Page 2

Cyclone

T he jungle felt wrong.

Still. Heavy. Like something holding its breath.

We’d made camp in a small clearing surrounded by thick brush, with Faron taking first watch. I was prepping the perimeter when I heard it—leaves shifting. Not the soft kind from a breeze. This was heavier. Measured.

Movement.

“Faron,” I said low, already moving toward the treeline.

“Got it,” he replied, weapon raised.

I signaled sister Jude to keep the women down. “Stay put.” I whispered. She crouched low beside them, her expression serious for once. No sarcasm. Just focus like she'd done this before.

Another mark in the who the hell is this woman column. What is wrong with me? She’s a nun.

I stepped into the foliage, rifle up, heart steady. I wasn’t worried for me. I was worried for them.

Then I saw it.

A tripwire.

I froze.

“Bomb?” Faron asked behind me.

“No. Flare.” I carefully disabled the trigger. “They’re tracking. Close.”

Jude appeared behind us—because of course she did—ignoring my whispered “Stay put.”

“Didn’t you hear me?” I hissed.

“I heard you. But I also heard boots about thirty yards out. Multiple pairs. Heading this way.”

Faron and I exchanged a look.

“How the hell do you know that?” I asked.

She just smiled. “You’re not the only one with ears, soldier.”

We moved fast—broke camp in under one minute. The nuns were quiet and obedient, except the one with the handmade spear. Sister Jude helped one of them strap on a backpack like she’d done it a thousand times.

She looked at me across the flickering shadows. “They’re gonna catch us if we keep this pace.”

“Any bright ideas, Sister?”

She smirked. “Ever jumped off a cliff into a river before?”

Faron groaned. “Why do I feel like that’s not a metaphor?”

Ten minutes later, “I hate this plan,” I growled.

“You hate all plans that aren’t yours,” Sister Jude said, already tying a vine around a branch to use as a swing rope.

She didn’t wait.

She just jumped.

A flash of dark hair, the shout of “WOOOOO!” as she disappeared over the edge, and then— splash.

I stared at the spot where she’d vanished.

“She’s not a nun,” I muttered. “She can’t be.”

Faron patted my shoulder. “Of course she is?”

I jumped in after her. Then the other nuns jumped behind me, and then Faron jumped last.

The second my body hit the water, the world exploded into chaos.

I plunged deep into the river, boots kicking, the current tearing at me like it had a personal grudge. When I surfaced, gasping, all I saw was jungle on both sides and foam crashing against rocks.

And her.

Sister Jude was already swimming hard, one hand pulling Sister Margaret along with her. She turned just long enough to shout, “Help the others!”

No hesitation. Just mission-first instincts. Just like us.

We got all four nuns into the water, Faron keeping pace behind me, the current dragging us fast and far. I reached Sister Jude just in time to see her foot slip on a submerged rock.

“Got you,” I grunted, grabbing her arm.

“I had me,” she shot back, breathing heavily.

“You’re welcome,” I said, pulling her to the riverbank with the others. We scrambled up the muddy slope, soaking wet, scratched up a little from the rocks, and the nuns looked like they were barely holding it together.

But they were alive.

Once we were clear and the others had caught their breath, I pulled Sister Jude aside.

“You okay?” I asked.

She nodded, chest heaving, eyes sharp. “Yes, I’m fine. I need to check on the others.”

I should’ve walked away. Should’ve stayed focused. But something about her—this woman in a torn habit with a wicked grin and too many secrets—had crawled under my skin.

“You ever think about what you’d say if it all ended tomorrow?” I asked suddenly, not sure why those words were coming out of my mouth now.

She blinked. “Wow. Dark turn.”

“Just answer.”

Her smirk faltered. She looked at me—really looked. “I’d say I regret not kissing someone when I had the chance.”

My throat went dry.

“Yeah?” I said roughly. “Me too.”

And then— we leaned in.

Close. Closer.

I saw it all in that second: the fire in her eyes and her lips parted like she was daring me to close the gap. My hand found her waist. Her breath hitched.

And just before our mouths met—

“HEY!” Faron’s voice cut through the trees. “Not to interrupt the whole jungle love story, but we’ve got company! Movement!”

The moment shattered.

We sprang apart.

“I’m sorry, sister.”

Jude’s face flushed, but she gave me a quick wink. “Saved by Faron.”

I groaned.

“Right now? We run.”

And we did.

Side by side, through mud and vines and adrenaline. Our almost-kiss hanging in the air like a live wire, sparking every time our eyes met. Damn Beau Allen you can’t kiss a nun. Right? Yes right!

I ran up next to the nuns. “left your habit up, you can run faster,” they looked at me like I told them to strip naked.

“He means like this,” sister Jude explained, showing them how to hold up their habit so they wouldn’t be carrying all that weight.