Without a Trace (COBRA Securities Book 18)

by Velvet Vaughn

  She now carried two weapons she wasn’t sure she’d be able to use. Wyatt dipped his head around the corner and motioned for her to follow. The ground began angling sharply upward. The smell of fresh air lured them to the opening. Wyatt kept them close to the wall, not knowing what they’d find when they emerged from the tunnel.

  The pounding beat of music grew louder as they approached the exit. It was dark outside, the tree branches blocking out any moonlight. Lights burned in several windows of a large house situated a few yards away. When they detected no movement, they eased from the tunnel and headed for the cover of trees.

  “Hey! Stop,” a voice shouted in Spanish. Something whizzed by her ear and she instinctively covered her head. Before she could register that the man was shooting at them, Wyatt returned fire, nailing him in the chest. The immediate threat was gone, but the shots would bring reinforcements. They took off running, Wyatt hampered by the dead weight on his shoulder. He didn’t slow when they came to a gate and two armed guards playing cards. They both looked up, startled. One jumped up, knocking over the table, sending cards and chips flying. Wyatt took him out before he could reach for his gun. The second guard squeezed off a shot, narrowly missing them again. Wyatt didn’t miss.

  Amelia glanced over her shoulder to see dark figures pouring out of the house, no doubt alerted by the gunshots. “We have to hurry,” she insisted. She ducked into the booth and found the button to open the gates. They squeezed through before they opened all the way and headed down the dirt road. Wyatt veered into the jungle where it would be harder to be found, but it would make navigation difficult for them, too.

  He possessed incredible night vision, leading them through the trees when there was no visible path. She tripped a couple of times but managed to keep up with his rapid pace.

  Excited barking had panic seizing her. She glanced over her shoulder to see tiny pinpricks of light bobbing in the woods behind them. “They have dogs, Wyatt.”

  “Follow me.” He headed for a stream and didn’t hesitate to wade inside. She said a prayer that there weren’t any piranha or deadly fish or crocodiles and jumped in after him. The water was only two feet deep, but the floor was rocky, and the current was strong. They fought against it as it pushed them downstream until he found a spot for them to climb out. Despite his injuries and the excessive weight on his shoulders, he turned and reached out a hand to help her to shore.

  She placed her hand in his, wishing she could enjoy the sensation of skin on skin contact, but he was lifting her effortlessly from the water. God, he was strong. She wanted to stop and marvel at him. He truly was Superman.

  She was so engrossed in her thoughts, she didn’t realize he’d stopped until she crashed into his back, narrowly missing the man’s head dangling over Wyatt’s shoulder. She stumbled back a few steps, then a few more when the weight of the backpack propelled her faster. She latched onto a tree and held on for all she was worth to keep from tumbling back into the creek.

  “You okay?” Wyatt called over his shoulder, but he still hadn’t moved.

  Pushing upright, she adjusted the straps over her shoulders and crept towards him. “I’m fine. Why did you stop?”

  “Shh.” He held up a hand. She twisted around him to see why he paused, instantly regretting her decision. Slithering along the path before them was the biggest, ugliest green snake she’d ever laid eyes on.

  And he was headed directly towards them.

  “Slowly ease back into the trees. Let’s give him a clear shot to the water. I don’t want to have to shoot him and alert our pursuers to our position.”

  Ophidiophobia was Amelia’s Achilles heel. She’d tried to overcome it, especially before her trip to the jungle. She thought she’d managed to conquer her phobia but faced with the disgusting cold-blooded reptile, her panic came rushing back until she was paralyzed with fear.

  “Amelia.” Wyatt’s tone was urgent, jerking her from her stupor.

