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He nodded just as a monkey screamed above him. The men stopped, looking in that direction. The moment they saw Nando, all three pulled their guns.
“Who are you?” one asked in Spanish.
Nando froze, then slowly raised his hands, telling them his name.
“Who else is with you?” one of the men demanded as the other two turned their weapons to cover both directions of the trail.
Remi stepped back into the shadows, ducking down, fully expecting Nando to look toward her. But he shook his head, saying, “No one. I’m a student at the university. I’m hiking alone.”
They didn’t believe him. One reached out, grabbed him by his collar, while another shoved the barrel of his rifle against Nando’s chest. The third turned about, searching for signs of anyone else in the area.
Apparently satisfied that Nando was truly alone, one said, “Search him.”
They did, taking his machete.
“Bring him along.”
The first man shoved Nando forward, forcing him down the trail.
And just as Remi drew her gun, figuring she could take them out as they headed down the trail, two more men arrived, and, from the sound of it, there was at least one or more farther down the trail.
And all of them were headed in Sam’s direction.
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Sam didn’t like the look of the trail, even more so now that he’d had a better view of it. When he saw the trip wire up ahead, his suspicions were confirmed. Drug runner trail, if ever he saw one.
So much for this path, he thought, turning back. He hadn’t gone more than a few feet when he heard voices coming toward him. Men talking loud enough to be heard over the cacophony of insects and birds.
He drew his gun and stepped off the trail, ducking behind a broad-fronded fern. Finger on the trigger, he tried to hear what they were saying, their heavily accented English making it difficult to understand—until one voice stood out. And this one he recognized—Nando, their guide.
The first two men walked into view, followed by Nando, and then a third man, who seemed to relish shoving his gun into the guide’s back.
Sam listened, trying to find out what happened, and where Remi was.
His patience paid off when he heard Nando saying, “Where are you taking me?”
“Shut up,” the man at his back said.
“Just leave me here. I’m alone. One man against six. How can I possibly harm you?”
“By sending someone after us.” He shoved Nando, causing him to stumble forward. “Now, shut up before I change my mind and kill you where you stand.”
“Hold up,” the lead man said. “Wait for the others.”
A minute later, three more men came up from behind, each carrying a fully automatic rifle. Sam knew the moment he saw them, saw the way they covered the trail on either side as well as front and back, that they were highly trained. Had it not been for Nando’s warning—and Sam was sure he’d worked their number into the conversation as a warning—Sam might have tried to take out the first three before he realized there were more men. He might get off two decent shots, but they’d have little difficulty taking him out before he got off a third.
He’d be dead.
Parting the fronds slightly, he watched as they walked past. When they stopped to step over the trip wire, Sam caught sight of a tattoo on the forearm of the man bringing up the rear.
A wolf’s head.
What were the chances?
He waited for them to pass, listening until their footsteps and voices faded in the distance. Confident that no one else was on the trail, he stepped out, then made his way back to where he’d left Remi, grateful that there was no sign of any struggle or that she’d been harmed.
“Remi?” he whispered.