Show No Fear - By Marliss Melton Page 0,25

she called out, her voice surprisingly strong. The guerrilla leader stopped and turned, eyeing her incredulously. “I’m the one who made you fall,” she added, taking the blame for his slip, “Perhaps you should take your anger out on me, chamo.”

She snapped her mouth abruptly shut, and Gus’s antennae for danger went straight into the air. What had she just called him? Chamo. What was that? Even Carlos looked perplexed.

Buitre cocked his head to one side. “Chamo?” he repeated. “You talk like a Venezuelan bitch.”

Lucy’s face struck Gus as suddenly pale, the confidence she’d displayed only moments ago all but gone. She gave an awkward shrug.

Buitre released Manuel abruptly. “You wish to take his place?” he threatened, marching up to her even as Lucy bravely stood her ground.

Gus stepped between them, pushing Lucy behind him. “Careful,” he warned, staring the man down. “The eyes of the world are upon the FARC at this moment,” he reminded him quietly.

Buitre sneered, pretending Gus’s gentle reminder made no difference to him. But then he spat on the ground at Gus’s feet and stalked off, slamming into his quarters seconds later. The rest of the rebels drifted away.

Gus turned toward Lucy, including Carlos in his questioning look. “What does chamo mean?” he asked her as he led her toward the low burning fire in the fire pit.

“Buddy, pal,” she translated into English. “It’s Venezuelan slang. Sorry,” she added, rubbing her forehead with obvious self-recrimination. “I forgot where I was.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Gus said, putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “No damage done. Come on, let’s check out the sleeping accommodations.”

They all faltered at the sight of Fournier standing at the bungalow door, looking harried. “Is there a problem?” he asked.

“No, no,” Carlos assured him. “Buitre’s a sore loser, that’s all.”

“Ah,” said Fournier, but his troubled gray eyes remained locked on Lucy.

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CHAPTER 6

We’ll sleep here,” Gus decided, choosing the cubicle at the far end of the building, adjacent to a rear exit.

The long, leaf-covered bungalow consisted of cubbies divided by bamboo blinds. The alcove Gus had chosen had probably been passed over by the others because it brushed up against the jungle.

“Then I’ll take this one,” said Carlos, disappearing into the cubicle beside them.

Lucy noted the sparse accommodations without reservation. Each team member had been given a thin mat, a blanket, and mosquito netting. She’d slept in worse conditions in urban settings, and with Gus to keep her warm at night she had nothing to complain about.

Dragging her gaze up from the mat, she found him watching her with a hint of amusement. “Take your clothes off,” he told her in Spanish as he unbuttoned his own jacket. “Jungle ticks,” he reminded her, zapping any erotic images before they had a chance to fully form. “Leeches. We need to search each other daily, when there’s plenty of light to see by.”

“Oh.” She fumbled to release the buttons on her jacket, sneaking a peek at him as his T-shirt came off. Light slipped through the leafy ceiling to dapple his bare chest. All that chest hair and rippling muscle must have made him irresistible to women. She wondered how many there had been, whether he’d ever been as close to any of them as he’d been to her.

“Boots, too?” she asked as he bent over to scrabble at his laces.

“Everything,” he said.

Everything? She complied, watching curiously from the corner of her eye to see if he would remove his boxer briefs. She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed when he didn’t.

“Okay, pay attention,” he said, inspecting their cubicle. “Set your boots over here where you can find them, even in the dark. Never put them on without turning them upside-down and shaking them first.”

She wasn’t sure she really wanted to know, but…“Snakes?” she guessed.

“Bats. Rodents. Beetles. Could be anything.”

“Of course.” She shouldn’t have asked.

“There are several venomous snakes in the jungle, but you’ll probably never see one. Different story with the other creatures.”

As she placed her boots in the corner, he pointed to her clothing. “Never leave your clothes on the floor,” he instructed. “Hang them up. Right there.” He pointed to a hook hammered into the crossbeam.

She followed his directions to the letter, her awareness notching several degrees as they brushed against each other while hanging up their clothing.

“Step over here,” he instructed, drawing her into a patch of sunlight. “Hold your arms up,” he added, running an all-seeing gaze over her torso.

Lucy’s breath caught as he