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But her friend had no way of knowing that.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
The heat was sweltering in the jungle depths, and Stan had been right about the terrain. The trail was so overgrown with tree roots; it was like an obstacle course.
Dusty remained tense and alert, not sure if Rocco would somehow find him or if he’d come across some island authorities who were on Nico’s payroll.
He paused at a clearing halfway up the mountain to rest, and the unmistakable sound of rotor blades chopping the air carried to him. He scanned the sky and saw a US Coast Guard copter approaching.
Dusty knew the US Coast Guard based in San Juan, Puerto Rico, maintained federal responsibility for the US Virgin Islands. He hoped it was here for him. Chris had all kinds of connections.
It disappeared behind the tree line, but he knew it had to be setting down at the ruins at the top of the mountain.
Dusty leaned against a tree and dug out his phone. He was down to three percent. This was his last chance. He’d made an earlier attempt at a call before he’d abandoned the car but couldn’t get service and hadn’t wanted to waste his battery.
He punched in the numbers and thanked God when he heard it ringing.
Stan picked up on the second ring. “Dusty?”
“Yeah,” he grunted.
“Where are you?”
“Headed to your fucking rendezvous spot. You couldn’t have picked some place easier to get to.”
“Quit your bitchin’. You know why I picked that. Are you hurt?”
“Took one in the shoulder. Is that you I just saw land?”
“Yeah. Caught us a primo ride. You should see this thing. Top-of-the-line everything.”
“Awesome. I’d love to see it now. I’m at the clearing halfway up.
“Right. We’re coming, hot shot. Hang tight.”
“Hey, Stan?”
“Yeah, partner?”
“Asia okay?”
“Yep. She’s fine. She’s on a ride back to Texas with Al right now.”
“Good.” Dusty hung up and closed his eyes, resting his head on the mangrove tree. She’d be with her family soon. Maybe before he made it to the mainland. It was for the best. At least he’d done what he’d promised he’d do. He’d gotten her home safely to Carter. “Mission accomplished,” he whispered.
He’d dozed off for a few minutes before hearing the thrashing sound coming through the forest. He opened his eyes and listened, trying to tell if it was coming from the direction of the helicopter at the summit, or if it was coming up from behind him, his hand closing around the butt of the pistol.
“Yo, Dusty!”
He relaxed, exhaling the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.
Stan came down the trail a moment later, Grady, Chris, and two coast guard medics carrying a litter close behind him. He knelt in front of Dusty.
“How’re you doing, brother?”
“Been better. Glad to see you.” His eyes lifted to Chris. “Hey, boss.”
The medics looked at his wound. “Duct tape. That’s a new one. Effective, though it’s gonna hurt like a bitch ripping it off.”
