Knox's Mission: Brotherhood Protectors World (Team Eagle Book 8)

Chapter 1

“You okay, Lorna?” Amy Hunt asked. The research assistant was her best friend, and the reason Amy was here in the Amazon shooting a documentary film.

Lorna clutched her stomach. She did not look good as she shook her head. “I think I’m about to be sick.” She brought her hand up to cover her mouth. “No. I’m definitely going to be sick.”

Amy pointed toward a trash bin in the center of their encampment. Lorna made a run for it as Amy followed. She gathered her friend’s hair, keeping it off her face as Lorna doubled over and emptied the contents of her stomach.

Snapping the rubber band on her wrist, Amy then tugged it off and captured Lorna’s hair in a ponytail.

“I’m sorry,” Lorna managed to get out in between heaves. “You have to go on without me.”

“Don’t be,” Amy patted her friend’s back. Their friendship was the reason Amy was here in the first place. Unease settled in the pit of her stomach. A bad omen? She reached for the silver dollar necklace given to her by her brother and rubbed it between her thumb and forefinger. For the briefest moment, she thought about its twin and the man who now owned it. Then, she tapped three times on the now-attached dog tags, trying to decide what Garrett would have told her to do. If he were here. If he were still wearing the dog tags.

“Go on the mission,” he would have urged. Strange how she could still hear his voice so clearly.

“I’ll catch up to you guys the second I can,” Lorna promised, drawing Amy’s attention back.

“Is there a reason we can’t wait a day or two for you to get better?” Amy was out of her league, traipsing through the jungle. A literal jungle. Not a metaphor. This was the real-life Amazon where half a dozen creatures small enough to hide in a shoe could end her life—not to mention all the jaguars and other top predators she needed to watch out for. Lorna was supposed to be her lifeline during the anaconda documenting expedition and was the only reason Amy had agreed to the pro-bono gig. She tried not to let the old saying, no good deed goes unpunished, derail her.

“Budget, for one,” Lorna said. “Donnie has this planned to a T. He won’t wait.”

Amy twisted her face in surprise. “I thought the two of you were serious about a future together.”

“We are, which is why I wouldn’t ask him to stay back and burn through valuable days and budget,” Lorna said before she turned sheet-white and immediately turned back to the trash bin.

Amy didn’t like the idea of going out to only God knew where into territory she’d never experienced without Lorna. But Donnie was a skilled naturalist and they had an amazing guide in A.J. No one knew the pulse of the Amazon better than him, according to Lorna. Since Amy trusted her friend, against better judgment, she would go along with the decision to move forward if Donnie agreed.

Donnie, who’d been hovering over a map with A.J., walked over a little too casually for Amy’s taste. He was tall, lanky. The twenty-eight-year-old’s shoulders seemed to live up around his ears, as if he were permanently hiding something. A knife with a nine-inch blade was strapped to a thigh holster on his leg. He would look like a mercenary if not for the fact he reminded her so much of Shaggy from the Scooby Doo cartoons.

It was late, getting dark, and Amy was tired. The initial smell of vegetation, moisture, and soil combined with decaying plants was being overpowered by the stench in the trash bin. The jungle smelled of life, she’d read. To her, it smelled more like dark mud and bad coffee. “What do you think about waiting until morning to see how Lorna feels? Maybe she’ll be better by then. Miracles happen.”

Donnie was already shaking his head before she finished. Tiny balls of sweat beaded on his top lip as he checked his watch. “We leave tonight. Soon.”

This might not be a vacation, but Amy hadn’t received a schedule of events. “What’s the rush?”

“Funding,” Donnie said, not bothering to offer comfort to Lorna other than to ask if she would be okay with him carrying on.

“Go,” she urged. “I’ll figure out a way to catch up when I can.”

“You want us to go now?” Amy had thought she would have a minute to sit down, maybe restock supplies and gather her courage before trekking off into the unknown. A shiver rocked her body. She might be from Texas, but she’d grown up in the suburbs. “I haven’t unpacked.”

“There’s no time to get comfortable,” Donnie said with derision. He shot a look at Lorna. Was he mad at her for recommending Amy? For a split-second she considered not following through on the film. Film. Amy realized she should be documenting this moment too.

She pulled out her camera, uncapped the lens, and pointed it at Lorna, who put a hand out to shield her face. Amy mouthed an apology but kept rolling.

“Minutes before entering the jungle to track anacondas, research assistant Lorna Pratt is succumbing to a mystery illness that will sideline her for the start of the expedition.” Amy paused. “The team of Donnie Michaels, a guide known only as A.J., and me will continue on to document the existence and length of the giant deadly green snakes.”

Amy panned over to Donnie. The man finally attempted to comfort his girlfriend with an awkward pat on the back. She cut off the camera before she was the one to vomit at his fakeness.

