Brian squeezed the water out of his “underwear,” the back piece of an old shirt that had replaced his fallen-apart boxers two years back. He tied the patch of fabric in place before moving on to the rest of his laundry—didn’t want the woman to think he was completely uncivilized.
He didn’t dare wash his clothes too hard. The pants and shirt were threadbare enough already. The humid air of the jungle was hard on fabric. He sloshed the two pitiful pieces in the clear water and watched for fish, but gave that up after a few minutes. The creek was too shallow and rapid.
Audrey was splashing behind him.
“Try to keep your clothes and body clean. The smallest injury can get infected in the jungle, even bug bites.” He was speaking from experience.
He put his wet pants and shirt back on and sat on a flat rock that got some dappled sunlight from above. There were a few spots over the middle of the creek where the treetops didn’t touch.
Then he turned his head and forgot the trees and the sunshine.
Audrey squatted by the edge of the water with her back to him, her wet blond hair streaming past her shoulder blades. She looked like one of the detailed fantasies he had used to pass time with while locked up in the cage. Pearls of water ran down her slim back—creamy skin, delicate curve of the spine—to her round bottom. A groan rumbled up his throat. She might not have looked real, but his body’s response certainly was.
He wanted her then and there, on the wet moss—rough and furious. He wanted to empty himself into her. Hot arousal washed through him as he watched her slight movements. He felt his eyes narrow and his nostrils flare, the animal-like need taking him over for a moment, urgent and uncivilized. Then he remembered her face as she had stood by the fire, surrounded by the guerillas.
He got up and strode out of the creek, ashamed that his reaction to her hadn’t been any better than theirs. Had they kept him in a cage long enough that he had turned into something that belonged there?
“What are you doing in Malaysia?” He scanned the surrounding trees for food to keep himself busy, and spotted a banana tree. He climbed it while waiting for her response, ignoring the hard-on that made shimmying up the tree more than uncomfortable.
She didn’t respond. Interesting.
There were plenty of Western tourists in Malaysia, as well as businesspeople. Then there were the crooks who came to the country to make money in the illegal gun trade or drug trafficking. She sure didn’t look like she belonged to that group. Of course, appearances could be misleading.
Still, no matter who she was, she didn’t deserve what Omar’s men would have done to her.
He reached the top but didn’t cut off the whole bunch of bananas. Instead, he broke off enough from here and there for them to eat and tucked them in to his shirt. He didn’t want to be slowed down by carrying a load, and he didn’t want to leave any telltale signs behind. He cut off a pair of leaves, too, and let them fall to the ground.
Audrey waited for him under the tree with her clothes safely back on, clean but soaking wet, hiding nothing. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. Damn, it was hot for this early in the morning.
“I’m on an adoption trip with my sister,” she said, folding her arms in front of her.
From the way her moss-green eyes glistened as she spoke, he figured the sister wasn’t back at the Kuala Lumpur Grand Hotel, soaking in a hot tub. Since she wasn’t here with Audrey, it was safe to assume she’d been killed when the guerillas had attacked them.
Unsure what to say, he offered her a banana and slung Ahmad’s AK-47 over his shoulder. It had to be hard to lose a sibling. He could only imagine the special closeness between two people who shared the same blood. He’d never had that with anyone.
“I was adopted,” he said.
She looked up from peeling, her eyes luminous in the sunshine.
Damn. Where the hell had that come from? It wasn’t something he shared. He looked down, embarrassed at having said something so personal.
His gaze settled on her footwear. And seeing a problem he could fix, the next second he was back in professional soldier mode again. “Give me your boots.”
She only hesitated a second before she sat to unlace them. When she handed him the first, he shoved his knife inside and made a couple of small holes in the leather, close to the sole, then repeated the procedure with the other one.
“What’s that for?”
“So that moisture can get out. Whether we make it or not will depend on how fast and how far we can walk. Always take care of your feet.”
She nodded and put the boots back on.
He picked up a banana leaf, cut and twisted it until it resembled a very primitive wide-brimmed hat, then put it on her head. “It’ll keep the creepy crawlers from falling into your shirt neck from above,” he said, and made one for himself.
“I used to have a hat. It fell off in the boat. Thank you.”
So she had come up the river. He’d pretty much figured that. Boat travel was the easiest way to get around in these parts. Which was exactly why he couldn’t steal a canoe and paddle out. The river would be the first place where Omar’s men would look for them, and there would be no place to hide on the water. As hard as it was going to be, they had no choice but to walk out. And they better get to it. “Come on. We’ll eat as we go.”
