Wyatt had never been in a jungle before, and while he'd dipped low enough to flirt with the mighty Mississippi, the closest thing the states had to jungle - those deep, dark swamps of the south - remained nothing but hearsay and story to him.

But for all that, for the sticky heat, the drenching rains and the clouds of blood thirsty insects, he felt strangely at home. He was part of a posse again, tracking the wanted man, his skills once again, finally, of use.

The landscape might have been alien, but the purpose wasn't. He knew what he was doing, where he stood again....

If only for the moment.

Tracking through the trees, he moved quietly, but steadily. If he found anything that so much as hinted at Aunamee's presence, he'd turn back to regroup with Max.

A promise was a promise.