Beyond Redemption (12 page)

As a projectile weapon, there wasn’t much fear of bodily penetration, as flares were fairly low velocity, but burns were a distinct possibility, especially if the flares contained phosphorous, a fact she wouldn’t be able to ascertain unless she fired the thing at someone. Still, it was the only weapon at hand, and it would have to do.

Her chance at escape from the trunk came a short time later when the driver was forced to slow down. From the pounding she was taking, Angelique could only assume they were traveling poorly maintained secondary roads. Also, judging from the way she had to brace herself, they were heading into the mountainous regions. Her gut told her it was now or never, so she grasped the emergency trunk release, pulled, and was stunned by the moonlit landscape before her eyes. She couldn’t help it; a soft moan escaped her. There was jungle on either side of the road.

The driver slammed on the brakes, and Angelique nearly tumbled out onto the pavement. She scrambled over the lip of the trunk, flare gun in hand, the spares stuffed into the pockets of her denim shorts. The driver and passenger flung open their car doors, exiting the vehicle as Angelique backed away from them, thankful for the full moon that allowed her to see her enemy.

Both men were short and stocky with dark skin and hair. She pointed the flare gun at the gap between them as they began to approach her, both men laughing and muttering in Spanish that she was a stupid whore if she thought to defend herself with a flare gun. Squint-eyed with anger, she fired and quickly reloaded.

The driver screamed as the flare set his clothes alight. She turned and fled as his companion slapped at the burning material, running down the uneven road, not daring to look over her shoulder to see if the passenger was pursuing her. On she ran, listening for the sounds of footfalls behind her, tripping once, her momentum making it impossible to break her fall. She got up, and continued to sprint through the moonlit darkness. Hope of escape flickered the farther she got without the sounds of pursuit. Her breath sawed from her chest with harsh puffs, but she kept moving. Her hopes of escape were dashed when headlights illuminated the roadway from behind her. Would her captors run her down? She didn’t hesitate; she veered off the road, skidded down the steep incline on her ass, and plunged into the darkness of the thick vegetation.

Angelique was terrified of the jungle. There were a million different ways to die in the Amazon—snakebite, poisonous insects, jaguars, parasites, and that was just to name a few. Maybe she wouldn’t have to go that far in. Maybe the driver’s partner would leave her to get his friend to a hospital. But he didn’t. He slammed the car into park and started down the incline after her. She ran, but she didn’t get far before he grabbed a handful of her hair and dragged her backward.

“No!” Angelique screeched. “Nooo!”

“Scream all you want, American puta. If Alejandro didn’t want you, I’d kill you and leave you in the jungle to rot. Maybe I do that anyway, eh? Fuck you while I carve you up with my knife. All that blood, how long before you attract the scent of a jaguar? Not long, I think. Now move, or I promise you I will take great pleasure in killing you slowly.” He loosened his grip on her hair and gave her a shove. She stumbled, fell onto all fours, and he gave her vicious kick. “Get up and move, bitch.”

Angelique closed her hand around piece of downed wood and gripped it tightly as she pushed herself to her feet. She turned, a screech erupting from her throat as swung the wood club. And, saints be praised, it connected with her tormentor’s jaw. His head snapped sideways, and he lurched backward, tripping over a stump. Angelique took the brief opportunity to race out of the dank jungle and scramble up the shoulder to the road. If she could just make it to the car. He’d left it running, thinking she’d be easy to catch. If she could get behind the wheel, she might be able to drag the injured man onto the road and save herself yet.

She had almost made it when she was hit from behind. Her captor picked her up and slammed her against the car. He bent her over the back fender, putting his mouth close to her ear.

“I’m going to shove my dick so far up your ass it’ll come out of your mouth,” he snarled, shoving a hand between her legs.

Angelique grunted in pain as he pressed his left arm against her spine. “Your dick isn’t big enough to shove anywhere except your boyfriend’s mouth, asshole.”

He uttered a howl of anger and flipped her onto her back, planting his fist in the center of her face. White-hot pain exploded as her nose, the cartilage crackling from the force of the blow, gushed an eruption of blood and snot. Fuck, that hurt. And he didn’t let up. He rained blows upon her body like a prizefighter, only stopping when his friend called out to him in agony. He let her fall to the roadway as he took a moment to check on his companion, then dragged her bare-legged across the pavement and tossed her into the backseat. “Fix him, puta, or I’ll kill you before we ever reach Colombia.”

