by Dee Davis
“Maybe they’re here for drugs,” Aunt Tandy whispered after Lara dropped back to the floor, her mind racing with questions.
“It’s possible. We don’t have much here at the moment, but in this country, everything has value on the black market—especially medicine—so it’s possible.”
“What are we going to do?” Aunt Tandy asked, her eyes still full of anger.
“I’m going to try and find Kim.” Or if not him, then the gun he kept in his office. She wasn’t certain it would truly accomplish anything, but she knew that it was only a matter of time before they were discovered, which meant that if she was going to act, the time was now. “You’ll be safer here. Just stay down and keep the curtain closed.”
Aunt Tandy opened her mouth to argue but apparently thought better of it. With a nod, she settled in the corner behind the examination table. “Go quickly, before there’s any more trouble.”
“I’ll come back, I promise,” Lara said as she pushed to her feet and slipped out of the curtained cubicle, heading for the hallway. The storeroom was down the hall to her right, the office just around the corner to the left. She had no idea where Kim might be, but if Tandy was correct and the men were here for drugs, they’d be in the storeroom—which meant she couldn’t risk going that way. Better to get to the office and the gun.
She’d just reached the examination room doorway when another volley of shots rang out, this one clearly from a machine gun. She pressed against the wall, her mind trying to place the gunfire—maybe from the waiting room or possibly one of the surgical suites near the supply room. It was hard to be certain.
She inched her way back to the cubicle and Aunt Tandy. “If the man in back leaves his post or turns away, go out the window and head for home as fast as you can.” Lara reached for a piece of paper and a pencil, scribbling down radio coordinates. “If you get out, find a radio and call for help.” She handed the old woman the paper. “If someone finds you…”
“I’ll be careful,” Aunt Tandy said with a gummy smile. “Old age makes you tricky.”
Lara nodded and grabbed a scalpel out of the drawer. It wasn’t the best of weapons, but it was sharp as hell, and it made her feel better to have at least some semblance of protection. With a last look in Aunt Tandy’s direction, she slipped from the cubicle and headed again for the door, this time waiting a beat and then shifting to take a look into the hallway.
There was no sign of immediate danger, but she could hear the gunmen moving in the storeroom. Moving quickly in the opposite direction, scalpel at the ready, Lara rounded the corner and stopped abruptly. Kim was sprawled across the floor just a few feet from the door that led into the waiting room, a pool of blood spreading beneath him. After a furtive look behind her, she knelt, her shaking fingers closing on his wrist as she tried in vain to find a pulse.
Pain knifed through her as she reached out to close his eyes, her heart twisting at the loss of her friend. Then years of training took control, and after checking his body for weapons, she pushed up from the floor and slipped over to the door for a quick peek into the waiting room.
Two men stood watch there, both, like the man in the back, holding machine guns, and she could see a third standing on the front porch. A woman, probably the one Kim had referenced earlier, was slumped in one of the chairs, clearly dead. There was no sign of the other patient, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still here somewhere. Most likely also dead.
For a moment, Lara considered going back to check on Aunt Tandy, but she resisted the urge, knowing that until she was armed, she wasn’t really going to be of any use to anyone. And Aunt Tandy, for all her age, was one tough customer. If anyone could escape a rebel attack unscathed, it was Aunt Tandy.
She waited a beat, then retreated back into the hallway and ducked into the office, the room thankfully empty. Crossing to Kim’s desk, Lara yanked open the bottom drawer and frowned as she looked at the contents. No gun. She’d seen it on numerous occasions—always in the bottom drawer, an extra box of ammo sitting beside it.
But it clearly wasn’t here now. With a whispered curse, she opened the remaining drawers one by one, searching through the paraphernalia there, but there was no sign of the weapon.
Where the hell had he put it?
She crossed to the filing cabinet, searched the drawers, and even pulled the cabinet out from the wall in the vain hope that maybe Kim had hidden the gun there, but the wall and floor mocked her with their emptiness.
