Izza jumped up and was back in a minute with another cup. And she was chatty. “I cut the rabbit meat into pieces. Some of it’s drying on a flat rock, but I have to keep a close eye out. There’s a coyote sneaking around our cave. I don’t want him to steal our food, but he keeps coming back. I named him Boomerang.”
She held Connor’s head up so he could take another sip of the warm broth. “The skins are drying. Maybe you can find a use for them when you’re feeling better.”
He looked at her smiling face. Izza was the most beautiful woman in the world when she was kind. He felt like a fool, ready to forgive her the first minute she was decent. What a sucker. “The soup is very good. Thank you.”
She wiped his mouth again. “You need to rest. You’ve had a couple of very hard days.”
Connor closed his eyes and faced reality. I’ve got to be dreaming. This can’t be real.
The next days blurred together. One moment Connor wanted Izza to come lay with him, but then she’d pour more of that satanic poison over his wound, and he’d wish she’d fall into the deepest darkest hole and never be seen again.
He slept, only to wake to the gentle sound of Izza humming outside the cave. It was a lovely sound to a dying man’s ears. Holding very still because he had no energy to move, he closed his eyes, content to listen to his heart beat in time to the melody rising out of her throat. The evening breeze through the cave soothed his weary body.
He opened his eyes to four Indian maidens. Fire grated up his throat only to drip over him until it became more shroud than breath. And still they filled the inner sanctum of his deathbed, hovering over him like vapor. And mingled amongst their ghostly shapes was Izza. More smoke than woman, she entered the cave, humming softly as she brought a light and a basin.
Connor had no strength to turn away, so he watched through eyes too weary to decipher shadow from truth. She knelt with her back to him. The lovely maidens circled her, chanting softly when she pulled her tank top off, folded it and set it aside. Izza had lovely olive-colored skin, her back so wonderfully strong and supple. Her slender waist tucked at her beltline, and he very much wanted to see the rest of her. Her hips. Her belly. Her baby bump.
Connor reached for her, but she didn’t see him. Instead, Izza proceeded to wash her body. The maidens fussed in the quiet murmurings of women and girls at work while Izza hummed along with them. Her skin glistened with the soft light of the candle she’d brought with her. When she smoothed the damp cloth down her neck and over her breasts, she sighed. But when she reached her belly, she began to sway and the maidens swayed with her. The tenderest lullaby filled the cave.
The words made no sense, but the time for logic was gone. Connor recognized the truth. These women were spirits come to bless his daughter, not him. They’d come to take his life, a fair trade in exchange for hers, the tiny child in Izza’s belly. That she might live. That Izza and she might live.
And that was enough. Izza’s tiny light cast shadows across the walls of the cave. His eyelids grew heavy. He’d done all he could. Killed that Izza might survive, his daughter, too. A man cannot want for more. Life for his woman and child was the best gift to leave behind. The best legacy. His heartbeat slowed. He breathed his last breath.
The maidens raised their hands over their heads in a sign language only he seemed to understand.
Rest easy, Connor. The Great Spirit is in everything.
A light breeze brought refreshing air from the dark night beyond the cave. A man knows when it’s his time to go. The lovely apparitions signed along with the lullaby of Izza’s heart to her child.
Listen wisely, Connor. Mother Earth has named us all. Wind. Fire. Earth. Sky. We are the same and one.
Their arms lifted in heavenward supplication. He smiled. They were beautiful, their soft feminine curves and sensual contours inviting. They swayed around and over him. Through him.
Know, Connor. Life flows in one continual round. Partake. Breathe deep. Let go.
He did. Just stopped holding on. Just stopped believing in the ways of mortal man. A wave of celestial calm lifted him from the floor of the dingy cave. The grime and sweat from too many days of misery slipped from his battered, naked body. Like a well-used garment, it fell softly back to earth, an unnecessary impediment for the journey ahead. With gentle hands and welcoming arms, the maidens enveloped him in divine synchronicity until he too was part of their dance toward home. Toward—
“Connor.” An angel had just spoken, shattering the dream.