“I’ll double-check my backpack,” he said before turning to walk away.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to wait with you?” Amy asked her friend.

Lorna braced herself using the sides of the trash bin. “No. You go.”

“It’s still safe out there without you, right?” Amy’s apprehension was well gained. Snakes scared the bejesus out of her.

“As long as you have A.J., you’re better than fine,” Lorna reassured. “Plus, I know where you’re headed. I’ll meet you there once I’m better. I can’t go in like this.”

Amy grabbed a roll of paper towels, pulled off two pieces and then poured water to wet them. She used it to cool her friend’s burning forehead before wiping sweat. “You’re burning up.”

“The ones that come on like a beast are normally fast to run through the system,” Lorna said, before another round of let’s-see-what-Lorna’s-stomach-bile-looks-like happened.

Holding her breath, Amy had to look away or risk joining her friend.

“We need to get moving,” Donnie announced. Amy liked him less and less by the minute. At least she had A.J.

She took a couple of steps away from Lorna so she didn’t breathe in the smells emanating from the trash can and filmed Donnie strutting around like he owned the campsite.

Off camera, Amy whispered, “Take care of yourself.”

Lorna heaved again, and then waved Amy off.

She could do this. She could go into the jungle with two strangers for the sake of her career. She could leave her best friend behind to recover alone, despite everything inside her screaming that she should stick around.

No one had documented an anaconda longer than thirty-three feet. If they could find a larger one, it would make all three of their careers. At thirty-one, Amy was already behind the curve, playing catchup, still slinging drinks at Hank’s Honkey-Tonk, a bar outside of Houston, in order to finance her expensive camera equipment. Hank gave her time off when she needed it without much advanced notice, and as much as she detested wearing Daisy Duke shorts and pigtails, the dress code maximized tips and allowed her to work three nights a week while keeping a roof over her head.

With her camera on, she slowly swept the encampment, pausing on an area of fresh-cut trees near the riverbed.

“The team arrived at this location approximately forty-five minutes ago. Our Pirah? guide. belongs to the only surviving subgroup of the Mura. Pirah?, who are indigenous to the Amazon Rainforest in Brazil, are known for walking into the jungle without tools, weapons, or additional clothing and returning sometimes days later with full baskets of game and fruit. As you can see, A.J. is wearing a pair of button-down shorts similar to what you might find at a local Target back home. The only other thing he’s wearing is a multi-colored beaded necklace similar to the ones others wear.” She panned the camera to him. “He carries a bow and arrow along with a machete to defend us. Nothing else.”

Amy kept recording after walking over to A.J. “Where is your food and water?”

A.J. shook his head. He had thick, black hair in a bowl cut. “I eat if there’s food. If there’s no food, I wait.” He puffed his chest out. His wide smile revealed several missing teeth.

“He is clearly proud of his self-reliance,” Amy said quietly as she zoomed in.“Why do you take on these types of expeditions?”

“Food for my kids,” he responded. He put his hand out flat, indicating a height of about three and a half feet and then four feet tall. “I have a baby on the way.” He held up three fingers. “Mouths to feed.” His face lit up. “Green stuff is good. Money makes the world go round. Right?” He was especially pleased with himself for the last remark.

A.J. is thin and looks more like a teenager than a twenty-seven-year-old with two children and a baby on the way.

“Let’s move out.” Donnie’s impatience was written all over his expression.

Amy panned to him and then to the waiting canoe, if it could be called that.

Donnie had pulled his hair back in a ponytail that hung between his shoulder blades.

Amy had no idea what Lorna saw in the guy, but she said they’d been discussing having a family together someday. Amy shrugged as she kept rolling. To each their own.

The river had a unique, musky scent. Amy wasn’t sure what she’d expected to smell. Death? In an environment like the Amazon, would a carcass be picked apart in a matter of hours? A day? Any smell would mean death had been recent and was probably a sign they needed to get the hell out of there.

To go where?

All her doubts about being here flooded back. Her safety net was gone, at least for a day or two until Lorna could catch up.

“This way,” A.J. said, his voice more of a whistle than a tone. He led them to the long canoe, which essentially was a hollowed-out tree trunk with palm fronds covering the inside, forming an upside-down thatched roof effect.

A.J. urged her to get inside, his narrow gaze and compressed lips outlining his impatience as she filmed the experience. Distracted, the canoe swayed. A.J. grunted. Amy dropped her camera but the guide swooped it up before the expensive piece of equipment hit the palms. His quick reaction strengthened her faith in him further. Amy took in a deep breath for fortitude. This seemed like a good time to remind herself that A.J. was a professional. He did these types of expeditions all the time.

She tried to take the camera back but he shook his head as he held onto the side of the canoe with his other hand. He gestured for her to sit down.

Good idea.