She fell in step behind him as he moved forward, listening for anything unusual in the cacophony of birdcalls. He could make out the sound of a couple of monkeys arguing in the distance, but nothing suspicious caught his attention.
“Are we going to a village?”
“To the river.” Most villages in the vicinity were controlled by the guerillas. “It’s called the Baram.”
The night before, he had run off to the opposite direction, knowing he couldn’t cross it in the dark with the woman in tow. “We have to circle back to it, get over to the other side and follow it to Miri.”
“Can’t we cross later? Shouldn’t we be moving away from the guerillas?”
She was thinking and not following him blindly. Good. It showed presence of mind. They were going to need that. “We’ll come out above the camp. They’ll be watching the river below. That’s the way out. The sooner we cross, the better. The farther down we get, the wider the Baram becomes.”
She accepted that without argument. He liked that, too. She was independent enough to think for herself if needed, but smart enough to accept his authority. The strength of the team they forged would play a big part in their survival. So far, she was okay.
A fine mist started to drizzle from above, nothing that would slow them down, just enough to get them wet. There were more caves ahead, a good ten miles from here. If they reached them by noon, they could rest there, maybe light a fire to dry their clothes.
She finished eating and held out the peel. “What do I do with this?”
She knew now not to leave a trail. He grunted in approval as he took the peel from her, then handed her another banana. Maybe they stood a slim chance of making it out of here after all. He felt a twinge of guilt at having had considered leaving her behind with Omar. She hadn’t turned out as bad as he had expected. But she would have to get better still.
When the last piece of fruit was gone, he stopped and buried their leavings, then held out the AK-47. “You know how to use this?”
She shook her head.
“Not much to it. Just aim and squeeze the trigger.” He waited until she took the gun, tested its weight, held it to her shoulder. She looked unsure of herself, but at least she was giving it a try. He nodded to her with encouragement when she handed the rifle back, then turned and continued walking. “In case something happens to me,” he said, “keep east by the sun.”
Better to be prepared for every eventuality.
He had learned that lesson well as a marine, then again when he’d entered special training after being recruited into the SDDU, Special Designation Defense Unit, America’s secret weapon against terrorism. SDDU soldiers were expected to be the best of the best, and damn, it had stroked his ego to have been chosen. They had better weapons and more freedom to use them than anyone, and didn’t have to report to Congress or any military chain of command, but went straight to the Homeland Security Secretary.
Hell, Congress and all those generals didn’t even know the SDDU existed. The unit had been created to deal with problems that couldn’t be addressed in the open. To effectively fight terrorists who broke every rule, the U.S. needed a team that didn’t have any rules tying their hands, either. And that was the SDDU.
It really burned him that he had gotten taken out on his first mission. And the fact that he would never now pass the physical to get back in got under his skin even more.
“Keep your eyes and ears open. If we come across trouble, drop and roll to cover.”
Brian pushed forward, ignoring the pain in his bad leg. The old injury made a big difference. Not just the limp, but how weak the muscles were. It had been a while since he’d walked any farther than the bushes to relieve himself.
He had exercised over the years with the guerillas, done more push-ups and sit-ups than any ten men in a lifetime, but it was hard to exercise his legs in a cage that didn’t allow him to stand up. He hated the weakness, the knowledge that he was outnumbered and outgunned. And if that wasn’t bad enough, he had the woman depending on him now, raising the stakes of failure.
Damn. Things hadn’t exactly turned out as he had expected. She ended up being more capable than he had thought, and he less so. It ticked him off and so did the sudden doubts that assailed him. Had he done the right thing by dragging her into the jungle? He had thought he could protect her, but what if he couldn’t?
What the hell made him think she was better off with him? Maybe Omar would have reined in his men. Her letter would be on its way to her family by now. Sure as hell, he could offer her no guarantees.
“Thank you for bringing me with you,” she said from behind at the exact worst moment.
He turned back to her. Didn’t she realize they were in just as much danger now, if not more, than in the guerilla camp?
“You can thank me later. If we make it out of the jungle alive.”
HAMID WENT THROUGH the plans, thinking of the men he had chosen, reevaluating them one by one. He trusted them as much as he trusted anyone. The first phase of his plan looked good to go, but phase two bothered him.
His men had taken too many hostages. Americans, too, which could spell trouble. Westerners didn’t understand this part of the world, weren’t willing to play by its rules. He had made a fortune and financed a veritable army by picking up a Japanese or Russian businessman now and then, demanding silence and ransom from their families.
