Last Spy Standing. Dana Marton

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feet away. She hadn’t panicked. In fact, she had enough presence of mind to even help the kid. Maybe she isn’t as helpless as she looks, he thought as he began marching toward them.

      “Better get into the woods and out of this sun.” He took charge when he reached them, leading them into the cover of the trees so they wouldn’t be seen from the other side. They could use some rest, and this place was as good as any.

      On closer inspection, she did look shaken. And more than a little lost. She kept casting worried looks at him. He couldn’t blame her. This morning she’d been on a bus tour that she’d thought was safe. She had no way of knowing that the only roads up here were the ones cut into the jungle by loggers who were little more than criminals, clearing the jungle illegally. Traversing those roads without permission from the local crime lord could be deadly. Without protection, the bandits who controlled the area would consider anyone on them free prey.

      Whoever had put her tour together was running an irresponsible operation, exploiting tourists who didn’t know better. He’d probably figured he could take a few people in and out quickly, without being seen. Idiot.

      And so were the people who would sign up for a trip like this. You couldn’t hire the first local guide that showed up at your hotel. Nor should you get on the first rickety bus that promised a grand adventure. He had half a mind to tell her that, but she looked like she’d already paid plenty for her error in judgment. She’d almost paid with her life. The thought set his teeth on edge.

      “What did your husband have to say about you coming all this way for a flower?” he asked once they were settled on a big rock, shaking water out of their boots. He wanted to know what kind of man would let a delicate woman like her come to a dangerous place like this.

      “I’m not married.” She finger combed her hair, then pulled her clothes away from her skin. She seemed to be trying to air-dry the fabric, but it wasn’t going to happen anytime soon considering the humidity level.

      He tried not to look much, but it wasn’t easy. She had perfect proportions. Everywhere. And a pretty face, with symmetrical features, thick lashes and full lips. She radiated a kind of wholesome innocence he didn’t know what to do with.

      He took the cheese and chunk of flatbread that they’d taken from the goatherds out of his waterproof backpack, and divided the food between Zak and Megan. “You go ahead. I’m not hungry.”

      He’d eat grubs if he got desperate. He had a feeling the other two wouldn’t.

      “You two hike a lot in these parts?” she asked between two bites.

      “Here and in other places.” His missions took him all over the world.

      As far as the kid went, this was Zak’s first trip to South America. Based on the scant information he’d been given, Mitch knew Zak had graduated from being a pothead to more serious vices and decided that as long as he was using, he might as well get into the business. He’d probably taken one too many college business classes and fancied himself an entrepreneur. And since he learned from his father that when you wanted to get something done, you went to the top, he bought a ticket to South America.

      Big mistake.

      “How far is the nearest town?” Megan wiggled her toes in the sunshine. They were tipped with nail polish and looked like candy. Her pants were rolled up to above her knees.

      He looked away. Her dainty toes and long legs were none of his business. “We should be there by nightfall.”

      “Do they have an airport?”

      Sure. Right next to the day spa. “We’ll be lucky to find a phone and a shack to sleep in. We’re in a sparsely populated area. There isn’t any industry around here, and little agriculture. The natives farm a little, but mostly they live off the jungle’s bounty.” He didn’t mention the criminal element, didn’t want to remind her.

      In the morning, he would hook her up with a dependable guide who’d take her to the nearest city. She couldn’t come with them any farther. When he contacted the Colonel, they’d get a military transport out of the country, which wasn’t something she could be allowed to see.

      “But they have shops, right?” She tugged on her top, her eyes filled with embarrassment. “This outfit is completely ruined. Everything else I have is soaking wet from the river, too.”

      Educating her on the local realities didn’t seem worth the energy. She’d be out of his hair tomorrow morning. Simpler for him and safer for her. She was a babe in the woods. Megan Cassidy had no business being someplace like this, around men like him.

      TTHEY REACHED THE TOWN at twilight, walking out of the rain forest tired and dirty.

      Mitch wiped the sweat off his forehead as he led his small team toward the largest wooden building he could see. Kids ran around in the dust, chasing dogs and small, black pigs. The hum of generators filled the air, providing the few dozen houses with electricity. A couple of ancient bicycles leaned against crumbling walls. A beat-up, rusted-out pickup—probably the only car in the village—hid in the shade of a fruit tree.

      He scanned the scene before him carefully, but everything seemed as it should be. He couldn’t spot anyone paying them undue attention. Juarez’s influence may or may not extend as far as this place. But even if Juarez was looking this far afield, he’d have people watching for a young man, not two men and a woman. They had that going for them, a definite advantage.

      “Hola!” They reached the building, and he slowly pushed the door in.

      The local guesthouse had four rooms, the toothless old man who shuffled out from the back explained, but one had burned out and two were permanently occupied, so only one was free. He didn’t have a phone, but there was one in the next village, fifty kilometers to the east. Mitch paid in advance, took the key, then led the others down the hallway to the room the man indicated.

      “This is it.” The door stood ajar. He nudged it open with his boot, his hand near his weapon, ready for ambush, ready for anything. Juarez’s men could have cut in front of them.

      But as he looked around, it didn’t seem they did. Nobody waited for them in there save a handful of cockroaches that skittered across the floor. A single bed took up most of the room, covered by a torn blanket that might have had bright-colored stripes at one point in the distant past, but was now beyond faded.

      He could hear Megan swallowing behind him.

      “Didn’t the sign on the front say LUJO? Doesn’t that mean luxury in Spanish?” Her voice was a touch faint.

      He felt sorry for her. She was so far out of her element … “We have our own bathroom. And you’ll be in a nice hotel by tomorrow this time. Hang in there just a little longer.”

      She nodded bravely.

      He walked forward to the open door in the corner, and took in the small shower that probably had only cold water. The chipped toilet had no seat. The pipes were rusty, but none of them were leaking. And he didn’t have to worry about water quality as long as they had their filter bottles.

      Not that Megan appreciated their good fortune—having a roof over their heads and all. Her eyes were unnaturally wide and brimming with something that looked suspiciously close to tears. Even Zak was looking around with a dubious expression on his face.

      He

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