Without a Trace

by Velvet Vaughn

  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.”

  Wyatt jumped in the shower as soon as Amelia finished and then he helped Ryan inside. It might be the last time they could bathe for a while.

  He and Amelia worked on putting the room back in order and distributing the weight between the two packs. Ryan insisted on carrying one and refused to take no for an answer. They both vetoed Wyatt’s decision to check out the church by himself and he gave up.

  After making sure their weapons were loaded, they filed to the door. They might not let him go solo, but he was definitely going first. He carefully unbolted the door and gently slid the bookcase a crack to peer outside. There were no signs or sounds of life. No chatter, music, nothing. He eased the bookcase the rest of the way open and Amelia and Ryan followed him out, Amelia clutching his belt loop. Ryan made sure to tug the bookcase back in place to keep the room hidden.

  The church was quiet—eerily quiet. And soon they realized why: it was empty. Even the votive candles that were a constant flicker in the back corner were dormant.

  “Do you think they kidnapped him?” Amelia asked.

  Wyatt stopped abruptly before he stepped in the puddle of dried blood on the floor.

  Amelia glanced around him and clutched his arm. “No,” she gasped.

  “We don’t know that it’s Father Juan’s,” he said. But it was. Otherwise, the priest would’ve come back for them. Sadness welled in his heart. Whatever happened to him, he didn’t deserve. He was one of the truly good guys.

  When they reached the door that led outside, he gestured for them to wait. He scanned the perimeter, searching for movement or anything out of the ordinary, but just like the inside of the church, the village felt deserted. The forest was about twenty feet away to the right. They needed to make it to the cover of trees in case someone was watching the building. They couldn’t take the time to check on the occupants of each house.

  “Wyatt.”

  He glanced at Ryan and then followed his gaze to a spot on the ground beside the steps. It was a fresh grave with a cross protruding from the dirt.

  “Damn,” he murmured. That meant they hadn’t kidnapped Father Juan. They’d killed him.

  “What kind of sick sonofabitch kills a priest in a church?” Ryan growled.

  Amelia reached down and picked up the rosary the priest must’ve dropped. Made of Brazilian walnut and accented with gold, it was the one he wore around his neck. She held it against her chest and closed her eyes.

  Father Juan had given his life to keep them safe. Wyatt would make sure his sacrifice wasn’t in vain.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Amelia had a hard time keeping Wyatt in focus as tears flooded her eyes. How could anyone kill sweet, kind Father Juan? He wouldn’t hurt a fly. He’d been their savior, providing them shelter and food when they desperately needed refuge. He knew dangerous people were after them, yet he didn’t hesitate to put himself in harm’s way, welcoming them into his home with open arms. He went above and beyond to make sure they were safe.

  She clutched his rosary in her hand. She thought about keeping it as a reminder of the ultimate sacrifice he’d made for their welfare, but for that she didn’t need a token. His memory would live with her forever. She looped the beads over the door handle. Just like Father Juan, it belonged to the people of the village.

  And what about Pedro, Aline and her parents and the rest of the villagers? There was no sign of movement from any of the huts as they dashed across the open space to the trees. Had they all been killed, too? It went against every instinct she possessed to leave without checking on the others. She might be able to save some if they weren’t all dead. But Wyatt insisted they needed to leave in case someone was watching the village. She knew he was right, but it didn’t ease the guilt she felt leaving them. He promised they’d send someone to check on them when they could. It would have to be enough for now.

  Hours and miles later, her usual optimism was nowhere in sight. They should’ve come to another village by now, or some sign of life besides the ever-present monkeys and colorful birds fluttering overhead and the occasional snake dangling from branches. Those she avoided like the plague. They followed the directions Father Juan had given them and she trusted Wyatt’s navigational skills, but she was deathly afraid they were walking in circles. Everything looked the same in the heart of the jungle.

