Written in the Stars: Wolffe Peak Book 3 Page 9

  Her attention drifted back to the four dead men. “It’s my fault.”

  “What is?”

  “This.” She gestured to the scene presented before them. “They came here to rescue me. The jaguars attacked because of me. They would be alive if it weren’t for me.”

  Harley’s soft palm cupped her cheek. She leaned into it, so desperate for comfort right now. The feel of his hand against her face did things it shouldn’t, things she’d sworn to herself she would never feel again. But she couldn’t turn away from him. Not now.

  “I want you to listen to me. These men were professionals.” He held up his other hand when she moved to argue. “That doesn’t excuse their deaths, but it does tell you that if they weren’t here right now, they’d be somewhere else. Somewhere equally dangerous. And maybe that mission would have been their last. There’s no guarantee in life except that we’ll die.”

  Jasmine’s mouth fell open. “How can you be so cavalier about this?”

  “Not cavalier. Realistic. Each and every one of them knew what they were getting themselves into and knew the risk before taking on the job. I’m not saying what happened is okay. I’m simply telling you none of this was your fault.”

  She shook her head, then rested it against a crumbled building. Easy for him to say. He wasn’t the one carrying the guilt. He’d probably done all he could to save their lives. But the truth of the matter was they never would have been here if not for her. And nothing Harley said would change that.

  “Why don’t you sit here and relax for a bit while we take care of the bodies?”

  Bodies. Tears sprang to her eyes. They weren’t even people anymore. Just empty carcasses. She knew she shouldn’t be thinking like this. But it was hard not to wallow in guilt when there were four bodies staring back at you.

  * * *

  Digging graves was backbreaking work, but someone had to do it. Carlisle and Wells were knee-deep in the fourth trench next to him, helping him settle Anderson’s body. Once they had him properly positioned, the three of them climbed out and began covering the man with dirt. Thankfully, after this, the job was complete. But it’d been one hell of a task.

  No one had spoken a word the entire time. At first, Harley had expected Wells to argue that this was too dangerous. What if the lone jaguar returned with reinforcements? What about making it to the extraction point in time? They were valid concerns, after all.

  But these were Wells’s men. Burying them was the least they could do for them now. And Harley’s respect for Wells had jumped a notch. A man who abandoned his dead comrades was no man.

  Once buried, Harley straightened and winced as he worked out a kink in his back. “Does anyone want to say a few words?”

  Wells and Carlisle both shook their heads. Carlisle’s eyes shone with sorrow, but Wells wore his pain well, locked down deep like most men of his profession. You didn’t make it as a merc without losing friends along the way. Not that it made losing them any easier.

  Staring down at the disturbed earth, Harley considered their options. It was best to start moving again. That last jaguar shifter had taken off hours ago and no reinforcements had made an appearance. Doubtful they’d killed the entire pack, but perhaps they’d done enough damage to make the jaguars think twice before attacking again.

  If they left now, there was a chance the jaguars would lose track of them. Especially with the impending rainfall hovering in the air. The scent had been tickling Harley’s nose for the past hour. They could take advantage of that, use the weather to help wash away their tracks.

  But Jasmine, Carlisle, Wells… they were all exhausted. They needed a break before taking off, and Jasmine needed to eat. He could hear the rumbling of her stomach even from here. Two shifts in less than twenty-four hours would wear on anyone. Setting up another camp wasn’t ideal, though. It could very well give the jaguars a chance to locate them once more.

  Pondering his choices, Harley strode up to the downtrodden group. “Thirty minutes. Get some rest, some food, whatever it is you need to do. But we’re gone in thirty minutes.”

  No one complained.

  Wells and Carlisle both hunkered down on their packs and closed their eyes, their exhaustion dragging them into a restless sleep. Jasmine, on the other hand, started rifling through Harley’s bag. When she pulled out another bag of jerky, he pulled up a seat next to her and held out his hand.

