Читать книгу Hit Hard - Amy J. Fetzer - Страница 8

The gunshot went past his hip and into the bottom of the boat. Sam was on her, tearing the pistol from her. “Christ, woman!”

“Oh God. You lied! Why would you lie?” She backed away from him. Man, he looked scary right now. “That was really dumb.”

“Don’t point a weapon unless you plan to kill something!”

“From what I’ve witnessed, that’s your job.”

“Do you ever shut up?” He popped in a fresh clip. He’d miscounted, dammit.

Viva reddened with embarrassment; it was a phrase she heard often.

“Guys, we’re sinking.”

A slow fountain of water bubbled in the side of the boat. Viva lurched across and stuck her finger in it.

“Oh, that helps.”

“It stopped, didn’t it? God, you’re such a pessimist.”

Sam rubbed his mouth and looked ahead. “Head there.”

“I see it.”

There was a house on stilts, nearly in the water, its dock half sinking below the surface. Two children fished from the end, sitting more in the water than on the wood. The men rowed toward it and in range, Sam grabbed the post and swung them closer. He leapt from the boat, then reached for her. She was still stretched to keep her finger in the hole, and staring up at him, mutinous.

“Give it up, Viva.”

She climbed out under her own power. “You’re irritating, Sam Wyatt, and not very nice.”

“You shot at me, for crissake.”

“But I missed,” she said as if that made all the difference.

It didn’t. She was an accident waiting to happen, Sam thought, and couldn’t wait to get rid of her and find Riley’s shooter.

“Besides,” she kept on without missing a beat, “after what I’ve seen today, you’re a walking testimony to bad karma all the way around.”

Max stepped onto the dock, and within seconds, the boat went nose up before sinking beneath the surface. Brown-skinned boys on the platform barely noticed them, as if they’d seen men with weapons every day.

Viva knelt near the children, asking if they’d caught anything, how long they’d been out here, did they see any bad men with guns pass through here? The boys answered until the last question, then peered around her at the two men. “I know they look scary, but they won’t hurt you. The train to Bangkok is near?”

The boys answered in rapid, choppy Thai, pointing out directions. All up hill. They spoke for a few more minutes before she slipped them a couple bhat, then straightened.

Sam looked at her like she’d grown another head, or in his case, a new brain. “What?”

“You’re fluent.”

She laughed. “There are about forty dialects. Nobody is fluent in Thai.” She walked off the dock, finger combing her hair. Her boots squished with water, the butt of her shorts sagging. “The road is this way, a few kilometers. I’m going to hitch a ride or something. Thanks for the rescue.” She waved over her head.

“We shouldn’t let her go alone.” Max frowned at her as she moved past the house to the left toward the barely visible path that rose nearly straight up the hillside.

Sam was examining his rifle. It was useless until he could clean the sludge out of it. “You want to keep her around? She’s trouble.”

“We didn’t get them all. They’ll hunt us and her.”

And she’d be noticeable. A redhead in Thailand. Worse than a Yankee at a Texas barbeque.

“And we brought her into this,” Sam admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “We have to at least get her wherever she wants.” He looked up as she peeled off her wet shirt, then wrung it out. Beneath it, she wore a sports bra thing that showed off her tan and narrow waist. For a moment, he wanted her to face him, let him see what that baggy shirt had hidden, what he’d felt pressed to him.

Why did she have to be a redhead?

Then she shook her head like a dog, the motion making her lose her footing. She righted herself, then walked more stiffly. He imagined her cheeks reddening, and Sam’s lips curved. Damn if she wasn’t the most entertaining nightmare he’d ever had.

“We’re stuck with her for now.” He called out, but she didn’t respond, melting into the forest, alone. “Christ, see what I mean?” Sam stormed after her, muttering, “God gave a frog a brain and shared half of it with her.”

Max didn’t follow immediately, his amusement dying as his gaze slid over the terrain, the way they’d come. They’d just pissed off the Thai mafia.

