“Stop talking!”
Drones equipped with thermal vision?
Shit.
Gabriela’s pulse spiked. For the first time since this began, she was truly afraid.
Then from overhead, she heard it—a soft whirring sound.
16
Dylan had only a moment to react. “Stay down. Get ready to run.”
He raised the rifle, sighted on the drone, and fired, alerting theGuachimanesto their position. Then he switched his rifle to a three-round burst, sighted again.
Rat-at-at! Rat-at-at! Rat-at-at!
Four men fell. The other two ran for cover.
Rat-at-at! Rat-at-at!
“They know we’re here.” He stood, drew Gabriela to her feet. His last glance at his phone had showed the riverbank no more than a thousand meters west of their position. “We head due west to the river and cross it here.”
They moved as quickly as they safely could through the trees, Dylan picking their path and doing his best to guide her. The last damned thing they needed was for her to break or sprain an ankle. That had happened to a human-rights lawyer his Cobra buddy Connor was trying to get out of Myanmar, and it had nearly gotten them both killed.
The terrain became steeper, and the trees began to thin, making their cover scant. And then it was there, maybe fifty meters downhill below them—the river.
Dylan dropped to his knees, searched the forest around them and the riverbank beyond for any sign of hostiles. “The moment we leave these trees, we’ll be visible to any eyes in the sky, as well as anyone watching the water. The river is narrower here, which means it might be faster and a little deeper. We get across as fast as we can, climb up the other side, and shelter among the trees.”
Gabriela nodded, catching her breath. “I understand.”
He raised his goggles so that he could see her with his eyes. “Prepare your mind for the water to be cold. Don’t let that stop you. I’ll do my best to stay close, but if you get swept away, aim your feet downstream and use them to keep yourself from hitting submerged rocks. Navigate with your arms to reach the riverbank.”
“Feet downstream. Use my arms to steer.”
“That’s it.” He glanced around again. “Ready?”
Gabriela pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “Stay safe. I don’t want anything to happen to you. I care about you, Dylan.”
His heart seemed to skip a beat, warmth building in his chest. “You take care of yourself. If anything goes wrong, maintain your cover. You’re an innocent. I abducted you because I’m a mean, awful gringo.”
“I won’t say anything to get you killed. Listen to me! You’re Cuban, not a gringo. You took me because I saw your face. You promised to let me go when we reached Colombia.”
He caught her chin. “Don’t worry about me. You do what you have to do to survive and get home.”
They stumbled, slipped, and slid their way down the steep embankment, soil shifting beneath their feet.
Dylan clipped his M4 to his chest rig, took Gabriela’s hand, and stepped into the water. It was icy cold and moving fast.
Gabriela sucked in a breath as the water came over her waist. She was shorter than he was and weighed much less than he did, making this harder for her.
“Grab onto the strap of my backpack, and don’t let go!”
She reached to do as he’d asked—and the water took her.
Dylan lunged, grabbed for her, but she vanished beneath the surface, her baseball cap floating free and disappearing downstream.
Gabriela!