Damn it all to hell.
She could hear footsteps drawing closer. Then they stopped, conceivably at the exam room where Aunt Tandy was hiding, and Lara had to force herself not to go back. Every second was precious, and there was nothing she could do for the woman now. Hopefully, she’d already made her escape.
Abandoning her efforts to find Kim’s gun, Lara approached the little desk that held the radio and tried to raise Rafe, but there was no response. He must be out of range. So with an ear still tuned to the hallway, Lara changed the frequency to the coordinates she’d given Aunt Tandy. There wasn’t anything A-Tac could do for her in the short run, but if she could raise Hannah or the new guy Harrison maybe, they’d be able to contact someone in the area to send help.
At least A-Tac had the luxury of both time and state-of-the-art equipment.
She listened to the static and prayed for reception. Seconds ticked by and then suddenly she heard Hannah.
“Lara? Is that you?”
“I’m here, Hannah, but we’ve got—” Before she could complete the thought, the radio went dead. The sound of footsteps grew louder as they picked up the pace. Frantically, she tried to consider her options. The room’s only window led out to the front porch and the man standing guard there, and her scalpel was hardly a match for machine guns. Moving at a sprint now, she headed for a door in the far wall of the office. It led to a small anteroom—the place where Rafe slept when he wasn’t on duty.
Surely he’d have a weapon stashed somewhere.
The tiny room was almost empty, a nightstand and a bed the only furniture, a duffel in the corner serving as storage for clothing by the looks of it. Clearly, Rafe was a man who traveled light.
She ran over to the duffel, yanking the zipper to open the bag. She searched through Rafe’s belongings, ignoring anything that didn’t offer some kind of protection. At the very bottom of the bag, she hit paydirt—a Sig Sauer.
Something moved behind her, and she swung around, firing the gun. There was a hollow click and then nothing. No report—no bullets. She hadn’t had time to check the chamber.
The man in the doorway smiled, lifting his gun, his finger tightening on the trigger.
Chapter 3
Rafe Winters drove back to the compound, consumed by his own thoughts. Emile, who was usually quite talkative, had been preoccupied for most of the drive, which suited Rafe just fine. The events of last night kept replaying themselves over and over, leaving him more and more confused. Despite his reputation, he wasn’t the kind of man who jumped into the sack with just anyone.
But Lara had walked into the clinic a year ago, and he’d had a hard-on ever since, not to mention the fact that he was attracted to her on more than a physical level. She was strong, smart, compassionate, and wounded. Big time. So he’d bided his time, waiting for the right opportunity.
And last night, he’d found it. Only just when he’d thought maybe there was a chance—she’d fallen apart in his arms, sobbing over a dead man. Any other guy would have run for the hills, but she’d been so vulnerable, he couldn’t bring himself to leave. Instead, he’d held her as she cried and damned himself for being a fool. And then, at first light, he’d walked away, knowing that she wouldn’t want to face him.
Hell, she probably wanted to pretend the whole thing never happened.
He blew out a long breath, his fingers tightening around the steering wheel. It was all for the best anyway. He wasn’t exactly the kind of man who could afford connections—of any kind. It only made h
is life more dangerous. Especially now. And he couldn’t even contemplate what it could mean for someone he allowed himself to love.
It’s just that Lara had gotten under his skin. She understood the kind of life he led. The fact had given him hope. But now, driving along the rutted road that led back to the settlement, he just felt stupid. He knew better than to open his heart. And worst of all, he’d taken advantage during her moment of vulnerability. Maybe he deserved his reputation after all.
“Hang on,” Emile said, frowning as he pointing out the front window. “What’s that?”
Ahead of them, they could see a pillar of black smoke billowing up into the tree-rimmed sky. Rafe’s heart raced as he floored the Range Rover’s accelerator. “I think it’s the clinic.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Emile said, leaning forward as he strained for a better view of the now burgeoning smoke. “What could have happened to set the clinic on fire?”
