One Intrepid Seal. Elle James
the hell are you going?” he called out to her in a whisper he hoped couldn’t be heard by their pursuers.
In the pale glow from what little starlight penetrated the canopy, Brantley raced to the far edge of the clearing that surrounded the base of the tree and hung the piece of fabric on a bush. As quickly as she’d left, she returned to where Diesel again bent and held out his cupped hands. If they didn’t hurry, that little bit of fabric hanging on a bush wouldn’t make a difference.
“Go!” he urged.
Still, she hesitated. “I don’t know.”
“Don’t think. Just climb.”
Shouts in the jungle behind them had her stepping into the palms of his hands. He boosted her up to the first limb. When she had her balance, he handed her his rifle, and then pulled himself up beside her.
Without waiting for him to instruct her, Brantley climbed from limb to limb, rising high up the trunk to the vegetation that would provide sufficient concealment from the men wielding flashlights and weapons below.
As the men neared the tree, Brantley came to a stop. Diesel followed suit. For the next fifteen minutes, they sat silent in the tree.
Diesel breathed, held his breath and listened.
The sound of footsteps below indicated the men had reached the base of the tree. A light shined up into the branches.
Diesel glanced up.
Brantley hugged the trunk, pressing her body against the hard wood, making herself appear to be as much a part of the tree as its bark.
Diesel had laid his rifle along a thick horizontal branch, and then he laid himself across the branch, as well, bringing his feet up behind him to keep them from dangling over the sides. If he slipped an inch to the left or the right, he might fall off the branch and all the way to the ground. He didn’t think about falling. Instead, he focused on his balance and maintaining his silence.
A man below yelled. The flashlights were turned away from the branches of the tree and shined toward the far side of the clearing. Footsteps pounded through the brush, toward the jungle and way from the two people up in the tree.
Soon, the sound of humans faded away, and the creatures of the night sent up their own song.
“They’re gone,” Reese said. “Should we get down?”
Diesel sat up, his legs straddling the big branch. When he scooted back into the trunk, he found that there was enough room for two people to sit comfortably without falling out of the tree. “We’re staying the night here.”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” she said.
“I’m not sure which direction the rebels went. If we get down and follow them, they might decide to turn around and head back to camp. If we turn back the way we came, we might run into whoever they left behind.”
“Yeah, yeah. I get it. If we go deeper into the jungle, we might be lost for good, and the river is full of its own dangers.” She sighed. “I guess being up a tree for the night beats getting shot at or eaten by crocodiles...” Her words trailed off.
Diesel chuckled. “You don’t sound very enthusiastic.”
“I might be if I wasn’t just a little petrified of heights.” Her voice shook, and her teeth chattered.
“You’re kidding, right?” Diesel shined his flashlight with the red filtered lens up at her.
She remained glued to the tree above him, even though the enemy threat had moved on. As the light touched her face, she opened her eyes and looked down. “Oh, hell.” She squeezed them shut. “Shouldn’t have done that. No, no, no. Shouldn’t have done that.”
“What? Shined the light up at you?”
“No,” she said, her teeth clattering together so hard that Diesel was afraid she’d chip one.
“No. I shouldn’t have looked down.” Brantley’s arms tightened around the tree. “Now that I’m up here, I might as well stay awhile. I certainly won’t be getting down anytime soon.”
Good grief, the woman was beyond terrified. “Don’t move,” Diesel said. “I’m coming up.”
“Don’t move, he says.” Brantley laughed, the sound without amusement. “Trust me when I say, I couldn’t let go if I wanted to. So much for all the MMA training. It doesn’t help you conquer all of your fears. No, you have to climb up to the top of a giant tree to test the theory. You couldn’t just stand on the edge of a cliff. Noooo. You had to climb up a really tall tree in the dark, in a jungle, with an absolute stranger who could be just as much the enemy as the people who kidnapped you.”
A smile twitched at the corners of Diesel’s mouth at Brantley’s long monologue. He knew she was talking to keep from freaking out, but it was funny and kind of cute. She’d kept up with him in their mad dash to evade her captors. And she was a bodyguard and appeared to be capable of protecting herself. To Diesel, that spelled one tough chick.
Until she’d climbed a tree and looked down toward the ground.
Diesel pulled himself up to the next branch and the next, until he finally slung his leg over the limb Brantley was straddling, hugging the trunk with all of her might.
Diesel scooted closer.
Brantley glanced over her shoulder, nervously. “Don’t knock me off.”
“Wasn’t going to.” He inched toward her. “You know, there’s enough room for two to sit here all night.”
“So you say.” She didn’t let go of the tree trunk.
In the dark, Diesel couldn’t see her fingertips, but could imagine them curled into the bark.
When he was close enough to touch her back, she flinched.
“I’m not going to knock you off. I was hoping to reassure you that this limb is big enough for the two of us.” He wrapped his body around hers. “You’re as tense as a tightly wound rattlesnake with a brand new button on his tail.”
Brantley snorted. “Did you just fall off a horse in Texas?”
Diesel chuckled. “How did you know I was from Texas?”
“Lucky guess.” She inhaled, her back rubbing against Diesel’s chest. Letting the breath out in a long stream, she laughed. “I don’t suppose you know of anyone who’d hire a bodyguard who couldn’t keep her client safe?”
“Not off the top of my head. But then the odds were stacked against you on this assignment, from what I know.”
“Damned guide was in on the kidnapping,” she stated. “I should have seen it. Hell, I should have shot him when I realized he was taking us the wrong way.” She shook her head. “But I didn’t.”
“You might have had an international incident on your hands had you killed him.”
“Yeah, and he was driving when I considered it, at a breakneck speed, with Klein out front on the hood.”
“On the hood?”
“You know, in some kind of seat they rig up for the hunter. He was going after a leopard.”
“I thought they were protected.”
“Ferrence paid a hefty price for a real safari hunt. I think the guide assured him he could shoot just about anything.” The disgust in her voice was evident.
“You don’t much care for Mr. Klein?”
“Not really, but that doesn’t mean I wish ill on him.”
“Then why work for him?”
“I’m not. I work—worked—for his father, Matthew Klein. He hired me to protect his son. And a lot of good that did. I wouldn’t