by Kat Martin
Derek pulled the dark blue document out of his inside suit coat pocket and turned to look at Bree as she fumbled to get hers out of her purse. She was shaking so badly she nearly dropped it. Derek reached out and caught her wrist, steadying her hand.
“Easy,” he said, and somehow it calmed her. She dropped the passport into the bag, followed by her cell. Derek dropped his in after her, and they settled back in their seats.
“Just think about that fancy dinner I’m going to take you to in Dallas,” Derek whispered. “What’s the best restaurant in town?”
He was doing his best to distract her. She could have kissed him for it. She managed to smile. “The Mansion at Turtle Creek is one of my favorites.”
Derek just shook his head. “Nope. Got to be somewhere special. Somewhere you’d like to go but have never been.”
She’d been to every first-class restaurant in Dallas. But there was a place she’d always wanted to go. No one would ever think of taking her there, and she didn’t have the courage to go by herself.
“Actually, there is a place I’ve been wanting to go for a while. How about taking me to the Sagebrush Saloon? Food is simple, but it’s supposed to be good. And they have a country-western band there on Friday nights. We could have dinner and go dancing.” She cocked an eyebrow. “That is, if you know how to two-step.” The words came out as a challenge. They were only playing a game. It would probably never happen.
“You like country music?” he asked. There was something in his face she couldn’t read, as if he were looking into the past.
“You don’t like country-western?”
He glanced away. “I used to.”
“Did you dance?”
He didn’t deny it, just shook his head. “It was a long time ago.”
Bree smiled. “Dancing’s like riding a bicycle. Once you know how, you never forget.”
His eyes, a warm golden brown, found hers. She recognized the interest there. “I wouldn’t have taken you for the country music type,” he said.
Neither would anyone else. “Maybe that’s why I like it.”
His lips stretched into a reluctant smile. The idea of kissing him was definitely appealing.
“Okay, then,” he said. “The Sagebrush Saloon it is. I’ve got a friend who met his wife there. They still go dancing once in a while.”
“All right, it’s a date.” They just had to stay alive in order to make it happen.
Derek smiled, but the worry in those golden-brown eyes said he knew exactly what she was thinking.
Time dragged on. After the first hour on the ground, the gunman threatened to punish anyone caught talking. Maybe he thought the passengers might hatch a rebellion, but Bree didn’t think that was going to happen.
Then the baby started sniffling and began to cry again. When Carmen’s attention failed to quiet her, Bree leaned over, took the baby in her arms and settled back in her seat. A few softly crooned words and some gentle rocking and little Sophie quieted again.
“Sooner or later, she’s going to get hungry,” Carmen said worriedly. “She won’t stop crying until she’s fed, and there’s no way I can warm a bottle for her in here. I thought we’d be home by now.”
If Sophie started crying, there was no way to know what the gunman would do. It was like a time bomb ticking down to an explosion.
Hours slipped past. The sleeping baby went back into her mother’s arms. The gunman allowed the passengers to use the bathroom one at a time. Bree wondered how long it would be before the toilets were full and it began to smell bad in the cabin.
The air-conditioning had been turned down to conserve power, so cool air barely came in. Night had fallen, which helped the temperature inside, but the next day would be brutal. Derek had stripped off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, showing tanned, muscular forearms. He had taken off his tie long ago and unbuttoned his shirt collar.
As time crawled past, he had said only a few words, but she could feel his solid presence. Bree was grateful for it. She glanced out the window, into the darkness outside. With the cabin lights off, people began to fall asleep.
“Get some rest if you can,” Derek said. “No way to know what’s going to happen tomorrow. You’ll handle it better if you’re rested.”
Derek put his seat back a little and closed his eyes. She had a feeling he was used to sleeping just about anywhere. Bree thought she’d be too worried to sleep, but as the hours wore on, fatigue and hunger began to take their toll, and eventually she nodded off.
* * *
THE SUN WAS coming up when Bree opened her eyes. She saw that Derek was awake, looking alert and far too appealing, while her mouth was dry and gritty and her makeup was smudged. Derek glanced toward the aisle, and his features tightened. Bree followed his gaze and saw the hollow-cheeked hijacker striding toward them. Her pulse took a frightened leap.
The man stopped right next to Derek’s aisle seat, but his gaze was locked on Bree. “You will come with me.”
Nausea rolled in her stomach, and for an instant she thought she might throw up. They had found her.
“What do you want with her?” Derek asked. “You’ve got a plane full of hostages. Leave her here. She’s helping take care of the baby.” Who was overdue to start crying any minute.
Cold black eyes locked on Derek’s face. “You would be wise to mind your own business, gringo.” He looked past Derek to Bree. “You heard what I said. Do not make trouble or others will suffer.”
He raised his rifle, pointed it toward Carmen and the baby, but continued to stare Bree down. “You will come with me. Now.”
Bree was shaking as she rose from her seat. She looked at Carmen’s stricken face and baby Sophie’s sleepy smile. Whatever happened, she had no choice but to follow the gunman’s orders. She turned sideways and started to ease past Derek, but he rose from his seat, blocking her way.
