It matched what Ty knew of Santiago and spoke to his cunning. And his sense of irony. Ty was careful never to underestimate him. It might have come as a surprise to look at Santiago, but once upon a time like many radicals he’d been to University. He wasn’t some uneducated peasant, but as a child he’d been one and known what it was to go hungry.
As Ty and Santiago talked, Buck stood by the windows casually, looking out now and then as if bored when he wasn’t watching Ty and Santiago. Instead, he looked for any sign of the hostages, listening while Ty and Santiago traded the usual pleasantries as part of the process of negotiation over the weapons. Ty bargained over the price of the guns Santiago wanted. Santiago caressed the semi-automatic rifle in his hands as if were a woman. It was likely he’d love that gun more than any human being or even the cause for which he supposedly fought.
An old maxim said you should be careful of the enemy you fight lest you become him. In the Third World that truism was repeated again and again as the ‘freedom fighter’ often became the next dictator. Sometimes with the help of the U.S. government if it helped with something they needed, like oil. A string of such men had passed over the years, Noriega, Osama bin Laden, Saddam Hussein, while the U.S. government turned a blind eye to some of their activities even while Buck and Ty were expected to stem the flow of arms and drugs.
Buck hated politics. He just hoped they wouldn’t come to support this particular despot.
He glanced at his partner briefly and gave a minute shake of his head. There was no sign of the captives.
For himself, Ty just wanted to find the hostages and get them out if he could. If possible he’d shut down Santiago, too, but for now he just wanted to know where the prisoners were, that they were alive and relatively safe.
Ty said nothing about the kidnapping to Santiago. A gunrunner wouldn’t care about it or the hostages; he would only care about the guns and money.
Finally, they came to an agreement on the price.
“If they’re all the same quality as this,” Santiago said warningly, eyeing him as he held out his hand to shake.
“They are,” Ty said, calmly. “I can guarantee that, Ocho.”
“Very well,” Santiago said, and clapped his hands. “Join me…”
Some of his men brought in food, mostly beans, rice and flatbreads, some questionable beer and the local bootleg booze. All of it was of bad quality, just barely edible. Ty and Buck ate or drank a bit of it all, even though the bootleg alcohol burned like fire.
If the hostages were lucky, they’d get the leftovers, that is if there were any left after the guards and Santiago’s people finished.
Both he and Buck ate appreciatively or they risked pissing Santiago off.
Given the hour, it was too late for them to hike back through the jungle to the village where they’d met Santiago’s men. Ty and Buck had planned to stay.
By the end of the evening Santiago appeared pretty well drunk, but Ty wouldn’t chance anything. The glitter in Santiago’s eyes made him uneasy. None of the guards were drunk, though. They wouldn’t dare.
Not that Ty would have made a move on Santiago until they knew for certain where the hostages were. It would be a sure death sentence for them if they weren’t here.
Neither he nor Buck would get much sleep tonight, either. If they could get around Santiago’s guards, they would try to search the compound for signs of the hostages. None of the other possibilities had panned out. It had to be Ocho Santiago.
“Mr. Bradford,” Santiago said, using the name of Ty’s alter ego, smiling with great good humor. “We’ll speak tomorrow about where and how the delivery will take place. In honor of the success of our negotiations, though, I have left a little present for you in your quarters. I hope you enjoy it. Use it well. Buenos noches.”
With a lift of an eyebrow at Buck, puzzled, Ty said, “Should I say gracias, mi amigo?”
Laughing, Santiago said, “You can tell me yourself in the morning.”
Approaching the door cautiously, Ty nodded to Buck who continued on, under the eye of the watchful guards, to his assigned quarters. Smiling oddly, both of Ty’s guards walked away. Therefore whatever awaited, Ty was fairly certain he could handle. He opened the door and stepped quickly inside, closing the door behind him, instantly alert, aware he wasn’t alone. Sliding sideways along the wall by the door, facing into the shadows, he reached and turned up the flickering oil lamp…
Only to find young Callie Martin, gagged, her hands bound behind her, her eyes watching him warily, standing in a corner of his hut.
