She curled against the wall where she could hear Manuel sleep. Though he was trapped like her, he was a lifeline, letting her know she wasn’t alone. It helped and soon her body gave out and she couldn’t fight off the urge to close her eyes.
“Amelia.”
Her heart pounded, hearing her name from a deep accented voice, one she would recognize anywhere. Wyatt. He was here to save her. She couldn’t contain her smile. “Hi.”
She could hear the return smile in his voice, “Hi, yourself. What’s up, love? Where are you?”
She blinked, glancing around the cramped cell. “I don’t know. I’m in an underground prison. I was kidnapped.”
His voice was a deadly rumble. “Did they hurt you?”
“Not really. They knocked me out so my head’s sore, but otherwise, they’ve left me alone.”
“I’ll still kill them for touching you,” he vowed. “Can you describe where you are so I can find you?”
“I would, but I don’t know. I lost consciousness. I woke up locked in a cell.”
“Are you alone?”
“I am now. There was a man here with me, a German, but they took him away.” She left out the part about the man attacking her. “There is a man in the cell next to mine. Manuel. He’s keeping me company.”
“How long have you been there?”
“I’m not sure. I went to the village to deliver the baby the same day I landed. The labor was tough, and it took all night. I was abducted on the way back. I’m not sure how long I’ve been here.”
“What about the men who took you? Is there anything about them that might give me a clue to their identity?”
“No. They speak Spanish. That’s all I can tell you.”
“It’s not much, since most of the continent speaks the same language, but I will find you, love. Count on it.”
“I know you will.”
“Stay strong and I’ll be there soon.”
“Wyatt?”
“Yes?”
“I…” She paused. She’d almost blurted out her feelings. Telling him she loved him in a dream was weird. “Be careful,” she improvised.
“Always, love. See you soon.”
A sense of calm settled over her and she fell into a deep slumber.
Chapter Six
Wyatt jerked upright, the dream he’d just endured so real his heart still pounded in his chest like a thoroughbred sprinting down the home stretch. Amelia was in trouble. He could feel it in his bones. The dream quickly faded when someone pounded on his door.
He used to share an apartment with Sawyer Oldham, but now his buddy lived with his wife, the love of his life, Harlow Duquesne, the granddaughter of the President of the United States. Man, those two could be a commercial for happily ever after. Sickening, really. But that meant whoever was using his door like a punching bag was there for him.
“Son of a…” Mumbling under his breath, he tossed the covers aside and rose from the bed in his sleeping attire—his birthday suit. He almost answered the door stark naked. It’d serve the interloper right. But at the last minute, he grabbed a pair of sweats off a chair and stepped into them as he headed to the other room.
“Hold your damn horses,” he called out. “I’m coming.”
His mouth dropped open when he glanced at the clock on the stove. Five in the morning. If this wasn’t a dire emergency, someone was asking for it. He was usually an early riser, but he’d been sleeping later to let his body heal.
He checked the peephole, something he’d never have done before the compound was infiltrated a few short weeks ago. It was virtually impossible to breach the security around the facility, even more so now that they’d taken extra steps to make sure it never happened again. Hell, he usually left the door unlocked. If one of his coworkers wanted to come in, he welcomed them with open arms. Just not at five in the freaking morning. He blinked at the sight. “The hell?” He jerked the door open. “Kayla? What’s wrong?”
Kayla Hepburn, his drop-dead gorgeous coworker was standing before him in a pink workout top and black bicycle shorts, her light brown, sun streaked hair secured into a high ponytail. Even without a stitch of make up on, she was breathtaking. A huge smile lit her face, showcasing perfect white teeth and dimples in her smooth, flawless cheeks. Her red Nike Air Vapor Max Flyknit shoes made no sound as she danced in place. “Let’s go, big guy. I’m your designated therapist until Amelia returns. She made punching motions with her arms like she was Layla Ali or something.
Wyatt shook his head, positive he hadn’t heard her correctly. “Excuse me?”
“Don’t pretend like you didn’t hear me, Holly. Put on your workout clothes and get your ass moving.”
