Jazmin said a quiet prayer when the small plane touched ground and rolled to the end of the airfield, where it came to a stop. After the engine was off, Manuel emerged from the cockpit, grinning like a fool, and thrust his earphones behind him on the seat. When he set his gaze on Ethan his grin turned malevolent.
“Just take him out of here,” Jazmin said before the pilot opened his mouth. “You want to get rid of him—so be it! Leave him alone.”
“No.” Manuel made it a long word, obviously enjoying Ethan fighting the rope around his body and biting the cloth in his mouth. “I guess I’ll have you taken out and spend another hour with your husband up in the sky, show him some moves he hasn’t seen yet.” He looked around, smiling at the slightly green faces of the guards. “I’ve been nice so far.”
“Just leave him alone!” Jazmin resisted Alano dragging her out of the seat. “Wait! I want my husband to go with me! Don’t take me away!”
“Move, woman!”
The pilot’s gaze rested on Ethan, and she feared once more for his wellbeing. It had been bad enough to watch him being thrown on the ground and tied up. She couldn’t stand the thought of leaving him with this lunatic. “Take him with me!”
“Sandro, bring the prisoner out of here!” Alano ordered, and, grumpily, the young man turned away from the door to fulfill the order. He, too, looked as if flying had been a catastrophe he had barely survived.
Jazmin made the greatest effort to delay being taken out of the plane alone. She craned her neck to see how Sandro would deal with Ethan or whether he allowed Manuel to put a hand on him. When she reached the door, she stopped again.
“Don’t leave him with the pilot,” she hissed in Alano’s ear. “He’ll kill him no matter your orders.”
“He won’t.” Alano’s brown eyes were full of confidence. “We’ve finally reached our destination.”
Jazmin frowned. Beyond the airfield lay an assembly of huts and larger buildings with acres of green land around. Smoke was rising from two of the chimneys. The smell of burned meat was in the humid air, and she heard chickens clucking in their cage. Some goats were feeding beyond the airfield in the shadow of two trees, and in the distance a dog was barking and fell silent upon a man’s harsh command. She squinted against the sun, making out many people in jeans and shirts going about their work. Many of them were wearing wide-brimmed hats against the intensive sun. Again, she was under the impression all of the inhabitants were happy to ignore prisoners among their midst. No one would lend a hand. No one wanted to interfere with their misery and thus risk being punished. She lifted her gaze. The mountains to the west seemed a mere mirage, huddled in clouds. They had flown north and far to the east to land amid the rainforest. From the plane, she had seen a city in the east and had counted the minutes until landing. Even though the way would lead through the forest and maybe across some small rivers, it was the only direction to escape to. A part of her stood beside her manhandled body and couldn’t believe what was happening. She wanted to cry to be sent home and yet had to remain strong. She quashed the fearful voice.
“What kind of destination?”
“I don’t know.” Alano shrugged, grinning. His relief could be grasped with both hands. “I do what I’m told. You’re still alive, your husband made it somehow and—”
Behind them Sandro had pushed Ethan the last step. With his feet tied up he had no chance to avoid falling onto the sand. Training helped him to roll over onto his shoulder, and he would’ve gotten up if Sandro hadn’t been quick to throw him down again. This time Ethan landed on his back, groaning in pain.
Immediately Jazmin tried to free herself from Alano’s grip and run to her husband. “Leave him alone, you bastard!” Alano held her at the last moment and pulled her back.
Sandro didn’t hear her. “I’m still limping because of you kicking my knee, you bastard!” He placed his right boot hard on Ethan’s stomach. “I’ll teach you obedience!”
“Well done,” Manuel commented from the plane’s exit. He jumped down the steps and put his baseball cap on his head, sniffing. “Push him around a little and have fun. Lucio will—” The words died in his throat.
Jazmin spun around to see a tall man in khaki shirt and pants approach, wearing a blue cloth elegantly wrapped around his neck. With the sleeked-back hair and the goatee he seemed to have stepped out of a movie. Irrationally, the man limped and grimaced with pain as he quickened his steps. His lips were drawn tightly together, and his eyes spoke of fury.
“Lucio!” Manuel called out. “My friend, I hadn’t expected you to be here already!”
“And that means you can take liberties?” Lucio spoke through clenched teeth, pointing at Ethan. “Are you nuts?”
