The woman held on to him until Brody ducked and entered the darkened hut. It had very little. A round table, a small camp stove, one cabinet with a washbowl, and a broken mirror hanging on the wall. In the back corner of the single room, three pallets cluttered the floor.
She asked him to sit, and Brody collapsed onto the chair and propped his elbows on the table. Looking at the woman, he guessed at one time she might have been beautiful, but the desert and poverty had a way of robbing a woman of her looks. Probably no more than forty, she looked sixty.
She was short, with a round body. Her skin resembled distressed leather. The clothes she wore were soiled, ragged and possibly all she owned. A colorful bandana covered dull black hair as proof that regardless of her situation, she was a woman. When she placed a plate of beans and two tortillas in front of him, Brody noticed the dirt beneath her fingernails.
This kind lady knew few luxuries if any. But she possessed a generous heart, and that touched him in a way that would make his mama proud.
He shoved the plate away. “Thank you, ma’am, but I won’t take food from your family.”
“We have beans and flour. It’s all we have. You are welcome to it.”
“That’s kind of you.”
“You must get strong if you are to fight the devil.”
“Be quiet,” a young man said from the doorway. “You are not to help his man. Chavez gave the order for Papa to kill him.” He knocked the chair over. “And here you are feeding him.”
The woman Brody had thought kind and demur walked over and slapped the teenager across the face. The boy lowered his head in shame. “Do you forget what he took from us?”
The locals crowded into and around the woman’s home. “Have you all forgotten?”
Murmurs circulated, and Brody had a hard time keeping up.
The padre stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his head lowered. “We cannot bring more violence to this village.” He turned and walked toward the door. “Feed him and send him on his way. For the sake of all of us, Alana.”
The people left and quiet settled over the small house. Brody picked up the battered spoon and scooped the beans from the tin pan. Then he ate the tortillas. The young boy stood in the corner, his eyes never moving from the floor.
Brody stood and approached the kid. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause any trouble to your people. I just have to get my friend.”
The boy said nothing as Brody crossed the room and hugged Alana, who’d shown him such kindness. From his bag he took out two canteens and walked toward the well.
He’d need water, but he planned to get away from the village then try to rest.
As Brody filled the second container, the padre came out of the tiny church and took him by the arm. He pointed him in the direction of a straw strewn lean-to. “Sleep here tonight. You can leave right after dawn.”
“I thank you for your hospitality.”
“Before you sleep, come inside the church. We’ll pray and maybe have a glass of communion wine.”
He smiled and held out his hand. Brody dropped his bag in the straw and entered the church.
Made of crumbling sun-bleached stone, it resembled the old abandoned missions dotting the city of San Antonio, Texas, except some of churches there were in better shape than the one in this village.
Inside at the altar hung a statue of Jesus on the cross looking down at the congregation. Painted red blood dripped from the nail wounds on the sacred figure. Head bowed, eyes half closed, it depicted the imminent death of Christ.
No doubt a cheap imitation, but the reverence was clearly visible when the priest knelt beside one of the benches and made the sign of the cross.
Brody simply nodded. He’d been born and raised a Southern Baptist and didn’t know a lot about the Catholic faith, but his mama taught him to respect everyone and their beliefs.
Their way lit by many burning candles, they walked past four rows of benches. Down two steps, they entered a small room with another crucifix on the wall, along with a desk and two wooden chairs.
“Where do you come from?” asked the priest.
“Dallas, in Texas.”
“You are a man of war?”
“I guess someone dressed like you might think so.”
The priest held out his hand. “I am Father Ayaaya.”
Shaking the offered hand, Brody replied, “Brody Hawke.”
After Father Ayaaya poured two small glasses to the rim, he offered Brody a chair, and they sat together and sipped the bitter wine.
“Brody Hawke, you want to kill Chavez?”
“I want to free my friend and get back the woman. Chavez can wait until another day.”
“I doubt he will release either as long as he breathes.”
“Then I guess he’s going to stop breathing, because I’m not going home empty handed.”
“You may not go home at all.”
“Then I will have tried.”
Father Ayaaya leaned forward, his intense eyes bright with curiosity. “Why do men like you fight?”
“It’s not about why we fight. It’s what we’re fighting for.”
“And what is that?”
“Freedom, honor, and justice.”
“Those words mean a lot to you?
“They’re all a man like me has.”
“I think I can help you a little. But for now, get some rest, and let’s see what tomorrow brings.”
Brody finished the wine and walked from the church. The young boy from Alana’s house stood beside his bag under the lean-to. “Don’t think about taking anything.”
The kid’s head came up and his dark eyes smoldered. “I am not trying to steal from you.”
“No? Then what do you want?”
“I want to go with you.”
“That’s too dangerous. Besides, if Chavez catches you he can make it tough for your family.”
“He already has. He can’t hurt us anymore.”
“What’s your name?”
“Manny.”
“I’m Brody. I’d like to take you with me, but it’s doubtful I’ll make it out of there alive.”
“Then we die fighting.”