  Ryan had been a trooper all day, insisting he was fine and that he didn’t need the breaks Wyatt tried to impose. Father Juan had provided bottles of water, but they’d already emptied four today. Still, she’d rather the men ingested plenty of liquid to keep hydrated, Ryan especially since he’d lost so much blood. They were being frugal, but if they ran out, she had purification tablets in case they needed to use water from one of the many streams. Hopefully they’d stumble across civilization before that happened.

  It’d been a few hours since they’d rested. When they came to a group of rocks, they decided to stop and eat a light lunch of bread and jam. After they removed the backpacks, Ryan excused himself to answer nature’s call.

  “How are you doing?” Wyatt asked as they shared a bottle of water.

  “I’m good.”

  “You’re feet?”

  “Good, too,” she lied. Resting for a couple of days and applying antiseptic helped, but the blisters were a constant ache. It’d been impossible to hide the sores from him. His eagle eyes missed nothing. She was able to put the pain out of her head while they were walking knowing Wyatt and Ryan’s injuries were much worse. Neither man had uttered a peep of complaint.

  “Uh, guys?”

  They looked up to see Ryan return…along with three other men, all carrying spears aimed at him. They both jumped to their feet. One of the men said something in an unfamiliar language. Though she didn’t understand the words, the menace came through loud and clear when he jabbed his spear in their direction.

  Wyatt held up his hands in a non-threatening pose. “We’re just backpackers,” he told them in Spanish, but they didn’t seem to understand him. He grabbed a pack and held it up. Still no recognition from the three men. He made walking motions with his fingers and pointed to the rainforest.

  One of them made a move and Wyatt’s hand went to his waistband where he kept his gun. She was afraid he’d have to shoot them to keep Ryan safe. Not only did she not want to kill the men who were only protecting their small part of the world, but shots might alert their pursuers and bring them running. But instead of intending harm, the man gestured to the other two and they blended back into the forest, gone as silently as they arrived.

  Air rushed from Ryan’s lungs as he dropped to the rock. “I’ve gotta say, I’ve been threatened with many weapons in my life, but that’s the first time with spears.”

  Amelia sank down beside him. That’d been close. She was thankful it hadn’t resorted to violence. Ryan finished the water they’d left for him and stuffed the empty bottle in his backpack. Two more bottles down.

  Hours later and still no sign of life, they took another water and bathroom break. Amelia staggered off from the men, her legs shaking like saplings in the wind. She felt like she’d run the Boston and New York marathons back to back.

  She found a secluded spot to do her business. She wondered if Maggie realized she was missing. She promised to keep in touch, but Maggie had to know it’d be difficult when the conditions were so unpredictable in Santigo. In fact, Amelia had told her not to worry if she didn’t hear from her in a few days. She hadn’t been sure of wh
at she would be doing or if there would be cell phone reception and she didn’t want to alarm Maggie if she couldn’t call.

  They had to come across something soon…the country wasn’t that big. It felt as if they’d traversed the distance—twice. She was so caught up in her musings, she didn’t realize there was nothing in front of her when she took a step. Her arms flayed uselessly and panic seized her as she tumbled into an abyss.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Amelia landed on her back with a jarring thud, air whooshing from her lungs. She struggled to catch her breath while trying not to panic. It took a minute to regroup and figure out what had happened. When she could inhale again, she pushed upright. She was in some kind of hole. Fumbling in her pocket, she pulled out a flashlight that thankfully hadn’t been crushed in the fall. Her hand flew to her mouth when the beam lit upon bones. She skittered backwards until her back met the wall and worked to calm her breathing. Usually bones didn’t bother her. She’d set more broken ones than she could count. But she’d never been up close and personal with graveyard skeletons and that’s where she feared she’d landed. Right in the middle of a burial ground.

  When she was sure she wouldn’t hyperventilate, she trained the light on the bones again. They belonged to several different carcasses, but she was relieved to realize the remains were animal, not human. Obviously, she wasn’t the only creature who’d taken a wrong step.