The newcomer cowed all men around by his presence. It was quite surprising to watch Alano sweat suddenly, eyes wide with fright. Manuel forgot about cheering for Sandro and avoided eye contact with Lucio.
Sandro stepped back from the prisoner as if burned. “I didn’t mean to—”
Lucio’s voice rose to shouting against the constant wind. “Sandro! Put that man back on his feet and guide him inside! Alano! Stop staring at me and take her with you. Make sure to open their shackles! If I find them maltreated, you’ll pay for that! Why the hell was it necessary to push him on the ground? And you, Manuel, might just be a tad more careful when it comes to transporting packages for me! They look like crash survivors!”
Jazmin couldn’t help but stare at Lucio, who stopped, grimacing with pain, and was nevertheless the man calling the shots. Hissing curses, he took his weight off his right foot. Alano hastily took her out of the sun and into yet another hut, where they couldn’t hear Lucio’s browbeating.
Jazmin resisted Alano’s hard grip, turning to him. “Who is he?”
Alano pushed her across the wooden threshold, where he forced her to kneel, cut the strip around her wrists, and closed the door.
“Who is this man?” Jazmin demanded to know, getting up and staring at Alano’s back through the bars of the door. “Did he order our kidnapping?”
“Stand against the wall and wait for your husband!”
Alano met with Lucio in the sun, but they spoke too quietly for Jazmin to understand. She cursed. Ethan was back on his feet, his clothes and face covered with light brown sand. The rope between his ankles made his walk slow. He looked angry enough to resist Sandro’s pushing, but didn’t stand a chance. Nevertheless Lucio ordered Alano to lend a hand, if only to have them occupied while he turned to Manuel, who was groping for a cigarette. His expression had changed from the overbearing pilot without rules to a servant distrusting his employer. He lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply while Lucio’s fury rained down on him.
The door of the hut was opened once again.
“Stand back!” Sandro shouted at her, and Jazmin hurried to obey, seeing the untamed anger in his eyes. He forced Ethan to kneel and smacked the back of his head. “Don’t make a move!” He took out the gag. “I’d let you stay like this and not pamper you, bastard!”
“Shut up!” Alano untied the rope around Ethan’s ankles and cut the plastic bands. “Don’t try anything fancy!” The kidnappers hurried out and turned the key in the lock, cursing about Lucio’s unexpected arrival.
Jazmin was already on her knees to embrace her husband and never let go. “My God, I feared the worst!” She wept and couldn’t stop. “Please, tell me you’re all right.”
He held her tight, breathing heavily. “I’m okay. If I can put my hands on these assholes I’ll kill them. All of them!”
She bent back in his embrace, trying for a brave smile. “Aside from the swearing, you sound like my captain.”
He gently pushed a strand of hair out of her face, getting a grip. “What about you?”
“They didn’t manhandle me.” She caressed his temple and the short hair above his ear. “There’s a city to the east. I saw the buildings and streets. From the western frontier we only flew six more minutes. We can’t be that far away. So if we—”
He licked his lips. “We’ll try. Of course, we’ll try.” He kissed and let go of her to unscrew a bottle of water he found at the wall. “Anything you can tell me about this man who came in last?” Sighing with relief, he drank and handed her the bottle. “God, I’ve never been so thirsty.” He wiped his lips with the back of his hand and spat out sand. “Wouldn’t have stood that for another hour.”
“Seems this Lucio calls the shots around here.” She stood to look through the bars again. “He’s quarreling with the pilot. And he browbeat that man who pushed you to the ground. He obviously doesn’t approve of torturing us.”
Ethan snorted. “That Manuel would’ve killed me already, with Sandro lending him a very helping hand. Still, I don’t understand what this is all about. They want us alive and obviously not badly treated, but for what? Do you have another infamous friend I should know of?”
“Does someone you pissed off want to slice you in pieces?”
He lifted and dropped a hand, leaning against the wall. “A hundred, probably.”
“In Peru? I doubt it. Did you read anything about a drug lord or criminal called Lucio?” She came back and sat close to him. “Since you’ve been reading everything there is to know about Peru.”
“No. Crime records were not included.”
“So your preparation for this assignment wasn’t perfect in all aspects. Well, something to improve for the next trip.” When he smirked she added, “But the SecState left the country safe and sound. That’s all that counts. And even Walter praised you. When we get back you’ll be rewarded with a heartfelt handshake.”
