The Treasurehunters

IC: Jake Hunter

Deep in the jungle of Colombia there were ancient Incan ruins. Many were still undiscovered like this one. Grown over and hidden underneath the forest canopy for centuries. Jake had cut through some the densest most inhospital rainforest for days searching for this one. The oppressive humidity made sweat roll down his body, his shirt cling to him, and threaten dehydration.

He made deep into the heart of the old temple. He'd found and circumvented three booby traps to get to this sacrificial chamber. Golden tablet gleaming in the light of his flashlight lay atop the alter at the far end of the room. The only problem was he hadn't been the first one inside this room.

Along one wall were the skeletal remains of three dead men. Two dressed in tattered conquistador uniforms and the third in what looked like a monk's frock. They were littered with what looked like poisoned darts.

Jake knelt in the entrance to the chamber, examining the stone littered floor. It was probably triggered by a pressure switch hidden among the uneven slabs on the floor. Then he cast a light upon the pictograph covered wall then up to the ceiling. There were several tree roots that had burrowed inside the room through the cracks in the ceiling. It was maybe fifteen meters walk among loaded blowguns in the wall.

He laid his flashlight down on the ground casting its light upon the altar and used some of his parkour training to vault up to the ceiling to grab hold of the dangling tree roots there. Under his weight they gave way but he shifted from one to another traversing the fifteen meters across the room without setting foot on the booby trap riddled floor. He landed atop the alter and snatched the tablet. Stowing it in his pack. He then prepared for his trek from tree root to tree root back across the chamber.

He jumped up and began his trek back across the room. Only about half way an explosion above shook the temple and his grip on the tree root he'd been hanging on slipped. He fell face first to the stony ground below. When he did felt one sink down and a click happened. Poisoned darts flew across the room just narrowly missing his prone body.

He sighed with relief but was having other problems as the sound of gunfire came from down the corridor he went down to reach this chamber. Someone was coming and by the looks of her, he knew who it was.

"Mike," He swore as his estranged wife burst through the doorway. She ducked behind the cover as gunfire burst through the doorway after her, "What the hell-"

"Damn it woman," He growled at her response reaching under him to pull out his Colt 45 from its holster. "Do you always have to bring a shit-ton of trouble after you?"

He fired two shots but he was in a bad place stuck in the middle of a booby trap covered floor in clear view of the gunmen down the hall through the door.

"Don't come any closer," He ordered when she made to step deeper into the room.

He fired two more shots winging one.

A grenade rattled into the room.

"Shit," He shouted. Jumping up from the floor and hauling ass in a dive to the corpses on the wall guessing those pressure triggers had already been exhausted underneath them.

Darts flew around him. The grenade exploded. He landed atop the two conquistadors and one monk. His vision blurry and ears ringing. The grenade, it was a flash-bang.

"Terrific," He grumbled. Atop of this the skeleton of the monk had been clutching a big book like it was the map to fucking El Dorado or something. The corner of it was currently jabbing him in the spleen.

A woman, if you could call her that. More like a shaved grizzly bear. She was seven feet or so and muscular like female body builders with an eye patch and a sore-tooth angry expression on her face. She came in carrying a SAW machine gun under one arm and pulling out the biggest and most vicious looking bowie knife in the other.

"Fuck," He swore as she swung the SAW's muzzle towards Mike.

IC: Michaela Jones

As she careened around the corner, bullets embedding themselves on the far wall, Michaela (Mike) Jones wondered for the millionth time that day what else could go wrong in her life. This was supposed to be easy pickings or so that slug, Bennett Ellis, had said when he had sent her the information. She should have known that the lazy, son of bitch nephew of her former mentor would screw up and put her on the path of the golden tablet late. Fucking prick couldn't even sell the priceless artifacts she had already risked her life getting and now was plopping her in the middle of something she was pretty sure she wanted to avoid, or at least try to. Then again, she knew she rarely did things she was supposed to do.

As she scooted across the narrow ledge with nothing but her superior balance to keep her from tumbling into the pitch darkness beneath her, Mike tried to quell a growing sense of unease. Something was off here - well besides the two gunmen behind her, shooting at her like they were trying to kill her, not just disable her. Where's the honor among thieves that I've heard so much about now, Uncle?. However, there should have been at least one booby trap by now, and the fact that there wasn't didn't bode well for the likelihood of a prize at the end.

Almost slamming face first into the stone wall that suddenly appeared, she looked quickly around and spotted what looked to be cracks of various sizes haphazardly appearing on the wall. Less than a second later, she was scrambling on the wall, using her fingers and toes to dig into the cracks like they were normal crevices during a rocking climbing expedition. She would have preferred to do this bare foot so as to really dig in, but she was fairly sure she didn't have a lot of time.

'Story of my life,' she thought to herself as she pulled herself up and over the wall, dropping down in time to hear voices.

Brushing a clump of blonde hair that was sticking to her forehead, she ran lightly down the corridor, wishing she had taken the time to scout out the area before clubbing the one guy on the back of the head with a thick tree branch and then surprising the other with a flash of her tits and flat stomach before pulling the Ruger LCP that she normally kept in the small of her back on him. Maybe if she had, she wouldn't have been surprised when the other two came charging out of the jungle setting up this impromptu footrace.

And she had a sinking suspicion she knew who the one gunmen was. Yeah, how many seven foot tall woman are in Columbia, sporting an eyepatch and looking like they could crack bowling balls with their thighs? If that was Irina, right hand man, okay woman but you couldn't prove it by looking at her, for Lukas Zelenka, then she was seriously fucked. She had managed to stay off his radar by always going after the smaller things that the crazy ass arms dealer wouldn't be interested in, but it looked like that was about to change.

There was a sudden explosion behind her and the hallway quickly filled with a swirling cloud of dust and debris. Guess Irina doesn't like to climb... She ran on, only to double back when she missed the second turn. Fortunately she could see her end goal in sight. Unfortunately she also saw the shadows of the two gunmen as they got closer, and if she could see them....

Breaking into a mad dash for the doorway, Mike sucked in a breath as one of the bullets being fired at her grazed her left shoulder. She managed to duck behind the door, but almost jumped out of her skin when she heard someone say her name.

"What the hell-" she spat out when she saw the face of the very man she had spent the last 18 months trying to forget. She couldn't believe he had the nerve of accusing her of bringing trouble after her when they both knew that Trouble was his middle name.

Despite everything that had happened between the two of them, Mike figured that she'd be better off with him at her side, temporarily at her side, until they put Irina and the other guy out of commission. Jake fired out the door, and she quickly looked around for a better cover. The altar on the other end of the room looked promising and she started to move into the room, drawing back at Jake's sharp order. 'Crap, poison darts?!' she guessed, mentally smacking herself for not thinking.

The next thing she knew, a grenade was rolling into the room. One minute, Jake was cursing, flying through the air, and the next it felt like she had tumbled over a cliff.. again. By the time her brain stopped scrambling, Irina was looming in front of her with a knife in one hand and a machine gun in the other.

"Wow, nice M249...," she smiled irreverently, "that baby weighs what 16 pounds, and you just sling that around like it's a purse?" Slowly moving her hands up in the international 'I'm unarmed' sign language, she continued, "is it true that those babies have an effective range of 600 meters?"

IC: Jake Hunter

"Fuck," He swore as she swung the SAW's muzzle towards Mike.

The Giantess was known as Irina Ortiz. She was the attack dog of a particularly vicious arms dealer known as Lukas Zelenka. He dealt arms around the world but here in Colombia the man was more powerful than god. Even the fucking narco-terrorists out in the jungle kowtowed to him and they bowed to no one but their own wallets.

"Wow, nice M249...," she smiled irreverently, "that baby weighs what 16 pounds, and you just sling that around like it's a purse?" Slowly moving her hands up in the international 'I'm unarmed' sign language, she continued, "is it true that those babies have an effective range of 600 meters?"

Carefully Jake raised up atop the skeletons leveling his colt on Irina only to find she had swerved the SAW at him.

"Si," She said in a thick Spanish accent, "But all she needs here is a range of six meters to drill holes in ken there, comprende Barbie?"

Jake grimaced at her words, "Newsflash, psycho-bitch, we separated a long time ago-" He sneered to Mike, "-Been having a blast on my own ever since."

Two more of Zelenka's mercenaries entered carrying AK's-the weapon of choice for goons the world over. They pointed them at both him and Mike.

"Seems like a whole lot of trouble to get a tablet for Zelenka," He said raising his hands his Colt hanging limp by the trigger on his thumb. "It's only worth maybe seventy-five, eighty-five G...chump change to him."

"Drop the pistol and slowly bend down and hand over the journal."

The Journal? What the hell was she talking about? He glanced down the skeleton in monk's robes. The large book clutched tightly in his arms. Slowly he bent down and retrieved the journal and handed it to one of her goons.

"So what now," He asked her as more of her rent-a-thugs came rushing.

"Now I be your marriage counselor," Irina smiled wickedly as the other goon pulled out a roll of duct tape and a grenade.

The goons dragged him and mike face to face. His hands and hers holding the grenade between them. Then they used the duct tape on them circling it around their hands.

"Tell us what is the journal?"

"You two should have maybe a minute, minute and a half, to work out your relationship problems." She said ignoring the question. She used her oversized bowie knife's point to pull the pin from the grenade.

He looked at Mike. His last minute on earth with her..."Just shoot me now."

"This is more fun. Call me a romantic." Irina said twirling the pin of the grenade around the tip of her knife and swinging the huge machine gun casually over her massive shoulders. "Hasta la manana."

They left leaving him and Mike stuck together staring at eachother. She still had the deepest blue eyes. Jesus he had been such a dumb-ass to her. "See this is all your fault."

Arms bent up at the elbow, wearing a pacifying smile that went against the grain, but she figured couldn't hurt, Mike subtly shifted to the balls of her feet as she studied Irina, preparing her attack carefully. Double knife hand and a back hook kick should do nicely. Maybe a front snap kick-neck chop, depending on how Mike's shot took her. That's assuming he took advantage of the distraction she was trying to provide.

They had used similar methods in the past when caught off guard by 'unfriendlies'. One of them would act as a distraction, while the other put them out of commission. But that was before... marriage that is... After that it seemed that the unspoken communication they had between them have gone up in smoke. Prior to the damn rings going on their fingers, they had been able to anticipate what the other would do. Afterwards... well she did her best to forget the screaming matches. It wasn't worth the aggravation.

Knowing they didn't have a lot of time before the rest of the goons that were traveling with Irina caught up, Mike frowned when she swung the SAW in his Jake's direction. Why hadn't he just clipped the bitch when he had the chance? Surely he had a clear shot regardless of whether or not he had been lying prone to the ground. Had he been too busy eating bonbons and laying on his ass since their separation that he had gotten so rusty? For Christ's sake, I should have just gone for the gun in the first place...

Si, but all she needs here is a range of six meters to drill holes in Ken there, comprende Barbie?

Newsflash, psycho-bitch, we separated a long time ago... Been having a blast on my own ever since.

