Outside, the gangling silhouette of Zachary Selmon stood poised, arms extended as if he were gauging which direction offered the least resistance. In that moment of uncertainty he looked back over his shoulder at Alex−awaiting her wisdom−awaiting her command.
“Come back,” she shouted, but the last word was obliterated by a gunshot.
Alex yanked free from Mitch’s grasp. He might as well have released her from the roof of a hundred-story building.
“No!” He hefted the sunglasses on, and hauled the rifle from his shoulder, wrapping his palm around the stock and praying he could remember how to shoot it.
Alex was hunched over Zach’s crumpled form and Mitch assumed a stance of authority above her with the barrel of the rifle scoping out advancing targets. He knew he was sized up in everyone’s crosshairs, but he stood with legs spread, gun raised, and shouted in Spanish for them to back off. He told them that the situation was under control. To demonstrate this he took the tip of the barrel and touched it to Zach’s shoulder, while reaching for Alex’s arm and hauling her upright, overpowering her resistance.
“It’s a surface wound,” he uttered, hoarse. “Stay still. The next few minutes are going to be dicey.”
“Mitch, my God, the blood.” She started to hiccup. Dry tears. Similar to dry heaves.
“Someone is coming,” he warned.
“Que pasa?” Their invasive guard from the front gate approached with gun in hand.
“Nada.” Mitch shrugged, but kept the rifle trained on the young man groaning on the ground. “It is under control,” he continued in Spanish. “I am supposed to get these men out of here and bring her to Solis.”
The guard nodded, and coughed up some phlegm, spitting it a short distance from Zach’s leg. “You need me to get help? It won’t take but a minute to line these guys up against the wall.”
“No, no.” Perspiration and chills combated over Mitch’s skin.
Alex was struggling to kneel. He let her do so, but kept the gun trained on the submissive couple at his feet. “Solis said they are free to go. He is only interested in the woman.”
“Beh.” The guard muttered, now disinterested. He waved a hand in the air and called in auxiliaries.
They emerged from out of nowhere, jogging from behind buildings and out of parked Jeeps−a group of ten men with assault weapons. It reminded Mitch of their quick assault on the dock in Newark. He wavered and reached for Alex again and she fought him for all she was worth. “No, dammit, he needs help.”
“You want your men freed?” he barked at her. “Then you come with me and gather them up.”
He yanked her up against his side and dragged her towards the doorway−into the shadowed anonymity within.
Chuck and Wes had a hold of her in seconds, dragging her out of the sun while Mitch stood within the doorframe, blocking the view inside with his body.
“This is it.” He commanded to those behind him. “Zach was shot in the shoulder. There’s a lot of blood, but it is not a mortal wound. Just get him out of here now and attend to him on the outside. I am going to hold onto Alex as collateral for your safety. I don’t want to risk them shooting any of you once you pass through the gate.”
Alex tore her eyes from Zach’s writhing form. “Mitch is right.” She breathed in. “Zach will be okay, but you need to leave now before they start to question what Mitch has told them. Now, Wes.”
Wes opened his mouth in protest, but nodded and turned to address the distraught faces. “Alright, I will go first. Chuck, you and Ted take care of Zachary.” He nodded again. “Come on. Let’s get this done!”
Once Wes took that first step, it was like a levee had been breached and the bodies fell in behind him. With someone to lead, brevity returned and there was no hesitation as they executed a wide birth around Zach’s body and lifted cynical glances at the ensemble of armed guards. As long as Wes kept walking, they would follow. Mitch silently urged Hollywood on and then turned when he sensed Chuck at his side.
“Take care of her,” Chuck whispered.
“Gonna do my damndest to get her out of here and catch up with you shortly. Don’t trust them, Chuck. I’m serious, man, don’t trust them at all.”
Chuck nodded. “I don’t. But you and Alex are right. We have to do this. The longer we stay, the more agitated they’ll grow.”
