by Lyn Horner
“I said put me down, you mother –”
He delivered a stinging slap to her rump. “Quiet, bruja! Or I will wash your mouth out with soap as you deserve.”
She wanted to hurl cuss words at him but clamped her teeth together and fumed in silence. Soon, she couldn’t speak as he strode along bouncing her on his shoulder, knocking the air from her lungs with no regard for her or the risk of tripping as she had done earlier. By the time they arrived back in camp, she could barely breathe.
Valdez dumped her on the ground by her tent. She landed in a painful heap, a small rock digging into her hip. He stood over her, wearing a menacing scowl.
“Get in there,” he ordered imperiously, pointing at the tent, “and sleep. Tomorrow will be a long day.”
Reluctantly obeying, she turned and crawled into the tent. She zipped it shut with trembling fingers, ashamed to admit the bastard had frightened her. What did he mean tomorrow would be a long day? Did he plan to beat her into submission, to make her say she was one of the Hellhounds? It wouldn’t work, because it wasn’t true.
The fool! He hadn’t even given her a chance to tell him her main reason for coming here, that she was supposed to fly him to safety. All he’d done was accuse her and manhandle her, making her so darn mad she’d wanted to punch him in the mouth. She didn’t take that kind of crap from any man. Furious, she considered trying to escape but immediately dismissed the idea. She’d made a promise to Lara and would not break her word.
The night had grown cool. Shivering, Josie scooted into her sleeping bag and curled on her side. Sleep seemed impossible, but as she rehashed everything that had happened between her and the tall Colombian, her eyelids drooped and she succumbed to her need for rest.
CHAPTER TWO
“Señorita? Señorita, you are awake?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m awake, Berto,” Josie called groggily from her tent. Jeez, it was still dark. She glanced at her glow-in-the-dark watch. It read 4:30 a.m. No wonder she felt like she hadn’t slept more than a few minutes,
“Okay, I tell Señor Gabriel. He say you come eat. We go soon.”
“Go where?” Hearing no reply, she maneuvered painfully from her sleeping bag. As she’d predicted, her thighs and bottom ached from yesterday’s ride, and other parts were tender where Valdez and that oaf Manuel had manhandled her. Fumbling around in the dark, she managed to unzip the tent and stick her head out. She half expected Valdez or one of his goons to be standing there, waiting to grab her, but seeing none of them nearby, she breathed slightly easier.
Most of the men squatted around the low-burning campfire, forking up food and slurping coffee from aluminum plates and cups. Valdez stood with a cup in his hand near their staked out mounts, talking with Javier, who appeared to be his right-hand man.
Wondering if he intended to send her back down the trail with Berto or beat her as she’d feared, Josie crawled from the tent and pushed stiffly to her feet. Valdez turned his head and eyed her, showing not a trace of emotion. She glared at him, letting him know she wasn’t about to forgive him for mistreating her. He looked away and called to Berto, instructing him to dish up breakfast for her.
“Sí, señor.” The young man jumped up from his spot by the fire. Grabbing another plate, he spooned food from a pan hanging over the low flames and motioned Josie to come and get it.
She walked cautiously toward him, gaze shifting around the men who watched her, some curiously, others with disdain or outright hatred in the case of Manuel. Berto pointed to the log where they’d sat eating supper only hours before, which seemed like days ago.
“Sit, señorita. Please.”
She did as he said but stared hard at him, making clear she’d guessed his role in her present situation. She’d hired him to lead her to Valdez. He’d done that all right, but she hadn’t expected to end up a prisoner. Looking shamefaced, he handed her the plate and brought her a cup of steaming coffee, then hunkered down to finish eating with the other men, who Josie studiously ignored.
The strong coffee energized her and, although she had no appetite, she forced down the greasy powdered eggs and some kind of salted meat she’d been served. She needed the nourishment for whatever Valdez had in mind for her. While eating, she shot a glance over her shoulder to where she’d last seen him. He wasn’t there, and a swift scan of the campsite didn’t reveal him.
