Rogue Protector, page 7
Three men are spread out around the basin, each with a large, black plastic tub next to them and spades in their hands.
Poachers. Oh God. My lungs start to seize, and I pick up my pack and try to back away quietly, to get out of here and far enough away to be able to stop and retrieve my inhaler, but the panic tightening my chest spreads up to my throat, and I start coughing and wheezing. The closest man, tall, with forest green coveralls and a black raincoat, turns and stares right at me.
“Fuck! Arturo!” he shouts and sprints for me.
I won’t be able to breathe in another minute, but the look in his eyes…I have to run. My legs give out after two steps, and I crash to the ground, clawing at the zipper on my pack until he hauls me up by the arms and starts to shake me.
“You should not be here, bitch!”
My whole world starts to darken and fade away until a familiar voice reaches my ears through the roaring of my heartbeat. “Let go of her!”
As I’m about to lose the battle for consciousness, a hand braces the back of my neck and something presses to my lips.
“Breathe!” Corey says sharply, and a hit of Albuterol floods my mouth. I force myself to take as much of it in as I can, and the world in front of me starts to come back into soft focus.
I push the air from my lungs before Corey gives me another dose. “Fucking hell,” he mutters when I blink up at him, my entire body shaking. Rain pelts my cheeks, and the thunder cracks so close, he curses again.
The two other men loom over us. “You said you were positive she wouldn’t be here today,” the big one snaps.
“I was! We never visit a site alone,” Corey says, his brown eyes wild as his gaze pings between me and the man behind him. “I swear, Martín. I did everything you asked.”
“You’re an idiot,” Martín says. “Now we have to clean up your mistake.”
The young man I’ve worked with for two years flinches and tightens his hold on me. He’s crouching on the wet, rocky ground, my torso braced against his bent knee. “Why, Dr. Mik? You should be in the lab with Li.”
“Wh-what…are you doing?” I croak, my voice shaky from the meds and the looks on Martín and Arturo’s faces. “These plants…are protected. The government—”
“Governments can be bought,” Martín says, his eyes blazing with anger. “And these plants are worth a fortune.”
The third man—Arturo—rummages through a bag a few feet away and comes back with a thick, plastic zip tie. I push against Corey, trying to loosen his hold, but he’s too strong, and Arturo grabs my hands, fastens the zip tie around my wrists tightly, and yanks me to my feet.
“Please don’t hurt me,” I whimper.
Martín pulls a gun from a holster at his hip. “We should kill her now.” He nods towards the narrow entrance to the caldera. “Throw her off the side of the cliff. No one would question her falling to her death in this weather. Or we could knock her out and toss her in the river.”
“No!” Corey shoves Martín back, and the thug stumbles, but doesn’t go down. “You promised me no one would be hurt. I never would have helped you—”
“Your father owes the cartel more money than you can earn in a lifetime. You have no choice. But you said this grove would be deserted until tomorrow.” Martín shakes his head and adjusts his grip on the pistol. “Two options, asshole. We kill her now, or we sell her with the orchids. Pretty sure the cartel could find a buyer for a woman as pretty as she is.”
Oh God. No. They can’t.
But they can. I’m no match for these men, wouldn’t be even if my hands were free. Arturo still has an iron grip on my arms, and my heart is racing so fast, I’m terrified I’m going to succumb to another asthma attack any second. My gaze darts around the basin, to the narrow passage to freedom—or at least to a wider, more open space where I might be able to hide somewhere—but with the three of them surrounding me, and at least one of them armed, I’ll never make it more than a step or two.
“You won’t say anything, will you? Dr. Mik, you have to promise me,” Corey begs, pulling me away from Arturo and turning me to face him.
“I promise.” Anything to get out of this alive. How could Corey do this? To the orchids. To the chance for a real treatment for Parkinson’s. To the team. To me? “I’ll tell Li I couldn’t reach the site. The storm was too bad. We’ll just leave. Go back to the hotel like nothing ever happened.”