“Look, head south.” Mitch advised. “The jungle was spared from the fire at the rear of the compound−probably because they targeted the path of the fire to channel us here.”
Chuck’s eyes flared. “Got it. We’re heading to Ramonez to get the students transportation home. After that, Wes and I are coming back.”
“Don’t mess with this. I mean it. Don’t come back.” Mitch moved in behind Chuck and leveled the barrel with the USC T-shirt. “Go.”
With one last look at Alex, Chuck followed Ted as they both stooped to assist Zach off the ground. The young man whimpered, but he was able to walk on his own with his arm clasped tight to his chest.
Mitch followed them out, and took a hold of Alex’s bicep, no longer feeling the flex of resistance there. In her, he sensed defeat.
Commands volleyed between soldiers, trailed by the rumble of the behemoth gate skating steel wheels across ruts in the dirt. Mitch watched the group advance in single file, aware of the snipers mounted in their turrets. As Chuck’s bright shirt passed through the opening and the clamor of the wheels started again, Alex’s arm fell slack in his grip.
“I pray for them,” she whispered.
“The guys will move quickly now. The next few moments will tell all.”
They were not given the luxury to await the verdict.
“Don’t keep Solis waiting.” Their voyeuristic guard approached, lifting a cigarette to his mouth and dangling it there like he had eaten a mouse and only the tail remained visible.
“Right.” Mitch pointed his gun towards the staircase and gave Alex a slight shove. “Vamos.”
Alex’s feet were sluggish as she craned in the direction of the front gate. Her delay riled the guard. He pointed his rifle up towards the sky and shot off two rounds. “Pronto!”
At the sound of the discharge, Alex’s knees buckled and Mitch slipped an arm around her waist as if he was going to haul her for the rest of the way−a gesture that earned whistles from several of the guards. The only saving grace was that this incident and his brusque grasp beneath Alex’s breasts shifted everyone’s focus on them as the students were forgotten.
***
There was no single force left to elicit movement. Alex felt exhaustion on an inconceivable level. She wanted nothing more than to drop to her knees and weep.
Who was this woman? This weak woman? Alexandra Langley had no time for fear. She had no time for fatigue or vulnerability. She would fend for herself. She always did.
After achieving her doctoral degree at Berkeley, grants were impossible to come by at first. Persistence and a couple of lucrative projects in forensic archeology, along with a shift in fieldwork paid off and she began to build a reputation.
And what did that reputation get her? The University of California set her up with a class of students. The Museum of Historical Art and Antiquities provided her with a grant−and she nearly lost every student entrusted to her and she would never see a grant again.
She could feel the arm around her side, firm and encouraging, but it was just a manacle that kept her from sinking into the ground. She wanted to discard that barrier. She clawed at it, but it wouldn’t budge. She wanted sleep because sleep would hide the pain.
“Stay strong for me, Alex,” a voice whispered in her ear.
It sounded like the brush of sapodilla tree leaves, but the sapodilla trees were all dead. Their whisper would beckon her no more. The fire had killed them.
“I need you, Alex.” The leaves called again with a husky resonance. “We have to make it out of here together.”
Alex clawed at the iron bar around her waist. Was she trapped in a cage?
Had they thrown her in a cell?
“Alexandra.” She felt lethargic−incapable of opening her eyes, but she heard the voice. “Alex, we are here. Come back to me.”
Her eyes opened and the first thing she sought out was the band around her stomach. It was not metal. It was a muscular arm with a tickling of light brown hair across the flexor. Fresh scratches and red welts marred the tan surface. She looked up and the sight of the staircase jarred her. She recognized the metal skeleton with its grated plates and defective railing. At the top of the steps the wire-meshed landing stirred up a feeling of dread as if she were approaching the gallows.
“I have to bring you up there. If I don’t, we’re as good as dead on the spot.”
Those words jarred her. It was Mitch’s arm around her, keeping her from falling to the ground, and it was his voice that spoke−not the trees, and it was his fear and concern she could feel in the rigid plank of muscles pressed up against her back.