Those big beautiful long-lashed green eyes - as green as new grass - had a punch all their own.
She was dressed in the jeans and once-white button-down shirt in which she’d been kidnapped. Someone had thoughtfully unbuttoned her shirt to an indecent level so the curves of her full, tender breasts were clearly visible. Even as young and vulnerable as she was, an involuntary shot of lust went through him at the sight. She was a beautiful girl, her sweet and pretty face still soft and rounded with youth.
God help any man when she gained maturity, he thought, she would be something to be reckoned with then.
For all that she didn’t look too bad, a few bumps and bruises, but nothing major. She was a little thinner than her photograph, perhaps, but he didn’t really know her. Her eyes were wary, but they didn’t hold that shocked and ravaged look rape victims had. Her captors hadn’t touched her. Yet.
So far, at least, he didn’t think they’d hurt her much.
It was obvious that standing in the corner wasn’t exactly how they’d left her, that much was clear by the rumpled bedclothes - such as they were - on the cot.
Green eyes watched him.
The men had come into Callie’s hut, overpowered her, stuck the gag in her mouth and tied her hands behind her back. Terrified, she’d struggled, but it had been no use. They’d dragged her up the hill to this little room.
Santiago had been there, waiting.
Suddenly she’d been really scared.
It was a small room, too small for the number of men in it, the little table and the cot along one wall.
Terror had raced through her although she was careful not to show it or to act too defiant. She remembered what Jeremy had said. If these men saw her as a victim, if she acted like one, they would make her one. She wouldn’t be a victim.
Santiago had looked at her, his gaze running over her body. It was as if he undressed her with his eyes. It made her uncomfortable, but she was careful not to squirm, not to show her discomfort in any way.
In heavily accented English - she’d been very careful not to let them know she spoke Spanish as that was her only advantage - he’d asked, “Are you a virgin?”
The question had shocked her. She’d felt the heat rise in her face.
“No matter,” he said and nodded at his men, who grabbed her arms.
Santiago casually unbuttoned her jeans himself, slid his hand inside them and touched her, his finger probing her intimately. She winced at the rude invasion, and he smiled.
“Intact. Yes. Very good.”
Removing his hand, he’d grabbed her chin painfully. “A man comes. You will do as he asks. You will not speak to him. If you speak to him I will have you punished. Do you understand?”
She’d nodded.
Reaching out, he’d unbuttoned a button of her shirt, examined her and then unbuttoned another before nodding. Cool air brushed over her breasts. She didn’t dare look down.
His men had tossed her on the cot.
As soon as they’d left, she’d squirmed off, falling onto her knees before staggering to her feet and into the darkest corner. She wouldn’t be a sacrificial lamb. There were guards outside, she knew. They wouldn’t let her leave, but that didn’t mean she had to just lay there and take it.
Fear had her heart pounding a mile a minute, but she wouldn’t show that either.
After a long while, the door opened and this man had stepped inside.
Her first shocked thought was, His eyes are so blue, as blue as the sky.
Her second thought was that his hair was truly white, close cut yet there were waves in it, but his face was younger than his prematurely gray hair. Up close he was really gorgeous, if a little world-weary, but there was strength and confidence in that face.
His body was lean, not quite rangy, not skinny, but strong and toned.
For a drug smuggler or something, he was kind of hot… The thought surprised her as she watched him.
Ty looked around the little room.
From the condition of the cot he guessed where they’d originally left her. He also guessed they’d left her clothed only so he could ‘unwrap’ his present himself.
Softly, he swore under his breath.
This would be difficult. He couldn’t exactly turn Santiago’s ‘gift’ away, but neither could he use her as intended - it wasn’t in him. It was even more of a problem in that there was only one bed, only one blanket and she was shivering - whether from fear or the damp air, he didn’t know.
