Free Fatal Pursuit (The Aegis Series) by Elisabeth Naughton

might reach the small town in three, four hours tops. But he didn’t want to push her too hard. She was a city girl. And more importantly, he wasn’t sure what was out there in the dark of the jungle.
    He took in the supple line of her jaw, the bead of sweat that slid down her temple. Her hair was pulled back into a messy tail. Damp blonde tendrils hung around her face and down the back of her neck. The black tank she wore stuck to her curves, leaving nothing to the imagination, and her gray cargo pants were muddy up to her calves. But she didn’t look tired or scared or overwhelmed. And she hadn’t once complained as he’d led through foliage so thick she could barely move, across creeks that had soaked her boots to the point where they probably wouldn’t dry in this climate, and up and down hills that had fatigued even his muscles. A fact that not only surprised him, it impressed the hell out of him.
    Not that he was about to tell her that. The last thing he needed was her saying, See? Told ya I could hold my own on an op.
    Frowning, he found his knife. After clipping it to his belt, he unhooked the machete he’d picked up in town before they’d left, just in case, and muttered, “Too bad this isn’t an op.”
    “What?” She turned to look down at him. “Did you say something?”
    He shoved his pack closer to the base of the tree between two wide roots. “I said we’re not going anywhere. It’ll be dark soon.”
    “I have a headlamp. Something tells me you do too in that magic pack of yours.”
    She was right. He did have one. But he wasn’t about to use it. “There are all kinds of things in the jungle you do not want to meet in the dark. Trust me.” He pushed to his feet. “Stay here while I cut some palms so we can build a roof over these roots for shelter.”
    He moved past her into the foliage. At his back, she mumbled, “I’m not an invalid, you know.”
    “Then do something productive while I’m gone.” He glanced back at her. “Like find some berries for dinner. Just watch out for poisonous dart frogs, vampire bats, and anacondas.”
    “Yeah, thanks.” She shot him a look that was cuter than it was frustrated. “I’ll do just that.”
    He chuckled as he walked off, thankful the animosity was gone from her voice. He knew she was still miffed that he’d shown up and pushed his way into this little excursion, but he wasn’t about to leave her safety in the hands of someone else. Especially not where she was headed.
    It took longer than he thought to find the right kind of palm fronds. He had to make do with a variety that fanned out from a central branch. There were gaps between the spindly fronds that might let water in if it rained in the night, so he cut extra. By the time he had enough for the shelter, he was drenched in sweat, hot and sticky, cut and bleeding from the razor-sharp fronds and prickly vines around him, and irritated because it was growing dark quicker than he’d calculated.
    He trudged his way back through the jungle. Stopped when he was sure he should have already reached their camp, then pulled out his compass and checked his coordinates.
    Damn jungle. Everything looked the same in the dwindling light. Backtracking, he made his way to the area where he’d cut the vines, checked his compass again, and headed in the other direction. Twenty minutes later, he slowed when he spotted a warm orange glow.
    His adrenaline spiked, and his heart beat hard against his ribs. He squinted to see through the trees.
    A fire. Someone had built a fire near their makeshift camp. A quick shot of fear raced through his veins. He reached for the Glock at his thigh. If those guerrillas had caught up with them . . . If they’d done something to Marley . . . A thousand scenarios raced through his mind, every one ending in something horrid.
    A figure moved in front of the fire, circled around the other side, and knelt down. A curvy figure. One with blond hair pulled back in a tail. One