“I’m sorry, Mitch. I−I lost it there for a few minutes.” Her hand flailed. “The gunshot. It was the one sound I feared the most.”
“I know, babe.”
She felt his lips brush her hair, and she remembered the kiss they had shared not very long ago. So many emotions in such a brief span of time.
As best she could calculate, her team was safely away. There had been no shots except for the trigger-happy guard shooting into the air…and the shot that took Zach down.
With her students gone, there was no time to wallow in self-pity. There was someone else for her to protect. There was someone else she cared about−someone that she needed to take charge for. The adrenaline of having a purpose kicked in.
“Okay, this is pretty straightforward, Mitchell. You turn me over and you get your ass out of here and catch up with my men.”
“Christ.” Mitch swiped at his face and looked around to see if their loitering had drawn attention.
“You can get to Ramonez and send back the authorities for me,” she offered to pacify what looked like a man growing angrier by the second. She could not see his eyes behind the sunglasses, but she recognized the rigid set of the shoulders. It was the same stance he exhibited moments before nearly kissing her in the jungle. He was riled.
“There is no time for this, Alex. We’re going in together. You’re going to make a civil attempt to negotiate your release and if that is not met in a matter of seconds, I will bargain by other means.”
So many times she had listened to the bravado of her students. Chuck and Wes would often assert themselves−but in the end she would just nod and resolve the issue herself. This was not bravado she was hearing. This was not a man-beating-chest speech. Mitch would resort to whatever was necessary to protect her and it was as simple as that. The notion stabbed at the establishment she had created. For once she felt she had a peer, a person to share the control with. For once she felt she could have a mate.
And in a matter of minutes they would both probably be dead.
“Mitch?” She started up the steps.
“Hmmm?” He searched the courtyard before following after her.
“I think I like you.”
He snorted. “I’m swooning.”
She reached the top of the stairs and stepped aside on the landing, waiting for him to fall in behind her. He moved in close in the tight confines. Not just a few hours ago she had felt revulsion as she was pressed against the wall by Solis. Now the male form that adhered to her body ignited reactions quite the contrary.
Mitch touched her arm, and whispered, “We can’t have this conversation yet, but yes, Doctor,” he grinned. “I like you too.”
Alex could barely distinguish the shadow of his eyes behind the mirrored lenses, but the reflection of herself was troubling and she turned away from it. She heard Mitch rifle through the keys. “How many goddamn locked doors do these people have?”
Once inside, Alex wanted to grab Mitch’s hand for reinforcement, but that was another recently acquired sign of weakness.
Mitch yanked his cap down over his forehead and cocked his head as if to ask, how do I look? She nodded, thinking that his hair was dark enough to pass for one of the soldiers, and his eyes were obscured behind the lenses. She didn’t want to venture a guess as to the source of his outfit, but it was a perfect fit. Even she had fallen for the disguise.
“This is the last time we speak.” He leaned in to whisper against her ear. “No matter what happens−if we are separated, I will come for you. Hold on to that, Alex.”
She bobbed her head with a little too much verve, feeling moisture behind her eyes.
Mitch touched her chin and lifted it towards his descending mouth. His lips brushed hers and that dampness began to pool. She mewled when he withdrew.
“Okay.” He seemed nervous and that set her stress into full gear. “Let’s go.”
***
Walking down the corridor, this time Alex noticed the minuet chandeliers lighting the path, the amber crystals giving it a vintage feel. It was as if Liberaci had been consigned to garnish this hallway. They reached the door to Solis’s office and she heard Mitch’s deep intake before he squeezed her arm and then rapped his fist on the door.
A muted summons emanated from inside as Mitch opened the door and ushered Alex in.
“Caramba! You took long enough.”
Solis stood at his wood-paneled bar, holding a crystal goblet half-filled with rich bourbon-colored liquor. This was not a good sign, Alex thought. Solis was intoxicated and it was not even noon. Negotiations with an inebriated radical were going to be problematic to say the least.
