All's Fair in Love and War: A story of love and betrayal

by J Theron

  Do not cry, do not cry, she kept saying over and over again. She closed her eyes and an image of Ryan lying on the floor with the blood trickling from his head flashed through her brain.

  She could no longer control her body and doubled over as she started to vomit. The tea she had a few hours earlier came back up and she sank to the floor of the shower as she started to sob. The water of the shower washed over her head and she turned her face towards the spray to wash away the tears that did not want to stop flowing. She lost track of how long she sat on the floor of the shower, unable to move, and only came to her senses when Carlos opened the shower door.

  “Gabrielle, what the hell! You have to get out, love.”

  “What are you doing in my bathroom?” she managed to say when the initial shock wore off.

  “I was getting worried because you were taking so long.”

  “Get away! I’m naked,” she sobbed.

  “I’m not looking,” he replied as he leaned over her and closed the taps. He wrapped a thick towel around her and lifted her out of the shower. He walked into her bedroom and placed her on the bed.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “I’m fine. Please leave so that I can get dressed,” she replied.

  He hesitated. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes! I’m sure! I’m not a child.”

  “I’m going out for food. I can see that it’s not a good idea to take you out,” he said after a few seconds.

  She did not reply, but nodded her head. He looked at her with a worried expression on his face before he walked out and pulled her bedroom door shut. She looked at her closet and tried to muster the energy to get up and get dressed. She finally rolled over and pulled on a white tank top and a pair of boxer shorts that used to belong to Ryan.

  When Ryan’s lawyer read the instructions Ryan had left with him before his departure to Colombia, she was stunned to find out that she was Ryan’s only beneficiary in case he was killed or missing in action. She left his furniture in his apartment but had the rest of his belongings packed up and stacked the boxes in her apartment, except for some of his clothes and his cologne which she kept in her closet. When she was feeling particularly desperate she would spray his cologne on his shirts and then put them on. The familiar smell would soothe her slightly and enable her to fall asleep.

  She was busy combing her hair when Carlos knocked on her closed bedroom door and said, “I’m back. The food is hot. Let’s eat.”

  She opened the door and was surprised when the smell of Chinese food stirred a feeling of hunger inside. She had forgotten what it felt like to actually have an appetite. She did not say anything, but sat down at the island in her kitchen and watched while Carlos searched the kitchen cabinets until he found her wine glasses.

  He had already found her plates and cutlery and was dishing the food in the plate he placed in front of her. He then proceeded to fill their glasses with red wine and took a sip while taking a seat on the opposite side of the island.

  “Nice place you have here, when it’s not a pigsty,” he said as his eyes travelled over the clean lines of the modern apartment overlooking Central Park. “How did you afford a place in Manhattan?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Excuse me if I’m not in the mood to clean my apartment. And not that it’s any of your business, but I have a trust fund. My mother’s family was rich and she was an only child, like me, so the money came to me. I haven’t touched the money in years though. I bought this apartment when I moved in with my boyfriend during medical school. He knew I had the money and he convinced me. I was young and stupid and in love and I fell for his shit. In the end we broke up, but I decided to keep it as an investment. Now I use it when I’m in the U.S.”

  “You fell for his shit? I’m surprised. I didn’t think you would allow a man to tell you what to do.”

  “Fortunately I learn from my mistakes,” she replied.

  “Just out of interest, do you know a Doctor James Smith?” he asked in a matter-of-fact voice.

  She knocked over her wine glass when he said the name of the man who ruined her life. “Shit!” she exclaimed as she grabbed her glass to contain the mess.

  Carlos jumped up and grabbed some paper towels. He helped her to wipe up the wine and dumped the soaked towels in the kitchen sink.

  Gabrielle sat back down and looked at him intently. She never expected to hear that name from his lips. “Why do you ask if I know James?”

  “I recently found out he was in Afghanistan the same time you were there. I thought maybe you knew him.”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  He looked indecisive. “I can’t tell you.”