As if Mother Nature wants to help me sell my story, another bright flash of lightning pierces the canopy. The thunder is even louder than before, and Corey hunches his shoulders.
“She’s coming with us,” Arturo says as he hefts one of the large plastic totes with a massive orchid inside onto his shoulder.
Martín grabs a duffel bag full of tools and sneers at Corey as he passes us. “Bring her, fuckup, or you’ll find yourself tossed over the cliff with her. Once we deal with her, we’ll come back for the rest of the orchids.”
The wind makes it hard to see as Corey drags me along behind them. “Why?” I ask, tears mixing with the rain pelting my cheeks.
“My dad…he owes so much money.” His voice is choked with emotion, and he shakes his head as he pulls me through the narrow opening. The rocks scrape my left shoulder, tearing my poncho and the flannel shirt I have on underneath. “They were going to kill him. And the orchids are worth so much...”
“Even if they kill me—“ a sob wells in my throat, though I try to keep my voice low so only Corey can hear, “—you won’t get away with this. The government will find out about the poaching, and they’ll go after all three of you.”
“No. They won’t. Queenie? The Zebra Stripe hybrid? It’s virtually indistinguishable from the Blushing Note visually. Last year, I flew down here and set up a greenhouse for the cartel. I would have come back in October to harvest the Blushing Notes and replace them with the hybrids, but then the fellowship came through and…well…”
They’re taking me in the opposite direction of the lab, to the back side of the mountain, and as we pick our way over loose rocks on a path so narrow, Corey has to push me ahead of him, I get my first good look at a large plateau with a Jeep parked in the center.
Arturo and Martín load the tote and tools into the back, and Corey yanks me against his side. I’m shaking so hard, I can barely keep my knees from buckling.
Rainwater thunders down the mountain in a newly formed waterfall, bringing twigs, rocks, and even whole tree branches with it, a massive, liquid landslide to our right, and to the left of the plateau, the cliff drops off sharply.
Corey stops a good twenty feet from the Jeep and hisses in my ear. “Punch me, Dr. Mik. Kick me. Just do something and run. Please. It’s your only chance.”
I’ll never make it. Not as panicky as I am. Not over this unsteady ground.
All I can do is stare at Corey, pleading without words until he shakes me. “Do it. Now!”
If I don’t try…I’m dead. So I bring my hands out in front of me and ram my elbow into Corey’s gut. The strike is ineffective at best, but he plays it up, doubling over and crashing to his knees.
Spinning around, fighting off the lingering dizziness from the meds and my overwhelming terror, I take off a run back the way we came.
Behind me, Arturo and Martín shout, but with how loud the storm is all around me, I can’t hear what they’re saying, and I fight my urge to look back, to see how close they are.
My boots slip on the rocks, and with my hands tied, my balance is off. I crash against the side of the cliff, but miraculously don’t go down.
Keep going. Faster!
My legs start to burn, and the first wheezes and whispers of panic spread out from my chest.
Just. Breathe. If you don’t, you’re dead.
I repeat my new mantra over and over again, and for maybe a minute, it seems to work. But then rocks explode just in front of me, and a tiny shard slices my cheek. It isn’t until it happens again that I realize what it is. They’re shooting at me.
Blinding light sears my eyes, and a crack of thunder directly overhead makes me yelp. My left foot lands on a loose rock, and pain rockets from my ankle up my lower leg as I start to fall. Too afraid to think straight, I overcompensate and stumble across the narrow path.
No! I’m too close to the edge of the cliff, and I grab for something—anything—as I hit the ground and my head, shoulders, and chest dangle over the precipice. My arms are pinned under me, rocks digging into my hands, and I try to wriggle backwards, but I’m slipping by inches.
All I can see below me are spindly tree branches growing out of the nearly vertical cliff face, and a small, narrow ledge so far away, if I hit it, I’m sure I’ll die.
And then a hand grabs my ankle. “Bitch,” Arturo growls. “Guess I got what I wanted after all.”
