The other reason he was out in the Godforsaken jungle was to hunt down the Canadian who took his cousin Enrico’s life and make him pay. Painfully. For long, long hours until he begged for Gustavo to release him from his earthly body. But he would not. No, the Canadian would die a slow, excruciating death. Eventually. No one harmed Gustavo’s family and lived to tell the tale.
He still couldn’t figure out how the three managed to escape and evade his men for so long. He knew the jungle. They did not. He didn’t like appearing inept in front of his men. He would find them, though he was beginning to think the three had disappeared off the face of the earth. Maybe they’d been eaten by jaguars or swallowed whole by anacondas. No one they’d encountered had seen a trace of them.
He’d sent JoJo and Lewin ahead to question the villagers, but they’d come up empty. Maybe he should’ve sent someone else since JoJo and Lewin were dumb as tree stumps, but they thought the pastor they encountered acted strange. It was worth checking out himself.
Gustavo glanced around, looking for someone to ask, but there was no sign of life. Where were the people who inhabited the huts? A flash of movement caught his eye and he spotted a young boy emerging from the forest in the other direction, unaware of their presence. He gasped and took a step back when he spotted them, dropping the bucket filled with acai berries he’d harvested.
“Who are you?”
Gustavo plastered on his most sincere smile. “My name is Gus. Who are you?”
The boy looked at each of his men skeptically. “I’m Pedro.”
“Pedro, I’m looking for some people. They’re friends of mine. A woman, she’s a doctor, and two men. One of them is injured and I want to help. Have you seen them?”
Pedro bobbed his head. “Yes. They were here.” His eyes rounded and he slapped a hand over his mouth. “I mean no,” he garbled.
“What’s that?”
He removed his hand. “No, they’re not here. They left.”
The kid knew something but had obviously been told to lie. Gustavo vibrated with excitement. What was that saying that the English-speaking countries were fond of, something about the third time being the charm? He never really understood that phrase until now. This was the third village they’d encountered, and they’d hit the jackpot.
He’d been sure the elders at the two other villages he questioned had been lying to him, so they all paid the price for their deception. Now that he knew the escaped captives were here, the people of this community might be spared. It depended on how hard Gustavo and his men had to work to find the three escaped captives. If the villagers were honest and led him to them, he would simply take the woman and the Canadian and be on his way. He’d leave the giant blond man behind—with a bullet in his head, of course.
“Good. That’s very good. Where are they, Pedro? I need to speak with them immediately.”
Pedro lifted his hands with a shrug. “I said they left.”
Gustavo narrowed his eyes. “Did you see them leave?”
Pedro looked torn. Finally, he shook his head.
“So, they could still be here?”
He tossed out his arms. “I was told they were gone. You have to ask Father Juan.”
Gustavo’s nostrils flared. If they truly had left, he’d be deprived of the revenge he sought until he could track them down again. He was tired of this cat and mouse game.
“Take me to Father Juan. Now.”
Pedro recognized the threat in his voice. The boy spun around and darted towards a structure built against a hill. It had the pitched roof and steeple with a golden cross marking it as a church. Gustavo gestured for his men to follow as they headed for the small chapel. Pedro stood to the side of the steps, his small body shaking. Gustavo waved him away with a flick of his hand and he wasted no time fleeing.
Gustavo stormed inside, hoping to catch the fugitives off guard but there was only one man in the sanctuary. He was kneeling in front of an altar, his head bowed. Gustavo had no use for prayer. It did no good. Only hard work got you what you wanted, not some ridiculous being who floated around in the sky, overseeing everyone.
Gustavo glanced around but it appeared the priest was alone. He’d turned at their entry and slowly pushed to his feet, a rosary dangling between his clasped hands.
Gustavo stormed forward. “Are you Father Juan?”
The man inclined his head. “Yes, I am Father Juan. How may I help you gentlemen?”
