Page 125 of Dangerous Mission

Uncoordinated footsteps, more like thrashing, is barely audible over the rain and jungle sound.

He’s close.

Turning the light off, I clutch it to my chest with my taped hands. The last thing I have time to do is gnawthrough the duct tape. That comes after I know I’m in the clear.

Minutes go by.

My adrenaline peaks and starts to wane. It’s a miracle I have any left after this week.

I pause a while longer to listen, holding my breath. Now it’s been a long time since I’ve heard him. His light isn’t visible from where I’m hiding.

A cold drop of water falls off a leaf above me and lands on my nose, runs down my chin and drops onto my chest through the mesh vest.

If I wasn’t so freaked out I’d laugh.

Yep. I’m ready for this night to be over.

Chapter Sixty-Two

The Agile Security truck is both wrecked and empty.Goddammit.

The driver’s door is open, swaying in the wind. Rainwater pools in the cab. Diluted blood streaks the steering wheel. The metallic stench of blood mingles with the humid rot of the forest.

My gut cinches tighter as cold fear wraps around my mind.

Our clues are fading.

Mother nature destroying any evidence.

I take a step back, scanning for signs of a struggle. Desperate to know more. Terrified of what I might find.

But there’s nothing. No footprints or scuffs, nothing but Aria’s faint scent clinging to air inside the cab.

Truck opens the passenger door, leaning inside. A roughsound rumbles out of him. “Something about this doesn’t sit right. It’s a MVA, but what else is going on here?”

“Fuck.” I clench my teeth. “Who the hell did this? And where did they take her? There’s nothing around for several klicks.”

“Maybe she got away.” He opens the glove box and pushes the contents around.

The satellite phone is there. He pockets it and asks, “Is the thermal tracking equipment in the back?”

Truck’s tone is steady, but tense, when I’m anything but. I’m a downed electrical wire.

“Should be.” I tear my gaze from the blood as I search the rest of the cab. Just the usual equipment—no keys, no pack, nothing personal. No goddamned clues.

But I’m hit by her scent again, faint but undeniable. It’s the soap we both showered with.

I tense, fighting the stinging pain in my throat. “She was here.”

Truck scans the floorboards, running his handheld light over the interior. “No signs she was forced into the back. No signs that she resisted.”

The words hang in the charged air.

I have to swallow twice before I can speak. “Unconscious would be my guess.”

He looks at me and I see the question in his eyes.Or dead.

I slam my fist against the leather driver’s seat, making water fly off of it. “No. She’s alive.”

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