I don’t understand what he means until he shoves me off the edge. Time shifts, moving so slowly, the tree branches come into perfect focus as I fall. I hit one, then another and another. I try to grab for them and snag my bound wrists for a split second until the branch breaks under my weight. The narrow outcropping rushes up to meet me, and my shoulder, hip, and head explode in pain.
My throat closes up, cutting off my scream, and I can’t move. Can’t think. Can’t do anything but fight to breathe until the darkness takes me.
Chapter Nine
Mikayla
I’m choking. Can’t get enough air. Every part of my body hurts. My head most of all. And my hip. Something sharp jabs into my skin, and after a few seconds, I realize I’m lying on my inhaler. I can feel it. Corey must have put it in my pocket after he dosed me back at the grow site.
Rolling over takes the last bit of energy I can muster. It’s so cold. My clothes are soaked through, and the rain… Water pours down from the top of the cliff above. I can hear it, feel it splatter against my back. If I hadn’t been lying on my side, I’d be dead already. Drowned by the runoff. The ledge is so narrow, barely six feet deep, and a stronger deluge pushes me closer to the edge, but I brace my feet against a rock jutting up from the uneven ground and manage to reclaim the few inches I lost.
Darkness surrounds me, and until a bolt of lightning brightens the sky in the distance, I don’t process that I must have been down here at least two hours already. It was still light when Arturo threw me off the cliff. They haven’t come back for me. Do they think I’m dead?
Inhaler. Focus on the inhaler.
It’s my only chance to live through the night. I can feel my throat closing up, and it’s like someone’s winding ropes around my torso, tighter and tighter. The sharp pain in my hip intensifies as I wedge my bound hands into my pocket and fumble for the medicine.
The mouthpiece is cracked, and as I pull it free, a thin whimper escapes my lips. The piece of plastic is embedded in my hip, and it burns. I can feel the blood coating my fingers, but the rain washes it away quickly.
If I can stop this attack, I can take stock of the rest of me. Not until then.
My whole focus is on breathing out…just a little. My hands shake as I wrap my lips around the busted plastic, and my fingers almost slip off the inhaler twice before I get a good enough grip. The metallic taste fills my mouth, and I concentrate hard on drawing in just a little. Enough to take a second hit.
But when I try for another dose, nothing happens. It’s empty.
No! Not now!
I’m so cold. My teeth chatter violently, and my entire body shivers, which only makes everything hurt more. I don’t think I have the strength—or even the will—to move again. No one will ever find me here. Halfway down a cliff in the middle of nowhere? It’s well after five now. Li’s probably panicking and blaming herself. She won’t come out here. Not in this storm. Not alone. At least she’ll be safe. She and Isaiah.
Unless Corey tells Arturo and Martín about them. Unless they decide we all need to die.
My parents…my friends…they’ll never know what happened to me. And Austin. This was supposed to be our tomorrow. Our chance to talk about all the things he wouldn’t say last night. To figure out if we had something worth fighting for.
Now we’ll never know. I’ll never feel his lips on mine again. His arm around me. I’d give anything to see him again. To be able to tell my parents I love them. To have a chance at living another day.
The only part of me that’s warm? My eyes. My tears stream across my nose and down my left temple, hot trails that cool all too soon. I’m not shivering as much anymore. That’s bad. My core temperature’s dropping too low.
I won’t last much longer, and maybe…the wind and the rain and the cold will be a blessing. Maybe I’ll just fade away. Fall asleep and never wake up.
Austin
It’s after eight, and I haven’t heard from Mik. I’ve been pacing for an hour, even put a note on my door and went down to the bar, poked my head into the restaurant, and scanned all the tables. If she got bad news today, would she hide in her room? She was so worried about losing credibility, not being able to continue her research…maybe she needs to be alone.
But if the worst happened, she’ll be leaving tomorrow, and I can’t just let her go without seeing her one more time. Determined to knock on her door and beg her to talk to me—if she’s in there—I climb the stairs, and as I reach the landing, I hear a woman’s panicked voice.
“Isaiah! Open the door! Dr. Mik went out to Site Three and never came back! She’s out there somewhere in the jungle. I need help!”
