Chapter ThreeCentral American Jungle
HARLIE
“Move,” Viper growled.
With his eyes going steely, he drew his Sig, and dragged me behind him through the wreckage, away from the incoming SAR team.
“What the f**k?”
Why was he going the wrong way? Did he have a concussion? A brain bleed?
“Not the good guys,” he stated in a matter-of-fact tone.
I started adding things up in my head as I ran to keep up, not liking the results. Something taking out the rotor, the bullet wound on my thigh, a helo showing up a lot sooner than anyone could make it from the base. This had to be about whatever secret crap Viper was involved with. And now I was deep in the s**t with him.
Separating from the crash site wouldn’t keep the SAR team from finding us since I’d activated the emergency beacon on my utilit