  “Right.” She moved backwards on shaking legs. From the relative safety of the foliage, she latched onto Wyatt’s arm and stared transfixed as the ginormous creature slowly glided by. Could snakes eat two people in one giant gulp? He sure looked like he could. His beady eyes turned towards them and it was all she could do to keep from peeing her pants. She shuddered at the hissing sound, assuming it was the snake until her fingers cramped and she realized Wyatt was making the noise. “Oops. Sorry.” She loosened her grip but didn’t let go. Thankfully the snake continued his journey and silently slid into the stream. She shivered. How many of his buddies had been in the water when they crossed? It was best not to think about it. She’d already have nightmares about the slimy reptiles to go along with ones about being held captive. Her luck, she’d dream of being locked in a tiny cell with a hungry anaconda.

  “Okay?”

  She looked up to find Wyatt watching her with concern. She pasted on a smile. “I’m good.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  Her heart fluttered. She wanted him to kiss her. She wanted to taste his firm lips again and run her hands along his steely muscles. Before she could suggest a little tonsil hockey, he nodded and took off again. Bubble burst. She hurried to catch up with him. Her wet hiking boots felt like they weighed ten pounds each. His had to as well, but he didn’t slow.

  Minutes became hours. She followed him on autopilot, her body moving on its own. Muscle memory, she supposed. The barking had stopped a while ago and there were no more lights behind them. She hoped they were home free. They’d been able to use a flashlight to guide their steps without fear of being caught. She was extremely thankful. There were all kinds of scary creatures in the jungle. She didn’t want to stumble across another deadly snake or any of the critters that called the rainforest home. The ever-present howler monkeys and squirrel monkeys that usually swished overhead were bedded down for the night. She thought they might’ve encountered a candle of tapirs and a family of capybaras, but she couldn’t be sure she hadn’t hallucinated them. She passed tired hours ago and was bordering on zombie.

  They came upon a small rock mountain. Maybe they could find a cave to hunker down in and sleep for a few hours. They’d been walking for miles. She had no idea how far, but her body felt numb. It was still dark out, so it had to be the early hours of the morning. The kidnappers stole her watch, so she had no concept of time. Her wet socks chaffed her skin and she knew once she removed her shoes, she’d find bleeding blisters, despite her best efforts to prevent them.

  “Wyatt, you need to rest.”

  He didn’t answer and he didn’t stop. “Wyatt.” She grabbed his arm and he stumbled to a halt. He blinked down at her, his eyes unfocused. His hair was dripping sweat. He’d been moving on autopilot, too.

  “We have to rest.”

  He nodded slowly the movement causing him to sway. She took the lead, heading for the rocks. Her beam lit on a dark hole about fifteen feet off the ground. It would be precarious following the restricted path to the cave, but that meant that there probably wouldn’t be any animals waiting inside to devour them. She hoped.

  She helped Wyatt maneuver his heavy load up the narrow trail. When they reached the opening, he insisted on checking it out first. Though she wasn’t as terrified of bats as she was snakes, she’d rather not encounter one, so she agreed. She removed the pack from his shoulder before he carefully placed the man on the ground and rose with a groan. She winced with him when he twisted his body, knowing he must be in so much pain. He wasn’t ready for an adventure like this so soon after his injuries.

  He disappeared inside but returned seconds later. “It’ll do.”

  They carried the man in first—she put her foot down on helping him—and then came back for the packs. It said a great deal about how tired Wyatt was that he let her help. She needed to examine the patient to make sure the trek through the jungle hadn’t killed him. She was glad she’d given him a shot of sedative.

  She flashed her light around the damp, dark interior. Calling it a ca
ve was a stretch. It was more of an indent in the rocks. There was only one entrance, so if someone came after them, they’d be trapped. It wasn’t ideal, but they needed to rest, and it wasn’t safe to sleep on the jungle floor. They’d pushed past their limits. She was afraid Wyatt would collapse. She’d been close, too.

  “I’ll be right back. Keep a gun handy.”

  Amelia grabbed his arm. “Wait—where are you going?”

  “To camouflage the opening and set a trap so no one can sneak up on us.”

  She hadn’t even thought about doing something like that. It would help her to rest knowing they’d be alerted if someone tried to approach the cave. She thought she’d been prepared for the trip, but what did she know about surviving in the wild? She’d camped with her parents throughout her childhood, but there was a huge difference between sleeping on a soft mattress beneath flannel sheets inside a climate-controlled recreational vehicle in a National Park, and snoozing on the hard, unforgiving ground in the middle of a foreign rainforest teaming with deadly beasts—and animals, too.

