At the end of the garden, using a large shrub to conceal their silhouettes, he scanned the expanse and surrounding area between where he stood and the stone wall. The battle still raged on the other side of the property, and Darius wondered why this end seemed to be clear. Not that he would complain.
After checking his grip on Tahira’s motionless body, Darius took off at a dead run. The muddied soil of the lush lawn tried to suck his feet into its depths as he zig-zagged across it, making each step more difficult than the last. Moving in a straight line made a person an easy target, and even though it seemed they were in the clear, Darius wouldn’t risk going against his training.
Reaching the gate, Darius cursed when he saw a lock and chain keeping it shut. Pointing the muzzle of the automatic weapon at the lock, he fired a burst of bullets, destroying the hinderance keeping him from getting Tahira to safety. Hopefully the storm and gunfight on the other side of the property had muffled his shots. He kicked open the gate, then glanced back to make sure they hadn’t been spotted. Water rolled down his brow into his eyes, and he shook his head to clear his vision.
It was a short run to the tree line, but the mud he was now dealing with was worse than before. Each sinking step was a struggle to stay upright and moving. He’d give anything to have his favorite military boots right then. The construction boots he had on had been part of his cover. He’d arrived at the Diaz compound with summer clothes. Apparently, the spoiled rich kid, “Glenn Hamilton,” thought the entire continent of South America was sunny and warm all year round. Members of the cartel had laughed at the estúpido gringo. Carlos had been ordered to take him shopping the next day for more appropriate clothing.
Once he hit the edge of the woods, the ground was harder, and it was easier to maneuver. He jogged into the shadows of the tall canopy of pine, eucalyptus, and willow trees for about a hundred yards before, ducking behind a thick, bark-covered trunk and peering around to see if he’d been spotted or followed. There was no sign of life, human or otherwise. The wildlife was probably hunkered down against the teeming fury released by Mother Nature.
Turning his head into Tahira’s hip, he put his mouth as close to his watch as possible. “Batman to Home Base. The princess and I are clear, heading to Rendezvous Oscar. Blow the place to kingdom come.”
A few seconds ticked by as Darius wondered if his transmission had been received. Without his earpiece, he could only hope Egghead and Cookie were just making certain all the good guys were also out of the blast zone. Once they got the go-ahead, they’d send a signal to a satellite they were patched into, which would then set off the explosives Darius had hidden throughout the mansion the day before. Some might think it was overkill, but the less evidence a US-sanctioned agent had spent the past few months living there, the better. It had been a relief to know Diaz had sent his wife and kids out of the country, and Secada had dismissed the innocent housekeeping and kitchen staff for the day. Darius would have hated for any of them to have been killed in the destructive maelstrom taking place.
Just when he thought they hadn’t heard him in Tampa, a tremendous roar filled the night, drowning out everything but its destruction of the house. Maybe he’d used a little too much C4 because even from that distance, he could feel the scorching heat of the fire. Letting the rifle hang from its sling, Darius reached back and found Tahira’s wrist and quickly checked her pulse. She was already ice cold, and her heart rate was too fast. Damn it. He could lose her to hypothermia before they reached the orphanage. It was too far a hike in the crappy conditions to risk it. He had to find shelter for the night and get her dressed and warm. Hopefully, she’d be awake by the time the weather cleared. If his teammates had gotten his transmissions, they’d start working their way from the orphanage toward the Diaz property, looking for him and Tahira when they failed to show up right away. But the team knew he’d do what anyone of them would have done and that was get the unconscious woman dry and protect her until it was safe for them to travel again.
Turning his back on the fiery ruins, he set out to find a shelter to hunker down in for a few hours.
14
Tahira clawed her way toward the light, desperate to escape the clutches of the demon intent on keeping her in the pitch-black abyss she’d fallen into. The heat was unbearable, her body sweating profusely as she struggled to get away from the heaviness pinning her down. Her mouth was parched, and her body ached, but she ignored the discomfort. She had to run away, if only she could just get to her feet. But where would she run to? She couldn’t see anything in the darkness surrounding her.
