Chapter 3
Despite the cloying heat that stuck the black cotton hood to her face, Maya shivered. In the space of minutes, she’d gone from sixty and revved for more to a breath-stealing, stomach-plummeting halt.
When the men wearing jungle-printed camouflage burst into the shower facility, she’d been sure Angel’s buddies were playing a joke on them both. But Angel’s face and body had tightened, skin made ruddy by all that sexual activity had drained quickly of color. Before her brain had caught up with the clues he’d exhibited, her mouth prepared to babble on—until the man in charge had issued his terse, “Silencio!”
Evidently, he suffered from “short-man-syndrome.” His face had hardened, his lips curling into a snarl that sent his handlebar moustache tipping perilously to the side.
The reddening expression on his face when she’d pushed aside the barrel of his gun should have been her first clue, but she’d still been suffering from embarrassment at being caught bare naked. Thank goodness, Angel had been quicker to realize what was happening. The towel had spared her more humiliation.
Angel’s thick thigh rubbed against hers. She wondered if he was trying to reassure her again or needing more space on the bench seat in the back of the SUV. She’d gotten only a glimpse of their vehicle before Little Napoleon tossed a dark cloth hood at Angel and spat a command in Spanish. She’d bitten her lips to keep them from quivering, but allowed him to tug it over her face. If they didn’t want her seeing where they were going, surely that meant they didn’t intend to kill her. But what about Angel? There’d only been one hood.
The nylon rope tying her wrists together had added to her panic. Unable to brace her hands against the side of the vehicle, she was tossed around like a ragdoll at each sharp turn. In addition, the pressure in her ears was easing. She yawned to make them pop, knowing they had to be leaving behind the mountain range, following the road that hugged the river wending its way toward the coast.
Sitting in the back of the vehicle, stomach churning as they sped down a rutted trail at break-neck speed, she couldn’t think past the panic rising inside her chest. She’d seen the hostage movie with Russell Crowe, knew that groups all around the lower Americas practiced kidnap and ransom for profit. But why on earth would they target her? Did they think that because she came from north of the border she had to be rich? What would they do when they realized her bank account fluctuated from three to four digits on any given day depending on how close to payday the date was? The agency didn’t have that kind of cash either. Lace and Susan might pitch in their savings, but short of robbing a bank, she knew there wasn’t much they could do to help.
Again, Angel’s thigh rubbed against hers, and she realized he must have heard her hyperventilating. Thank God, he was there or she really might lose it. Worrying about his situation did a lot to keep her from completely freaking out. What would they do with him once they got to wherever they were going? He was an instructor at a training camp—she couldn’t imagine he was making the big bucks either.
Having him along to translate would be helpful though. She wished she’d nagged her abuela a little harder when she was growing up to teach her Spanish, but her grandmother had emigrated from Cuba in the early sixties and embraced her new home. Spanish had receded even before her mother had come along.
The vehicle whipped around another sharp turn, throwing her against Angel. His arm came down around her shoulder, and she sighed, snuggling close. His fingers stroked her shoulder through her thin tee, and she snuffled quietly, trying not to cry.
He was being so sweet. Trying hard to be brave for her. Of course, he was a merc. Had likely seen the business end of a weapon a time or two, but still... How many times had he been kidnapped?
The vehicle slowed. Conversation flowed in the front seat. Little Man cursed.
Or at least she was pretty sure he had by the short, staccato emphasis of his two words.
The truck ground to a halt. The door beside her was flung open.
“It’s time to get out, Maya,” Angel said in a quiet voice.
She took a deep breath and hoped her legs would actually hold her up when she slid to the ground. A rough hand gripped the rope at her wrist and dragged her along. She stumbled, but quickly righted herself, listening for the sounds of Angel’s voice behind her, for his heavy tread, but she was heading off alone with her captor. A knot grabbed her stomach.
Another door opened, a hand shoved her between her shoulders, and she landed on a dirt floor, grit grinding into the skin of her knees.
Before she could push off the floor, she heard a tin door clang shut. Her body stiffened. She was alone and afraid to remove the hood. Afraid to move in case she wasn’t really alone.
In the distance, she heard voices, one of them Angel’s. By his tone, he didn’t seem particularly alarmed. Then laughter sounded.
For the first time, she began to wonder if Angel’s “courage” wasn’t just a reflection of his ease with these kidnappers. Was he one of them after all? The thought made her dizzy, and she slumped. Had great sex just been a way to keep her attention until the rest of his buddies got into position to take her? Had she been so enamored with his hard body she’d misread him completely? When more laughter followed, she concluded she’d been a fool.
* * *
Darkness vanished with the drone of a generator. “That’s better,” Garcia muttered. “I can’t believe these idiots let the gas run out.”
Angel smirked, relieved Garcia appeared to be taking him into his confidence. “Sounds like they need your constant supervision,” he said, stroking the man’s ego.
Garcia grunted, his gaze narrowing on Angel. “Calderon can use a man who thinks on his feet.”
“I’ve been around,” Angel said easily with a shrug. “As I told you when we first met, I’m a former merc. I know how to handle myself. And I don’t need babysitting.”
“Yanez thinks he can hold onto his power here. His squads intimidate the farmers. We have to break his chokehold. Do you think he will care enough that we have his daughter?”