“If she goes, I go with her,” he said, oblivious, it seemed, to the gun barrel aimed at his chest. “That’s the deal. She’ll do what you want, but I go with her.”
“Derek...” His name came out in a frightened whisper.
“Who are you?” the gunman asked in his heavily accented Spanish.
“I’m Derek Stiles. I’m her fiancé. Where she goes, I go.”
Oh God, Bree thought. “You don’t have to do this,” she said softly, gathering a bit of courage as she hoisted the strap of her purse over her shoulder. She wasn’t Derek’s problem. He barely knew her. He didn’t even know her real name.
Derek didn’t move.
The gunman’s gaze shifted back and forth between them as he tried to make a decision. Then he grabbed Derek’s shoulder and hauled him into the aisle, shoved the barrel of the rifle into his back. “Si, perhaps it is good you come along. You might prove to be useful.”
The hijacker turned to Bree. “You will come with your man.” A wolfish grin split his face. “Or I will kill him.”
CHAPTER THREE
AS THEY CROSSED the tarmac, Derek reached for Bree’s hand and pulled her up beside him. The hijacker walked behind them, his rifle pointed at Derek’s back. Three other men appeared at the edge of the runway to join them, grim-faced, dark-skinned men with greasy hair and unkempt beards. They were using wireless radios to communicate, clearly in touch with each other and the a-holes on the plane.
Up ahead, a row of metal buildings clustered together on one side of the runway, which was dotted with potholes and patches of bare earth where the asphalt had been worn away. Weeds in search of sunlight grew up through cracks in the pavement. The field was clearly abandoned, dense jungle growing along both sides of the runway, spilling onto the tarmac. High-peaked, jungle-covered mountains rose in the distance, clouds drifting over the crests.
From the looks of the Quonset hut–style buildings, Derek figured the airstrip might have been used by the military at on
e time. It was abandoned now, and he was fairly certain civilization was a long way away.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” Bree said to him softly as they neared one of the metal structures, apparently their destination. “You barely know me.”
He shrugged. “We’re getting married. What choice did I have?”
That made her smile. Derek thought maybe that alone was worth it. He still hadn’t figured out exactly why he’d done it. It was stupid—no doubt about that. But then he thought of the soft look in Bree’s eyes as she was holding Carmen’s baby. Given the same choice, he would do it again.
Derek surveyed the dense, endless green landscape. He had no idea where they were, but he’d been involved in a number of business deals in Latin America. He’d read the crime rate in Honduras had fallen in the last few years, but violence and death were still everyday occurrences.
From the looks of the hard men and women involved in the hijacking, they wouldn’t hesitate to carry out their threats.
He glanced at Bree, who still held onto his hand. He didn’t know why they had singled her out, but he had a feeling she wasn’t completely surprised. That should have made him wary, but somehow it only made him feel more protective.
The hijacker marched them off the tarmac, across a slab of concrete surrounded by a cluster of dilapidated corrugated buildings. A rusty door opened, and a man stepped out to greet them.
“Buenos tardes, señor y señorita.” He was tall and whiplash lean, with long-fingered, graceful hands. “Welcome to Honduras.”
Bree said nothing, just clung to Derek’s hand.
“Who are you?” Derek asked. “What do you want?”
“We are Los Defensores de los Naturaleza. Defenders of nature. We are fighting to save our beloved country from people like you.” His black gaze ran over Derek’s expensive suit and shiny black Ferragamo shoes. “It is big corporations and wealthy land owners who are trying to destroy it.”
He knew about the environmental movement in Honduras. One of its most prominent leaders, a woman named Berta Flores, had been assassinated a few years back for her activism against a hydroelectric plant. The hijackers, however, with their leathery skin and knotted hands, looked more like rebels or mercenaries than activists.
But maybe he was wrong.
“I am General Alonso de Leon Batista. From now on, you will be dealing with me.” Batista looked different from the others—well dressed in tailored black slacks and a spotless white short-sleeved shirt. When his mouth curved beneath his thin black mustache, he looked almost elegant.
“Put them in the women’s quarters,” Batista said.
One of the hijackers shoved Derek from behind, and he stumbled forward. He straightened and kept walking, Breanna close beside him. Their footsteps echoed as the gunman marched them down an empty, cement-floored corridor into a room with a row of six narrow beds. A wooden nightstand sat between two bunks, which were covered by thin gray wool blankets. A couple of wooden benches and a battered plank table rested along the wall, a basin and pitcher on top.
Maybe the room had been occupied by female personnel, but it had clearly been out of use for years. Derek figured the lone female hijacker was staying with the men.
“El baño está allí.” The bathroom is there, the gunman said, gesturing toward a door at the end of the chamber next to a boarded-up window. He was heavyset and unshaven, wearing a red bandanna around his thick neck. “El agua esta en la jarra.” Water is in the pitcher.
Derek spoke Spanish. It was a necessity during negotiations in foreign countries. It was one of the reasons he’d been hired. He could tell Breanna also understood, but neither of them replied. Better to keep them guessing.
“Comprende?” the gunman asked.
