The door closed. The lock clicked. Just enough light peeked through the slats of the window to illuminate her prison, and her stomach dropped. The entire floor was dirt. A bucket sat in one corner. And she didn’t have to be the class genius to know what purpose it served. A neat stack sat in the opposite corner—a folded blanket and a small, dingy pillow.
With nothing else to fill her time, she unfolded the blanket, spreading it on the ground between her and the dirt. The meager pillow, she clutched to her chest. Sitting alone in the dark, all the worst scenarios ran through her mind, until real tears tracked endlessly down her cheeks.
Was Angel really a good guy or had he told her he’d get her out just to keep her cooperative? She didn’t doubt for a moment he could pull off an escape, given his training, but would he risk himself for her?
Then she thought about the very real possibility the man with the mustache might kill her when he discovered she wasn’t some drug lord’s daughter. Something told her he’d be livid the moment her identity was revealed, and would likely take great satisfaction in killing her in some heinous fashion. Those scenarios left her nauseous and so panicky she couldn’t breathe. Could someone die of a panic attack?
Then she thought about those she’d leave behind. The list of people who would care was pitifully small. Mr. Batson at the bank—because he’d have to redo the loan paperwork—her two best friends and partners. Would they ever know what happened to her? The thought of the hell they’d go through, possibly blaming themselves for her death because of their joint decision to change the model of their travel agency, caused her worry, too. She didn’t want them blaming themselves. Although she did hope they’d grieve for a little while. It would be nice to have someone shed a tear for her passing.
The lights blinked, blinked again, then slowly went out altogether. Maya shrank toward the floor. Pitch darkness was so much scarier than the shadow play. Every sound was amplified.
A roar sounded in the camp, and she jumped. The shout was followed by a streak of Spanish so filled with curse words she understood every single one.
Maya’s heart thundered inside her chest. Either Little Man had just figured out he’d nabbed the wrong girl, or…
The door scratched open. “Maya...” came an urgent whisper.
Not daring to say a word, she pushed to her feet and edged around the walls of the shack toward the door. Reaching out a tentative hand, her palm met solid muscle.
Angel’s hand slid down her arm and clutched hers, then he jerked her through the door. “Baby, run.”
With clouds blocking the moonlight, she couldn’t see a thing. Didn’t know how he could, but he pulled her along, his steps sure. She took confidence in that and widened her stride as she sped along beside him.
“No talking, hear?”
No problems with that order. They were moving so quickly and she was so scared, she couldn’t catch her breath. They must have left the camp though, because the sounds of scuffling feet and shouting were more muffled.
The occasional vine brushed her shoulder and her face. The clouds moved; moonlight filtered through the canopy above them, but still, not enough light penetrated to help her get any bearings. Although how that would have helped she didn’t know because she didn’t have a clue where she’d been taken.
And then they were standing on a slight rise, above a clearing where a wood-framed building stood with a chimney belching smoke that smelled like kerosene and burned plastic. Beside the building were two trucks. One was parked beside a large barrel with a hose leading from the barrel into the truck’s gas tank, likely diesel fuel.
“Oh thank God,” she whispered. “We can call for help.”
“Shit,” Angel said beside her. “They’re making cocaine. It’s the last place we can stop. Keep moving.” He pulled her hand again, and off they went, back into the darkness of the jungle.
Beneath her, the ground dipped. So, they were moving downhill. Ahead she heard the trickle of water. The river perhaps? She wondered if there were piranha in the water, but thought maybe they were only in the Amazon. Even piranha weren’t as scary as what she faced back at the camp, so she didn’t slow her steps, although running downhill in the dark made her heart race faster and she was falling behind him.
Angel drew to a sudden halt.
She gasped as she ran into his back, but steadied herself leaning against him, breathing in his scent. He was sweaty, but not out of breath. She made a mental note to renew her gym membership. If she took another of these adventure vacations, she’d make damn sure she’d be ready for whatever.