Rolling her eyes and giving him her well practiced 'whatever' roll of her shoulders, Mike chalked up the twinge in her stomach as frustration and not regret. She couldn't even remember how the hell he had managed to convince her to marry him in the first place. She could count on one hand the number of men who hadn't tried to screw her over, and Jake was certainly not one of them. What did she care what he did once she had split? He could fuck whomever else he wanted and she wouldn't give a rat's ass... She had only wanted to sever all ties with the biggest, most glorious mistake of her life.

Which was why it had been so frustrating that the law firm that she had put on retainer had been unable to track his sorry ass down with the divorce papers for six months. Good for nothing son of a bitch still hasn't signed the papers as far as she knew, and he dared to talk to her about having the time of his life?

Mike wanted to scream in frustration when two more goons entered the room, armed with AK's. Dammit, she could have taken three of them if they hadn't been so well armed, but with zero help from Jake, it didn't look promising. And of course instead of giving her some kind of clue as to what he wanted her to do, he whined about Zelenka going after bit treasure. She frowned at herself as a shiver went down her spine at the sound of the arms dealer's name. Come on, he's not that big of a deal...

Drop the pistol and slowly bend down and hand over the journal.

There was no mistaking the complete cluelessness on both of their faces, and Mike looked on as Jake pried a dusty looking book of some sort out of a skeleton's hands. If it had been Mike, she probably would have peeked inside rather than meekly handing it over like he had done, but she had always been the more curious of the two of them.

She missed whatever Jake said next as more mercenaries came running in. 'They're like a fucking matryoshka doll,' she thought with an amused smile as she compared the latest additions' height to that of Irina's.

Now I be your marriage counselor.

That statement and the wicked expression on the giant's face quickly wiped the smile off Mike's face, and she tried to resist when she was dragged to stand in front of Jake. Her eyes shot a promise of dark retribution as their hands were duct taped together with a grenade sandwiched between their palms. She unobtrusively curled her fingers, creating additional space between their hands, as Jake tried to wheedle information about the journal from Irina.

You two should have maybe a minute, minute and a half, to work out your relationship problems.

Expressionless, Mike stared at Jake when the pin was pulled from the grenade, trying to send him a mental command to shut the fuck up so that they would all leave so she could put her plan into action. Something flickered in and out of his eyes as they stared at each other, so fast she couldn't name whatever emotion it might have been.

Just shoot me now. Shut up, Jake...

This is more fun. Call me a romantic. Hasta la mañana. Yeah, puta... You'll be seeing me again...

She stared at Jake as she waited for the last person to leave. This might be a little close, but it was doable....if he cooperated, which was not guaranteed.

See this is all your fault.

Snorting in derision, she muttered, "Yeah, for thinking you wouldn't choke," before shifting their hands to the bottom of her cleavage and pushing up. Cutting him off before he could make a sarcastic comment about needing more than a minute and a half to make a real woman out of her, she snapped, "Stop wasting time and get the switchblade in my bra."

Purposely ignoring the surprised look on his face as she normally only carried her knives in her boots, Mike used their fingers to push the blade from underneath her left breast. He didn't need to know the reason why she had taken to arming herself with extra weapons nor would he likely care. 'Like you'd want him to, you dumbass,' she scolded herself. She smiled when she felt the small knife shift up in the valley of her breasts.

"Do something other then stand there, you big baby. Grab it but be careful... it's a little sensitive," she urged him as he tried to grab a hold of the knife with his fingertips.

Hissing when he accidentally opened the knife before it cleared her bra, brushing her sternum with the tip in the process, she growled, "Fucking A - What part of 'careful' did you not understand?"

Knowing they didn't have much time, she brushed it off and used the gap she had created between their hands to give him the room he needed to maneuver the blade against the tape. The blade sank through the tape like a knife through butter and, pulling free from their sticky bond, she took the last remaining seconds to gather the grenade in her hand, take a couple steps forward and hurl it out the door and down the hall with a speed that would have made her softball coach proud.

IC: Jake Hunter

They left leaving him and Mike stuck together staring at eachother. She still had the deepest blue eyes. Jesus he had been such a dumb-ass to her. "See this is all your fault."

"Yeah, for thinking you wouldn't choke," He heard her mutter.

"Choke-" He said in exasperation, "I was gonna make a move as soon as she gave us an opening."

She pulled their hands towards her. Fitting just under the swell of her left breast.

"Bermuda-" Jake remembered those breasts well. They had went to Bermuda for their honeymoon. He had spent a whole morning exploring the treasures every inch of them held. He had jokingly called it scaling the mountains

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Darling, we're going to need more than a minute and a half to relive the good times-"

"Stop wasting time and get the switchblade in my bra." She angrily cut him off.

Switchblade? He looked at her in surprise. "Since when did you stop carrying your knives in your boots?"

There was something long and flat tucked under the cup of her bra. She used both of their fingers coax it up over the inside of her breast until the end of the knife she had tried to kill him with that night their marriage had crashed and burned around him.

"Do something other then stand there, you big baby," She barked at him, "Grab it but be careful... it's a little sensitive,"

"I remember," He said extending two of his fingers to guide it up out of her cleavage, "Touch these just the right way and you'd light up like new years eve in times squa-"

His finger slipped and nudged the stud on the handle making the razor sharp blade spring out narrowly missing accidentally stabbing her in the heart-that is if his estranged wife actually had one to stab of course. Jake had learned over the course of their marriage she had ripped it out and locked it up in some safe years ago-so if he made one mistake-well even convicts in prison eventually were given a chance at being forgiven-he never would be-not with her.

"Fucking A -" She growled, "What part of 'careful' did you not understand?"

"Get off my case, woman," He retorted, "Like you can't take a little tiny nick."

She slid the knife into the small opening she had made in her fingers so it was between the duct tape and the grenade. Then she used it to cut the tape.

"We're out of time," He told her as she took the grenade and threw it as far as she could through the doorway and down the corridor.

"Down!" He bellowed lunging for her circling his arms around her and driving her down onto the ground. They hit the triggers when they landed on the floor. Poison darts flew through the air above them. He had noticed before that the dart guns seemed to start only at knee height, but just to be sure he made certain that she was on the bottom and his body was shielding hers from them. The grenade exploded shaking the corridor and the whole temple began to collapse around them. Dirt and stone fell around them. The tree whose roots have invaded the altar room fell through the ceiling and landed at an angle over their bodies to shield them as the walls collapsed and the dirt and mud and stone fell around them.

In all the commotion he hadn't realized that the leather string he kept around his neck had slipped out from under his shirt. And the AA medal for one year being sober and the wedding ring she had ripped from her finger and threw into his face that night he had hit rock bottom hung between her eyes.

One minute Mike was watching the grenade hurtle through the air with a distracted air, and the next she was tumbling with Jake's arms wrapped almost protectively around her. "What the fu...," she snarled, only to be cut off when they slammed against the ground, his body bouncing on hers a couple of times before they came to rest in a tangle of limbs. She would have tried to throw him off of her had it not been for the faint whizzing noises she could hear from those damn poison darts, but that didn't mean she'd stop the torrent of angry words that spilled forth.

"What the fuck were you thinking, hip checking me like that?!"

The grenade going off seemed to punctuate her furious words, and she wasn't sure if the shaking she felt was caused solely by the temple as it collapsed around them or if it was from the outrage that seemed to envelope her over his totally overly dramatic and equally unnecessary tactics. She brought both of her hands up to smack him in the shoulders as she continued to vent in frustration despite everything going on around them, "Do you think I'm a God damn idiot that I wouldn't know to get down, mother fucker? You could have broken my ribs crushing me under you like that... like I'm some pussy who wouldn't know to duck and roll. Hello, fucking grenade, right?"

Unfortunately she wasn't able to continue venting after she took in an angry breath of air and promptly started choking on the dirt, mud and loose stone that was clogging the air. Telling herself that she was only protecting herself, she ducked her head behind Jake's muscular form and tried to ignore the way it felt to be nestled so intimately against him after all this time. Her treacherous body, however, had apparently not forgotten as it softened against him almost in invitation.

Drawing herself up by forcibly reminding herself of how she had caught the fuckwad nestled between Monique's, their partner, bountiful breasts, the night of World War III, Mike's eyes shot open to see something glittering before her. Blinking rapidly to clear the grit from her long lashes, it took a moment to realize that Jake had taken to wearing something around his neck and another moment to process that one of the items dangling there was her former wedding ring.

Vaguely aware of another item on the leather string, she stewed over how the jerk-off must have started souvenir hunting from past relationships and bristled over how there had been no one else for her since their separation. Well, no one unless you counted the night when she had been nearly... Cutting off those thoughts with a sudden jerk of her head, she pushed against Jake's solid form again while growling, "Enough already... I think I'm safe enough... No thanks to you..."

IC: Jake Hunter

"Down!" He bellowed lunging for her circling his arms around her and driving her down onto the ground. They hit the triggers when they landed on the floor. Poison darts flew through the air above them. He had noticed before that the dart guns seemed to start only at knee height, but just to be sure he made certain that she was on the bottom and his body was shielding hers from them.

"Do you think I'm a God damn idiot that I wouldn't know to get down, mother fucker," She bellowed beating against his shoulders, "You could have broken my ribs crushing me under you like that... like I'm some pussy who wouldn't know to duck and roll. Hello, fucking grenade, right?"

Then the grenade exploded shaking the corridor and the whole temple began to collapse around them. Dirt and stone fell around them. The tree whose roots have invaded the altar room fell through the ceiling and landed at an angle over their bodies to shield them as the walls collapsed and the dirt and mud and stone fell around them.

In all the commotion he hadn't realized that the leather string he kept around his neck had slipped out from under his shirt. And the AA medal for one year being sober and the wedding ring she had ripped from her finger and threw into his face that night he had hit rock bottom hung between her eyes.

The fallen tree had shielded them providing a pocket of air from all the dirt and stone. He tucked the ring and medallion back into his shirt-he kept them as reminders of the two biggest mistakes of his life-looking at how they were going to climb out. He didn't like tight spaces. Part of him was that scared out of his mind boy being locked up in a closet again by an abusive dad. He forced himself to not panic. He had conquered this. Daylight was streaming through a shaft of debris upon them. He had plenty of air. He could get out of this, because he was going to lose it if he didn't climb out.

Some loose dirt slid down over them. That slope of debris wasn't looking too solid. It could collapse and bury them at any second. He had to get out. He needed more air. He had to get out.

Mike's shove brought his attention back to her. Her face was angry. He was good at making her put that face on-it was pretty much all he had ever been good for to her. "Enough already..."

He slipped off her out from under the tree and into the shaft of daylight shining down from the tropical sun above them. "I was just trying to protect you, ungrateful bi-"

"I think I'm safe enough... No thanks to you..."

"Fine," He growled looking back at her, "My mistake. Just another you can add to the list you carry."

He began crawling out. He needed to get out, to feel like he was not about to buried and forgotten, but now he was more firmly under control. He just happened to not care about the lose soil his efforts to crawl out of their hole was throwing in Mike's face right now.

See: not panicking from claustrophobia-just pissed off.

"What the hell are you doing here anyway," He stopped and glared back at her as the reason came to him, "Wait-you've come to rip the damned tablet from my hands? I didn't think you were that desperate to stick a knife into my back, Mike."

Before she could answer the sound of a helicopter lifting off rushed over.