“I’m looking for three fugitives. They’re escaped convicts and considered extremely dangerous. A woman and two men, one of them badly hurt. I was assured they were here by one of your villagers. Take me to them, now.”
The priest nodded in confirmation. “Yes, I know who you speak of and they were here, but they left. I allowed them to sleep in the pews, but they were gone when I awoke yesterday.”
Lewin stepped forward. “Hey, you told us earlier that you hadn’t seen them.”
“Oh, hello again. Yes, well, you said you were looking for your hiking friends and you’d been separated. I knew it couldn’t be the same group since one man was badly injured. He wouldn’t have been hiking in his condition.”
Gustavo closed his eyes. Lewin truly was a dumbass, second only to JoJo.
“You knew who we meant,” Lewin accused.
“I’m sorry, I did not,” the priest insisted.
Rage bubbled up inside Gustavo. He’d been so close. “Where. Did. They. Go?”
The priest held out his hands. “I’m sorry, as I said, I do not know. We had a language barrier. I didn’t understand them and they didn’t understand me. I simply provided them food and shelter for the night.”
Gustavo tossed back his head, threw out his arms and let out an earsplitting roar. Even his men skittered back in fear. He was tired of trekking through the Godforsaken jungle in search of three people who should have never escaped in the first place. He was tired of sleeping on the hard ground and eating terrible food. Before he thought better of it, he lifted his pistol and shot the priest at point blank range. He was robbed of the element of surprise on the priest’s face. Instead, the man looked calm as blood blossomed through his robes and he crumbled to the floor in a heap. With another savage growl, he unloaded his pistol into the cleric. How dare he deprive Gustavo of the satisfaction of killing him!
When the last bullet left the chamber, he stared at the gun as if he’d never seen it before. Usually killing a man didn’t faze him, but his grandmother would skin him alive for murdering a man of the cloth. In cold blood, no less. Shaking the thoughts away, he jammed the gun in his holster. He didn’t care what the old hag thought. She’d beat him within an inch of his life with switches she made him gather himself from the jungle. He still bore the scars on his back and buttocks. He felt no remorse for ending her with one of those switches when he turned eighteen. Wrapping the branch around her neck and yanking the ends tight had been cathartic. She’d gurgled and gasped, but he jerked the ends harder. The satisfaction he felt when she slumped over dead was the beginning of his current career path. Watching the life drain out of someone was better than sex with Jazmin, and that woman was all kinds of flexible. She could twist her body into all sorts of intricate knots.
Just because the man he’d killed devoted himself to a God that Gustavo didn’t believe in didn’t mean he should feel any different about taking his life. The way he saw it, he did the priest a favor, sending him to meet his maker. Besides, he deserved it for helping the fugitives evade him. It wasn’t like he’d ever see the man again. If there was such a thing as Heaven or Hell, Gustavo would surely be banished to spend eternity with the dark lord himself.
“Gather everyone in the village and kill them,” he ordered his troops. He didn’t feel guilty about eliminating them, either. They were all accessories, even the little ones. He stayed inside the church until his blood pressure returned to normal, then he spun around and stomped outside, expecting to see carnage and gore everywhere. Instead, his men were coming from the hut
s with perplexed looks.
“They’re all gone,” Felix informed him. “All the buildings are empty.”
Livid he’d been thwarted again, Gustavo let out another thunderous roar. Birds skittered from the trees, their wings flapping madly as they fluttered to escape the screaming madman. He couldn’t take satisfaction from watching his men eliminate the people who helped the prisoners escape. He spun in a circle, looking into the woods that surrounded the village. Where had they gone? He lifted his pistol to fire into the jungle, but one squeeze reminded him he’d used up his bullets on the damn priest.
Rage engulfed him again. He thought about sending his men to find them. They couldn’t have gotten far. There would be old people and children to slow them down. But they weren’t his priority. Finding the woman and the Canadian was, but they’d outmaneuvered him again. He was back to square one.