The dance jolted to an end. All of the lovely maidens vanished into desert dust and smoking sage. He crashed to earth, back into the husk of his damaged body once more. For some ungodly reason, he wanted to cry, suddenly bereft of their sweet promise to be free from the agony of living. Pain sprang awake inside his body once more. He didn’t want to stay. He didn’t want to live.
“Connor,” the angel’s voice called to him, only it was Izza, not an angel, leaning over him and calling him back to earth. The saddest black eyes rained the sweetest shower onto his parched lips. Burning sage filled his nose with a profound sense of peace while her soft whisper breathed an ancient blessing called truth in his ear. “Don’t die, Connor. I lied. I don’t want to live without you. Jamie’s gone. I can’t lose you, too. Please don’t go. Please stay.”
Cool hands rested on his brow, weighting him solidly to dirt. To life. To—Izza.
He decided to stay. And he slept peacefully.
“You up for another visit to the county jail?”
“He’s ready to talk?” Alex pulled his suit jacket on even as he closed his hotel door and juggled his cell phone against his shoulder. It had been a couple days since the failed attempt to negotiate with Ramirez. Leave it to the arrogant man to demand an evening visit with the Utah State Governor. He really did think he was important.
“Should be waiting for us in interrogation by now. Pick you up in five,” Tom said.
The governor’s car met Alex at the curb. He climbed in to see Tom in the driver’s seat again.
“A man could get used to this,” Alex chided.
“What? Curbside service?”
“No. Having a state governor for a chauffeur.” Alex smirked right back at Tom. “How’d Ramirez sound?”
“The last time we spoke, he acted like some high and mighty king granting us an audience. Tonight he sounded tense. Pressed for time. Kind of rushed.”
“I hope we get something useful out of him tonight.”
“Yes, it’s not often a man asks the guy who destroyed his drug business to save his family. What do you think is really going on?” Tom steered his car into the evening traffic.
“Two things. First, Ramirez saw something in the photos Mark sent. Second, he didn’t know my agents were abducted until I told him. That was news to him. I’m sure of it.”
“You don’t think he planned to make an example of them like he did the DEA agents?”
“No, he doesn’t know where Connor and Izza are anymore than I do.”
“Then who has them?”
“Not Ramirez.”
“I sure didn’t expect him to ask you to save his children,” Tom muttered. “Didn’t see that coming.”
Alex watched the city scenery go by, the haze of smoke from the wildfires still heavy in the air. He had two agents caught somewhere between the DEA’s need-to-know embargo on truth and the cartel’s outright deceit. Nothing was what it seemed. “I’ll tell you something else I didn’t see coming.”
“What’s that?” Tom Baxter asked as he pulled up and parked in front of the county jail.
“He never asked me to save his wife.”
Connor did feel better in the morning. In fact he felt so much better that he was awake before Izza. It took him a few minutes to get moving, but sitting outside the cave and watching the sunrise spread across the eastern horizon helped. It was a beautiful world.
And he had his bearings for the first time since they’d been abducted. Their cave fa
ced east. The rabbit snares were set to the north, down the incline from their cave where the sagebrush grew extra thick and tall.
Izza had been busy. Six rabbit skins lay across the rocks around the cave entrance. She’d become quite the provider during his illness. A supply of hand-sized stones was stacked near the granite chair. Plus she’d built a fire pit. The battered old coffee pot sat on the center rocks of the pit, waiting for water and heat. A supply of all sizes of branches was bundled against the outcropping of granite they called home. It was the barest bones kind of camp, but it had saved his life. And hers, too. And she’d done it alone, plus took care of him in the process.
Who’d have thought? Izza Ramos: hunter, gatherer, nurse, warrior, and expectant mother all rolled into one. Hmm. But where was she getting the water? And it was good, too, not full of mud, silt or one shred of string algae. That’s one question she’d have to answer. He stood, testing his legs as well as the wound at his side. Much better.
