Chapter 2 #2
Her shirt stuck to her back within minutes. Sweat stung her eyes as she navigated fallen logs slick with moss and fungus. The stream gurgled somewhere to her left, hidden behind walls of wild ginger and bamboo clusters that grew in impenetrable tangles.
She should call Selah.
The thought swept through her. As soon as she returned to Chiang Mai—if she returned—she’d find a way to reach her sister. Selah needed to know she was okay.
If something happened to her out here, if the Myanmar military found her before she made it back—
Focus.
Tobias needed this plant. Whatever htawbyu was, it might be his only chance.
The sound of falling water hissed through the jungle. She pushed through a curtain of spiderwebs that clung to her face and arms, their silk strands catching the light before breaking. A blue-winged butterfly the size of her palm spiraled away, disappearing into shadows that seemed to move.
Oh, she was an idiot, tromping around in the jungle—
There. The waterfall.
It wasn’t impressive—maybe twenty feet of water cascading over limestone rocks worn smooth by centuries of flow. But the pool at its base looked deep and clear, and for a crazy second, she was back in Minnesota, at her parents’ home, splashing in the lake. Cool. Refreshing.
Okay, she might be a little homesick.
Around the pond, ferns unfurled in spirals. Orchids bloomed purple and white from crevices in the rock face.
And there, growing in clusters near the water’s edge—
Small leaves with silver undersides.
Chloe knelt beside the plants, pulling her knife from her pack. The leaves felt velvety between her fingers, releasing a bitter scent that made her nose wrinkle. She cut carefully and put them in a bag.
A twig snapped behind her.
She froze, knife halfway through a stem. The jungle had rules about sound—birds called, insects buzzed, water fell. But branches didn’t break on their own.
Myanmar patrol?
Her heart hammered against her ribs as she strained to listen. Nothing. Just the waterfall’s steady rush and the buzz of mosquitoes trying to find exposed skin on her neck.
She turned back to the plants, working faster now. Get what she needed and get out. Tobias was deteriorating by the hour, and those explosions were getting closer. The last thing Captain Wong needed was a missing American journalist complicating his evacuation plans.
Another snap.
Closer this time.
She stilled.
Chloe’s hand moved slowly toward the camera bag, where she kept her pepper spray. Not much good against armed soldiers, but better than nothing.
A hand closed around her mouth from behind.
“Don’t move.”
She froze, and only the fact that the voice spoke English with an American accent kept her from screaming.
That and—well, he sounded calm. Even professional, in a way that suggested military training.
Her knife was still in her right hand. Could she—
“I’m not going to hurt you,” the voice said, breath warm against her ear. “But there’s a patrol heading this way. If you make noise, we’re both dead.”
Both dead.
Which meant he was hiding too.
The arm across her torso was solid muscle, positioned to control without causing injury.
Special Forces?
Don’t struggle. At least, not yet. Chloe forced herself to breathe slowly through her nose. In the distance, she caught voices speaking rapid Burmese, growing closer.
Myanmar patrol. And she was trapped between them and a stranger who might be enemy or ally.
The htawbyu plants lay scattered at her feet.
She was going to die out here, and Tobias would die in the village, and she’d never get to figure out who was trying to poison kids like Kamon.
“When I move my hand,” the voice whispered, “don’t talk. Just listen. Can you do that?”
Chloe nodded once.
The hand lifted away from her mouth.
She turned her head slightly, catching a glimpse of camouflage fabric and a tactical vest. American, definitely. But that could mean CIA, Special Forces, private contractor, or something else entirely.
The voices were nearly upon them.
She took another look at him. He wore a hat, his face darkened with paint.
But wait . . . No, it couldn’t be . . . What?
“Skeet?”
He should have known this wouldn’t be easy, given the fact that the woman lived for danger.
Her voice carried clearly through the jungle, and he lunged forward, clamping his hand back over her mouth.
“Are you trying to get us killed?” he hissed in her ear, pulling her back against his chest. The Burmese voices grew closer through the canopy.
She bit his finger.
“Ow!” He jerked his hand away, shaking it. “Really?”
“Don’t grab me,” she growled, but at least she was keeping her voice down now. “And don’t sneak up on people in war zones.”
“Noted,” he muttered, pressing them both lower behind the fallen log as boots splashed through the stream nearby. The patrol was close—close enough that he could hear their rapid Burmese.
They both went perfectly still, hardly breathing as the soldiers moved parallel to their position. Twenty meters away, maybe less. Chloe’s blonde hair was pressed against his shoulder, and he could feel the tension radiating from her frame.
