Last Spy Standing. Dana Marton

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her out for a drink. He was ready to sink deeper into that fantasy when he heard something moving in the jungle, circling their small camp.

      Megan heard it, too. She went instantly rigid.

      So much for a good night’s sleep.

      “Give me your gun,” she whispered under her breath.

      Not going to happen. But he did reach up and untie her wrist. He had firsthand experience with the kind of damage she could inflict even unarmed. If they were attacked, she would be far from helpless. That was all he could do for her. He didn’t trust her enough to arm her, at least not until he knew what kind of danger they faced.

      He listened.

      Four men. He used military hand signals to pass on the news.

      She nodded and pointed west.

      He slipped from the makeshift bamboo bed, pulled back into the jungle just as the four shadows snuck into the clearing opposite them. They moved forward, then one of them signaled to the others to stop.

      Mitch was ready to open fire at the first sign of aggression. He could take them out in a second.

      “Is that you, chica? What are you doing here?” the one in the front asked with a voice raspy from too many cigarettes.

      “Dammit, Paolo.” She swore an impressive blue streak in Spanish. “Ever heard of giving warning? I almost shot you.”

      Megan jumped off the bed, brazen as anything, pretending to shove her nonexistent gun into the waistband at her back. And as dark as the night was, it seemed she managed to fool the others, because nobody called her on it.

      If he weren’t careful, he was going to start admiring her or something stupid like that, Mitch thought.

      “I’m taking Juarez’s young friend back to him,” she told the men, tossing wood on the fire, looking around surreptitiously.

      Paolo checked out the sleeping platform behind her. “We’ve been looking for the bastard all day. We made camp east of here a couple of hours ago. Upwind, or we would have smelled your fire. Heard the shots, though. Figured we better investigate.” He knocked Zak to the ground and took his place.

      The kid had to stay where he fell, with the ankle restraint still tethering him to the platform. He couldn’t do much more than squat and look scared.

      Paolo patted the bed next to him and flashed a grin at Megan. “How about you come back to bed?”

      Mitch took a silent step forward. He wasn’t quite out of cover, but he was close enough to take swift action if needed.

      “How about you give up? As I said before, I don’t mix business and pleasure.”

      “Give it a try, I promise you’ll like it.” Paolo’s tone took on a menacing edge. There were four of them, and one of her. He probably knew that she, too, would have the odds figured. “Come on.”

      Mitch stepped into the clearing, not bothering with stealth. He wanted them to see him.

      Immediately, four guns pointed at his chest. Four pairs of hard eyes said they wouldn’t hesitate to pull the trigger.

      “Friends of yours?” he asked Megan as if he’d just gotten back from a bathroom break.

      “Who the hell is he?” Paolo came off the bed.

      “An old friend.” Megan stepped closer to Mitch. “I knew he was in the area so I called him in for help.”

      “The boss don’t like strangers in his business,” Paolo warned her, then turned to Mitch. “Who do you work for?”

      “Whoever pays best. Right now, I’m protecting a logging operation north of here.” All logging in the area was illegal, so that should give him the right credentials. “Gun for hire, soldier of fortune, that kind of thing,” he added.

      “Which timber boss?” Paolo wanted to know.

      Mitch kept his demeanor friendly and his hand close to the weapon tucked into his waistband. “He doesn’t like his name passed around.”

      Tense silence stretched between them.

      But when Paolo lowered his gun, so did the others. “Forget logging. You’ll come with us. I know a man who pays well and needs some extra muscle.”

      And just like that, his chances of getting Zak out of the country swiftly and unnoticed dimmed. Sure, he’d taken on four men in a gunfight before. When he’d been on his own. But if all hell broke loose now, in the dark, Zak or Megan could get killed, and he wasn’t going to take that chance.

      Under the smile on his face, his jaw clenched. Instead of taking Zak to safety, he was going to have to stand by as the men took the kid back to the lion’s den.

      Megan could have been helpful, but damned if he knew whether he could count on her. She seemed determined to care only about her own mission and nothing else. He had hoped to convince her once morning came, but they weren’t likely to get time alone for that now.

      And the balance of power had shifted anyway. The men had played right into her hand.

      Regardless, he would get Zak home. With or without her, he thought as he surveyed the drug lord’s lackeys for weaknesses. He never left a mission incomplete.

      Chapter Four

      By the time morning came, Mitch had a plan. He’d thought about it all night long as he’d slept in spurts squatting by the fire. He could take the men out during their long trek. Getting another look at Juarez’s compound might have provided new intelligence he could pass on to the Colonel, but Megan had already seen the place and had probably passed on all kinds of intel to the CIA. They could deal with Juarez.

      His job was to deal with the kid. Which meant he would have to take out Paolo and the others, then turn around and continue north with Zak. He’d call in for military transport the second he could make connection.

      Megan Cassidy was welcome to do whatever she pleased. As long as she didn’t stand in his way.

      They marched forward silently, in single file. Paolo led the way, with Sanchez, his second in command, behind him. Then came Megan, then Zak, then Mitch, then the other two men.

      Mitch reached into the opening of his shirt and plucked a leech from under his collar, slowing his steps as he disposed of the little bloodsucker. He needed to fall to the back of the line. He didn’t like anyone with a weapon behind him.

      He made a point of scratching a couple of times before stopping altogether and stepping aside. “Damned leeches in my pants.”

      One of the men laughed at him, another winced with sympathy, the rest didn’t bother to respond. Nobody stopped to wait. He messed around with his belt and zipper for a while, until they passed him, then he fell in step behind them.

      Step one completed.

      Yet the setup was far from ideal. Since they were walking single file, he’d have to take out the men

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