Blake (Lighthouse Security Investigations Book 5)

by Maryann Jordan

  He knew the dedication of the other Keepers—plus their friendship—would keep them at the LSI compound until he was out of danger. Josh and Clay would be running the security and satellite information that he would need.

  “I appreciate it. I’m gonna need all the help I can get since François is no longer with me. I was relying on him to navigate the river.”

  “Blake, it’s Cobb. I’ll help you once you get on the boat. Josh will be able to send me the satellite information, and I’ll be able to relay it to you. We’ve been studying the maps most of the day, and I’ve focused on the river.”

  He breathed a sigh of relief, knowing how much backup he was going to have. While Josh and Clay were their computer experts, Cobb had an interesting background. A former SEAL, he had also been a Naval Captain. His father was a politician and he had been raised with money, his parents expecting a different career other than military. Knowing that Cobb had naval experience made him breathe easier.

  “I’m getting ready to head as close to the compound as I can and stay hidden during the daylight. I might be able to find out where she is,” he said. “Once it gets dark tomorrow, I’ll get onto the compound and hopefully will know where to go.”

  His phone vibrated and he looked at the screen. “Switching over to unsecure, Josh. Antoine is calling.”

  Switching channels, he said, “Yeah?”

  “I’ve just gotten to the airport, and it’s no problem to get François flown out of here. The old pilot isn’t asking any questions. But what I really called about was to let you know this...my inside contact was just able to send me a quick message. It seems that a redheaded woman was brought into the compound today. She was seen going into the villa and has not come out. This contact’s wife works as one of the cooks and told him that she’s going to be staying at the villa. It seems Boutillier is going to get her to teach English to his sons.”

  With that single piece of information, Blake felt as though he could breathe for the first time since he had watched Sara be dragged out of the shop. She’s alive. She’s in the villa. And I can fuckin’ get her out!

  After waiting until the barest hint of sunlight penetrated the forest, Blake moved stealthily through the thick trees and underbrush as he approached the compound from the rear. Staying in the trees, he was able to move silently and stay hidden. According to the map François had provided for him, the villa was situated on the western side of the compound.

  Finding a tree to climb, he created a perch where he could see over the wall and watch. Noting the guards walking along the top, their rifles slung haphazardly over their shoulders, he almost laughed at the ineffective security. If he had been certain where Sara was located within the compound, he knew he had the skills to go in during the daylight and get her out. Scrubbing his hand over his face, he settled in and continued his perusal, thoughts of her still being alive filling his mind.

  Sara woke early the next morning, her stomach in knots. Eating so much the night before at dinner had not been a good plan, although she had been hungry. She had no idea what the day would bring nor what René expected from her. Wishing she had asked Milo at dinner, she nonetheless climbed from the bed and headed to the bathroom. Right now, staying alive meant pleasing René, so she did not want to displease him on the first day she was supposed to be with his children.

  After quickly dressing in the same clothes she had the day before, she opened the door and was surprised to see there was no guard with a gun sitting in the hall. Instead, an older gentleman was sitting in the chair and smiled at her as she walked out of her room.

  He did not appear to be ready to escort her anywhere, so she offered a hesitant smile in return and walked past him down the stairs. At the bottom, the servants' area was already bustling, and she peeked into the kitchen to see two women cooking and several others going in and out the back door. She wondered if they prepared the food for the workers and guards as well as the family.

  “Sara.”

  She jerked around and was grateful to see Milo walking into the room. Breathing a sigh of relief at the familiar and friendly face, she said, “I was unsure what to do or where to go.”

  His smile was wide, and it was obvious he was glad to see her again. “We only eat meals with the family when invited,” he explained. “We do have lunch with the boys.” He waved his arm toward the table in the room. “We can eat here.”

  He walked over and pulled a chair out for her. She nodded her thanks and sat, watching as he took the chair next to her. Almost immediately, one of the women from the kitchen walked into the room with plates, setting them down in front of the two of them. Eggs, sausage, homemade bread with butter and jam, papaya, and coffee completed their meal.

