Page 39 of Legacy's Destiny

She widened her eyes in mock solemnity. “Sometimes decades.”

“Decades?” His grin broke through. “I pick that one.” Her fingers danced up his ribs, and he jerked slightly, his grin becoming a laugh. She gasped in delight, repeating the motion until he grabbed her hands. “You don’t want to do that,” he warned, his voice low with playful menace.

“I think I do,” she said, her tone daring. “I forgot you were ticklish.”

Deacon shook his head slowly, a spark of mischief lighting his eyes. “Payback will be hell.”

“Payback?” she asked, blinking with faux innocence. “Such as?” Before she could react, his hands found her ribs, and she shrieked with laughter, squirming in vain to escape his relentless tickling. “I give!” she cried, breathless but not coughing. He stopped immediately, pinning her beneath him.

For a moment, he simply stared at her, his expression raw and unguarded. The intensity in his gaze filled her with a warmth she’d never known, a confidence that came from being wholly seen and deeply cherished. This man was hers, and she was his.

He lowered his lips to hers, sealing the moment with a kiss that promised everything. Echo wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. In Deacon, she’d found something rare—something extraordinary.

CHAPTER 13

Echo stretched slowly, the ache in her muscles confirming that last night hadn’t been a dream. A satisfied smile played on her lips as she felt Deacon’s arm snake around her waist, pulling her closer. She snuggled against his solid frame, resting her ear on his chest. His steady heartbeat created a comforting rhythm, but she heard him rumble, “Do you hear that?”

Lifting her head, she blinked and listened. “I don’t hear anything,” she said, her brows furrowing.

“Exactly. The rain stopped.” Deacon patted her gently on her bottom. “Get dressed. I want to see what the jungle looks like and talk to Click about plans for extraction.”

Echo moved aside as he rolled off the sleeping mat and began to dress. Her eyes lingered on him, admiring how his muscles flexed beneath his skin as he tugged on his pants. When he turned around and caught her watching, his eyebrows raised in silent question.

She grinned. “Nothing.”

He tilted his head, skepticism evident on his face. “I’m not sure I believe that.”

Laughing, she playfully said, “Okay, maybe I was admiring the deliciousness of the dish I was served last night.”

Deacon threw his head back with laughter. “I’ve never been called a dish before.”

Rolling onto her stomach, she propped her head on her elbow, her tone playful. “Maybe ‘dish’ wasn’t the right word.” She smirked. “Maybe I should’ve said ‘feast.’” She wiggled her eyebrows for emphasis.

Deacon sat beside her, pulling on his socks and boots, his grin broadening. “I prefer that term.” He leaned in, giving her a quick kiss on the lips before standing. “Now, get dressed, woman.” He grabbed his T-shirt, tugging it over his head with a flourish. “Show’s over.” He winked at her before stepping outside. “I’ll be at the big shelter.”

Echo smiled as she watched him leave, then took her time getting ready. After using the wash basin, she freshened up, combed through her long hair, and neatly braided it. When she finally stepped outside, the air felt damp and heavy, and the jungle around her was cloaked in muted gray light. Though the rain had stopped, dark clouds still churned overhead, promising more to come. Carefully picking her way along the bamboo walkways, she headed toward Deacon.

He stood at the edge of the village, his broad shoulders tense and his gaze fixed on the dense jungle below. Ranger and Ralph were with him, their postures mirroring his. As Echo approached, she asked, “What’s going on?”

Deacon raised a hand, signaling for silence, then tapped his ear. Realizing he was likely communicating with Click, she fell quiet. Her communication device had been lost during the flood—a casualty of her being pulled underwater. Deacon explained that because it was a spare and not custom-fitted, it had probably been swept away and was likely buried under ten feet of sediment by now.

She stood silently beside him, the weight of the jungle pressing in around them. At first, all she could hear was the distant hum of insects and the occasional call of a bird. Then, faintly, she heard it—a helicopter. Her heart leaped. “Is that for us?” she asked, her voice tinged with hope.

Deacon shook his head. “No. Click says the weather fronts are still too close together. The rain will start again within the hour. In three days, there’s supposed to be a break—maybe a four- or five-day window before the next front rolls in. That’s when we’ll leave.”

Ralph shifted uneasily, his expression wary. “Unless those people are looking for you.”

Deacon turned to him, his tone steady. “We won’t bring the cartel to your doorstep. We’ll keep watch and ensure no one approaches the mountain. Right now, they’re conducting lower-level grid searches.”

Ranger chimed in, his voice calm yet authoritative. “You can tell by the sound of the aircraft; they’re flying low, scanning the canopy. It’s a pattern—they haven’t moved to the mountain yet.”

Deacon nodded. “If we think they’re getting closer or there’s any chance someone might be coming up the mountain, we’ll bug out. We won’t leave anything behind that could trace back to you. Guardian looks after those who look after them.”

Ralph’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Guardian? You never told me you were with Guardian.” He rubbed the back of his neck, his tension easing slightly. “I’ve had two run-ins with your organization, and both times, I was impressed by the integrity of your units. That makes me feel a lot better.” He offered a small, sheepish smile. “I wish you’d told me sooner.”

Deacon chuckled. “Sorry for the unnecessary worry.”

Ralph shook his head. “No more worries. I’ll head back to the village now; I just wanted to make sure everything was okay. I guess I’m a bit of a mother hen that way.”

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