  Without a word, she slapped a big piece of dried meat in his palm, then sat back and chewed her own. Harley had no idea what to say. He wanted to comfort her but knew his words would mean very little right now. Perhaps discussing something completely random would help. Take her mind off the situation.

  He swallowed his mouthful of jerky, then casually asked a question he’d been dying to know the answer to. “So, what have you been up to over the past few years?”

  Jasmine’s lashes briefly fluttered, as though this question bothered her. But rather than let it out, she simply shrugged. “A little of this. A little of that. Traveling mostly.”

  Which he’d already known. Her father’s deal must have been a really good one.

  “What’s in Denver?”

  Her gaze went black. “What do you mean?”

  “These guys snatched you in Denver, right?”

  “Oh. Denver’s just—” She shrugged again. “—school.”

  “School? Really?”

  A third shrug. Yeah, something was certainly bothering her. “Do we really need to talk about this right now?”

  “Is there something else worth talking about?”

  She exhaled and turned away from him. After a moment’s hesitation, she swung back around. “Why do you even care? What’s with the questions? The curiosity? The interest in my life?”

  Whoa. All right. Apparently, he’d hit a nerve. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “No?” Anger blazed in her eyes. “Then why the hell did you kiss me?”

  Yikes. Okay. So they were going there already. Harley wasn’t sure what to say. He could admit the truth and tell her that for the past three years, kissing her was all he’d been able to think about. Or, he could maintain his dignity.

  The male jackass part of his brain opted for door number two. This time, he was the one who shrugged. “Seemed like the fun thing to do? You know me—I’m a flirt.”

  A frustrated growl rumbled deep in Jasmine’s throat.

  Harley sat in wonder and watched as her eyes suddenly lit up the surrounding area. Bright yellow, they glowed like the moon. Except these orbs were pissed as hell.

  “Maybe you should keep your damn lips to yourself then.”

  Harley coughed into his hand. He knew what this was. She needed to lash out at someone, anything to assuage her own pain and guilt. If she needed a fall guy, he could be that person for her. Right now, she didn’t need to hear empty promises and gentle persuasions. She needed to unleash her rage on someone before her cat ate her alive from the inside out.

  “Don’t tell me you didn’t like it,” he prodded.

  Surprise softened her countenance, but the anger returned not a second later. “Don’t think you’re that good a kisser.”

  Ooh, shots fired. He happened to know he was an exceptional kisser. Hell, she’d even told him that once. But now wasn’t the time to throw those words back in her beautiful face. That wasn’t what she needed right now.

  “You could give me another chance,” he continued, riling her kitty just a little more.

  “Over my dead—” She froze.

  He heard her small sniffle, caught the slight wobble of her chin. Tucking her into his side, he guided her head onto his shoulder and finally whispered those soft promises she needed. “Let it out, kiddo. I promise you, none of this was your fault, but I know that isn’t enough right now. So, let it out. Whatever you need.”

  Her tears gutted him.

  Truth be told, this was all his fault. That bastard Luis had told Jasmine that himself. They’d targeted her because she’d loved
a shifter. Not enough to stick around, but enough to attract the attention of a radical political group.

  So, if anyone was to blame, it was him.

  10

  Jasmine couldn’t stop thinking about that blasted kiss. The way Harley had swept her up and claimed her mouth, utterly possessive and equally demanding. And his reasoning? Seemed the fun thing to do. Ugh! Men! What the hell was wrong with the domineering sex? They thought with their dicks more than their brains, and it always ended with her walking in the rain down Heartbreak Street and You Stupid Idiot Avenue.

  And why?

  Because her damn heart hadn’t stopped dancing since his lips had touched hers. Her skin still tingled and her mouth burned. All from a single kiss. He didn’t understand the power he had over her. He winked, she melted, and when he kissed her, she damn near imploded.

  Well, that ended. Right now.