He turned slightly and touched her shoulder, then pushed her down. “Shhh. Stay. I’ll be back. Whatever you hear, don’t move.”
But how will you find me? She didn’t say the words out loud, but crouched, tuning her ears to his sounds as he left her. He moved like a ghost because three steps later, he was gone.
The sound of insects chirping and buzzing, and frogs ribbeting filled the air. Then in the distance, she heard more shouts, the rustle of brush, the crack of branches. She was glad she couldn’t understand what was said, but worried more when the voices stopped, because she knew they were hunting for her.
The rustling, crackling sounds grew nearer, and she debated fleeing in the opposite direction, but to where? Squinting, she peered into the darkness, hoping to discern shapes or movement. She worried Angel had abandoned her, or had been caught. What would the nasty little man do to someone who betrayed him? Her stomach clenched into a tight ball.
An explosion shook the ground. Light spilled into the sky. She shrank against the trunk of a tree as she stared up at a tall orange plume rising from the direction of the building they’d passed. Then the sound of leaves rustling near her froze her in place. She couldn’t help her reaction—she gasped, her next panicked breaths just as loud and nearing choppy sobs.
Suddenly, a warm hand covered her mouth. She gave a muffled shout and aimed a sharp elbow behind her.
“Shhh, baby, it’s me. Shhh.”
At his words near her ear, she sagged against Angel with fresh tears seeping from her eyes. When had she become such a crybaby?
“Gotta go now,” he whispered in her ear. “You okay?”
She nodded, and the hand fell away snatching up hers again, and off they ran. Again, they moved quickly, breaking through the trees and then scrambling over thick vines to the river’s edge.
A glance to the left revealed moonlight bathing a rickety, wooden dock with a shiny white speedboat tied to a post—their destination by Angel’s increased pace. When she stepped onto the dock, she heard a moan and rustling in the vegetation. Glancing down, she saw the outline of a man’s body, hands tied behind his back.
Angel’s work, no doubt about it. Although how he’d managed in the short space of time he’d been gone to set the building on fire, and then find the dock and incapacitate the guard, she didn’t know. But she did think he was awfully handy to have around in a crisis.
He let go of her hand and ran to the boat, making quick work of the rope. Then he climbed onto it and extended his hand.
A shot rang out, splintering wood a foot away.
Maya screamed, and Angel reached out and grabbed her hand to pull her into the boat. She landed on the deck, but he was already standing behind the helm. A moment later, the engine rumbled into life.
More shots rang out, and she huddled on the floor of the boat, hands covering her ears, willing Angel to gun the engine and get them the hell out of there, which he did, looking like a war god in a chariot with the moonlight bathing his features in silver light and shadows.
The sound of the gunfire receded as they pulled away. Emboldened, she pushed upward, scrambling to get her feet underneath her with the boat pitching to the left and right because Angel hadn’t stopped zigzagging his way up the river.
Did that mean more of the drug soldiers might be waiting in the brush to open fire? She came up beside Angel and settled into the chair next to where he
stood. “So what’s your plan?” she shouted above the roar of the engine.
“You think I have a plan?”
She didn’t know why, but the exasperation in his voice struck her as funny, and she laughed.
His gaze shot toward her. His eyebrows were low, shadowing his sexy eyes. “You do know you shot the hell out of a six-month investigation.”
Investigation? Her gaze shifted from his face to the water ahead. Facts began to click into place. She watched lots of crime shows on TV. Her faith in her good taste in men was restored. “I didn’t kidnap myself.”
“If you’d stuck to your room in the barracks, they wouldn’t have gone for the grab.”
“But they were waiting.” Exasperation tightened her muscles. “I could have been all by myself, and then where would I be? They’d have known I wasn’t their target the second they sat me in front of the camera and told me to tell my daddy, Jorge Yanez, to do whatever they told him if he ever wanted to see his little girl alive again. I’d have blabbed right away that they had the wrong girl.” She wrinkled her nose. “I tend to blurt before I think.”
