Page 29 of Extracted

“Eli made a Mayday call before we went down,” she said. “How long do you think it will take for a search party to come?”

Dallas shrugged. “Could be hours. Could be never.”

Her chest deflated. They were in the middle of the darn Amazon. Hours or days from civilization on foot. “Do you think we’re close to Ecuador? Maybe it would be wise to head back toward the airstrip,” she said, panting.

“You mean where the guys shot at us?”

“Okay, cranky. You don’t need to bite my head off.”

“I’m not biting your head off.” He struck a vine out of the way, his arm muscles bunching with the movement. Blood still coated his arm, but it appeared to have at least stopped flowing. “We don’t even know who the fuck is after us.”

“I’m not a genius or anything, but maybe it has to do with your work.”

He stopped and looked over his shoulder, one eyebrow hoisted. “My work? Yours is the work that killed a dozen people yesterday.”

“Yeah . . . but if the CIA wanted me dead, I don’t think they’d send Hummers of dudes with machine guns. They’d probably send one hitman or something. It’s not like I’m a terrorist.”

“No. But you have intel regarding their involvement in a bombing. That would cause serious problems for the government, don’t you think?” He continued on and she stomped over the terrain behind him.

She chewed on her lip. She couldn’t go there. The thought of the CIA wanting her dead was too much.

Her toe caught a tree root and she hit the ground. Her knees throbbed, and she let out a curse. Dallas seized her biceps and lifted her to her feet. “You okay?”

He bent to brush off her knees. The skin hadn’t broken, but the flaming heat of pain made the anxiety inside her that much more volatile.

Hysteria bubbled up inside her, threatening to transform her into a sobbing mess. She chose anger instead. “This is stupid,” she said, throwing her arms out to the sides. “We’re going to die here.”

Dallas straightened. “You got a better idea?”

She balled her hands at her sides and let out a low scream of frustration. She tunneled her hands in her hair and turned away. He wasn’t the one she was pissed at. If she’d handled things differently with Charlene, maybe ignored the hunk of hot manly muscle’s enticing ticket out here, she could be sitting in a cushy hotel waiting for a commercial flight.

Or not. Like Dallas had said earlier, whoever had found her at the hotel could find her again. She was in deep shit and it wasn’t anyone’s fault but her own. She could never outrun her damn past.

A warm, damp hand clamped around her shoulder. “Hey.” Dallas’s eyes were soft, tired, and alert all at the same time. “I’m not going to let anything happen to us, okay? Yeah, this sucks. But we’ll get out of here.”

She nodded slowly.

He wrapped his arm around her and kissed the top of her head. “Hang tight. And if you need to lose your shit, do that too.”

She chuckled. “I wasn’t looking for permission.”

He gave her one more squeeze.

“If we could just get to a damn phone we could—”

He froze. “Holy shit.” He patted the pockets of his cargo shorts and unbuttoned the one near his knee. “I have my satellite phone.”

She perked up, rising to her tiptoes.

He dug out a clunky black device with a thick antenna and a screen similar to that of a smartphone. “I thought I put this in my backpack, but I didn’t,” he said, his voice full of awe. He waved the phone at her.

Her mind spun frantically. “Do we call the authorities? A rescue?”

Dallas shook his head. “I’m afraid it’s not that easy. We don’t know who we can trust. But there’s a good chance we’ll be able to locate the plane.” He tapped the screen, oblivious to the insects landing on his face.

“How?”

He pressed the device to his ear. “My brother.”

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