  She had to swallow down the bile that was rising in her throat. “That son-of-a-bitch drugged Ryan and blackmailed one of the nurses to sleep with him. He set it up so that I walked in on Ryan and that slut.”

  He could not hide the shocked expression on his face. “So that’s why you left Ryan?”

  She nodded. “Yes. We figured out what happened when we were stuck in the jungle. I was planning on finding James when I got home and confronting him. I just haven’t been able to muster the energy.”

  He seemed to ponder his next statement. “We’re about to arrest him,” he said finally.

  She sat back in shock. “For what?”

  “Drug trafficking. He was my one of my most faithful suppliers of morphine. Of course he didn’t realize that he was supplying a DEA agent.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t say I’m surprised. But I never suspected that.”

  He looked at her thoughtfully. “I’m sorry about Ryan, Gabrielle.”

  “Do you know if the investigation has turned up anything? Have they found his body?”

  He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Not yet.”

  “So what you’re saying is, is that we left him there and he could still be alive?”

  He shook his head. “Valentina shot him in the head.”

  Gabrielle slapped with her open palm on the granite surface of the island. “I’ve seen men survive bullet wounds to the head! The bullet could have travelled under the surface of the skin without penetrating the skull depending on the angle at which she held the gun when she pulled the trigger. It’s called a tangential gunshot wound. The force could be enough to cause loss of consciousness, but he would be alive and possibly neurologically completely normal!”

  Carlos shook his head. “You have to let this go. He’s dead. You have to move on. The men probably disposed of his body to get rid of the evidence.”

  “I’ll believe it when I see his body. I’ve been thinking about this for the last week. I’m going back to Colombia. I have to be sure,” she said in a calm voice.

  He took a sip of his wine as he studied her face. “I don’t suppose anything I say will make a difference.”

  “No, and you’re coming with me.”

  “That is one of the worst ideas I’ve ever heard. The cartel is looking for us. It will be like walking around with a giant neon sign on our heads that flashes: Please kill us. We’re fucking stupid. We don’t deserve to live.”

  “You used to be the leader of the most dangerous cartel in Colombia,” she said simply.

  “And your point is?”

  “You have contacts. We can get passports and disguises,” she replied.

  “Your father will fuck me up!”

  “Not if we find Ryan.”

  “The CIA is already looking for him, Gabrielle.”

  “But Colombia is your home. You know every person who can help us. I’m positive that if anybody can find him, it’s you.”

  Carlos looked unconvinced. “I don’t know. If something happens to you, I’ll be a dead man walking.”

  “You owe me this, Carlos. He’s not dead. Please? I’m begging you? We have to do this now while my father’s in Russia.”

  He rolled his eyes and sighed. “Okay. I’ll go, but you’re not coming with me.”

  “I’m going! What if
Ryan needs medical attention? How many times did my medical skills come in handy while we were there? I have to go,” she said.

  He contemplated her answer. “You have a point, and you know how to handle yourself. But that doesn’t mean that I like this harebrained idea that developed in an otherwise very smart brain.”

  “Thank you,” she murmured.

  He was quiet and then he said, “I know how it feels to leave someone behind. I feel guilty for leaving Ryan. That is why I’ll help you. I don’t want his disappearance on my conscience.”

  She nodded. “I understand. You won’t be sorry.”

  “I know a guy that will be able to help us.” He took a large gulp of his wine and placed the empty glass on the granite surface. “I’m hoping we can get in and out before anybody realizes we’re gone. I have a friend in the DEA. I’ll leave a message with him to contact your father if he doesn’t hear from me in four days. Get dressed. Let’s go.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes. Let’s get this over with.”

  She jumped up. “Give me fifteen minutes to pack.”

  “You have ten,” he shouted as she rushed down the corridor to her bedroom.

  CHAPTER 19

  Colombia, present day.