“The only way to get her to cooperate was to release her men.” Mitch’s Latin inflection rumbled behind her. Before today she had no idea that he spoke fluent Spanish.
Solis waved a bejeweled hand in the air. “Aye, I know. I know. I saw.” He held the decanter up in invitation towards Alex. “Rum or tequila?”
“No thank you. It is a little too early for me.”
Solis set the decanter back down and then scowled at Mitch. “Get back to work. You are not needed anymore.”
Alex could feel the anxiety in the hand wrapped around her arm. Her bicep twitched a silent signal to leave. He remained still.
“Bastante!” Solis grew agitated. “I am done with you. Go!”
To hell with it. Alex turned so that she could look into Mitch’s eyes. Though she could only see her own pleading glance in the reflective lenses, she blinked to convey that she could handle this man.
“Let go of me,” she yanked her arm away.
Mitch’s stare lingered until it became awkward. He tipped his head at Solis and vacated the room.
With the click of the door shutting behind him, despair made the sting of the air conditioning more prevalent. Alex was conscious of her inadequate attire of boots, shorts and tank top, an ensemble that Solis now devoured with his eyes.
“Feisty, you are, Dr. Langley. You don’t like to be held against your will, do you?”
“Is there someone who does?”
Solis seemed unfazed by her resentment and downed the contents of his tumbler. He set the glass down and started towards her. It was a test and she had no intention of retreating. Solis stood face to face with her and she realized that he was only an inch or two taller, the difference in height most likely coming from his elevated loafers.
To her horror the back of his hand grazed her cheek with the diamond-studded gold ring. It felt frigid to the touch, but even worse was when he extended his finger and she felt that pad of flesh against her. She struggled not to recoil or to avert her gaze from the penetrating black eyes that measured her every reaction. She strived not to cough at the strong vapor emanating from his open lips. She would give him nothing.
“So beautiful, Señorita. So beautiful. I will enjoy having you here.” His hand slipped to her neck as he sculpted it and fanned his fingers across her shoulder.
“You shot one of my students.”
He seemed take
n aback as if he had expected her to whimper at his touch or beg for release.
“As I saw it from here, your student was disruptive and you could not control him. My men were given orders to keep the prisoners in line by any means necessary.”
“Prisoners.” She spit out the word as if it were snake venom. “I know that you started the fire that brought us here. This is your jungle too. You used to stay secluded, protected by a net of forestry that few would brave to trek through. Was it worth it? Was it worth it to lose that free security just to get your hands on one more archeologist?”
The hands on comment seemed all he focused on at first as he grinned at her breasts. But then he shook his head and stepped back, scorn marring what she had once thought was a decent looking face.
“No, for me it was not worth it.” He stepped over to the bar and refilled his tumbler, once again holding up the decanter in tender.
Her head jerked in denial.
“The damage is nowhere near as extensive as you think, however. We sculpted the fire to lead you directly to our front door. You were disoriented inside the flames and smoke.” He hefted the glass. “Just curious, how did you know we started it?”
Alex looked beyond him to the bank of windows, searching for Mitch amidst the soldiers pacing the courtyard.
“One of my men noticed the empty gasoline canisters.”
Solis frowned. She banked on the fact that alcohol was reducing his clarity.
“I’ll make sure that whoever was responsible for leaving the canisters in view is−reprimanded. Anyway, I am told that you are the last one.”
The last one of what? Told by whom? Wasn’t he the man in charge?
“Alright, I’ve had enough of the drama.” Alex grew impatient. If he was going to attempt to rape her, get on with it. He had no weapon that she could see, and she would exhaust all her efforts to inflict pain and thwart a sexual assault. “Why did you bring me here? I’m the last one of what?”
Solis poured more alcohol into the tumbler and once again held the glass aloft in invitation. “Seriously, you might want some.”
Jungle of Deceit Page 10