  Though she was still mad at him for travelling when he needed to rest and recover, she was ridiculously thankful Wyatt made the trip to visit her. She wasn’t sure what she’d have done without him. She would’ve tried to escape but saying she could pull the trigger on someone and actually doing it were two completely separate things. Plus, she wouldn’t have been able to save the man lying in front of her. She had a feeling he’d have died if they left him there, just like the poor, battered woman. From the looks of him, they’d pounded him within an inch of his life.

  While Wyatt was gone, she concentrated on the patient. She flicked on the flashlight and placed it on top of the backpack so she could examine him. He was over six feet tall and packed with muscle. He looked like all the men who worked for COBRA Securities. Again, she wondered how Wyatt had carried his weight for so long. Super. Man.

  The man’s pulse was weak but steady. Gingerly, she probed his head and torso, both liberally covered with dried blood and bruises. Someone had worked him over like a prizefighter. The left side of his face was swollen. Easing his shirt from his pants, she tugged it up. His chest was one angry contusion. Some of the bruising along his abdomen was undoubtably caused by being bounced on a muscular shoulder for hours. After checking his extremities, she was relieved to note he didn’t have any broken bones, but internal bleeding was a concern, along with a head injury. Snapping the folding pole from her medical kit into place, she attached a bag of saline and started an IV, hoping to replenish some of the fluid he’d lost.

  She removed the blanket from the extra pack Wyatt had swiped from the underground prison and placed it over him. Then she unrolled the sleeping bag and arranged it on the ground. There was no phone or identification inside, but the luggage tag indicated it belonged to a Ryan Marx of Canada.

  Settling on the sleeping bag, she untied her boots and eased them off with a groan. Her socks had long since dried, but they stuck to her feet when she peeled them off. She didn’t want Wyatt to know about the blisters, so she cleaned and bandaged them before he returned.

  The miniscule amount of light filtering in the opening was suddenly extinguished with a swoosh. She didn’t take a breath until Wyatt was beside her again.

  “I found a small tree that hasn’t been down long. It still had a full set of branches. It covers the opening. I also rigged a vine along the trail. If someone steps on it, rocks will rain down.”

  “Genius.” And she meant it.

  He eased down beside her on the sleeping bag. “How’s the patient?”

  “Resting for now. His body is one giant bruise. They really worked him over. I’m worried about internal bleeding and head trauma. There’s no way you can carry him…” Her voice trailed off when she glanced at Wyatt. He was fast asleep.

  #

  Gustavo Rios stood with his hands on his hips as he surveyed the forest in front of him, not that he could actually see anything in the pitch black. How in the hell had three captives managed to escape his secure facility? One of them was a mere woman and another had been beaten so bad, he was practically catatonic. Gustavo should know, he’d done most of the thrashing himself. Usually they didn’t rough up the merchandise, but the Canadian had asked for it when he shot Gustavo’s cousin. He’d hunt them all down and make them pay for killing three of his men. Then he’d take enormous satisfaction putting a bullet in the Canadian’s head for killing Enrico.

  Somehow, the captives got the jump on Freddy and tied him up inside their cell. That was bad enough, but they also bested Jose and bound him before knocking out Juan. They upped their game by killing Rennie, who’d been stationed outside. Then they murdered Sergio and Luis at the gate.

  The men he sent to check the underground cell at first thought that Freddy and Jose were dead, too. They were tied up and unmoving. But they’d just been knocked out. Not so with his cousin Enrico. He was truly dead. The Canadian’s bullet had pierced his stomach. He told his men to take Enrico to the bunker and have the woman doctor fix him. What the hell kind of doctor was she if she couldn’t save his cousin? Had she even tried before she escaped?