  Ryan opened his eyes and looked at his surroundings. It was a small square bedroom with one window to the foot of the bed, whitewashed walls and simple wooden furniture consisting of a bed and a bedside table. The plain brown curtains were closed and he could not see where he was or what time of day it was.

  The room looked completely unfamiliar and he tried to remember what happened to him and how he got there. He sat up and turned his head to focus on the middle aged woman who had entered the room without knocking. She was wearing a long, loose flowery dress and her hair was braided with the silver braid hanging over her shoulder. She was short and slightly overweight, but she looked healthy and full of energy.

  “Who are you, and where am I,” he asked, his confusion growing by the second.

  She looked up and seemed surprised to find him awake, but she did not answer his question. She merely placed a tray with food and a glass of water on the bedside table and turned around to exit the room.

  “Stop. Please tell me where I am and what’s going on,” he asked, trying desperately to remain calm. The last clear memory he had was shooting at the men in the hotel and then the horror he felt when Valentina pressed the gun to his head.

  He could not remember what happened to Gabrielle and he was becoming more agitated by the second. He lifted his hand to his hair and was surprised to feel a linear healing wound on his scalp, just below the hairline of his forehead.

  The woman shrugged and a brief look of sympathy crossed her face as she walked out of the room and locked the door behind her. Ryan wanted to scream when he heard the lock turn. He threw back the blanket that covered his body and attempted to swing his feet to the floor when he realized his right foot was chained to the bed. He moved his leg and could tell that there was no way he could break either the chain or the wood of the bed.

  He was surprised when he noticed that he was dressed in clean cargo pants and a white T-shirt. Whoever held him captive at least kept him clean and fed. He fell back on the bed and tried to remember what happened after the shooting incident in the hotel. He had brief flashes of being dragged out of the hotel, travelling in a vehicle and being cared for in this room. He could not tell if it was memories or his imagination running away with him because he was so desperately trying to remember.

  He gingerly touched the scar on his forehead and could feel an entry and an exit wound where the bullet travelled under his skin. He concluded that Valentina must have pulled the trigger after all and that he was incredibly lucky to be alive. The fact that the wound has already healed indicated that he had been held in this room for a couple of weeks at least.

  He looked at the food on the table next to the bed and contemplated not eating it. It looked like some sort of meat stew and the sight of the food made him acutely aware of the hunger pangs he could no longer ignore. He decided to take his chances and eat it. If his captors wanted him dead, they could have done it very easily by now.

  As he swallowed the stew, his mind kept returning to Gabrielle. He had to get out of this room and find her. He did not even want to think what could have happened to her after he was shot. He could not allow his mind to go there, because he would go insane and it would be counterproductive.

  The irony of the situation was not lost on him. He was sent to find Gabrielle and he ended up being held captive. How could he be so stupid to miss the fact that Valentina was completely unhinged? He thought back to all the times he spent with Valentina and he never once suspected her capable of killing in cold blood. He liked Valentina, and he considered her a friend, a friend who tried to kill him by shooting him in the head. He placed the empty plate on the table and waited for the woman to come back and fetch it, a routine he suspected she followed to the letter.

  He did not have to wait long before the door opened, but it was not the woman who brought the food earlier. It was a man who stepped into the room and he looked vaguely familiar. He seemed tall, but he was hunched over and he had unkempt brown hair that partially obscured his facial features. His clothes were ill-fitting and needed a good wash.

  Ryan watched the strange man as he shuffled towards the bed. His head was downcast and Ryan could not see his face clearly, although he just could not shake the feeling that he knew this peculiar man.

  “Who are you?” Ryan asked when the stranger stopped next to the bed. The man looked up and Ryan was speechless when he recognized the blue eyes belonging to Carlos Rodriguez.

  “Hello, Ryan. Glad to see me?” he smirked.