The kid couldn’t be more than fifteen and as he moved about, Brody noticed he dragged his left foot. Brody put his hand on the kid’s shoulder. “Look, I understand. I imagine Chavez runs this village and those close by. And I know he’s mean. But I can’t take you away. Your family needs you here.”
Manny jerked back. “My family does not need me. No one does. I am a useless cripple. I can do nothing. My life is nothing.”
Manny moved into the darkness. A burning hole tightened Brody’s chest. He knew that useless feeling and how it felt to be so helpless. Hell, he’d felt that way since A.J.’s capture. They were both prisoners in their own skin. They couldn’t do anything to help the person they cared for.
Brody moved his bag and lay down in the straw, exhausted. Dawn would come quickly. He’d be lucky to get a few hours of sleep before going out to find A.J. and Kate.
Inside, his heart physically ached knowing Chavez held two people he cared about and he could do nothing to help them until morning. Not knowing the situation drove him crazy.
Having failed Kate shredded his confidence to the point recovery appeared doubtful. Not for the first time he questioned his actions with Kate’s life. He had no right to take her against her will. He’d been wrong...dead wrong.
If anything happened to her he knew where to lay the blame, and who would suffer most. Images of her face crept into his mind. Her beauty seared his eyes.
For the first time, he questioned what he’d believed in all his life. His ethics humbled him to the point of uncertainty. He had no choice. For redemption he’d find Kate and A.J. and get them back home safely. No matter what the cost.
He reached in his pocket and took out his smartphone. It’d been off since he left Frank’s office earlier that day. As he swiped his finger across the bottom of t
he screen, all the apps blinked to life.
The status message showed three missed call, all from Frank. Brody turned the cell phone off to conserve the batteries, and then he lay down. Yeah, he had a real ass chewing coming.
But to save Kate and A.J., Brody would take a verbal slap down. In Kate’s case, he’d be lucky to get away with Frank just going ballistic. If when this all ended, he still had his job, Brody would believe all that karma and positive thinking crap Zoe, their secretary, preached and lived by.
Odds were he’d be looking for employment by the end of the week.
As Brody slipped a handful of straw beneath his head, he wondered what his mother and two older sisters would think about him kidnapping an innocent woman. Closing his eyes, he knew better than to search for solace there.
Chapter 8
Kate woke with a start. The surroundings left her disoriented and confused. Where had they taken her? Panic washed over her like a tsunami with wave after wave of pain.
She moved her arms and legs slowly, gasping as sizzling swells of anguish smashed into her body. She’d been slammed around to the point her arms and shoulders screamed in agony. She dreaded to think what her face looked like.
Surveying her locality, Kate quickly learned they’d locked her in what Oscar commonly referred to as his dungeon. Basement would be a better word. It was simply two dugout cells and iron bars which served as doors.
She caught a whiff of a latrine bucket and wrinkled her nose as the odors of sweat and blood churned her stomach.
Pushing into a seated position, she rested against the back wall of her cell and struggled to breathe. Touching her ribs, she gasped. If a few weren’t broken, they were pretty banged up. Her lips were cracked. The coppery tang of blood filled her mouth.
An ache deep as a valley consumed her body. Battered and weak, she wondered if she could stand.
By the ruddy light coming in from the tall narrow window far beyond her reach, Kate checked herself only to find bruising, small cuts, and scrapes. Dirt covered her from head to toe. Speaking of which, someone had put a pair of black, man size flip-flops on her feet.
The blood didn’t come from any particular place, so Kate surmised Oscar hadn’t sliced her up with a knife. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t in the near future.
She leaned her head against the hard wall and wondered how she’d ever get out alive. Oscar certainly intended to kill her. No doubt he’d take his time with the task. None of this bode well for her. Somehow she had to escape.
“You okay over there?” a male voice called out.
In the dark shadow of her cell, Kate couldn’t see beyond the bars. “Who’s there?”
“Aaron James Roddio.”
“A.J.?”
A startled silence drifted through the stale air. “You know me?”
Kate scooted closer. “I don’t know you, but I’ve met your friend Brody.”
“Brody?” A.J. asked. “Here?”
“He was. I think he might be dead now.”
A.J. came into view when he lunged for the bars and clutched them in a deadly grasp. “Brody, dead?”
Kate shook her head at the irony. Brody kidnapped her to find A.J., and here she was the one looking at him. Now they were both being held hostage by a man who liked to kill just because he could. “Last I saw, he was sprawled on the floor in a neighboring village.”
“What happened?”
Only eight feet of packed dirt separated them, but it may as well have been a mile. While she had no idea how she looked, A.J.’s condition alarmed her and for good reason. The dirt and grime, along with the bruises, told her his visit to La Hacienda hadn’t been pleasant.
Dark circles beneath his eyes and a broken nose spoke of Oscar’s brutality. No wonder Brody wanted him free.
“My name is Kate Stone. I’m a CIA agent. Brody kidnapped me and brought me here to trade for you. I don’t think he intended it to work out this way. I guess we’re all losers in this game.”
“I would say all that surprised me, but we are talking about Brody Hawke. He can come up with the damndest ideas.” A.J. rubbed the back of his neck. “Surprisingly, he usually comes out the winner.”