  Now that she knew she hadn’t ended up in some primitive killing field, she tentatively rose to her feet, hoping there weren’t any injuries she wasn’t aware of, like a sprained ankle. After testing both legs, she was happy to note they worked, though they were sore and tired.

  Craning her head back, she judged the distance to the top. It had to be at least eight feet, maybe ten. The opening was camouflaged by the plants and vines that carpeted the jungle floor. She wanted to yell for Wyatt, but she couldn’t risk tipping off any enemies who might be near.

  Running the light around the walls, she searched for any kind of ladder or steps or even indentions she could use to climb out, but there were none. The hollow eye sockets in the skulls surrounding her started to creep her out and her heart started pounding. Her fresh case of claustrophobia threatened. The hole was approximately eight feet wide and there were no tunnels or offshoots. The only way out was from above.

  If Wyatt didn’t come for her, she’d be trapped forever, another set of bones to add to the collection.

  #

  Wyatt checked the forest in the direction Amelia disappeared. She’d been gone for at least ten minutes, possibly longer. She should’ve returned by now. He jumped to his feet, worry pounding in his gut. What if she ran into a group of spear-wielding natives like Ryan? Would they let her go because she was a woman or take her because of it? Or worse—what if she encountered the kidnappers?

  “I’m going after her,” he told Ryan.

  “Wait up. I’ll come with.”

  After dumping the backpacks into a pile, they set off to find her. They hadn’t gone far when he took a step but felt nothing but air beneath his foot. He teetered forward but Ryan grabbed his arm and yanked him back in the nick of time. They both landed in a heap on the ground. Pushing to his feet, he scrambled to a large hole disguised by the overgrowth. Falling to his knees, he flashed his light over the edge and lit upon blond hair. “Amelia?”

  Her head jerked up and relief washed over her beautiful face. “Thank goodness. I didn’t want to call out for you and risk someone else hearing.”

  “Are you hurt?”

  “No. Just trapped.”

  He exhaled with relief as he assessed the situation. She was in a hole about eight feet by eight feet, a drop of ten feet. Scattered around her were the skeletons of animals who’d fallen into the pit but had no way out. Creepy.

  “I’ve got an idea,” Ryan said. “Be right back.”

  While he disappeared, Wyatt flattened to his stomach to lean over the opening. “Are you sure you’re okay, babe?”

  “Yeah. Embarrassed, but fine.”

  “You have nothing to be embarrassed about.”

  She spread her arms. “Uh, hello? How about falling into a necropolis!”

  A bit dramatic, but he allowed her that since she’d had a scare. Gave him one, too. “I almost did the same thing.”

  Her eyes widened. “You did?”

  “Yeah. If Ryan hadn’t grabbed me, I’d have joined you down there.”

  “Who would’ve thought there would be booby traps in the forest?”

  It was almost too perfect of a circle to be random. “Maybe one of the tribes use them to trap animals to eat.”

  “Well, they missed a few,” she muttered, and he smiled.

  Ryan returned with several long vines and started to braid them. It’d make them stronger so Amelia could tie it around her waist and they could pull her to safety. Bloody genius.

  Ryan’s fingers flew through the motions, weaving with brisk efficiency and skill that impressed Wyatt.

  “Who are you, Vidal Sassoon or something?”

  The brow over Ryan’s one good eye crooked. “Vidal Sassoon?”

  Wyatt shrugged a shoulder. “He’s the only hairdresser I know.”

  Ryan chuckled. “Both of my parents worked so a neighbor watched me after school. She had two young girls and they always wanted their hair braided. It’s been a while, but just like riding a bike, it comes back to you.”

  Once Ryan finished, he tossed an end into the hole and then secured the other around a tree. Amelia knotted it around her waist and then gave them a thumbs up. He and Ryan started slowly tugging the vines, hand over hand, until her head popped over the rim. Wyatt lunged for her and let out a shuddering breath when she was in his arms.

