The Edge of Trust: Team Edge (36 page)

He sliced through another vine, hoping Sara was somewhat distracted.  It was getting hotter, and he hated to push her, but time was running out.

“Anyway, my body was stretched to its limit with my foot never leaving the pressure mechanism.  I was off balance, so I dug my rifle into the sand and levered myself up straight.  I gotta say, I was sweating more than a cold glass in summer.  The instant I let my foot up, I knew all six of us would be history.

“I started yelling for the rest of the men to run for the chopper.  Then this old wise-ass Master Chief walks up to me, eyeballs me up and down and looks at my foot.  He circles me twice, taking his sweet time about it, even though there’s a boatload of tangos bearing down on us.  Then his eyes narrowed as he stared at me.  After a minute of contemplation he says, ‘Boy, what in damnation are you waitin’ for?  The bomb squad?  Get your ass on that chopper!’  Never mind that I was the ranking officer in charge.  When he saw that I wasn’t budging, he raised his boot and shoved me in the ass.  My foot came off the mine and I knew we’d all bought it.  Except nothing happened.  The mine was dead.”

“What if it hadn’t been?  Good grief, lots of mines from back in the day are still active.”  Sara sounded indignant on his behalf and he grinned.

“True.  And the Chief was taking a major chance.  Thing is though, it was a fifty-fifty shot.  If the mine were live, we’d have been killed.  If I hadn’t moved, the guys coming behind us would’ve slaughtered us.  The Chief gambled.  We won.”

“And that’s normal for you?” 

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Okay.  I can live with that.”

She had lived with that, she just hadn’t known it.  Now though, she was at least voicing her choice.  It made Dillon think.

“The guys give you grief?”

“For weeks.  Jake replaced my nine-millimeter with a cap gun.  Aaron booby-trapped the toilet seat, which by the way, caused the entire base to be without water for two days.  I got firecrackers tossed at me in the shower, Lito brought in a blow up doll named Betty and--”  Dillon figured he’d better stop while he was ahead.  Sara didn’t need to hear the rest of
that
particular story, especially since it wound up involving a very embarrassed Captain, a video camera and the Shore Patrol.  “Typical SEALs.”

Dillon didn’t think Sara had enough energy to laugh, but a giggle rippled up and out of her like champagne bubbles.  Her laugh was contagious and he smiled.  That was another thing he loved about her.  When she was happy, everyone around her was happy, too.  Especially him.

“Okay, so we’ll chalk that up to one of your not-so-great days, but what was your finest day, the best day of your life, a day that you’ll never forget?” 

Dillon missed the vine he was aiming for and hacked into a small tree trunk.  Pulling the machete out of the tree, he swung again and thought, the day I married you and pretty much every day since--except for the last year.  Considering the fact that he was trying to get her out of his life, he couldn’t very well say the words.  Instead, he gave her an answer he knew would go nowhere.  “I'm still working on it.”

Dillon whacked another vine, and then stopped abruptly, turning to shove Sara against a tree.  “Hold still,” he told her, his voice low.  His eyes narrowed as he cocked his head, “Listen.”

“What?  I don’t hear--”

“Shhh!”  He covered her mouth with his hand. 

Within seconds they heard the faint vibration grow louder.  A
whoop, whoop, whoop
, coming from directly overhead. 

Looking up, all Sara saw was a green canopy of leaves with small patches of blue sky showing through.  But every instinct inside her screamed danger before Dillon uttered the single word that confirmed it.

“Sanchez.” 

<><><>

Dillon pointed to a small rock formation butted up against a thick tangle of trees.  “There.  Go!”  He pushed Sara forward. 

She ran. 

He was right behind her. 

Bullets were right behind him.

Finally reaching the rocks, she ducked behind them and he was beside her in an instant.

“Don’t move.  Stay absolutely still.”  The chopper steadied on its heading, coming straight at them.  Bullets ricocheted off the rocks as the chopper passed directly overhead.

“We can’t even see them!  If we can’t see them, how can they see us?  How do they know where we are?”

“Motion detectors.  Probably seismic.  Maybe infrared.  Either we’re close to Sanchez’s fortress or he’s extremely paranoid.” 

