Chapter 6 #2
They continued hiking, miles upon miles, until they were both breathing hard and thoroughly exhausted.
Xander paused and wiped a hand across his sweating brow.
Above them, the first faint tinges of daylight began to appear, and he realized they’d been walking all night.
He’d pushed himself hard to get as far away from Barrera and his men as possible with zero consideration to his companion and her much shorter legs.
“Let’s take a break,” he said. Because endless weeks in captivity with minimal nourishment meant he was exhausted, too. He wasn’t sure how he’d made it this far without collapsing. Guess he’d chalk it up to sheer stubborn will.
She made a relieved sound and dropped to the ground. “I thought you were going to make us walk to Manzanillo all in one go,” she declared, out of breath.
“Sorry. I just don’t want to run into any trouble.
The sooner we’re out of here, the better.
” The area was crawling with Mexico’s most infamous narco traffickers, all fighting for control.
And if her sweet ass belonged to Barrera, his men would capture her and kill him with zero hesitation.
As much as he hated her being somehow connected to his arch enemy, he wasn’t going to leave her stranded and defenseless in the middle of the jungle and all its lurking terrors.
He didn’t know why she escaped, but she must’ve had a good reason.
He watched as she opened her backpack and pulled out two bottles of water and a couple packages of peanut butter crackers.
When she offered him half of her stash, he sat down beside her and grumbled a thanks.
As he inhaled the snack—peanut butter crackers had never tasted so damn good—his attention drifted down to the backpack.
“I don’t suppose you have a weapon in there, do you?”
“No.”
He figured as much. She didn’t seem the type to know much about firearms, much less be toting one around. Sure, she’d shown him her fierce side, but she also seemed delicate. Extremely ladylike. Very, very feminine. He couldn’t ignore all her curvy, tempting assets if he tried.
“How about a toothbrush?” he joked, fully expecting her to say no. But when she nodded and plucked one out, along with a tiny tube of toothpaste, he wanted to kiss her. No, wrong phrase. Hawke. You definitely do not want to lock lips with the cartel princess.
But he did want to brush the crud off his teeth, and he gratefully accepted both. Squeezing a small amount onto the brush, he began scrubbing with glee as he surreptitiously studied her.
A part of him wanted to know more about her.
Why had she run? What was her name? Why did she want to go to Manzanillo?
It didn’t matter, though. Soon they would part ways.
She could do whatever she wanted, and he would call Brandon Ward and the rest of the Motley Crew.
Let them know he was alive. I’m sure they’ll be thrilled.
He still felt bad about running off in the middle of an op.
But he’d convince them to come down, help him launch a surprise attack on Barrera and kill the bastard.
If he’d learned anything from his thirty-some days in captivity, it was to not run off half-cocked and attempt to accomplish everything on his own.
It was a new concept. He’d always been a loner.
As far back as he could remember. But after meeting Brandon and the others, he’d learned it’s good to have friends.
Men who had his back. And in this case, those men were highly-trained former military badasses.
They’d help him bury José Barrera once and for all.
Then maybe Xander could finally sleep better at night.
Yeah, right. Guilt over what happened to Lyssa would always eat away at him. Haunt him until he lay on his death bed and exhaled his last breath.
Xander spit, rinsed his mouth and handed the toothbrush and paste back to Essie.
Ah, minty fresh. While she packed it back up, he drank the rest of the water and crushed the plastic bottle flat between his hands.
Since there was no recycling can in sight, and little chance of finding clean water to refill it, he was about to toss it when movement caught his eye.
A shadow slithered right down the middle of the path, stopping beside the backpack.
“Don’t move,” he gritted between clenched teeth, zeroing in on the deadliest snake in Tierra Caliente—the fer-de-lance.
“What—”
He shushed her, nodding to the serpent. It had a distinctive triangular head and heat sensing pits between its eyes and nostrils which gave it a formidable appearance.
His gorgeous travel companion sucked in a sharp breath.
Neither of them moved. The amount of potent, very poisonous venom in the highly aggressive snake didn’t bode well if either of them got bit.
Without antivenom, death was a certainty.
While contemplating the best course of action, the snake began to move again. It slithered right over the backpack and headed straight toward his wide-eyed senorita.