If kissing Logan made my skin burn, making love to him melts all the bones in my body. Under his touch, I lose every sense of self. Exhausted, battered, and running away from trigger-happy lunatics, I’ve never been more deliriously blissful in my entire life.
Now I get what the fuss about hate sex is.
Only, as Logan’s lips brush on mine while our bodies are joined, I’m not sure it’s hate that links me to this man at all. His gaze on me is so soul-baring, I can’t cope. Unable to deal with my feelings, I close my eyes and let my body take over, losing myself in the moment. Until we both collapse on the tent floor, spent, falling asleep almost immediately in each other’s arms.
***
The morning after should be awkward, but it isn’t. We wake up naked and sweaty, and, as if reading my mind, Logan opens the tent flap and rushes out, yelling, “Last in the water is a loser!”
And who knew the professor, so serious and stern on first impression, had a playful edge? Last night I got familiar with his sex-god side, but it looks like I’m in for a few more surprises.
I run after him barefooted, laughing as I imagine what Tucker would say if he could witness our total disregard of his jungle safety directives. A few short yards, and I dive in the river head-first, sinking underwater. The liquid streams through my hair and cools my scalp, and nothing has ever felt better—well, except for Logan’s hands on my skin last night.
I re-emerge right behind him and splash him. He turns and splashes me back… until his eyes drop to my bare chest and I read the change in them: time to play a whole different game.
We make love in the water, quick and animalistic. Once it’s over, Logan gives me another long kiss and carries me out of the river in his arms. He lays me on the rock to dry and walks to the tent, regaling me with a view of his delicious white buns.
When he comes back, he’s already wearing his boxer shorts. Logan hands me my clothes and then folds up the one-person tent.
We eat breakfast sitting on the rock in our underwear while our skin dries off. This close to the river, and without the steam from yesterday’s storm coating the jungle, there are no insects around to pester us.
Protein bar done with, Logan turns to me. “As much as I’d like to spend all day here with you, we have to get back to camp.”
“I know,” I say.
We get dressed, collect all our supplies, and once my backpack is nestled once again between my shoulders, I take a hold of Logan’s hand and interlock our fingers. “Let’s go.”
We reach the main camp when there’s still an hour or so left of daylight. Enough for us to assess the situation while remaining hidden in the bushes at a safe distance.
I squint my eyes, but from this far away, I can’t tell if the camp has been overrun or not.
“Can you see anything?” I ask.
“No, use this.” Winter hands me the miniature telescope again.
I take it and bring the lens to my eye and adjust the focus to scan the circle of tents. In the gap between two of them, I’m able to make out Dr. Boonjan sitting in the dirt on the left side of the camp with a miserable air about himself. Somchai is slouched next to him. Their hands and ankles are tied.
My heart sinks. Smith has wasted no time.
“What’s going on?” Winter asks.
“Smith must have control of the camp,” I say. “Somchai and Dr. Boonjan are tied up; they’re sitting on the ground with their backs against a tree.” I observe more closely and notice the length of rope sneaking around their chests. “Bound to the trunk.”
“What about Tucker and Archie?”
“I can’t see. They must be on the other side of the tree. Let’s shift.”
Careful not to make any noise, we shuffle sideways, crawling on our elbows and knees. Once we reach our new vantage point, I look through the mini-telescope again, clocking in on Archie’s ashen features.
Before I can stop myself, an involuntary roar of rage escapes my lips.
Winter pushes my head down toward the ground, and we both lie flat on our bellies.
“Are you crazy?” she hisses. “You want to get us caught? What did you see?”
“It’s Archie,” I say. “I have to go.”
I try to push up again, but she pulls me back to the ground, saying, “Calm down.”
“Check for yourself”—I hand her the telescope—“and then tell me again to calm down.”
Winter takes the black tube from me and spies the camp through the high grass covering the terrain. I know when she has Archie in her focus, because she gasps loudly.
“Those bastards,” Winter whispers angrily, without removing her eye from the lens. “They’ve made him sit on his wounds.” She pauses, takes another look, and gasps even louder. “There’s blood on the ground; the stitches must have burst open. He has to be in a lot of pain.”
I take the telescope back from her and examine my best friend’s face. “It’s not just the pain. He’s not well. An infection, most likely. Smith must’ve gotten here last night. If Archie has been sitting in the dirt with open wounds for twenty-four hours, he must already be feverish. We have to do something.”
“Agreed,” Winter says, and preventively grabs my arm to ground me. “But rushing in there won’t solve a thing.”
