Chapter 12

12

Bea

F ear gripped her as she pulled on her thickest socks. Bea forced it to the back of her mind and pulled on her horse-riding ankle boots. She wished, not for the first time, that she owned a pair of thick walking boots—she knew that even those wouldn’t adequately protect her from the multiple dangers lurking in the jungle.

Over a dozen venomous species of snakes. Deadly poison dart frogs. Bullet ants. She shook her head to clear the thoughts. None of that mattered. She would rather die in the jungle tonight than spend the rest of her life with Aguilar.

She knew she should wait. Midnight was still half an hour away. But the thought—the dreadful fear—that Rogue might leave without her, made her want to bolt out of her room. She forced herself still. Her uncle and his guests might not even be asleep yet, and bumping into them would be a death sentence.

She’d put on her longest white nightgown, to cover her clothes, but it wouldn’t fool anyone at close distance. Her jeans and boots were clearly visible underneath, and one could tell she’d layered on several sweaters. If anybody saw her, they would know exactly what was going on.

She inched closer to the door and pulled it open quickly to make sure it didn’t creak. She knew where she was heading, she just had to?—

Her body hit a wall of flesh. The man pushed her back into the room, closing the door behind them.

No.

Bea screamed, but her scream was swallowed by a thick hand.

Then she bit down. The man grunted, forcing her to look up at him for the first time. Instead of the dark eyes she’d expected to find, deep gray eyes stared back at her.

Not Aguilar.

Rogue.

The fear left her as quickly as it’d arrived. He seemed to sense the change in her and slowly moved his hand away.

“I said midnight. Where the hell were you going?” he said in a low, dangerous voice.

She decided to go with the truth.

“To find you. I was afraid you would leave without me.”

“Jesus,” he said, under his breath. “I told you I’d come for you.” He shook his head. “But I guess you have no reason to trust me. Come on, get ready. I’ll wait.” He turned his back as if to give her privacy.

“I’m ready,” she said.

He turned around again, eying her clothes. “In that?”

She’d always hated these nightgowns her uncle insisted she wear. She lifted the thick white fabric, revealing the clothes underneath.

Rogue walked over to her closet and opened it unceremoniously, cursing at the contents.

“Don’t you have clothes in a darker color?” he hissed.

Bea shook her head, embarrassed. She’d come to hate pastel colors, almost as much as she hated white. If it were up to her, she’d wear only bright colors.

A door slammed further along the corridor, in the direction of her uncle’s suites. Bea sucked in a sharp breath. If her uncle found Rogue here, he might kill them both. She wondered if Rogue understood the risk he was running by letting her come with him.

“It’s okay,” he said quickly, his low voice barely louder than a whisper “We’ll make the clothes dirty when we’re outside. You’ll need a coat, though. It’s going to get chilly out there at night.”

Bea didn’t own a real coat. She handed him her only jacket, which he placed inside his dark backpack. Bea looked around the room she’d called home for the past two years. It didn’t feel like home.

“Are you ready? If you have a passport …”

It was a layered question, and one Bea didn’t feel much like answering, but she couldn’t just not tell him.

“I don’t have a passport, and Uncle Emiliano keeps my ID in his office safe.” To make sure I never leave.

Rogue took the news calmly, and Bea realized that was one of the things she liked the most about him.

“We go, then.”

She wanted to follow but her feet felt glued to the ground. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—do this to him without making him understand what was at risk.

“Wait.”

“Having second thoughts, princess?”

She only just stopped herself from stomping on his foot. “Don’t call me that.”

He sighed. “I’m sorry. What is it, Bea?”

Her name sounded soft on his mouth. Soft, and right. He was still looking at her, so she forced herself to speak. “Are you sure about this?”

“About leaving? Hell, yes, I’m sure, princ—Bea.”

