Bright and early the next morning, Zach, wearing cargo shorts, runners, an open-neck shirt, and a chirpier disposition, tapped on Beth’s door. Havoc’s words were balm, and he was going to start afresh, put the past behind him. Tomorrow was going to be hellish. Today he planned to be calm and relaxed. That would rub off onto Beth too, put her more at ease. God knows she must be scared witless.
“Morning, Zach, come on in.” She stood aside and he breezed in, closing the door behind him.
“Hi, how did you sleep?” he asked as she walked over to the bed.
“So-so. What about you?” She glanced up from stuffing things into her backpack.
“So-so.” He flashed her his pearly whites.
She returned his smile and then went back to her task. It gave him the opportunity to study her face. The smudgy dark circles under her eyes were a dead giveaway. She hadn’t slept a wink, but it didn’t mar her beauty. She’d put on weight since their last encounter, her bottom was rounder, her breasts bigger, more lush. He watched with lust and envy as they jiggled and swayed beneath her shirt, his fingers itching to fondle the delightful flesh as she continued packing.
“All done.”
Beth caught him unawares as she spun toward him and raised an eyebrow, her lips pursing. The goofy grin slid from his face. Yeah, she’d caught him gawking, but what was he, dead?
He cleared his throat. “If you’re ready, we’ll head downstairs to join the others.”
“Ready as I’ll ever be.” She smirked, and with her pack slung onto her shoulder, trounced out the door leaving him to shadow her to the lift.
The down button was jabbed with a pointed finger. The lift arrived, and they stepped into the small box that felt infinitely smaller with just the two of them than it had the night before with the addition of Hawk and Havoc.
When the doors opened on the ground floor, it was Hawk chatting with the concierge who first came into view. He was hard to miss. Apart from his size and red hair, he was dressed in kickass boots, baggy shorts, and a Hawaiian print shirt that was so loud it screamed tourist. And funny enough, he blended in, just another American college kid down south taking in the sights.
Havoc, in faded khaki pants and a common garden-variety polo shirt, was also inconspicuous despite his size and the Akubra he held in his hand. He was at the front desk checking out when Beth and he walked up to him.
“You eaten?” Zach asked.
“Yeah, in my room. How about you guys?”
“Same here,” Zach replied. “How about you, Beth?”
“Yep.”
“Morning all, what a beautiful day.”
Hawk joined the group, chirpy as a lark in spring. “Wasn’t that the best breakfast ever, Beth? I swear I’m so full I might just have to skip lunch.”
“Yes, Hawk, breakfast was really good, but let’s not get crazy.” She laughed.
Zach stiffened. He pulled his mouth into a thin line and fisted his hands. He wanted to hit something, more specifically—Hawk’s face.
“Are we set to go, then?” Havoc asked, slipping his wallet into his back pocket.
“I checked out earlier, and I’ve put the rest of my gear in storage for a week. Do you think that will be long enough?” Beth asked no one in particular.
“You’ll be back in New York sipping cappuccinos in less than a week, love.” Havoc was optimistic.
“Jeep should be waiting out front. I asked the concierge to organize it,” Hawk told them with a grin.
“What do you want, a medal?” Zach snarled and received a thump in the chest from Havoc with the back of his knuckles for his trouble.
“Huh.”
“Right then, if we’re all ready, let’s move it.” Havoc led the way to the front of the hotel.
* * * *
Manuel was in a tizzy, he’d been trying to contact Carlos since the four Americanos checked out. It was now late afternoon and he was on a break, so he dialed the familiar number yet again. This time he was in luck.
“Carlos, where have you been? I have been calling all day. We have trouble.” He paced to and fro with short quick steps as he spoke to his cousin. He’d been walking on eggshells since the gringos left that morning, and his anxiety had only worsened as the day dragged on.
“What has happened, cousin?”
“The Carmichael bitch left this morning with three big Americanos.”
“That is regrettable. What have you decided?”