“I don’t know”—Rafe shook his head—“but I’ve got a bad feeling. It started when the radio went on the fritz.” He’d tried to radio the clinic, to at least check in with Lara, but the damn thing wouldn’t work—no static, no nothing. And now…
They rounded the last curve, heading into the settlement. The first thing he saw was a body lying beside the road. “Son of a bitch,” he said, pressing his foot harder against the accelerator. The old truck surged forward with a groan.
“What the hell happened here?” Emile frowned as they passed a second body.
“I don’t know, but it wasn’t something good.” Rafe turned at an intersection, taking the road leading to the clinic, trying not to think about Lara. Along the way they spotted at least two more bodies and a burning house, the source of the smoke they’d seen. When they passed another body and another burning house, the whole thing began to take on a surreal feeling, as if they’d been dropped into the middle of a war zone, which wasn’t that far from the truth. There were rebel forces in the area. Hell, that’s why he’d been sent here in the first place.
But so far, there hadn’t been any overt attacks on the settlement, only the occasional outbreak of violence in more remote locations, usually predicated by the movement of drugs or arms or other contraband. Now, however, things had clearly escalated. Rafe just prayed that Lara and Kim had managed to get away.
He pulled the Range Rover up in front of the clinic, reaching for his gun. Emile was already getting out of the car, mindless of the potential for more danger, his mind, as always, on his patients—one of whom was sprawled across the front porch stairs.
“Be careful,” Rafe called as he moved past Emile, heading for the clinic’s front door. Inside the waiting room, there was a woman slumped in a chair. He automatically reached for her pulse, but she was already gone. He moved into the hallway, leading with his gun, his senses on high alert. “Please, God,” he whispered, his mind turning to Lara, her smile filling his thoughts. “Please.”
The storage room had been tossed—medicines, bandages, and equipment thrown everywhere. He bent to pick up a bottle, surprised to see that it was oxycodone. This clearly hadn’t been about drugs. A prickle of fear worked its way up his spine, and his fingers tightened on his gun.
He moved into the adjacent surgical suite and found another body. This time a man slumped in the corner of the room, where he’d clearly been huddled, trying to survive. Again Rafe checked for a pulse, but like the woman, he was already dead. Stepping back into the hall, he checked the other surgical suite, which had also been searched, and then headed back through the waiting room to the office on the other side of the building. He almost tripped over Kim in his haste to try and find Lara.
The doctor was sprawled on the floor of the corridor, his stethoscope still in his hand. Rafe’s heart sank. If Kim had been caught in the gunfire—surely Lara had too. Mindless now of safety, he called her name, rushing into the office. It had been turned upside down, the furniture upended and the contents of file drawers scattered around the room.
Inside the little room that had served as his home for the past year, his things had also been rifled through. But not to the extent of the office. The incongruity bothered him, but he had a more pressing need—to locate Lara.
He headed for the large room that served as the main examination area, its cubicles looking strangely normal after all the carnage. “Lara?” he called, pulling back first one curtain and then a second and a third. “Are you here?” He spun around the room and then headed for the last curtain, jerking it open.
Like the others it was empty. But this time there was blood.
Frowning, he bent to examine the droplets on the floor, noticing a pill bottle lodged under the table. Antacids. Pushing back to his feet, he let his gaze sweep the room again, looking for evidence of a struggle.
“Lara?” he called again. “It’s Rafe…”
Something behind him moved, and he swiveled around and pointed his gun at a grouping of waste containers in front of the windows.
“Who’s there?” he asked, his eyes locked on the larger bin. It was moving. Slowly. And then a small wizened head poked out from behind it, eyes wide with what looked to be anger mixed with fear.
“You’re too late,” Aunt Tandy said, pushing out from behind the refuse.
“Are you okay?” he asked, as he rushed over to help.
“Yes,” she said, with a nod toward the wall behind the containers. “Small space, but fortunately, I am little, too. I hide.”