“What do we do about the priest?” Felix asked anxiously. “We can’t just leave him there.”
Gustavo could care less. His heart hammered in his ears as he slowly spun around to face Felix. He must look like a Berserker because Felix’s eyes widened, and he stumbled backwards out of reach. Gustavo might feel the need to kill someone, but he wouldn’t turn on his men. He was already down several thanks to the prisoners and one idiot who thought it would be funny to provoke a damn anaconda. Dumbasses, the lot of them.
Closing his eyes, he drew on every ounce of restraint he possessed. When he opened them, it was to see Felix shaking in his boots. He knew the man attended church and believed in a higher being overseeing everything that happened on earth. If Felix wanted to delude himself, that was his problem. “Dig a hole and bury him,” he ordered. “Make it fast. Then check all of the buildings again.” If the escaped prisoners were here, he’d find them. He’d changed his mind about torturing the Canadian. Now he just wanted the man dead. He’d have his men bury the Canadian and the giant blond man in the hole with the Padre. He’d make the doctor pay for disrespecting him, too. He didn’t care if it pissed Bainbridge off or not. The doctor made him look weak in front of his subordinates. A deadly sin, as far as Gustavo was concerned.
He’d turn her over to Bainbridge—eventually. After all his men had a go at her, too. They deserved a reward for traipsing all over the rainforest to find her.
Chapter Sixteen
Amelia’s hand stroked Wyatt’s chest as they sat with their backs against the wall in total darkness. Neither of them had been able to sleep wondering what was happening with Father Juan. Her nerves were strung too tight. A group of armed men approaching the village had to be the gang who kidnapped them. They weren’t giving up. The thought of being tossed back into the cell terrified her. The captors would be on guard now more than ever, so escaping again would be impossible. They’d probably be angry that they had to search so hard for them. Would they resort to torture?
She shuddered.
“You okay, babe?”
“It’s taking too long,” she whispered. “Father Juan should’ve returned by now. It feels like it’s been hours.”
The arm Wyatt slung over her shoulder tightened as she burrowed deeper against his side. He kept his gun in his other hand in case their hiding place was discovered. They had nowhere to run, their only defense the element of surprise. Her weapon rested on the small table beside the bed.
“I know,” Wyatt replied softly.
It didn’t bode well that Father Juan hadn’t come for them. He would’ve if he could, which meant the interlopers were still on the premises. Either that or they took him…or worse. “Maybe they decided to stay the night and he couldn’t chance checking on us,” she said, not really believing it. Something was wrong. She could feel it in her bones.
“Maybe,” Wyatt agreed, but she knew he didn’t believe that scenario, either.
She wasn’t sure which was worse: waiting on word or the complete blackness that surrounded them. Apparently, on top of claustrophobia, she’d developed nyctophobia, or fear of the dark. Add that to her healthy case of ophidiophobia and she was one hot mess. Her breathing increased as panic threatened.
“Be right back.” Wyatt scooted off the bed, taking his body heat and her sense of security with him. She made a desperate grab for him but missed. A light snapped on and then he tugged the bathroom door until it was almost closed, leaving a comforting glow.
Tears welled in her eyes. He realized she’d been on the verge of an anxiety attack and he prevented it for her. Along with tight spaces, she’d never had a fear of the dark before, but after this, she wouldn’t feel comfortable in either. The one thing she knew for sure was that she’d never have made it through the ordeal without Wyatt.
He rejoined her on the bed, and she clung to him. He shifted them until they were lying on the cramped cot, her back to his front. She covered them with the thin blanket. They’d decided to sleep fully clothed, shoes and all, in case they needed to make a quick getaway. They’d packed their bags and included supplies Father Juan provided. The packs were sitting by the door where they could grab them on the way out.
Wyatt’s chest rose and fell behind her, but she knew he wasn’t asleep. “How long do we wait before we check on Father Juan?”
“We’ll give him a few more hours, until morning, if my timing is right. If he’s not back, I’ll sneak out to see what’s happening.”