He pointed to a Huey rising up from tree canopy. "She's getting away with whatever the hell that journal was."

For a minute, Mike could have sworn she saw that same damn look in Jake's eyes like the one she'd catch glimpses of from time to time during their failed marriage. The same almost haunted look where he'd look right through her, the one he denied every time she'd point it out. Her eyes narrowed, recalling the way he would roll his eyes at her and tell her she was imagining things, but she knew he was hiding something. Yeah, like how he was screwing around with our partner...

She ruthlessly pushed away the feeling of loss that threatened to swamp her when Jake rolled off of her and out from under the tree, telling herself that she couldn't trust the two timing son of a bitch and she'd be just as well off with a battery powered toy... At least those gave a warning when they were getting ready to fail her.

I was just trying to protect you, ungrateful bi-

"I think I'm safe enough...," she cut him off, "No thanks to you..."

Fine. My mistake. Just another you can add to the list you carry.

Her lips tightened at his growled words. For fuck's sake, was he back to that bellyaching?! He was always yammering about some imagined list she carried, like she kept some god damn scorecard on him. If he wanted a list of grievances, she'd easily be able to spout them off without the need of some stupid list.

Who was it that had insisted they get married? Who had nagged and cajoled her about how they were meant to be together forever - only to be found feasting hungrily on a mostly naked Monique with a mostly empty bottle of Gran Patrón Platinum nearby. Gran Patrón Platinum?!? After all the times he had told her they had to save money, he had been drinking Gran Patrón Platinum?!

She had been after him for months to either sell or at least repair that decrepit riverboat of his before it sank with them in it and had even used her own money in an attempt to fix the piece of shit, and he had been drinking that crap and fucking their partner?!?! What a fucking fool she had been.

Rolling out from under the tree, she mentally continued through her 'list' of grievances. She wasn't the one who had forgotten their wedding anniversary, opting instead to play poker with some dicks that he wasn't even that friendly with. And the smug way he always looked when people found out that she only had her G.E.D...

And the way he reacted whenever even the mention of children came up... She should have told him about the time she had missed her period, but he would have accused her of getting knocked up on purpose. Thankfully she had kept her scare to herself, and her period had just been a little late... Late most likely because of all the fighting they had been doing.

Forcing herself to take a deep breath, she told herself it didn't matter. None of it mattered. All she wanted, no needed, was for Jake to sign the fucking papers so she could get on with her life. Hell, she hadn't asked for a single fucking thing, just the dissolution of their marriage. She couldn't understand why he hadn't signed the papers. It wasn't like she was asking for a single cent from him, and it wasn't like they had ever had much in terms of assets since they had constantly moved from one adventure to the next.

Sputtering when Jake's movements started flinging dirt down on her, Mike wiped the soil from her face, leaving dark streaks across her cheeks, and moved to the side to glare at the son of a bitch's back. Fucker was probably doing that on purpose... scrambling up too fast when he had to know that he needed to take it slower or run the risk of bringing everything down on their heads.

What the hell are you doing here anyway? Wait-you've come to rip the damned tablet from my hands? I didn't think you were that desperate to stick a knife into my back, Mike.

Snorting in disbelief at the incredulous tone in his voice, she had half a mind to tell him that she'd sooner stab him in the nads before she'd stab him in the back, but was interrupted by the sound of a helicopter lifting up.

She's getting away with whatever the hell that journal was.

Taking advantage of Jake's preoccupation with the helicopter, Mike stealthily slipped the tablet out of his pack and into her own satchel, thinking she needed the money a hell of a lot more than he did since most of her money had been wasted trying to fix his money pit and Bennett Ellis was no Monique, the little bitch.

Taking a minute to measure the distance, she took a couple of steps back before vaulting over Mike using his back to launch herself up until she was able to find a surer foothold to clamber out from underground.

She stood for a minute looking down at her estranged husband before smiling sweetly and saying, "Thanks for the help, baby... I couldn't have done that without you" before turning on her heel and disappearing into the thick jungle, confident that he'd get out on his own shortly and equally sure that she didn't want to be in the area when he did.

IC: Jake Hunter

"She's getting away with whatever the hell that journal was."

The helicopter rose heading north to the mouth of the valley where you could find civilization in the form of a little town-though that may be a little too generous a term to call the village of Zapatoca. Still, it was the only village for a hundred miles and had been that way since the age of the Incans. More to the point, it was also the only place to refuel that Huey. Irina would have to set down there before going to give the journal to Zelenka in Bogota.

He was going to find out just what made that journal more valuable than a solid gold tablet. Irina Ortiz only thought she was badass. When he got through with her-

"Hey-oof," He cried out as Mike vaulted to the lip of the hole they were planting a foot into his back to do it. It droved him into the loose soil and mud and he slid down as Mike clambered out on top to the solid ground.

He looked up to see that mischievous smile that was one half sugar and the other half vinegar he had learned to know so well in their time together beaming down at him.

Alright, what had she done?

"Thanks for the help, baby..." She called down at him, "...I couldn't have done that without you."

His satchel was lighter. She had used his preoccupation with watching the direction Irina's Huey was going to pickpocket the tablet from his bag. He looked down to see it was indeed missing. Monique already had a buyer lined up for it. If he returned without it-

That wasn't going to happen. "Hey, give it back," He shouted up at her, but it was no use she was already turning to run off.

"Hey," He still called out after her, "Bitch, you better come back here!" It was no use. Mike was already gone.

Angrily he clawed his way to the lip of the hole and heaved himself up out of it.

Damned bitch," He thought, "Thinks she can get one over on me."

He looked around but she'd made certain not to leave any tracks. He'd get even with her. It was only a matter of time, but right now...it didn't matter. The only way out of the valley was Zapatoca. He'd use his boat to get there first. Swipe the journal out from that psycho, Irina's clutches. Then corner Mike and take back the tablet.

He rushed through the jungle to his beloved boat he'd moored on the banks of the river cutting its way through the valley. Posie may not look like much. She didn't have much in the way of power, but she never ever let him down unlike most other women he could name. He untied the rope from around the tree and climbed aboard her.

Good ole Posie always there for him. He turned the key and heard the sound of an engine revving and dying.

Come on girl. He tried again and again nothing. Don't do this. One more time and he got it running.

That was his girl. He headed back down river towards the village, but hadn't made it more than a mile before he saw water sloshing around the bottom of the boat.

Godamnit, he had paid to get that damned leak fixed once and for all. He bent down grabbed his old bucket from its resting place and began the timeworn maneuver of bailing the water out of his boat while simultaneously steering it. It was easier back when Mike was part of Posie's crew. She'd do the bailing and he'd do the steering. Those were good times, now-well times couldn't always be good, right?

He made it to town by mid-afternoon. Zapatoca was a town at a bend in the river rolling up a hill in narrow streets of mud trodden down by millennia of feet. Sure enough at the top of the hill rested a Huey helicopter. Knowing Irina Ortiz and Zelenka's rep. They'd probably booted the village's mayor out of his own house and told him to be honored about it.

He waited until night fell and then crept up to the house on the hill in front of the Huey. He watched Irina's goons patrol the perimeter with AK's or AR's or shotguns in their hands from the shadows. He knew guards well enough. Give them enough quiet long enough they'd eventually and inevitably get bored and complacent.

Three of them lounged around on the porch passing a bottle of rum between them and enjoying their cigarettes. It left two of them-probably the shmucks that drew the short straws to do the actual patrolling around the house. There was a light on upstairs. Irina was probably still up reading page after page of it.

He snuck around behind the house using the helicopter to shield his approach waiting for the guard to pass by. When he did he crept up behind him and wrapped his arm Around the man's neck in a sleeper hold. His other hand clamped over his mouth to stifle the startled shout the man was trying to bellow.

He could've fired a shot from his shotgun to alert his comrades but luckily he slumped in Jake's arms unconscious before he could gain the wherewithal to think of using his Saiga. He dragged him over and stashed him inside the Huey.

Now for the other one. pulling the Saiga to hang around his own neck. He began to creep over to the corner of the house. He peered around the corner to see if the other guard was still there. Instead he nearly bumped heads with Mike doing the same thing to look for the one he'd just taken out.

His eyes widened staring into her startled face. He pointed biting out in a choked whisper, "You-"

Hey, Bitch, you better come back here!

She had already slipped into the heavy vegetation when Mike heard Jake's angry call. It wouldn't be the first time she'd been called a bitch, but strangely it was the first time it really bothered her. Slapping away the vines that were trying to block her escape to the river, she felt... guilty and she didn't like it.

Yeah, she and Jake had always tried to one up each other during a retrieval and just because you got to an artifact first didn't mean you were the one to turn it over to that bitch Monique, but in the end it was always a joint effort. Even though she could really use the money especially considering how much she had poured into his precious boat, her conscious nagged at her. It really was his score...

Yelping in surprise when one of the branches she had brushed aside came whipping back at her, Mike chided herself for her inattention and all but snarled at herself to stop being so goddamn soft. If the fuckin' horn dogger had just kept his fuckin' dick in his pants, then they might still be together and the tablet would have been both of theirs. But since he hadn't, screw him...

Without warning the tangled thicket opened up and she quickly stepped out onto the river bank to look for her ride. Unfortunately the boat that caught her eye was not the one she expected to take her back to Zapatoca, and she stopped in front of Jake's pride and joy and considered shooting the damn thing.

'Posie, my ass,' she thought with a sneer, 'should be called piece of shit...'

Pequeña, I was starting to get worried...

With the exception of the tightening of her fingers, she made no other outward sign of surprise as the familiar deep voice sounded almost directly behind her. Wondering how such a large man could move so stealthily, she turned and gave Santiago a warm smile, a natural one that was only reserved for a handful of people.

"Piece of cake, hermano... I was only slightly delayed."

His brows lifted as he asked, "And the explosion I heard?"

Shrugging slightly, she laughed, "A slightly bigger delay?" Knowing that Jake wasn't going to be that far behind her, she said, "Would probably be smart to get heading back... before there are any other delays..."

Santiago smiled knowingly, but said nothing else as he led her to where he had tied up his boat. The Elena might not have been as big as Jake's POS, but it was a hell of a lot faster and more reliable. And I've never had bail duty on her... He quickly started her up, while Mike untied them before jumping aboard, their actions showing they had done this many times before.

Santiago had all but adopted her when she had saved his younger sister, Sofia, from some... unwanted attention. Mike had been walking into the bar for a drink after a particularly long argument with Bennett Ellis when she had seen the two men trying to force Sofia into the back room. Having been served by the shy young lady on a number of occasions, she had quickly read the situation and had stepped in to 'dissuade' the pricks to leave the terrified young woman alone. That fact that she was itching for a fight and was able to work off some of her frustration had been a bonus.

However since that night, Santiago had taken her under his wing, and had helped provide transportation or similar assistance when she was off on one wild goose chase or another, although his job at the airport sometimes kept that from happening. He had tried to get her to promise not to accept jobs when he wasn't available, and had been surprised when she had suddenly capitulated although she had never shared why.

Mike jerked in surprise when a large hand settled on her shoulder, and she was embarrassed to realize that she must have been daydreaming for quite a while and that Santiago had been trying to get her attention. She turned to face him with a questioning lift to her brows, especially once she saw the concern reflecting in his dark brown eyes.