  “Wyatt?”

  “Hum?”

  “Can’t breathe.”

  He loosened his hold. “Sorry.”

  She smiled and placed a hand against his face. He leaned in to kiss her, savoring the taste of the woman he loved. It wasn’t until Ryan’s not-so-subtle clearing of his throat that Wyatt ended the kiss.

  He jumped to his feet and tugged Amelia up. He couldn’t resist one last kiss before taking her hand as they made their way back to where they’d left the backpacks. It was getting late which meant it’d be getting dark soon. They needed to find a place to bunk for the night. He hoped to find another cave, but they hadn’t come across any all day. The safest place would be inside the pit they dragged Amelia out of, but if something happened to Ryan’s rope, they’d be trapped.

  A quarter of a mile back, they’d passed a large boulder. They could build a shelter against it so nothing could slip up on them. He hated to backtrack, but they were out of options.

  They gathered branches along the way and when they reached the boulder, they constructed a rugged refuge for the night. He and Ryan used rocks to pound sticks into the ground for support and vines to bind the walls together while Amelia layered large palm fronds on the top. They’d just settled the backpacks inside and sat down when the skies opened and rain poured down. Lightning lit up the area and thunder boomed. Water sluiced off the roof and some of the drops found their way inside, but for the most part, they were protected. They were lucky it was the first storm they’d encountered during their time in the rainforest.

  Lulled by the sounds of the thunderstorm, Amelia fell asleep against his arm. He glanced over to see Ryan had nodded off, too. The exertion had to be hard on him when his body was still recovering, but he hadn’t complained once. A true warrior.

  Wyatt gently eased his arm from under Amelia’s head and settled her against his chest. She snuggled deeper against him without waking. He kept his Sig in the other hand. He planned on staying awake all night to make sure nothing crept up on them. You never knew what lurked in the jungle, animal or man. The rain might detour some of the critters, but not all. He settled in for a long night, watching nature’s light show to pass the time.

  #

  The rains finally let up af
ter several hours of constant downpour. The shelter held but the ground was soggy, the wetness seeping through Wyatt’s clothes. Half an hour into the storm, he’d picked Amelia up and settled her on his lap to keep her dry. She slept throughout the streaking lightning and rolling thunder. Ryan, too. Wyatt’s eyes felt gritty and dry despite the moisture in the air. The dampness had seeped into his bones. He wasn’t sure he’d ever feel warm again. He’d give just about anything for his Egyptian cotton sheets and memory foam pillows right now.

  Amelia stirred, coming slowly awake. She gifted him with one of her dazzling smiles and he couldn’t stop himself from capturing her lips again. She hummed against him and it took every bit of restraint he possessed to keep from rolling her over and sliding into her. If Ryan wasn’t a foot away, he’d have given into the temptation.

  Something crashed into the roof of the shelter and broke through the palm fronds. Wyatt did roll over Amelia to protect her as a loud squeal sounded and then a monkey plopped beside him, squawking its displeasure.

  “Take your stinking paws off me, you damn dirty ape,” Ryan said in his best imitation of Charlton Heston’s George Taylor from Planet of the Apes. He shooed the screeching primate from the shelter. The monkey waddled off, leaving a gaping hole in his wake.

  “A skylight,” Amelia mused as he rolled off her. He mourned the loss of her body pressed against his. Daylight began to filter through the trees, highlighting rain drops until they shimmered like thousands of tiny diamonds. Whatever path they chose today would be muddy and treacherous after the downpour. It would probably slow them down, too. Wyatt was so ready to be home. But as much as he wished he was safely there right now, there was no place he’d rather be than with Amelia. He was glad he listened to his instincts and followed her to Santigo. He didn’t even want to think about what might’ve happened to her if he hadn’t borrowed a friend’s Gulfstream and headed to South America. He had no doubt she could take care of herself, but it was his job to protect her…at least in his eyes. She’d probably cuff him upside the head if she could read his thoughts.