She shook her head. “About leaving with me. My uncle … he … he won’t take it kindly when he realizes I’m missing. I know I threatened to tell my uncle that you’re … that you’re hiding something.” She looked up into his eyes. “But I won’t. I won’t say anything. Even if you leave me behind.”

Rogue’s eyes widened as he took in her meaning. “Are you worried about me, Bea?” he asked. When he put it that way, it sounded so very stupid.

“I’m just …”

“Relax, Bea. When I told you I’d get you out, it wasn’t because of your half-hearted threat.” Right. Of course it wasn’t. Hell, he could have killed her back then if that’d been his intent. “I’m not afraid of your uncle, or of his friends,” Rogue continued.

A shiver ran down her back, despite herself. Her uncle would have her and Rogue killed on sight if he caught them. But if Aguilar caught them, he would make them wish for death before it came.

“I will pay you,” she said. “I swear I will.” She pulled at the necklace around her neck. “In the meantime, you can have this.”

Rogue’s eyes went down to her breasts. His pupils widened as he caught sight of the heavy, diamond-studded cross. Fifteen diamonds. She’d counted them once. Each as big as a pea. Her father had sent it to the convent the year of her fifteenth birthday. Bea had hated it on sight. But she’d kept it, smuggled it into the house under her dress, kept it in a little linen bag under her mattress. Because she’d known—intuitively—that she might need it one day. Today was the day.

She expected Rogue’s eyes to follow the jewelry, but his gaze didn’t waver. If anything, it seemed stuck on the space between her breasts where the cross had nestled.

“It … it’s yours, if you get me out of here.”

“Put that back and cover yourself,” he growled. “We need to get out of here.”

Maybe he’s not religious. Maybe the cross—Forget it. Do as he says, before he changes his mind.

Bea turned towards the door, but Rogue stopped her with a hand on her arm. His touch was light and warm. His hand didn’t tighten against her skin.

“Not that way. We’re going out the window.”

The window? There was no balcony out of these rooms. If they fell, it would be all the way down to the gravel below. They could die, or at least be severely incapacitated.

“Trust me,” he said. “I’ve got this.”

She found she did trust him. And it was good, to feel that she could place her trust in someone else. Whatever his reasons, even if all he wanted was her money, he was taking her out of here. He was offering her a new chance at life, and she had no choice but to trust him.

Rogue fished in his backpack and brought out a length of rope, which he tied around the banister. It had little loops tied along the middle.

Of course he has rope.

“Place one foot inside here. Your hand there. I will lower you down.”

“Just like that?” she asked, her voice thready.

“Just like that. Trust me, Bea. I swear I won’t let you fall.”

He could. He could let you fall, then take the diamonds and run. But she knew, somehow, that he wouldn’t do that. He’d said he’d take her away from here, and she believed him.

Bea let go of the ledge. There was a moment where she swung in the air precariously but, before she had a chance to get too scared, she felt her body being lowered down. Soon, her feet touched the gravel below. Then Rogue was there, pulling her towards the trees.

She strained against his hold.

“The cars are there,” she hissed, pointing to the garage.

“We’re not taking a car,” he said. “We’re walking out.”

“Walking? Are you insane?” Hell, there was every chance her uncle could catch up with them, anyway. But on foot, he’d catch them that much quicker.

“Trust me,” he said. Those words, again, spoken in a tone so soft, she had no choice but to do exactly that.

He seemed to know where to go—selected the darkest areas, with the thickest branches. Once, he pulled her to the ground and covered her with his own body. Moments later, a pair of guards walked by. She didn’t know their names, but then, why would she, when her uncle made sure to keep her away from anyone and everyone. They were young, and held their rifles close to their body, in a way that made her think they might not know what to do with them if the time came to use them. Not that she wanted to test that hypothesis.

Her heart beat hard inside her chest.

“It’s okay,” Rogue said. “They’re gone.”

“Are you sure we’re going the right way?” she asked. Her uncle’s hacienda was vast. They could spend all night circling, then find themselves back in the house come morning. Where her uncle would shoot them both dead.