Viva was the least of their problems.

Inside the dense branches, she hid, watching the small boat slide to the dock on flat water. She couldn’t hit them at this distance, but knew where they’d go. They had little choice but to cross the jungle. She studied their faces, put them to memory. Her master would make certain they’d never speak of this. She lingered a moment longer, then began the careful climb to the ground.

Below her, the bodies of tho thahan were like tumbled matchsticks, spent and useless. She’d take nothing from the soldiers. They weren’t hers. Her foot touched the ground, soundless, and she quickly shifted beyond the dead, her ears tuned to the predators prancing slowly from the darkness to come feast on the still warm flesh.

The jungle wrapped her like a lover, her body glistening with its liquid touch as she moved quickly, her destination preordained, her task far from done.

The river vanished behind Viva, closed out by the dense tropical forest.

She didn’t hear him move up behind her, but she felt it. His presence like a whisper, sensation without substance. It was the most amazing feeling she’d ever experienced, and she tipped her head slightly, acknowledging him, yet she said nothing.

He moved quickly abreast of her, hacking mercilessly at the jungle when the path narrowed. “Keep moving, Viva.” He walked backwards a couple steps, weapon aimed.

She glanced, stumbled. “They’re still out there, you think?”

“Definitely.” Sam hurried her forward.

“But you put the fear of automatic weapons in them.”

“We were just lucky. This is their playground.” He signaled Max to stay to the left.

Hurriedly, she slipped her shirt back on and started buttoning it.

“Now that’s just a shame.”

Her gaze jerked his, confused till his gaze flicked to her breasts cupped in tight spandex. “Back off, Wyatt.”

“No problem there, ma’am, you bite.”

She blinked, then smiled brightly, making her eyes light up and turn her expression from pretty to downright electric. The power of it hit Sam dead center of his chest and left heat snaking down his body.

Man, he didn’t need that, not now.

“This hasn’t been a normal day.”

For her, maybe, he thought, watching his six.

Viva noticed that though he appeared to be relaxed, he wasn’t; his gaze darted around them, picked a new spot at each new scan. The machete was slung at his hip, and his finger was on the trigger of the rifle. And without touching him, she knew his shoulders were tight. “Who are you, Sam Wyatt?” she asked softly.

He simply watched the land, not responding.

“Listen, Sparky, I’m not stupid…” Viva pushed on ahead of him.

He blinked. Sparky?

“…so don’t play dumb. You bargained with at least a hundred fifty, maybe two hundred carat diamond back there. Although…cut it would be about half that. Which is still very substantial and worth several million, but that’s if the cutter could find the table and split it with the least amount of fragmentation and—”

He caught her arm, keeping her with him. “Lower your voice. What do you know about gems?”

“Not much.” At his scowl, she whispered, “I worked with a gemologist for about a year.”

“How’d you go from a dig to gemology?”

Trying to meet his long strides, she gathered her composure for the assault she always received when people learned how many different jobs and career starts—and failures—she’d had. “Unemployment.”

Sam saw the humiliation in her pretty face and wondered how someone so sharp could ever be out of a job. “You have a degree in archeology?”

“No, paleoclimatology.”

“That’s as useless as it gets.”

“Not if you want to know the weather conditions a million years ago.” And be bored to madness, she thought. “It was wet everywhere, by the way, then got surprisingly cold.”

Sam went to push back some vines and she grabbed his hand before he did. “Don’t touch that!” She found a stick and pushed up the leaves of a tall plant. She showed him the millipedes covering the leaves. “They secrete a fluid that will blister your skin.”

His expression questioned.

“Two semesters of tropical botany.” She walked away. “And I’ve been here long enough to experience my own stupidity.”

Sam’s brows shot up. A woman open to her faults, he thought, rare, yet more closed about her assets. His gaze lowered over her spine to the tight curves of her rear. Sweet. She had assets. In one form or another.

