Page 7 of Bad Rio

At last, warmth begun to creep through her veins. Her shaking subsided. She wanted to demand the truth. Instead, she decided to start with a safe question. “Weren’t you cold?” she asked him. “Out there on the scooter?”

Unrolling a sleeping bag, he unzipped it until it was completely open. He shrugged. “Naw. I tend to run hot.” Shaking out the sleeping bag, he folded it in half and half again, forming a large square. This he settled onto the end of the bed, and sat down.

“Are you going to sleep in that?” Feeling her eyelids begin to droop, Becca didn’t want to lose consciousness. She needed to remain vigilant. She needed her wits about her.

However, she’d barely slept in four days, and then only in quick snatches. The pull of slumber dragged at her. She figured the ordeal had finally gotten to her. After this interminable week, her body needed rest.

“Sleep in the bag?” As though in surprise, he pointed at the bag at the foot of the bed. “No. I’m sleeping with you.”

Unsettled, Becca glanced over the bed. It was no larger than double, not near enough room for her to share with a stranger. She put her foot down. “No,” she told him in a determined tone. “You are not. I will sleep here, alone. Is that understood?” She gave him her most fearsome glare.

If she hadn’t been observing him so closely, she might have missed his sudden change in manner. He literally froze. His gaze shot to the wooden rafters. His entire body stilled.

“Shit!”he muttered, and suddenly sprang into action.

Leaping to his feet, he caught up the sleeping bag and snapped it open. Jumping onto the bed beside her, he spread the bag over them both, over their entire bodies and their heads. “Quiet,” he commanded. “Do not move.”

Startled into compliance, it was only instants later when she heard it: the sound of helicopter rotors beating overhead.

Chapter Three

Rio thrust the sleepingbag up with one fist at each corner, his arms locked straight out. He held it as high as possible, tent-like, over their bodies. Becca didn’t question him, didn’t move. Her heart pounding, she froze into stillness.

The helicopter’s engines whined overhead. Louder. It sounded like the chopper sailed directly over their tiny cabin. The beating rotors thundered, shook the small shack. Time stalled.

Somehow Becca knew that Rio had gritted his teeth. In their dark cocoon, she couldn’t see him, she just knew. As though his concern leached unease into the very air, Becca experienced a new dread flowing through her. Jammed beside his big body, she pressed herself to him. With her fingers, she clutched his shirt, and could feel the warmth of his skin. She heard the thudding of his heart. He smelled of the wind, blowing through a mountain forest. Her face in his neck, his beard stubble rasped against her cheek. She was afraid to move a muscle.

One part of her wondered how covering them with a cheap sleeping bag could be effective. How did hiding from the boogeyman like frightened children beneath bed covers help them?

At last, the helicopter’s noise grew faint and disappeared. Rio let out a breath and flung off the sleeping bag. He got to his feet. “I don’t know if the cartel’s helos are outfitted with FLIR capability. The roof and overhanging trees will mask some of our heat signatures, but I wanted to make sure.”

“FLIR?”

“It means Forward Looking Infrared. It’s thermal imaging. The sleeping bag will mask our heat, but only for a couple of minutes. Once our body heat transferred to the fabric, we’d be visible to them.”

She felt her mouth form into anO. “That’s why you held it up off our bodies.”

---