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“I understand. I like that you want to curl around me. That is a sign you are trusting me a little more.”
“I don’t know where this is leading.”
He laughed a little. “Neither of us do, Lauren. But this is all in your hands and your decisions. I am here for you, no matter what. I want to earn your trust. It is up to you to tell me what you do or not want to do where we are concerned. Okay?”
She compressed her lips, hearing the thunder in the distance. “Yes, and thank you for having the patience you have with me. I need to earn your trust, too.”
“Malen ‘kaya, do not worry. Good things in one’s life often take time. We are on a journey of discovery with one another and I am grateful you are at my side in whatever way is comfortable for you.”
She felt tears burn in her eyes, wiping them away. “Okay… you are a type of man I’ve never met in my life.”
A rumble of a chuckle reverberated in his chest as he washed himself. “We are on an exploration adventure with one another. There is no hurry, no demands. I like building our trust with one another. It is a good way to be with a person.”
CHAPTER 13
It was stillraining the next morning when they broke camp and started down a major trail that would lead them to the village called Kurmi. Its Quechua name meant ‘rainbow’ in English. It was also a village that the American charity, Helping Hands, supported with a new well that had just recently been dug so they could have clean, safe drinking water. Lauren was number three in the line, hefting her ruck and carrying all of her own gear. The rain was light, but by the time they’d established a twenty-minute-mile pace she was soaked, grateful for her camouflage floppy brimmed hat, for the way the rain dripped off it and not down her face or into her eyes. She felt Alex behind her. Killmer was in the lead as point man, a good tenth of a mile ahead of the main group, keeping watch for tangos, enemies. Cale Merrill brought up the rear. The Special Forces operators all carried their rifles, barrels down toward the ground. If they were really expecting trouble, Lauren knew they’d have those barrels up toward the sky. It made it quicker to lower them and fire. Split seconds could determine life and death.
The path was slippery red clay, and she knew the village of Kurmi could be reached by two different paths. They had chosen a gentle slope that took them down to six thousand feet in order to check out what Killmer termed ‘Jaguar Hill’, and possibly set up an op. They were operating in Petrov’s territory. Although Killmer couldn’t be a hundred percent sure if the Russian mafia team was or wasn’t in the area. They had followed the Russians enough in the past to have cause to hope they were on another trail, headed for another village. But no one really knew for sure, which was why she was alert, on guard and listening to the sounds ahead of her up the trail. The rain effectively acted like a muffler, muting noises to a high degree. And since Petrov and his men were ex-Spetsnaz, they weren’t going to give their whereabouts away by talking any more than necessary.
Lauren knew it was a game of chicken. Killmer had gone over egress routes in case they ran into the Russians. There were always contingency plans in case they got scattered and had to regroup at the rally point. Worst case scenario, Lauren knew, was to unexpectedly run up on Petrov and his men and have a firefight ensue. Bullets would be flying and there weren’t a hell of a lot of places to hide if that happened. Today, as on every other day, she and Alex wore their concealed Dragon Skin vests beneath their cammo blouses. She silently thanked Jack Driscoll, CEO of Shield, who had put out thousands of dollars on each one of these lightweight, bullet-stopping vests for his people. They weighed three pounds each, compared to the thirty- to-sixty-pound Kevlar vests that the military had to use with black ops teams. The weight of those vests took a tremendous physical toll on anyone who was on patrol or had to march any distance. With Dragon Skin, Lauren felt as if she weren’t even wearing one, and she could maintain the blistering pace Killmer had set for them, raining or not.
They arrived at the village of Kurmi at noon. The rain had stopped for now, the ragged white clouds hanging over the top of the canopy. This was a small village of about seventy people. Killmer had briefed them on it earlier. The huts were made of grass, vines and leaves and were set in neat rows, mud puddles in the streets between them. The children were out playing in those, splashing barefoot, nearly naked except for colorful shorts that looked threadbare to Lauren. The women were busy at metal tripods that suspended black iron kettles over sheltered areas where a fire could burn despite the daily rain, and where food could be cooked.