* * * *

Acosta was beside himself when he learned Angelique had been snatched off the streets of Rio. “Benito García is behind this, I know it,” he shouted at Emilio.

Emilio steepled his fingers and nodded. “I am afraid you may be right, my friend, but he takes his orders from Medina. I have a few calls in to see what I can find out. You must be patient, Mitchell.”

“Fuck that,” Mitch growled, jerking his fingers through his tangled hair. “They can’t have gotten that far, Emilio. I need to move fast. I need to find her before García hurts her.”

Emilio rose from behind his desk and walked around to place a hand on Acosta’s shoulder. “We will find her, Mitchell. This I promise you. Now sit, have a drink, and wait until your friend, Seth, gets here. Hopefully we will have some information by the time he arrives. My man tells me that the chopper has left Ecuador and is en route. He will be here in a couple of hours, eh? Until then we must remain calm.”

Mitch sank into a chair, head in his hands. “If he hurts her. He hates her, Emilio, for humiliating him in public. She’s not a petite little thing, but she’s fine-boned and…I saw what he did to poor Amelita.”

Emilio sat down on a chair beside him. “My friends in the government are checking all hospitals and pharmacies in Brazil. It will take time, but if she needed care or…or she was left somewhere, we will find out, my friend. Likewise, they are checking purchases for medical supplies such as bandages and antiseptics. We will find her, Mitchell, I promise you that. Angelique is like a daughter to me. I will never stop looking for her. Never.”

Mitch gained his feet. “I need some air. If you hear anything…I’ll be in the garden.” He hurried from the room, tormented by the thought of his Angel needing antiseptic and bandages or, worse, lying by the side of the road, dead by the hand of Benito García.

He pushed through the French doors leading to the paved courtyard and made his way to the exotic garden Marina had brought back to life when she’d married Emilio. He knew where he was going, to the very heart of the garden. Angelique had told him once that it was her favorite place on the vast estate. He took a seat on a bench beneath a pergola covered in passionflower vines. One day he would make love to Angelique in this very spot.

If anything happened to her… He was no fool. He knew what could happen to her. García was a vicious son of a bitch who made his living by providing women to FARC and ELN guerillas. But even that wasn’t the worst of it. If the sex traffickers got a look at her, she’d be destined for the harem of some wealthy sheik, never to be seen again.

Could he live with himself if he didn’t find her and take her back? He certainly couldn’t imagine a world without his Angel in it. Even when he’d been off fighting the government’s private wars, he’d known where she was. Knew she was hard at work making a difference in people’s lives, and that knowledge gave him hope. Gave him the will to survive under the toughest conditions. He’d moved heaven and earth more times than he could count just to be able to see her again. To spend one night in her arms. He didn’t figure a man ever got over that kind of love, even if it wasn’t returned. But he still had hope. Because she’d admitted in a fit of anger that she had been falling for him.

Mitch stood up and paced the smooth stones paving the center of the garden where a gurgling fountain soothed. He would tell her. Once he found her and took her back, he would tell her everything, and she would love him again. He sat back down and closed his eyes, forcing himself to rest. It could be days before he closed his eyes again, so he’d take every opportunity to refresh himself.

He didn’t know how long he’d been sleeping, but a light nudge to his ankle had him jolting awake, dropping into a fighting stance.

“Easy, bro, it’s just me.”

Seth. Thank God. Mitch yawned and rotated his neck. “About time you got here, man. I got so bored waiting, I fell asleep.”

Seth chuckled. “Come on. Emilio’s got news.”

“She was seen crossing the border in Tarapaca in the company of two men.” Emilio pointed to a dot on the map indicating a small town just across the border between Brazil and Colombia. “One of the men was identified as Jorge Collado.”

Acosta’s jaw tensed. “That little son of a bitch. He wanted to sell her. Said with her blonde hair and pretty face, she’d fetch a fortune in the Middle East. If that’s the plan, they’re probably heading for Buenaventura. But if FARC wants her for ransom, they’ll head to Ecuador, to the cloud forest. Either way it’s going to be slow going because there aren’t many good roads and the Colombian army has a pretty heavy presence all along the border. My guess is they’ll go as far as they can by car; then they’ll have to hike the rest of the way.”