“Well, you’re safe now,” Rafe said, checking her over for any sign of injury. “They’ve gone.”
“Very bad men.” Her eyes narrowed in anger.
“Did you recognize them?”
She shook her head. “No. But they took Lara.”
Rafe’s heart rate ratcheted upward, dread mixing with relief. At least she was still alive. “Did you see which way they went?”
Aunt Tandy nodded and hobbled over to the window. “There,” she said, pointing out the window. “They go into the jungle.”
“On foot?” Rafe frowned, trying to think what lay beyond the trees. There were few roads in this part of Africa, but animals often established trails, which made a crisscross of pathways through the jungle that the insurgents used to move with little chance of detection.
“Yes. Same as they came. Sneaky bastards.”
Despite the seriousness of the situation, Rafe bit back a smile.
“You go now,” she said, pushing him toward the door. “Save Lara. She needs you.”
The levity vanished as Rafe stared out the window for one last moment. Aunt Tandy was right about one thing. The men who’d taken Lara were bastards. And if he had anything to say about it, there’d be hell to pay.
*****
Lara struggled against the ropes that bound her wrists and feet, trying to loosen them enough to get free. So far she’d made little progress, the skin on the insides of her wrists rubbed bloody from the effort. She was lying on the ground in some kind of a tent in the middle of the jungle. The place was completely empty with nothing at all she could use to help herself get free.
Clearly the men who’d kidnapped her weren’t taking any chances with her escaping. She’d tried to keep track as they’d forced her through the jungle, but they were moving fast, and after a while, one tree looked a hell of a lot like the others. But hopefully she’d managed to leave some markers along the way—a few broken branches and torn leaves. Proverbial bread crumbs as it were.
She wasn’t sure exactly who would come looking for her, but Hannah had to know something was up, even if Lara hadn’t had the chance to explain what it was. Of course, Hannah was a world away, and there was a chance she wouldn’t realize that Lara was in real trouble, which left Rafe. Once he got back to the settlement, he’d find Kim and the others, and surely when he realized she was gone, he’d come after her.
Kidnapping wasn’t as prevalent in Central Africa as it was in certain parts of South America, but it happened, and as an American and a
doctor, Lara was a prime target. Of course, it was also possible that someone had figured out her affiliation with the CIA. If they knew she was a member of A-Tac, that would up the ante quite a bit. Rather than trying to ransom her, they’d probably be looking at finding the highest bidder. Someone who’d value the information she had.
She shivered thinking about the Consortium and what they’d done to Jason. If the kidnappers had made the connection… She sucked in a breath, pushing her fears aside. There was nothing to be gained by panicking. She’d learned a long time ago that the only person she could truly count on was herself, and if she wanted to escape, she’d better get on it.
As she struggled to sit up, something pricked her leg.
The scalpel.
She’d managed to slip it into her pocket when the kidnapper had demanded her gun. Now if only she could reach it. First thing she had to do was move her hands from behind her body to the front so that she could reach her pocket. Using muscles she hadn’t even realized she possessed, Lara pulled herself up into a teetering crouch. Then with gritted teeth, she slid her arms down under her torso and carefully pulled her feet through the flesh and blood circle.
Her muscles screamed in agony, but the maneuver worked, and in short order, she managed to slide her hands into her pocket and pull the scalpel free. Thankfully, she hadn’t been impaled by the damn thing in the process. It only took a few minutes to cut herself free, the surgical steel accomplishing what her physical efforts could not.
After cutting through the rope that bound her feet, she crept to the front of the tent and lifted the door flap slightly so that she could see the encampment. They were in a small clearing, two other tents set up just to the left of the one she occupied. Three men sat maybe eight feet away, grouped around a fire. Although all were fairly relaxed, they each had machine guns slung over their shoulders. And about fifteen feet beyond that, two more men were posted as sentries, their weapons held at the ready.