He shoved the door closed and turned back for bed. Unfortunately for him, Kayla was quicker, sticking her foot inside before he could shut her out.
“You’re not getting off the hook that easily.” She elbowed her way inside, ignoring the menacing scowl he aimed at her. “Amelia deputized Maggie and me, and she provided the regiment she outlined for you. Maggie and I drew straws and, sadly, I lost.” She shook her head, looking genuinely upset at the prospect. “So I have to take the first shift. I’m not about to let Amelia down, so man up, Hollister.”
Man up? He narrowed his eyes at her. He might have a foot on her and a solid one hundred and ten pounds or so, but she looked like a mighty warrior that no sane soldier would dare go up against. “Listen, sweetheart, I may or may not have imbibed some very excellent scotch from a fine distillery in Scotland last night and I may or may not have gotten to bed at a reasonable hour.” Not, being the operative word. “I’m not feeling the greatest. My head’s foggy and I need sleep.” He’d been drinking to forget about the men and women lost in the explosion. At first, the drugs Amelia pumped into him while he recovered kept the nightmares at bay. But he’d quickly weaned himself off them. Then Amelia had kept him company, falling asleep beside him. With her gone, there was nothing to stop the visions in his head, complete with sound effects. He winced.
Maybe that was why he’d dreamed Amelia was in trouble. His subconscious superimposed her image over one of the victims inside the hangar.
“I’m sorry, Wyatt, I am,” Kayla said with what he was pretty sure was full honesty. “We’ll go slow but I’m not leaving without you. The quicker we get this over, the quicker you can come back here and sleep the day away.”
He sighed, defeated. “Fine.”
Her feet started dancing again and she was pretending to box with the column supporting the bar in the kitchenette. Entirely too much energy. He’d be having a cross word or fifty with Amelia when she returned. He was a grown man. He didn’t need a keeper. Apparently, she disagreed with him. Having both Kayla and Maggie gang up on him made him want to fall to the ground and weep like a baby.
An hour and a half later, Wyatt nearly gave into the tears. He’d collapsed on a black padded mat with his arms outstretched, gazing at the ceiling. His entire body was twitching from a killer workout and his clothes were soaked with sweat. He’d only thought Amelia was a frustrated drill sergeant. She had nothing on Kayla. The woman was pure evil, making him work past his limits, all with a dazzling smile on her face.
He was pretty sure he hated her.
A head hovered over him. “You still breathing, Hollister?”
He scowled at Noah Addison, or at least he tried to. He wasn’t sure his face muscles were working. “Bugger off.”
Noah chuckled and held out a hand to help Wyatt to his feet. He was afraid he wouldn’t be able to stand, and the whimper was just plain embarrassing, but his legs held. Now he just had to force them to convey him to the showers.
“How are you feeling, Wyatt, really.” The concern on Noah’s face wiped any sarcastic remark he had prepared from his mind.
“I’m better. I could go back into the field tomorrow.”
“Well, give yourself some time,” his friend said, slapping him on the back, causing Wyatt to stumble forward a couple of st
eps. That never would’ve happened BTB. “I know you’re sick to death of us thanking you, but we’d be worried about you no matter what. We care about you and love you, bro.”
Oh, hell to the no. Those couldn’t be tears stinging his eyes. He was just tired. That was all. Or sweat. Yeah, sweat from his workout trickled down into his eyes. “Thanks.” He averted his eyes in case Noah got the wrong idea and thought he was crying. He wasn’t. Dammit.
A flash of pink out of the corner of his eye had him straightening to his full six-foot four-inch height. He jabbed a finger. “Come near me and I won’t be responsible for my actions.”
Kayla held up a hand in surrender. “Calm down, big guy, I’m just bringing you one of my famous energizing smoothies.” With a blinding smile, she held out a cup filled with juice an intriguing shade of purple complete with a fat red straw.
He made no move to take it from her hands. The woman had just subjected him to ninety minutes of pure, unadulterated hell, the likes of which he’d never seen—and he’d been in the military for shit’s sake. Those people didn’t mess around. Kayla made them look like pre-primary teachers instead of hardened warriors.
