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“Fucking hell. It’s just monkeys.” Wyatt stood, shaking his head.
Huffing a forceful breath, I stood too. “Thank Christ! I thought we were about to be headhunted.”
“Me too.” Wyatt holstered his weapon.
The two monkeys became about fifty, and they were so loud it was impossible to hear myself think.
I checked my watch. “Damn it. We’ve already taken an hour.”
If Wyatt heard me, he didn’t indicate.
I confirmed our heading on the GPS and pushed in front of Wyatt, taking the lead again.
The damp, oppressive heat of the jungle closed in around me and my heart raced with both forcing through the unforgiving jungle, and my dread over Layla being trapped in this fucking place.
“What did you say Layla was doing out here?” Wyatt must be reading my mind.
“I have no idea. When I last saw her, she was volunteering at the burns unit in the military hospital.”
“Oh . . . she’s the nurse you talked about.”
“She’s not a nurse, but yeah that’s her. Layla Snowden.”Eyes that stole my breath. Hands that soothed my wounds. Lips that took me to another world. Heart breaker. Layla.
“And she’s the one who . . .” His words trailed off.
“Yeah, pissed off without saying goodbye.”
“Right,” Wyatt said like all the pieces slotted together.
At the top of a rise, I pulled my binoculars from my kit and peered across millions of trees. “There. Eleven o’clock.”
Nestled among the trees was a thatched roof.
“It’s got to be it,” I said.
The building was barely visible, and it was impossible to see around the back or far side.
“Thank Christ.” Wyatt pulled his water bottle from his hip and took a swig. “I was beginning to think this was some kind of sick joke.”
“Nope. Not a sick joke, and neither are those natives guarding the hut.”
He peered through his binoculars.
“I count four,” I said.
The natives wore a loin cloth, bits of leather strapping around their calf muscles and biceps, and a whole lot of red paint on their faces.
“I see them. Are they wearing war paint?”
“It’s nothappy to see youmake-up, that’s for sure.” My blood boiled as I studied the natives who stood between me and Layla. I wanted to rip their fucking heads off, but Layla’s request echoed in my mind . . .Please, don't kill anyone.
My mind raced as I tried to figure out how we could get past them without resorting to violence. But I had to. I would do anything for Layla.
“Damn it.” Clamping my fists, I turned to Wyatt. “We can't kill these guys.”
He slapped the gun in his thigh holster. “Ah, yes, we can.”
“Layla doesn’t want us to, so we need to figure out another way.”