Angel shrugged. “He has only the one child. A man likes a legacy.”
“But a girl,” Garcia said, his lips twisting in disgust. “She’s useless.”
“She can be bartered. In marriage. Perhaps he brought her from the States because he’s already made plans.”
“If she’s important to some scheme, then he’ll negotiate. Calderon’s not a greedy man. There’s enough coca for everyone.”
“You raided Yanez’s warehouse. He has to be furious over the loss.”
“He can posture all he likes, but that shipment is ours now. We’ve already sold it.”
Angel carefully schooled his expression to reflect only mild interest. “What if he doesn’t care enough about her to negotiate?”
“She’s pretty, no?” Garcia shrugged. “Such a pity.”
Angel nodded, while inside anger boiled in his gut. Garcia had to be acting on Calderon’s behalf, must already have his marching orders. If the trade didn’t come off, Maya was dead. If they figured out she wasn’t Yanez’s daughter first, she’d be dead sooner.
Either way, he didn’t have a choice. He had to get her out of here. Any way he cut things, his mission was blown. “So what’s next? How will you handle the trade?”
Garcia walked to a ruggedized container and flipped the latches. After bending, he pulled out a camera. “It’s time to take her picture. Send it to her papa along with our demands.”
“Do you want my help…to keep her cooperating?”
Garcia nodded, a sinister smile creeping across his face. “Come along then. Only I would prefer a few tears.”
Angel gave him a grim smile. “Leave it to me. I’ll have her weeping buckets.”
Footsteps crunched outside the door, and Maya scooted closer to the wall of the small building she was being kept inside. The door opened and closed quickly, footsteps neared, and she pressed against the wall, curling her body tightly, trying to keep out of reach.
The hood was pulled free, and she blinked. Moonlight filtered through a barred window, and she made out a large, broad shadow. “Angel?” she whispered.
One part of her tried to remember she should be cautious, that she shouldn’t trust him. But she was too relieved to be able to see again, and he was familiar. His hands plucked at the knot at her wrists, and then his large hands chafed hers, restoring circulation.
She moaned.
“Shhh. Soldiers are just outside,” he said softly. “I don’t want them overhearing us.”
Maya studied his expression, wishing she could see his eyes, but shadows deepened around the sockets. “What’s happening?”
“They’re bringing you out to take pictures, maybe a short video.”
Her breath hitched. “For a ransom demand?”
“Yes. But there’s something you need to know first.”
“All right, I’m listening.”
He drew a deep breath, his hands still holding hers. “They think you’re someone else. The daughter of a rival drug lord.”
Maya blinked, her thoughts whirling. “They took me by mistake? Why didn’t you tell them the truth?”
“Because if I had, they would have had no further use for you.”
Several seconds passed before she gleaned his meaning, and then her eyes widened. “But if they take my picture and send it out, they’ll learn right away they’ve made a mistake.”
“You’re quick. That’s a good thing. You’ll need to be smart and strong. And I need you to trust me. Do exactly what I tell you.”
“Why should I?” She waved an arm around the enclosure. “You’re walking around free while I’ve been cooped up in this shed. They didn’t tie you up. Didn’t put a hood over your head. You’re one of them.”
“Things aren’t what they appear. I will help you, but you have to do what I say. You’ve got no other choices here.”
And she knew she really didn’t. Pushing aside her suspicions for now, she asked, “What do you need me to do?”
“I need you to cry.”
“What?” Her head jerked backward.
“Loudly. Real tears. If I have to slap you to get the response, I will.”
She huffed out a breath. “You’d hit me?”
“Not my preference. It’s up to you.”
Raising a hand to hold him off, she cleared her throat. “For the pictures, right?”
“Yeah, baby.”
The way he said it, his voice thick, got to her. His tone said that he really regretted she was in this mess. Like he cared.
His hands cupped her cheeks, fingers smoothing over her lower lip. “Real tears,” he whispered.
The backs of her eyes already felt scratchy, prickly. Not much more was needed to push her into a real weep-fest. “Tell me you love me,” she whispered.
“Why?”
“Because they’re words I’ve never heard from a man before. If I’m going to die, I’d like to hear it just one time.”
His lips tightened, one side of his mouth curving in a sad smile. He leaned close and brushed her lips. “You’re pretty brave.”
“Am not. I’m a quivering mess.” She pressed her lips together and waited, but not too proud to breathe in his essence. Maybe his brand of sweat and bravado would infuse her with some courage.
His gaze locked with hers, and his mouth hovered just above her lips. “I love you, Maya.”
The ragged texture of his voice, the tension in his jaw, told her everything she needed to know. The man wasn’t a killer. He might be messed up with druggies, but he didn’t want her dead.
What started as a strangled laugh blended into a choking sob, and her eyes quickly filled. “That was so damn hot. I wish you’d meant it.”
“I do. For now.”
Her breaths hitched in her thickened throat, and she let the feeling build—the hopeless, lonely feeling that she kept shoved so deep inside her heart she never let it see daylight. “This what you needed?”
“Perfect.” He bent toward her, giving her a hard, quick kiss, then straightened, tugging her to her feet. “Keep them gushing.”
As he opened the door, Maya let loose a hicuppy sob. If all it took to stay alive for the next few minutes was a flow of tears, she’d give them rivers.