  She refused to stumble down this path any longer. He’d made his feelings quite clear when he’d taken her father’s money and ran. What kind of man kissed a woman just ‘cause?

  And great. Now she was crying—all thanks to him. On the upside, at least no one would question her. Enough had happened tonight that justified the shedding of a few tears.

  She swiped her cheeks, closed her eyes, and rested her head against the crumbled stone building behind her. She missed home. This miserable place was nothing more than a never-ending maze of twisted vines, thick undergrowth, and a whole jungle full of wild animals likely keen on eating them if they died. Not to mention the radical Humans First group and a bloody pack of hostile jaguars on their tail.

  She couldn’t wait to return home, and when she did, she’d never leave again.

  For two years, she’d traveled the world. After Harley left, Jasmine knew she couldn’t stay in Colorado for another minute. Everywhere she went, she feared running into him. And then what? The thought of making forced small talk had shattered the already broken pieces of her heart. So, when her father had offered her an all-expenses-paid trip anywhere she wanted, she’d leapt at the opportunity. Three months volunteering with the Red Cross in Africa, another three months working random jobs throughout Australia, a year touring historical sites—and vineyards—in Italy, and half a year roaming the open Canadian wilderness.

  But eventually, she began to long for home, for her family, and her life.

  So, a year ago, she made a decision. She returned home and enrolled at UC Denver, eager to embark down a new path. The lycanzoology program hadn’t been around for long. In fact, the university had only launched it four years ago. But she knew it was the right degree for her. Her hope was to combine it with a teaching degree for middle school children and up.

  Her father had loathed the idea. Not only would it attract attention to the family, but it was a difficult career path, one filled with protests and racism. Jasmine didn’t care. The more the world knew about shifters, the less frightened they would be. And she wanted to be a part of that, to help shine light on an exciting new path.

  If anything, this fiasco solidified her need to educate. Especially considering how she was now a shifter. These were her rights Humans First wanted to take away, her life Humans First wanted to destroy. There really wasn’t any going back to her old life now.

  Wow. Such a… strange realization to have in the middle of the jungle.

  This was her life now. Fighting for rights, facing oppression and tyranny. Dealing with bigotry and hatred. Apparently, it wasn’t bad enough being a woman, she had to now tackle shifter politics as well. Maybe there was a little of her father in her after all.

  “All right, everyone.” Harley’s deep voice started Jasmine out of her reverie.

  She blinked open her eyes, surprised to see the others packing camp. She’d been so lost to her thoughts, she hadn’t realized the thirty minutes had already passed.

  Sighing, she rubbed her hands down her thighs then rose to her feet, her stomach still rumbling. Harley had shared with her his jerky and a can of soup during their rest, but she needed to find some real food fast. Her inner cat was already on edge, itching to claw out someone’s eyes. Keeping the beast hangry didn’t seem to be in anyone’s best interest.

  Wells and Carlisle shouldered their packs and followed Harley into the trees. Jasmine did the same, though she maintained a little distance. Harley was comforting—too much so. She needed to be able to stand on her own two feet without his help. And she needed to bond with her shifter side. Hiding in Harley’s shadow wouldn’t help her accomplish either of those goals.

  “How far do we have left to go?” Wells asked.

  Harley stole a glance at his cracked compass, then scented the air. “A few hours until we reach San Quintín. Another four or five hours after that to reach Comitan.”

  “The rendezvous time in San Quintín is fifteen hundred hours. Will we make it?”

  “It’ll be tight,” was all Harley said.

  Jasmine didn’t like the sound of that. She needed out of this place. Desperate for anything other than trees to look at, desperate to burn these clothes, desperate for food and water. The thought of trudging through this endless maze for the entire day made her growl.

  “What about our unwelcome visitors from before? Any others following us?”

  “No.” Harley pocketed his compass. “We’re in the clear. So, keep moving and keep quiet.”

  Quiet. Right. A bit difficult while stomping through untrodden territory. Or when someone tripped over a hidden tree root. At this rate, anyone in proximity would be able to hear them.