Racing down the hall as the door on the other side of Mik’s room opens, I call out, “Wait!”
The young woman—she can’t be older than mid-twenties—turns, and tears glisten on her cheeks. “You were with Dr. Mik last night,” she says, pointing at me. A man stumbles through the open door, not much older, looking like death itself.
“Yeah, I was. Where is she? What happened?”
“You could be the one who…who…did something to her!” She darts behind the guy, and he stands up a little straighter, though the look on his face is nothing but complete and total confusion.
I glare at them for having the gall to think I’d do anything to Mikayla. But they don’t know me and can’t have any clue about the code I live by, so I snap to full attention. “I’m retired Air Force Major General Austin J. Pritchard. Former head of Joint Special Operations Command. JSOC. You ever hear of it?”
They both shake their heads.
“We’re the ones who catch the bad guys. We oversee SEAL Team Six, Delta Force, and a whole lot more. You don’t get much higher as one of the good guys. I haven’t seen Mikayla since very early this morning. Tell me what happened.”
The woman peeks out from behind her cohort, and her voice is so soft, I have to strain to hear her words. “Isaiah and Corey were sick today, so it was just me and Dr. Mik. After we went out to Site Four and took all of our samples for the day, we went back to the lab, but Dr. Mik was so worried about Site One, she decided to go by herself.”
Shit. Hiking in the mountains alone?
The guy, Isaiah from the girl’s gesturing, takes her by the shoulders. “When did she leave?”
“A little after two. She promised me she’d be back by five. I waited until six-thirty before I came back here. I wanted to go after her, but the backup GPS unit wasn’t working, and the storm was too bad. We have to call the police.”
“The police aren’t going to send a search party deep into the mountains in the middle of a storm,” I say sharply, and both of them flinch. “If she’s lost—or hurt—I can find her.”
“How?” the woman asks. “You don’t know where any of the sites are, or the lab, or—"
“Presumably, you can tell me. I’m trained for this. Or was. It’s been a while since I’ve deployed on a search and rescue op, but I’m a hell of a lot more qualified than some city police officer.”
The two of them stare at me. Ten seconds. Twenty. Thirty. I’m about to bark orders at them when Isaiah clears his throat. “Li, where’s Corey?”
She shakes her head. “In his room, I guess. I came to see you first.”
“That’s your third?” I ask. “Where?”
Li points to the room across from Mik’s, and I pound on the door. “Open up. Now!”
There’s no answer, and I spin back around and level my gaze at Isaiah. “You two were sick?”
“Food poisoning,” he says, his voice rough. “We went to this dive bar...”
“Then where is he?”
The door opens, and Corey leans against the frame. Dark circles brace his eyes, and his hair is wet. The rumpled t-shirt and pajama pants cling to his frame, like he just got out of the shower. “Who the fuck are you?”
I repeat my introduction, and the kid’s bloodshot eyes widen when I give him my full title.
“Corey,” Li says, “Dr. Mik went out to Site One on her own and didn’t come back. General? Major? Pritchard says he can find her.”
“Goddammit. The weather report said we were in for a hell of a storm today.” Corey’s voice is strained, and I study him, trying to figure out why warning bells are going off in my head. But I’m so worried about Mikayla, I can’t think straight.
Focus. You’ve been trained for this.
“You’re sure you can find her?” Isaiah asks. “She has asthma. If she had an attack hiking, she could be in real trouble.”
“If you can get me the GPS coordinates for where she was going and show me the route she’d take to get there? Yes. I can.”
Corey staggers towards the other two, with all the grace of a guy who’s spent the entire day throwing up, and as I take a step closer to Isaiah’s room, the stench—like a garbage can lined with shit left out in the sun too long—hits me like a sledgehammer. “I’m in two-three-six. You three figure out what the fuck you’re going to do. I’m going to gear up so I can find her.”
“I’m still going to call the police,” Corey says and pulls a cell phone from the pocket of his pajama pants. “But you’re really in the Air Force?”