She rolled her eyes. “God, Wyatt, are you always this much of a diva?”
Diva. Diva? How dare she insult his manhood after he’d laid it all out on the line in front of her. He swiped the glass from her hand, ignoring her smug look.
Forgoing the straw, he took a gulp of the liquid, pleasantly surprised when the flavor exploded on his taste buds and slid easily down his throat. He finished the glass in two gulps and handed it back to her. “Not bad.”
“Thanks. I like it.”
“What’s in there?”
“Spinach. Kale. Fresh blueberries and strawberries. No sugar added almond milk. A scoop of protein powder, chia seeds and a dash of spices. The recipe is a secret. If I tell you, I’d have to kill you.”
“Yeah, well, you’re well on your way after today.”
With one more glittering smile, she spun away and disappeared. He licked the remnants off his lips. Damn, not only was she gorgeous, athletic, strong and powerful, but she could shoot the top off a bottle a hundred feet away and she could cook. If he wasn’t ass over teakettle over Amelia, he’d be crushing on his coworker.
Moving slower than usual, he found an open shower stall and stripped off his drenched clothes. After standing under the pounding water for at least twenty minutes, he felt better. His bosses, Luke Colton and Logan Bradley, had been talking about hiring massage therapists to work on site. Wyatt would give just about anything to have one of them finish what the hot water started and knead the soreness out of his muscles right now. Even better: Amelia. She’d done the job for him the last few weeks and having her hands on his body had been both pure Heaven and agonizing hell. His body reacted predictably to her touching him. He’d invented several creative ways to mask his reaction, most of which he was pretty sure didn’t fool her a bit.
Despite the lingering aches and pains, he was much better off than he’d been even a week ago. When the first bomb exploded, he thought he was a goner. He’d been tossed through the air, the heat from the resulting fire nothing compared to the impact of the landing. He’d almost given in to the darkness that beckoned to him, promising him a respite from the pain. But the sound of the helo making a return trip had spurred him to action. It was all he could do to crawl to his SUV and retrieve his sniper rifle. Even after he set up for the shot, he had a hard time focusing. But he’d pushed double-vision and everything else aside and squeezed the trigger, obliterating the head of the pilot. It wasn’t until he heard the chopper nosedive into the ground and erupt into a giant fireball that he gave in to the darkness that called to him. When he’d woken up, it’d been Amelia’s beautiful face welcoming him back to the land of the living.
He dressed in sweats and a t-shirt he kept in his locker and exited out a side door to head back to his apartment. He loved every one of his coworkers, but he didn’t feel up to small talk. The malaise he felt wasn’t depression. It was more like sadness. Or longing. Day two of Amelia being gone sucked big time. He missed her smile and her quirky sense of humor that matched his perfectly. He missed her soft touches and, yes, her bossiness. Hell, he missed her, period.
The next few weeks without her would seem endless, especially when he wasn’t allowed back in the field. With nothing to occupy his mind, his thoughts kept drifting to her, wondering what she was doing and how she was settling into the job in a country hundreds of miles away. The fear he’d felt for her safety when he woke up had faded. He needed to have a serious talk with his subconscious. Mixing up dreams wasn’t acceptable. He didn’t want to wake up that scared every day she was gone. He’d go bonkers.
He’d been to Santigo and though the landscape was beautiful, it was severely lacking in an infrastructure and a strong government. Most of the people lived in tiny, remote villages in the rainforest. The government of the largest city took their cue from Las Vegas and added neon lights to everything. It was gaudy and congested and rampant with violence and drugs. That Amelia was there alone made the unease in his gut churn. He had a feeling he wouldn’t be able to relax until she was back home, preferably in his arms.
#
Amelia woke, feeling rested and optimistic that she would be rescued. It was Wyatt’s calm presence, even in her dream, that gave her the knowledge and certainty that she’d be okay.
Two men appeared carrying trays. One stopped at her door while the other continued down the hall to Manuel, she assumed. She didn’t recognize the one who placed the tray on the floor inside the door.
“Wait,” she called out in Spanish. “I’m a doctor. There’s been some mistake.”