“Now that you’re done inspecting my behind…”

His gaze flashed up. “Who said I was done?”

She flushed delicately. “You’re changing the subject.”

“Man, you’re slick.” Sam looked the way they’d come, frowning.

“I don’t let go of a bone I want to pick either. So what are you, CIA, NSA? Some sort of secret American ‘if I tell you, I’ll have to kill you’ Intelligence?”

“None of the above.”

She blinked. “You really are a criminal?”

Sam stopped abruptly, turned, his gaze raking the hillside again. He nodded to Max, then touched his ear. I hear them too. He signaled, then grasped her arm, hurrying her up the hillside.

“Sam?” She ran with him.

Suddenly, he jerked her to the ground, put a finger to his lips, then, squatting, he rotated. Max was only a couple yards down the incline. Max pointed, and Viva saw figures moving up the hill. There had to be five at least, spread out and combing the ground. Crouched behind him, Viva’s heartbeat picked up. It wasn’t over.

Sam checked his ammo, signaling to Max. When he made a cutting motion across his throat, she thought, that can’t be good. He pointed to his eyes, then to them as a pair. Max nodded, and backed up the hill.

Slowly, he mouthed, then tapped his lips. Quiet. She obeyed, watching her steps. They were coming for her. That she hadn’t killed Half Ear wouldn’t matter to those men. They wanted revenge. Oh God, if Sam got hurt—she swallowed, fear chasing up her spine and pumping adrenaline.

Ahead she could see the sunlight where the jungle thinned, the roasting sun already cooking her skin under her wet clothes as they climbed. Freedom is up there, she thought, then felt his hand on her back, warm and pulling on her shirt. She stopped, keeping low. Sam’s gaze shifted downhill, to Max, then to her.

“We’re toast, aren’t we?”

He leaned close. “When I signal,” he said into her ear, “I want you to run like hell and keep running.”

She gripped his forearm. “Alone? Without you?”

Something clamped deep inside his chest just then, squeezing. “You have to. We’re nearly out of ammo and this isn’t your fight.”

“It is. I started it,” she whispered. “I’d be dead without you. Don’t you think I know that?”

He leaned back enough to look her in the eyes. Tears welled in them, smoky green and desperate with fear. He slid his hand to her hair, pushing it back. “You’re so damn brave, you can do this.”

“From your mouth to God’s ears.” Then she looked down the hill. They were creeping closer. Max was nearly abreast of their position. She met Sam’s gaze, the softness in his dark eyes comforting. Another fine mess I’ve made. “I wish I could do something to help.”

“You can get away from this.” He turned toward the jungle, taking a position deep inside a cluster of bushes. “Be ready.”

Beside him, Viva saw the men approaching, the top of a head, the swing of a machine gun. And he was going to face them alone? Courage like that simply stunned her. “Sam?”

“Yeah.”

“Outlaw or not,” she whispered, then met his gaze, “you’ve made an impression.” Her lips curved in a message that vised down on his heart.

“Darlin’, you can’t help but make one.” His gaze combed her features, and suddenly, Sam couldn’t let her go, not yet. He cupped the back of her head, and kissed her.

The contact was electric. Shocking him. And trapped in the hot jungle, he tasted pure energy, a quick heat crackling down his body as her mouth rolled eagerly over his. Her fingers slid into his hair at his nape, turning it intimate, personal. Then her tongue pushed between his lips and Sam was lost. Caving in. He devoured as much of her as he could and she made a little sound deep in the back of her throat. Sam drank that in, too—till it was dangerous, till his senses clouded, and a second longer would get them both killed.

He drew back abruptly, like the tearing of a limb. “Jesus.” He swallowed. “Don’t talk,” he groaned when she opened her mouth.

But Viva couldn’t, her breathing labored as her gaze raked his face. Her thumb smoothed his lower lip. Her heart would never pound the same again.

He forced his attention down the hill. “Get ready.”