  A wave of sadness swept over him. He and Enrico had grown up together, more brothers than cousins. It was Enrico who saved him from certain death when he was ten. He’d been about to scoop up a beautiful golden frog the size of a paper clip, not realizing it was a dart frog, the most poisonous animal alive. Some carried enough venom to kill ten men. He’d known to steer clear of the beautiful yet deadly creatures, even at ten, but he’d forgotten when he spotted the unusual looking toad. If not for Enrico, he probably would’ve been bitten, which started with paralysis and ended with death.

  He slammed a fist against his palm. Enrico didn’t deserve to die. It was Gustavo’s job to keep him safe and he failed. Enrico was killed following Gustavo’s orders. Kidnapping foreigners for ransom had become a very lucrative side business to his drug empire and Gustavo had built a formidable reputation among the gangs that roamed the country. He would make sure the man responsible paid the ultimate price. The doctor, too, for not saving him.

  Donald Bainbridge was one of his best customers. When he’d called and instructed him to grab the doctor and then kill all the people in the hospital, he hadn’t hesitated. Donald wanted Gustavo to hold the doctor until he could return for her personally. When Gustavo laid eyes on the woman, he understood why Donald was so hot to have her back. Tall with hair the color of the sun, she was stunning. He’d have liked to have a go at her, but he knew better than to anger Donald, so he left her alone and instructed his men not to touch her either. Though Donald was an idiot, he was a rich idiot and he paid well. He was Gustavo’s pipeline into the United States drug market. He couldn’t afford to anger his best client.

  After eliminating the staff at the hospital, Gustavo instructed Freddy and Rennie to stay behind to see if anyone else approached the hospital. Sure enough, a man appeared, and Freddie and Rennie captured him. The strange thing was he had absolutely no identification on him, making Gustavo suspicious. Foreigners always travelled with a passport. The phone the men had taken from him was impossible to crack, so they couldn’t get a contact number to demand a ransom. The watch he’d been wearing looked technical and expensive, but the damn thing didn’t work, either. Why the hell would he wear a watch that didn’t work? That made Gustavo think that maybe he was a spy or something. He tossed both the watch and the phone into fire to destroy them in case they could be traced. Usually he had one of his men drive to Meseta and pawn the phones, computers or other electronic equipment that could be tracked, but it would be a waste to try to peddle defective merchandise.

  Gustavo had planned on having a chat with the spy in the morning after he woke to make him understand that he either gave the name of someone to pay his ransom or they could come collect his dead body. Now he wouldn’t have the chance.

  Having three prisoners escape wasn’t good for his reputation. When Donald discovered t
he doctor was missing, he would be livid. Gustavo needed to find them before he returned.

  He had no way of knowing how well the three escapees knew the country. Would they head to Meseta? He shook his head. No, they would most likely return to the hospital. It was close to a small airport. His best bet would be to head in that direction.

  “Let’s go. Move out,” he told his men. The sooner they found the escapees, the sooner the ordeal would be over. Then he’d have to find a special place to bury his beloved cousin Enrico.

  Chapter Ten

  Wyatt woke slowly, his entire body one giant ache. For a moment, he wondered if he’d travelled back in time to the explosion that wreaked havoc on the compound and him. He dismissed the thought when images flashed in his head of an endless trek through the dark woods. He was in Santigo with Amelia and they escaped being held hostage.

  He felt every single muscle in his shoulders, back and legs. He wasn’t sure he could move if someone held a gun to his head. Speaking of guns, the slice along his rib cage stung, but he could feel a padded bandage covering the wound. Amelia must’ve patched him up after his entire system crashed.

  He didn’t remember much about the journey except for the excruciating pain that racked his body with every step. The man they rescued from the prison was no lightweight. He was close to Wyatt’s size and thickly muscled. He didn’t look forward to the hike today, but he’d manage. It was mind over body.

  Speaking of the hike, they needed to get moving. He shouldn’t have slept this long, but his body had given out on him. He didn’t know how much of a head start they had on the kidnappers, but he had no doubt they’d be coming for them. He’d killed three of their men. They’d want revenge.