The voices faded as the patrol moved deeper into the jungle. Skeet waited another thirty seconds before releasing the breath he’d been holding.
“Well,” he said softly, “that was fun. Nothing like a little near-death experience to start the day.”
“Skeet?” Her voice held surprise and something that might have been relief. She turned slowly, blue eyes widening as they took in his suppressed rifle. “What are you doing here?”
“Well, hello to you too, sunshine.” He flashed her a grin despite their precarious situation. “Just thought I’d drop by for the scenic jungle tour. Heard the artillery was particularly lovely this time of year.”
Her eyebrows shot up at that, some of the tension leaving her shoulders, maybe, now that she knew who had grabbed her. “I didn’t ask for rescue.”
“Lucky for you, I was in the neighborhood anyway.” He watched the patrol move deeper into the jungle before standing and offering her a hand up with an exaggerated bow. “Time to go.”
She ignored his hand, pushing herself to her feet. “Let me guess—Jake put Hamilton up to this.”
“Actually . . . Okay, maybe.” Skeet noted how she moved—competent, alert. She’d always been a looker, but the fact was, she sort of intimidated him with her self-confidence. He preferred a woman to need him a little.
Chloe Silver lived her life on her own terms. And he got that, really.
He didn’t need anyone complicating his life either.
“Figured somebody ought to keep an eye on you before you accidentally start World War Three.”
“I need these plants.” She started to gather the leaves that were scattered at her feet. “Dr. Tobias is dying.”
He gestured toward the jungle where the soldiers’ voices had faded. “And you’re gonna be joining whoever that is if we don’t get moving.”
“I’m not going anywhere without—”
A figure melted out of the jungle behind her, and Chloe tensed.
“This is Chai. He’s with me.”
“Ma’am.” He turned to Skeet. “We need to go. Radio chatter suggests they’re moving armor into the village.”
“Armor?” Chloe straightened, plants still clutched in her fists. “What kind of armor?”
“The fun kind that goes boom and turns pretty villages into ugly craters,” Skeet said. “Hence the urgent need for dramatic exit, stage east, back to Thailand.”
“I have to get back to Dr. Tobias.”
“And I have to get you out of Myanmar before your brother kills me. Guess which one’s happening first.”
“He’s dying.” Her voice cracked slightly before she controlled it—the same way she’d done at Jake’s wedding when she’d given that speech about family and loss and how Hannah, their sister, would have loved to see this moment. “These plants might be the only thing that can help him.”
She took off, back through the jungle, and Skeet fell into step behind her, Chai following with a harrumph.
Skeet glanced at his friend. What was he going to do, throw her over his shoulder?
“We’ll get there, let her give him the leaves, and, well, leave,” he said quietly to Chai, whose dark eyes suggested he wasn’t amused.
Yeah, Skeet either. Especially since he’d spent the night in the jungle, probably had things crawling in his socks, and frankly, the entire place gave him the jumps.
The jungle pressed close around them—walls of green that dripped with humidity and the particular silence that came just before everything went south. Bird calls had stopped. Even the insects seemed to be holding their breath.
Engines rumbled in the distance, growing stronger with each step he took.
They were walking into an invasion. Oh goody.
“How sick is this Dr. Tobias?” Skeet asked as he navigated a fallen log.
“Alkaloid poisoning. Neurological symptoms getting worse by the hour,” Chloe said, quickening her pace to a run. “These plants are supposed to counteract the toxin.”
“Supposed to?” He also picked up his pace.
“According to the village medicine woman. It’s the only lead we have.”
“Well, that’s reassuring. Nothing like betting someone’s life on folk medicine and wishful thinking.”
She slowed, then shot him a look over her shoulder. “You have a better idea?”
“Yeah. Get him to a real hospital.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, we’re in the middle of nowhere, Myanmar. The nearest real hospital is probably in Chiang Mai.”
“Which is, I might add, in the other direction.”
She ignored him the rest of the hike back.
Smoke pillars rose from the southern edge of Mese, black columns against the sky, flames from mortar rounds incinerating buildings. The acrid smell of cordite mixed with woodsmoke, and the particular stench of burning plastic and rubber from fire incinerating homes.
And . . . he was back in a war zone. He glanced at Chai, who gave him a grim look.
“This is a really bad idea,” Skeet muttered, scanning the tree line for movement as they approached the village outskirts. Hello, every rule of engagement said you moved away from artillery, not toward it.