A deafening explosion had her nearly jumping out of her skin. She screamed, but it was cut off when a hand clamped down over her mouth, making it even more difficult to breathe. A damp, putrid stench of decay assaulted her nares.
Make me hard, bitch.
One of her hands broke free of its confinement, and she struck out, trying to force her captor to release her.
Make me hard . . .
“Princess . . . shh . . . it’s—”
She swung, kicked, and thrashed harder against whomever was holding her back, desperate to get away from . . . from whom? She couldn’t remember but knew she had to escape. She bared her teeth and sunk them into the hand covering her mouth as best she could. Blood tinged her tongue.
“God damn it,” the man hissed in a low, insistent voice. “Tahira! It’s Darius Knight. Stop fucking biting me.”
The words penetrated her mind, and every muscle in her body froze. Darius? Oh, thank God! She quickly unclenched her jaw, releasing him.
She blinked several times, and it was then she realized her eyes had been shut this whole time. Her gaze darted around as she tried to figure out their surroundings. As her vision adjusted to the dimness, there was just enough light for her to figure out they weren’t in a house or other building. She was laying on something hard. The air around them was bone chilling, and damp, and a shiver chased away the last of the oppressive heat she’d felt during her nightmare. There was a tarp or something between her body and the ground.
Stretched out behind her, Darius’s body relaxed. One of his legs was draped heavily over her thighs and his arm crossed her torso, immobilizing her. While his shirt appeared to be dry, his cargo pants were damp. He slowly moved off her, as if making sure she wasn’t going to start fighting again, before he completely pulled away. She missed the warmth of his body immediately.
“Are you okay?” His voice remained low, but, this time, it was calming and filled with concern. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
Hurt her? She didn’t think he had; however, she’d obviously hurt him. But as she rolled onto her back, Tahira realized she was aching—in a lot of places. From head to toe, her body felt like she’d been in a car accident or had tumbled down a rocky hill, although nothing seemed to be broken. She grimaced as she gently tried to get comfortable, then looked up to find Darius lying on his side, a few inches away, staring down at her. It had been months since she’d seen him, and she’d almost forgotten how handsome he was—almost. His emerald green-eyed gaze searched her face, and a mustache and beard covered his upper lip and jawline. She couldn’t recall ever seeing him with more than a five o’clock shadow and decided she didn’t care for the long, scruffy hair covering his face. Maybe if it was trimmed.
His brow was furrowed, and she almost reached out to soothe it with her fingers.
A torrential downpour registered in her mind, but they were obviously sheltered from the storm. “Where are—”
“Shh. Keep your voice down. I don’t think anyone followed us, and it’s unlikely they’d hear us over the rain, but we can’t take any chances the bad guys might be looking for us.”
Bad guys? Memories flooded her mind in short bursts, making it difficult to focus on just one. The cruise. Jamaica. The waterfalls. Men with guns. Her bodyguards shot. Waking up in an underground prison with her cousins and other women. Struggling against someone’s grip. Pain. Then nothing but darknes
s.
“Oh my God,” she whispered. “My cousins—”
“Are fine. Ian, Amar, and the rest of the team rescued them and flew them to safety on a helicopter.”
Her eyes narrowed with confusion. Why wasn’t she with them? She’d been in the cells with them, so it stood to reason she would’ve been rescued with them, right?
As if he’d read her mind, Darius said, “You weren’t in the cell area when we went to rescue everyone. I had to take a different route to get you out of there. We’re going to meet up with everyone after the storm lets up.” As though it was punctuating his statement, a bolt of lightning blazed outside for a split second, showing her they were in some sort of small grotto. They were back far enough from the entrance, and around a slight curve in the hollowed rock, so that the pouring rain she now heard wouldn’t get them wet. She shivered, pulling the unfamiliar jacket and blanket covering her closer around her body.
After the lightening’s accompanying thunder quieted, Darius continued. “Do you remember being taken to another part of the mansion?”
“Mansion? We were in a mansion?” Flashes of a large, unfamiliar, well-decorated house came to her, but they were mixed with rooms from the palace and vacation homes she’d grown up in. She was having trouble filtering her thoughts and making sense out of it all.