Amy eased down, careful not to tip the canoe, and then stabilized herself by sitting cross-legged in the dead center of the watercraft. It was then that A.J. handed over the camera with a hint of a smile. His serious expression concerned her, but she’d reasoned that she didn’t want her life in the hands of a goofball. And, according to Lorna, there was no one who understood the Amazon better than A.J.

Once all three were onboard, A.J. paddled them into the unknown. Sounds changed as chirps, whistles, and monkey calls drowned out every other noise. The thought of what might be in the trees, other than monkeys, rocked her body with an involuntary shiver. What lurked below in the murky brown-green waters caused icy fingers to grip her spine.

The only explanation for her being here was desperation. Her life had come to this. To chasing monsters to kick off her career. Would a 9-5 desk job have been so bad?

Now, she really shivered.

Yes. The answer was a resounding yes.

Besides, not every documentary would be filmed in a destination like this one. This was a ticket, like the same kind of ticket you get on an airplane. The airport isn’t your destination, neither is the aircraft. They are a means to take you where you want to end up.

Sliding through the water, Amy kept her hands in her lap, gripping her camera. She searched the darkness for movement or a pair of eyes in the water or from above. That was the thing about the Amazon, predators were all around. She’d never felt so vulnerable or realized what a speck the human race was in an environment like this one where every living creature was fair game.

After what felt like hours, monkey calls filled the air.

A.J. slowed the canoe and listened. Amy’s eyes had adjusted to the darkness long before now, but there wasn’t much to see without a hint of light in the dark canopy.

“Mercenaries,” A.J. warned.

“Or porcupine,” Donnie added. He immediately went flat inside the long canoe.

“Should I know what that means?” Amy whispered.

“Those monkey calls aren’t monkeys,” Donnie whispered with more than a hint of frustration in his voice.

“Then what are they?” Amy asked. Excuse her for not knowing why that posed a threat. She hadn’t been told the location of the shoot until she met Lorna in Manau International Airport. Before then, she’d been led to believe this documentary was about indigenous women who left their tribes to live in civilization.

“Could be a Manu tribe that kills people who enter their territory by shooting them with so many arrows, they look like a porcupine when it’s over,” Donnie explained with that same level of disgust at her lack of knowledge. Was he being serious? Scaring her? Or misinformed?

Either way, he was still a jerk.

Did he not get the memo that she’d been tricked into this location? Because she was one hundred percent certain he’d been standing five feet away when Lorna had grabbed Amy by the forearms, pleaded with her to hear her out, and then went on to explain how they weren’t filming women but anacondas in their natural habitat in the jungle.

Amy had to call for reinforcements when there was a spider in her house. Out in the Flooded Forest where they were heading, a quick internet search had revealed tarantulas floated on the surface of the river.

Lorna had been right about one thing, though. Amy wouldn’t have sold her piano—her last item of any value—to buy an airplane ticket to traipse across the jungle like Jane from the Tarzan movies if she’d known the truth about where they were going and what she would be filming.

Call her quirky, but she wanted to live long enough to enjoy the career she would have once she hit the right note with her documentaries.

And now she had to be worried about being porcupined—however slight the possibility—by an indigenous tribe who didn’t want her here almost as much as she wanted to be anywhere else? Could there be a more awful way to die? And then she remembered the jaguars who would eat her alive. Or the bullet ants who wouldn’t necessarily kill her but would cause so much pain with one sting that she might wish she could die.

Could this trip get any better?

Using a special lens, she turned on her camera without using a flash or light feature. There was no reason to give their enemies an exact location to pinpoint with those arrowheads on the off chance Donnie was right about the monkey calls. Gun-wielding Columbian mercenaries were far more likely to be a threat, but she wasn’t taking any chances.

“Where are we anyway?” Amy asked, figuring Google Maps may be able to pinpoint her location or get her out of here.

“I’m not sure,” Donnie said, a little less venom in his voice this time at least. Was he being nice as some sort of last act?

Amy’s mind raced as she white-knuckled her camera. Lying on her back, she documented the sounds of the water, the monkeys, and the other chirps and songs of the jungle.

As much as the noises freaked her out, they were probably better than complete silence.

A thought struck. Here, she could be killed as easily as she accidentally stepped on a fire ant back home in the suburbs. A surprising trill of excitement rushed through her, cutting through some of her fear. A strange sensation followed. As silly as it might sound, there was peace in knowing she was part of a living, breathing ecosystem. One that leveled the playing field.

The realization struck her as odd, that she would somehow find peace in a moment of panic. But there was nothing she could do to stop a tribesman who would shoot arrows at her on sight. Maybe for the first time, she understood her brother Garrett a little better too. Was this feeling the one he’d chased when he signed up for the military and then went on to become an Army Ranger? Him and his best friend? Amy hadn’t thought of Knox Preston in months. Thinking about him now sent very different sensations rocketing through her. Was her brother at peace when he’d died in the helicopter crash that had claimed so many lives?