"Cariño, you know better than to leave that for too long... especially in the jungle," he chided her patiently.

Her brows furrowed as she tried to figure out what he was yammering about now. Seeing his eyes flick to the front of her shirt, she also looked and swore when she saw the thin stripe of blood seeping through the once white material.

"Dammit... I forgot," she muttered as she whipped her shirt off to get a better look at the wound. She wasn't concerned about modesty in front of Santiago as he was still deeply in love with his wife who had died two years earlier. Had Manuel been along... That would have been a totally different situation. Besides, her sports bra provided more coverage than the bikini she would occasionally don in front of the Alvarez family.

Thankfully, it didn't look that bad, and she waved off his help as she pulled out the first aid kit and set about to disinfecting it. It rankled a bit that he had to point it out to her in the first place. She wasn't some fucking newbie when it came to jungle survival, and everyone knew that even the simplest cuts could become infected if left untreated. Once she was done cleaning the small wound caused by Jake's carelessness, she covered it with a small bandage.

Slipping her shirt back on, she rejoined Santiago and the two of them stood in companionable silence, which was only broken occasionally by a random comment during the long ride back to Zapatoca.

-----------------------

Leaning back against the trunk of the tall tree she had scaled earlier in the day, Mike perched in the branches and chewed absently on her thumb, trying to decide what to do. She had been scoping out the activities around the mayor's house for several hours, watching the routine of the men, who didn't bother hiding the fact that they were guarding something. What was so important about that journal?!

She watched and waited as the afternoon passed. Analyzed and weighed the odds, stewing over how the bitch had tried to kill her and Jake. Hours passed, and she was thankful she had changed clothes upon reaching the village, her black shirt and jeans blending in with the night sky. Whatever was in that journal, it had to be big to get Zelenka's attention, and she wanted to know what it was that had almost gotten her killed. Still might get her killed...

Five guards were outside, although given the bottle of rum the three on the porch sounded like they were sharing, it was really only two that she'd likely have to worry about. Well two and that puta Irina... Not necessarily good odds, but she didn't want to drag Santiago or any other Alvarez into this, especially with Zelenka involved. She might have a death wish, but she didn't want to involve what was the closest thing she had ever had to a family.

Knowing she had least had to try, she waited until the two guards stuck doing the actual patrolling had passed each other before slipping out of the tree. She had spotted a good sized tree branch on the ground earlier, and with luck... and really good timing... she'd be able to bean the one guard, grab his gun and get after the second one before anyone knew what was happening.

Sure enough, she was able to bash the guard on the head, dropping him instantly. Thankful that he was the smaller of the guards, she dragged him over to a nearby tree and propped him up as if he were taking a break.

Snagging his gun like it was a club, thinking she'd repeat the process with the second guard, Mike ran silently to the corner of the house to check for his location. To say that she was surprised when she and Jake nearly bumped heads was an understatement and based on the look on his face, the same was true for him.

You—

She would have responded with a sarcastic comment about her surprise that his damn boat worked long enough to get him to the village, but she caught movement behind him and all but flipped him over her shoulder to keep him from being seen. 'Them... she did it to keep them from being seen,' she told herself.

She only spared him a long enough look to make sure she hadn't knocked him out too before placing a finger to her lips and then crouching down to look carefully around the corner.

IC: Jake Hunter

Now for the other one. pulling the Saiga to hang around his own neck. He began to creep over to the corner of the house. He peered around the corner to see if the other guard was still there. Instead he nearly bumped heads with Mike doing the same thing to look for the one he'd just taken out.

His eyes widened staring into her startled face. He pointed biting out in a choked whisper, "You-"

Their eyes locked wide in shock to see the other for a moment. and then something made her eyes shift behind him. He heard something from back there. Someone was coming around the far corner of the house. He turned to take a look at-

-Jake was flung over onto his back landing on the hard ground with an explosive flush of air followed by a groan. Mike had acted by pure instinct and rolled him over her shoulder in that Judo move he had taught her that week in Panama to pull him out of view of whoever was coming around the corner.

But he had made some noise-which Mike was sure to blame him for even though it was clearly her fault-which would probably alert any competent guard. He got up and peeked over Mike's shoulder seeing the guard coming around from the front porch staggering with a half-drunk bottle of Rum in his hand singing-if you could call it singing rather than drunken warbling- the chorus of Eminem's 'Lose Yourself' half in original English and half in Spanish. He staggered shouting for Manuel or Jorge before stopping to unzip and relieve himself in the middle of the Mayor's vegetable garden.

Using his drunken preoccupation Mike left the safety of their corner to deal with the incompetent guard. In the meantime Jake lifted himself up to peek over the window sill into the house inside. He saw the familiar shape of Irina's M249. It seemed dark and quiet otherwise. Maybe she had fallen asleep in there.

He looked over to Mike who had dispatched the guard. That left only the two on the front porch. Judging by the state Senor Colombian Idol had been there they were both probably just as helplessly plastered. Jake knew from bitter experience that it didn't take much to lose track of how much you had. Then you got into the territory where hurting the ones close to you by your own stupidity became more and more likely. The AA medal he wore around his neck was testament to that.

He lifted back up to peek through the window. To see a meaty hand reach and lift the SAW up and turn it out towards where Mike was standing over the body of the guard.

"Mike," He barked dropping back onto his back, "Get down!"

He managed to cover his face as the SAW's bullets ripped through the glass and straight at Mike. If that psychotic bitch hurt her...

...The muzzle dipped down for him. He could see Irina's face twisted into an expression of murderous angry intent. Acting on the instinct anyone would have at seeing a M249's business end pointing straight at them that close. His hand grabbed and pulled it to one side as it spat three shots into the dirt to one side of his head.

The barrel was hot-searing his hand hot, but for the life of him (literally) he didn't let go. The worst was the ringing in his ear. He had heard of people losing their hearing because they got too close to gunfire without ear protection...he hoped it wasn't permanent.

He swung the Saiga up but Irina's hand grabbed it copying his own move holding the shotgun just out of line with her head.

He let off a round that shot several holes into the ceiling of the room she was in. He hoped she got more than just the ringing in her ears from that, but the were stuck wrestling eachother trying to drag their guns back to point at eachother.

Fuck, she was strong.

He was losing this arm-wrestling match. The muzzle of the M249 was forcing its back in line with his head against all the strength he could muster.

Mike hadn't had the opportunity to practice the Judo move Jake had insisted she learn during that one particularly tense stint in Panama, and it was somewhat bittersweet to have executed it so flawlessly when trying to keep her estranged husband from getting caught with his ass hanging out for whomever was coming around the corner to see. And if she gained a small sense of satisfaction in the way he hit the ground, well it was just payback for the number of times he had thrown her during his tutoring session.

'At least I never groaned like some pussy,' she thought with a little sneer on her full lips as she peeked around the corner, fully expecting the rest of the goons to come investigate the caterwauling. 'And the dickhead used to laugh at how noisy he could get me to be...'

Ruthlessly suppressing the memories of exactly how he would cleverly manipulate her body until she was screaming his name, she came centimeters away from slamming her elbow into his gut when he loomed up behind her to peer over her shoulder. Focus... You can kick his sorry ass later...

Thankfully the guard who came staggering around the corner was making enough noise to have missed Jake's less than silent landing, and she smirked at the sight he made as he attempted to walk what he must have thought was a straight line. Smirked until she figured out what the hell he was attempting to sing in his Spanglish rendition of Eminem's 'Lose Yourself'.

God dammit she hated that fucking song. It was bad enough that Manuel played it over and over again - she swore he knew her aversion to it, but it had been playing the night of her personal World War III and there was something about the phrase You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow... This opportunity comes once in a lifetime that haunted her still. Fucking idiot...

When the drunken fool started calling for the other guards, Mike knew she was going to have to take him out. The minute she realized he was going to take a leak, she muttered in a whisper, "I got this... No sense in having you try to alert everyone we're here again."

She took off at a dead sprint without bothering to wait for his response, knowing it would only likely piss her off anyway. The idiot never heard her coming and had barely tucked his dick back in his pants before she wrapped her arm around his neck and caught him in the sleeper hold she had perfected, again thanks to Jake's insistence.

Slowly lowering him to the ground, she snagged his gun and stood up, preparing to return to the relative safety of the corner of the house when she heard Jake's sharp warning.

Mike, get down!

Her ears caught the sound of shots being fired and the explosive tinkling of shattered glass, and she threw herself to the right and felt what she swore were bullets barely passing over her head. Cursing, she rolled a few more feet before coming up into a mid crouch and looked over to see Jake wrestling with the barrel of a SAW from inside the house and trying to bring his own gun up at whomever was inside.

Given his struggle, she guessed that Irina was on the other end, and she watched in horror as her gun slowly inched towards his head. Remembering the gun she had discarded in her desperate roll, she lunged for it, brought the gun up and got a shot off before she heard the other two guards heading around the corner.

A quick glance back at Jake showed that the SAW had disappeared, but she couldn't tell if she had gotten a direct hit on the bitch or not. Of course, the two guards had to turn the corner and spot her at that exact minute, and of course the fucking shotgun was useless when she tried to fire at them.

"Fuck me..." she breathed before pushing herself up to her feet to defend herself.

The smaller of the guards tripped over his own feet and went down hard, his forehead bouncing on the ground. And he didn't move after that. Well hot damn...

Unfortunately the other guard didn't seem to be as incapacitated and continued rushing towards her. Deciding that her best bet would be a flying side kick, she rushed toward him and prepared herself to execute her intended kick. As luck would have it, her opponent managed to get his arm up enough to change up her momentum and she ended up having to twist her body into a partial tornado kick at the last minute.

And that's how she ended up with her thighs wrapped around her opponent's neck and her face planted in his crotch, while he held her arms pinned to her sides. Oh you have got to be fucking kidding me...

Gagging on the overwhelming smell of sweat, she squeezed her thighs as hard as she could, trying to cut off his air supply as he tried to pop her shoulders out of joint by pulling her arms up and back. She was getting ready to headbutt his genitals when she felt him stagger, and less than ten seconds later he was going down with her with him.

IC: Jake Hunter

He was losing this arm-wrestling match. The muzzle of the M249 was forcing its way back in line with his head against all the strength he could muster.

His ears were ringing and he bled from a dozen nicks from the shattered glass that had fallen onto him.

"Oh shit," He thought as the barrel of the SAW nearly came to point at his head despite his efforts to keep it away.

Then a burst of three shots was fired from the direction Mike had been. One hit the side of the house and the other flew into the room just over Irina's ear, but the last barely grazed her shoulder. She growled from the pain but let go of the SAW and Saiga to duck back inside behind cover from Mike's rifle.

This was Jake's chance. He rocked back up to his feet and fired three shots from the Saiga into the darkened room. The big Russian shotgun blasted a cabinet apart. Several holes into the far wall and the sofa. He was about to fire another round when he spotted the journal lying on a table to one side of the cabinet.