“You’re right. I’m relieved Nolan made it out of this mess alive and unharmed. That’s my job.” He reached out for her. “To bring you home unhurt is much more important and still on my list. Princess, are you truly all right? You look...”
“Don’t say anything about your wife’s looks after this ordeal. It’d really upset me.”
He grinned. “You don’t say!” Ethan inched closer and played with a strand of her hair. “I just wanted to say that even after this terrible ordeal, you’re the most wonderful woman I’ve ever met.” He kissed her sensuously. “You complete my life.”
Jazmin fought back tears. “Even looking so disheveled and dirty?”
“Even with my undershirt over your beautiful gown and your hairdo in a mess.”
“My hairdo would’ve been much more elegant in the first place if I hadn’t spent the break at noon with you.”
He cocked his head. “Aw, you’re not saying you wasted a thought on your hairdo while being with me? I’d be very disappointed.”
“No.” She made it a long word and bent forward to receive another chaste kiss. “I very much preferred spending my time playing with your balls.”
“Yeah, you’re getting the hang of this.” They touched noses until they heard steps closing in.
Jazmin sat with her back against the wall, instantly alarmed. Without thinking, she grabbed Ethan’s hand, heart pounding. For a minute she had forced back all thoughts about what might happen to them or what the kidnappers had intended in the first place. She heard Sandro’s snarled words, and then his face appeared at the bars of the door.
“Stay where you are! Don’t move! I’m armed, and I’d love to shoot you!” He unlocked the door and stared at Ethan. “You! Hands on your head and stay like this! If you move, she goes, and you get nothing!” He waited for Ethan to obey, then nodded toward the woman beside him. “Go, Marisa, and make it fast!”
When the door opened Sandro pushed the woman’s back with the rifle butt. She stumbled, bit her lips, and exhaled in obvious frustration. Her oblong face showed Indian heritage with light brown skin and big, dark brown eyes. Her long black hair was braided and fell over her right shoulder. The short-sleeved shirt revealed she was slender but muscled like a long-distance runner. She wore loose pants and tennis shoes with a small hole in each one where the big toe showed through. Trying to ignore Sandro’s bickering, she made another step into the hut.
“I bring you—”
“Hey! Just drop the stuff and get out!” Sandro yelled.
“I bring you some fresh clothes,” she said quietly in Spanish, looking both prisoners up and down. “Water for washing is there in a bucket. Here are some washing cloths, and a towel, too. You look as if... well, you need it.”
“Thank you, Marisa.” Jazmin took the bundle. “That’s kind of you.”
Marisa’s face lit up. “Good. I was told to say to you that you have to change clothes, so, please, do it or... I’ll be punished. I will come back with more to drink and some food. If they allow it,” she added in a whisper, hunching her shoulders. She had the stance of a woman experienced in being dominated by men all of her life. Jazmin judged her to be of her age, but the lines in her face told of hard labor and little fun. She looked Ethan up and down once again. “Is he hurt?”
“That’s my husband Ethan. I’m Jazmin. And, yes, he has cuts on his wrists from the plastic bands. Do you have—?”
Sandro made a step forward and pulled Marisa by the braid. “I said, hurry and get out!”
“Don’t hurt her!” Jazmin dropped the bundle and was on her feet without hesitation.
Marisa cried out, reaching for Sandro’s hand. She held the other one stretched out in Jazmin’s direction as if to keep her back. “Let me go!” she demanded of Sandro.
“I said, no talking to them, you slut!” He turned to Jazmin, aiming one-handed. “Back with you, or I’ll shoot!” When Jazmin lifted her hands in surrender, he pulled Marisa harder. “Move! Now!”
When she obeyed, Sandro let go of her, cursing.
“I’ll see what I can do.” Marisa clenched her teeth against the pain. Her voice was firm. “I’ll come back.” She twitched her lips, but the smile didn’t break through.
Jazmin retreated toward the wall. “Thank you, thank you so much.” She watched her retreat. Sandro slapped Marisa’s face when she didn’t get away fast enough. He slammed the door shut and locked it. The key tingled against another before he put it in his pants’ pocket.
Ethan lowered his hands in his lap. “Did I mention I’m going to kill them all?”
