When Darius had found the cave over five hours ago, he’d been able to dress Tahira and make her as comfortable as possible. He doubted she’d ever slept on the ground in her life. After shaking the rain off his parka, he’d turned it inside out and tucked it under her head. While the tarp had given them some protection against the cold, damp earth, he’d spooned in behind her, using his body heat, her jacket, and the blanket to keep her warm. While he’d doubted any members of the cartels were in the woods looking for them, he’d remained awake while Tahira had slept, watching over her.
While the storm raged overhead, he’d worried about how much of the drugs she’d been given were still coursing through her system and when she’d wake up. Then he worried about what she’d remember after her mind cleared. He still couldn’t shake the image of her abused body lying on that bastard’s bed. He would give anything to go back in time to a point when he could’ve saved her before it had been too late. His hands clenched, and once again he wished he could kill Secada for a second time for what the bastard had done to the innocent woman.
A billion joules of energy crackled across the sky, illuminating the night, followed by several more streaking bolts that impacted the trees and ground less than a quarter mile away from their shelter. The corresponding cracks of thunder were close to deafening. Standing under the overhang at the cave’s entrance, Darius marveled at the strength of the tempest Mother Nature had summoned. Ever since he was a kid, he’d loved thunderstorms, while his younger brother and sister had hated them. He recalled how, when Levi and Barrie had been eight and six, respectively, he’d tried to convince them it was just God bowling, but they never fell for it.
As the thunder dwindled away, a noise behind Darius had him turning his head to listen over the downpour. “Princess?”
A sharp cry pierced the air, and Darius drew his sidearm as he ran toward Tahira. Rounding the boulder, he stopped short when he saw she was alone—alone and crumbled into a ball where she remained squatting. Her long, black hair hung down over her face, which she’d covered with her hands, but they couldn’t muffle her wails of despair. The curdling stench of vomit, combined with urine, reached his nose. There was only one thing that would cause this kind of reaction from her—she’d remembered. How much, he didn’t know, but she’d remembered enough to know she’d been raped.
Holstering his gun, Darius crouched down. Wary of how she would respond, he kept some distance between them and didn’t reach out to touch her. “Princess?” he said softly.
She didn’t answer him. Instead she rocked back and forth, sobbing and keening. The sweatpants were down past her knees, but between her position, her arms crossed over her lower abdomen, and the dimness of their surroundings, Darius couldn’t see anything that would embarrass her. However, another flash of lightening showed the bloody streaks on her thighs. Damn it. He wished he’d had time to clean her up, but it hadn’t been a priority at the time.
He raised his voice a little louder but kept his tone soothing, as if speaking to a spooked horse. “Tahira? Sweetheart, are you in pain?”
A violent nod of her head morphed into a shake.
“Do you remember what happened?”
Her only response was to cry harder. Each tear that raced down her cheek carved another bit of regret into his soul. Although, by the time he’d found out Secada had taken her, it had already been too late, Darius still felt as if he’d failed her. He’d sworn to protect her and fell short of his goal, something he’d never forgive himself for.
Slowly reaching out, he gently brushed her hair back over her left shoulder. “Tahira, I know there’s nothing I can do to change what happened. I just want to comfort you, if you’ll let me. May I hold you? Can I help you stand so you can pull up your pants? I won’t look. I just want to help.”
She grasped his arm as if it were a lifeline to keep her from drowning in despair. Sobbing, she used her other hand to wipe her nose. When he was certain she was ready, Darius stood and slowly helped her up. Her body trembled as he held her shoulders in support while she pulled the sweatpants back over her slender hips. As soon as she was decent, she leaned into him, threw her arms around his neck, and bawled.
Not knowing what else he could do, Darius tucked his arm under her knees and picked her up. She clung to him as he carried her back to their makeshift bed. Using the wall for support, he lowered himself to the tarp, settling her onto his lap and holding her close. “Shh. You’re safe, Princess, and that bastard will never hurt you or anyone else ever again. Shh.”
Pulling back just far enough to lift her gaze to his face, she stared at him in horror. “Y-You kn-know what . . . what . . .” While searching for whatever words she was looking for, she hiccuped.
God, he hated this. Unwelcome tears pooled in his own eyes as his heart broke for her. His throat grew thick, and he had to force his words past it. “I was too late. I’m so sorry . . .” She wasn’t the only one trying to find the right thing to say. “I—”
“You saw—”
He shook his head, not knowing exactly what she was referring to—it could be either the rape itself or her nude body. Compassionately, he answered for both. “It was over before I got there. I covered you and then grabbed these clothes, so I could get you out of there. I had to hurry. I’m sorry I didn’t have time to clean you up.” Yeah, he was leaving out a lot of information there, but there was stuff she didn’t need to know just yet. Later, after she calmed down, if she wanted more details, he’d tell her as best he could with as little gore as possible.
“Oh, my God! It is true. He—he r-raped me, right? The—the blood?” Before he could answer, she threw her head back and wailed, balling up the front of his shirt with her fists. “Please tell me it is not true! Darius, please!”