That hesitation was all the time Irina needed. She reached out and grabbed hold of the shotgun and wrenched it out of his hands. then a huge combat boot slammed into his chest sprawling him back onto the backyard. Irina climbed out of the window after him one hand reaching behind her to pull out that big-assed bowie knife she had back at the temple. She jumped down from the window brandishing it while glaring bloody murder at him. "Should've stayed dead and buried, Romeo."

Mike was busy dealing with the small fries from the front porch. Jake was on his own dealing with this freak.

She came for him swinging the huge-assed knife to skewer his chest in an overhand swipe. He rolled so all she stabbed was the patch of lawn he had been lying on. He grabbed the discarded SAW and swung it so the stock slammed into the side of her knee. It buckled and Irina staggered to one side onto the dirt. He tried to aim it at her but had to let go when she grabbed it to pull him close so her bowie knife could slice his arms open.

They rose back to their feet squaring off against eachother. Irina threw her SAW to one side favoring the bowie knife. Jake matched her pulling out his own knife, an army surplus K-bar, from his boot. Then the came for eachother. Knifefights, the ones that were to the death were always quick and nasty affairs.

She was good. Jake spotted some Israeli Krav Maga as well as some hefty doses of MMA close-in grappling moves to her repertoire. She was pretty fast though he was faster, but that was mitigated by how fucking strong she was.

Their grappling at knifepoint ended with them locked arms entangled but their knives pointing at the other's throat. They wrestled with eachother to drive their blade that last fatal inch while keeping the other's back.

But she was so strong. She lifted him up off his feet and pinned him against the side of the house. Leaning in to add more strength into her knifehand. He was in trouble. She had all the leverage here. He felt the tip of the bowie knife against his adam's apple. He lifted his knee between them to keep her pushing that last fatal inch.

He saw Mike rising to her feet in his peripheral vision. He hated, hated, having to ask her for help, but he didn't think either of them could take Irina down on their own. Mike would never, ever let him live it down. Just another of the many many things she'd never let hear the end of.

But he sucked it up and shouted, "Mike, how about a hand here?"

Cursing aloud as her flying side kick was partially blocked by what she figured was sheer dumb luck of the inebriated guard, Mike quickly twisted her body in what ended up being only a partial tornado kick, and a sloppy one at that. She should have been happy that she hadn't fallen completely on her ass, allowing the drunken fool to get the upper hand, but she wasn't sure the position she ended up in was necessarily any better.

Thighs clamped around the guard's neck, squeezing as hard as she could in an attempt to render him unconscious, she had to grit her teeth against the pain as he retaliated by yanking her arms back and up until she feared he was going to dislocate both of her shoulders.

And if the pain didn't get her, the overpowering smell of sweat assailing her poor nostrils as she hung upside down with her face buried in his crotch might do it. 'Motherfucker, need to take a shower more than once a month,' she thought as she tensed up preparing to headbutt his genitals, but apparently her desperate squeezing won out as she felt him stagger, and less than ten seconds later he was going down with her with him.

She was able to get her arms up to mostly break the fall thanks to his unconscious state, but unfortunately she wasn't able to stop his deadweight from slamming into her when they hit the ground. It took a moment for the cartoon-like birdies to stop circling her head, and for her to extract herself out from under the still form.

Staggering to her feet, she felt a warm trickle from her nose and automatically raised her hand to check for bleeding. Hissing at the pain in her shoulder, she swiped at her sore nose and saw that it was indeed bleeding. 'Fucking perfect, thanks jackass,' she groused as she kicked the downed guard in the shoulder, telling herself that she couldn't kick him in the head like she wanted to since he was unconscious.

Mike, how about a hand here?

There was an underlying element of almost panic in the shout from her estranged husband that had her whipping her head in his direction, and she blinked in horror as she took in his precarious position. The only thing keeping the Bowie knife at his throat from slicing in was the knee that he was using in a desperate attempt to keep Irina away.

"Shit," she breathed before leaning down to grab a Gerber Ghoststrike fixed blade knife out of each of her boots, ignoring the trickle of blood still flowing from her nose, before taking off at a dead run towards Jake. She knew she had hit the bitch earlier. How the hell had he been caught off guard enough that the giantess had him in a near fatal hold? Do I have to do all the work around here or what?!

As she closed the distance between them, Mike drew back her right arm and flung the knife with unerring accuracy, traveling so close to the side of Irina's head that she was fairly sure she saw a small amount of hair fall before the knife embedded itself in the wooden siding. Jake was able to use Irina's momentary distraction to push her even further away.

Transferring the other knife to her right hand, she drew up behind Irina and pressed the blade against her side, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough that the other woman knew what was being held against her. Sniffing, she muttered in a purposefully bored voice, "You know, Jake... This is the second time today, this puta has tried to kill you... I'm thinking she doesn't like you very much..."

The bunching of muscles in Irina's back and shoulders was the only warning Mike had before the other woman spun to her left with a deep snarl. Thankfully that meant the wicked Bowie knife was no longer against Jake's throat, but unfortunately it was now aimed at her and the dark look on the other woman's face left little doubt that she was less than pleased at her interruption.

Taking a cautious step backwards, trying to draw her even further away from Jake, Mike beckoned her opponent with a patently unconcerned smile as she taunted, "Come on, puta... Let's see what you can do when you don't have all your minions helping you out." She really didn't have a clue as to what she was going to do, and hoped that Jake would be able to do something productive versus keep having her rescue his ass.

IC: Jake Hunter

But she was so strong. She lifted him up off his feet and pinned him against the side of the house. Leaning in to add more strength into her knifehand. He was in trouble. She had all the leverage here. He felt the tip of the bowie knife against his adam's apple. He lifted his knee between them to keep her pushing that last fatal inch.

He saw Mike rising to her feet in his peripheral vision. He hated, hated, having to ask her for help, but he didn't think either of them could take Irina down on their own. Mike would never, ever let him live it down. Just another of the many many things she'd never let hear the end of.

But he sucked it up and shouted, "Mike, how about a hand here?"

"Indiana Barbie isn't going to save you now, Romeo," Irina chuckled darkly, "My hermanos should be fucking her up so bad her mascara is going to feel it."

Then one of Mike's beloved Gerber ghoststrikes flew past her head. A lock of her dark hair fell free from her head and landed on the ground at her feet.

She turned to look at Mike charging in to his rescue. Fuck, how he hated to admit that?.

"Voy a romper usted como usted es el palillo de dientes para eso," Irina glared to her.

Now was his chance. Jake pushed with his legs pushing off her chest pulling the point of the bowie knife back away from his throat. "Hey watch your language, you ugly bitch."

She glared to him as Mike had come up to her side and stuck the Gerber's tip to tickle Irina's ribs. "You know, Jake..." She said with a infuriatingly smug tint to her voice, "This is the second time today, this puta has tried to kill you... I'm thinking she doesn't like you very much..."

He laughed with gallows humor pointed to her, "Wouldn't be the first girl to try it."

"Enough," Irina snarled spinning to the left and pointing the tip of the big bowie knife right at Mike's face. "You both are going to feel this dancing in your guts tonight."

"You first," Jake said plunging his K-bar into the back of her shoulder. Irina screamed and released him. Jake landed on his ass. He scrambled to rise to his feet but Irina lashed out with a wicked sidekick connecting with the side of his head knocking back onto the ground.

Irina fended off Mike's attacks. Mike had gotten much better at knife fighting, but even with one arm Irina was able to keep her from stabbing deep and ending it. Mike was able to scratch her three or four times, but Irina was a fucking tank soaking up all Mike did to her and kept on coming.

Jake scrambled back up to his feet.

Irina was absorbed not getting stabbed by mike's Gerber, and he had a good idea all of a sudden.

"Not good enough. Go back to doing your nails, Barbie doll," Irina said using a muay thai knee jab to Mike's sternum to knock her sprawling onto the ground.

"Hey," Jake yelled to her. She turned to see him standing with the journal in hand being held over a lit cigarette lighter. "Have you read all of this yet, bitch."

"You-" She stepped towards him with murderous intention in her eyes.

"Whoa there tonto," He said stopping her as he fluttered the dry pages over the journal's pages. "Here's the deal you let us walk and you get to find out how this ends, or you get the worst cliff-hanger of an ending in history."

Mike wasn't sure how she managed it, but one minute she was looking in horror at the precarious position her estranged husband was in with the only thing keeping the Bowie knife at his throat from slicing it was the knee that he was using in a desperate attempt to keep Irina away, and the next was hauling ass towards him, flinging one of her precious Gerbers at the bitch threatening her husband. He would never know how close she kept her knives to her these days, nor would she admit how telling it was for her to toss it so easily in an attempt to aid him.

Voy a romper usted como usted es el palillo de dientes para eso.

The look Irina shot her over her shoulder was both comical and terrifying, and caused Mike to press her second blade against the giantess' side, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough that the other woman knew what was being held against her. Stewing over the threat of being broken like a toothpick, she whispered, "Probarlo, perra" loud enough for the other woman to hear.

Sniffing, she went on to mutter in a purposefully bored voice, "You know, Jake... This is the second time today, this puta has tried to kill you... I'm thinking she doesn't like you very much..."

He laughed with gallows humor pointed to her, "Wouldn't be the first girl to try it."

Apparently Irina didn't find her observation or Jake's pointed reminder of how her temper had nearly gotten him skewered the night of their personal world war three very amusing, and she whirled around to brandish the wicked looking knife in her direction, looking like she was very much looking forward to carving her up.

Enough. You both are going to feel this dancing in your guts tonight.

So focused on each other, neither she nor Irina had expected Jake to finally go on the offensive, plunging his K-bar into the back of Irina's shoulder. Mike would have cheered except it only seemed to whip the other woman into a murderous rage as she caught Jake in the head so hard she feared he'd be knocked senseless before directing her attention towards her.

Taking a cautious step backwards, trying to draw her even further away from Jake, Mike beckoned her opponent with a patently unconcerned smile as she taunted, "Come on, puta... Let's see what you can do when you don't have all your minions helping you out." Unfortunately the giantess seemed to have no problem fending off her attacks, underscoring the need for her to concentrate on her offensive skills. 'If I survive this,' she thought as she danced out of reach.

Masking her growing unease as best she could, she tried every trick that the Alvarez brothers had tried to teach her, but nothing she did seemed to faze her opponent. She could tell she was slowing down, and based on the way the other woman started to go on the offensive more and more, Irina could sense it as well.

Not good enough. Go back to doing your nails, Barbie doll.

Feeling like she had been kicked in the chest by a mule, Mike tried to turn into the fall, hoping to be able to roll to her feet, but ended up lolling on the ground trying to catch her breath and watching as the bitch loomed over her. There was no mistaking the look of unholy glee in her dark eyes as she waved her Bowie menacingly over her vulnerable position.

The sound of Jake's voice calling tauntingly caught both their attention, and she watched in interest as the other woman first moved toward him and then froze, every muscle clenching in protest at his threat to set fire to the journal.

Quite frankly, she couldn't tell if he was bluffing or not, and took advantage of Irina's preoccupation to scramble painfully to her feet. Noticing a discarded Saiga, she stooped down to pick it, swinging it up to rest on her shoulder like a baseball bat.

Incluso no pensar en eso, idiota!

