a dead Lucy.
First, though, he needed to pull back before the Elite Guards laid hands on him.
One by one, the men were finding their fulfillment, further degrading the females by ejaculating on them.
“Hey, Ponce, cover for me here so I can get a turn,” called the man on watch.
“Take the bitch with the breasts like papayas,” urged his companion, crunching over to take his place.
Now was Gus’s chance to flee. As the men traded places, he reversed direction, scuttling like a crab into the dark void. He crashed into a bush, turned, and scurried around it, slipping down the spongy ground on his butt.
“What was that?” he heard one of the men ask.
“Probably a tigre,” joked his companion, using the local word for jaguar. “Go on before the girl faints.”
Their voices faded at the same time that the foliage abruptly cleared, and Gus found himself on the path.
Now what? he wondered, coming slowly to his feet.
It was so intensely dark he found it difficult to keep his balance. Sliding one foot forward, he inched into what he believed was the right direction only to bump into a tree. He modified and tried again, eventually hitting a wall of rock.
At last, when the sounds of the camp had faded, he sat on the path and removed the sat phone from his boot, powering it on. Faint blue light drove back the darkness. He replaced the heel and stood up, hoping for a signal.
Of course not. Apparently the only way to ping the satellite with this piece-of-shit technology was to stand in a clearing. He’d have to try again when he got back to camp, and the only way to get there was to use the phone as a flashlight, which would drain the battery.
But he still had a backup battery in the other boot.
Pointing the display in front of him, he started walking.
A crash of thunder made him jump. In the next minute, rain poured down on him like water coursing through a million drain pipes.
It was all he could do to keep the phone dry while using it to guide him back to camp.
FOR THE HUNDREDTH TIME, Lucy peeked outside for any sign of Gus’s return. Lightning crackled, illumining the cluster of ugly buildings and the clearing by the trail. She realized David was manning the fifty-caliber machine gun tonight.
Crouched under a tarp, he did his best to ward off raindrops as they pelted the muddy ground around him.
What was taking Gus so long? How would he find his way back in this deluge? Worry knotted her intestines. He was probably hunkered down somewhere, she reasoned, waiting the rain out. She forced herself to lie back down, aware that she was giving herself a headache.
Damn it, no wonder she preferred to work alone.
Minutes later, she shot to her elbows. She hadn’t heard or felt a thing, but she sensed Gus’s approach. The leafy flap twitched, and a dark shadow crept into the bungalow, easing under their blinds to stream water onto their cubby floor.
She could hear his teeth chattering. Shaking off the covers, she ducked under the mosquito net to help him peel off his sodden clothing—boots, socks, jacket, T-shirt, pants, everything. She diligently hung them up as he huddled on the floor, shivering.
Then she drew him into their nest, tossing the blanket over them both as she wrapped her body around his, speeding him to recovery.
Moment by moment, his shudders subsided but his tension did not. “Better?” she asked.
“I’m good.”
“What did you find out?”
He hesitated, notching her concern higher. “You know those guys in the pea green uniforms who brought the bags of beans the other day?”
“Of course.”
“I found out who they are,” he told her grimly.
“Who?” Dread made her skin feel tight. She knew what he was going to say before he even said it.
“Venezuelan Elite Guard,” he corroborated.
Lucy’s blood flashed from hot to cold. In her mind’s eye the lieutenant’s fist slammed into her face, making her flinch.
“Luce, I think you should leave the mountain,” he added flatly. “We can’t risk you running into these guys.”
“What? No, I’m not going to leave.” The idea was unacceptable, regardless of the fear chasing through her.
“Listen to me. What if we run into these guys and one of them recognizes you? What then?”
“That’s not going to happen,” she hissed. “The last thing the FARC want is for our UN team to discover who’s aiding them.”
“We can’t take the chance.”
“No!” She shoved at his chest, pushing him onto his back as