He grunted and shook his head. “We can’t head back to the camp. They likely have someone on the inside. It’s how they knew you were with me. We’ll have to cut the engine when we get close so we won’t be heard, pull close to the bank, and cover up the boat. I have to get to my radio to call for an extraction.”
Her eyes widened. “As in helicopters?”
“As in, have my handler figure out where we can hide until he can muster a team to get us out. We have several contingency plans in place. Just depends on how tight Calderon’s got the region sewn up.”
“Is Calderon the man with the big mustache?”
“No, that’s Paulo Garcia, one of his lieutenants. A vicious bastard. Garcia will be out for blood. If Calderon catches us first, he’s as good as dead. Calderon doesn’t tolerate mistakes and Garcia made two big ones.”
Chapter 5
Now that they were out of range of Calderon’s little army, Angel slowed the speed of the boat. The last thing they needed was to hit something floating in the water he couldn’t see. He didn’t dare use the boat’s lights. Even at the reduced speed, they were traveling faster than Perez’s people could as they drove the winding roads. But Angel wouldn’t mention the fact they were only a step ahead to Maya because she’d already been through enough. The plain truth was this escape was a long shot. For now, they had the advantage of the cover of darkness, but once the sun rose, if Garcia told his boss, everyone on Calderon’s payroll would be looking for this boat.
Not that he could see any other option. They didn’t dare take a vehicle from the compound because the police were in Calderon’s pocket and might already be setting up roadblocks. The river was the safest route, but once they approached any towns, people could be at the water’s edge looking for them.
Hopefully, one of Cowboy’s safe houses would be near enough to their route to provide shelter for a day or two.
For the first time since he’d looked down the gun barrel one of Garcia’s men had shoved in his face in the shower, he thought about what a couple of days of solitude with Maya might mean.
Would she be eager to pick up where they’d left off, or once the adrenaline faded, would anger simmer to the surface—at him and her situation? She might put two and two together and figure out Calderon had intended for him to pick out Yanez’s daughter to deliver her. Never mind he’d had every intention of spiriting the girl away to safety. His interest in Maya had landed her in this mess.
Maybe if he hadn’t been so distracted by Maya’s many pleasing attributes, he’d have figured out sooner she was the wrong woman. He couldn’t worry about the shitstorm sure to hit once the operation commander got wind of the mistake. Months of preparation, and finally infiltration of Calderon’s organization, down the drain. His boss would have him sitting behind a desk in D.C. for the rest of his career. An option he detested.
Even though he’d been promised this was his last deep cover op, Angel had hoped for something better as his reward—maybe his own investigative team, far from the Beltway, someplace he could put down some roots. Then he could think about finding a girlfriend, buying a house, maybe even starting a family.
But while thoughts of the botched operation certainly weighed him down, other thoughts intruded. Of Maya—gloriously naked and riding his cock. Bravely facing Garcia, and then doing the unthinkable, and tipping away the barrel of the weapon.
The thought made him grin, inappropriate as hell because she’d been in terrible danger, but still, she’d been so annoyed at the interruption she’d held her head at a regal angle. He’d nearly bitten off his tongue, trying to hold back a warning. She hadn’t known the action wasn’t part of another training scenario until they were bumping down the dirt trail in the back of a vehicle. The way she’d snuggled her thigh against his for comfort had caused a pang in his chest. Although unsure he wasn’t one of them, she’d instinctively turned to him.
Her belief in him made him all the more determined he wouldn’t let her down. She might hate his guts by the time they reached safety, rightly placing some of the blame on him, but he hoped not. Fact was, he liked her. She might seem flighty and shallow, but at her core, she was a helluva strong woman. She hadn’t curled up in a ball of misery, had kept pace with him, following his lead every step of the way. Damn smart, even if the staff at the school had pegged her as an airhead.
Hell, he’d thought the same thing after the driving test. So she’d scared a few minutes off his life—she’d managed the turns, deftly handled the braking. If she’d been a little distracted, well, so had he.