Her begging twisted his gut into knots. As much as he wished he could say it never happened, he couldn’t lie to her. His hand ran up and down her back, trying to soothe her. “I’m sorry, Tahira. I’m so sorry. But it’s over. When we get you back to the States, we’ll take you to the hospital to get checked out and—”
“No! You do not understand!” She pushed against his chest—not to get away from him but to emphasize her words. “My life is over—”
“It’s not—”
“It is! I—I can never marry now.” Letting go of his shirt, she buried her face in her hands and cried harder. “I can never marry!”
Confusion washed over him as her words tumbled through his mind. Why would she think she could never get married? He’d never known anyone who’d been raped—at least, to his knowledge—and wasn’t certain if this was a normal reaction so soon after the assault. Pain, grief, disbelief, anger, embarrassment—those emotions he’d expected. But why it would affect her ability to marry was lost on him. “Yes, you can—”
“No!” Dropping her hands to her lap, she took a deep, ragged breath before continuing. “You do not understand our culture, Darius. I will no longer be a—a v-virgin on my wedding night. In—in my country, women can be publicly ostracized by their husbands if they are not pure on their wedding night. I will bring shame to—to my family. To my crown. I will be shunned by our people.”
He was dumbfounded. How could someone blame her, or anyone else for that matter, for being raped? Darius would never understand that whole “she asked for it because of the way she was dressed” or similar bullshit explanation. And any man who was lucky enough to win Tahira’s heart would be nothing but a fucking bastard if he announced to the world she wasn’t a virgin on their wedding night. “But it wasn’t your fault, Tahira.”
“It does not matter, Darius. To many, it will not matter if it was my fault or not. I will be shamed either way.”
Resting her forehead on his shoulder, she sobbed. His T-shirt absorbed her hot tears, which scorched his skin. Darius tightened his arm around her waist and just held her, unable to find any other words to console her. Somehow, after ten or fifteen minutes had passed, she’d cried herself to sleep—although t
he adrenaline crash and the drugs still in her system had probably helped. Darius left her on his lap until pins and needles ran down his legs. Moving slowly, he lowered her to the tarp and tucked his parka under her head again. He covered her with her jacket before stretching out behind her and pulling the blanket over both of them. Spooning her, he gave her what little comfort and warmth he could. He just wished there was something else he could do to help ease her pain.
16
“Tahira? Princess, I need you to wake up. The worst of the storm has passed. We need to get moving.”
She fought to remain sleeping, unwilling to face her new reality, but Darius insisted she awaken. He gently shook her shoulder. “Tahira? I’ll carry you, if necessary, but I’d rather have both hands free if we run into trouble.”
Trouble. Her entire life was in trouble now. How could she return to Timasur and let her father choose her husband? She wouldn’t even be able to choose a man to marry, knowing full well the union would crumble mere hours after the ceremony. And she couldn’t confess to her parents why she couldn’t marry. They’d be devastated. They were undoubtedly worried sick since learning she’d been kidnapped. Maybe Amar or Ian had already contacted her parents to let them know she was alive and no longer in the hands of her captors.
“Princess?” It was apparent from his tone he knew she’d heard him.
Sighing, she rolled onto her back but kept her eyes shut. “I am awake. There is no need to carry me, Darius.”
“How are you feeling? Physically, I mean.”
Because after her breakdown earlier, it was clear she wasn’t faring well emotionally and wouldn’t be for a long time. In fact, she was surprised she’d slept at all without any nightmares. Somehow, she’d found comfort and safety in Darius’s arms. While she expected to feel embarrassed after having told him about her rape and loss of virginity, she didn’t. While he was protecting and comforting her, he wasn’t treating her like a helpless waif. Since the night she’d asked him to call her by her first name, she felt as if he’d been seeing her in a different light. She felt like they were equal. It was similar to what she experienced in Ian and Angie’s presence. While they had to defer to her royal status in public, in private, she was on par with their friends and family members, and it was a feeling she enjoyed.
Tahira blinked until his face came into focus. He was kneeling next to her, concern filling his eyes. She swallowed and tried to keep from crying again. “I am sore all over, but I will be able to walk.”
Nodding, Darius held out his hand. “That’s my girl. You’re tough, and you’ll get through this, but first let’s get the hell out of Argentina, hmm?”
She placed her hand in his and let him help her to her feet, groaning as her stiff muscles protested. Picking up her jacket, Darius held it for her to slip her arms into it. After drawing the zipper up to her neck, she turned to see him pull on his own parka. The large, semi-automatic rifle she’d seen earlier went over that, and she doubted that was the only weapon he had with him. With his dark hair, scruffy beard, and valiant determination, Darius appeared every bit the warrior she knew he would be if danger crossed their paths. He would do everything in his power to get her to safety, and she trusted him with her life.
The last thing he grabbed was the tarp. After shaking the dirt from it, he used a knife to cut a large square from it. After tucking the knife and smaller section into his pocket, he folded the rest of the tarp in half, then draped it over her head and back. “It’s still raining. The drier you are, the warmer you’ll be.”
“What about you?”
