Hit Hard. Amy J. Fetzer

      Four

      The gunshot went past his hip and into the bottom of the boat. Sam was on her, tearing the pistol from her. “Christ, woman!”

      “Oh God. You lied! Why would you lie?” She backed away from him. Man, he looked scary right now. “That was really dumb.”

      “Don’t point a weapon unless you plan to kill something!”

      “From what I’ve witnessed, that’s your job.”

      “Do you ever shut up?” He popped in a fresh clip. He’d miscounted, dammit.

      Viva reddened with embarrassment; it was a phrase she heard often.

      “Guys, we’re sinking.”

      A slow fountain of water bubbled in the side of the boat. Viva lurched across and stuck her finger in it.

      “Oh, that helps.”

      “It stopped, didn’t it? God, you’re such a pessimist.”

      Sam rubbed his mouth and looked ahead. “Head there.”

      “I see it.”

      There was a house on stilts, nearly in the water, its dock half sinking below the surface. Two children fished from the end, sitting more in the water than on the wood. The men rowed toward it and in range, Sam grabbed the post and swung them closer. He leapt from the boat, then reached for her. She was still stretched to keep her finger in the hole, and staring up at him, mutinous.

      “Give it up, Viva.”

      She climbed out under her own power. “You’re irritating, Sam Wyatt, and not very nice.”

      “You shot at me, for crissake.”

      “But I missed,” she said as if that made all the difference.

      It didn’t. She was an accident waiting to happen, Sam thought, and couldn’t wait to get rid of her and find Riley’s shooter.

      “Besides,” she kept on without missing a beat, “after what I’ve seen today, you’re a walking testimony to bad karma all the way around.”

      Max stepped onto the dock, and within seconds, the boat went nose up before sinking beneath the surface. Brown-skinned boys on the platform barely noticed them, as if they’d seen men with weapons every day.

      Viva knelt near the children, asking if they’d caught anything, how long they’d been out here, did they see any bad men with guns pass through here? The boys answered until the last question, then peered around her at the two men. “I know they look scary, but they won’t hurt you. The train to Bangkok is near?”

      The boys answered in rapid, choppy Thai, pointing out directions. All up hill. They spoke for a few more minutes before she slipped them a couple bhat, then straightened.

      Sam looked at her like she’d grown another head, or in his case, a new brain. “What?”

      “You’re fluent.”

      She laughed. “There are about forty dialects. Nobody is fluent in Thai.” She walked off the dock, finger combing her hair. Her boots squished with water, the butt of her shorts sagging. “The road is this way, a few kilometers. I’m going to hitch a ride or something. Thanks for the rescue.” She waved over her head.

      “We shouldn’t let her go alone.” Max frowned at her as she moved past the house to the left toward the barely visible path that rose nearly straight up the hillside.

      Sam was examining his rifle. It was useless until he could clean the sludge out of it. “You want to keep her around? She’s trouble.”

      “We didn’t get them all. They’ll hunt us and her.”

      And she’d be noticeable. A redhead in Thailand. Worse than a Yankee at a Texas barbeque.

      “And we brought her into this,” Sam admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “We have to at least get her wherever she wants.” He looked up as she peeled off her wet shirt, then wrung it out. Beneath it, she wore a sports bra thing that showed off her tan and narrow waist. For a moment, he wanted her to face him, let him see what that baggy shirt had hidden, what he’d felt pressed to him.

      Why did she have to be a redhead?

      Then she shook her head like a dog, the motion making her lose her footing. She righted herself, then walked more stiffly. He imagined her cheeks reddening, and Sam’s lips curved. Damn if she wasn’t the most entertaining nightmare he’d ever had.

      “We’re stuck with her for now.” He called out, but she didn’t respond, melting into the forest, alone. “Christ, see what I mean?” Sam stormed after her, muttering, “God gave a frog a brain and shared half of it with her.”

      Max didn’t follow immediately, his amusement dying as his gaze slid over the terrain, the way they’d come. They’d just pissed off the Thai mafia.

      Viva was the least of their problems.

      Inside the dense branches, she hid, watching the small boat slide to the dock on flat water. She couldn’t hit them at this distance, but knew where they’d go. They had little choice but to cross the jungle. She studied their faces, put them to memory. Her master would make certain they’d never speak of this. She lingered a moment longer, then began the careful climb to the ground.

      Below her, the bodies of tho thahan were like tumbled matchsticks, spent and useless. She’d take nothing from the soldiers. They weren’t hers. Her foot touched the ground, soundless, and she quickly shifted beyond the dead, her ears tuned to the predators prancing slowly from the darkness to come feast on the still warm flesh.

      The jungle wrapped her like a lover, her body glistening with its liquid touch as she moved quickly, her destination preordained, her task far from done.

      The river vanished behind Viva, closed out by the dense tropical forest.

      She didn’t hear him move up behind her, but she felt it. His presence like a whisper, sensation without substance. It was the most amazing feeling she’d ever experienced, and she tipped her head slightly, acknowledging him, yet she said nothing.

      He moved quickly abreast of her, hacking mercilessly at the jungle when the path narrowed. “Keep moving, Viva.” He walked backwards a couple steps, weapon aimed.

      She glanced, stumbled. “They’re still out there, you think?”

      “Definitely.” Sam hurried her forward.

      “But you put the fear of automatic weapons in them.”

      “We were just lucky. This is their playground.” He signaled Max to stay to the left.

      Hurriedly, she slipped her shirt back on and started buttoning it.

      “Now that’s just a shame.”

      Her gaze jerked his, confused till his gaze flicked to her breasts cupped in tight spandex. “Back off, Wyatt.”

      “No problem there, ma’am, you bite.”

      She blinked, then smiled brightly, making her eyes light up and turn her expression from pretty to downright electric. The power of it hit Sam dead center of his chest and left heat snaking down his body.

      Man, he didn’t need that, not now.

      “This hasn’t been a normal day.”

      For her, maybe, he thought, watching his six.

      Viva noticed that though he appeared to be relaxed, he wasn’t; his gaze darted around them, picked a new spot at each new scan. The machete was slung at his hip, and his finger was on the trigger of the rifle. And without touching him, she knew his shoulders were tight. “Who are you, Sam Wyatt?” she asked softly.

      He simply watched the land, not responding.

      “Listen, Sparky, I’m