“You did.” Jazmin sank back on the straw-covered ground, shaking like a leaf. Ethan held her from behind. “I should’ve gone for the weapon. I knew you’d be on the go to help me.”
“Princess, please, don’t force it. There’re five or more guards around. We won’t make it during daytime.” He pulled her against his chest and kept his voice low. “The lock’s so simple I can pry it open with your small knife. You just have to hold on a little while longer.” He made her look at him. “Can you do this?”
“Guess I have to.” She bit her lips. Sandro’s attack on Marisa had unnerved her and painfully reminded her of being at Raoul’s hands for weeks. She unfolded the clothes, hands still trembling. “Pants and T-shirts.” She fought for a smile, looking at the simple clothes. The light blue pants had laces to tie them at the waist. “And they come in two different sizes. Don’t say our kidnappers aren’t thoughtful.”
Ethan frowned as he took the two pieces. “Damn, this looks more and more as if they’re planning to keep us here. This hut’s not just another interim arrangement—whatever Lucio plans, it doesn’t look as if we’d be going anywhere for days.”
Jazmin swallowed. The prospect of being kept in this hut unnerved her so much she shivered all over her body. “So Alano was right—we’ve reached our destination. Whatever that means. Did you hear her say that we must change clothes? That’s odd.”
“No, it’s a consequence.”
Jazmin gave him a quizzical look.
“The kidnappers want us to take care of ourselves—washing, new clothes, food and drink. If we stay clean and healthy, they’ve got less trouble with us.”
“You mean I should’ve asked for a brush and a manicure set?”
“Something like that.” Ethan took off jacket and dress shirt. “I admit I don’t mind washing the dirt off.”
“I admit you really need it.”
Ethan cocked his head. “Getting snappy?”
“Trying to. The other option is going raving mad and banging the door until I’m spent.” She lowered her gaze to the clothes, exhaling in frustration. “I just want this over.”
Ethan gently put his hands over hers. “We’ll make it, princess, don’t you worry.”
“Who’s worried?”
* * * *
“What did Hierro say?” Ryan virtually jumped off the chair he’d been sitting in. Riding high on adrenaline since the moment Eduardo had revealed the Mahoney’s possible whereabouts, he couldn’t stand another hour of waiting. “What’re we going to do?”
Vancho gestured him to sit down again. “He’ll investigate. He already knew of some kind of package being transported cross country. So far he was ahead of us. And he already had the camp on his radar. Now he knows it’s worth investigating. He’ll inform us the moment he knows their current location.”
“Who kidnapped them? And why?”
“Obviously Lucio Morales’ people. But why? He can’t say.” Vancho sat and unpacked a sandwich he had bought on the way. “Give him some more time.”
“Time?” Ryan put his hands on the desk and stared at Vancho. “Maybe you can sit here and eat—I can’t! Just thinking of them being locked up in some dirty kennel or worse—it makes my heart ache! I have to do something!”
“Blind action won’t bring them back.” Vancho put down the sandwich. “I told Hierro we want to be part of the rescue team, and he said that’s okay with him as long as we’re not in the way. So the moment he knows where your friends are, he’ll inform us. Until then—drink less coffee. It drives you over the edge.”
Ryan pushed away from the desk, exhaling. He ran a hand over his hair and made the effort to calm down. “I talked with Lennis. He assured me the SecState will inform your US ambassador that you’re delegated to the Diplomatic Service until the situation is over. Does that clear up your worries?”
“You make it sound so easy.” Vancho frowned. “You just call the assistant, and he arranges this... delegation thing with your secretary?”
“Yes.” Ryan unscrewed a small bottle of juice. His hands needed to be occupied. “I described the situation we’re facing and that I can’t do this without you. Hierro doesn’t speak much English, and I can’t learn Spanish that fast.”
“I’m impressed.”
“Do you accept that arrangement?”
“Yes, sure.” A smile broke through. “Jazmin should’ve taught you better.”
“Can the grin, Vancho. It’s not the time. I can’t shake this damn bad feeling that someone from Raoul’s hoodlum gang is playing a major role in this game. And I’ll stick to that until you come up with an idea why this Lucio Morales expanded his business to kidnapping US Americans working for the government. Any news from the CIA on that matter?”