The hissed words could barely be heard through her clenched teeth, but it was the way Irina's seemed to be drawing herself up for attack that had Mike automatically swinging the gun in an upward arc that connected with her head with a very satisfactory thunk. There was a charged moment while she waited to see if the other woman would shrug off this attack like she had the other ones before she toppled to the ground with a mighty thud.

Stomping over to where Jake stood open mouthed, she wasn't sure if she wanted to kiss him or hit him so settled for snarling at him, "You couldn't think of doing that before she kicked me in the chest?!"

Poking him in the chest approximately where hers was still aching, she continued venting her frustration until even she couldn't follow her thought process, and of course, Jake being Jake didn't just idly stand there so the two of them were standing toe to toe arguing when the first shot came whizzing by over their heads. Startled, they looked over Mike's shoulder to where a less than sober guard was fumbling with a gun he looked less than capable of holding steady.

Mike wasn't sure which of them cussed, if not both of them, before they separated, rolling in opposite directions. Thankfully, she still had the Saiga, which she fired as soon as her somersault was finished, which caused the man to duck before getting off a second shot. Looking to her left, she watched dumbfounded as Jake disappeared around the corner of the house without some much as a a backward glance.

"Fucking prick," she yelled, "Sure... Let me clean up your mess... Like always!"

She couldn't believe the bastard had just taken off like that, after she had to save his ass how many times?! She squeezed off another round to keep the cowering guard at bay before her eyes widened and she screeched in outrage as the realization that not only had he taken off, but that he had taken off with the journal too. Fucking prick!

IC: Jake Hunter

"Whoa there tonto," He said stopping her as he fluttered the dry pages over the lighter's flame. "Here's the deal you let us walk and you get to find out how this ends, or you get the worst cliff-hanger of an ending in history."

"Incluso no pensar en eso, idiota!"

"Oh, an idiot, am I," He asked fluttering the pages into the tip of the flame so the edge began to singe. He quickly blew out the smoldering page. He saw Mike rise to her feet behind Irina, She lifted up his discarded Saiga and heft like a baseball bat.

"Yes, you are," Irina bit out, "Only idiots fuck with Zelenka...soon to be painfully dead idi-ack."

Mike Swung the shotgun so the butt slammed into the back of the giantess' head, and she fell face first into the mud unconscious.

He closed the lighter standing there like the idiot his wife-estranged wife: always had to correct himself on that these days-came right up to him.

"You couldn't think of doing that before she kicked me in the chest?!," She snarled jabbing a finger into his chest between ribs with enough force to puncture someone's lungs in Alaska or something.

"Ouch," He bit back rubbing where she'd poked on his chest. One more sore spot to add to tonight's list. The side of his head where that ogress, Irina, had kicked him was still killing him. "How about thanking me for saving your sexy ass?" Not even noticing the Freudian slip of the tongue he'd committed. "You know if you kept in practice I wouldn't have had to come to your rescue, and also you wouldn't have let her past your guard in the first place, Mike."

They argued a moment later until over Mike's shoulder Jake saw the guard Mike had knocked out near the chopper rise groggily to his feet. Whether it was from the rum he'd had too much of or the bout of unconsciousness courtesy of Mike earlier it was hard to tell, but he clearly saw them look to the two of them and reach for a weapon.

"Fuck," He swore as thankfully the drunk guard firing a Beretta at them shot a round that impacted into the side of the house. They catapulted apart then, their argument forgotten as two more poorly aimed shots came at them.

Jake ducked around the corner of the house. He had no more weapons. His pistol had fallen free in the tussle with Irina, and Mike still had the Saiga. The only thing he had in his hands right now was the journal.

He bit his lip. He didn't like doing what he was thinking of doing, but Mike was a big girl more than capable of dealing with one drunk guard wasting his ammo without hitting anything. He didn't look back. He knew if he did he'd rush to her rescue as he always did only to get the hand up he offered her bitten yet again. He had an unsigned piece of paper back home saying she wanted the two of them over with. Even when they had been together they always at each other's throats. He didn't owe her anything.

So why did he feel like such a bastard bailing on her like this?

He ran through the streets of the village heading for his beloved boat. He'd give the journal to Monique. She'd be able to figure out why a total hardcore bastard like Lukas Zelenka wanted it so bad. She'd give him shit about losing the tablet, but the journal should make up for that.

He couldn't hear anymore gunshots. Mike probably finished it unscathed and was hot on his heels. He needed to get to Posie as fast as he could if he wanted to get away with journal at all.

So relieved that their encounter with Irina was over, Mike lost track of everything but the need to vent her spleen, her frustration so great even she couldn't follow her thought process. Of course, Jake being Jake didn't just idly stand there so the two of them were standing toe to toe arguing when the first shot came whizzing by over their heads. Startled, they looked over Mike's shoulder to where a less than sober guard was fumbling with a gun he looked less than capable of holding steady.

Mike wasn't sure which of them cussed, if not both of them, before they separated, rolling in opposite directions. Thankfully, she still had the Saiga, which she fired as soon as her somersault was finished, which caused the man to duck before getting off a second shot. Looking to her left, she watched dumbfounded as Jake disappeared around the corner of the house without some much as a backward glance.

"Fucking prick," she yelled, "Sure... Let me clean up your mess... Like always!"

She couldn't believe the bastard had just taken off like that, after she had to save his ass how many times?! She squeezed off another round to keep the cowering guard at bay before her eyes widened and she screeched in outrage as the realization that not only had he taken off, but that he had taken off with the journal too. Fucking prick!

Mike was beyond pissed. She would so livid her hands shook. At this point, she no longer cared about holding back, simply trying to keep the bumbling drunkard from coming closer. No she needed him out of the way so she could retrieve her precious knives laying near that bitch Irina so that she could go after that fucking prick of a husband of hers and finish what they had started so many months ago.

She squeezed off two shots in rapid succession and smiled, a feral one of dark satisfaction, as she shot the guard first in his hand causing him to drop the Baretta with a startled cry and then his left thigh - nothing fatal, but one that dropped him to the ground writhing in pain. Fucking pricks - all men were nothing but fucking pricks!

Stalking around the corner, she hurried over to collect her knives. Her mind clicked through all the possible places the ass might have tied up his piece of shit as she bent over to slide first the right and then the left Gerber into place.

She was going to kill him. No, first she was going to punch a hole in that money pit of his and then she was going to kill him. Begging for her to save his sorry ass and then fucking leaving her to take care of his problems? No - she was going to sink his precious boat while he watched, and then she was going cut off his fucking dick, stuff it in his mouth and then ki-.

Her thoughts of revenge were abruptly cut off as a heavily muscled arm caught her from behind in a harsh chokehold and she was lifted up against an equally hard body, legs kicking wildly for purchase.

"¿Qué tengo aquí?" asked a deep, oily voice.

Her fingers tried to burrow between the band of steel and her neck, seeking to relieve pressure on her windpipe, while squeaks of protests spilled from her lips. A black haze of pure terror enveloped her as history seem determined to repeat itself, her mind flashing back to when...

She was practically spun in the air before being slammed against the side of the house, pinned in place by a very large, very sober man who blinked like he had been caught napping. Not recognizing him from the guard from earlier, she could only guess that the man, who held her throat between his hands with such bruising force, was one that Jake had taken care of before they had run into each other.

'Jake, help!' she cried silently, hoping somehow he'd know she was in trouble and come save her.

The guard leaned in, his black eyes clearly signaling his enjoyment of her terrified struggles, although he relaxed his crushing grip infinitesimally as he leered at her.

"¿Que ha llegado a jugar con Hector?" he asked looking down her shirt making her think that perhaps he hadn't seen her replacing her knives earlier; however, she wasn't so sure with his next words.

"Tal vez Irina nos permitirá jugar con used antes de que te mata!" he growled before he licked her lips in a slobbering, disgusting display, causing her to struggle even harder at the thought of what the ass might have in mind.

He pulled his head back, seeming content to grind himself suggestively against her while maintaining that damn grip on her throat, leaving her to wonder if she'd ever be able to speak normally assuming she got away.

Wheezing, she looked over his right shoulder, her eyes widening as if seeing something. Forcing herself to relax as if in relief, she waited anxiously, counting the seconds.

1... 2... 3...

Unable to resist looking for a possible attack, the guard turned his head in the direction she had been looking. The moment he turned, his hands relaxed even more, giving Mike the opportunity she needed. Erupting in a flurry of movement, she brought her knee up sharply catching him squarely in the gonads, right before she swung her now joined hands up and cracked him in his jaw with a satisfying thunk.

He fell to the ground, and Mike didn't didn't hesitate, fleeing as if the hounds of hell were after her. And unfortunately, since they have been Zelenka's goons, they very well now could be. She ran, knowing they had seen enough of her to easily identify her. Ran, knowing she couldn't go to the Alvarez's, couldn't bring danger to her adopted family. Ran, not knowing where she could go or who she could turn to.

IC: Jake Hunter

Bogota was the capitol of Colombia, and while they were here in country this warehouse on the southside of the city served as their headquarters.

Jake had a difficult time getting here though. He had reached about two thirds of the way down the river when his beloved Posie had started sinking faster than usual. He had to dock her at a nearby village. Turned out that pesky hole on her bottom had come unsealed and then once he fixed the leak the motor decided not to cooperate with him anymore. It had been a frustrating couple of days stranded in that village, and finally he had to leave it behind to come back to Bogota.

On top of all that he was still having moments where he caught himself second-guessing himself about leaving Mike behind in that tight spot back there. It made him feel like such a total bastard. It was starting to piss him off. She was the one in the wrong, butting into his business, stealing that damned tablet which he was going to still get in deep trouble over, journal or no journal. Monique already had a buyer lined up for it after all.

He walked inside seeing the boys packing certain relics for shipping and others servicing the computers for leads to other relics for him to retrieve. He climbed up the stairs to the office of the warehouse where Monique was.

He had kept a certain amount of distance from her eversince that disaster of a night he and Mike had been arguing about having a kid as per usual, and he had one too many as per usual, and Monique had been kind and understanding. One thing had led to another and he and her just sort of happened and then Mike kicked in the door more pissed than he'd ever seen her, and he'd seen her pissed plenty of times before that.

Part of him felt like such a bastard about cheating on her with Monique, and still staying to work with her, but Monique was the best there was in this limited business, and with Mike gone Jake was the only person in retrieval she had.

"Hey, Mo," He said stepping into the office pulling out the journal from his bag, "I wasn't able to get that tablet, but I think this will more than make up for it."

He dropped it onto her desk for her to investigate, "From what I read its some journal of a Spanish monk that accompanied one of the conqistadors looking to rob the natives blind."

He sat down and rested his boots on her desk, "You wouldn't believe who I ran into getting it. Mike, you know: 'Next time I see you I'll kill you, bitch', that and Lukas Zelenka's pet attack dog, Irina Ortiz. She wanted the journal and didn't give a fuck about getting the tablet...so that means its gotta be worth something, right, like a whole lot more?"

Ducking down the narrow alleyway that ran alongside the building, Mike mentally counted the windows before stepping onto the appropriate dilapidated fire escape that would take her to the near her intended target. She knew from previous experience most people in the building worked during the day and that the Garcias, while sharp eyed were practically deaf, so she wasn't overly concerned with stealth as she jumped up and then pulled herself onto the metal landing.

