Dom Wars: Round 6 Read Online Free PDF Page A

Becca. “There could be a trap at our fucking feet. Look carefully.”
    Preacher’s low whistle came from the right and slightly behind, making sure we were okay. Becca replied with a different tone, one I suspected told him to watch for danger. We’d settled on a few whistles for communication, but those two seemed to have an entire set of whistles for casual private chatter in addition to the variety of orders and needs they could pass back and forth.
    Moments later, Preacher faded into view from the left. “The perimeter is secured.” The dude was crazy-good at this creeping around the jungle thing. It was easy to imagine him sneaking up on some enemy and slicing his jugular or spinal cord. Made me glad to be on the same side.
    “We don’t have a lot of time left before dark,” Preacher said. “And personally, I’d rather be a little distance from here.” He glanced to me, as if to ask if I agreed.
    I gave a nod. “That outcrop on the map should be over that way, maybe fifty yards. Should make a decent place to wait out the night.”
    Preacher led the way with Becca and Tara a few steps behind him in single file, while I brought up the rear. At least the vegetation had thinned a bit, making movement less difficult. Fewer leaves also made us easier prey and Preacher slowed to search for danger while I watched our backs. Would be so easy for anyone to pinpoint our location.
    To make matters worse, the generous sized stream to our right rolled over small-to-medium boulders, masking our passage, as well as any noise we would need to hear. Everything in this jungle was a double-edged sword, it seemed.
    Before long, we reached a somewhat-level area perched above the water a few feet, and to the left, a wall of stone rose just higher than our heads. Preacher stopped. “I scouted around here earlier, looking for the flag.” He paused and scanned the area. “We’re out of daylight. I’ll clear the area over there, and mark a few escape routes in case.” He leveled those serious eyes at me. “You help Tara and Becca get shelter and fire.”
    “Not a problem.”
    I kept watchful eye as we searched the area for usable firewood and discussed shelter options with the women. I also kept an eye on Preacher, who moved like a precise machine of endless stamina, hacking at various things to prepare a twenty-foot arc at the base of the cliff, looking like a warrior in an intense battle.
    Fifteen minutes and he motioned us over. We brought our arm-full of firewood and dumped it where he indicated near the stone wall. We all removed our loads with much groaning and moaning, dropping them and ourselves to the ground in an exhausted heap.
    “Becca, I assume you’re still wearing your bra?”
    The odd question drew an immediate what the fuck kind of question is that ?
    Becca smiled. “Of course.” Turning her back, she reached under her shirt, while Tara stared at me in weirded out silence.
    Preacher took the frothy bit of lace and ribbon Becca held out. “That’s it Bane,” he muttered with a grin. “Pay close attention.” The multi-tool from his belt opened with a faint snick , and he used a small blade to cut into the fabric and then changed to pliers. In a matter of seconds, he tossed the bra back to Becca, and held up his prize—two narrow, flexible pieces of gleaming metal lay in his palm.
    Under-wires? Totally as a loss, I waited while he used the pliers to bend and break the metal into four short pieces then he turned the ends into recognizable shapes. Wow. “Fish hooks.”
    He glanced up with a grin. “There’s a still pool right there. We’re having fish for breakfast.”
    I held my enthusiasm back, waiting to see what he would use for fishing line and the other necessary components. For all I knew, he might figure we deserved to stand in the pool all night and dangle those little wires for the fish since me and Tara cost him supplies.
    “Bane, see if you can stir up a few grubs or something we can use