Читать книгу The Reunion Mission - Beth Cornelison - Страница 10

Present day—Colombia

Nicole woke with a start when a large hand clamped over her mouth and a low male voice growled in her ear, “Don’t make any noise.”

He gaze flew to the dark figure hovering over her, and panic flooded her brain. In the night shadows, she could tell little about her attacker, except that he was large, and strong, and dark featured. When she squirmed, trying to find Tia, terrified this man could have harmed the little girl, the man’s hold on her tightened.

“It’s all right, Nicole. I won’t hurt you,” he whispered, his mouth so close to her that his lips brushed the shell of her ear and his warm breath fanned her neck. In the fog of her fear, it took her a moment to realize he’d used her name. And that he spoke English.

She snapped a startled gaze to his, straining to make out his face while her heart drummed an anxious beat against her ribs. No use. In the blackness of the jungle night, she couldn’t see anything distinguishing about his face.

“I’m an American operative. I’m here to take you home. Do you understand?”

Home. The word held such sweet promise, she couldn’t help the whimper of relief that squeaked from her throat.

Her attacker—no, her rescuer—loosened his grip on her mouth. “Promise to be quiet?”

She nodded, and tears of joy puddled in her eyes. She was going home. Finally. And Tia could get the medical attention she needed. Nicole’s heart soared, even though the prospect of escaping the camp filled her with a chilling fear.

As he removed his hand from her mouth, the man dragged his fingers along her chin, brushing her hair back from her face and wiping a tear from her cheek with his thumb. The intimate gesture startled her, and the first uneasy whispers that something was off tickled her nape. He hovered, scant inches above her, and she searched his face, wishing desperately she could see him better in the darkness. Then, with a troubled-sounding sigh, he dipped his head.

And kissed her.

Nicole’s breath caught, and her pulse scampered on a fresh wave of panic. Had he lied about his intentions? When her initial, paralyzing shock passed, she gained the frame of mind to resist. But hesitated.

His lips were gentle. The tender caress of his mouth surprised her, intrigued her. Filled her with a sweet warmth. Her body responded to his kiss as if she’d known him her whole life … and yet the edgy prickle at her neck bit harder.

A groan rumbled from his chest, and he broke the kiss to sit back on his heels, muttering a curse under his breath. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Damn right, you shouldn’t have! Who are you?” she whispered fiercely.

He tensed and angled a hooded glance toward her. “Your ticket outta here. Get up.” His tone was gruff now, in contradiction to his soft kiss, and she shivered, despite the clammy heat of the jungle. “I brought shoes and socks for you. Size 6, right?”

“I—yes. How did you know?”

“It’s my job to know.” He slid a pack off his back and pulled out a pair of boots. “Can you walk? We have a difficult hike ahead of us.”

“I can, but Tia’s weak.” She glanced to the sleeping girl, whose age she estimated at eight years and who’d shared her cage for the past several months. She’d come to love Tia like a daughter, bonding with the terrified child as she protected her from the cruelty of their guards. “She’s had a fever and hasn’t eaten in days.”

Her rescuer followed her glance to Tia and shook his head. “Forget it. She’s not coming with us.” He shoved the boots at her. “Put these on. Hurry.”

Nicole’s chest tightened. “What? She has to come. She’ll die here if I leave her!” She shifted her gaze down the row of night-darkened cages. “And what about the others? There are twelve of us being held here!”

He clamped a hand over her mouth and growled in her ear. “Keep your voice down.” He grabbed the socks up and shoved one onto her foot. “Our objective is to get you out. Only you. We can’t take anyone else.”

She snatched her foot away. “Why? Because they’re not American?” Disdain filled her voice, but she didn’t care. “Their lives still matter. We can’t leave—”

“No. Only you. We only have provisions for you.” His tone brooked no resistance, and he tossed a boot into her lap. “Hurry up.”

“Then … take Tia instead of me. Please. She’s just a child. This is no place for an eight-year-old girl.”

He glanced at Tia again and jammed fingers through his short black hair. Hope fluttered in Nicole’s chest. Clearly the idea of leaving a little girl behind bothered him.

He released a ragged sigh and cupped a hand at the nape of Nicole’s neck. “Don’t do this. I have been planning this rescue for months. I’m here to take you home. You, Nicole.” He kept his voice low, but his tone vibrated with fury and frustration.

An odd sense of familiarity sketched down her spine. Something about his voice …

“I will not do anything that could jeopardize my objective. Got it?”

Nicole’s temper spiked. “Did I ask you to save me?”

She felt him tense, his fingers digging into her scalp. “Get your ass moving, or I’ll carry you out of here.”

A frisson of fear slithered through her. Indecision. Anguish. “I won’t leave her. If you don’t take her, I’m not going, either.” To prove her point, Nicole shoved the boot into his chest and let it drop.

Even with the night shadows, she couldn’t miss the lethal scowl he narrowed on her.

“Lafitte!” another male voice whispered just outside her plywood shelter. “What the hell’s the hold up? Haul ass!”