But that was enough activity for the frail old man he felt like. Making his way slowly back to his corner of the world, Connor settled onto his back and folded his arms behind his head. The cave was enough for now. Drawing in a long slow breath, he was content just to hear himself breathe. Glancing across the cave floor, he caught sight of Izza. He knew it then.
Somehow they would manage. They’d survive. Together.
The scene that met Alex and Tom inside the jail was another surprise altogether. Normally an orderly place of business, it was in turmoil when they opened the entrance door. Paramedics rushing headlong to the interrogation room with a gurney pushed them to the side. Alex and Tom followed on their heels. It was a sorry sight. Ramirez lay on the floor in the throes of a seizure. A sheriff knelt next to him performing chest compressions while the paramedics scrambled to save the life of the man in crisis.
What the hell happened?” Alex barked.
The sheriff looked up, acknowledging the Governor with a nod before he responded to Alex’s question. “Don’t know, sir. I brought him down for interrogation and had just secured the prisoner’s shackles when he started choking. At least I thought he was just choking, but then he started foaming at the mouth. He seized and blacked out. When he stopped breathing, I started compressions.”
Frothy white foam oozed from Ramirez’s open mouth, his skin chalky, and his eyes wide-open and unseeing. The paramedics hoisted him onto their gurney. Just as they wheeled him past Governor Baxter and Alex, Ramirez lurched under the restraints that held him. One hand snaked out wildly. He clutched Alex’s sleeve, his eyes roaming around the room. “Stewart! Stewart!”
The medics halted when Alex grasped Ramirez’s twitching hand. “I’m here, Miguel. What do you need?”
Ramirez coughed bloody foam. “Stewart!”
“I’m right here. What do you want from me?” Alex asked again.
Tears of blood ran from the man’s swollen eyelids. His voice more snarl and spasm than voice, he wrenched Alex closer. His final words hissed out of him. “She… she lies-s-z-z-z.”
Nineteen
Connor spent the next two days sleeping. Izza visited often, and every time she did, he was more amazed. Their world had changed. Everything she did seemed kinder, friendlier. But on the third day he was sick of being sick. Rising early, he felt full of energy, shaky maybe, but energy nonetheless. The fever was gone and he needed to get out of the cave.
Connor walked the short distance to the snares without any trouble. One rabbit lay strangled and dead. He unwrapped the wire and plucked the snares from what had proven to be a very productive hunting ground. He was glad for that moment of clarity when he’d remembered snaring rabbits as a teenager with his dad. This one thing might just have saved their lives.
Still, it was time for another location. After another short walk he’d moved the two snares further south and set them farther apart. The sun was warm. By the time he made his way back to the cave, a fire crackled under the coffee pot full of water, but Izza was nowhere in sight.
He wished for a cup of coffee. That would be a very nice way to start the day. Instead he set to work cleaning the meal. In no time at all, the rabbit was ready for roasting. He skewered the bunny with an old iron rod Izza had found, and before long, breakfast sizzled on the spit.
“You’re feeling better.” She observed as she rounded the corner of their cave. With her dark hair pulled back in a fresh ponytail, there was no other word for it. She looked great.
“Thought I’d fix breakfast. For a change” He studied her stance, not sure how she’d feel about him being mobile again. It hadn’t made her too happy a few days ago.
“How’s your side?” she asked.
“Better.” He nodded toward the pile of rabbit skins. “You’ve become quite the hunter.”
That made her smile. “You’re better at it than me. I’ve only caught one rabbit a day. We might need to try another location.”
Connor pointed to where he’d re-posted the snares. “Already did. See that flat rock over there?” Izza leaned toward him to follow the direction of his arm, her hand at his elbow. A jolt of tingling warmth radiated up from the casual contact. For some really stupid reason, his heart skipped a beat. “If we can find more wire, I’ll set more snares.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Wouldn’t you like to eat something different for a change?”
“Sure. You found a grocery store nearby that I don’t know about?”
“Come on. I’ll show you.” Izza took his hand. Again that same jolt sizzled up his arm. His breath caught, but it was her excitement that made him smile. She pulled him around the backside of their rock pile home. She’d found a desert tortoise, a big old lumbering fellow that stared up at him with black beady eyes.