“Indeed.” Vancho took another bite and washed it down with coke. “If you’d sit down again, I might talk without craning my neck.”
Exhaling, Ryan sat down and emptied half of the juice bottle. “Talk.”
“CIA agents are about to check former members of Acosta’s cartel. What they’re doing, where they’re living, and finally, who’s still in contact with the boss. Many of his men—well, those who haven’t been caught and sentenced—have tried to vanish. The ones still in drug trafficking business rarely have contact with Peruvian cartels. Their deals concern North America. They try to transport their goods to the US, not south. Peruvians are producing cocaine. They deliver the gross of raw cocaine to be processed in Colombia, but mostly in the southern region.”
“I see. So this is another dead end?”
“They’re not through yet, especially when it comes to Acosta’s close friends. As they put it, this operation needs fine tuning to not alarm the one responsible. Maybe responsible, that is.” Vancho munched on. “When have you last eaten?”
“Can’t say. I’m too nervous to eat.” Ryan screwed the bottle, biting his lips. “If I could I’d swap places with them immediately. I want them home, Vancho. I want them back to see they’re okay.”
* * * *
Shirt and pants were clean, smelled of hay and faintly of soap, and fit her nicely in size. Jazmin felt awfully vulnerable giving up her clothes. She had folded the beautiful, now stained and dusty gown though she knew she’d never wear it again. No matter how their days would be spent, she wouldn’t take it with her. Sighing, she turned back to Ethan. His shirt was tight across his chest and biceps, the pants too short, leaving half of his calves bare. He had put away the dress pants, jacket and dress shirt on a heap in the shadow of their cell. The sight of him made her cringe. The impressive, even intimidating bodyguard look was gone. If they had to identify themselves, he could no longer claim to be the well-respected bodyguard of a high-ranking US American politician. Though he had finger-combed his hair, it stood on end, and the stubble and injuries worsened his appearance. His eyes were bloodshot and his gaze haunted.
She sat beside him, rested her chin on his drawn-up knee and ran a hand along his bare foot and ankle, eyeing him.
“I don’t like wearing this. Feels like jail clothes to me.”
Ethan caressed her head. His tone was soothing. “It’s just a T-shirt and some kind of cotton pants, nothing compared to the rough orange overalls jails hand out. I stick to what I said—you look radiant in everything.”
“You’re flattering me. That’s nice.” She took a deep breath. “Have you ever been in jail?”
“No. Never done anything to justify that.”
From the way he said the words, Jazmin knew he was hiding the truth from her. “I didn’t mean it could’ve been justified. But during your time as a soldier or with the CIA—did that never happen? Did you always get out clean?”
“Princess, you know I’m not willing to talk about those years.”
“You’re locking me out of your memories. Just tell me why.”
Ethan took a deep breath, and when she begged with her look he sighed. “I’ve tried to live my life being convinced about what I did, the profession I chose. I became a soldier because I wanted to serve my country. I worked for the CIA because I was convinced it was the right thing. In retrospect, I did many things—some without knowing—against this conviction. It’s hard to accept I couldn’t undo certain... things and was even praised for the outcome. It made me... angry and gave me a feeling of helplessness. I don’t want to share those memories with anyone. Not even with you.”
She laced her hand with his. “You’re doing the right thing now—taking care of your wife.”
Ethan smiled, obviously relieved she didn’t press him for details. “Anytime.” He put an arm around her shoulder when she huddled against his side. “Are you feeling all right?”
“Yeah.” She put a hand on his belly. “They gave us enough food and drink to be satisfied. I was allowed to brush and braid my hair, and we could wash ourselves. I hadn’t put it beyond them to hand you a razor. You look like a thug by now, with that stubble.”
“Thanks a lot.” He gave a curt bow and ran a hand over the stubble on his chin. “I don’t mind skipping shaving for a few days.”
Her voice sank to a threatening growl. “You won’t show up like some grizzly hunter on Christmas day, right?”
Ethan pursed his lips as if pondering the possibility. “If I’m to play Santa, I need more than stubble. I should start growing a beard right away.”
Jazmin made a disgusted face and he chuckled. “Imagine your mom’s face when I open the door in some checkered flannel shirt, unkempt, and with a beard reaching down to my chest. What would she say?”