  Ryan was still staring at Carlos when his attention turned to the door. It opened again and Gabrielle stepped into the room. She was also wearing a wig and clothes that were supposed to make her look like a young boy, but even though she was wearing a very convincing disguise, Ryan would have recognized her in a crowd of hundreds of people.

  They were both frozen, neither one fully comprehending the fact that they had found each other. Ryan was the first one who spoke. “Gabrielle…”

  She gave a sob and rushed to his bed. She grabbed his face between her hands and started to rain kisses over his cheeks, forehead and mouth. “I knew you were alive,” she cried. “I knew it!”

  Ryan sat up as far as he could with the chained leg and pulled her onto his lap. “Hey baby,” he murmured.

  Carlos stood quietly in the corner and observed them without saying anything. Ryan looked in his direction and noticed a strange expression on his face. He knew without a doubt that Carlos was desperately in love with Gabrielle and what it must have taken to bring her here to find him.

  “Thank you, Carlos,” he said.

  Carlos nodded. “Anytime, Evans.”

  “Where are we?”

  “In the same village. Not far from Hotel California. The local villagers found you and hid you from the cartel, hoping they could get a ransom when you were better. Fortunately they were happy to chat once Carlos, the Killer showed up. We need to move though, because the cartel will figure out that we’re back. I sabotaged the telephone lines and temporarily cut off their means of communication, but it will only give us enough time to get a small head start.

  “I’m more than happy to get out of here,” Ryan said, “but I have a small problem of being tied to the bed.”

  “I have a little surprise,” Carlos said as he pushed his hand into the pockets of his pants. He pulled a set of keys from his pants and held them up. “I came prepared.”

  Ryan grinned. “Hell just froze over.”

  Carlos inserted the key into the lock and Ryan felt relieved as the chain fell to the floor. Carlos looked up and asked, “What do you mean?”

  “I love you, Carlos, and I thought hell would freeze over before I even found you slightly likeable,” Ryan replied.

  Carlos smirk
ed. “I still think you’re a pain in the ass.”

  “Thanks,” Ryan said. “From you that’s probably a compliment.

  “We still have to get out of here. Thank me when we’re back in the States,” Carlos laughed.

  “I’ll do that. Time to get out of here,” Ryan said.

  Gabrielle helped him to stand and supported him with her body. “Will you be able to travel?” she asked.

  “I’ll walk out of here, even if it’s the last thing I do,” Ryan said with a defiant look on his face.

  She nodded and said, “I didn’t expect anything less. And remember that I love you.”

  “Thank you for coming for me,” Ryan said. He still could not believe that Gabrielle risked her life to find him.

  “You would’ve done the same for me,” she whispered. “In fact, you did do the same for me.”

  Ryan kissed her on the forehead. “Always.”

  EPILOGUE

  Afghanistan, 3 years ago.

  Jennifer tried to suppress the feeling of agitation as she waited for James in the hospital supply room. She was sweating profusely and her muscles ached to such a degree that it was painful to stand. She didn’t know how much longer she would be able to wait before going completely crazy. James had been difficult the last few days and refused to give her, her twice daily dose of morphine.

  Jennifer wiped the perspiration from her forehead with the back of her hand. She didn’t know how she was going to get out of this. Never in her wildest dreams did she think that she would end up addicted to opioids. It started after she hurt her lower back in a horse riding accident. She was in chronic pain and her physician prescribed oxycodone. She kept taking it, but when she came to Afghanistan she had to steal oxycodone from the medical supply cabinet. It became increasingly difficult to forge the prescription charts and she was becoming desperate. One evening she was standing with morphine in her hand and the temptation was just too great.

  The patient was sleeping and she only gave half the dose. She came to the same supply room she was waiting in now and injected the morphine. Unfortunately for her, James walked in as the needle was in her arm. She thought she was the only member of the medical personnel left in the hospital. There were only a few patients in the hospital and everybody else had gone to their sleeping quarters, leaving her on duty for the night. She thought she would not get caught. She was wrong.