Out of Plans (The Mercenaries #2) by Stylo Fantome Page A

and headed to a corner in the back.
    “Okay. We're free and clear of immediate danger. Damiano is miles behind us, will probably never find us out here. Talk to me,” Marc stated as he stomped up to join her.
    Lily ignored him and sat in a fold out chair. She grabbed a bottle of water out of a cooler and chugged its content. Then she began digging around in a duffle bag at her feet, pulling out different pieces of clothing. A shower would've been nice, but she didn't have time. She wanted to have everything she needed packed up and ready to go in twenty minutes.
    “Take what you need,” she finally started speaking after about five minutes of silence. “There's a lot of water in the cooler, maybe some snacks. I don't have any clothes that will work for you, but there's extra rain gear and sleeping bags.”
    “Are you dismissing me?”
    “I'm telling you to take what you need,” she repeated herself, then stood up and pulled on a pair of running pants.
    “We need to work some shit out here, Lily. We haven't seen each other in six months. We can't just wind up at the same party, kiss the way we did, get kidnapped, escape, and wind up here, and not fucking say anything,” he pointed out. She shrugged and pushed past him, moving to pull out a fresh tank top from another bag.
    “There's nothing to say, De Sant.”
    “ My name is Marc. ”
    “ Your name is irrelevant . What do you want me to say? I'm sorry we were at the same party because it just screwed everything up. The kiss was just a means to an end. Sorry we got kidnapped, thanks for helping us escape, and that's that,” her voice had lowered to a grumble. She got her tank top in place and made her way back out into the clearing.
    “Means to an end, my ass, and that's not that. Talk to me, Lily. What are you doing here?” Marc demanded.
    She ignored him and walked to the perimeter of the clearing. There was a crude alarm set in place – yarn, tied around simple stakes that had been shoved into the ground. Every couple feet, a tin can had been tied to the yarn, creating a ruckus when anyone bumped into it. With the dense foliage that surrounded them, the contraption was actually pretty hard to see.
    When she came to a can of peas with a jolly looking giant on the label, she stepped over the line and headed into the jungle. After one hundred steps, she turned right. Another one hundred steps, and she turned left again. Two hundred steps and she came to a tree that had a notch cut into its trunk. At the base sat a rock. Not unusual to the casual observer, but Lily recognized its almost conical point, its wide base. She had placed it there over a week ago. She got down on her knees and shoved it out of the way before digging her hands into the dirt.
    “This is what I came back here for,” she called out, knowing Marc was standing right behind her. She pulled a large pack out of the soil, brushing the dirt off of it as it came free.
    “Why'd you bury it?” he asked.
    “Because. If I was caught, and if they somehow found this place, I didn't want them to find this, ” she explained, opening the zipper and delving into the bag. A small, nylon backpack laid inside it and she pulled it out. She double checked its contents, made sure everything was still in place, and then she put it on.
    “You didn't want Damiano's personal army to find your backpack?” Marc snorted. She glared as she turned around and she threw the larger, now empty, pack at his chest. He managed to catch it.
    “ Your backpack. And no, I didn't,” was all she said in response.
    She watched as recognition dawned across Marc's face. She'd had the pack for a while – a large bag, with one strap that was made to go diagonal across a chest. A large chest. The bag had been made for a man, but she'd carried it with her for almost six months. A long time. She hated it, but she had to admit she felt a little sad letting it go.
    It was my last piece of him. He'll take it and he'll leave and I'll