  Minutes dragged into hours as they plowed their way forward, the heat and humidity and elevation rising along with the sun. Every step felt like she was wading through a pool. Jasmine was about to beg Harley for a break—her legs had gone numb during the last arduous incline—when finally a small village appeared.

  Jasmine’s filthy hands rose to her mouth, muffling a choked gasp. Before them stood a rickety bridge, one that looked about ready to collapse into the river below, but to Jasmine, she’d never seen anything more beautiful. A bridge meant civilization. Civilization meant beds, showers, and food.

  “How are we doing on time?” Harley asked.

  Wells shot his watch a quick glance and grimaced. “We’re good. It’s fourteen thirty. Jones and Richards should be here soon.”

  Harley started across the bridge, testing its strength with a few strong kicks. When it held, he started across. “Come on then.”

  Jasmine bit back a groan, her newfound excitement quickly fizzling. Once across the bridge, she caught up to Harley. “Who are Jones and Richards?”

  “Our driver and his partner. We have a vehicle here waiting for us that’ll take us to Comitan.”

  A car! Thank the Lord. She couldn’t have handled another couple hours of hiking. The thought made her want to cry. But a car? That, she could handle.

  “Hurry,” Harley called back to them.

  A fresh jolt of determination kicked in, inspiring a second wave of energy. Jasmine straightened her shoulders and matched Harley’s pace, eager to slide into the backseat and get some more shuteye.

  “Over there,” Harley said, pointing toward a dented minibus on the far end of the street.

  The only thing that kept Jasmine from jumping up and down and clapping her hands like a wild schoolgirl was the sight of all the people surrounding them. For such a small town, the crowd seemed rather large.

  Tourists, she realized. Wherever they were, this place attracted a great deal of tourism. She could see it in the signs lining the gravel street and the minivans packed with people.

  People who were staring at them.

  And a quick glance revealed why. The four of them were caked in dirt and mud, their clothing torn and frayed, their hair thick with sweat and grime. They looked a damn mess, as though they hadn’t bathed in a month.

  Her cheeks grew warm as she found herself fiddling with her hair. She could almost hear her father’s voice telling her to straighten up.
Appearances matter, he’d tell her. And as the daughter of a senator, it was her job to look the part. Prim and proper. Clean and wholesome. As though he was the damn president.

  What did it matter, though?

  These people didn’t know her. Her father might be a senator, but that hardly made them celebrities. Especially her.

  “Let’s go!” Harley urged them onward.

  As they crossed the street toward the vehicle, two new men came around the side, their hands hovering close to their sides where Jasmine could tell they wore hidden guns.

  “Jones and I were starting to worry,” Richards said. “Where’s the rest of the team?”

  Harley shook his head, his expression telling.

  “Shit,” Jones muttered. Emotion flickered behind his eyes, and he turned and kicked the tire. “Goddamn it!”

  “Enough,” Harley grumbled. “No need to attract any more attention than we already have. Everyone get in the damn car. We’re getting the hell out of here.”

  He opened the back door and gestured Jasmine inside. She managed a single foot past the door when—

  Boom!

  The entire world shook. The ground beneath them quaked. And before she could so much as look up, the heat from a nearby explosion slammed into them. Jasmine barely heard Harley’s curse above the roar of the fire, but she felt his arms close around her as he shoved her headfirst into the vehicle.

  Screams surrounded them. Heat bathed over them. And throughout it all, the only thing Jasmine heard was Harley’s whispered words, promising her everything would be all right.

  * * *

  The instant the world exploded, Harley shoved Jasmine into the car and threw his body over hers. He hadn’t even stopped to think. He’d simply reacted. His instincts had taken over, telling him that she was all that mattered. Even now, as fire rushed over the hood of the car, he cradled her against him, her head tucked into his chest and whispered to her that everything was fine, that he’d never let anything hurt her.