*He stood on the tarmac, ragged backpack hitched high on his shoulder. Men ran around him, heading to remove the pallets from the cargo plane. He'd hitched a ride, Psiforce had listed him as a scientist, so he'd passed inspection to be allowed on the charity drops. Who the fuck would look at him and believe that shit? They likely didn't give a goddamn, civil war tended to shift priorities. They ain't too interested in people getting in, but hot damn, getting out was a fucking bitch. Thankfully, four feet traveled better than two. Depending on where he was at, he could cross undetected into Ecuador, Peru, Venezuela, or Panama and get his sorry ass back stateside. He'd try for Brazil, but there were too many damn memories there that didn't need prodding.*
*Pulling a pair of shades from the side pocket, he glanced around, heading in the direction of the small town he'd found when he'd been here a few weeks ago. Place was dangerous as fuck, you so much as look out of place, you'd likely be captured and ransomed off. As an undercover agent, there'd be no help coming for him. He was strangely okay with that. He much preferred relying on himself, regardless. Couldn't likely drag Kaleva's ass in with him now, baby sis had claws where her mate was concerned.*
*A vision of Mara slipped through his mind then. The one that could have been his if he hadn't fucked everything up. He couldn't say he didn't understand Illy's reaction, though he'd never mated. Hadn't seen a reason to get that close again. Hearing someone shouting his name, he turned, lips curving upward at the small, rounded woman approaching him. She'd been the owner of the cama he'd slept in before. Here in Columbia, there was no longer a safe option for a motel. That simply advertised you as a tourist, easy money. Your only option was to befriend someone that had an extra bed for the night.*
Estrella, mi abuela, como estas? *She was a motherly, squat woman with a crown of gray hair that she kept tight in a long braid that fell over her shoulder. She'd demanded he call her abuela after his contact had referred him to her. Since he appeared exotic enough to pass for a Brazilian expat, calling her "grandmother" was a damn good way to protect himself, and her. One simply didn't open their home to travelers in Columbia. She risked certain death, and he was going to make damn sure that wouldn't be the cost for protecting his hide.*
*Relieving her of the heavy bags of flour and corn that she fought for once a week at the only market they had left, he hefted them over his shoulder, yet again amazed that such a small woman could carry them herself.* You need a keeper, abuela. Someone to carry these when I'm gone. *She shrugged, as she always did, her smile beaming. He hadn't felt this kind of instant welcome in a long time.* Well, come on, woman. I already know you ain't letting me get back out on the street without forcing food on me.
*Hearing gunfire in the distance, his lips firmed.* Go. *She took off, him right behind her, keeping his body turned so hers was shielded. If shots were coming, they'd hit him. Clearing the small stone steps in a single leap, he slid past her at the door as she closed it, barricading it behind him. He'd gotten used to this shit too.*
*Moving at a quick pace, he hurried through the small row house, securing the windows with the large wooden panels she kept nearby. If the foot soldiers were out in force tonight, he'd stay here and guard the house. Anyone came in that wasn't invited? They'd meet teeth and claws, and learn to pray to a God that wouldn't hear their screams. Tomorrow, he'd slip out back near the river, shift, and continue his mission.*
*A vision of Mara slipped through his mind then. The one that could have been his if he hadn't fucked everything up. He couldn't say he didn't understand Illy's reaction, though he'd never mated. Hadn't seen a reason to get that close again. Hearing someone shouting his name, he turned, lips curving upward at the small, rounded woman approaching him. She'd been the owner of the cama he'd slept in before. Here in Columbia, there was no longer a safe option for a motel. That simply advertised you as a tourist, easy money. Your only option was to befriend someone that had an extra bed for the night.*
Estrella, mi abuela, como estas? *She was a motherly, squat woman with a crown of gray hair that she kept tight in a long braid that fell over her shoulder. She'd demanded he call her abuela after his contact had referred him to her. Since he appeared exotic enough to pass for a Brazilian expat, calling her "grandmother" was a damn good way to protect himself, and her. One simply didn't open their home to travelers in Columbia. She risked certain death, and he was going to make damn sure that wouldn't be the cost for protecting his hide.*
*Relieving her of the heavy bags of flour and corn that she fought for once a week at the only market they had left, he hefted them over his shoulder, yet again amazed that such a small woman could carry them herself.* You need a keeper, abuela. Someone to carry these when I'm gone. *She shrugged, as she always did, her smile beaming. He hadn't felt this kind of instant welcome in a long time.* Well, come on, woman. I already know you ain't letting me get back out on the street without forcing food on me.
*Hearing gunfire in the distance, his lips firmed.* Go. *She took off, him right behind her, keeping his body turned so hers was shielded. If shots were coming, they'd hit him. Clearing the small stone steps in a single leap, he slid past her at the door as she closed it, barricading it behind him. He'd gotten used to this shit too.*
*Moving at a quick pace, he hurried through the small row house, securing the windows with the large wooden panels she kept nearby. If the foot soldiers were out in force tonight, he'd stay here and guard the house. Anyone came in that wasn't invited? They'd meet teeth and claws, and learn to pray to a God that wouldn't hear their screams. Tomorrow, he'd slip out back near the river, shift, and continue his mission.*