Dana Marton – Bridal Op (страница 5)

“We’ll resume climbing at first light,” he said.

“I’ll be ready.” She pulled a straight face, pretending hard that she wasn’t petrified.

He found it fascinating to watch how she went ahead in the face of any fearsome task brought on by their mission so far. First there would be uncertainty and doubt in her eyes, then she would set those sexy lips into a firm line and seem to draw from somewhere deep within the courage necessary, pulling herself straight and unfailingly rising to the occasion.

Her sheer determination was a like a force field around her. With her normally soft, fawn-colored eyes turned hard as they were now, if she stood at the rim of their ledge, spread her arms and said that by God she was flying to the top, he would believe her.

She would conquer the rest of the cliff in the morning, he would bet his new boat on it. When the time came to climb, she would call forth the necessary strength. But for now, with a long uncomfortable night ahead of them, she looked like she could use some encouragement, a reminder of how close they were to their goal.

“If all goes well we should be at the army base by noon. We’ll do some recon, pinpoint Sonya’s exact location and move in as soon as it’s dark again,” he said, and gained heart from the thought as well.

In twenty-four hours, Sonya Botero would be safe.

She’d been nice the few times they’d met socially, long before she’d become a client at Weddings Your Way. They’d flirted once, briefly, at a party, brought together by their common Laderan heritage. Then she’d fallen for Juan DeLeon, one of Ladera’s more prominent politicians. The Laderan community in Miami was all abuzz with the news.

He felt responsible for her. Not only because he’d known her before, but because, as head of security for Weddings Your Way, securing her wedding would have been his responsibility. She was kidnapped right in front of his building, under his nose. It galled him.

He hated any man who would harm a defenseless woman, use her as a pawn. He made it his personal mission to bring Sonya back and keep his partner safe in the process. Not to mention keep his hands off Isabelle. Close proximity and overpowering temptation notwithstanding.

SONYA BOTERO SHIFTED as much as her ropes let her, allowing circulation to return to her left leg, which felt as if a thousand ants were crawling all over it. She held her gaze on the leg to keep herself assured the real army of ants, the ones that had marched right through her prison hut a few days ago, had gone. She saw them now only in her repeating nightmares and would continue to see them there for a long time to come. If she lived.

Don’t give up. Don’t give up. Don’t give up.

At least her feet had healed. She clamped on to the one positive thing she could think of. The jute sandals she’d been given at the beginning had rubbed her skin raw, and she’d been worried about developing some infection. But now that she hadn’t been allowed outside for days, her wounds had had a chance to scab over and start to mend.

She thought of Juan and focused on that. Juan would come for her, Juan and her father—both men formidable in their own right.

Just a little longer. Almost over.

Trouble was, she’d been telling herself the same thing for about five weeks now, believing it a little less each day.

She couldn’t give up. If she lost faith…

But faith was hard to keep when she was hurt and hungry, when her life was threatened daily. At the beginning she’d got regular meals and trips to a nearby waterfall in the evenings to clean up. Although at the time she’d thought of her captivity as unbearable, now she wished for those times back. She hadn’t eaten in two days, hadn’t bathed in four.

Were they growing bored with their task of guarding her? Or had something gone wrong with Miami? She’d overheard enough to know that she was being held for ransom. Where was it?

It’d be here. Soon. Juan and her father would see to it. She had to keep believing that.

Both men had lost so much already: her father losing her twin sister to leukemia at the age of six, Juan losing his unborn son to drugs and his ex-wife to insanity. She hated the thought that now they had to worry about her.

From where she was, she could see the small fire and the men who gathered around it, drinking, one of them shoving a needle into his arm deep in the shadows. She still thought of escape now and then but no longer had the strength to attempt it.

The money is coming.

The money is coming.

The money is coming.

She repeated that over and over in her head. She knew better than to even whisper when she wasn’t asked.

Chapter Two

Rafe rubbed his elbow, sore from wielding the machete all morning. “You’re too close,” he said, then paused. Had to be the first time he’d ever said that to a beautiful woman. Man, times were changing.

Isabelle dropped back.

Better. They had to keep a healthy distance between them so that if they were discovered they wouldn’t both be taken out by the same spray of bullets. Drug routes crisscrossed the mountains; marijuana plantations were fairly common; poppy fields bloomed in out-of-the-way clearings. And with those came the men who guarded them, the drug lords’ private armies.

Laderan army base notwithstanding, the locals knew who owned these parts and respected the real power, the men on whom their lives depended.

“What’s that noise?”

Rafe stopped to listen. “Trucks. We must be getting close to the main road.”

Most roads in the area were little more than footpaths that connected the mountain villages. The only paved highway for hundreds of miles led to the army base that guarded the north corner of the country. They’d been hearing planes overhead more frequently for the past few hours but couldn’t see any from the thick canopy above.

He moved forward, toward the sound of the trucks, his feet sinking with every step into the layers of leaf mold underfoot. Walking on a solid surface would have been nice, but even when they found the road they would have to keep in the cover of the trees. At least he’d be able to stop navigating by his GPS unit and simply go by sight at that point.

The sound of motors faded, but he kept going forward. In another five minutes, he could see more light filter through the trees ahead. “There.”

He signaled to Isabelle to keep down as they crept to the edge of the woods. Damn. He scanned the other side of the road, nothing but stumps and low brush for as far as he could see.

“Not good,” he said when she came up next to him. “Loggers.”

“Do we have to cross?”

“We don’t have to, but I wouldn’t have minded having options. I don’t like it. If they’re logging this far up the mountain now…”

“They might have cleared woods closer to the base, too,” she finished the sentence for him.

“Right. I’d prefer not having to come out into the open.” He glanced at her. She looked okay although she’d been more quiet than usual that morning—probably the side effect of the high elevation. The thin air was bothering him, too, and he’d grown up with it. “Want to stop and rest for a while?”

“Not yet. I can walk a little longer.” She gave him a small smile. “I hate to stop knowing Sonya is out there, suffering who knows what.” She was backing away already, a few yards into the woods where they could walk without having to worry about being seen from the road.

“If anything happens to us, Sonya is not going to be saved at all. It’s okay to take a break,” he reminded her. They had precious little time left, not enough for Rachel Brennan, head of Miami Confidential, or anyone else to come up with a backup plan. They had to succeed and for that they had to stay in good shape and not let themselves get too run-down.

She drew in a good lungful of air and straightened her back, visibly gathering strength. “We’ll be fine.” Her fawn-colored eyes glinted with determination.

“Okay,” he said, just as eager to get going. “We’ll eat as we go.”

He moved forward, watchful and alert to any dangers ahead. They’d been lucky so far with the wildlife, but surprises abounded in the jungle. Speaking of which, the forest seemed awfully quiet all of a sudden.

He stopped again.

“What’s going on?” she asked from behind him.

“Listen.” He strained his ears. Was a group of smugglers moving through the woods nearby? Maybe a predator?

He pulled his gun, Isabelle following his example.

And then he felt it, a small trembling that could easily have come from a caravan of military vehicles passing on the road, except for the lack of motor noise.

“Watch out for falling trees!” he shouted as the ground shook harder now.

She was looking at him wide-eyed, her knees bent as she tried to balance. Insects rained from the trees and she shrieked. He was over there in two leaps, covering her with his body as she crouched down.

“It’s okay. Hang on. Just an earthquake.” He had to continue shouting now to be heard over the groaning trees, large branches splitting and smashing to the ground around them.

Then it all stopped just as fast as it had begun.

“Just an earthquake?” she asked weakly, once the ground stopped moving.