Amelia covered a snort. “At your size, you can’t sneak anywhere. I’ll go outside and find out what’s going on.”
Wyatt’s arm tightened around her waist and he leaned over until his mouth brushed her ear, causing her to shiver. “When will you learn that I’m not letting you put yourself in danger?”
“You’re not the boss of me, Wyatt. I’m a grown woman.”
“Yes, you are,” he agreed easily. “Doesn’t matter. As long as I breathe, I will protect you. Get used to it.”
The feminist in her resented his words. She could take care of herself, dammit. The romantic reveled in them. There was something primal about a man wanting to take care of his woman—wait. His woman? Was that how he saw their relationship?
She’d fallen for him the first time she met him with his sexy accent and handsome face. He was kind and funny, sweet and heroic. They’d spent long hours together after his injury, but he’d never indicated that he wanted more from their friendship.
“Wyatt, why did you come to Santigo?”
His sigh ruffled her hair. “Haven’t we discussed this already?”
“No, we haven’t. I know you didn’t miss me putting you through your physical therapy exercises, so it must be something else. Did you think I couldn’t handle being here alone?”
“No, never.”
“Did you think you had to fly over to make sure I didn’t put myself in danger, as you put it?”
He was quiet so long she wasn’t sure he’d answer. Maybe that in itself was the answer. He didn’t think she could take care of herself.
Another deep sigh. “I missed you.”
The words were spoken so low she almost didn’t hear him. “What?”
“I missed you, Amelia. That’s why I came. Not because I didn’t think you couldn’t handle weeks in the jungle, because I know you can. And not because I have some overblown need to take care of you, though I don’t deny that. I just…missed you.”
Every bone in her body melted at his words. Wyatt wasn’t one to talk about his emotions. All the long hours they spent together when he was recovering, he consistently changed the subject when any mention of feelings came up. To hear him admit them now made her fall even deeper in love with him, if that was possible.
She wanted to roll over, press her body to his and experience the pleasure only he could provide. But something was happening outside their door. They couldn’t afford to get caught in flagrante delicto when their lives were at stake.
#
Though his body needed sleep, Wyatt stayed awake to keep watch. It was difficult when his arms were wrapped around the most incredible woman on the pla
net. It was all he could do to refrain from ravishing her all night.
What the hell had he been thinking admitting how much he’d missed her? He might as well have reached into his chest, ripped out his heart and handed it to her on a silver platter. She was genius-level intelligent. She had to know it meant he loved her, and his heart did indeed belong to her.
Maybe it was better she knew where he stood. He was well aware she was light years out of his league, but there’d never be another man who would love her more. He’d do anything to keep her safe, including giving up his own life. He winced. Maybe he had some kind of jungle-related fever that turned him into a sap. His coworkers would laugh their asses off to hear him ramble on about his undying love for the delectable doctor.
Without a watch, it was impossible to know how long Father Juan had been gone but it seemed like hours. But then, time passed slowly in the hidden room. Still, something had to have happened to him. He’d have come back if he could.
He’d have to rely on his internal clock to guide him, and it told him it was somewhere around dawn. He wanted to be gone soon. Travel would be slow, and they’d have to stop often so Ryan could rest. First, he’d need to slip outside and find out what had happened to the priest.
“Morning, beautiful.” He stroked Amelia’s hair as she stirred.
“Still no sign of Father Juan?”
“No. We need to get going.”
After a kiss that turned hot and heavy, she climbed out of bed and turned on the light before heading to the bathroom.
Ryan’s eye blinked open. “Did Father Juan return?”
Wyatt tossed off the covers and stood. “No.”
Ryan sat up, his hair sticking up in every direction. “That’s not good.”
“It’s not. How are you feeling? Are you up to travelling?”
“Yeah. I’m ready to get out of this hell hole country.”
“You and me both, brother.”
Without a Trace (COBRA Securities Book 18) Page 17