Last Spy Standing. Dana Marton

then went for her first aid kit.

      Zak wiggled his eyebrows at Mitch from behind her. He glared back at the kid who seemed to have little on his brain beyond drugs and women. He looked decidedly less tired than he had before Megan showed up. His gaze kept returning to her, lingering on her curves.

      “Try to focus on something useful,” Mitch told him. “It tends to increase the chances of survival in a place like this.”

      He rolled his eyes, but asked, “Where do we cross?”

      “I’ll figure that out. Don’t you worry.”

      The woman’s glance darted to the river, concern in her eyes, before she returned her attention to the task at hand, her movements quick and efficient. He wouldn’t even have felt her light touch as she cleaned and bandaged his wound if he wasn’t so damned aware of her. He closed his eyes so at least he wouldn’t have to watch those long, slim fingers as they touched his skin.

      He stepped back the second she finished. “Thanks.”

      She couldn’t have been much older than the kid was. No more than late twenties. In some ways, he felt ancient compared to the two of them. A couple of years of black ops duty had a way of aging a person. But not enough, it seemed. He definitely wasn’t too old to appreciate the way she moved. He caught himself. He wasn’t any better than Kid Idiot, the two of them ogling her as she packed away her emergency kit.

      He cleared his throat and glanced up and down the river, evaluating the height of the opposite bank and the speed of the current. “We’ll cross right here,” he decided after a moment of deliberation.

      If the locals had picked this spot, it had to be the easiest crossing in the vicinity. He looked back at the jungle behind them, watching closely for a few seconds. Listening did no good—the noise of the river blocked any distant sounds. He didn’t see any flocks of birds suddenly taking flight or movement in the vegetation. That didn’t guarantee anything, but he’d learned over the years to trust his instincts. He felt reasonably sure that Juarez’s men hadn’t caught up with them yet. Crossing the river should be safe, as long as they didn’t stay out in the open longer than was absolutely necessary.

      “Let’s go.” He reached for the woman’s small hand and nodded for Zak to take the other one. They strode into the water, the three of them forming a human chain.

      “If we get separated and washed downriver, turn on your back and aim your body toward the other shore at an angle. Don’t fight the current. Work with it.” He had to raise his voice to be heard over the rushing of the river now that they were standing in the shallows.

      The water wasn’t high, but it moved fast in its narrow bed. Which was better than slow water and the pools it formed. At least, here they didn’t have to worry about piranhas, poisonous water snakes or alligators. All they had to contend with was the current and any logs that might wash along under the water. Being hit by one of those wouldn’t be pleasant. He knew from experience.

      Soon they were in up to their knees and Mitch fought to keep his balance. “Remember, if the water breaks you loose, stay on your back.”

      “Why?” Megan had his hand in a death grip, her delicate fingers folded tightly around his.

      “To protect your vital organs. There might be sharp rocks on the river bottom, or logs and other junk being swept along under the surface.”

      She paled.

      “You’ll be fine.” He was trying to find the right words to reassure someone like her, but came up empty. He felt like he should carry her out of the jungle without letting any danger touch her. He felt guilty that he couldn’t, then angry at himself for feeling guilty. He hadn’t asked for any of this.

      He couldn’t let her mess with his head. He had no time to mollycoddle her. He swore under his breath. She was definitely going to slow them down, despite her promises.

      But she did keep up in the water. He didn’t have to drag her or anything. She did slip once, but he was quick to haul her up against him.

      Wet top. Award-winning curves. Man, it’d been a long time since …

      He made himself look away.

      Zak’s eyes were seven kinds of shiny and glued to her. Mitch frowned at the kid and kept going, testing the river bottom with his foot at each step before putting his weight on it.

      In the end, he was the one who messed up. When she slipped again and this time went under, he was suddenly all thumbs, not wanting to grab anything, um, delicate. A moment of hesitation, but it cost him. As she scrambled to right herself, her frenetically moving legs kicked his legs right out from under him.

      Zak pulled her up. Mitch let go of her, not wanting to pull her back down with him. He tried to stand, but finding purchase on the muddy bottom was no easy task. His feet couldn’t find purchase on the slippery silt.

      The current carried him downriver.

      “Get to shore. I’ll find you,” he shouted back to them, trying not to swallow too much of the frothy water.

      Zak looked green with panic. She didn’t. Probably because she didn’t know enough to realize how much trouble they were in, two complete amateurs in the middle of a raging river.

      Chapter Two

      An eternity seemed to pass before Mitch crawled up the muddy bank on the other side of the river, exhausted from battling the current. He scanned the hillside behind him.

      No sign of Juarez’s men. Yet.

      He could see Megan helping Zak out of the water a few hundred feet away. She hadn’t panicked. In fact, she had enough presence of mind to even help the kid. Maybe she isn’t as helpless as she looks, he thought as he began marching toward them.

      “Better get into the woods and out of this sun.” He took charge when he reached them, leading them into the cover of the trees so they wouldn’t be seen from the other side. They could use some rest, and this place was as good as any.

      On closer inspection, she did look shaken. And more than a little lost. She kept casting worried looks at him. He couldn’t blame her. This morning she’d been on a bus tour that she’d thought was safe. She had no way of knowing that the only roads up here were the ones cut into the jungle by loggers who were little more than criminals, clearing the jungle illegally. Traversing those roads without permission from the local crime lord could be deadly. Without protection, the bandits who controlled the area would consider anyone on them free prey.

      Whoever had put her tour together was running an irresponsible operation, exploiting tourists who didn’t know better. He’d probably figured he could take a few people in and out quickly, without being seen. Idiot.

      And so were the people who would sign up for a trip like this. You couldn’t hire the first local guide that showed up at your hotel. Nor should you get on the first rickety bus that promised a grand adventure. He had half a mind to tell her that, but she looked like she’d already paid plenty for her error in judgment. She’d almost paid with her life. The thought set his teeth on edge.

      “What did your husband have to say about you coming all this way for a flower?” he asked once they were settled on a big rock, shaking water out of their boots. He wanted to know what kind of man would let a delicate woman like her come to a dangerous place like this.

      “I’m not married.” She finger combed her hair, then pulled her clothes away from her skin. She seemed to be trying to air-dry the fabric, but it wasn’t going to happen anytime soon considering the humidity level.

      He tried not to look much, but it wasn’t easy. She had perfect proportions. Everywhere. And a pretty face, with symmetrical features, thick lashes and full lips. She radiated a kind of wholesome innocence he didn’t know what to do with.

      He took the cheese and chunk of flatbread that they’d taken from the goatherds out of his waterproof backpack, and divided the food between Zak