” He thumped his chest and Gemma let out a laugh that burned up the last of her energy.
She pressed her hand to her still-raging heart. Dallas dug into his pocket and pulled out the device. He turned the GPS to face her. “Forty-five minutes. Think we can make it?”
She glanced up at the low-lying sun. “We have to.”
***
Dallas stomped hisfeet on the ground. They weren’t far. A few minutes. Sweat had long since stopped pouring from his skin. He was too dehydrated. Gemma fought to keep up with his stride, but if he didn’t keep them moving at a steady pace, they’d never make it.
At least the temperature had cooled a few degrees. The only positive aspect of the coming night.
He glanced behind him and reached for Gemma’s elbow. Her arm hung loosely in his grip.
“Dallas—I don’t think I can take—another step—”
The swing across the ravine had temporarily exhilarated them and then led to an almost-immediate crash.
Gemma stumbled, and he caught her before she hit the ground. Swooping her into his arms, he lifted her.
“No, don’t.” She kicked. “I can walk.”
“Too bad. We need to get there.” He summoned all his strength and stomped one foot in front of the other.
He scanned the shroud of trees, the light dimming by the minute.
“There!” Gemma bounced forward in his arms.
He turned to his left. Several broken trees lay in the wake of a white plane.
Gemma shimmied out of his hold and grabbed his arm with both of her hands. A sob came from her lips. “Oh my god. Am I seeing things? Did we actually make it?”
He caught her hand and propelled them toward the aircraft. The tiny plane sure looked a helluva lot bigger sitting in the middle of the jungle than it had on the tarmac.
“Thank god. I was afraid my phone had been tossed during the crash.” He dropped her hand and approached. The wings were split, the nose smooshed against a tree. The windows crackled like spiderwebs, and leaves and debris clung to the body of the aircraft.
He approached the door and pulled it open. Seats were turned over and metal stuck out in places, but it was a solid place to take cover.
Gemma squeezed past him and rushed to her bag, which had fallen into the aisle. She whipped open the zipper, pulled out a water bottle, and chugged. Rivulets ran down her chin. She pulled the plastic bottle away, swiped her mouth, and handed it to him.
“I’ve got some. Just don’t drink it all until we find the rest of the supplies.”
She nodded but sipped again anyway.
He sidled around her slumped form and grabbed his water bottle from his bag, still tucked in the overhead compartment. He sucked back the piss-warm liquid. Water had never tasted so fucking good.
Gasping, he screwed the cap back on and tucked the bottle in his bag. He had protein bars, but first, he needed to take stock of everything that could help them. He went to the back of the plane and pushed a cargo net out of the way. Behind it were two trunks and a large duffel bag—surely Eli’s. A five-gallon jug of water was strapped to the wall. Dallas’s shoulders released a wave of tension.
If they had water, they could survive.
“What’s back here?”
Gemma stood behind him, arms crossed over her chest and some color returning to her cheeks. Her hair clung to the sides of her face, and dirt marred her otherwise smooth complexion.
“Eli’s bag,” he said, pointing. “I haven’t opened the trunks yet.”
Gemma weaved into the small space and hefted the lid on one of the trunks. She let out a loose laugh. “Oh, thank god. There’s food and tons of water.”
Dallas went for the other trunk. Inside were flares, guns, ammo, and a cooking set. “Nice.”
Gemma held up a bag of jerky. “I feel awkward saying this, but how long do we wait for Eli to return before we eat any of his food?”
He took the bag from her hands and ripped it open. “Right now, we don’t know if Eli’s alive. But we are and need to stay that way. We’ll only use what we absolutely need, and we’ll continue to look for him on our way.”
She nodded slowly, her eyes drifting to the open bag, which was releasing the intense scent of salt and meat. “And we’ll leave food behind, right? So if he happens to find the plane he’ll have enough.”
“Exactly.”
She dunked her hand into the plastic. “Oh, my god. I’ve never been so hungry in my life.” She bit into the dehydrated meat and her eyes rolled back.
He popped some in his mouth and sat on the lid of one of the trunks. Gemma pulled off her boots and curled up beside him. “Do you think he’s okay?”
Dallas tilted the bag in her direction. He shifted his gaze to the tiny cargo window and suppressed a sigh. “Even if he survived the jump, it’s unlikely he’ll survive the night. But he probably knows the jungle better than we do. All we can do is hope.”
“Should we set off a flare? I mean, I know—”
Dallas chortled. “Hell no.”
“But if there’s a search out, they’ll be looking for us anyway.”
“Right. And until we figure out who tried to kill us, we can’t trust anyone.”
“Well,” she said, taking another bite of meat. “At least we have guns now.”
“Mmm.”
