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“Yes. That’s what I must be doing. There can’t possibly be any other explanation.”
“How about we drop the sarcasm and focus on getting out of here alive.”
“You can if you want. I like my sarcasm. I’m quite attached to it.”
“Get moving,” he ordered her again.
He held the stolen rifle in front of him and hoped like hell their captors were far, far away. If they weren’t, he was prepared to strike first and ask questions later. But he’d have to make every shot count. Their ammunition was sorely limited. For the first time in his life, he wished he were as deadly with a gun as he was with his fists. Not that his aim was bad, but he hadn’t practised as much as his friends. There was no need for it. It was a decision he had come to regret.
“Can you fire a gun?” he asked Belinda, suddenl
y aware that if something happened to him, she would have to survive on her own.
“Sure. I’ve had to do it for several movies.”
He felt his ire rise every time she mentioned her profession. It was totally unreasonable. But he still couldn’t seem to stop the reaction. Actors were liars by trade. And Beast hated liars. “Can you fire a real gun?”
“They were real guns.” Now she sounded irritated.
“Can you hit anything you fire at?”
“Well, I don’t know that part. I only ever fired blanks.”
Beast looked heavenwards and asked for patience.
“I’m good with a bow and arrow, though. I had to learn archery for a movie once.”
“We don’t have a bow and arrow. We have a gun.”
“I wonder if we could make a bow and arrow,” Belinda said. “I mean, how hard can it be?”
Beast deeply regretted bringing up the subject of weapons. It was clear that when it came to defending them, he was on his own.
“I’m good with throwing stars, too,” Belinda told him as she pushed a palm out of her way.
“Are you good with anything we have on us?”
There was a long pause while her little airhead mulled that over. “No.” She let out a heavy sigh. “We should have kept the shoes. I’m sure I could have taken someone out with a four-inch pair of Jimmy Choos.”
Beast bit back a groan.
Belinda was sure she smelled like a herd of white-lipped peccaries. That kind of stink had a tendency to cling to everything it touched. They’d been going steadily uphill for hours, and Belinda felt her thigh muscles ache. She looked up but saw only green above her. The trees reached high into the sky and then exploded with lush, dense foliage. She wondered if there were rain clouds beyond those leaves. She could use the shower. It felt like they had been trekking through mud for hours. It came up to her knees and had gotten into her shoes; her toes squelched with each step she took. There were mud streaks on her hands, in her hair, on her face. The only bonus to being covered in mud was that it acted as a barrier between her and the mosquitoes who thought she was a tasty treat.
And she was thirsty. So darn thirsty. How was it possible to be surrounded by so much mud, but not one drop of clear, cool water? There was no sound of a flowing stream or rush of a river. No tell-tale pitter-patter of raindrops falling. This was the rainforest, and she was going to die of thirst.
“I need to drink.” She hated that her words came out as a whine, but she was dying of thirst and exhaustion.
“We’ll find water soon.” He didn’t sound convinced.
Neither was Belinda. They’d been walking for hours and the only water they’d seen was filled with dirt. She scanned the area again, hoping there was a source of water she’d missed. All she saw was a bunch of ants making a trail down the tree and across the ground. Each one carried a perfectly cut piece of leaf. Because the ants were so tiny and the leaf pieces so big, it looked like the leaves were walking away from the tree all on their own. She stopped to watch, fascinated by the sight.
“The leaves are walking.” She couldn’t help but smile as she watched the thousands of pieces of leaf move up and down the tree.
“But you aren’t.” Beast prodded her shoulder to make her keep walking.
“You know, when I played a kidnap victim, it was a whole lot more fun than this.”
“Do I have to explain the difference between reality and make-believe to you again?”