Viva eased away, reluctant to leave him.

She glanced back one last time. He sighted down the rifle, adjusted his stance. Blindly, he reached behind himself, and Viva gripped his hand for an instant, quick and tight.

Then, when his next shot came, she bolted up the hill.

Kukule Ganga Dam

Kalawana, Sri Lanka

Engineers and construction experts crawled over the ruins of the dam, trying to find the source of the fissure that sent eight hundred million gallons of water through the valley, killing thousands. Help came from everywhere—England, the US, Germany, Spain. Dr. Tom Rhodes wasn’t stunned by the outpouring, only over the break in the dam. It was far left of the southern side, an area well fortified. He’d been on the first survey team before the construction at the request of Dr. Risha Inan.

Squatting, Tom glanced up as Risha made her way toward him, her hair looped through the back of a baseball cap, her shirt and shorts already dirty from crawling around the ruins. She still took his breath away, he thought. Her flawless skin, the smooth mocha color of it, and her eyes—she had the most expressive eyes of any woman he’d known. And he’d known her well.

The attraction was still there, though she’d married someone else, someone Hindi. Tom took it as a personal affront then, but knew now that she’d been right to break it off. His career was in the US, hers was here, helping her people. Neither of them would bend and for a love that had grown quickly, it had died just as easily.

He watched her approach and swiped a cloth over his forehead and throat.

She stopped a couple yards from him, adjusting her footing on the wet, broken concrete. “You will never grow accustomed to the heat, Thomas.”

“What’s your secret?”

“Don’t fight it.”

He made a sound of impossibility, and stood. They’d been sidestepping their personal feelings since he’d arrived after the flood. It was good, he thought, this barrier, because he wasn’t here just to help the engineers find the problem. His position gave him access to vital information the Sri Lankan government might not pass along so quickly. Though the government was doing its best to get aid to the victims, intelligence was slow and the US was interested. But it wasn’t enough. Tiger rebels were in the hills near the river when the dam broke. Several bodies had been identified, along with many Sri Lankan soldiers.

“Are you ready for a preliminary report?” she asked.

He shook his head. “There is nothing wrong with this dam, the concrete strength, the metal skeleton. I was here during the construction. It’s sound. It shouldn’t have broken.”

“Thomas, you know a small fissure, given the pressure per square inch, could very well have worsened in a short time.”

He was already shaking his head. “There are no cracks, no residue left from explosive charges. A dam this size doesn’t just break. Your government has an inspection team go over this dam a couple times a month. You have crews watching the pressure and water flow. If something changed in the days before the break, why didn’t they see it?”

“Charges could have been set recently. And we’ve considered that because some Tigers were close, they were perhaps waiting for the blast, and wanted to witness their destruction.”

“Possible.”

“The residue likely washed away with the water flow.”

Again, he shook his head. “But the break in the section is still intact.” He rose and gestured below. The dam had broken from beneath the rim. “And I’ve done a dozen chemical residue tests.”

She frowned, suspicious. That wasn’t his job.

“Do you want my help or not? The US is prepared to pour funds into helping your country, Risha, and I’m the first wave.”

She looked over the broken dam. In spots, the water still flowed and farther inland workers struggled to create a levee in the basin. This was the water supply for the entire region.

“Without a crack, the only thing that would have caused this type of damage—”

She looked at him sharply.

“Is a drop in temperature, and I’m talking near freezing.”

She stiffened. “Impossible.”

“Yes, I know. Or sensors would have gone off. They didn’t.”

She frowned and he still adored that intense expression. He could see her thoughts ticking off scenarios.

“We built it and people are dead. It is our fault, Thomas.” She finally looked at him, the sadness in her eyes clear and bitter. She felt too much, he thought, but it was hard not to. Below them, workers sprayed the area with a bacteria killer before they unearthed more bodies.

“What do you need?”

He pointed to the concrete. “We have to get into the tunnels. That would be the best place to start.”