Meanwhile, the men finished their breakfast, rinsed off their utensils in the nearby creek and stowed them away. Then they started saddling their mounts. She kept waiting for their overbearing leader to appear and dole out her punishment for daring to stand up to him, but he didn’t. Instead, Berto took her empty plate and cup to wash. When he returned, she rose and caught his sleeve. He nearly jumped out of his skin at her touch.
“I need to … you know,” she said, waving her hand at the bushes surrounding the small clearing, which had begun to lighten with approaching dawn.
The young man’s eyes widened. He swallowed hard, mustache bobbing. “Señorita, I-I do not know –”
“I will see to the señorita, Berto,” Valdez said in a smooth-as-honey tone behind Josie, making her spin around.
“No! I don’t want you to … .” She couldn’t get the words out.
“To escort you into the trees?” he supplied, lips twitching.
She narrowed her eyes, riled by his obvious amusement. Her face burned. “Yes!” she ground out.
“But I insist, my dear.” With that, he caught her elbow and urged her toward the woods. Silently cursing him and his watching followers, she let him lead her to a clump of tropical ferns growing between two giant palm trees. He pointed to the larger of the two. “You will find privacy beyond that tree. I will wait here. Do not go far and watch where you step. There are snakes and other things you would not care to meet.”
His mention of snakes made her skin crawl. She had encountered sidewinders and other rattlers in her homeland, vipers and even cobras in Afghanistan. She’d learned long ago to give the slithering critters a wide birth, but how was she to see a snake here among the dense foliage? Glad she wore high riding boots, she glanced at Valdez, seeing his lips twitch again. That’s all it took to stiffen her spine.
Gathering her courage, she walked cautiously into the thick ferns. She stopped behind the tree her captor had pointed out and carefully studied the area. Seeing no sign of movement, she quickly relieved her urgent need, straightened her clothes and retreated from the lush greenery.
Valdez stood waiting in a hipshot pose, arms casually crossed. She shot him a haughty glare but didn’t resist when he lightly gripped her elbow again. Neither spoke until they neared the smothered campfire. Stomach churning with dread of what lay in store, Josie halted, freed her arm from his grasp and faced him.
“What are you going to do with me?” she demanded, hands on her hips.
He shrugged. “You have left me no choice but to take you with me.”
She frowned. “Take me with you where?”
“Up there.” He pointed to the mountain peak to the west, an intimidating silhouette in the gray dawn light.
“Are you crazy? No way am I climbing that mountain.”
He laughed. “Do not worry, the animals will do most of the climbing.”
“Don’t you laugh at me!” Josie fired back. “And I’m not going up there. I came here to find you and deliver a message, not hide out on a frozen mountaintop.”
“You will go where I say you go,” he said, all trace of humor gone. He reached for her arm, but she yanked it away and stumbled backward. “Be careful, little fool!” he shouted, pointing behind her.
Too late, she realized she teetered on the edge of the smothered campfire. Arms flailing, she fought to regain her balance. She shrieked in fear just as he grabbed her by the waist and hauled her to safety against his hard chest. She gasped and locked gazes with Gabriel Valdez’s grayish green eyes. They held anger and … concern? For her?
“Idiota! The coals are still burning hot.”
“I-I know. Thank you for catching me.” Shaking in reaction to her close call, she clung to him, arms wrapped around him. Suddenly realizing her position, she slipped her hands between them and tried to push him away, forgetting his wound.
His grimaced at her touch and hastily stepped back. Mouth set in a white line, he held her at arm’s length.
“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to do that.”
“Oh no? I think maybe you did.” Moving to the side, he gripped her arm and started to lead her to the saddled mounts.
“No! I won’t go!” She dug in her heels, resisting with all her might.
Halting, Valdez said, “You will go with me, Josie Tseda. You have no more choice in the matter than I do.” Then he signaled Javier forward.
*
Coming to a bend in the trail, Gabriel glanced over his shoulder at his prisoner. Third in the line of riders, with Javier leading her mule, she rode with her hands tied to the pommel of her saddle and feet to the stirrups. Meeting his gaze, she glared at him murderously. He suppressed a grin to avoid infuriating her more and faced forward.