  Milo immediately dug into his food, and she said, “I’m surprised we eat so well here.”

  He nodded while swallowing. “You will find this is a good place. The Boutilliers want sons to have every...uh, what is the word? Advantage. It is...uh...honor that you teach the boys English.”

  “Your English is actually very good.”

  He blushed, smiling. “I am learning. I can speak English, but not read or write it.”

  Nodding her understanding, she ate in silence, wondering how much to ask Milo. He did not appear to be held as a captive, but more as a trusted employee. She had wondered the previous night if he would be an ally but now had the distinct feeling that he was a Boutillier loyalist.

  As soon as they finished eating, Milo stood. “Follow me. I will show you the schoolroom.”

  She followed him into the tiled foyer of the family side of the villa. Bypassing the living room, dining room, and office where she had first talked with René, Milo led her to a small room off to the side. The room held two tables, several laptops, a whiteboard hung on one wall, and a long bookshelf against another wall filled to the brim with books.

  She was impressed with what René was providing for his sons but hated that they were squirreled away in the middle of the Amazon rainforest, not able to learn another world perspective other than from their father.

  “I suppose they’re being brought up to take over the family...business?” she asked, turning to pin Milo with her stare.

  Not understanding her jab—or ignoring it—he smiled and nodded with enthusiasm. “Yes, yes. They are smart boys and will make their father proud.”

  Offering a stilted smile, she turned and glanced back at the books on the shelves. Most were in French, a few in Spanish, and only a couple in English. The thought hit her that she could end up like Milo…living on this compound in the middle of nowhere, teaching these boys for years as her life passed her by, and she was slowly forgotten. Squeezing her eyes shut, she battled back the tears that threatened to fall.

  “Pierre! Nicholas!” Milo called out, clapping his hands.

  She turned around and watched as the two boys bounded into the room, their eyes bright and smiles wide, tossing out their greetings to Milo as they raced toward her. The boys were cute, and if her situation was not so surreal she would have enjoyed spending time with them. But even as she squatted and offered them hugs she vowed to look for any way to escape. Glancing up at Milo, seeing his pleased expression, she was uncertain if he would become her ally.

  For the first time in her life, it hit her that she was truly all alone.

  Hours later, she was glad that she understood French or she would have been bored out of her mind. For most of the morning, Milo worked on mathematics, language, and science. At least understanding their language, she was able to pretend to pick up some words, which thrilled them.

  Finally, while Milo worked with Nicholas on reading, she was able to sit to the side with Pierre. He knew many words in English, but she went over the alphabet with him, finding him to be a quick learner. After a while, they switched, and she spent some time with Nicholas.

  The four of them went back through the house to the small eating room next to the kitchen for lunch. She was uncertain what type of meat was ser
ved, but it was cooked with rice and beans. There were also bananas and more papaya. Soft cakes covered with cinnamon sugar was their dessert. The boys had excellent table manners even though they exuded bouncy enthusiasm.

  At the end of the lunch, Milo turned to her. “After our meal, we go outside to play.”

  Nodding, she glanced down at her shoes and once again wished for something more practical. She almost asked him where she would get more clothing but snapped her lips shut, refusing to think of how long she might be stuck there. As the boys finished eating, her mind rolled to her predicament, and it hit her, not for the first time since her ordeal had begun, how much better an escape might be if she had flat shoes instead of the wedges. She decided that when the time was right, she would ask him about clothing and disguise her interest as something to be used to play with the boys.

  After a quick bathroom break, she and Milo followed the boys out the kitchen door where they immediately grabbed balls from a basket outside. Not desiring to play soccer, she stood to the side as Milo and the boys ran around the grassy lawn at the side of the villa, kicking the balls between them. Milo did not ask her to participate, so she hoped it was okay if she waited next to the house.

