Somewhere behind her she heard engines. Shit. They were coming after her with the other two vehicles. At least the Jeep could go off road if necessary. The truck and sedan would have a tougher time. For a minute, she thought about taking it off-road, eyeing the jungle around her, but she was pretty sure the fence surrounded the property. Then she’d be a rat in a maze driving in circles with no way out.
Digging through the glove box revealed nothing. Then she saw it. Clipped to the passenger side visor. The garage door opener had been on the driver’s side visor so she hadn’t even glanced at the passenger seat’s one.
Just in time the first gate loomed before her down the hill. It disappeared for a second as she took one of the last curves to reach it. Punching the remote button, she waited, foot on the brake ready to come to a skidding stop if the gate remained closed. She wondered how hard it would be to scale the gate. But it would be impossible to survive a trek through the jungle on foot. That became even clearer when she rounded the corner and spotted two glowing eyes in the bushes at the side of the road.
The gate swung open and she flew through, punching the remote so the gate would close again behind her, possibly giving her a few seconds head start when the people behind her had to open it again.
She still had the second gate at the bottom of the long winding drive. It was about five miles down, if she remembered correctly.
Racing down the road, she racked her brain to remember which way she should turn onto the road once she got there.
After a few heart pounding minutes, the gate came into sight and she punched the remote control. Nothing. She kept pressing it, not taking her eyes off the gate, keeping her foot pressing the gas pedal straight down. Finally, when she couldn’t wait any longer, she slammed on the brakes skidding to a stop, dust kicking up everywhere. She nearly rolled the Jeep, which wobbled a little and then settled back on all four tires. When the dust cleared, to her surprise, she saw the gate swing open. Looking down at the road she saw she’d run over a cable that automatically opened the gate when a vehicle drove over it. It made sense. El Loro was more concerned with keeping people out than keeping people in.
Gunning the ignition and pressing the gas pedal down, she hung a right onto the main road. This felt like the direction they’d come from when they first arrived at the house. For a second, she let herself think of Nico back at the hacienda and felt a mixture of sadness, anger, and disappointment. If she were lucky, she’d never see him again. She’d developed feelings for the man. He didn’t deserve them, but she couldn’t help it.
But those feelings quickly faded. As the Jeep skittered around corners, bumping over the occasional large stick and pothole, Gabriella felt exhilaration. The cold night air was blowing her hair back around her and adrenaline was pumping through her limbs. She’d done it. She was away from the house. Now to get back to the airstrip or to a small town or outpost where she could call for help.
She listened over the sound of the engine for other vehicles, but she didn’t hear anything. She kept glancing in the rearview mirror for lights, but there was nothing.
That’s when she felt it—even before she heard it—a thumping vibration that sent goose bumps down her arms.
A helicopter.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
The moment Donovan lunged for the gunman closest to him, a shout from the doorway above had the Italian man whirling and running up the stairs three at a time.
The door at the top of the stairs slammed shut, but Donovan didn’t hear the lock slide into place.
Meanwhile, the gunman saw Donovan coming and swung the barrel wide. But it was too late. Grabbing the barrel of the automatic weapon, Donovan shoved, pushing the gun and the man behind it, off balance. For a few seconds the two men balanced precariously, scrambling to stay upright before they fell to the ground. They rolled on the ground, both clutching the gun that was between them. They knocked over the bucket, which was sent clattering. They rolled past the man who’d been bit by the spider, who was clutching his neck groaning, sweat pouring off his face onto the dirt floor.
Donovan continued wrestling for control of the gun, kicking and elbowing, yet joined to the man by his grip on the gun. He managed to avoid an incoming head butt, but both men slammed into the wall, smashing shoulders before falling on the ground, which clearly knocked the wind out of both of them.
Out of the corner of his eye, Donovan saw the second gunman crouching down to check on his spider-bitten comrade who was convulsing now.
Then the second gunman stood and aimed the gun Donovan’s way. He was obviously a crack shot or didn’t care about accidentally shooting his colleague because it looked like he was going to fire at the rolling mass of the two men.
Realizing he had only seconds to act, Donovan shifted and maneuvered himself underneath the other man. The man’s look of surprise gave him another advantage. In one fluid motion, Donovan let go of the barrel and instead reached down, cupping the other man’s hand on the trigger. Pressing on the other man’s fingers with all his strength, Donovan squeezed off a few rounds. A barrage of deafening automatic gunfire was accompanied by the other man slumping to the ground, riddled with bullets.
Two down, one to go.
Taking advantage of having his arm in close to the man’s body, Donovan elbowed the gunman in the face. The other man sunk to the ground, dazed but still conscious. But a few seconds later he scrambled toward Donovan tackling his legs so both of them were on the ground. Within seconds both men were rolling around trying to gain control of the gun that was tangled between them. The gunman was gaining control. He was on top of Donovan about to bash him in the head with the butt of the gun when Donovan saw a threat he hadn’t expected. The man who had been bit by the spider was crawling over to his gun. He watched as the man with the spider bite lifted his weapon, aiming it at Donovan’s head.