“At first light tomorrow, move the woman to Don Salvatore’s jungle hacienda.” Manuel wavered on the side of caution, it was one thing to coerce a weak woman, but three strong, fit men could prove difficult.
“Our uncle will be angry.”
“Perhaps, but it is the best solution, and he will get over it. Tell Hernandez not to approach the Carmichael woman unless he is certain she is alone, then bring her and the money to Don Salvatore’s as well.”
“And if she is not alone?”
“Then he must not make contact and the other one dies.”
* * * *
The plane trip was uneventful. Nick slept most of the way, and Christian was too preoccupied to even flirt with the attractive hostess. She’d tried in vain to hit on him, but he couldn’t muster the interest or the inclination. His mind was in chaos over Beth and Loretta.
Loretta was the typical poor little rich girl striving for attention. If he’d bailed her out once, he’d done it a dozen times, sometimes with Beth, but not always. Nick spoke to Buchanan last night, and the guy was delusional, blamed Beth for everything. It wasn’t true, and if Nick didn’t set him straight, he sure as hell would. If for nobody’s sake other than Loretta’s, the brother needed to have his blinkers removed, and Loretta needed to ’fess up.
His thoughts were still travelling along those lines when the plane touched down at El Dorado International Airport. Nick grumbled in response to having his shoulder shaken. He’d had very little sleep the last few days.
“How do we recognize this dude?” Nick asked as they went through customs.
“Big and mean-looking.” Christian repeated what his buddy had told him. And once clear of the formalities, he had to concede his buddy was right as an ugly son of bitch came up to them and extended his hand.
“Rhys Monroe, you must be Carmichael. Conrad said you were an ugly son of a bitch.”
Christian flashed his teeth as Monroe voiced his own thoughts. “Yeah, I’m Christian, and this is my brother Nick.” He gripped Monroe’s hand and sized him up on the spot. Tough and no bullshit, just the type he liked doing business with.
“I’ve got a jeep out front loaded with the hardware you requested. What’s going down here anyway? Conrad didn’t say much.”
“Our sister Beth came here on a working holiday with a friend who’s now been abducted, and Beth has to deliver the ransom.”
“No shit. Friends of a friend flew in yesterday with the same problem, makes me glad I don’t have a sister.” Monroe strode to the jeep as they spoke.
“Not Buchanan?” Nick grumbled.
“You know him?”
“Not really, but it’s his bloody sister that’s caused all this trouble.”
“Buchanan and his men will do whatever it takes, you can rely on that. I know their old commander, and he was one tough mother. His men are cut from the same cloth.”
“Did they mention anything that might be of help to us?”
“No, all I know is they were headed to the Hotel El Pasa in Bogotá, but I’m willing to bet my left nut they’re not there now.”
“Yeah, they planned to leave this morning, so your nuts are safe,” Nick told him as they came to a standstill in front of a dusty jeep.
“Here she is. I think you’ll find everything in order.”
“Thanks, Monroe, we appreciate all you’ve done.”
“Don’t mention it, happy to help a brother.”
Nick took the passenger seat, and Christian climbed in beside him and set the jeep in motion. The plan was to spend the night at a hotel closer to the drop site and start bright and early the next morning.
As they headed out of the city, the GPS chip in Beth’s cell confirmed she was on the move through some tricky territory. It was a scary business. Any one of the known factions operating down here could have taken Loretta, as could any number of unknown two-bit operators. They no doubt saw kidnapping as an easy solution to inject some capital into their operation. The idea of Beth making a drop to any of those fuckers scared him shitless.
If that wasn’t enough to chill his blood, Colombian drug trafficking was a serious business. Sure, the US Military had shifted the known drug routes, but the cartels were highly adaptable and new contraband routes had been established throughout the country.
There was no denying Buchanan and his men were the best of the best, he’d checked them out personally, but that gave him little comfort. There was a distinct possibility they could stumble across one of those routes by accident, then, highly trained or not, it wouldn’t matter.