“I think that’s all that is salvageable,” he called down. There was a bit of thumping from the other room and Goran knew that the guard had finally understood what they were doing and was trying to break free from his restraints. But his sexy, adorable fiancée was damn good at securing wrists and ankles. The other guy wasn’t going anywhere.
Goran wrapped his hands around the rope held taught by her body weight, trapping the rope between his feet as he shimmied down the “rope”. He idly wondered if he would be as good at securing more delicate wrists. He’d tried that sort of experience before when one of his mistresses had asked him to tie her up, but he hadn’t been as into it as she had been. But the idea of a bound Calista, a time when he would have complete control over her incredible body…? The idea was much more appealing than he would have thought possible.
“Focus on getting out of this situation,” he grumbled as he lowered himself down to the ground.
As soon as he turned around, Calista was there and he wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her close to him. “Thanks for keeping the rope steady,” he murmured, brushing his lips over her mouth.
Unfortunately, she pulled back, blinking those long, dark lashes up at him. However, he could see the pulse pounding rapidly against the tender skin at the base of her neck. She was just as affected as he was, he thought with approval.
“Let’s go,” he grumbled.
“Wait!” she called out.
Goran stopped and turned back to her. “What? Do you…?”
He looked in the direction she was pointing and saw it. “A ladder!” he groaned. “Right!”
“We should climb back up and cut the rope down, right?” she suggested. “I mean, if someone comes to check on us, to make sure that the other guard is still okay, then it would be better if they didn’t immediately see the rope hanging down.”
He nodded sharply. “You’re right. A rope like that is a dead giveaway that someone escaped. And the most likely culprits would be us, the two people they are trying to keep restrained.”
“I’ll bring it over,” she told him, already walking towards the tall ladder.
“I’ve got…” he started to say, thinking that he didn’t want her to hurt herself by bringing over the heavy ladder. But she simply lifted the ladder up, carrying it over, then leaning it carefully against the opening through which they’d just descended.
“All set.” She then stepped back, a look of determination in those eyes that he was really coming to admire and…more? Yes, there was a hell of a lot more to Calista than he’d originally thought. Gone was the prim little ice princess and in her place was a strong, determined woman who was more than equal to the task of getting them out of this place!
With speed, he climbed the ladder and, with her shoe-knife, cut away the sheets and blankets, letting everything fall to the ground. When he was standing on the ground once more, she was already gathering up the “rope”.
“I’ll hide this in the jungle so that it’s not visible.”
“Be careful of the spiders,” he called out. He waited but Calista only hesitated for a brief moment before she continued walking into the lush green jungle. She went about ten steps, then tossed the “rope” on the ground, using her “new” heavy boots to scrape enough of the underbrush over the sheets to hide it from casual viewers.
“I’m going to hide the ladder,” he called out. He was carrying the ladder through several of the trees when he heard the sound.
Glancing over at Calista, he realized that she’d heard it too. They both froze for a precious second, but a brief moment later, he saw her rushing over the trampled ground towards him. She took a moment to bend over and grab the two bags of supplies while Goran tossed the ladder into the jungle. He didn’t bother to cover it up because there wasn’t time. The engine was getting louder and they needed to find cover.
“Get down,” he told her, but Calista was already by his side, bending down low so that the jungle foliage hid them from view.
Goran reached behind himself, pulling out one of the pistols. They both had the rifles slung over their bodies, but a pistol was usually more accurate and more maneuverable in close combat like this.
Thinking quickly, Goran watched as two guards stepped out of the Jeep. They weren’t paying much attention to their surroundings, which was a major failure in any sort of combat situation, he thought. But worse, they were joking around, slapping each other on the backs and laughing about their success. He made note of everything that these guards did wrong, needing to inform his own military commanders so that lessons could be learned.
“Tell me again how much we’re making on this insane mission?” the second man called out.
“Shut up and get the ladder, you freak!” another man called out.
The first man laughed, walking towards the space where the ladder had previously been leaning against the edge of the tree. “Where the hell did you put it after we left here the last time?”
The second man was pulling out a metal box, probably filled with more supplies, maybe even ammunition based on the strength of the steel box, but he looked over at the first guy, tilting his head towards the base of the tree. “It’s right there, you moron.”
Americans? Calista mouthed.
Goran listened for another moment, then shook his head. “No,” he mouthed right back. But he struggled to place the accent. It wasn’t quite American. At least not any American accent he’d ever heard of. Nor was it British or Irish. The accent definitely wasn’t Scottish or Welsh. There was no lilting quality to their vowels. Canadian? He considered that possibility for a long moment, then discarded it.
He suspected that these men were from all over the world, not pledging allegiance to any particular country. They were mercenaries, to be sure, but trying to figure out their nationality would be pointless. They weren’t associated with a particular country. Mercenaries lost their accents through time and effort, not wanting to be attributed to any specific region for fear of their competition or enemies, two different species, to dig into their past and discover a weakness. The lack of a specific accent also protected their families, if they had any. If one couldn’t find a mercenary’s loved ones, it was harder to find their Achilles heel.
“The ladder isn’t here!” the other guy called out, frustrated but becoming more alert, his head swiveling around as if searching the area for a threat. “You said you put it at the base of the tree?”