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“Wow.” He raised an eyebrow. "You must really love her.”
I scowled. Was this love? Or just some twisted sense of loyalty?
“All right then, Romeo,” he said. “What's the plan?”
“Got any blow darts on you?” I joked.
“Ha! Left mine at home, sorry.”
“There’s only four of them. And I don’t see a gun on any of them. Do you?”
He peered through his binoculars. “I see knives, spears, and bows and arrows. It’s the wild fucking west.”
“So, we sneak up behind them and take them down in a choke hold or a punch to the throat. Easy.”
Wyatt shrugged. “Sounds like a plan. And if that doesn’t work . . . then I’ll shoot ’em.”
“Done.” I gave a nod.
I scanned the perimeter of the hut for weaknesses or openings. “Once we’ve incapacitated them, we go in through the front door.”
“Ballsy.” Wyatt smirked. He lived for this shit.
Me too. I loved training the dogs, but I would switch it up for this any day. Provided it went to plan. “I got the lead. Watch your six. Let’s roll.”
“Roger that.” He clapped my back.
With my senses on high alert, I shoved through the dense foliage. Every sound, every rustle of leaves, seemed ten times louder than it probably was. Taking a wide berth from the hut, I clawed through the bushes until I stumbled upon a dirt track. Imagining that Layla had used this track many times, I crouched over and picked up my speed.
Just before the undergrowth gave way to the narrow clearing around the hut, I paused behind a bush with leaves bigger than my torso. The natives were so silent, it was like they were working in stealth mode. There was no friendly banter or orders being barked. The four of them stood like sentries guarding the hut.
They were all looking in the opposite direction to us, toward where the river was . . . according to the GPS.
“I get the impression they’re waiting for something,” I said.
Wyatt nodded. “Yeah. I don’t want to hang around to find out.”
“Me neither. You have the ugly one and the short one. I’ll take the two with their asses hanging out.”
“Bummer, I wanted them.”
I rolled my eyes. “Concentrate. Follow my lead and don’t kill them unless you have to. And don’t get dead.”
He saluted me. “Yes, boss.”
Shoving down the desperation clawing at my insides, I dashed out from the bushes and sprinted at the biggest bastard of the lot of them.
He spun around. His eyes bulged and a shout burst from his mouth as he raised the bow in his hands and reached for an arrow over his shoulder.
Charging at him, I pulled my flashlight from my clip and whacked it across his throat. He fell to his knees. As I ran at the next guy, Wyatt sprinted past me and took down another native in a full-body slam.
The next guy was as scrawny as all hell. I wrapped my arms around his neck, clutching him in a chokehold. He clawed at my arm and as I held firm, Wyatt punched the ugly native’s temple.
My man slumped in my arms. As I lowered him to the ground, my first guy screamed and raised a machete that was covered in blood.
Wyatt’s other native pulled a knife too.
The crazy look in their eyes hit a whole new level as they charged at us with wild abandon. Wyatt and I stood our ground, fists raised, taking the attack full on.