If Dillon fired at the chopper with the rifle he had in his duffel bag, he’d be shooting blind, plus it would immediately give away their position.  Not only that, but there was no doubt in his mind that they were definitely out-gunned.  He knew better than to underestimate Rafael Sanchez.  Besides the chopper, the bastard probably had an entire band of guerillas out searching for them right now. 

One thing he knew, whoever was following them on foot was still out there and not too terribly far away now. 

The sound of the chopper grew louder once again as it made another pass.  Sara’s eyes dilated with angry fear. 

“It’s okay.  We’re fairly safe as long as we stay put.  Right now they’re just trying to smoke us out.” 

The distinctive whir of helicopter blades sounded behind them, drawing closer. 

He tipped Sara’s chin up so that her gaze met his.  “We’re too close to one of Sanchez’s sensors.  We need to move.  There’s a river due west of here.  Maybe half a mile.  And a waterfall.”  He knew they were close.  The waterfall had to be the one near Sanchez’s hideout.

He unstrapped his gun and holster and packed them into his duffel bag, damn glad both bags were waterproof.  Where they were headed, they’d need to be.  He didn’t tell Sara what lay ahead of them or what they were going to do.  Not knowing how she’d react, he refused to give her a chance to show him until it was too late.        

When the chopper veered off, he said, “Let’s go,” and headed out, this time at a much faster clip. 

<><><>

Sara followed right on his heels.  She didn’t know how she managed, her legs were still wobbly from fear and fatigue, but follow she did. 

Actually, she did know.  She did not like bullets, especially aimed at her or Dillon.

They ran and stumbled their way through the deep green growth before coming to an abrupt break in the trees.  The sound they’d heard for the last few hundred yards suddenly became a colossal roar that stopped them both, and had them unexpectedly teetering on the brink of a sheer cliff.  To their left, a huge waterfall poured off the earth, splashing down over two hundred feet below.  An enormous rainbow floated in the thick mist rising from the falls.

Sara grabbed Dillon’s arm as she gaped at the fall.  The thin air.

He yelled over the thunderous roar of rushing water, “Ever see
Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid?”

Sara sucked in a breath and backed up a step.  Oh no.  No way.  Nuh-uh.

He grinned and said, “Don’t worry, we’re not jumping.”  Then he muttered, “Yet,” under his breath and turned to go down the side of the mountain.

She balked.
 
“Yet, my ass.
 
If you think I’m jumping off perfectly stable ground into that death trap, you’re nuts.” 

With a shrug he said,
“I suppose that’s debatable,” then grabbed her hand and tugged her along behind him.
 
“Let’s go.”

She went, but she didn’t like wondering if he just might be crazy enough to jump over the side and take her with him.   

They went steadily downhill for several minutes, staying close to the edge, until their path dead-ended. 

Dillon stopped short and looked around.  The foliage was thinner here because the terrain was rockier, which totally sucked considering there was about twenty yards of open ground between them and the jungle canopy.  They’d be easy targets if they left the edge of trees now and tried going back into the jungle.

Wiping the sweat off his face with the bottom of his shirt, he knelt under the edge of a small tree to consider their options.  They could either make a run for it, leaving what little cover they had, and pray like hell, or jump.  The pool of water was only about ten or fifteen feet down now from their current position and he figured it wouldn’t be too bad of a jump, except for one thing.

The rapids.

If they jumped from here, there was a good chance they’d get sucked downriver by the rapids and even though he was a strong swimmer, he didn’t really want to take that chance with Sara.  She looked exhausted.

Which meant they were going to have to make a run for it back into the jungle.  Standing, he took a couple of steps into the open and looked up, shading his eyes with his hands.  Maybe if the chopper wasn’t too close—

Bullets erupted at his feet and he dove backward. 

Shit
.  So much for choices.

He grabbed Sara’s right hand with his left.  “On the count of three.” 

She looked at him as though he’d lost every bit of sense he’d ever had.
 
Hell, maybe he
was
nuts
,
but right now crazy was their only option.

<><><>

“One.”  He threw her duffel over the edge.

“Two.”  His went next.