A small smile appeared under his facial hair. “After spending half my Navy SEAL BUD/s training in the cold ocean, this is a walk in the park, Princess. Don’t worry about me.” He glanced toward the front of the cave before his gaze returned to her. “I need you to promise me something, though. If I tell you to do anything out there—be quiet, get down, run, anything—promise me you’ll do it without hesitation. I need to know you’ll obey me if things go FUBAR out there.”
His request wasn’t unfamiliar to her. Bodyguard obedience, in times of danger, had been drilled into her since she’d been little. She knew any wavering in her response to their orders could result in herself or one of her guards being hurt, or worse, killed. She tilted her head. “I will do as I am told, Darius, that will not be a problem, but I do have one question.”
“What’s that?”
“What is fubar?”
The corners of his mouth lifted again, and she wished she could see the dimples she knew were there. A low chuckle rumbled from his massive chest. “It’s an acronym often used in the military and law enforcement. It means messed up beyond all recognition, and that’s the polite way of saying it.”
It wasn’t difficult to figure out which word he’d replaced, and she thought it was sweet he’d curbed his language for her—not that she hadn’t been exposed to cursing before, but the people she knew did not use vulgarities in the presence of royalty, especially in public.
“Then you have nothing to worry about. If things go . . . FUBAR . . .” It was a funny thing to say and almost drew a giggle from her. “. . . I will follow your orders immediately.”
“Good. And I want you to drink some more water to stay hydrated. Do you need to go and take care of anything before we head out?”
She knew what he was asking, but she had no desire to urinate again. Not if she had to deal with that burning pain again. Later, she would have no choice, but for now, she wanted to put it off for as long as possible. “No. I am ready.”
Following him to the front of the cave, she waited while he refilled the leaf. He handed it to her to drink, then pulled out the section of the tarp he’d cut off. He rinsed it off in the rain. Stepping outside, he snatched a bunch of leaves, like the one she was holding, from a nearby plant and then cut a section of narrow vine that was clinging to the outer walls of the cave. Bringing everything back to her, he gave her the piece of tarp. “Hold that open for me.”
When she complied, he laid the leaves on top of the tarp, overlapping them several times. Once that was done, he took it from her and held it under the rain again. It finally made sense what he’d done. It was a pouch that would hold water for their journey, since the rain wouldn’t last much longer. Who knew if they’d come across a fresh stream that was safe to drink from?
Folding up the edges, he let the sack fill with water, then closed off the top with his hand. Again, he handed it to her. “Hold it just like that so I can tie off the top.” Using the vine, he secured the improvised flask, then tied it to the belt at his lower back.
Readying his rifle, Darius led Tahira into the rain. This was the first look she had of what was outside their shelter. Tall trees, spotted underbrush, and uneven terrain surrounded them. The sun had risen a short time ago, but the clouds and trees hid it from view. They had to walk down a slight hill before the ground leveled out, and Darius held her hand until they reached the bottom.
“Stay behind me. There’s no beaten path so we’ll have to make our own. Let me know if you have to take a break for any reason, and I’ll find us some cover.”
They silently trudged through the mud and foliage at a slow but steady pace. Tahira estimated it was about forty-five minutes before Darius veered to the right and stopped at a fallen tree behind some underbrush. The rain had stopped approximately fifteen minutes prior.
After giving her some of the water from the pouch, he took a few sips himself then secured it again at his waist. “I have to duck behind that tree over there. If you need to, you can take care of your own personal business here. I’ll call out before I come back.”
A short time later, Tahira had relieved herself, and now she was trying to force the painful flashes of her rape from her mind along with the scalding sensation between her legs. As much as she wanted to get back to civilization and the safety of Timasur or the United States, every step they took brought her toward her unwanted future as a spinster. She tried to
focus on how to convince her father to retract his ultimatum. She could tell him the truth, but she couldn’t bear to pass her pain on to her parents. They loved her unconditionally, but from the moment she told them of her assault, they would forever see her as a victim. She was damaged, and she feared the heartache and pity she would see in her parents’ eyes when they looked at her.
After making sure she was decent, Darius returned. “Here. Eat this.” Her eyes narrowed at the brown and ivory lump he held out to her. “It’s a non-poisonous mushroom native to the area. They grow on tree trunks, just above the ground. I peeled off the surface, so it’s clean to eat.”
With his other hand, he held up a second mushroom, then took a bite out of it. Tahira accepted the large chunk of fungi and nibbled on the meaty flesh. The woodsy flavor exploded on her taste buds, causing her stomach to growl. It had been over twelve hours since she’d eaten her last meal, if it could even be called that. The scant serving of spicy rice and beans had barely been enough to fill her stomach. Right now, the mushroom tasted like the best thing on Earth, and she quickly finished it off. Darius pulled more out of his parka’s pocket, handed her another piece, and gestured in the direction they’d been heading earlier. “We’ll eat on the way. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”
“How do you know we are going in the right direction.”
He tapped his watch with his finger. “This has a ton of features in it—a compass being one of them. I memorized the coordinates to our destination before I went undercover.”
Falling in line behind him as he took off again, she remembered something. “When I first woke up after you rescued me, you said you had been undercover in a drug cartel, yes?”
Forty Days & One Knight: Trident Security Omega Team Book 2 Page 10