Looking at the clear, quick, intelligence in her eyes, at the wariness in them and thinking of the guards outside the door listening, Ty knew he had to think fast and gain her help and cooperation even faster. Either that or he’d have to frighten her out of her wits for the benefit of the guards…then spend the next few hours trying to calm her back down.
Everything he was about to do was against protocol…but there were those green eyes and the intelligence in them. He remembered what Porter had said. She was smart. Top of her class.
Ty took a chance.
Quickly but quietly he walked toward her, making no sudden moves to startle her, his eyes on hers.
Callie could almost see the lightning fast calculations taking place behind those blue eyes as he walked toward her, studying her purposefully. She watched him just as cautiously.
He didn’t leer at her like some of the men here and he hadn’t grabbed her, yet, so that was all good. His voice when he spoke was deep, incredibly sexy, a sort of a low baritone she could almost feel in her bones.
“My name is Ty. I need you to make some kind of noise,” Ty said, very softly in her ear as he took her by the arms, “a scream or a cry, make it sound as if you’re afraid.”
The words startled her, clearly.
If she didn’t or couldn’t make some kind of noise, he’d have to shake her or grab her, scare her until she did. He didn’t want to do that unless he had to.
Those big eyes looked up at him, puzzled and then she clearly got it. He saw the instant she understood.
Callie made a muffled shriek, obedient to the intense look in his blue eyes…and to the sudden burst of hope inside her.
He smiled, approvingly. “Good girl.”
That approval was the first heartening thing she’d known in a month or longer. His smile made her heart bump a little. His whole face changed when he smiled, years dropped away and he became less cynical, more approachable.
“Just listen,” he said.
Watching him, she nodded.
She wished he’d take the gag out of her mouth. It was as dry as a bone and very uncomfortable, but she listened as asked. At least the worst hadn’t happened. Yet. She just wasn’t sure what he was doing, what he wanted if it wasn’t what Santiago intended.
Ty knew he had to do this while she was still gagged. The wrong noise, the wrong outcry, and they were all done. It was too great a chance to take.
Porter had said she was bright, she’d been accepted at Princeton, a good Ivy League school, but that hadn’t guaranteed sense. Sense was there, though, and sharp intelligence. It was almost a miracle.
Leaning close to her ear, he said, “I’m here to help, but not today…”
Callie closed her eyes. Relief washed through her in a huge wave, followed by confusion. Why not today? Carefully, she nodded to show she understood, letting out a breath through her nose.
Ty could almost see her heart lift and then sink, but a breath of hope glimmered in those pretty eyes.
“We had to be sure you and the others were here. Have you seen the other hostages?”
She nodded.
“Are they here?”
Again, she nodded.
Ty took a breath.
What he had to tell her now would hurt. He hated to do it, but she had to know. It was better to do it while she was gagged than later. And, as much as he hated to admit it, it served him better.
Gently, he touched her face.
“Callie,” he said, “Your father is dead.”
It jolted through her, he felt it.
Although Callie had half known it, a part of her had still hoped.
Daddy.
Now she didn’t hope, not anymore.
Pain lanced through her. Her eyes stung. She fought tears, fought for control. There wasn’t time for this, not if she was to survive.
Ty watched as tears filled her eyes and she gasped behind the gag. A single tear rolled down her cheek. Her face crumpled, but she wouldn’t and didn’t lean into him. He had to hold her there…then the tears and the sobs came, muffled by the gag.
With luck anyone listening outside would think the sounds came from an inexperienced girl being assaulted and not from grief and sorrow.
Against his shoulder, Callie nodded sharply; bowing her head for a second longer in grief and for comfort, but crying wasn’t helping. She clearly knew that.
Ty felt her straighten her slender shoulders and try to take a breath.