“I’m sure,” he said. Then his voice softened. He showed her the thick black watch on his wrist. “Look at the compass. I wanted to circle a bit, to get far from the house, but we’ll head straight out from now on. South-west.”

A few minutes later, the wall of the hacienda confirmed his words.

We made it , one part of her celebrated. Don’t be an idiot , another part of her said. You can still die. If your uncle decides to check in on you, if he goes looking for Rogue—the night is young and there are so many ways to die.

“Come on,” Rogue said. He’d gone down on one knee, holding his hands out like a stirrup. “I’ll push you up onto the wall.”

She did, imagining he was a groom helping her onto a horse and jumped up; she almost fell off the other side. She gripped the wall, an inelegant mass of limbs, holding on as tight as she could, until Rogue pulled himself up beside her. Unlike her, he didn’t seem to have any difficulty keeping his balance.

“Ready to jump?”

Bea wasn’t a fan of heights, but even she could tell this fall wouldn’t hurt her. And she didn’t want to appear weaker than she already did—didn’t want him to rethink his decision to bring her along. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—go back. She gritted her teeth and nodded. “Say when.”

“When,” Rogue said softly, and jumped, keeping his hand tight around hers.

Bea felt herself fly through the air. They landed on their feet, and Rogue immediately pushed her forward into a run. He brought out a small torch and twisted it until it shone in the dimmest setting. Bea wished he’d thought of bringing one for her as well, but she didn’t complain.

This, at least, was something Bea could do. She loved running. For a moment, she thought she might be able to give Rogue a run for his money, except who was she kidding. They ran and ran; the man didn’t even break a sweat. When Bea couldn’t run anymore, they walked. Every so often, Rogue tried to make small talk with her.

“Where do you want to go?”

“Somewhere that’s not here,” she replied, puffing. “Anywhere. Wherever you’re going.”

“What will you do when you’re there?”

None of your business. But she could tell there was no ill intent behind his words. He seemed genuinely curious, and she found herself telling him the truth.

“I’m going to college.” Somehow. Someday. There were so many ifs between now and then. So many chances it might never come to pass. “That sounds stupid, doesn’t it?”

Rogue shook his head. “Not stupid at all. What would you like to study?”

This time, she hesitated. She’d never dared to say this out loud. But why not? She wasn’t going to see him again. She could tell him.

“I’m going to be a social worker.” She braved a look into his eyes, dreading the moment he would laugh at her. But he didn’t laugh. His lips remained pursed in thought.

“A social worker,” he repeated.

“I want to work with women who’ve been exposed to substance abuse.”

“Why women?” he asked. He didn’t say anything about the other part.

“Often, they are the ones most affected by drug abuse, often because their husbands and children, the people they love, are addicts and they’re left holding the pieces or trying to bring up their other children in the wake of a huge tragedy. And nobody helps them because it’s hard for women to ask for help for themselves.”

“And you want to help them,” Rogue said quietly.

“I want to help them find their own way forward.” She paused, looking up into his face. It was hard to read his expression, and not just because the light was dim. “You think I’m silly, right? You can say it, you know. Even if I’m paying you.” Rogue’s gray eyes smoldered. She wondered how she could have thought his eyes cold.

“I don’t think you’re silly. You have a dream, and you need to hold on to that fucking dream and squeeze it tight. It’s not a fucking puppy. You’re not going to smother it if you squeeze. Just don’t let it go.”

“Really? That’s all you have to say?”

One of his thick eyebrows arched up. “What would you like me to say?”

“You could tell me I’m part of the problem. The daughter of a drug lord. The niece of a drug lord. That it’s foolish to think I could ever be part of the solution.”

He sighed. “Trying to be part of the solution is not foolish, Bea.”

