His Lost Mate (A Steamy Paranormal Romance Novel) (30 page)

Charging out of the tent, Deven ran around to the back where the hole was cut. “If she left the tent from here, she probably went south, away from the camp. I have to go find her.”

“Wait. When guerrillas are secure, the military can start search.”

“What if the two guerrillas find her first? I can’t wait. I’m going now.” Deven turned and ran into the forest. Miguel shouted after him, but Deven kept running.

* * *

Lauren had no idea where she was going, but she wanted to get as far away as possible. The violent storm masked her noisy escape as she crashed through vegetation and tripped over stones and tree roots. She tried to run in a straight line. Her father had taught her what to do if she was lost in the woods. She focused on the outline of a tree trunk ahead of her, ran to it, then picked another tree farther ahead in the same direction and then ran toward it.

The last thing she wanted to do was to circle around and end up back at the guerrilla camp. Her father had said that people lost in the woods unconsciously drifted toward one side and ended up walking in circles. But this wasn’t New Jersey and she had no idea where she was.

She ran, only slowing when she thought her lungs would burst and the stitch in her side made her double over. She checked over her shoulder, and thankfully didn’t see any flashlights or shadows following. The towering trees seemed sentient as if they were watching her. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled.

Finally, the rain had slowed and the thunder drifted into the distance. Lauren was soaked. Large drops of water rolled off branches onto her head and trickled in her eyes, blurring her vision. She needed to keep moving and not let anything slow her down. The fear that someone was following her pushed her to continue running even when her muscles cramped and her lungs and throat burned.

The storm clouds blocked out any illumination from the stars and moon. Although the darkness in the jungle was ominous, Lauren was more afraid that any light might give her position away.

A gunshot pierced the night, echoing through the jungle.

Lauren cried out, her hand flew to her mouth. She listened for voices or someone charging through the forest. Then she heard several more shots in the distance, some automatic weapon gunfire. She turned and fled again away from the violent chaos that sounded like a small war. Were they after her? They must know she’d escaped. Should she run or should she hide? Adrenaline pumped in her body and throbbed in her ears. Distant shouts and voices mixed in with the gunshots. The rainstorm was over and wouldn’t hide the sound of her trek through the jungle.

As she searched out her next landmark tree, she saw a hazy gray glow and the shadow of a man. A scream caught in her throat, but then she recognized Muan. He stood by a huge tree with giant tress roots that looked like the wings of a plane. He waved, urgently signaling her to approach. Without hesitating and with the echo of gunshots pushing her on, she ran to Muan. When she reached him, he pointed to the base of the tree. “Here. You must hide here, or they will find you,” he ordered. “Quickly, Cimi.”

Lauren moved aside several giant ferns. Hidden behind the vegetation and at the base of the tree, was a small cave-like hole created by water washing out the earth around the roots.

“In there? Are you crazy? There’s got to be snakes or tarantulas living in that hole.”

From the direction of gunfire, Lauren heard the sound of trampling footsteps. Someone was running and he was getting closer.

“Cimi, please. You’ll be safe here.”

Muan disappeared. She swore under her breath. Desperation fueling her courage, she crawled into the hole and managed to crouch on her hands and knees without bumping her head. The ground inside the hole was dry and the air smelled like fresh cedar and earth. The footsteps trotted closer, and she heard the voices of two men. She couldn’t tell if there were more. The guerrillas were searching for her.

She froze and held her breath until they passed. With all the gunfire and shouting, she wondered if the military had raided the guerrilla camp.

The footsteps faded into the jungle, replaced by the hum and peeps and squawks of the nighttime insects, frogs and animals. A breeze rustled through the ferns outside her tiny cave and the trees swayed and creaked. The chill of the night air and her wet clothes made her shiver. She decided to stay in the hole until daylight.

The hideout was completely dark except for the dim light at the opening. She began to wonder if anything was crawling around in the hole, especially tarantulas. She quickly put it out of her mind. There was nothing she could do about it.

