Page 53 of Hunter's Mission

He had a point, but I decided to go with my plan. I removed my shoes and shoved my socks inside them. Then I tied my laces together and draped my boots across my shoulders. Peering at the brown water, I sucked in a deep breath and let it out in a huff. “Oh, there’s one other deadly creature I haven’t told you about.”

“Oh yeah?” He leveled his gaze at me. “What is it? Electric eel?”

I clicked my fingers. “Shit, I forgot about them too. But I was referring to the Candiru fish. It’s only tiny, but it gets into places you don’t want it to go. Whatever you do, don’t pee while you’re in the water.”

His jaw dropped.

I burst out laughing. “You should see your face.”

He cupped his groin. “Bloody hell, why didn’t you do your research in Yellowstone National Park?” Growling, he shuffled to the edge of the river and slid into the water. “Let’s get this over with. Give me your hand.”

I sat on the edge of the riverbank and holding onto him, I slipped into the water up to my waist.

“Just stick with me. You can put your hands on my shoulders if you prefer.”

“That’s good. Thanks.” My plan had been to hold onto his shoulders and swim behind him, but the current pressed my body against his like he was giving me a piggyback, and although he didn’t say anything, he struggled to hang onto the shrubs and rocks along the riverbank.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Yep, except for the image of that damn fish swimming up my ass. Thanks for that visual.”

“I didn’t mean your ass. I meant—”

“Layla, I don’t need the graphic details.”

I chuckled. “Sorry.”

“Ah, Jesus!” He jolted. “Something slithered between my fucking knees.” He picked up his pace.

I slipped off his back on purpose.

“Layla,” he called.

“I’m okay. Keep moving. I’m with you.”

With bouncing strides off the muddy bottom, I let the current propel me forward. Each time my toes dug into the mud, slimy plants wrapped around my ankles and calves like tentacles.

The landslide seemed to go on forever. Whatever had been in its path when that section of land had tumbled into the river would have been obliterated. Surviving in the Amazon jungle was like that: part luck, part skill.

Hunter and I needed both.

Finally, we were able to pull ourselves from the water. Hunter climbed onto the riverbank first and plucked me from the river like I was a small child.

“See, that wasn’t so bad,” he said.

“No, actually, it was okay. Give me a sec to pull my shoes on.” I sat on the rocks. “At least it washed all the mud off me.”

Now that I could see my bruises and cuts better, my legs looked worse.

As he studied his GPS again, I let my feet air dry in the sun for a bit before I pulled on my socks and shoes.

He turned to me with a frown drilled across his forehead. “I smell smoke again. Do you?”

I sniffed. “Yeah.”

He shoved his GPS away. “Let’s go.”

As we continued our trek, the scent of smoke grew stronger, and at a bend in the river, we had to crawl over the sun-bleached branches of a giant tree that had toppled toward the river a long time ago. As I straddled a branch thicker than my torso, someone shouted.

---