At the last second, Donovan retrieved an old high school wrestling move and flipped the man on top of him. The bullet meant for Donovan exploded the other man’s head, splattering brain and blood all over Donovan. Scrambling to get further away from the armed man, Donovan was halfway across the room when he realized that firing the gun had taken the last bit of life out of the other man. He was lying back with his eyes wide open staring at the ceiling.
Three men lay dead around him. Donovan eyed them all. One man was close to his build: the man bit by the spider, which was lucky since the other two men had bloodstained clothing. At one point, he spotted the spider high up on the wall by the window. It took a few minutes, but Donovan managed to get the khaki fatigues off the man and change into them. He then stripped all three guns off the dead men, slinging them onto his shoulder by their straps before he scaled the stairs.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Donovan tried the door at the top of the basement stairs. Locked.
Even in his haste to leave, the Italian had managed to lock it.
Or else it was a door that automatically locked on closing.
Donovan thought back. He’d never heard the deadbolt slide shut. Maybe he could pick the lock. This made him instantly think of his wife.
Gabriella was part cat burglar with her lock picking skills.
Rushing back down the stairs, he searched the three bodies on the ground. The first one had a set of keys in his pants pocket.
Donovan fumbled with the keys at the door until he found one that fit. He turned it. The door opened.
He rushed out. He was in a long hallway with terra cotta floors and priceless art on the walls. He recognized a Degas and a Van Gogh. He was in some sort of large house, a hacienda. It was the first time he’d seen it since they’d kept him blindfolded during his one and only field trip out of the basement. Most of the doors were closed in the hallway. He was at the far end. He went through the first door he came to. It was a large kitchen. He went straight through to some French doors that led outside to a giant veranda. Glancing around him, he didn’t know which way to turn or what to do.
/> The three guns he toted on his shoulder clanked loudly.
It seemed like the house was deserted. He started circling the veranda. On one side of the house was a deck area with lounge chairs and tables and further out, a giant pool on a plateau overlooking the jungle below. A tall stone wall seemed to surround the entire property.
As he neared the pool, Donovan recognized that the picture of Gabriella was taken in this exact spot. He ran over to the spot where she had lain on the chair, as if some trace of her might still be there. The realization nearly dropped him to his knees. Gabriella had been here, so close, the entire time?
That’s when he felt her before he even saw her.
He turned.
Monica stood on the veranda watching him.
Her face was filled with sorrow. She looked down as she mouthed the words. “Lo siento.” I’m sorry.
CHAPTER FORTY
The Jeep skittered around a tight corner that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. On the right side, two tires briefly left the ground. Gabriella was able to right the vehicle but not in time to avoid a large Tapir.
In her efforts to avoid the animal she swerved and the Jeep careened off the small lip of raised road and flipped in a giant cloud of dust.
Coughing, Gabriella realized the vehicle had landed on the passenger side and she was suspended by her seatbelt.
Unstrapping, she got out of the Jeep and surveyed the damage. If she could flip the Jeep back over, she could probably still drive it. She gave a few futile pushes to the side of the Jeep trying to right it. But her attempts only rocked the vehicle a little. Not enough to upright it. Gabriella looked around her frantically. The Jeep was useless. She leaned in and turned off the headlights in the hopes that El Loro’s men might drive right by it, but she knew that wouldn’t happen.
In the distance, she heard the thump of the helicopter and her heart stopped for a moment until she realized the sound was moving farther away.
Without the Jeep, it would be a dangerous and long walk to the nearest village or any type of civilization. While this was considered a major highway in this area, it was still a deserted deep jungle road, which most people would avoid in the dead of night. She peered up at the sky peeking through the canopy.
A giant low-hanging full moon made it easy to see in the jungle, but even so, she could see the velvety sky beginning to turn purplish blue.
Morning was coming. Everything would be safer and easier by daylight. Maybe she could hide out in the jungle until morning. Off the ground would be better. She glanced around. Maybe she could find a tree to climb. It would at least give her a slight, albeit extremely slight, advantage if a jaguar came around. But the tree trunks were slick and she remembered the deadly spider that had dropped from a treetop onto her head. And didn’t jaguars sleep in trees or something? Nowhere was truly safe.
The sound of engines made that clear. The noise was growing louder quickly. The Jeep wasn’t far enough off the road. They would see it for sure. She took in the dense jungle, trying to decide what to do and where to hide. But when headlights rounded the corner, Gabriella knew she only had one option.
She ran.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Donovan grabbed Monica’s arm so tightly she gasped.
“Where is she?”
When he noticed that she was biting back tears, he released his hold slightly but still didn’t let go. The scent of her perfume was all he could smell. Once he had buried his face in her neck to inhale that scent. Now it made his stomach churn.
“She left,” Monica whispered, looking around her. “A few minutes ago.”
He heard a helicopter in the distance.
“Where are the others?”
“They went to look for her. Come.” She put a finger to her lips and gestured for Donovan to follow her.