She’d fought ferociously while being secured to the saddle, punching, kicking and biting, snarling like a wild thing the whole time. Javier, who could handle most anybody, had needed help from another man to subdue her. Gabriel admired the woman’s spirit but did not trust her. The story she had told about Hellhounds and her army buddies conveniently saving Guardians was too farfetched to believe.
How had she learned about the Guardians and that he was one of them? Did she know what they guarded? He meant to pry the answers out of her but not until they reached safety. He was a hunted man, on the kill lists of drug traffickers and corrupt officials, as well as the Farc, Marxist guerrilleros who infested the Colombian jungles. His only refuge lay in the Páramo, the cold, inhospitable heights above the tree line. Once there, he would find out one way or another who Josie Tseda really was and why she’d sought him out. He must in order to protect himself and his followers.
The woman was an enigma. Despite her fierce display, she was a small, delicate female, soft to the touch when she’d clung to him earlier. Her copper coloring, high cheek bones and femininely squared jaw revealed Indian blood, as did her long raven hair and huge, expressive brown eyes. Which norteamericano tribe did she belong to and how had such a petite woman qualified for the United States Army? He was fairly certain she’d spoken the truth about that at least. She was well trained in fighting skills judging by how she’d handled herself last night and while being secured on the mule.
He hoped she would open up and tell him the truth. The thought of using force to make her talk went against everything he believed in, but if that was the only way, he’d do it. Next to putting an end to drug trafficking in his native Cali and one vicious man in particular, protecting the ancient scroll he had vowed to guard was his mission in life. No woman, no matter how lovely and spirited, came before his sworn duty.
Brushing aside such concerns for now, Gabriel concentrated on watching the trail ahead and the heavy foliage on both sides, where his enemies might lie in wait, ready to gun down him and his men. Soon, they would reach the cloud forest, where ground-hugging fog offered concealment but also made it harder to spot a trap. Gut clenching, he hoped to pass through the danger zone without losing any men, or the woman.
Hazardous as the cloud forest was, it also held misty beauty. Would she notice and enjoy the rare sights, or was she too angry to appreciate them?
*
Josie was in so much pain that she had to bite her tongue to keep from crying out. Every step the mule took jostled her bottom and thighs, and she couldn’t even shift in the saddle because her feet were bound tightly to the stirrups. So tightly that they’d gone numb. She doubted she’d be able to stand when her ruthless captor stopped for a break. If he ever did.
Trying to distract herself, she thought of her friend, Dev Medina. He should be safely back in the States by now. Dev had accompanied her to Colombia, insisting it wasn’t safe for a woman alone. His implication that she couldn’t take care of herself had rankled, but she’d been grateful for his presence during her hunt for Valdez in Cali, the sprawling city where the Colombian formerly lived. They’d ventured into some seamy areas where no woman ought to be caught alone.
She managed a rueful smile, recalling Dev hadn’t trusted Berto, thinking it too convenient for the kid to suddenly show up at their hotel, claiming he knew where to find Señor Valdez. But after a week of asking questions and pursuing dead-end leads, Josie had been desperate to locate her quarry. Deciding to take the risk, she’d hired Berto as her guide and told Dev to go home. He’d argued of course, but she’d taken advantage of his weak spot, Michaela, the Guardian he had rescued from the clutches of a deranged Hellhound in Galveston, Texas. The statuesque blonde had become Dev’s ladylove along the way, and Josie knew he worried that she might be in danger.
Michaela was staying with Josie’s father, with no one else to protect her should the Hellhounds discover where she was hiding. Pressing that point, it hadn’t taken too long to convince Dev to catch a plane for home after seeing her and Berto off on the bus into the foothills. He’d felt bad about leaving her, but she’d given the big bear a hug and ordered him to go take care of his woman.
She’d been right to do so. No matter what happened, she did not want to be responsible for putting Dev in harm’s way. As a chopper pilot, she’d saved his butt too many times in Afghanistan to get him killed now.