The three men studied a series of maps for the best route to each destination. Emilio said, “I’ll cover Buenaventura. I have business interests there, so my being there will not seem suspicious.” He squeezed Mitch’s shoulder. “I’ll call your sat phone the moment I know something, my friend. Now we should get you geared up, yes? We will leave at first light.”

* * * * *

Two weeks rough travel brought Acosta and Boudreaux to the village of La Hormiga, thirteen miles from the border of Ecuador, where they met up with a FARC contingent, but Jorge Collado was not with them.

“He should be here in a few days, amigo, with a couple of hostages for the general. I think he will not be happy to see you, Acosta. I have heard he has your woman with him. The general requires her…services…or so I am told. And Jorge has another friend of yours traveling with him. You remember Benito García, eh? I think he will not have been too kind to your woman, and he has not forgotten you broke his nose.”

Acosta shrugged. “If he doesn’t kill her, she’ll heal, no? So long as he doesn’t break her pussy, what do I care what he does to her?”

The FARC guerilla grinned. “She’s got a tight one, does she?”

Mitch laughed and rubbed his crotch. “Like a glove, amigo, like a glove.” He looked over at Seth. “What do you think, son; maybe we should do some hunting before the lady arrives. She’s going to need her strength with this lot.”

No one had a problem with Mitch and Seth leaving; in fact, they encouraged them to bring back as many monkeys as they could carry and promised a feast fit for a king if their hunt went well. Of course, they had no intention of returning to La Homiga. Their plan was to intercept Collado and García and take their prisoners from them before they could ever reach Medina’s camp.

* * * * *

The man called Collado had calmed down once Angelique had cared for his friend. He left the man in the care of an old woman and her family and had taken the car as far as it was possible to go before abandoning it on the side of the muddy road in favor of an almost nonexistent trail. They had walked for days, climbing ever higher into the rainforest. She was exhausted but dared not complain for fear of another beating. She’d had to set her own nose, and bruises she’d sustained when she’d tried to escape were just now beginning to heal. She was dirty, tired, covered with bug bites, and hungry, but she told herself to hang on. Acosta would find her, if for no other reason than to secure her for himself.

Night was falling on the seventh day of their hike when she stumbled. Collado grabbed her by the front of her shirt with a sneer. “We are here, Doctor, though I do not suppose you will like your guide for the final leg of your journey.” With that he shoved her through the overgrowth and into the light of a fire, and there, across the flames, was Benito García. He rose with a grace that surprised her and moved to stand before her.

“We meet again, Doctor.” He backhanded her, knocking her to the ground. “It is a shame I cannot do more, but General Medina wishes to see you and I am under orders to see to it that you get there unharmed.” He laughed when she glared up at him from the forest floor. “That was just an example of what to expect if you try to escape.” He nodded to Collado. “Put her in the tent with the other prisoner. We leave at first light.”

Angelique was roughly dragged to her feet and shoved toward a tent on the far side of the clearing. Collado unzipped the tent entrance and shoved her so hard she stumbled and fell to her hands and knees. The door was zipped closed behind her, and she shrieked when a hand groped for her in the dark.

“Shh…it’s all right.” It was a woman’s voice. “It’s okay. Are you thirsty? I have some water.”

“Yes,” Angelique croaked. “But my mouth is filled with blood.”

“I know the feeling,” came the grim reply. “I’ll unzip the tent. You rinse your mouth and spit.” She spoke in rapid Spanish to let their captors know what they were doing, and Angelique rinsed the blood from her mouth. The girl secured the tent again and urged Angelique to drink. “I’m Taffe Thurgood; what’s your name?”

The tepid water was as good as anything Angelique had ever tasted in her life. “Angelique Vernet,” she said. “I’m a doctor with the Helping Hands organization. You’re the girl from the Peace Corps that was taken, aren’t you?”

“That would be me,” Taffe said. “FARC is holding me for ransom. They keep telling me my father won’t pay, but I know that’s not true. I hear them talking, you know? Every time Father agrees to their demands, they up the price. I… How long have I been here, do you know? I’ve lost track of time.”