She stood and opened the trunk next to them. “I’ll see what I can do to fix us dinner.”
He gazed at her slim, tanned, and dirty legs as she bent to rummage through the cans of food and provisions. Her shorts hugged her ass, and if it weren’t for the need to get settled before it became too dark, he’d pull her on top of him and do what he’d wanted to do for the last day. His cock hardened and his gaze drifted to her cotton shirt, pulled across her breasts. Her tight nipples pressed against the fabric.
A piece of meat stuck in his throat. He coughed, took a sip of water, and cleared it. Sitting here staring at Gemma was a surefire way to make him look even more hung up on her than he was, or to choke to death.
“I’ll see what else I can find that might be useful.” He stood and lifted the lid of the trunk he’d been sitting on. He moved the ammo and guns out of the way and reached for the cooking pots and some cloths tucked in a corner. “Want a hot bath?”
She jerked up her head. “Huh?”
He held up a pot.
Disappointment flashed in her eyes. “For a minute I thought you were serious.”
“Well, maybe not a bath. But I can heat some water and we can use it to get clean.”
Her eyes widened in awe. “That sounds heavenly.” But her face quickly fell. “We need to ration our water, though. Who knows how long we’ll be without.”
“Well, there’re more jugs in the trunk than we can carry tomorrow anyway, plus the five gallons there,” he said, pointing to the jug strapped to the wall. “We’ll be sure to leave enough in case Eli finds the plane. Plus, we won’t need much to get clean.”
Slowly, she smiled. “I guess if what we can’t carry will just sit here, then yeah.”
“All right. You work on dinner and I’ll get the water boiling. We don’t have long before it’ll be pitch black.”
He grabbed his gun from his bag and tucked it into the waistband at the small of his back. It was a damn good thing he hadn’t had the gun on him when he jumped from the plane or he could have lost it. For the rest of their trek, he wouldn’t remove it from its familiar spot.
He made his way out of the plane and set up rocks to contain the fire. Next, he tented sticks together and lit them. He returned to the plane and poured water from the five-gallon jug into the pot, then took it out to the fire.
A few minutes later, Gemma exited the plane with a small cardboard box in hand. She dropped it near the fire and knelt. “We’ve got pork and beans.” She placed a can on the ground. “Carrots, green beans, tuna, and instant oatmeal with powdered milk, which will be great for the morning. And soup. We can have this for dinner.”
“Nice find.”
She stretched her hand toward the flame. “I never thought I’d say this, but it’s getting chilly.”
“Yeah. Once the sun’s gone it gets cool. So much moisture in the ground and plants. I saw blankets inside though, and at least we’ll have a roof over our heads.”
The water bubbled. “The hand towels will have to work to dry off.”
“Fine with me.” She grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head.
His tongue thickened in his mouth on an attempted swallow. Christ, he wouldn’t allow himself to get turned on by a woman in a bra.
She stood and worked her shorts down her legs, revealing a black lace thong. Now that would definitely turn him on.
He tossed her cloth into the simmering water then fished it out with a stick. She snatched it midair and wrung out some of the moisture then pressed the cloth to her face and moaned.
“Oh my god,” she mumbled beneath the wet fabric. “You’re a genius.” She moved on to scrub her neck, arms, and belly.
He took the cloth from her again and wet it with fresh water then returned it to her. She went over her legs, butt, and feet then took the hand towel from where he’d set it on a rock and dried off. “Your turn. Holy cow, I can’t believe what a difference that makes. I’m going to go put on my change of clothes.”
She scurried back to the plane with her shorts and T-shirt in hand, her naked ass bouncing up the steps. He shucked off his cargos, his mind far from thoughts of getting clean.
In fact, he wanted to get hot, wet, and dirty rolling around with Gemma.
First, cleanliness. Because he stunk bad enough to keep the bugs away and there was no way Gemma wouldn’t gag if she had to lie next to him. He removed his shirt and washed away the sweat and grime. After he’d dunked the facecloth about five more times than Gemma had, he was finally finished and the water was a murky gray.
He entered the plane just as Gemma was walking out. She wore long pants and a long-sleeved navy-blue shirt and held another pot and a small frying pan.
He stopped at the top of the stairs and moved to the side to let her pass, but she didn’t budge.
“Thanks for the bath.” A smile quirked her lips. Her gaze dipped to his torso, and a deep-red tint coated her neck and cheeks. His abdominal muscles bunched under her attention. She snapped her focus back to his face. “Um. I’m going to warm up some food.”
“Great. I’ll get dressed.”
She tilted her shoulder back so he could pass. His skin didn’t make contact with hers, but heat fissured through him as if it had.
Goddamn, he needed to expel some lust.
Problem was, only Gemma’s hot slit would satisfy him.