Page 59 of The Truths that Deceive

Guns open fire as we run. More of them than I thought. The bullets fly through the air, fast and deadly, and we’re out in the open with no way to reach the fucking jungle.

A bullet sings high as it narrowly misses us both, and I manage to squeeze off a shot before she cries out behind me.

Heart slamming, I turn and push Calista to the ground.

I land on top of her, holding her hands over her head on the dirt and covering her body with mine. “Are you hit?”

She shakes her head, eyes wide with fear.

There’re too many gunmen to take risks. She’s too fucking young and inexperienced to thwart them. And whoever they are, they waited very patiently for us to make an exit.

But they’re shitty shots. Because someone less than an expert would have hit her ten times over. Maybe me, too.

Fuuuck.

There’s a tracker in my ring which will provide the Knightswith our location. But that’s not my first concern. It’s her. Right now, I have no idea who’s behind this. It could be anyone.

“Stay calm,” I murmur, not daring to move as the corner of the backpack digs into me. “Just?—”

“I’m not a goddamn damsel.”

Her bite and the warmth of her seeps into me. The backpack is half on her, as if she was thinking to use it as a weapon if needed. I know that’s what I’d do. Behind her snapped words, she sounds calm.

We lie on the dirt, the cool of night vanishing from the burn of concern for her well-being. I focus on the voices.

They’re speaking accented, rapid-fire… not Spanish… Portuguese? What the fuck? As the voices ricochet off the trees, I can only pick out a few words.

Then another voice comes in. This one speaks Spanish. Male. Also accented.

“Estoy buscando al hacker, Hendrix.”Then he shifts. “Do you know him?”

She jerks a little and I move slightly so my legs hold her down.

The butt of a gun slams into my head, sending pain, white and hot. It explodes beneath my skin, along my nerve endings.

“Did I say move?” English is easier for this asshole. Spanish isn’t his first language.

A nasty thought comes to me. We could have been followed since Germany. Hiding my trail wasn’t ever a priority. We took the scenic route to give me more time with her, to get her talking, to dig into details that I should have left alone.

If I was alone, I’d have made it to the jungle.

If I was alone, I’d have fought from within the mission, escaped a different way.

If I was alone, I wouldn’t be in this position.

“I’m not good at following orders,” I say. “Who are you?”

“You seem to be under the mistaken idea you’re in control. You are not.” He bends close, hot breath stale with cigarettes on me as he traces the edge of a knife down along my cheek. “Are you Hendrix?”

Calista moves again. “Don’t say?—”

“What’s it to you?” I ask over the top of her. And then, pushing down on her to keep her in place, I start to rise because I fucking recognize the accent. It’s Bolivian, and?—

Something big hits me so hard, my vision dots with black spots. A pricking sensation pinches my skin. Then the entire world turns black and pain-free.

When I finally wake up,the crushing pain is back in force. It takes all my effort to crack open my eyes. My vision blurs and I can’t focus, so I keep them closed and listen instead.

I’m not alone. There’s someone with me in this dank, dark place. But it’s not cool. It’s humid as fuck with latent heat seeping from above. I’m guessing we’re near the water since it’s so damp, the air can choke me.

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