Wiggling out of her backpack, she laid it on the ground and blindly searched the contents—her trowel, half a bottle of water, tissues, wet wipes and a pen and small notebook. The Nequam took her camera, flashlight, insect repellant and the jade owl. A lot of good the owl did protecting her. Well, she was alive…for now.

What would she do in the morning? She had no idea what direction led back to the field camp or how far away it was.

Deven was probably sitting in the CUB having a cup of coffee waiting for word from the military. She hoped he was. He had a gun, but she didn’t think the military would allow a civilian to accompany them on a raid of a guerrilla camp. Besides, Deven wouldn’t go against the local authorities for the sake of his project at El Zotz. She grimaced.

Remembering his disappointed look when he found that she had dug up the jade owl made her stomach churn. She felt she had no choice, but he was right. She should have waited until he got the permit.

She wanted to tell him how sorry she was. And tell him she loved him. She’d destroyed any chance for a future with him, when she’d unearthed the owl.

Whether or not she failed the semester, she would find some way to graduate. She wouldn’t quit. It might take a while to repair her reputation, but she was going to be an archaeologist—if she lived through this.

Lauren hugged her legs to her chest and rested her head on her knees. Memories of the passion she and Deven shared flashed in her mind. She ached for him. She wanted to see him smile again, to hold him in her arms and make love to him. Images and fantasies drifted in her mind of them working together as a married couple. Traveling around the world, uncovering mysteries, a lifetime of exploring the world and exploring each other. That would never happen now. She hugged her legs tighter as tears streamed down her cheeks. Fearing someone would hear her, she held a hand over her mouth to muffle her crying. Her body shook with silent sobs.

Exhaustion finally crept through her body, and she dropped off to sleep. She dreamed of running through a swamp and trying to find Deven with devils chasing her.

Hours later, as dawn crept into the jungle, dim light filtered through the ferns and illuminated the hole beneath the tree. The jungle sounds changed to birds twittering and squawking and howler monkeys screeching. Lauren opened her eyes. Scanning her small abode, she saw one small tarantula at the far end of the hole. Yuck. “Thanks for not crawling on me last night,” she whispered.

Wait until she told Justin and Kyle she spent a night in a hole with a tarantula. They’d never believe her. She still hated them, and she wasn’t spending another minute under this tree like some gnome. Crawling on her hands and knees and dragging her backpack, she climbed out into the dawn light.

Cautiously, she glanced around. She didn’t see or hear anyone. Instinct told her the direction of the guerrilla camp and she decided to head the opposite way. The lack of human sounds was as spooky as the sounds of gunfire.

Morning fog rolled into the jungle, decreasing her visibility to several yards. She tried to listen for gurgling water from a stream. If she found one, she could follow it and maybe it would lead her to the waterfall near the field camp. But there were no sounds of trickling water.

Lost, she was completely lost.

She continued trying to walk in a straight line. The dense fog slowed her pace. The sky appeared lighter to her left, so she must be heading south. Was south the right direction?

Several yards ahead of her, the trees thinned. As Lauren approached, she saw a small clearing, then she saw the mound. It looked like the overgrown mound at the northwest site near El Zotz, but was different. To one side of the mound, there were three stelae, each with a round altar in front of them. She wondered if this site was even on the map.

She walked around the mound and on the other side she saw that part of the mound was excavated. There was no formal structure to the excavation, no gridlines, like someone had taken shovels and pickaxes. Some of the stones of the pyramid were exposed and as she walked closer, she noticed the large hole in the pyramid. Someone had broken into the temple. She gasped and a chill ran through her. Oh God, someone was robbing this site.

A commotion in the woods startled her. Spinning around, she expected to see a large animal, but spied two men. They stepped into the clearing, holding rifles at their sides. She started to run, then abruptly froze when they raised their weapons and ordered her to stop. She recognized the man with the beard as the one who first captured her. He strode over to her, grabbed her arm. She screamed. He ordered her to be quiet, then dragged her away from the ransacked ruins and into the jungle.

Deven heard Lauren scream. Ignoring sharp branches that sliced his arms and legs, he tore around trees and crashed through thick brush. The guerrillas, the two escaped men, must have found her. If he went back to the guerrilla camp to get help, the men might kill her. He doubted they would try to ransom her again. Thoughts of what they would do to her before they killed her turned his blood to ice.