Killmer strode into the village, heading directly for the chief’s house. Alex knew the routine. The sergeant spoke Quechua, the native language. Among the important things Army Special Forces had to do were know the people of the villages, the leaders, and speak the local language. Most other black ops groups didn’t, and Killmer found the Special Forces way a far better resource to get the people on their side. Or at least, to gain their trust enough so they would give them vital, perishable intel.
Cale Merrill jogged up to them. “There’s an empty hut over there,” and he pointed down the most major street in the village. “We’ll put all our gear in there. Come on, follow me.”
Lauren was looking around. She had spotted what they called ‘Jaguar Hill’, half a mile back on the trail. It wasn’t much of a hill, maybe a hundred feet higher than the trail that wound past it. What was important, from her perspective as a sniper, was that the trail before the hill was straight for nearly five hundred yards. That would give her a clear, unobstructed shot in the event the Russian team rounded that corner before coming down the straightaway. Despite her discomfort about the local jaguar with cubs, she felt Killmer had hit paydirt with this site.
Her clothing was wet, chaffing against her flesh. As they put their gear inside the large, empty and dry hut, Lauren felt the cramps in her lower legs. She pulled her CamelBak hose and stuck it in her mouth, hydrating as she waited outside for Alex. Looking around, she saw a small group of brown-skinned, black-haired children standing shyly nearby, watching her intently. It must be her red hair that they were fascinated with. Their dark brown eyes shined with curiosity. When Lauren removed her wet hat, slapping it against her leg to get rid of some of the water soaked into it, the children, as a group, drew closer, all gazes on her hair.
Alex came to her side. “They are entranced with the color of your hair,” he told her. “They do not see blond or red hair out here.”
Lauren looked up. Alex was fully in operator mode. His game face was in place. “They’re beautiful children,” she murmured.
“They like candy,” and he smiled a little, watching them creep a little closer, their inquisitiveness stronger than their fear.
“I’ve brought some,” Lauren murmured, opening up the cargo pocket on her right thigh. “What’s the protocol here? Will the chief of the village get upset if I give them some or not?” She saw his strong mouth draw up into a slight smile, his gaze ranging around the area where the village sat.
“The chief will not mind. Kids are the same everywhere,” he told her. “Just slowly approach them. When you get about ten feet away from them, kneel or crouch down. You are very tall in their eyes and that makes them unsure of you. To them, you are a giant. If you crouch, they will surround you. Do not be surprised if they want to reach out and touch your head or your horse tail.”
He saw the amusement glitter in her eyes. “Pony tail, Alex.”
He had the good grace to blush. “Slang has shot off my foot, again… yes, pony tail, thank you. I will put this in my notebook later.”
She grinned and didn’t’ have the heart to correct him on shooting himself in the foot, instead. “No worries.”
She didn’t have the heart to tell him about the foot shot versus shooting one’s self in the foot. “We have nothing to do until Killmer gets back after talking with the chief,” and Lauren saw him nod, as if to tell her to go ahead and engage with the excited children.
Alex watched Lauren walk slowly in their direction. The children were wary because of their encounters with the Russians. They weren’t sure if this group were Russians or someone else. He knew, from two years of first-hand experience, that Vlad Alexandrov hated children. He would kick at them, curse them and threaten to hit them. Any time they had gone into a Quechua village, the women and children had run away and hidden in their huts, afraid of them. And they had good reason for that fear.
His heart opened as Lauren smiled and called hello in Spanish. The children didn’t understand what she said, but that didn’t matter. Alex could see that her warm, engaging smile, and her soft, husky voice had already won them over. There were five little girls in the group and six boys. They clung together like a ragged, colorful wall of fabrics until Lauren knelt down on one knee, extending her hand out toward them with red-wrapped hard candy in her palm. Then, the children surged forward, surrounding her. He chuckled, watching the little girls swarming behind her, eagerly touching her hair, running their small fingers through the damp strands. They lifted her hair, amazement on their tiny faces. The boys, on the other hand, went straight for the candy.
Merrill came up beside Alex and chuckled. “She’s got a way with those kids.”
“Yes.”
“We can’t hardly get them to come anywhere near us.” Cale scowled. “Damned Russians have made them fearful of everyone.”