“Okay …”

“I will do my best to get you to a place where you can make that dream of yours come true. I swear.” Now his eyes were dark pieces of ice on his face. He was serious as death. “But you’re worried about something.”

In fact, now that she thought about it, he’d been looking at his watch more frequently in the last half-hour. “You’re waiting for something, and whatever it is, it’s not happening,” she said.

He looked back at her. “You’re pretty observant.”

She shrugged impatiently. “Please tell me what’s going on.”

“I didn’t come here alone,” he finally said in that soft, deep voice of his. “My team’s meant to be attacking the compound tonight.”

And with those words all the pieces of the puzzle clacked together. Things she’d felt, but not understood, they suddenly made sense. Rogue wasn’t working with her uncle. He was working to bring him down. And with it, came the understanding of just how much trouble she was in. Trouble with a capital T. She’d placed herself right in the middle of something she didn’t understand. Something that couldn’t end well for her. “You’re … Army?” she whispered. Her voice shook.

“You’re safe with me, Bea. I swear to you.” That wasn’t much of an answer. “You’re safe,” he repeated.

Safe. Until my uncle skewers us. Oh God. Bea felt herself hyperventilating. Rogue moved a step closer to her. Close enough to grab her, if she fainted, she realized.

But she wasn’t about to faint. “What’s your real name?” she asked. It was a strange thing to concern herself with, but for some unexplainable reason, it mattered to her.

“Everybody calls me Rogue,” he said gently. “Though my real name is West.”

Okay. Okay. Somehow, the fact that he hadn’t lied about his name reassured her. Her mind was still going a mile a minute, but she no longer felt like she was going to keel over.

“That’s why you thought they wouldn’t follow us,” she said. “Because they would be too busy with other things to worry about us.”

He nodded. “It should have happened by now, but I haven’t heard anything from my team.”

Fear made her shiver. If her uncle caught up with them, he would make both of them wish they were dead.

Rogue’s square jaw was clenched tighter than she’d ever seen it before, his full lips pursed in thought. He probably didn’t realize how formidable he looked, but looking at him now it seemed ridiculous that she’d ever believed him to be one of her uncle’s men. He was a tough man, full of edges, but he was nothing like them.

Yet she had to remember he was a good actor. He’d proven that, back at the hacienda . She believed him when he said he’d get her out, but she had no idea what would happen then. Perhaps … perhaps the military wouldn’t want to let her go.

You might have exchanged one prison for another. The fear inside her grew, thick as the night around them. Soon, her breaths were coming in little pants. She kept going, one foot in front of another, but she wasn’t getting enough oxygen into her lungs. She put out her hand in the darkness—felt herself sway, would have fallen, but something stopped her. Someone .

Rogue’s arms went around her, her back pressed tight against his chest, close enough that she could feel his strong, steady heartbeat. Leaning back against his strength, she couldn’t help but trust him. Slowly, she felt herself begin to relax. Her lungs filled with air once again.

Bea turned her head to look at him, needing to see his face. “Call them,” she said. “Call your friends.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do. I haven’t been able to get a signal yet, but I think we’re high enough now that—” As if on cue, his phone buzzed lightly. He didn’t get to say anything before a man started speaking in a crisp British accent, loud enough for her to make out the words.

“Abort, Rogue. You’re going to have to stay in character a bit longer. The Colombian Army delayed the attack. We’re working with them, but it’s going to take some time to?—”

“Fuck. Fuck,” Rogue said. For once, he didn’t look confident. He looked at her, and his eyes were full of worry.

Worry for me.

“I can’t abort. I’m no longer at the hacienda . I left a few hours ago.”

The British voice gave an exasperated sigh. “Okay. Hide in the jungle. It will be a day at most. We will find you.”

Rogue’s hand gripped the phone so tightly, she was sure the plastic was about to crack. “I have Cruz’s niece with me. She’s in trouble. I couldn’t leave her behind.” The pause this time was long enough for Bea to wonder if they’d lost the connection.