This time, it might be different. Just the scale of the kidnapping guaranteed that the government and media would get wind of it. He hoped to hell they didn’t choose to interfere. A smooth transaction was in everyone’s best interest.
He shuffled the papers and cursed Muhammad, the captain responsible for this mess. Muhammad was greedy, both for money and power. He bore watching.
The steel door opened and one of his men came in. “A messenger came from Omar.”
From Omar. It had happened then. He nodded his approval to let the messenger in, only slightly surprised, with a faint regret for the death of Jamil, who had been a friend in the old days. So the younger brother took the camp. It wasn’t altogether unexpected.
Omar was another man he wouldn’t want to turn his back to. In fact, Muhammad reminded him of Omar a lot.
The messenger looked unsure of himself as he conveyed his leader’s greetings.
Hamid waved away the formalities. “How are things with my friend, Omar?”
“Jamil had an accident.”
He expressed his regrets, having no illusions about what had happened. Most likely, the accident had been a bullet in the back. Omar had been coveting his brother’s position for years.
Hamid leaned back in his chair, considering how this would effect his plans. He had been trying to get Jamil to join the operation, but Jamil had dragged his heels, disliking making war on civilians. Omar had no compunctions, which would make things easier. But could a man who would kill his own blood be trusted?
He watched the messenger closely. “All is well in camp?”
The man looked down. “We had a hostage that escaped.”
Hamid lifted an eyebrow. Omar wasted no time going after money, did he? “The jungle will take care of him.” He shrugged.
“It was a woman. That soldier prisoner broke out and took her with him.”
He sat up straight, interested now, knowing well of Jamil’s foreign soldier, the man he had insisted on keeping against advice. It was a running joke in the camps, how Jamil got stuck with him, wanting to make a point to his younger brother on who made the decisions.
That man could make it out of the jungle. That man could bring the army back with him. “When?”
“Yesterday.”
“Omar has everyone out looking?”
The messenger nodded, looking more nervous now than when he had arrived.
“Did anything else happen?”
“He—the prisoner—got some notes Omar sent you about Jamil….”
“And?”
“He pledged his help with the attacks.”
He stood up so fast he knocked the chair over. Swore. Damn the incompetent son of a bitch. He would not have his operation compromised now, not when everything was ready to go.
“Anything that would give us away?”
“That’s all he told me,” the man rushed to say.
He called out, and two fighters rushed in.
“Jamil’s prisoner escaped yesterday. Send as many men as you can. Have Muhammad take them.” This once, his captain was welcome to go overboard.
COME ON. COME BACK.
Audrey sat by the cave’s entrance, the AK-47 laid across her legs as she stared into the jungle. She had no idea what time it was. Her watch, along with her jewelry, was the first thing the guerillas had taken after they had captured her.
Brian hadn’t been gone more than a half hour, an hour at tops, but it felt like ten. She had plenty of time to worry about a whole list of worst-case scenarios. Like what would she do if a tiger decided to pay her a visit, or the guerillas found her, or something happened to Brian and he didn’t come back.
She rubbed her eyes. God, she was driving herself nuts. Brian would be back soon. Everything was going to be fine.
He had gone off to see if he could scare up some meat. They needed protein for strength, couldn’t survive on fruit, he’d said. He’d promised to build a fire when he came back. She decided to focus on that. Her clothes were no longer soaking wet, but still damp enough to be uncomfortable.
He would be back for her. She had to believe that. She listened to the birdcalls above, watched for the burst of color that flashed between the branches now and then.
Was Nicky out there somewhere looking up at the trees, same as her? Dear God, let her be unharmed.
Something rustled in the undergrowth to the left. Her muscles tensed, her heart in her throat in an instant. She tried to see beyond the profusion of green fronds, but couldn’t make out anything. She gripped the gun and drew farther back into the cave.
More noise, then a branch snapping. She held her breath. Brian? She didn’t dare call out. Then she saw the fronds move. Something was definitely there, coming toward her.
A young fighter stepped into the clearing, scanning the area, rifle at the ready.
Her blood raced so fast it made her dizzy. She held her breath, hoping he couldn’t see her in the darkness of the cave.
But he did, and smiled when their eyes met.
He called back, a single word, but no response came from behind him, which gave her hope. Maybe he had wandered out of hearing distance from the others.
She scampered back toward the deeper reaches of the cave, gripping her own gun in her sweaty palms, although she didn’t dare shoot. She had never shot anything. Her chances of hitting him were one in a million.