“Not up here?”

“The dam break didn’t have anything to do with construction.”

Her look said she doubted that. “Then how?”

“That’s our job. Come on.”

Risha pulled her radio from her belt and spoke, informing her team that they needed pumps and workers to empty the tunnels. It would take days, but Thomas was a brilliant man and she trusted his judgment.

Viva met the top of the ridge and hesitated when she saw more jungle. A mile to the road, she thought and ran into the forest. She batted away branches and prayed they’d survive, yet felt they wouldn’t. There were too many of the bandits. A hundred yards or so in she stopped to catch her breath, then pressed on. She didn’t get more than a few feet when a man appeared in front of her.

Instantly, she darted in another direction and confronted another small man. She turned and was surrounded, men dropping from the trees. Hill tribes, she thought, by the look of their clothing and old weapons aimed at her.

Sam’s going to be really pissed if I get killed today.

She put her hands up. “Help, Jao Pho, two Americans are trapped.” She pointed and the first man, wearing a perpetual frown, followed the line of her arm. “Help, please!” She closed her eyes briefly and prayed she got the dialect right. When she opened her eyes, she was alone.

Sam aimed carefully and fired, swiveling to match his sight on the bandits. They’d taken cover at the first shot, but a few were bold. Max had his automatic off, firing one shot at a time to conserve ammo, moving closer to Sam’s position with each blast. A shot spiked leaves above his head and Sam ducked, taking deeper cover, but the muzzle flash gave his position away. And theirs.

Max backed up, signaling and Sam mimicked. They couldn’t get them all, but enough for them to escape. He counted time, giving Viva plenty, and in tandem, Sam and Max raced up the steep hill. He heard a grunt, a rustle in the bushes, then Max was moving with him. They stopped, turned, and fired, then overtook another twenty yards. Sam prayed he didn’t find Viva anywhere near here. He glanced at Max, his pulse staggering when he realized he was covered in blood, but still moving.

Sam had a couple bullets left, his headset and radio wet. They were pretty much screwed. A bandit ran out into the open, and Sam aimed, but never got off a shot. The man went still and stiff with shock, a dart in the center of his throat.

He twisted sharply—and saw Viva. Damn woman. She waved, and on either side of her was a line of locals, covering them. Sam took off, racing up the incline, grabbing vines and propelling himself forward. She reached for him.

“I told you to run!”

“Yeah, well, that wasn’t working for me.”

He dove over her, then pulled her back with him as the tribesmen opened fire. He pushed her low, then, on his stomach Sam moved up beside the tribesmen.

Sam spent his last rounds, taking out a man who wouldn’t give up. Alongside him, the tribesmen aimed slow and careful, expending precious rounds and getting the job done. As good as a squad of Marines, he thought, as they watched for movement. The leader nodded, then signaled. The men eased away from the edge, then rose, hurrying backwards into the jungle for a few yards before turning into its darkness.

The leader grabbed Viva as he passed, pulling her with him. Sam was on him, prying his hands off her. The man scowled, let go, urging them on, and went farther into the jungle.

Max approached, and when Viva saw the blood, she was on him, patting him down for the wound. “I’m not hit, he just got close enough to bleed on me.”

“Jesus, and you call me a thrill junkie,” Sam said, pulling off his hat and rubbing his head before replacing it.

“Got my radio, though.” Max held up a tangle of wires and shattered plastic. He tossed it.

Viva looked between the two. Their calm was amazing.

Sam checked his weapon, one bullet left, then motioned Viva ahead. This wasn’t over yet. The tribal leader kept looking back at them, more specifically at Viva. “Got your own tribe now?”

“They found me. The hill tribes rarely get involved with outsiders.” She didn’t know what changed their minds, but was more than grateful for it.

“You’re certifiably insane,” he said.

She cocked a look at him, smiling. “We’ve established that.”