“Tell me you’re fucking kidding me.”

Bea shrank back at the icy tone coming from the phone.

“Does it sound like I’m kidding, Thorne?” Rogue said angrily. His Australian accent was stronger now that he was angry.

Thorne . Bea committed the name to memory. She wasn’t liking the guy much, so far.

“Fuck,” Rogue repeated. A series of emotions flitted through his deep, gray eyes. Fear. Worry. Despair. Then he blinked, and his eyes were ice again. He turned around and walked away from her, still gripping the phone in his hand.

Rogue

He’d been so stupid. So fucking stupid. He should have realized plans could change. He should have waited for the attack to be confirmed before making his getaway, but he’d been worried about getting Bea caught in the crossfire. And he’d been cocky. I wanted a head start.

“What were you thinking of?” Thorne asked. Rogue could hear the contained anger in the man’s voice. Thorne was not a man to mess with, and Rogue knew this certainly counted as messing with him.

“What’s going on?” Another voice. American accent. It was Dark.

“Rogue walked out of the hacienda with a girl. And not just any girl—Cruz’s niece.”

“But we’re not ready?—”

“I know. We need more time.”

He looked at Bea, standing in the clearing. Far enough that she wouldn’t be able to hear the conversation, but not so far that he couldn’t reach her if he needed to. He didn’t like the thought of her out in the jungle alone. Her dark eyes were wide with fear, and Rogue felt the undeniable urge to take her in his arms and tell her everything was going to be okay.

“How much time?” he growled in a low voice.

“It’s not happening tonight, Rogue,” Dark said, his voice laden with feeling.

Rogue had been told once, by an American girlfriend, that Australians used the word fuck too much. She was probably right. But, sometimes, there was no better word in the English language.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

“Bring her back to the hacienda ,” Thorne said authoritatively.

“Thorne—” Dark interjected, but Thorne interrupted.

“It’s the only way. Rogue, get her back before Cruz realizes either of you are gone. Then wait for our fucking signal before getting out again.”

Rogue’s heart sank. He knew Thorne was right. Anything else would put the entire operation at risk. If Cruz realized they were gone, it would increase the danger for the team a hundredfold. He might even escape before they got there, and this would all have been for nothing.

He looked at his watch. Three a.m. He should take Bea back now, while there was still time. But if he took her back, and Cruz or one of the others had noticed her missing, they would assume she was working with them. He’d be signing her death warrant.

As he watched, Bea straightened her spine and forced herself to stand her ground, though her body shook like a leaf. And he’d never been prouder in his life. That settled it for him. No. Never. He wasn’t going to put her in additional danger.

“We’re not going back.”

“Rogue …” Thorne warned. “Whatever’s going on with this girl, this is not about?—”

“I said no. We find a way that doesn’t put her at risk.”

“Tell us where you’re going,” Dark said.

Rogue clicked on the screen. “I’ve sent you our location. We’re heading south from here, on foot.”

“Into the jungle. Give us a few hours. I’ll see what we can?—”

“If something happens to me, get Bea out,” Rogue said, before disconnecting the call. He made his way back to Bea. He felt responsible—completely fucking responsible—for her but it wasn’t just that. When he looked at her, he saw possibilities he’d never imagined. He saw, clear as day, everything she could become if given a chance and he saw what the two of them together could become. It was a strange, unexpected feeling.

“Are we … are we going back?” Bea asked, her voice thin and thready.

He linked his fingers with hers and tightened his hold.

“We’re not going back. We’re going to need to move fast, through the jungle. Can you do that for me, honey?” he finished, pulling on her hand.

“Yes.” There was no hesitation.

“Stay behind me and hold on to my belt. Anything I tell you to do, you do it. No questions asked.”

Though she nodded bravely, her body shook, and Rogue was disgusted at himself. She had been treated wrong, and here he was, doing exactly the same thing to her that others had done. Ordering her around, not giving her a choice. But he needed her safe, dammit. Whatever the cost.