Donovan paused. Why should he trust her when she had been keeping him from his wife for months? He watched her long black skirt sweep the ground as she walked. She stopped and half turned, waiting. He pressed his lips together and started toward her.
She led him around the veranda, down some concrete steps and along a dirt path. As they rounded the corner, there was a small clearing on a level below the hacienda that was primarily taken up by a three-car garage with a terra cotta roof that matched the large house. All three of the large doors were open. The garage was empty.
Donovan grabbed her arm.
“Where did she go?”
Monica shrugged and shook her head. She gently uncurled his fingers from her arm and led him toward a small shed next to the garage. Taking a large circle of keys out of her skirt pocket, she knelt and quickly unlocked it. Inside were three motorcycles. She tossed Donovan a helmet and wheeled one of the bikes out. She reached out and placed the key in his palm, covering it with her hand.
Her eyes pleaded for forgiveness. She handed him a remote-control garage opener.
“For the gate.”
Donovan searched her face for a moment. She was a victim, too. He couldn’t blame her for what had happened. It was larger than both of them. He leaned down and gave her a soft kiss on the forehead.
“Vaya con Dio,” she said. Go with God.
Donovan started the motorcycle.
He was about to lift the kickstand, when Monica grabbed his arm.
“She ... she took the Jeep.”
He was about to gun the motor but stopped and turned to Monica. “Will you be okay here? Are you safe?”
She nodded. He didn’t know if he believed her, but he didn’t have time to wait.
The bike kicked up gravel behind it in a fishtail as he took off down the driveway without a glance back. He opened the first gate with the remote-control Monica had handed him and then raced down the winding road that led deeper into the jungle. His hair blew back and his eyes watered.
When he got to the large gate at the foot of the property it was wide open. He came to a skidding stop trying to decide which way to go. Although the thick jungle canopy blocked most light, there was a tiny sliver of night sky visible. It seemed that the sky to the right was a little bit lighter than the black to the left. He usually had a good sense of direction and something told him that going to the right was the east and meant the coast, which is where Gabriella had probably headed.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Branches and palm fronds tore at Gabriella’s face, leaving bloody scratches that oozed down her cheeks as she ran. The ground was muddy and wet and she sometimes slid as she rounded corners, feeling the water seep into her boots.
Her breath was ragged; she tasted metal and felt as if her heart were going to explode. But she couldn’t stop. The shouting behind her made that clear. The sound of a helicopter growing closer filled her heart with terror. The sky had lightened and was now a hazy gray blue above her. The jungle had come to life with the sounds of birds and insects. Even as she noisily tore through the trees and bushes, the cacophony didn’t pause. The jungle creatures knew she was no threat.
In the distance, she heard a sound that sent a spike of fear through her. It was a large animal grunting and growling. A jaguar. Not close, thank God.
The sun was rising. She no longer had the cover of night to hide her from her pursuers. It didn’t seem possible she could find her way out of this one.
Coming to a river, she looked both ways. It went as far as the eye could see. She shuddered before stomping through it, hoping it wasn’t too deep. Hopefully her splashing would scare off any snakes or other creatures. Above in the trees, she heard the ominous snarling of the Howler monkeys, like a mammoth beast stalking her.
It seemed like they were calling for her captors, alerting them to her hiding spot. She felt something graze the top of her head and then splashing all around. The little shits were throwing some type of small fruit at her.
By the time she splashed to the other side, her thighs were soaked and something had struck her cheek, splattering something sticky along the side of her face. To top it off she fe
lt something squishy on her elbow and plucked away a leech, leaving a bloody trail down her arm.
Now when she ran, the water squished in her boots, seeming to slow her path. She rounded a corner and there was another body of water. An estuary. If she followed it, it should lead her to the sea. At least she now had some sense of which way to run.
The clatter of the birds and monkeys overhead was deafening. She didn’t know if her pursuers were close. If so, she’d never hear them coming.
That’s why when Nico appeared out of the jungle suddenly in front of her, she screamed. He cut it off with a palm across her mouth. She began kicking him in the shins, stomping on the tender spot at the top of his foot where his ankle began. A move that had served her well in her karate class. This time it didn’t work. When he twisted her arm behind her back, she stopped, howling in pain through his dry palm.
He leaned down in her ear.
“Stop fighting me. Come with me. I’m your only hope.”
Her wild eyes met his. She shook her head.
“You have to trust me.”
She stopped struggling.
“They are coming.”
Voices and crashing in the distance convinced her. He let go of her mouth, waiting for her to scream. When she didn’t, he grabbed her hand and ran, dragging her behind him.
She kept pace as they splashed across the estuary. He stopped, looked around and headed to the right, through some dense brush. Within seconds they were on a small dirt path that ran parallel to the estuary. The even ground was easier to run upon, but soon, they were both breathing heavily and loudly. Gabriella’s mouth was dry. She was so thirsty, the thought of drinking out of the estuary seemed appealing.
“I have to stop and catch my breath,” she said, panting.
He stopped and leaned down, palms on his knees. His hair fell into his eyes. He flipped it back and watched her, taking in her heaving chest.
Blessed are the Peacemakers Page 15