Her rescuer bit out another curse, in French this time, and pivoted to where Tia slept. Bending over her, he scooped the girl into his arms.

Relief and gratitude swept through Nicole and left her trembling.

When Tia woke and whimpered in fright, the man clapped a hand over her mouth … which only frightened Tia more.

Quickly Nicole scrambled over and stroked Tia’s arm, squeezed her hand. “It’s okay, mija. Es un amigo.” She tugged the man’s hand away from Tia’s mouth, then tapped her own finger to Tia’s lips. “Shh.”

Nicole didn’t miss the irony of hushing a girl who hadn’t spoken a word since arriving at the camp, traumatized and alone. Tia raised wide brown eyes so full of blind trust that Nicole’s heart twisted. She prayed trusting these men, attempting an escape with them, didn’t prove a deadly mistake.

When Tia quieted, Nicole jammed the boots on her feet and crawled out of her plywood lean-to in time to see her rescuer pass Tia off to the second man.

“What the hell?” the second man whispered harshly.

“Change of plans,” he grumbled under his breath, then stalked back to Nicole. “Ready?” He offered her a hand up, which she took. When he’d pulled her to her feet, he drew her close, and she grabbed one of his muscular arms while she found her balance. “We have to move fast. If you can’t run, I’ll carry you.”

Judging by the size of the arm she held and the width of his chest, she had no doubt he could carry her for miles. The notion started an odd tremble low in her belly. She shook her head. “No. I can run.”

“Good. Keep your head down, and do exactly as I say, when I say. Got it?” His tone and face were hard and unyielding.

She bristled a bit at his high-handedness but swallowed the sharp retort that came to mind. Under the circumstances, she’d forgive his bossiness. “Got it.”

He seized her hand and hauled her with him as he moved to the hole cut in the cage that had imprisoned her. The second man had already carried Tia out and was headed toward the perimeter fence. She scurried through the gap and glanced warily around the dark camp, her heart thundering.

Two shadowy dark figures lay unmoving in the dirt by the weapons cache, and a sick understanding crawled through her. Her rescuers had killed those men and who knew how many others in order to reach her. Bile rose in her throat, and she fought the urge to vomit.

As he rose to his feet, her rescuer shoved a cumbersome-looking pair of goggles on his head, then pulled a large handgun from the waist of his fatigues, reinforcing her recognition of his deadly skill. Her breath hung in her lungs. Apprehension shuddered through her.

Before she could reconcile this lethal soldier with the man who’d kissed her so sweetly and dried her tear moments earlier, he grabbed her arm and ran. She stumbled, trying to keep up with the pace he set, and gritting her teeth, she forced her exercise-deprived legs to move faster. She refused to slow him down, be a hindrance to their escape.

When they reached the hole cut in the perimeter fence, she had precious seconds to rest while the first man shimmied through the hole on his belly. As they coaxed Tia through the gap, Nicole gasped for breath, already winded. The pitch blackness of the jungle loomed beyond the fence that served not only to keep prisoners in, but also to keep wild animals out. Their escape route lay through that dense, wild terrain.

“Nicole.” Her rescuer waved her toward the hole in the fence. “Come on, cher.”

The endearment reverberated in her head as she dropped to her knees in preparation to crawl through the hole. She recognized the colloquial Cajun French term, pronounced sha, which she heard often in her home state. “You’re from Louisiana.”

He stilled for an instant, and she felt more than saw his gaze boring into hers. “Yes.” Before she could respond, he put a hand on her head and shoved her down. “Go!”

She did, with Cajun Man at her heels. Already the second man had disappeared into the thick foliage with Tia. Once through the fence, her rescuer dug in his pack and gave her a pair of goggles like the ones he and his partner wore. “Put these on.”

She obeyed, then marveled at the green images that leaped out of the blackness of the night. Night vision goggles. Of course. She studied him with her newly enhanced vision, but he, too, wore a pair of goggles that obscured her view of his face. The goggles only confirmed for her that he was dark-haired and broad-shouldered and had a heavy layer of stubble covering his cheeks and chin. She’d had little chance to familiarize herself with the goggles before he grabbed her hand and pulled her into the jungle.

Behind them, a voice shouted in the camp. A warning. An alert. Someone had discovered the dead guards or her empty cage.

Cajun Man’s hand tightened around hers. “Damn! Go, go, go!”

Through the overgrown jungle, she heard the rebel encampment waking, engines starting, angry shouts. He tugged her arm, urging her to go faster, and adrenaline fueled her feet.

Their escape path led them up the steep side of a mountain, and soon her muscles trembled from exertion. Nicole used her free hand to grab limbs and roots, anything she could use to help pull herself up the incline as he hauled her forward by the hand. She couldn’t quit, had to find the strength to press on. Letting the rebel soldiers catch her now would mean certain death.

Wide-leafed branches slapped at her legs, her face. Around her, the eyes of nocturnal animals glowed in her goggles, and she fought the fear that threatened to suffocate her. She had to keep moving, keep running. Keep putting one foot in front of the other.