Rogue fisted the knife in his hand and took the lead. He moved fast, slicing at the greenery ahead of them with his right hand, then pulling with his left to clear enough of a path for the two of them to get through. The knife in his hand was insufficient for the wilderness in front of them; he wished he’d thought of grabbing a machete on his way out.

Behind him, Bea’s breaths grew louder, more ragged, but her hand never left the back of his belt. And though Rogue knew she was strong for her size—day after day he’d seen her swim those endless laps—he also knew this couldn’t be easy for the slender young woman. She wasn’t used to the prolonged activity that he was currently demanding of her. Hell, he had eighty pounds of muscle on her; he’d trained for this and even he was finding it tough going, even more so in the dark. Still, she didn’t make a sound, beyond her panting breaths.

They were getting close to the location he’d shared with Dark. There, they’d be able to hide and wait until the team could pick them up. Hope soared within him. Everything was going to be fine. Everything…

In that instant, the sounds of the jungle died out. One moment the jungle was there—the trees saturated with the buzzing of insects, the clicking of bats, the raspy shrieks of creatures Rogue couldn’t identify. The next instant, it was gone.

Rogue stepped out into an unexpected clearing and put his knife down, his arm throbbing mercilessly. He took in the trees and plants, surrounding them on all sides. Where the hell?

“ La taza del demonio, ” Bea whispered. Her eyes were wider than he’d ever seen them.

La taza? As in, the devil’s toilet?

“That’s what the locals call it,” she whispered, pointing at a raised spot in the middle of the large clearing, “because nobody knows why it’s here.” The surrounding silence grew, bold and oppressive.

Then Rogue heard it. The sound of a quad. Multiple quads . At least three of them—close enough that he could hear the roar of each engine. Close enough that he could smell the fuel leaking from the throttle shaft.

Bea’s hand tightened on his back.

The animals heard it long before we did. That’s why everything is so quiet.

Rogue didn’t lie to himself. He knew exactly what was happening. Her uncle and his men had found them. Somehow, they’d tracked them to the clearing, and were going to cut them off.

“Bea?” he said, keeping his voice low.

“They’re here, aren’t they? My uncle’s here,” she whispered.

Fuck. There was nothing he could say. Rogue took a deep breath. They had a matter of seconds before they showed. He had to use those wisely.

“I can run,” she said. “If you need me to, I can run.”

Too late. We won’t be able to outrun them.

Rogue wanted so badly to lie to her, but that he wouldn’t do. He’d never felt this level of hopelessness before. Not even at his lowest, and he’d certainly sunk low in the past. The sound of the vehicles approaching grew louder. They’re surrounding us.

“Aguilar’s a hunter,” she said quietly, her lips barely moving.

Rogue reached back and grabbed her hand where it still held onto his belt, gripped it tightly. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Her eyes, dark with despair, locked onto his. Rogue held his breath, waiting for her to chew him out. He deserved the blame. He’d miscalculated every single step of the way. “It’s okay.” Rogue’s eyes widened. She’d managed to surprise him yet again. “It’s okay,” she repeated. “You tried to help me. I know that, and I am grateful. This isn’t your fault.”

Rogue wanted to kiss her. If they had seconds left, if this was all they’d ever have, he wanted to know what those beautiful, innocent lips tasted like.

He took a step back, roughly pulling himself from his stupor, as the first headlights appeared in the distance. They were still in the wrong spot but would be on them soon. Excited cries came from the vehicles. Two men in each quad. Six men total.

Taking on six men would be tough odds at the best of times. Taking them on when they were armed and he only had a small knife, while trying to protect Bea at the same time, was a suicide mission. There was no way out. Fuck.

Then the fog cleared from his mind, and Rogue realized there was one thing he could still do for Bea. He took a deep breath, steeling himself against what he had to do.