“She’d check the name plate and ask if her son-in-law had moved.” Jazmin shook her head. “Don’t do that to her. You know how much she loves to show off with her famous son-in-law, the bodyguard. She’ll bring her closest friends and their families. I bet she’d faint seeing you like a scoundrel.”
“And you?” He kissed the tip of her nose. “What would you say?”
Jazmin replied in her bedroom voice, “I’d rip that ugly shirt off your body, push away the beard, and kiss my way down your navel. If you’d dare to wear anything else, it would have to go, so I could check whether your accessories were still intact on Christmas day.”
Ethan swallowed. He appeared out of breath. “You don’t like checkered flannel shirts?”
“I like unwrapping you to see you in nothing, Ethan, and you damn well know it.” She cocked her head. “The beard would be next on my list, of course.” And when he arched his brows, she added, “I like my man neat, clean-shaven. That reminds me that I’ve always wanted to wet shave you.”
“Wet shave? Why’s that?”
Jazmin ran a hand across his chin and cheek, smiling about his disgust. “The feel of it. Nothing compares to a wet shave. It’s so... smooth.”
“You really want to do that?”
“A girl can have dreams, right?”
Ethan inched away from her to look her in the eyes. “If that’s something you like—why haven’t you told me?”
Jazmin gave him an innocent look. “Because you once told me you didn’t like the time and effort. Especially not with your fast growing beard.”
“You remember that? After such a long time?”
Jazmin nodded. “I do.”
He shook his head, then a smile broke through. “Let’s make a deal, princess. Once back at home, I’ll allow you to shave me to your heart’s content, okay? That’s my Christmas gift for you.”
She bit her lips. “Just the beard?”
Ethan gaped at her and inhaled for a reply when boots announced another visitor to their cell. Instinctively Jazmin huddled closer to him while he tensed and drew up his legs to jump forward if the need occurred. The key was turned in the lock, and to their surprise Lucio paid a visit, bringing with him a whiff of expensive cologne, as well as Alano and Sandro, both with their hands on their guns, and both looking grumpy, like teenagers put under house arrest.
“Stay where you are!” Sandro barked.
“Is anything amiss?” Lucio asked and squinted at them as he stepped in and looked around. His voice was smooth and tried to convey interest. “Just name it, and if it’s possible it’ll be provided.”
“Who are you?” Ethan demanded to know.
“I’m the owner of your current abode.” Lucio grinned broadly as he stretched out his hands to both sides. “I hope you like staying here because that’s what you’ll do—at least for some days.”
“Tell us why you kidnapped us.”
Lucio made an apologetic gesture. “That is a question I’m not willing to answer. Not now, anyway. I see you used the chance to change clothes. That’s good. You look much better now. I also hope that you were served with food and drink.” He waited for them to nod. “Well, what I wanted to know is—do you need anything else? Medication, maybe? From what I heard my men were not treating you as kindly as I had ordered, so allow me to make up for their—”
“Torture?” Jazmin prompted. “Call it what it is! They manhandled us, beat my husband, and tied us up as if we were criminals!”
“This maniac attacked—” Sandro yelled, but stopped when Lucio lifted his hand.
Jazmin couldn’t shake the thought of seeing a scene from The Godfather. “What do you say to that?”
“I apologize. They had strict orders and disregarded them, but you have to admit that you were not, say, the nice couple I thought you’d be. So I ask you again—do you need anything? I see you bandaged your husband’s wrists. Are you in need of new dressings?”
“Yes, but that’s not what I want to know. Why are you doing this? You kidnapped us and brought us through half the country to do what? Do you intend to keep us here? In this hut? Locked up?”
Lucio exhaled as if talking with stubborn children. “If you can’t answer my question, I’ll leave. You’ll receive blankets and sleeping bags for the night.”
“Why did you do this?” Jazmin couldn’t keep the fright out of her voice. She was trembling, and not even Ethan’s comforting hand could change that. “What are you going to do with us?”
“You won’t come to harm, that’s all I can tell you right now.” Lucio smirked. “And that’s more than I offer my prisoners usually.” He left, and Sandro hurried to lock the door.
The steps abated, and Jazmin let go of her quivering breath. “I can’t stand this tension much longer.” She turned to Ethan. “Please, say that you can open that damn door and find us a way to escape.”
Ethan gently caressed her face. “We’ll get away from here, princess. We will.”