It surprised him that she recovered so fast – apparently she’d guessed as much, but guessing and reality were different. He had to admire her resilience. It was a lot to take for a girl of her age and background.
When he eased her back, her eyes were drenched, but accepting.
“I’ll take the gag out in a second,” he said, “but you have to promise me to stay silent for a moment and to keep your voice to a whisper.”
Remembering what Santiago had threatened, for Callie that wasn’t a problem.
Ty was amazed at her self-possession. She was quite a girl.
From her file, he knew she’d grown up all over the world so she wasn’t exactly the usual coddled American kid. Her mother, a volunteer aid worker, had encouraged her to make friends with the native children. By all reports, she had.
Slowly, her eyes on his, she nodded.
Carefully, he picked at the knots of the kerchief tied around her head and freed it. Holding a finger to his lips he carefully untied her hands.
She groaned lightly as her hands and shoulders were freed of constraints.
Callie bit her lip, studying him.
Even under these circumstances with those clear blue eyes and that lean face with the hollows under the cheekbones, he was an attractive man.
“Who are you?” she asked, softly.
Ty looked at her steadily. She kept surprising him. He had to earn her trust, though, and that started with honesty. His cover would almost certainly be blown soon and she obviously knew the price if she were to give it away before he could return.
“My name is Ty Connor, I’m with the CIA, but Santiago knows me as John Bradford,” he said.
That statement was definitely against all protocol.
For a moment Callie looked at him and then she let out a breath knowing what he had done. Trusted her with his life.
As she would have to trust him with hers.
“I need your help,” he said, “if we’re going to get you out.”
The words took her completely by surprise. She looked at him and almost laughed, stifled it behind her hands.
“You need my help?” Callie whispered, fighting back giggles. She’d been the one kidnapped and dragged into the jungle.
Under the circumstances, Ty should have been alarmed, but Callie showed incredible self-control for her age, smothering the laughter. That she could find humor even in this situation astonished him.
Looking down at her, he
nodded. “I do.”
Regaining her self-possession, she nodded. “All right.”
“Do you know where the other hostages are?”
Slowly, she shook her head.
“Not exactly,” she breathed, softly. “Mr. Gallegos is somewhere on the opposite side… I never see Mr. Reeves, I just hear his voice.”
Almost unconsciously, she buttoned up her shirt.
That was something of a relief. It had been mildly distracting. He was only human after all. Speaking about the others by their titles was oddly charming and sweet, though, and a reminder of how young she was.
He desperately wanted to take her away from this and could only hope Santiago would make a more permanent gift of her to him so he could at least get her out of here.
But he doubted it.
“They’re alive?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yes, I’m pretty sure they are. I saw Mr. Gallegos yesterday. He’s in pretty bad shape.”
“They’re on this end of the encampment?”
Again she nodded. “Close to where the man who runs this camp is. Santiago. Especially Mr. Reeves or I wouldn’t be able to hear him from where they keep me.”
Ty just shook his head in astonishment. She was a tough young woman and observant.
Carefully, he brushed the sun-streaked hair back from her brow, looked into her face intently as he cupped it in his hands.
She looked up at him trustingly, but steadily.
“I don’t know how long it will take,” he said, softly, deliberately, “at least a week and maybe more, but we will come back. I promise you that.”
She nodded, her eyes huge and solemn.
In a few minutes Buck would be there. Ty just had to lower the lamp as a signal.
“My partner is going to be here any minute,” he said. “Don’t say anything, don’t make a sound.”
Carefully, he reached to the lamp, lowered the wick until the room was plunged into shadow.
Buck must have been waiting for the signal because he eased the door open and slipped inside within moments.
“Ty?” he said, his voice soft even as Ty gestured.
“Look what I found,” Ty said. “Santiago’s gift.”
Following the gesture, Buck looked to see young Callie Martin squeezed into a corner of the tiny hut, her eyes watching them both curiously.
Nike's Wings Page 3