Wrath of Poseidon (Fargo Adventures 12)
“Maybe it’s them,” Remi whispered.
From the sound of it, far more than two people were coming their way. The olive trees on this side of the island definitely weren’t large enough to hide behind. He glanced up at the massive outcropping jutting up from the hillside next to Remi, motioning for her to follow him. They climbed to the top of the jagged rock, about ten feet above the path, then dropped to their bellies, hiding behind a few fragrant patches of sage that grew from the cracks.
Sam drew the little Smith & Wesson, holding it in front of him. A moment later, five men came down the trail below them, two leading pack mules loaded with full sacks of olives.
When they disappeared from view, Remi leaned in close to him, whispering, “What are we waiting for?”
“Making sure no one else is following.”
He set his gun on the dirt in front of him, then took out his binoculars, focusing on the beaten path. Their higher position made it easier to see exactly where Dimitris and Zoe had left the trail. Their tracks reemerged about thirty yards beyond that point—something they wouldn’t have seen from the ground. “Those men are going in the same direction we need to go.”
“We’re going to wait longer?”
“Just a bit.” A few minutes later, a steady stream of men leading pack mules followed the first group.
The sun beat down on their backs, and Remi shifted, wiping the dust and perspiration from her brow. “Not quite what I pictured when I booked this trip.”
“I could think of worse ways to spend the afternoon.”
“Really? Name one.”
“How about being cooped up in a cubicle?”
“At least the cubicle I work in has air-conditioning. I count that as a plus right now.”
“So, camping is out?”
“Unless you’re pitching a tent with hot and cold running water, carpeting, and electricity, I’m definitely out. Honestly, what’s the appeal of sleeping in a bag with zippers on the hard ground?”
“You realize all sleeping bags have zippers?”
“That’s not the point.”
“What is the point?”
“Trying to figure out why anyone finds camping appealing.”
“It’s the totality of the experience, and the company. Especially the company.” He glanced over at her. “Being in the outdoors, listening to the rustle of the breeze through the trees, the birds singing, the blue sky above. The beautiful girl beside me . . .” Unable to resist, he leaned forward and kissed her.
When she didn’t object, he moved in for a second kiss. She suddenly stiffened, pulling back. “Sam . . .”
“Not quite the reaction I expected.”
“Not you. That.”
Her gaze was on a rather long scorpion crawling out from beneath a rock very close to her right arm. He used the binoculars to flick the insect down the hill. “Nothing to it. At least the great outdoors has a way of letting you know what’s dangerous and what isn’t.”
“Maybe you should be carrying a flamethrower instead of a gun.”
“Some of the worst scorpions in the world look like ordinary human beings.”
She eyed the rock as though expecting another scorpion to come crawling out. “I don’t suppose it’s safe to move?”
“I think we’re good,” he said. Rising, he picked up and holstered his gun, then he offered his hand and helped Remi to her feet. They were almost to the bottom when he heard something in the brush on the other side of the trail to their left. He glanced in that direction, then held out his arm, stopping Remi in her tracks. “Remember when I said there were worse things to worry about than snakes?” He nodded down the trail. “That would be one of them.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
A huge brown boar snuffed through the dried brush. Alongside her, four striped piglets pushed at the dirt with their little snouts. Sam took Remi by the hand and slowly moved her away from the trail.