Show No Fear - By Marliss Melton Page 0,53

her head. Well, yeah, I work for the CIA, of course I’m a liar.

Where the hell was Gus? Just because she was holding her own here didn’t mean she wanted to take on Buitre solo. Didn’t teamwork include rescuing the ass of your partner from scumbag rebels?

Without warning, he raised his pistol to her face. The safety was off, one in the chamber, and his finger was on the trigger. Lucy flinched, her thoughts flashing back to the warehouse. Fear punched her in the gut, slowing her thoughts, numbing her extremities.

She was both in the jungle with Buitre and back in that warehouse in Venezuela. Two separate events that coalesced without warning to strike her powerless.

“Where did you put the map, eh? Is it here?” He delved a hand into her empty hip pocket, groping her through the fabric, his touch intentionally sexual, intentionally cruel. He circled around her back, growling in her ear, “Or here?” He jammed a hand into the other pocket. Fury simmered in Lucy’s veins, but it was the fear that won, keeping her frozen in place.

A simple jab, a grab, and a knee to the forehead would suffice to bring him down, groaning in agony. Only she couldn’t move. Like Oz’s Tin Man, she was paralyzed.

“Or maybe here,” Buitre continued, squeezing her left breast, his fingers biting in to her flesh as he pressed his pistol to her skull.

The jungle kaleidoscoped around her as tears formed in her eyes. The tears, her fear, her helplessness galled her. She couldn’t let this bastard get the best of her.

“Luna!” Gus’s worried shout reverberated under the jungle canopy.

“I’m here!” she cried in a strained and unfamiliar voice.

“Carajo,” Buitre swore, stepping away from her, putting his gun away.

As Gus crashed down the hill, slipping and sliding in his haste to get to her, Lucy felt a measure of her confidence return. She rounded on Buitre, sending him a contemptuous glare. “Like I told you before, Deputy, you’re paranoid. Stay away from me, or I’ll tell the world how the FARC mistreated me.”

“Luna.” Gus rushed up to her, clasping her elbow and drawing her behind him. “What’s the problem here?” he demanded, facing Buitre with menace in his voice.

The deputy stepped back. He shrugged, seeming to measure his odds of taking on the bigger man, whether it was wise to accuse them both of stealing the map. “Ask your wife,” he retorted. Hitching his trousers, he turned away and retreated briskly up the hill.

They watched until he disappeared. Gus then turned to face her. “What happened?” he demanded. “What did he do to you?”

“Nothing,” she insisted. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. You’re as pale as a sheet. Did he touch you? Threaten you?”

“Come on, now,” she retorted, arching an eyebrow at him. “Don’t you think I can handle a man like Buitre?” she scoffed.

Doubt and compassion warred in his golden brown eyes.

“He accused me of stealing the map,” she admitted, trembling anew as concern flared in Gus’s eyes.

“Jesus,” he whispered, hauling her into his embrace.

Caught in the circle of Gus’s arms, Lucy felt her remaining fear drain away. Damn it! She ought to have been able to handle Buitre by herself. But then he’d done what the lieutenant in the warehouse had done, and it had come flooding back.

“It’s my fault,” said Gus, unaware of her self-recrimination. “I’m the one who took the map.”

“And I’m the one who followed you into Buitre’s quarters,” she argued, wresting free. “Look, what matters is that David reported suspicious behavior to Buitre, who now suspects us both.”

“I should’ve realized David’s calling me to help with the roof was a ploy. I’m sorry,” he apologized, his jaw jumping.

“It’s okay,” she reassured him, worried that he might again insist that she leave the mountain early. “All Buitre has are his suspicions,” she reasoned. “He can’t prove we took the map, can he? Besides, in seventy-two hours we’ll be out of this hellhole.”

“You sound pretty sure of that,” said Gus, his gaze dubious.

She wasn’t, but she wasn’t about to give him any excuse to get rid of her. “I’m positive,” she lied, giving him a playful shove. “The rebels want us gone before we run into any Venezuelans and guess their little secret.”

Ten rebels burst into the bungalow at midnight with their AK-47s locked and loaded.

Lurching from a deep sleep, Gus reached for Lucy, drawing her closer, his heart hammering.

“Find the bitch who took the map.” Buitre’s voice swam out of the darkness.

Footsteps sounded on the rough-cut planks.