Lights from the compound shone in the distance. He cut the engine and pointed the boat toward the bank and let it drift to a halt against soft river silt. “We’re here.”
Maya swiveled her seat and stood. “Why don’t we just call for help from there? It’s not like they don’t have plenty of weapons to protect us.”
“Sweetheart, we can’t trust any of the staff. Someone tipped off Garcia that we were well away from the rest of the camp when they snatched you.”
“Oh.” Her face fell. “Don’t suppose we could sneak in and get a change of clothes or my purse?”
He shook his head. “Can’t risk going anywhere near there. Sorry.”
Her shoulders drooped, but she nodded.
He picked up the dock line and went over the side of the boat into the water, pulling the boat until its hull jammed deeper in mud. Then he began gathering branches and vegetation which he handed to her.
Without waiting to be told what they were for, she piled the branches and vines on the boat, masking its outline.
Like he’d thought before. Smart.
When she moved to follow him into the water, he shook his head. “Stay with the boat. I have to go alone.”
Maya’s eyes shot wide in the moonlight. “If they have another boat. Or someone sees it...”
Angel gave her a short nod and reached out, gripping her waist, then carried her to the river bank where he set her on her feet. “Stay here, hidden in the brush. I have to go alone. Won’t be longer than fifteen minutes. I promise.”
For a couple seconds, she clung to his shoulders. Her eyes were still large in her face, and her gaze turned to the jungle around them.
She wasn’t used to the jungle, much less to being chased by criminals. His chest tightened. “I’ll be faster on my own. Every minute counts.”
“Go,” she blurted and waved her hands. “I’ll hide. I’ll be fine.”
Angel didn’t like leaving her again, worried she’d come to harm, and he wouldn’t be there to help, but he didn’t know another way. Before he turned away, he gathered her close to his chest. Her head tilted back, and as natural as breathing, he bent to kiss her soft mouth. The kiss was sweet and short.
When he broke away, he leaned his forehead against hers, reluctant to go, even though he knew he had to, and quickly. “Maya...
”
She shoved at his chest until he stepped back. “Go,” she said, her voice gruff. “Sooner you get back...”
Blowing out a deep breath, he gave her a terse nod, turned, and ran into the jungle. Skirting the encampment, he climbed the hill. Since he’d trekked to his hidey hole in the dark before, he had no problems picking out landmarks along the way.
He found the pack, unwrapped the radio, and spoke quietly into the mike. “Cowboy, you got your ears on?”
A long, tense moment later, “Hey, Wingman. Didn’t expect a second transmission. What’s up?”
“Shit’s gone sideways, and I need a safe house for me and the Cordoba woman.”
Cowboy whistled. “Guess we’ll save the explanations for later. Get yourself to Soledad’s Cantina in Vista Verde. From there, I’ll have someone with keys and transport. They’ll take you to a safe house until I can get a team together to get you two out. Be okay for a couple of days?” Although he’d delivered his message in rapid fire, there was a hint of amusement in his voice. Cowboy knew Maya was attractive, and that Angel was interested.
“We’ll be fine, if she doesn’t kill me once she’s over being scared.”
Cowboy laughed. “Keep your ass out of trouble. Out.”
Angel quickly wrapped the radio and reburied it, hating to leave the expensive equipment behind, but knew he had to travel fast. Circling the fence outside the compound, he noted the barrack’s lights were out. Only tall security lamps illuminated the area. A movement near the motor pool drew his interest.
Mark Saunders’ blond hair glinted in the lamplight as he made his way to his car.
The answer to who the inside man was all too clear. No doubt Saunders was heading to Garcia now. Angel wondered if the man was aware they’d escaped. Garcia might take his anger out on the man, but Angel couldn’t spare the time to warn him, or risk that Saunders might try to capture him to bring him in.
Uniform Desires (Make Mine Military Romance) Page 39