Page 44 of Hunter's Mission

“Shit, what’s that?” I whispered.

He shook his head and grabbed my hand. “Don’t think about it.”

“About what?” I muttered.

“About whatever that was. Just pretend you didn’t hear it.”

“They teach you that in the SEALs too?”

“Yep. Now stay close.” The beam of his headlamp illuminated a white line into the vegetation around us, leading the way. Where the river carved a path through the jungle, the moon cast a faint glow over the water, bouncing enough light for me to make out shapes. Hunter moved with ease, despite his injuries, but I struggled to keep up.

Every step was a battle against the pain radiating from my bruises and scratches, souvenirs from the helicopter fall. But I couldn't let Hunter down. He’d risked his life to save me, and I needed to prove that I wasn’t a pathetic woman who couldn’t hold her own. I just had to keep moving.

“Watch out.” Hunter held his arm across my chest. His headlamp shone on a yellow and brown snake coiled amongst the rotting leaves. Beneath its coiled body were the legs and fury tail of what looked like an Agouti. The large rodent wasn’t moving; the poor thing had been crushed to death.

“Don’t go near it, Hunter. The boa will only strike if it’s protecting its meal.”

“Want me to shoot it?” He wriggled his brows.

“What? No.” I scowled at him until I realized he was joking.

Going around it meant either going deeper into the bush or closer to the river. He chose the river.

“Take it easy.” He pointed at a shoe-boxed size rock in my way. “Watch your step.”

Once around the snake, we moved away from the edge of the water and continued through the seemingly endless expanse of darkness. The rocks beneath our feet were slippery and the moon cast as much light as it did shadows, making each step seem more treacherous than the last.

The weight of exhaustion bore down on me.

“Here, take my hand.” He helped me over a felled log.

He paused to check his GPS and I swept my gaze across the trees around us.

“You good?” He tucked his GPS away.

“Yeah. I was just seeing if there were any edible plants.”

He cocked his head at me. “Found any?”

“Not here.”

“Okay, watch out for those roots.” He reached out to steady me as I teetered over the mass of exposed plant roots. Hunter was all man, bound by muscles and brute strength, yet his gentle touch showed a different side to him. I forgot about the pain in my legs, the sting from my wounds, and the terror of our situation.

“Take it easy.” Concern etched onto his features. ”You’re doing good, Layla.” He squeezed my hand and let go.

“Thanks,” I muttered, trying to focus on putting one foot in front of the other, rather than my feelings for Hunter that were growing by the minute. As we pressed on, his attentiveness to me never wavered. He navigated the treacherous terrain with confidence, guiding me around sharp rocks, tangled vines, and slippery roots.

Hunter just kept going. And going. And my determination to continue became consumed by my exhaustion.

We reached a massive boulder that looked like it had tumbled down the steep cliff on our right hundreds of years ago.

Hunter groaned at the giant obstacle and shoved aside bushes to go around it.

“Hunter, wait. Please.” My voice trembled with frustration as I leaned over my knees.

“You okay?”

“I just . . . let me catch my breath for a sec, okay?”

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