Page 33 of Duty Devoted
“Since our van is out there with the cartel, we’ll have to go on foot,” I managed to say, though my voice sounded distant to my own ears.
Logan was already scanning the tree line with that hypervigilant awareness I’d noticed before. “The good news is they probably think everyone got out on that helicopter. If we’re lucky, they don’t know we’re still here.”
The sound of engines rumbling in the distance made us both freeze. Through the trees, I caught glimpses of black SUVs moving slowly along the main road—patrol patterns, searching.
“Down,” Logan whispered, pulling me behind a grouping of plants. “They’re still patrolling. Making sure the area’s secure.”
We crouched there in uncomfortable silence as the first vehicle passed. I could hear men’s voices through the open windows, speaking in rapid Spanish, but it sounded more like routine patrol chatter than urgent searching.
Logan’s hand found mine, squeezing a warning to stay silent. The vehicle moved past our hiding spot and continued down the road without stopping.
“How long will it take to reach Puerto Esperanza?” I asked when the engine sounds faded.
“Under normal circumstances? Two to three days through terrain like this.” Logan kept his voice low, his eyes never stopping their sweep of our surroundings. “But with cartel patrols and us trying to avoid populated areas…could be four or five days.”
Four or five days. The number hit me like a sledgehammer. Four or five days of hiding in the jungle. Four or five days until we might—might—reach safety.
I felt something crack inside my chest. The careful control I’d been maintaining since Carlos’s death was starting to fracture.
“I can’t—” I started, then stopped myself. I could. I had to.
Logan’s expression softened as he studied my face. “You’re in shock. That’s normal after what you’ve witnessed today.”
“I’m fine.” The lie came out automatically, but even I didn’t believe it. My hands were shaking again, and I couldn’t seem to make them stop.
“No, you’re not. And that’s okay.” He checked his watch, then peered through the foliage toward the road. “We need suppliesbefore we attempt this trek. Food, water containers, something to carry everything in.”
I thought about the village, about the people I’d been treating for six months. “There are a few houses that have been abandoned since families moved away. And there’s a small store?—”
“No stores. No contact with anyone.” Logan’s voice was firm. “The moment someone spots us, word gets back to Silva. We stick to abandoned places only.”
“But…”
He shook his head. “I know you want to think these people are your friends. And hell, Lauren, maybe they are. But in my experience, when push comes to shove, survival trumps casual friendship almost every time. We can’t put them in a position where they have to lie for us. We have to stay hidden and get what we need.”
“You mean steal.” The word felt heavy in my mouth, adding to the weight of everything else pressing down on me.
“Right now, I mean survive. Our survival.” His tone brooked no argument. “We cannot let the Silva cartel know we weren’t on that helicopter. Right now, they think the problem is solved. If they find out we’re still here…”
Another engine rumbled past, and Logan pressed deeper into the foliage. I followed, thorns catching at my scrubs. The efficient way he moved told me this wasn’t his first time hiding from people who wanted him dead.
“You’ve done this before,” I said. “Been stuck behind enemy lines?”
“Not in this exact situation, but yes.”
I nodded absently, eyes locked on his, considering everything he’d said.
“Everywhere is behind enemy lines if you don’t trust anyone.” His voice was carefully neutral. “It’s all about patienceand avoiding contact. Let the enemy waste resources looking for you while you move slowly and carefully toward your objective.”
“What was your objective then?”
Logan was quiet for a moment. “Usually extraction or intelligence gathering. Sometimes target elimination.”
The casual way he said “target elimination” sent another chill through me. This man walking beside me had killed people—professionally, deliberately. Part of me understood it was necessary in his world, but another part couldn’t reconcile the way he’d escorted and guarded me through Lucia’s delivery with the cold reality of what he was capable of.
“Does it bother you?” I asked. “The killing?”
“It bothers me when it’s not necessary.” Logan glanced at me, and I caught something vulnerable in his expression before he looked away. “But sometimes it’s the only way to protect innocent people. Sometimes it’s the only choice that matters.”