“Yes. In Argentina. I was working undercover in a drug cartel when you and your cousins arrived a few nights ago. I couldn’t let you see me until it was time to rescue you and the others. I was worried you’d give away my cover if you recognized me.”
He was right—even with his thick facial hair, she would have known him immediately and be unable to hide a reaction. But something he’d just said seemed odd to her; however, she couldn’t zero on it. “Where are we now?”
“A cave I managed to find just before the hail started coming down, thank God. From the size of them, we both would’ve been knocked out cold.” He hitched a thumb toward the wall behind their heads. “We’re about eleven clicks—sorry, kilometers—northwest of where we’re supposed to meet the team. Even without the hail, the rain and cooler temperatures were bad enough. I couldn’t risk you developing hypothermia in your condition. The ground was also pretty slippery, and I didn’t want to drop you.”
“You carried me?” Her voice croaked on her words. “How far?”
“Yeah, considering you were unconscious at the time, I couldn’t very well ask you to walk the five kilometers from Diaz’s compound to here.” He stood and stepped around her. “Hang on. Let me get you some fresh rainwater. You must be thirsty.”
Now that he mentioned it, she was parched. Gingerly sitting up, Tahira watched as Darius picked up a huge, green leaf from where it lay on a nearby rock, then strode toward the entrance of the cave. He was wearing black cargo pants, a long-sleeved T-shirt, and hiking boots. She glanced around and wondered if he had a jacket to keep him warm.
As he disappeared around the curve of the rock wall, Tahira assessed her current condition. Under the jacket and blanket, she wore someone else’s sweater, knit shirt, velour lounge pants, socks, and trainers, or as the Americans called them, sneakers. While she would’ve been ripped apart by the press for the awful, fashion-less color combination, the clothing was much warmer than her bikini and wrap had been. The trainers were a half size too large, but she’d survive in them.
As she sat back against the wall, she realized there was something soft and warm folded up behind her. She looked closer and discovered it was a fleece-lined jacket that had pillowed her head as she’d slept. It obviously belonged to Darius, and Tahira’s heart melted a little when she realized he’d given up his warmth and comfort for her. The black jacket she’d been using had probably come from the same place he’d found the other clothes for her. She briefly wondered who they belonged to, but it really didn’t matter. There were many other things to be concerned about.
Wringing her aching hands together, she felt jagged edges along her formerly-manicured fingernails. Slowly, she ran her hands over her arms and shoulders, finding several tender spots. Her face was next, and she hissed when her fingers touched her left cheek and jaw. The aches were almost unbearable. What the hell had happened to her? She struggled to remember but it was all a blur.
She took further stock of her injuries. Her breasts, ribs, back, thighs, and groin hurt. After making certain Darius wasn’t coming back yet, Tahira lowered her hand under the jacket, between her legs, and brushed it over her mound. Pain flared, and nausea roiled. Her body trembled, and she slammed her eyes shut. What—
“Here. Drink this.”
Tahira yanked her hand back, and her eyes flew open. She hadn’t heard him return, holding the large leaf and using it as a makeshift bowl.
“It’s rainwater so it shouldn’t bother your stomach. Open your mouth.”
He eased it forward toward her mouth, careful not to spill any. Tahira leaned forward and parted her lips. Darius gently tilted the tip of the leaf, and cool water trickled onto her dehydrated tongue. It was so refreshing, she greedily drank it all, then glanced up at Darius, her cheeks reddening in the dim light, when she realized what she’d done. “I am so sorry. I should have left some for you.”
The corners of his mouth angled upward. “It’s okay, Tahira. You needed it more than I did, and there’s plenty of rain coming down. Do you want anymore?”
Licking her lips, she shook her head, rattling her still foggy brain. “No, maybe in a little bit, but I really need to . . . um . . . to go . . . uh . . .”
Reading her thoughts, he chuckled wryly. “Well, unfortunately, the ladies’ room is out of order, but you can go behind that boulder over there . . .” He pointed at the large rock against the opposite wall, halfway between them and the entrance to the cave. “. . . and take care of things. I’ll get myself some water while you’re doing that. Just let me know when you’re done.”