She knew she was banking on people maintaining the status quo, but it wasn't like she had much of a choice. It had been too hard to blend in earlier despite her efforts to camouflage her hair with an old baseball hat and cast off clothes she had appropriated doing her hijacking of the Elena.

Her full lips twisted in a semblance of a smile at the memory. It was a good thing she know she had Santiago's blessing to borrow his beloved, we should be in serious trouble for her borrowing of his boat. 'Well, more serious trouble,' she groused as she climbed to the next landing. She still had a hard time believing the length Zelenka's goons were going over something she didn't even have.

Her lips flattened at the memory of sitting in yet another tree as Santiago walked up to the shack that the Alvarez's kept as their 'vacation' home with four other guys. Anyone but family might have believed the 'I'm just a dumb fisherman' routine but Mike could hear his frustration and growing concern as he kept asking what exactly the other men needed with her.

She couldn't quite make out the mumbled excuse the tallest one finally gave but thought it was something along the lines of hiring her out as a guide, which was something she had done from time to time. Except anyone with half a brain would recognize them as Zelenka's thugs and not the adventurers they were trying to portray.

She had been in the process of moving deeper into the shadows of the tree when she spotted a familiar face and had to swallow an embarrassingly girlish gasp. Hector! She shivered at the memory of how he had pinned her to the house, and her fingers unconsciously crept up to cover her badly bruised throat.

Unfortunately her indrawn breath hasn't gone unnoticed, but thankfully only Santiago seemed to understand who might have made the sound, and Mike watched as he purposely turned his body away from her hiding place and urged the others to hurry up. He complained loudly about how this trip was a waste of time and how Mike would never bother coming out there manly home away from home, and she rolled her eyes at his blatant dissembling. She spent more time here than most of the other Alvarez brothers, and Santiago knew it. She just took the others didn't as well.

They had all followed him inside the simple shack, leaving Mike to wonder if they'd. go so far as to check under the bed or inside the closet. She was glad she had taken the time to straighten up, removing any signs of her overnight stay. The only reason they hadn't found her inside in the first place was she had been feeling too antsy, a feeling that she had learned to pay attention to over the last 18 months.

It didn't take long to be for the men were exiting the structure, badgering Santiago for where else she might be. Scratched his chin and offered him that the only other place I could think of was an old cave that she had found the year before, but one that was a good 4-5 hour trek into the jungle. Hector whispered something to the tall one, and the man not it before asking, or rather demanding, that Santiago take them there.

Instead of telling them where they could go, Santiago simply shrugged and told them that he expected them to pay for his continued guide service. His last comment of "Let's get going, I don't like leaving my Elena unattended for too long," sounded like a man bitching about his prized the session, but Mike understood it as an invitation to use the boat for escape. She waited at least 30 minutes to ensure they didn't double back before climbing down and making her way to where she knew he would have tied the boat up.

**********

Mike paused to catch her breath before jumping up to catch ahold of the half broken ladder above her. Frowning at her body's sluggishness, she refused to dwell any more on her mad 'dash' to Bogota. It hadn't been her finest piloting and the Elena might need a touch up after her less than stellar docking, but considering how little she had slept in the last three days, at least she hadn't done irreparable damage.

Pulling herself onto the rickety landing, she carefully made her way to the waist high window and peeked in. After seeing no obvious sign of an occupant, she tested the window, lips twitching when she found it unlatched as expected. They had always laughed at the Garcias' admonishments to lock their windows, knowing they were the only ones foolhardy enough to use the clearly unstable fire escape. With a quick flick of her wrists, she opened the window and crawled through, leaving it open just in case.

The minute she climbed inside the apartment, she was assailed my memories - both good and bad. Jake pressing her to the counter, dishes crashing to the floor as he pumped in and out of her. Riding him with abandon on the butt ugly couch that had lost half its stuffing before they had gotten married. Their ever increasing arguments over Posie and money. His increased agitation when she had broached the subject about kids when she thought she might be pregnant.

Sighing heavily, knowing it was futile to relive the past, Mike marched to their old bedroom and headed straight to the closet, hoping she might find something she could change into. To say she was surprised but the closet's contents when she opened it would be putting it mildly. Her brow furrowed as she took in all her clothes, still hanging neatly if not neater than when she had stormed out that last night.

She turned to look at the simple dresser, wondering if the same would be true there as well. Sure enough, all her former drawers were full of her left behind clothes. Unsure what that meant, other than Jake was most likely living with that bitch now, she grabbed a clean change of clothes and went to the bathroom.

Her feet became rooted the second she walked in as she took a deep breath. 'Fuck,' she thought, hating the way her body responded to lingering smell of his aftershave. Shaking her head, she forced herself to go to the shower, turning the water on full blast before stripping out of her borrowed clothes. Kicking them into the corner out of habit, she stepped in and sighed as the hot water beat down on her tired muscles.

Normally Mike would have lingered in the shower, enjoying the sensuous feeling of the water cascading over her body, but there were way too many memories crowding around her, and she was feeling way too tired and alone to try dealing with them. She quickly washed her hair and scrubbed her skin, and had dried off, redressed and even brushed her hair into a slick ponytail in less time than her previous showers here.

Clad in a simple black v-neck tshirt and a pair of well loved jeans that no longer molded themselves to her backside, she had just slipped back into her hiking boots and was on her way to the kitchen to see what she might be able to raid when she heard someone at the front door. Whoever it was, it was obviously not Jake, however, as they struggled with the lock, clearly not knowing the trick of pulling and then pushing the door to get the key to catch just right.

The delay gave Mike time to position herself behind the door so that she was able to step in behind the person as he slipped inside. Thankfully the person wasn't that much bigger than herself and she was able to easily overpower them with a modified sleeper hold. Once she could tell the person had passed out, she lowered them to the floor and looked at them. She didn't recognize the man, and a quite rifle through his pockets revealed no identification. Was he one of Zelenka's men or a random intruder?

Straightening up, she shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans as she tried to figure out what to do. She felt something crinkle in the right pocket and pulled out a small wad of money. Figuring it might be best to assume the unidentified male was working for Zelenka and that she needed to clear out, she decided to head to the cantina around the corner. It was just big enough that she should be able to blend into the crowd, but not so large that she couldn't see all the entrances.

Deciding it would be prudent to leave the same way she came in, Mike climbed out the window, shutting it behind her, and was halfway down the poor excuse of a fire escape before there was someone else working the lock of her former front door.

IC: Jake Hunter

Jake had taken his boots off hours ago, and had them propped up on Mo's desk as she poured over the pages of the journal turning the age-old pages carefully. He eyed the open bottle of Jack Daniels she had pulled down for her to enjoy as she read. She had placed two glasses down. The empty glass was like the sirens of the Odyssey beckoning him closer to his doom like Odysseus in Homer's poem. The bottle of Aquafina in his hand was not really quenching his thirst in the face of the Kentucky whiskey.

It had been over one year since his last glass of anything of any alcoholic proof, not since that night Mike had found him drunk off his ass in bed with Monique.

He looked at her as she read the journal engrossed and muttering to herself and raising her glass of JD to her lips. Monique was everything Mike was not. Mike was lean and athletic, Mo was soft and curvy-voluptuous was the kind word for it. Mike had been a tomboy ever since before Jake had met her, Monique on the other hand was the very soul of femininity you could imagine.

He was not certain how he felt about Monique anymore. They had both fucked up royally that night-well, more him than her, but she didn't push him off of her either. They had both been so shit-faced, but she was right there with him.

Also she hadn't been exactly shy with putting temptation right in front of him ever since that night he and Mike imploded. It had been little things, fleeting glimpses of legs or down the front of her dress to get a tantalizing glimpse of Mo's copious cleavage. Also constantly putting various forms of booze right in front of an alcoholic...

He should get out before his control crumbles and fucks up with her all over again, but the problem was the relic recovery business really only had two organizations at the top before you started slumming it with the amateur acts. Monique was the very best. She had the contacts with resources and buyers and knowledge of history that made her second to none. She was simply the best there was out there. The only other act was the one that Mike had probably joined since leaving him-no, them, him and Mo's organization that is.

"It seems this Juan Carlos Dela Delorenta, was a monk dedicated to the conversion of the natives to Catholicism," Mo told him, "He joined up with Sir Ferdinando Ruis Capela's expeditions into the jungle searching for gold and really only finding Malaria and hostile natives in the 1540s."

"So why the hell did Lukas Zelenka want it so bad then," Jake said thankful from the distraction from the open bottle of JD.

"Don't know," She told him, "Still reading..."

She quieted down as she continued translating the faded writing on the pages. Getting bored and thirsty for that whiskey he got up and paced around her office.

"Here it is," She said suddenly, "Juan Carlos writes about Sir Capela's quest to find..."

He stopped and looked at her as she read her face changing from one of excitement to one of anger, "What did they find?"

"A city of gold," She glared at him, "...Fucking El Dorado? Seriously!?"

Then she threw the journal at his head. He caught it and looked at her with wide eyes. "What....?"

"Very funny, asshole," She swore.

Jake looked down at the journal in bemusement, "But it was something Irina would kill us for."

"You actually had me going there, you-"

The phone interrupted her as it rang.

Monique picked it up and answered.

The look on her face changed, "Mister Zelenka...I..."

"It's Zelenka," Jake said as Mo nodded and reached down to put it on speaker phone.

"Good evening, Mister Hunter," A voice like thick maple syrup came out with a noticeable Baltic accent. "I believe you have something I very much want."

"Why the fuck do you even care," Jake blared to the arms dealer, "You never cared about treasure before...you're already the richest man in all of Colombia."

"My reasons are my own," Zelenka stated, "I am more concerned with negotiating with you for the journal."

"So you think it's actually authentic," Monique asked.

"I won't answer that," Zelenka replied, "I will offer to purchase it off of your hands."

"How much," Both he and Mo asked together.

"Fifteen thousand U.S. dollars," Came the reply.

"Oh come on," Jake snorted, "Assuming the journal's legit one paving stone of El Dorado would be way more than twice fifteen Grand."

"That is my offer," Zelenka told him, "And I suggest you take it."

"Or what," Jake challenged.

"I am an arms dealer. I can get my hands on any weapon system made the world over," Zelenka stated, "And the Americans aren't the only ones with a drone, and the American president is not the only one who can drop a bomb on someone with one."

Mo gave him an uncertain look, but Jake waved her off, "You do that and the journal will burn."

"Who said it would be on you," He stated, "I have the drone targeting your estranged wife."

"Mike," Jake said in alarm, "What do you want?"

"I want the journal and for you to take my offer, and given the circumstances its a very generous offer."

Jake shook his head, "How do I even know you know where Mike is?"

"He isn't taking my offer," Zelenka said as if speaking to someone not on the phone.

"Can I kill the bitch now," Irina Ortiz asked impatiently.

"Not yet, but arm the missile."

Jake heard an electronic beep and Irina said, "It's armed, just say the word and Indiana Barbie is dead."

"Jake what are we going to do," Monique asked him.