He heard another scream.
No!
A vicious anger boiled inside him. Then her cries abruptly stopped.

He swore.
I can’t lose her
. Running in the direction of the last scream, he prayed they wouldn’t change direction. Fear compounded his panic and anger, but he had to stay focused if he was going to save her.

Then a movement caught his attention. Deven raised his gun. Several yards ahead, he saw a man dressed like the intruder he saw the other night with the ancient Mayan headdress.

The man frantically waved to Deven to follow him. “This way,” the man shouted. “Hurry. You must save her before the sacrifice.”

Who was this guy?

Deven didn’t argue. Although the man was dressed strangely, he must be a Lacandon Indian. They know the jungle. Deven followed the man, who ran several yards ahead.

“Where is she? Take me to her,” Deven demanded.

“There. She is there.” The man pointed to a clearing. “Don’t let them sacrifice Cimi again. I have to go to her.”

The man vanished.

Deven blinked, stunned for a moment as icy chills raced up his spine. He didn’t waste time negotiating with his common sense. He rushed in the direction the man had indicated.

* * *

Lauren stopped screaming once the men threatened to shoot her. They argued in Spanish, assuming she couldn’t understand.

“Let me shoot her now. She’ll slow us down,” one man said while he squeezed Lauren’s arm so tightly his hand felt like a tourniquet.

“Don’t be stupid. They’ll hear the shots and find us,” the bearded man replied.

The other man pulled out a hunting knife. “Then I’ll use this.”

Lauren struggled against him. The sight of the knife terrified her.

“No. We’re too close to the ruins,” the bearded man said. “If they find her body and discover our excavation, we’ll be charged with murder
and
stealing artifacts.”

The other man spat then slipped the blade back into its belt sheath.

“The cenote isn’t far from here. They’ll never find her body at the bottom.” The bearded man’s words chilled her to the bone.

Lauren tried to keep her expression blank so they wouldn’t know she understood them. She needed to keep herself from panicking and look for any opportunity to run.

“There it is.” The bearded man pointed to a cluster of palmettos. They dragged her in that direction.

Lauren felt the blood drain from her face. They were going to kill her now.

Her mind raced trying to figure an escape route. A stab of fear gripped her chest when she saw the cenote—a black hole about eight feet in diameter within a circle of palmettos. She wasn’t going to die like this.

“No.” She jerked her arm, but the man pushed her and she fell to her knees. Next to her hand was a large stone. Her fingers wrapped around it without the men noticing. As she slowly stood up, she flung her hand around and smacked the bearded man in the face with the stone. He dropped to the ground.

The other man hit her hard, knocking her off her feet. The rock flung out of her hand and out of reach.

The man tried to revive the bearded man, he remained motionless. Then he grabbed her by the arm and dragged her to her feet, heading to the edge of the cenote. She turned and faced the man, shocked by his cruel smile. He was enjoying this.

She took a deep breath as her body began to shake— not from fear. Anger flared inside her with thoughts of violence she didn’t think she possessed. She would not die like this. She punched him with the power of a sledgehammer. He shook it off.

“Bitch,” he groaned through gritted teeth.

“No.” She struggled, kicked and clawed him, but he maneuvered behind her, avoiding her kicks and attacks as he continued to half carry, half drag her closer to the bottomless hole. He wrapped his arm around her neck and slung his rifle over his other shoulder.

Her screams sounded distant as his grip around her throat made it difficult to breathe. Silvery dots swirled in her vision. She couldn’t pass out now. Turning her head, she bit the man’s arm. He yelled and punched her cheek, but didn’t release her.

At first she thought she was seeing things when she saw a shadow approach from the other side of the guerrilla. Then her eyes focused and she heard a man’s voice shout, “Cimi!”

Muan.

The guerrilla spun around and let out a startled cry at the sight of a man with an elaborate headdress holding a spear and shield. Stunned, the guerrilla released her neck and reached for his rifle.