“Yeah, well this time his idea didn’t work.”
A.J. pressed his lips together tightly then said, “I can’t imagine him putting your life in danger. That’s not like him.”
“Let’s just say things didn’t happen the way he hoped they would.”
Kate rested her forehead against the iron bars and enjoyed the coolness the basement offered. Not as comfortable as the air conditioning upstairs, but bearable. At least she wasn’t sweating like a weight-lifter.
“What happened?”
“Like I said, Brody kidnapped me. Then a guy named Jake flew us here and dropped us off. While I wasn’t privy to the plan, I think Brody had made contact with someone who set him up.”
“So Jake flew you here?”
“Yes.”
A low whistle plowed through the air. “I’m surprised Frank approved that.”
“I don’t think Frank knows.”
A.J. shook his head. “That’s never good.”
“Jake said the same thing. I guess you know Brody better than I do. So you know how hard-headed he can be.”
“God, yes, I do. That boy is going to get himself killed one of these days.” He paused, his face solemn. “If they haven’t already taken him out.”
The door above them banged open, flooding the cellar with light. Two of Oscar’s men tromped down the stairs. Both were dressed in mis-matched military uniforms. Kate wanted to laugh aloud at the absurdity.
One carried two tin plates of food. Behind him the other balanced a couple of containers of water and a lantern.
When the two guards entered the basement, the second man set the water down, pulled out a gun and unclipped a set of keys from his belt loop. “Get back,” he commanded, waving the gun.
Kate moved a foot away, and kept her hands in full view. Without taking his eyes off her, the guard put the pan on the floor by the door. He turned, took the water and put it in her cell next to the food. The sound of a metal lock echoed through the basement.
They approach A.J.’s cell next. “You know the drill. Get back against the wall.” Oscar’s man with the gun pulled back the hammer. A.J. obeyed cautiously. The anxious guard quickly put the food and water down and then swiftly locked the cell.
Obviously these men had been jumped before, and while they had to obey Oscar, this clearly wasn’t their favorite assignment. When the man who’d carried the food walked to her cell, Kate hadn’t moved. “Chavez has a special treat for you, senorita.”
“I can’t wait.”
The men laughed as they stomped up the wooden stairs.
A.J. moved closer to his food. “Eat up. You’ll need your strength.”
“What is it?”
“Rice and beans. And it looks like our lucky day. They’re serving tortillas. I don’t get these very often.”
“I think my jaw is broken,” Kate said, rubbing her chin. “There isn’t a place on my body that doesn’t hurt.”
“Drink the water. It’ll help.”
Thirst rose inside her like a demon. She cupped her palms in the water and took a long drink. The water wasn’t cold or clear, but she didn’t care.
With her thirst quenched, Kate lay on her back and covered her eyes with her forearm, trying to mentally fight her way out of misery.
It didn’t take a genius to know they had no chance of surviving. Nothing good could come from whatever Oscar had up his sleeve. Murder probably.
“Eat up,” A.J. said. “You leave any food and the rats will start coming back around. I’ve been licking the plate so they’d know this infested cesspool wasn’t a good food source.”
“I don’t think I can hold anything down. Besides, why bother?”
A.J.’s voice sounded louder. “Don’t say that. Never give up. Especially, don’t give up on Brody.”
> “What if he’s dead?”
“What if he isn’t?”
“Oscar left him there for the villagers too kill.”
“It’s been my experience that a lot of people have made the mistake of thinking Brody an easy kill, only to be disappointed in the end. Nothing could be further from the truth. If he’s anywhere around, he’ll find us.”
“You’re looking for hope where there is none.”
“I’m not going to stop believing until something or someone proves me wrong.”
Kate propped herself up on her elbows and stared across at the prisoner. The man could barely move, yet his spirits were high. She felt bad for being so negative. He’d certainly suffered a lot more than she had and still he remained positive.
Suddenly Kate wanted out more than anything in the world. She refused to wait for Oscar to kill her. He might do it, but she’d go down fighting.
She took the food and forced it down her throat. She ate everything and as A.J. suggested, licked the tin plate clean before throwing it to the center of the room.
After drinking some water, A.J. leaned against the bars.
“Can you walk?” Kate asked.
“I can, but don’t ask me to run.”
“Will they feed us again?”
“They’re like clockwork. Usually the last meal is right before nightfall. No one comes down here late because of the critters.”
“Did you see what I saw when they brought the food?”
“Those two idiots aren’t afraid of you.” A.J. grinned. “While with me, they damn well know better.”
“Right,” Kate said. “And we need to take advantage of that.”
“You may be CIA, but you’re not in shape to take on two guys.”
“Now who doubts?”
He let out a tired breath. “These men can do a job on a woman before they kill her.”
Worry laced every word.
“I know,” she said.
“We only have until the evening to come up with a plan.”
Kate stood and began walking around her cell. “I can’t get ready laying in the dirt.”
“If you get a chance to get out of here, don’t worry about me.”
9 Ways to Fall in Love Page 54