"Yes, Mr. Hunter: what are you going to do," Zelenka said, "I realize you and your wife are currently separated, but the information I have states you haven't officially divorced yet. So, what is the life of Mrs. Hunter worth to you?"

Descending the fire escape with little thought of stealth just speed, Mike nearly missed the last ladder and let out a string of curses as she felt something pull across her back before she could get both hands on the rung. Dammit, she couldn't afford to get hurt now!

Judging the distance to the pavement, she dropped down, landing in a squat in an attempt to save her knees and back. This was all Jake's fault - fucking prick! See if she watched out for his good for nothing ass again. She should be off looking for her next score, not on the run from Zelenka's goons for something she didn't have.

Hearing a noise above her while she was straightening up, Mike looked up towards the apartment. Was there really someone standing in the window looking down or was that just her imagination? Either way, she really had no business standing around in an alley with little options to get away. Despite the continued ache in her back, she pivoted sharply and strode quickly down the narrow alleyway.

She was looking back over her shoulder when she stepped out of the alleyway onto the main sidewalk and ended up colliding with an older woman who was on her way back from the market.

"Lo siento señora," she apologized profusely stooping to gather the items that had fallen out of the other woman's bags. "Eso fue mi culpa!"

Holding the tins out, Mike frowned when the woman gasped and just stared out her, ignoring her outstretched hand and instead looking at horror at her face. What the fuck?! Since when did she scare little old ladies?

"¡Dios mío, niña, tu garganta!!"

Her free hand immediately went to her throat to cover the bruises, realizing that they must look as bad as they felt. Damn, it was going to be hard to blend in if everyone remembered seeing a gringa with colorful bruises on her neck.

"Accidente de coche," she dissembled quickly without the slightest qualm. "Se ve peor de lo que es," she added although the woman looked at her skeptically.

Knowing she needed to keep moving, Mike smiled in apology once more and waggled the tins back and forth to gain the woman's attention, "De nuevo me siento, pero me tengo que ir."

Placing the tins carefully into the bags, she gave a little half wave, unsure how to take her leave without looking like she was running away, but feeling the itchy need to get moving. She pretended not to her the woman's final words of "Tener cuidado de niña" as she continued on her way.

Thinking it would help camouflage the bruises, Mike reached up and pulled her hair out of the pony tail, arranging some of the still damp ends to cover the base of her throat. Even still she felt that every person she passed stared at the area, and it was a struggle to maintain the unconcerned mask on her face.

Strolling down the sidewalk towards the cantina, she tried to maintain a casual gait so as not to attract any unwanted attention, although based on the catcalls she got she was being noticed more than she had hoped. She had just crossed the street at the halfway mark when the urge to look over her shoulder again became too strong.

A quick glance revealed nothing that would indicate why she suddenly felt almost... hunted. She felt the same skitter that had run down her spine as that time she and Jake were being stalked by the jaguar that time they had been retrieving a medallion from the heart of the Columbia jungle. Frowning, she turned back around and continued walking, forcing herself to keep to a slow pace although her shoulders and back were tight as she expected an attack of some sort at any time.

It seemed to take forever to reach the relative safety of the cantina, and Mike sighed in relief when she walked through the door. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darker lightening and when she could finally see, she was surprised by how few people there were inside. With the exception of the bartender and two guys sitting at the bar, there was no one else around so she made her way to the opposite side of the bar.

"Una cervaza porfavor," she requested when the bartender looked her way. "Y un plato de ajiaco?" she added hopefully, wanting something in her system if she were going to drink.

Looking around while waiting for his return, her gaze fell on the pool tables on the other side of the large room and Mike smiled to herself as she recalled the time she had distracted Jake during a crucial shot in their pool challenge. Two ice cubes and a warm mouth and the man lost his ability to think and his shot had been way off, cementing her victory.

Her smile fell as she realized that was one of the last good memories she had of their time together. Shaking her head both literally and figuratively, she watched the other two patrons settle their tab and walk towards the exit while the bartender made his way towards the kitchen.

The next thing Mike knew there was a huge explosion that sent her diving to the floor in a panic, but there wasn't enough time to do more than cower beside the bar as the room shook and debris from the roof started to rain down about her. Thinking she'd be safer under a table, she turned to crawl to the one closest to her when there was another incredibly loud explosion and there was the slightest of pauses before the entire roof seemed to groan and then come rushing at her.

And then there was nothing...

IC: Jake Hunter

"Yes, Mr. Hunter: what are you going to do," Zelenka said, "I realize you and your wife are currently separated, but the information I have states you haven't officially divorced yet. So, what is the life of Mrs. Hunter worth to you?"

Jake froze. He couldn't be serious about threatening Mike, could he? From everything he had heard of him Zelenka wasn't the type to bluff, but he had to be right? Besides he didn't owe Mike anything really, didn't he? Falling in love with her had been the biggest mistake of his life, right?

"You can't get away with shooting missiles in the middle of Bogota," He protested, "Not even you can do that and get away with it. You're bluffing."

"On the contrary," Came Zelenka's reasoned tone over the phone's speaker, "I've convinced the government to blame any attacks on those annoying anti-government rebels out in the jungle to reinforce their next surge to force them out. The same rebels I've been selling guns to for the past couple years but as their revolution has stalled so has their payments to me for delivered merchandise. An example needs to be made of them. So you see, Mr. Hunter, issile at your estranged wife is just good business. However not firing this missile in exchange for the journal is better business, unless you disagree with that assessment."

He looked to Monique for help, but she shook her head helplessly to him.

"Can I kill the stuck-up puta now," Irina asked irritably, "If Romeo doesn't agree to hand over the journal in five seconds I'm pushing the damn button anyway."

"Yes, Mr. Hunter," Zelenka continued, "In five seconds you will either agree to hand over the journal to me or you won't have to worry about getting a good divorce attorney."

Jake grit his teeth. He had to be bluffing, didn't he? "How do I know you're telling the truth? How do I know you even have a drone on Mike?"

"Good question," Came the arms dealer's reply, "Irina, they're close enough to see the fireworks. Fire a warning shot."

Irina growled in exasperation at not getting to light Mike up, but then announced, "Fired. At least it will make the tiny little bitch shit her panties."

A loud boom shook the building and Jake rushed over to the window. He could see a billowing cloud of smoke rise up among the buildings a few streets over. It looked like it was very close to the neighborhood he and Mike had rented an apartment in back before their marriage was ripped wide open.

"Mike." He murmured softly.

"Well Mr. Hunter," Zelenka stated calmly like he hadn't fired a high explosive missile into a crowded city boulevard. The collateral casualties from even that warning shot on Mike had to be huge. "Have we answered your questions adequately? Will you hand over the journal now?"

Jake stared out at the billowing column of smoke in the distance through the window struck numb.

"Yes we will," Monique announced, "Just call off the drone."

"Excelente," Zelenka replied, "You'll find my man on the street outside waiting for you."

He went outside and handed one of Zelenka's thugs the journal saying hotly, "You tell your boss to take this and go straight to hell. In fact if I see him I'll send him there myself."

When the goon drove off he jumped onto the Honda supercub and headed straight for the column of smoke. He had to find out if it was true. He had to find Mike.

She huddled just inside the door to her room with her hands fisted in her lap trying to ignore the angry voices hurtling insult after insult at each other. She was determined not to cry because tears only made Daddy angrier, and Mama's eyes were always leaking these days. Her fingernails cut into her palms, tiny crescents that kept her eyes dry even if her four year old self was bawling on the inside. At some point, the screaming and yelling stopped, but Mama's weeping was almost as bad. Daddy came into her room and scooped her up in his strong arms and gave her a bear hug. He kissed her cheek and told her that he had to go to the store and would be back later and to be a good girl for Mama.

Her bed was really fucking uncomfortable, although she couldn't seem to get herself to turn over and find a better position.

Sprawled on her bed, she tried to ignore the commotion from the living room and pay attention to the math problems in front of her, but it sounded like Mom and Derrik were having yet another one of their "parties". God she was tired of this shit. Ever since the sperm donor had deserted them, Mom had bounced from one loser to the next, like she was afraid to be alone alone, that she needed a man in her life regardless of how bad they actually were. Drunkards, gamblers... and now, addicts. If they had vices, Mom brought them home and eventually embraced their way of life. Some of them were even starting to look at her like she was part of some fucking package deal.

There was a dry hacking sound, and it took some time before she realized it was herself. Her lungs felt full of chalk, and each dry cough tried to dispel it.

She was at school, listening to the policeman break the news about her mother's fatal overdose. He was trying to be gentle, and she didn't have the heart to tell him that she wasn't the least bit surprised. Hell she had seen this coming for years, the only surprise was how long it had actually taken. She was pissed that they were going to put her in foster care though. She'd been taking care of herself for years. You'd think at 15 that they'd just let it happen, but noooooooo they were pulling her from school so that they could get her checked in with a social worker until they could find a foster home.

Pain. It was on the fringes of her consciousness, and she wanted nothing to do with it.

She stood panting outside Sister Elizabeth's room, the hand that was raised to knock trembling almost as much as the rest of her body seemed to be. She had to tell her, to explain what had happened in the kitchen, to ask for forgiveness, but she still wasn't sure exactly what happened. One minute she had been doing dishes, as it was her week to do so at the group home run by the Sisters of Mercy, and the next she had knocked Mr Peters upside the head with the skillet that had been in her hand when he had snuck up behind her, reaching around to place his hand on her chest. She was pretty sure she had only knocked him out, but then again he had been the one who had been working on her batting skills. She dropped her hand and turned away from the door. No, she had to get out of here now, before she got in trouble and removed. She had been bounced between too many foster homes before coming here. The next stop was probably juvie. She'd be better off on her own. She'd borrow some money from the grocery envelope and take off. She'd repay it as soon as she got a job, but she didn't want to talk about what Mr Peters had done nor what he had said. Sister Elizabeth wouldn't understand...

Pressure unlike any she had experienced before seemed to weigh in on her from all sides, and she frowned at her inability to change the tone of her dream, to "change the channel" like she normally did to dreams that bothered her.

The first time she saw him she knew he'd be trouble. Tall, dark and handsome with a body that women wanted to touch and an adventurous streak that cajoled them to join in, she wasn't sure if she wanted to kiss him or kick him, and sparks flew every time the two of them were in the same room.

Mike frowned at the way her dream was turning. Dammit, not again! She was tired of reliving her time with Jake. You'd think her subconscious would be able to work through it - the two of them were like oil and vinegar, fire and water... They were better off apart, so why then did her brain not understand? Why did it insist on replaying every encounter, no matter how trivial? You'd think she had already learned from all the pa-....

Suddenly she became aware that she wasn't sleeping in her bed, and worse... that she couldn't move due to being pinned to the floor by pieces of wood and other material. She tried to do a self assessment but it was too hard to tell with the way shit was piled on top of her.

Hearing voices in the distance, Mike started to call out "¡Ayuda!" and was surprised with how weak it sounded. She tried to move free of the debris, but outside of minute wiggling she didn't make much progress. She continued calling for what seemed like forever, and while the voices grew a little louder, they never seemed to get close enough to hear her. Eventually she gave up trying, her eyes closing as she struggled not to succumb to the blackness that kept trying to claim her.