“Aw, I can’t kill that.” He petted the crusty reptile’s round head. “Let’s give him a name. How about Homer?”
“Name or not, I can kill it.” Izza had the sharpened stone in her hand, ready to do the deed. Hunger had brought a whole new reality to their lives.
“Okay then.” Connor stepped back and folded his arms over his chest. “Turtle soup it is.”
She clutched the tortoise’s head in her hand. She pulled its neck all the way up. Homer protested, pulling his head into his shell, but Izza had anticipated that move. She dug her nails into his wrinkly neck skin and pulled his head back out. The contest was on. Tortoise hide had to be tough. Izza was tougher, but the real outcome depended on that knife-like stone in her hand. Could it inflict enough damage to bring this old fellow down?
Connor rolled the knot out of his shoulder. The tortoise struggled to pull its head into its shell, but the more amusing scene was playing out on Izza’s face. All that determination was gone. She probably could’ve killed the old guy before she’d thought about it, but now that she’d looked into its eyes, she wasn’t nearly as cocky. At last, she huffed out a big breath. And then another. Finally she tossed the makeshift knife to the ground and let the tortoise go.
Homer ducked his head into his shell where he was safe from Izza.
“Damn it. I can’t kill it either. Give it a name.” She plopped down on the ground beside Homer and whined, “I’m hungry, Connor. I’m hungry all the time.”
He crouched beside her and patted her knee without thinking what the intimate gesture might mean to her. “Me, too. Maybe with two hunters in the family, we’ll do better now. You think?” She was comfortable to be around this morning. It was easy to forget how prickly a cactus she could be.
Izza sniffed at the sizzling meat on the spit. “I see you found my rotisserie skewer?”
“Yeah, but where are you getting all the water we’ve been drinking? We’re in a desert, for Pete’s sake.”
Her eyes lit up. “I’ll show you.” She waved him back into the cave and the dark tunnel beyond the little area where they’d been sleeping. When they’d gone maybe twenty feet past the end of the light, she stopped. “Listen. Do you hear it now?”
Connor cocked his head.
The smallest dripping sound reached his ears.
“Smell,” she ordered in her very drill-sergeant way.
He inhaled. His tender nose picked up the scent of moisture and wet stone.
“If I had a flashlight, I’d show you, but I’ve felt it. The water runs down the wall back here and into a hollowed out rock. It’s not very big, and it’s only an inch or so deep, but it tastes pretty good.” She sounded pleased with herself.
“Hmm. Survival. Evasion. Resistance. Escape.” Connor cited the four elements of their S.E.R.E. training on his fingers. “I think we’ve aced the survival part.” He took a chance and hugged her against his side in the dark. “You did good.”
She didn’t pull away. “I found the water the very first day. You were lying out there in the sagebrush, and I was checking around this cave, and... and.... I was going to leave you and save myself.”
“Oh. Okay.” That confession surprised him, but it was missing the usual inflection of radioactive hostility.
“I mean I was going to save myself and the baby,” she clarified. He didn’t say anything as she rattled on. “I didn’t think I’d live the first day anyway. I mean, I was dying of thirst, and it was so hot. You were shot, and I was hurt and....”
Connor waited. She was a lot more talkative in the dark.
“And then I found this cave and smelled the water.”
He felt her sigh.
“And then I knew I couldn’t leave you,” she whispered.
“I do remember that first drink,” he said quietly. “I thought I was dreaming.”
“I didn’t have any bottles then,” she said. “I used my shirt. It’s all I had, so I soaked it and carried it back and forth to give you a drink until I knew for sure you were going to live.”
He didn’t know what to say. Wow. He’d come damned close to dying. He gave her shoulder another small squeeze before he turned back to the mouth of the cave. She followed.
“Yeah. You were a mess, blood all over your face and pouring out of your side. And you didn’t want to move. I had to kick your butt to get you inside the cave in the first place.” Again she chatted like they were old buddies, filling him in on all the events he’d missed.
Connor (In the Company of Snipers Book 5) Page 19