He looked at her and the expression in his face made a cold shiver race down her spine. Now she wished she’d never tried to engage him. He didn’t smile, nor did he frown. His face was a mask of evil.
She backed away, praying he’d leave. There was no hint of kindness or compassion in his black eyes. They were dead.
He stepped out and locked the door and waited for the other man to return from Manuel’s cell before they disappeared. She breathed a sigh of relief.
Today they’d gifted her with an apple, so she polished it on her shirt and took a bite. Tangy sweetness exploded on her tongue. It tasted delicious. She uncapped the water and took a healthy drink.
After she’d finished the fruit, she tossed it on the tray next to the untouched beans. Carrying her water with her, she slid down the wall next to the hole.
“Did you eat something?” she asked Manuel.
“Yes, an apple. It was tart and juicy.”
“Mine, too.” She paused, trying to decide how to frame her next question. “Have you seen the guard with short, buzzed brown hair and tattoos of tears on his cheeks?”
“Yes, I know who you mean. The one with the dead eyes.”
“You noticed it too?”
“Yeah, freaked me out. I think his name’s Enrico.”
It freaked her out, too. The saddest part was that he didn’t look a day over twenty. None of the captors did.
They talked for the next few hours, with Manuel telling her about his family and job at the University in Colombia. His excitement about the wasps his students were studying in the rainforest was contagious. Apparently they were so tiny, they were rarely noticed by humans. She told him about her long hours in the hospital and how the perfect job was waiting for her when she returned home.
He was fascinated with the work of COBRA Securities and asked her all kinds of questions. Talking about her friends, relaying stories of how many of them met, caused a wave of homesickness to assail her. She knew she’d miss them being gone so long, but she thought she’d be too busy day and night for the feelings to overwhelm her, as they were now.
It wasn’t until another tray was delivered that she realized the entire day had passed while she and Manuel shared stories.
Tonight’s menu consisted of a slice of whit
e bread, more beans (obviously they bought them in bulk) and slices of pineapple, along with another bottle of water. She broke the seal and took a drink before biting into the pineapple. It was syrupy and delicious. The bread looked a petri dish away from being someone’s science project, so she ignored it, along with the beans. She might have to scoop a few into her mouth if she became desperate, but right now, the fruit and water sustained her.
After another workout in which Manuel joined her in pumping blood into her muscles, she crashed by the wall.
“I’ve been meaning to start working out again,” Manuel panted. “With a baby and a job that keeps me busy, I don’t have time to exercise.”
“I know what you mean. I don’t have a baby to keep me up, but the long hours in the emergency room do the trick.”
She finished off the last of her water and tossed the bottle on the tray. She wondered if they recycled and then decided deranged kidnappers probably didn’t care about things like saving the environment.
She woke from a light sleep when she heard a commotion outside her cell. Sleep came quickly, but dark images haunted her dreams. Wyatt had just appeared riding a white stallion when she’d been jarred awake.
She blinked her eyes open to see two men forcefully dragging a man between them. It was too dark to make out any of his features. He was begging them to leave him alone. They weren’t coming from the right—they were coming from left where Manuel’s cell was located.
Instantly awake, she jumped to her feet and ran to the bars. “Manuel?”
“Amelia! I don’t know where they’re taking me! They won’t tell me where we’re going.” The panic in his tone had her heart racing.
“Where are you taking him?” she yelled at the guards, but they ignored her, too. “Wait!” She rattled the bars to get their attention, but it was too late. They disappeared from view. Air sawed in and out of her lungs as she dropped to the ground, her back against the bars. She teetered on the edge of hyperventilating. She’d never felt so helpless. The German had never returned to the cell. She worried Manuel wouldn’t return either. He’d been a steady force, keeping her sane while she was locked away. Having him to talk to made the hours pass easier. Not knowing what happened to him would haunt her dreams. She covered her mouth to stifle a sob. Now she was all alone in a crude underground cell God only knew where in Santigo…if she was even still in the country. They might’ve taken her across a border. What if she was never found? How long could she last being locked away from the world?
Without a Trace (COBRA Securities Book 18) Page 6