Sam chuckled shortly and didn’t know what to make of her. He wouldn’t be breathing now if she hadn’t disobeyed him. “Did your daddy paddle your butt a lot when you were a kid?”

An odd look flashed over her features, then turned to a smile. “No, he spoiled me. Which is probably why I’m here and not married with children in the States.”

“And why aren’t you?”

“I suffer from eternal boredom. Except today, of course.”

“You could have been killed.”

“You too.” She leaned out to look pointedly at Max. “My backup was better than yours.”

“Go ahead, gloat.” Max edged closer, inclined his head to Sam. “He’s too stubborn to admit it, but you saved our collective asses back there.” Max moved on ahead.

Viva stole a look at Sam. He was just staring and the look had power, moving over her and almost stripping her bare. She was right before. The man was intense.

They broke eye contact when the tribe leader made a noise, gestured.

Viva smiled. “I think we’re invited to dinner.”

“Good, I could use a beer,” he said.

The land cleared, and they stepped into the small village. Surrounding an old community well were large huts without doors, the roofs thatched with palms. People came out slowly, smiling and greeting the men. A few dropped dead monkeys into a pile. Women came to her, touching her hair, her clothes. Viva chatted, took the offer of water, and glanced back at Sam. Through binoculars, he sighted the way they’d come.

“Does he ever give an inch?”

Squatting, Max shook his head, removing his pack.

Sam lowered the glasses, glanced, and couldn’t help his smile. Though the women pulled her toward a thatched house, her gaze was on him.

“We’re going to have a girl chat, you know, makeup, hairstyles. Exchange a few recipes.” The women chatted incessantly, tugging her along. “Don’t leave without me, Sam.”

Her plea was laced with a little fear. No, he wouldn’t leave her till he could get her to Bangkok to deliver the bracelet. After that, it was just too dangerous for her to be near him. Today had proven it.

Sam pulled off his hat, swiped the back of his wrist across his forehead. “Phan’s death, it was almost ritual. They didn’t kill, just cut him up to bleed to death.”

Max pulled smashed bananas from his pack and tossed them aside. “And whoever shot that dart was protecting whatever information Half Ear was going to offer up. Or Rohki.”

Sam agreed. “Just before Half Ear died, he said, it will cost you more than…” Sam shrugged, trying to fill in the blanks.

“…more than diamonds,” Max said. “More to find Rohki, to get information? It could be anything.”

“I’m thinking more than that to get into this weapons deal.”

Max’s head came up. “Possible. It’s just rumor.”

“Hear a rumor often enough and there has to be some truth to it. I say we back up and regroup, start with the jet. It was high-priced transport. I’m betting they’re transporting a lot of shit under the wire.” Sam slid off his Camelbak and tipped the clear pipe into his mouth, squeezing the pack. The water was hot, but wet. He handed it to Max, then patted himself down for extra bullets, coming up empty.

He straightened away from the tree, his gaze on the sky. “Great, they have air support.” A chopper.

The pair dropped to the ground, taking cover, and Sam aimed his pistol. Villagers looked to the sky and scattered, grabbing children and melting into the jungle.

Viva came out of the hut, running to Sam. “Oh, tell me that’s not what I think it is.”

“It is,” Sam said. The sound of blades beating the air sent an almost euphoric feeling through him, yet he wondered how he could get it to set down so they could overtake the craft. One bullet put that thought in the stupid-and-deadly pile. He readied to take out the gas tanks.

Viva was beside him under the trees. Behind them, the village was deserted. “Shouldn’t we be hiding? Running with them?”

“Too late, they’ll pick us off.”

“You have one bullet left! What do you think you can do?”

“Get ready for a big explosion.”

Viva felt that uncontrollable fear rise up again, tightening her skin, pushing her heartbeat up several notches. She was really tired of this shoot-run-shoot business.

Then the big, sleek black chopper came into view, low and slow over the area. It was armed with some dangerous-looking guns, aimed directly at them.