If she started shooting he would shoot back, with considerably more skill than she had. And a gunshot, too, could alert the rest of his group to their whereabouts. She would only use the rifle if she had no other choice, and only if she was sure she would hit him.
As young as he was, she was no match for him. Escape and evade, the term she’d heard Brian use popped into her head. Panic propelled her forward as she turned to run, seeing less and less the farther in she got. Her boots slammed against stone, the sound echoing in the cave, mixing with the slap of her pursuer’s steps.
Brian had said there were lime caves in these mountains that went on for miles underground. If this one had a fraction of that space— If she could evade this man until Brian came back— She rushed into a dark corridor, gasped the musty air, fear sending her lungs into overdrive.
Blindly she ran forward, her hands stretched in front of her in the darkness, hoping the path was straight. It wasn’t. She smacked into the stone wall and dropped the gun, bent to search for it but felt nothing other than small rocks, cold and sharp under her fingertips. It had to be here. She swept the ground, frantic.
The man was close enough for her to hear his breathing, smell his sweat. Forget the gun. Her hand on the wall, she moved ahead, hoping for a fork in the road, or a crevice she could flatten herself into while he went by.
She hadn’t walked a few steps when she was brought hard to the ground. The pain in the side of her skull was blinding. Her head spun for a moment as she struggled against the weight that pinned her down. She clawed at him, felt his fingers close around one wrist first, then the other as he swore in the darkness.
“No. Please.” She tried to catch her breath.
He pulled her to her feet and dragged her toward the light. She kicked and missed. He shook her and dragged her on, threw her to the ground once they were back in the larger cavern that received enough sunlight to see.
He asked something she couldn’t understand. She shook her head as she sat up, then noticed the knife in his belt and lunged for it.
He outmaneuvered her with ease, but ended up falling on her, pressing her back into the sharp rocks.
Shouldn’t have done that. Shouldn’t have gone for his weapon. She had really pissed him off. The sight of his anger-reddened face paralyzed her limbs. Then his features changed as he brought up a hand to cup her breast.
“Stop.” She struggled against him with new desperation.
He reached between them and ripped her pants. A scream pushed its way up her throat but she swallowed it back. His people were probably closer than Brian. She didn’t want them to find her. There was a slim chance she might be able to fight off this one, but if the rest came, she was finished.
She felt around with shaking hands for a suitable rock on the ground. Nothing but dirt and gravel. Figured. At least a half-dozen rocks dug against her ribs. She tried to twist aside, but the man on top of her wouldn’t allow her the movement.
Expect the worse. Expect that you’re going to get hurt. The words of some self-defense expert from a TV show a couple of years ago floated back to her. She had to keep a clear head, resist the panic, look for an opportunity.
The man on top of her was stronger than she, and it wasn’t even so much his extra bulk of muscles, but that he knew how to fight. She could do nothing to stop him.
Accepting the inevitable brought a strange sense of control. When he violated her body, there would be a moment of advantage. She would wait for that moment and try again for his knife. She would not allow him to take her back to camp. That was the most important thing. No matter what else he did, he must not keep her from her mission. Not when her sister’s life depended on her.
She steeled herself, but instead of the pain she expected, the man’s head snapped back and he fell from her. Brian slit the attacker’s throat with one smooth move from ear to ear and shoved the lifeless body to the side.
“Are you all right?” He turned to her.
She stared at the gushing blood and threw up the bananas.
When Brian stepped forward, she backed away in horror. He towered over her, his hands bloody. It was okay. He was okay. He was the guy who had saved her, she told herself, but her brain had trouble catching up.
He stood for a moment, looking at her, then went to squat next to the man and search the body. She looked away, gagging anew at the sight of the blood that was now pooling on the ground.
“We have to get moving,” he said a minute later.
She nodded and stood, held her pants together with one hand as she walked toward the opening of the cave.
“Where is the other gun?” Brian left the man and was coming toward her with the new rifle and the extra knife.
She flinched away. “Back in the corridor. I dropped it.” Her voice trembled. “It’s too dark to see in there.”
He looked her over, then went back to the fallen man, took his belt and held it out for her. She couldn’t bring herself to touch it. Brian nodded and gave her the rope that held up his own pants. When she didn’t move, he helped her tie her khakis in place, touching her as little as possible. She was shaking by the time he was done.
“There are a half-dozen guerillas a quarter mile downhill. Stay behind me and stay quiet,” he said as he stepped out of the cave.