“Okay.” While it hadn’t been often in her life when she’d urinated somewhere that didn’t have a toilet, she wasn’t averse to doing it now. Her bladder was ready to burst. She tried to clench her thighs, but a sharp discomfort she felt between them forced her to relax her muscles again. Maybe she’d gotten a urinary tract infection—considering the conditions she’d been in and the limited amount of food and water the captors had given the women, it wasn’t an impossibility.
Holding out his hand, Darius helped her stand and made sure she was steady on her feet before releasing her. She was grateful for his assistance because her head had spun a few times before she was able to right herself again. Now that she was moving, the aches in her body felt ten times worse. She wanted to know what had happened to her but feared the answer. Her mind was in self-preservation mode and wanted a few more minutes before she questioned Darius. She had a deep suspicion she wasn’t going to like his responses.
Stepping behind the boulder, she waited until Darius disappeared from her line of sight. Leaning back against the wall for support, she widened her stance and pushed the waistline of the lounge pants down past her knees. She squatted down and waited for her body to relax so it could relieve itself. When the stream finally started, Tahira gasped at the harsh, hot sting that shot through her. A few tears seeped from her closed eyelids and rolled down her cheek. She clenched to stop urinating but that only made the burning worse.
Her legs trembled from being in a squat position. Tahira opened her eyes and looked down, but in the darkness, she could barely see anything, until several bolts of lightning lit up the sky and the grotto, in rapid succession, followed by cracks of thunder. The brightness lasted long enough for Tahira to make out streaks of dried blood and a milky-white substance on the inside of her thighs.
Make me hard, bitch.
Secada. Struggling. Drugs. A bed. Fear. Force. Pain. Resignation. Darkness.
Tahira turned her head and retched the acidic, watery contents of her stomach. The heinous memories bombarded her mind and senses. Her head swam in a brutal ocean of despair. She’d been v
iolated, in a way no one should ever experience, by that vile bastard. His mouth, tongue, and hands had roamed over her skin, as she’d lain there, unable to move. Unable to protest. Unable to fight. Her treasured virginity had been ripped from her core and tossed aside as if it had been a worthless piece of garbage.
A blood-curling wail of grief was wrenched from her lungs. Her life was ruined. She could never marry. Never have a child. When she met her soulmate, she would only be able to love him from afar. If anyone found out, she would be publicly disgraced.
Her rapist had not only stolen her veil of womanhood, but also her future. Her heart. Her soul.
15
After the improvised bowl was refilled from the pouring rain, Darius retracted his now soaking wet, injured hand and brought it toward his mouth. Damn, that hurt. In addition to a few small puncture marks, the area surrounding the bite mark was already starting to bruise. At least it was his non-dominant hand.
He took slow gulps, making sure he didn’t drink too quickly and give himself cramps. That was the last thing he needed on top of everything else that had gone FUBAR.
Smiling, he let out a small snort. Nowadays, every time the acronym FUBAR came to mind, he thought of a furry Belgian Malinois with big ears and a derpy grin. FUBAR, formerly known as Glock, was a training failure from Trident’s new K9 division—he’d been more interested in being a goofball than a badass. Babs had fallen for the dog and adopted him after he’d been dropped from the last class. His name had already stuck with everyone, and it fit him perfectly, so she’d kept it. He now hung out in the TS garage where his new mom was their mechanic when she wasn’t piloting their Sikorsky MH-X Silent Hawk—a very expensive, stealth helicopter.
Not knowing if his team could hear him, Darius still tried to give them an update through his watch’s transmitter. As soon as the worst of the storm was over, he and Tahira would head out. He hated making her trudge through the rain, mud, and underbrush, but the faster he got them to the orphanage, the better he’d feel. She was going to need treatment—at some point he was going to have to tell her what happened back in the bedroom he’d found her in. She would need to be treated for any possible STDs and be given a morning-after pill in case of pregnancy.
Forty Days & One Knight: Trident Security Omega Team Book 2 Page 9