  “Mademoiselle?”

  She startled, turning quickly, and observed one of the guards holding a chair out for her. He set it in the shade, waved his hand toward it, then gave a slight bow as he backed away.

  “Merci,” she replied, grateful to sit. While refreshed from her meal, the events of the past two days were taking their toll on her physically and emotionally.

  She watched the boys play, their game now including a few of the staff. With the warmth of the day, her full belly, and the lack of sleep last night, she felt drowsy. Hearing footsteps, she jolted awake, seeing René and Jean walking around the corner of the villa. René’s eyes were on his sons, a wide smile on his face. Jean was staring straight at her, his lips curved in a smile that chilled her to her bones.

  11

  From Blake’s hiding perch in the jungle at the back of the compound, he had spent the morning watching the Boutilliler’s estate. He noted when the guards changed positions. He noted which building was used as their barracks. He noted that some of the employees came from town, being waved in through the front gate. From what he discerned, the information Antoine had given him was correct. The lower servants’ area of the villa housed the kitchen on the first floor and appeared to have women servants living above.

  The air was hot and thick, and he made sure to drink the water and eat at noon. He climbed from the tree to take care of his business, stretched his body, and made his way around the perimeter of the compound wall. He categorized the guards’ strengths and weaknesses as he observed, grinning at the obvious weaknesses, being sloppy and derelict in their duties.

  Coming to the edge of the forest, he could see that there was a fifteen-foot clearance next to the wall. Staying in the shadows, he watched as a guard walked the perimeter of the wall. The guard was not a large man, and his weapon was slung on his back in a casual hold, obviously not expecting any problems. Moving through the forest, he could see that the guard walked until he met up with one of the others, and they stood, laughing and talking for several minutes.

  Blake was aware that some of the drug lord compounds in Mexico and other countries were heavily guarded, but it appeared that deep in the Amazon the security was much lighter. He could see the front gate, but the two guards there were also in casual conversation, leaning against the wall while smoking.

  After walking the perimeter, he moved back to his tree perch and heard the sound of children’s laughter coming from the other side of the wall. Once situated, he looked over and was stunned to see two boys, a casually dressed man, and two guards running around the lawn kicking the soccer ball…with Sara sitting in the shade. Sara! Thank God! His heart beat faster seeing her alive. His eyes devoured her, wanting to take in every nuance.

  She occasionally clapped and called out the names Pierre and Nicholas, and Blake could tell by the boys’ exuberance that she was calling their names.

  From a distance, it appeared to be a simple domestic scene, but when he lifted his binoculars and focused on her face, he could clearly see her smile did not reach her eyes which had dark circles underneath, and the tension lines around her mouth were tight.

  Rage clawed at his gut, and he clamped his mouth shut to keep the primal roar under control. Counting slowly in an attempt to bring forth calm, rational thinking, he forced his mind to settle on the fact that she was out with the children. If she was being kept in the Boutillier villa to help care for his children, then he prayed she was safe. At least until I can get her out tonight.

  Two men dressed in slacks and collared shirts walked around the side of the building. One smiled widely, calling to the children, who, in turn, referred to him as ‘Papa’. That must be René.

  The man next to him was so similar in looks that Blake assumed he was the brother, Jean. Watching the scene in front of him with his binoculars, he saw that Jean’s gaze was not on the game but on Sara. As soon as she looked around and spied the two men, her back straightened, and her lips tightened into a thin line. Fuckin’ hell. Blake knew instantly that was the man most dangerous to her.

  His hand tightened into a fist, and he knew if Jean laid a finger on her he would not hesitate to leap over the wall in broad daylight, unleashing his arsenal to protect her.

  Just then, two immaculately dressed women appeared from around the corner. One moved toward René, smiling at the boys playing as well. The other stalked toward Jean, halting his movements toward Sara.

  Good. It looks like his wife knows he has a wandering eye and can hopefully keep him under control for the day.