“It’s Archie.” I struggle to get free. “I have to go.”
“Logan.” The tenderness in her voice makes me pause. “Say you attack now, and even manage to cut them free. Then what?” She pauses. “Archie will need to be carried at this point. Tucker looks more like a teddy bear than someone who’d be helpful in a fight.” No matter how fit he is, I add in my head. To go against Smith, one needs to be mean, and Tucker doesn’t have an ounce of mean in him. “And the only thing Dr. Boonjan has fought in his life,” she continues, “is probably an unruly book page. So unless Somchai has some hidden martial arts skills, you’d be in there alone fighting three highly trained ex-Special Forces armed to the teeth with no weapons of your own. You’d only get yourself caught and tied to the tree with the others. Then Archie would really stand no chance.”
Winter’s right. I hate that she’s right. And not because she has outsmarted me once again; because it means I’m powerless to help my best friend when he needs me the most.
“So what do you propose?” I ask.
“We wait.”
“For what?”
“It’s almost dark. If the soldiers haven’t left by now, they must be planning to leave at first light tomorrow.”
“I’m not sure Archie has that much time.”
“Listen to me, Logan, we’re his only hope and we only get one shot at this, so we have to get it right on the first try.”
“You have a plan?”
Winter winks at me. “I do.”
I shake my head. I swear, this woman never ceases to amaze me.
***
While we wait for the cover of night, we retreat further away from the camp to drink our last water, split the remaining protein bar, and rest. We hide our backpacks in a thick bush and stand by until the jungle is coated in darkness.
Then, hiding in the shadows, we crawl back toward the assembly of tents. The camp lights provide just enough illumination for us to check on the state of things through the telescope.
“The prisoners are still in the same spot,” I say. “You think they’re feeding them? Giving them water?”
“I don’t know,” Winter replies. “But let’s focus on our mission right now. You have eyes on Smith?”
“Yeah, he’s with his minions having dinner under the tarp.”
The three of them are sitting around the table with a lantern placed in its center, eating and talking. Voices carry out to us, but not loud enough for us to pick up what they’re saying. The bastards are laughing, most likely discussing all the ways they’re going to spend their loot.
“What of the rifles?” Winter asks.
I squint my eyes against the darkness. At their feet, I catch a glint of moonlight reflected on black metal: the armory and ammunition box.
“They’re guarding them closely.”
“Good,” Winter says. “Just as we imagined. Smith knows we’re out here, weaponless. He must’ve figured that if we tried something, we’d go for the artillery first. What about the phones and laptop?”
As the moon rises higher in the sky, the scene before us becomes clearer still. “Smith has my phone case next to him. The laptop, too,” I say. “He’s literally keeping it under his arm.”
“What about Tucker’s phone?”
I search and search, but… “I can’t see it anywhere.”
“Could it still be in his tent?” Winter asks hopefully. “Did Smith know Tucker had a second satellite phone?”
“Let’s hope he didn’t,” I say grimly.
We crawl a few yards back, keeping out of sight.
Waiting.
Again.
I hate waiting.
Winter shuffles closer to me, and her lips find mine in the darkness. And for a second nothing else exists anymore. Just me and this woman. This fierce, brave, insufferable person that has stolen much more from me than Smith and his puppets ever could. She has taken my heart, and now it’s hers to do with as she pleases.
We find comfort in each other. Saying with tender kisses and caresses what’s too hard to put into words. Trying to cure the other of the fear we’re both feeling for Archie. For ourselves.
The sudden silence shakes us to attention.
“Have they gone to sleep?” Winter asks.
“Let’s go check.”
As stealthily as we can, we slither back to our vantage point. With the camp’s lights out, the half-moon provides just enough light for us to see that the camp is still. All is quiet.
“Looks like they’ve retired for the night,” I say.
“They didn’t leave anyone to guard the camp?”
My eyes go at once to where I spotted the armory box last. Poking out from inside the tent next to it, there’s a boot. And, judging from the angle the foot is at, it must belong to someone sitting on a chair.
“Someone is guarding the weapons and coms,” I say. “Just as you predicted. But I don’t know who it is; I can’t see their face.”
I can only hope it’s not Smith, I add silently in my head. We stand a better chance if one of his brainless pals is the only person awake out there.
“Okay,” Winter says. “Let’s wait another half an hour just to be on the safe side, and then we go in as planned.”
I nod, even if I have no intention of sticking to the plan.