Massive Attack (A Guy Niava Thriller Book 1) by Dana Arama (diy ebook reader TXT) 📕

party using our pursuit to harm their competitors? The conversation left us with more questions than answers. We were consoled by two things: that the burned fields aren’t ahead of us, which meant we were ahead of our pursuers, and that we had a good few hours to sleep.

I tied Laura to me and climbed up the tree with her. She then laid down on top of me with her cheek on my chest and her hands holding onto my neck. I tied both of us to the branch and thought to myself that the next two hours are going to be an extraordinary experience.

Sleeping on a tree is not an easy challenge and it is harder when the humidity, the height, and the cold sweat on the body makes one shiver. Zorro was the first to say, “I can’t stop shivering.”

“Me too,” whispered Laura. I could feel her tremors through my body. She tried to press as close to me as she could, to warm herself up with my body heat. The curves of her body fit so well with mine. I wondered if she was cuddling up to me more than strictly necessary. It was possible, but the cold was good enough justification.

“I think you girls need energy candy. We haven’t had enough to eat today. Zorro, do you have any candies left?” I asked

“Yes,” she answered. I could hear her rummaging through her bag.

Carefully I put my hand underneath my head and reached into my bag. I too felt around until I found the fabric sack and took out a piece of candy. With the same care, and avoiding sudden movements, I slid my hand gently to Laura’s mouth and put the candy in her mouth. The last thing I needed now was the arousal I felt stirring within. The rifle was lying next to me, to remind me what we were doing here. Tomorrow would be another tiring day and we all needed a proper rest.

What didn’t help was Zorro’s hand, reaching out from the nearby branch. She was also shaking and searching for every possible source of warmth.

“I should be lying next to you now,” she said

I was trying to keep things light despite the unhappy state of things, and answered, “Girls, I have enough warmth for the both of you. What you both need is to rest comfortably after a long hot shower…”

“Oooh… I would kill for a hot shower now,” Laura whispered. I could hear her through the earpiece, but I could also feel the tickle of her breath against my neck as she spoke.

“Or a soft duvet,” Zorro murmured.

I took my arm and drew Laura closer to me. Slowly, I put my hand on her back. She shivered, snuggled up to me, careful not to move her injured ankle. I said, “These are the conditions we have, and we shall endure. Remember that there is a very scared boy in the hands of a disturbed mafioso. Come now. Let’s get some sleep and replenish our strength.”

The women didn’t answer. In short order, we were all fast asleep. When we awoke it was because underneath us, a dry twig snapped.

Guy Niava,

A tree in the middle of the Chiapas jungle

November 14, 2015, 4:30 a.m.

The girls woke almost at the same second I did. We tried very hard not to move. The rush of adrenaline warmed us. I slowly moved my head until my right eye caught a gap between the leaves. I could make out the silhouette of a person. I was thankful that it was a person and not some ferocious animal. The silhouette stood there, about fifty meters from us, on the pathway. It looked like a man. I wanted him to move so I could see if he was holding a weapon. That would be enough motivation to kill him, but he just stood still. It was frustrating. The humidity around me was drying up and I knew that the sun was about to rise. If he remained standing there, not only would it waste precious travelling time, but our footsteps and our preparations for the night would be recognized. I didn’t want to shoot someone whose only crime was standing in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Soon we would have no option, because even if he was merely a citizen, he might still inform someone of our whereabouts. In the growing, pale light, I tried to determine if we could climb across the tops of the trees and disappear from here, but the light was too dim to plan such a risky escape.

And then it arrived. The familiar smell of cigarette smoke. Along with the smoke I could hear the voices of two men. Now there were three. The one standing, the smoker, and someone in a light-colored cowboy hat. I wondered if it was the same smoker from yesterday or they’d brought along another friend, and then my question was answered. They spoke in Spanish, and I picked up the rough meaning of their words.

“We have been searching for them for over twenty-four hours. I think they were killed while landing. Either we managed to hit them, or they fell off the cliff.” That was the smoker. “We saw the skid marks.”

“So what?” asked the one in the cowboy hat. He looked almost ridiculous, like an American cattle rancher.

The first one just stood still. Then, he said suddenly, “They’re here.” He turned around and looked up into the trees. “I can smell them!”

“Your nose smelled them before, and they weren’t there. I need a hit.” The smoker was showing signs of unrest. He started scratching at his skin and fidgeting around.

“Maybe if you wouldn’t smoke next to me, I would find it easier to smell them.”

The smoker ignored him and repeated, “Joaquin, I need a hit.”

“Díme, Manuel, are you crazy?”

“I need a hit,” he repeated once more, with conviction.

I was more convinced now than ever that I would need to shoot them.

“If we go back without