Her mule vaulted up a particularly steep rise on the trail, jolting Josie more than usual. Excruciating pain shot through her tender parts. This time she couldn’t swallow an agonized gasp. Javier threw her a glance over his shoulder. Valdez drew rein and turned in his saddle to study her. She wasn’t quick enough to hide her grimace. Swinging his horse around, he walked the animal past Javier and halted beside her.
“You are in pain. Why did you not say something?”
She narrowed her eyes in resentment. “So you and your pack of wolves could laugh at me? Never!”
He shook his head. “No one is laughing now, certainly not me. You bring unneeded suffering upon yourself.”
“Oh yeah? You’re the one forcing me to ride up a steep trail on this miserable, stiff-legged old mule.”
Scowling, Valdez studied her mount for a moment then sighed and dismounted, saddle leather creaking. He stepped to Josie’s left and began to untie the rope binding her foot to the stirrup.
“What are you doing?”
“Is it not obvious? I am releasing you.” He didn’t bother looking up as he spoke. Finished freeing her numb left foot, he walked around the mule and untied her right foot then reached to free her hands.
“Now what?” she asked as the last rope fell away.
His lips crooked into a half-smile. “Now you step down, Señorita Tseda.”
Josie frowned. “I can’t. My hands and feet are numb from being tied so tight.”
He glowered at Javier, who sat silently observing, and reprimanded him for binding her too tightly. The other man lowered his head and muttered a reply.
Valdez turned his attention back to Josie. “Javier should have been careful not to cut off your circulation. Perhaps if you had not fought so hard –”
“Hey! You’d fight too, if somebody tried to hogtie you.”
Arching black eyebrows, he said, “I do not know this hogtie and I think I do not wish to know. Come down now. I will help you.” He grasped her by the waist and lifted her off the mule, trying to be gentle, she could tell, but even so she uttered a strangled cry and collapsed against him. Her feet and hands tingled painfully with the returning flow of blood, but what really hurt was the raw flesh along her inner thighs and private places. Pride was the only thing that prevented her from whimpering like a child.
Valdez scooped her up, drawing a surprised gasp from her lips. He issued an order to his men and they dismounted while he carried her to a spot at the side of the trail. Pa
using, he called to Berto and added a few curt words. A moment later the young man trotted over with a folded blanket and laid it on the ground where his boss indicated.
Josie didn’t know exactly when her arms had circled Valdez’s neck, but she was very aware of his male scent and the hard wall of his chest against her side. When he lowered her onto the blanket, she experienced a sense of loss as he separated from her.
Crazy woman! He’s an arrogant bully who kidnapped you. You can’t let yourself feel anything but anger toward him.
He stood and walked to his horse, returning shortly with a canteen. Uncapping it, he bent and handed it to her. She nodded, disturbed by her unwanted reaction to him and unable to speak. Leaving her to rest and drink her fill, he sauntered over to the other men, several of whom had taken the opportunity to sprawl in the shade.
Covertly watching him from beneath the screen of her lashes, Josie couldn’t help admiring his tall, sinewy build and fluid grace. He sat near Javier and Berto, leaning against the trunk of a convenient palm tree with his long legs crossed at the ankles. Removing his hat, he raked a hand through his rumpled black hair and replaced the hat. He carried on a casual conversation in Spanish with his companions and laughed at some comment from Javier that made Berto scowl and turn red, plainly embarrassed.
Javier slung his burly arm around the young man’s head, knocking his hat off, and ruffled his hair. At that point, Josie noticed a resemblance between the two and it dawned on her that they were likely father and son. She might have seen it before if she hadn’t been so wrapped up in her alarming situation … and in ogling their leader, she admitted.
Valdez only allowed them a few minutes’ rest. As the men mounted up, he strode over to where she sat. Wondering how she was going to survive the rest of the day in the saddle, she struggled to her feet and bent stiffly to retrieve the blanket.
“Let me have that,” Valdez said, taking the blanket from her. “Come, I will make you as comfortable as possible.” He held out his hand and waited for her to take it. When she hesitantly placed her much smaller hand in his, he didn’t lead her to the mule, her beast of torture. Instead, he steered her toward his sleek bay gelding, which looked to be at least sixteen hands high.