Funny, because he’d never treated her any different than Garrett’s annoying little sister, four years their junior. Too young, he’d said, to follow them on their ‘adventures’ through the creek behind their homes. Too young, he’d said, to hang out with them in the tents they’d constructed in the backyard. Too young, he’d said, to do anything but go inside and play with dolls.

Dolls?

Amy might not relish the thought of diving headfirst into the Amazon jungle, but she would rather hop on her bike and jump ramps than stay inside and play with dolls. He’d known that too. He’d only said it to push her buttons, and he’d done a damn fine job.

What would Knox say about her being in the jungle now? What about her brother Garrett? Would he have warned her not to go?

What if she didn’t come back out? Would her mom survive losing both of her children a little more than a year apart? Garrett’s death had knocked her legs out from underneath her. Maurine Hunt was just now regaining her footing. Now they would never know the news he’d said he wanted to tell them in person.

A.J. whistled. Donnie sat up again.

“Looks like we’re in the clear for now,” A.J. said.

What would they have done without their guide to warn them? Thankfully, they didn’t have to find out since he was along for the entire journey.

Hours passed. Amy wasn’t sure how many as she tried to memorize normal monkey calls so she could detect a difference from mercenaries or the tribe’s call that would porcupine her. She was still worried about Lorna. Was her friend feeling better? Worse?

The two were going to have a serious sit down once this was over. Lorna hadn’t prepared Amy nearly well enough for this ‘adventure’ as she’d called it. Adventure wasn’t the word Amy would use to describe this boat ride.

A.J. stopped at a patch of green in what felt like an endless lake. Were those treetops springing out of the water only a few feet high? How deep was this water?

Stars reflected in the water, giving the impression Amy was so close to the heavens she could reach up and touch the sky. A blanket of sparkling velvet lay in front of her, twinkling, reflecting. Green foliage that resembled rolling hills reached toward the stars.

“The Flooded Forest?” she whispered, afraid to speak much above a whisper.

“Looks like we made it,” Donnie said louder. She had to stop herself from shushing him. He was somewhat of an expert on the Amazon according to Lorna. Would her friend be well enough to join them tomorrow and see this? For selfish reasons, Amy hoped so. But also because she wanted her friend to be well enough to experience this place. It might not be Amy’s cup of tea, but Lorna lit up when she revealed the true destination. Her eyes widened and there was a spark that had been missing recently.

A.J. exited first, stepping lightly onto the patch of green that was roughly eight feet by ten feet. Stepping out of the canoe and onto the greenspace was like walking on a waterbed. The whole ground moved in a wave like she walked on top of some kind of green ocean. The wobble caused her to reach for the side of the canoe to stabilize herself. Falling into the glassy water wasn’t an option. This scenery was like walking into a fairy tale but dangers beyond her wildest imagination lurked below the surface. Of that she was certain. Gripping the side of the canoe helped with balance.

Her gaze flew to A.J., who had locked onto something. Spine stiff, eyes focused, stress lines cracked his forehead. What did he see? A porcupine tribe member? A mercenary? A jaguar?

Panic gripped her as she followed his gaze. Saw nothing. At least, nothing she recognized as a threat. What did he see that she couldn’t?

“Donnie,” she whispered, gesturing with her head to clue him into what was going on with A.J. Maybe Donnie could figure out what caused A.J. to stand there, frozen, locked onto something imaginary or real.

Donnie exited the canoe, shrugging on his backpack after a casual glance at the guide. “It’s fine.” He lost balance, slipped, and fell on his ass. “We’ll make camp here. A.J. says there’s a good chance we can find an anaconda tonight.”

A shiver raced down her spine at the thought of a thirty-plus-foot snake slithering through water that was a little too close for comfort. It was still too dark for her to see clearly for very far. A snake could be behind her before she realized it. The thought had her checking, just in case.

As Amy scanned the area behind her, A.J. said something to Donnie as he passed by and hopped into the canoe. A.J.’s gaze was laser-like, fixed on something Amy could not see.

He paddled five feet away from the green ground cover that she now realized was a thick coating of moss. And then ten feet. Fifteen.

A.J. kept going until he disappeared.

“Shit,” Donnie muttered. “Shit. Shit. Shit.”

“What did he say?” Amy asked, grabbing hold of Donnie’s forearm.

“Something out there spooked him,” Donnie said, jerking free from her grasp and then raking his fingers through his hair. The hopeless look sent more of those icy shivers racing through her. “Which means he’s not coming back.”

Amy’s first thought about dying was immediately followed by wondering how her mom would survive the loss.

A noise to her left shocked her out of her reverie and shot her pulse sky-high. Donnie started after something. What was moving over there?