“Three.”  Dillon jumped, Sara’s arm jerked hard and then suddenly she was airborne, her body weightless. 

Time stopped.  They hung suspended for the space of a heartbeat, with nothing beneath their feet but air, then gravity took hold and the turquoise water below rushed toward them. 

Bullets split the air, so infinitesimally close that Sara could hear the whining sound pass her ear.  Right now she wanted nothing more than to hit the water and go under—anything that would hide them from the chopper’s guns.

In the back of her panicked mind, she wondered if maybe this was it.  Seconds became hours, bullets flew past, and she was sure they were going to die.

The realization flashed through her mind that this was the end of the road.  The eleventh hour.  She was literally between the devil and the deep blue sea
…
and there was no way out.

In the next instant she hit feet first, and a mountain of frothy white water sucked her under.  She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, couldn’t do anything except pray. 

An eternity passed as she pitched and rolled beneath the water, clawing and fighting her way toward the surface.  Her eyes, nose, and mouth filled with churning water and her head felt like it was about to split open. 

Terrified, she tried to right herself, and lungs burning, finally emerged gasping for air only to swallow a mouthful of water before being tossed under again.  When she didn’t have an ounce of breath left, she fought her way clear of the turbulent foot of the falls, finally emerging to gulp in great breaths of air, only to have the river push her further downstream. 

Straight toward the rapids.

Frantic, she tried to grab onto something, anything to stop her forward momentum, but the rocks were slick and the banks of the river too far away. 

The rapids grabbed her and whisked her down river at a breakneck speed.

Before she realized what was happening, powerful hands grabbed her and pulled her away from the strong current, pulled her closer to the riverbank, giving her just the opening she needed.  

As the current weakened for a few precious seconds, she fought harder and finally broke through.  Sparse trees sheltered this part of the river, a few vines tangled against the bank, and she desperately pulled herself forward, her fingers clawing for a hold.  At last she managed to snag some sort of root. 

With her momentum finally stopped, Dillon managed to lift her out of the water and settle her on the soft undergrowth of the bank.  “Are you okay?”

Rising from her belly onto all fours, she choked, coughed, and for the next several seconds concentrated on getting in air.  One hacking breath after another.   “Oh.  My.  God!”

Once she finally caught her breath, she stood and checked herself over.  Nothing was broken but her whole body was drained and sore, and it felt like she’d just run a marathon even though she couldn’t have been in the water for more than two minutes.  Three at the most. 

They were maybe a quarter of a mile from where they’d jumped and the thin awning of leaves overhead didn’t afford much cover, so when she heard the familiar
whoop, whoop, whoop,
of the helicopter again, she froze.

The chopper wasn’t far, still overhead, circling, looking, hunting.  Getting closer.

Dillon grabbed the duffels from where he’d tossed them out of the river, grabbed her hand, and hauled her helter-skelter deeper into the jungle.
 
“Come on, Sara, hurry!”

“I’m trying!”
 

When they were relatively safe, Dillon said
,
“We’re going to stay put for a minute, give them a chance to head further downriver.”  He let go of her, dropped the bags and motioned for her to sit.

She didn’t move.  Wasn’t sure she could.  Between the bullets practically singeing her hair, nearly drowning, then being yanked into the jungle like a pull-toy, she hadn’t gotten quite coherent yet.

Dillon dug in his duffel for weapons and after checking to make sure they were loaded, stuck his pistol under his shirt at the small of his back and snapped up his rifle.  Ready to move out, he studied Sara’s face and asked, “Are you okay?”

She should have felt comforted by the concern in his voice.  She didn’t.  “Am I okay? 
Am I okay?
”  She wanted to hit him.  “You almost killed us!”

“We’d both be dead right now if we hadn’t jumped.”

“You both may be dead regardless.”  The cold voice spoke from directly behind them.

<><><>

Adoña sipped her wine and considered the man seated across from her on the veranda.  She did not trust him, but she did believe him.  When he’d come to her two years ago and told her that Dario was an undercover operative for the United States, that his real name was Dillon Caldwell, she’d been scared.  Scared enough to leave the only life she’d ever known behind.  If Dillon could get past her husband, finagle his way into their family, then so could a rival.