Finally, they reached the top of the incline, and the terrain leveled out. Cajun Man never slowed their pace. The foliage thinned out in places making their progress easier. Many minutes later, when Nicole thought she might drop from exhaustion, he slowed at last and led her behind a wide tree trunk where his partner had stopped with Tia.

She gulped oxygen and collapsed on the ground beside the little girl. Tia crawled close and buried her head in Nicole’s chest.

“Where are we?” Cajun Man asked his friend, who’d pulled out a small gadget she couldn’t identify in the dark, even with her night vision goggles.

“Chopper’s still a couple miles north,” his partner answered.

Her heart beat so hard she could barely hear their discussion over the pounding pulse in her ears.

Turning, Cajun Man crouched in front of her and squeezed her shoulder. “How are you holding up?”

She nodded, unable to find the breath to speak.

“And the kid?” He jerked his head toward Tia.

“Scared,” Nicole panted. “But … all right.”

The night vision goggles helped her make out general forms in an unnatural green glow, but the details of Cajun’s and his partner’s appearances were still a mystery. She shoved aside her frustration with not knowing what her rescuers looked like. What did it matter as long as they got her and Tia out of that jungle alive? It didn’t. Yet she couldn’t quash the eerie prickle of familiarity his voice evoked.

He handed her a flask from his pack. “Drink.”

She waved his offering away. “I’m okay.”

“Drink,” he repeated more forcefully, shoving the canteen into her hand. “I can’t have you passing out on me later when I need you to run.”

Capitulating, she uncapped the flask and tipped it up to her lips. She almost groaned in pleasure as a sweet fruity drink bathed her tongue. An energy drink. How long had it been since she’d had anything but foul water to drink?

Brushing Tia’s hair back from her eyes, Nicole gave the canteen to the girl and helped her take a sip. When the little girl tasted the sweet drink, she clutched the canteen tighter and tipped it higher for a bigger gulp.

“Hey!” Cajun snatched the container back. “That’s gotta last until we’re outta here. Those of us who are hoofing it get priority.”

Tia shrank away from him, huddling closer to Nicole with a whimper.

Nicole bit back a retort. She had to remember that this man had risked his life to save her and had brought Tia along against his better judgment and despite the limited provisions he’d made. She raised her chin and worked at keeping her voice nonconfrontational. “Could you please try not to scare her? She’s just a kid, and she’s already been through a nightmare.”

He paused in the act of stashing the canteen in his pack, cast a side-glance to Nicole and heaved an impatient sigh as he shoved to his feet. “Enough rest. Let’s move.” He faced his partner and gave a nod. “Alec?”

His partner stowed his own canteen and stepped forward to help Nicole to her feet. Cajun Man lifted Tia into his arms and led the way with Nicole following and his partner—Alec, he’d called him—bringing up the rear. Though they were no longer running, they moved at a fast clip, and Nicole had trouble keeping up. The distance between the Cajun and Nicole widened by the minute, until, maybe an hour later, Alec finally cupped his hands around his mouth and made a shrill noise, something between a bird call and monkey. Cajun Man stopped, setting Tia on the ground, and Alec grabbed Nicole’s arm to hustle her forward.

“This is taking too long,” Cajun Man said as they approached, clearly agitated. “You go on,” he said to Alec. “Take the girl and tell Jake to get the chopper ready. I’ll stay with her, and we’ll be there … whenever.” His tone was full of frustration.

“Roger that.” Without further discussion, Alec lifted Tia into his arms and disappeared into the jungle foliage. A ripple of apprehension shimmied through Nicole. Not that she didn’t trust the Cajun, but having her rescue team halved felt like a dangerous move.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” She pressed a hand to the stitch in her side.

“Normally, no.” He paused, the silence taut with recriminations. “But under the circumstances—”

She grunted defensively. “I’m sorry I’m slowing you down. But all those months in a cage without exercise have left me out of shape.”

He faced her and cocked his head as he studied her. The jungle shadows and his night vision goggles made him look like a strange insect from a sci-fi flick. “I know that.”

His tone was softer now, almost apologetic, and she slumped at the base of a tree. Yanking off the cumbersome goggles, she rubbed her aching temples with the heels of her hands. His mercurial moods baffled her, set her on edge. “Look, I appreciate the risks you’ve taken to get me out of that stink hole. I’m doing everything I can to cooperate. But sometimes it seems like you’re …” She waved a hand, searching for the right word, then dropped it limply to her lap again. “I don’t know … mad at me or something. Have I done something to tick you off?”

Cajun Man was silent, and without her goggles, he was nothing but a looming figure in the blackness. For a moment, she thought he wouldn’t answer, but finally he murmured, “Not you. Your father.”

Her pulse kicked, and she sat taller. “What does any of this have to do with my father?”

“Everything,” he growled, then sighed heavily. “And nothing.”

She huffed her annoyance with his cryptic responses. “Which is it?”

“Let’s just say it’s bitterly ironic that I’m the one who’ll be bringing you home to your father.”

She blinked, befuddled by his word choice. “Ironic? Why?”

She sensed his hard gaze as a tingle skittered down her spine.

“Because your father tried to kill me.”