  Blake could no longer pretend that this mission was like any other. He may have only known Sara for a short time, but his heart was involved. As a friend or more, he knew she was someone he wanted in his life. Tonight. I promise, Sara, I’ll get you out tonight.

  Sara stiffened the moment she saw Jean looking at her and held her breath, hoping he was not going to speak. Her hopes were dashed as she saw him turn and begin walking toward her. The boys shouted in victory, and she was glad for the diversion, looking out at them and clapping once again.

  Hearing more voices, she turned to see Louisa and Martinique walking around the corner, Louise’s gaze warm as she cheered her sons and Martinique’s glacial glare as she spied her husband walking toward Sara.

  Uncertain how to diminish a possible unpleasant domestic scene, she was relieved when Martinique stalked toward her husband, stopping him before he made it over to Sara. She spoke in rapid French, fuming at her husband for looking at the servant. He growled at his wife, but René’s voice cut through their marital spat, and both of them walked back over to René and Louisa.

  Sara sagged back into the chair, unable to hide the relief on her face. Her attention was diverted toward the wall at the back of the compound, a guard walking along the top, stepping smarter and looking sharper now that René was nearby. Her gaze drifted beyond the wall to the trees of the rainforest, and her breath caught in her throat. She saw nothing but tall trees growing so close together they created their own green wall, and yet...it was as though the forest had eyes. The strangest sensation that she was being watched moved through her.

  Blinking, she saw nothing but could not stop the unsettling feeling slithering through her. Milo called to the boys, telling them that it was time to go back into the classroom. She jumped to her feet, offering Pierre and Nicholas a nod as they ran off the field. She turned to follow Milo, her gaze once more drifting to the forest, seeing nothing, but feeling…something. As she walked into the house, the hairs on the back of her neck stood and she hurried to catch up.

  Telling Milo that she would join them soon, she hurried through the foyer and servant’s eating area to the stairs leading to the women’s bedrooms. She needed a bathroom break but had no idea where to go other than her own facili
ties. Stepping into her room, she let out a sigh of relief. It was hard to imagine she now found this room to feel like a safe haven. She quickly used the toilet, washed her hands, and then took a moment to brush her hair.

  Hesitating in the bedroom, she sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. She walked to the window and looked out. Her gaze searched the jungle, once more, but there was nothing to see other than endless trees beyond her prison walls. I’ve got to get away from here…but how? No answers came to her, but realizing she had been gone for several minutes, she hurried back to the first floor. Crossing the tiled foyer, her feet stuttered to a halt as Jean walked around a corner and stopped right in front of her. She stared up at him, her heart pounding in fear as a smile slid across his face.

  He lifted his hand and ran a finger over her cheek. “Belle.”

  Shaking her head slowly, she stepped back. “No…please, no…”

  He moved forward, stalking his prey. “You will soon love my touch. I can make things very good for you here.” He leaned forward, but the sound of sharp footsteps on the landing above had him retreat, a scowl on his face. “Soon,” he whispered. “Make no mistake…I will have you.”

  Her body quivered as shakes overtook her, her breath barely leaving her lungs. She watched as he disappeared into the study, unable to force her feet to move. The continued sound of footsteps coming down the stairs jolted her into action, and she sprinted toward the classroom.

  As she entered, Milo looked up at her, a question in his eyes, but she shook her head and walked directly to one of the chairs, sinking gratefully as her legs gave out. Tears threatened, but she refused to give into the urge to wail in front of the boys. Swallowing thickly several times, she managed to gain control over her rattled emotions, but fear still snaked through her.

  The afternoon was spent much like the morning, only this time she gave Milo some assistance with his English as well. He was young but university trained, and she wondered how he ended up being the private tutor to two boys in the middle of the Amazon. She had no idea what business René was in but had no doubt that to make the kind of money he exhibited in this area of the world involved something illegal. And she was not so naïve to not assume it was possibly drugs.