Still no reply. The gunman stepped into Derek’s space. “I think you understand me very well, eh, gringo? Do not play games with Cisco, or you will be sorry.”
Derek clamped down on his temper. Calm control worked better in a situation like this. “I understand what you said,” he finally conceded, replying in Spanish.
“Bueno. You will stay here until El Defensor sends for you.” It meant the Defender. Derek doubted defending the environment was the leader’s only motive. With so much manpower, money and planning expended, it was likely more self-serving.
Cisco strolled into the corridor, closed and locked the door. Footfalls sounded as the guard walked away. When Derek turned toward Breanna, she stepped into his arms.
“It’s okay,” he said, drawing her closer. “Everything’s going to be all right.” He shouldn’t have noticed how good she felt pressed against him, how well they fit together, but he did. “We just need to stay calm till help arrives.”
She took a step back and looked up at him. “You shouldn’t have done it. You should have stayed on the plane.”
“Too late to worry about that now.” Derek started moving, making a cursory check of their surroundings, examining the walls, checking under the beds, looking into the bathroom. He climbed up onto the wooden table and pushed up one of the acoustic ceiling tiles to look at the space between the tiles and the roof. He jumped down from the table and brushed the dust off his slacks.
“I’ll take a closer look, see what we might be able to use. But I don’t think the place is bugged.”
“Why did you do it?” Bree asked. “You don’t know anything about me. You don’t even know my real name.”
A trickle of unease slipped through him. He’d known something was off about her. “So you’re not Breanna Winters?”
“No.”
“Well, then, considering the circumstances, I think you better tell me who you are.”
She pressed her lips together. Even with her lipstick gone, they were a pretty shade of pink, and Derek felt an unexpected surge of arousal. Though one look at their surroundings was enough to tamp it down.
“My real name is Breanna Wingate. But I don’t use my family name. I haven’t for more than five years.”
“Wingate,” he repeated. “The only Wingate of any consequence I can think of is Jonathan Wingate, the multibillionaire software engineer.”
“He’s my dad.”
And with those words, it all fell together. “So you’re the target of the hijacking?”
“I’m not sure. That’s the funny part—I don’t really think they were after me. I was supposed to be on a flight next week from Dallas, but I changed my mind at the last minute and decided to leave earlier, fly directly out of Houston. I think maybe they just saw my passport and put two and two together.”
“So there’s a chance you were just a bonus. They collected everyone’s passport, or at least those of us flying business or first-class. They checked the names to see who might be useful, and your name popped.”
“I think that’s a possibility.”
“Even if you’re right and it was just wrong place, wrong time, it doesn’t alter the circumstances.”
“I know.”
“I don’t want to scare you, but in a situation like this, even if they ransom you and your dad agrees to pay, they might not let you go.”
Bree’s chin angled up. “Us,” she corrected. “They might not let us go. Because whatever happens, you risked your life for me, and I’m not leaving here without you.”
* * *
BREE LOOKED INTO Derek’s golden eyes and thought she caught a hint of approval. But he was a difficult man to read, so she couldn’t be sure. Oddly, now that the worst had happened, she felt stronger, less afraid. Resigned to the situation, she was ready to face whatever lay ahead.
And Derek was with her. That was an unexpected bonus.
“Do you think there’s a guard outside our door?” she asked.
Derek walked over and tried the knob, found the door securely bolted. “The lock is solid, but I think the guard’s gone. I’m a guy in a bu
siness suit and you’re a billionaire’s daughter. I don’t think they see us as much of a threat. Which actually works in our favor.”
“How do you mean?”
“They’re underestimating us. They think we’ll just sit back and do whatever they say.”
Exactly what Breanna planned to do. “My father will pay whatever they ask. He and my mother love me. You don’t have to worry about that. We’re still very close. I just didn’t want to live my life in a fishbowl and back then, that was the way it was.”
“I can understand that. Your dad’s a world-renowned figure, which put you in the spotlight. I’ve always been on my own. It’s easy to imagine how trapped you felt.”
“Once I got out of college, I realized the life my parents wanted for me wasn’t what I wanted. I craved independence. I wanted to explore the world, find my own place in it.”
“Good for you,” Derek said.
She walked over to the boarded-up window, saw nothing but jungle beyond. “I traveled for a while. I had a trust fund, which gave me tremendous freedom, but I’ve never been the kind of person to sit around and do nothing. So I started a nonprofit, and it felt really good to do something for other people. From there the organization expanded into a number of charities under one umbrella.”
“Including the orphanage in the village outside San Salvador?”
“That’s right.”
Derek came over and stood beside her, peered through the cracks in the boards to see what she had seen—an endless sea of green that was more daunting than a thousand miles of ocean.
He turned to survey their barren quarters, and his mouth curved faintly. “At least we’ve got indoor plumbing.”
Bree almost smiled. “Always a plus.”
“There’s not much we can do except wait and see how this plays out. Once we know the game plan, we can make some decisions.”
She frowned. “Decisions? What sort of decisions? There’s a small army out there, Derek. They have automatic weapons, and I would guess they’re willing to kill to get what they want. We just have to wait till my dad pays the money and they let us go.”