Page 47 of Silk Shadow

The men laughed.

"Where is your man?" sneered the interpreter. "You didn't come into the jungle alone."

She looked wildly into the bushes. Phoenix lay a warning hand on his shoulder.

The leader hissed a warning and the men spun outwards, weapons drawn. They were smart. This was a territorial gang, used to defending their patch.

They may look ragged and poor, but appearances could be deceiving. Those semi-automatic rifles shot real bullets and these guys had probably been firing them since they were teenagers. Some of them didn’t know much else besides violence and war.

The leader shouted into the jungle. He had a deep, growly voice backed up by enough raw aggression to make most men shiver. Viper didn’t speak much Spanish, but the meaning was clear.

"¡Salgan ahora!"

Both Viper and Phoenix lay stock-still, camouflaged by the undergrowth and the penetrating darkness. The locals had no idea they were less than five meters away.

"We know you are there," said the interpreter, taking matters into his own hands. "Come out now."

The small army surrounding Izzy gripped their assault rifles, their heads roving like satellite beacons.

The leader said something and gripped Izzy by her hair. She yelped. "No, don't hurt me. Please."

Shit.

Viper glanced at Phoenix, his expression grim.

The man kicked her in the back of her legs, forcing her to her knees. He placed the rifle against her forehead.

"Show yourself," the interpreter called out. "Or we kill your woman."

CHAPTER 20

“No!” Izzy screamed.

She didn't want to die like this, out in the middle of the jungle. Just another American tourist killed in unknown territory. A statistic. Her body never recovered. Left to rot. How had it come to this?

Two days ago, she was sunning herself by a hotel swimming pool, teasing Viper to come and join her.

God, Viper.

Where was he now? Was he watching this?

How could he let them do this to her?

Or did those shots she'd heard earlier mean he was dead? Him and Phoenix?

A sob caught in her throat.

Surely, if he was here, he'd come and save her.

The leader of this crazy bunch had her by the hair. It hurt like hell. It felt like it was being pulled out of her head by the roots. Yet that was the least of her worries. The butt of the rifle felt cold against her forehead, colder than the rain dripping down her back. So much for the dry clothing. At any moment he could pull the trigger and end her life. Just like that, she'd cease to exist.

Oh, God, please don't let me die, she prayed.

Then she heard a rustle in the bushes. She strained her eyes, but it was so dark and wet, she could only make out the twisted shadows of the trees.

"Okay, I'm coming out. Don't shoot."

She sobbed in relief.

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