Navy SEAL Noel. Liz Johnson

shook her head, her long, dark ponytail swishing over her shoulders. “The effects of the Morsyni toxin are sometimes called botulism two point oh.”

      “So if it’s released, it’ll kill everyone in the area.”

      “An ugly, painful death.” She finally glanced away, dropping her gaze to her clasped hands. “For all of us.”

      He sucked in the suddenly thick air. It had been humid all morning, but now he felt as if he was trying to catch a deep breath at the bottom of a pool.

      The two men at the door grew louder, an argument erupting between them about who was going to go get lunch first. Sergio, the one who had been shoving Will around the compound, yanked on the door handle and marched past Manuel, who stuck his boot out, tripping his comrade. Manuel received a hard knock on the leg in retaliation.

      As the men tussled, Will slowly stepped in front of Jess, blocking their view of her. She pressed a palm to his arm and whispered against his back, “What’s going on?”

      Over his shoulder he replied in an equally low tone, “They’re both hungry. Best to look busy and stay out of their line of sight. One of them is going to lose this fight, and he won’t be happy about it.”

      Jess nodded, pulling on a pair of rubber gloves and picking up metal tongs. Her movements were stilted and jerky, but productive, as she emptied and cleaned the beaker she’d been boiling water in.

      While she worked and the guards continued to argue, Will slipped silently along the back wall, his hands roaming over the uneven cinder blocks. Just to the left of the supply cabinet, a dingy, yellowed window overlooked the security wall, sparks of sunlight reflecting off of the jagged edges of green and brown glass standing sentry along its top.

      With a quick survey around the edges of the window, he confirmed that despite its age and color, it appeared solid. Unfortunately, he couldn’t jump onto the counter to get a closer look. At least not right that moment.

      The only other window in the room was a rectangle even with the top of the door on the front wall. It contained a sputtering air conditioner, which worked about as well as a drop of water fighting a wildfire. It couldn’t possibly keep up with the jungle’s humidity, but at least the limited natural light in the building also blocked most of the force of the sun.

      The window along the back wall was the only one that could possibly be useful for an escape. Or a break-in. But given the containment storage it required, most likely the toxin was going to have to come with them through the rusty metal door or be left behind.

      And Jess had made it clear that the latter wasn’t an option.

      Manuel and Sergio’s row reached its apex, and Will glanced at Jess, whose eyes were wide in her pale face. Checking to make sure that the guards were still not paying attention, he sidled up to her, rolling up his white shirtsleeves before slipping one of the black aprons off the hook on the wall, pulling it over his head and tying it into place on top of his wrinkled button-up.

      “They’ve moved on from lunch. Now they’re arguing about which one will have the more important role in something that’s happening in a week.”

      “Seriously?” The tension that wrinkled her forehead grew tighter. “What’s going to happen?”

      He began to answer, but before he could speak the commotion suddenly and abruptly ceased, leaving the air thick with only the choked coughs coming from the air-conditioning unit. Will slammed his mouth closed and slipped Jess behind him as a third man joined the guards. Manuel sucked in his stomach and pushed out his chest, his arms holding his M6 at a perfect forty-five degree angle. Sergio snapped to attention, too—though his presentation wasn’t quite as smooth.

      The stranger was a short man with slicked-back hair and a long mustache that curled over his upper lip. He clasped his hands behind his back, his eyes sweeping over the men, who clearly reported to him.

      “El Jefe,” Manuel said.

      The boss. This man was either the kingpin or someone important enough to speak in the cartel leader’s stead.

      Sergio didn’t address El Jefe, but his eyes dropped to the rough cement floor, his grip on his weapon tightening until his fingers turned white. The boss clearly commanded respect, and he didn’t bother with more than a glance in Will and Jess’s direction.

      “Cuando va a estar listo?” The mustache flipped toward the back of the lab, toward them.

      Manuel mumbled something that Will couldn’t make out, and a fist tightened at the back of his shirt as Jess twisted the fabric and leaned into him. She didn’t have to ask her question for him to know that she wanted him to translate. But she was going to have to wait. He couldn’t afford to reveal that he understood everything they were saying.

      Not yet, anyway.

      The boss growled in response to Manuel’s answer, pressing fingers like round sausages into his hips at his belt. Then he let loose a stream of curses intermingled with enough information to set Will’s heart beating faster than a chopper blade. “Siete días. Entiendes?”

      Then he stomped away, leaving Sergio and Manuel to return to their bitter words, angry glares and childish fighting.

      “What’s going on?”

      Will felt more than heard Jess’s words, and turned back to her, his arms and legs already beginning to tingle with pent-up energy.

      “That man is in charge while Juan Carlos, the kingpin, is away. But Juan Carlos is coming back, and when he does, they’re going to release the toxin at a party at a nearby cartel.”

      Jess’s eyes grew wide again, and she gasped, biting down on the sound to keep from alerting their guards. “When will he be here?”

      “Seven days.” Will leaned down until they were eye to eye, and whispered, “We—and the toxin—have to be out of here in six.”