Navy SEAL Noel (10 page)

And disaster for anyone trying to get in.

Any drug lord in this area wasn't typically worried about keeping people inside the walls. Will and Jess were exceptions. Typically, those inside were loyal to the leader.

So all those red marks around the complex most likely weren't for keeping people in. They were for keeping people out.

This compound had been under attack.

And it didn't take a bioengineer to figure out that Jess had been brought here to retaliate.

It would be much too easy to spend the entire morning playing out what the rest of the information might mean, but Will needed sleep more than he needed to put puzzle pieces together. He couldn't afford to let his senses get sloppy.

Rolling onto his side, he used his hands as a pillow and closed his eyes. He'd been asleep for about twelve minutes when the metal door of his room scraped against the cement floor.

Instantly alert, Will didn't move more than his eyelids to take in the sight of the two men standing in shadow in the doorway. He could make out only their shapes against the shockingly bright light of the internal hallway at their back.

The stockier man swore in Spanish, his voice vaguely familiar.

The other one held out his hand. “Pay up.”

“I'm telling you, he wasn't here.” The first guy shook his head violently as he slammed the metal door back into place.

As soon as it was closed, Will leaped from the mattress, flying across the narrow room. Pressing an ear to the wall next to the door hinges, he stayed absolutely silent.

“You've just been drinking too much. Give me my money.”

“He wasn't there. I saw that bed empty!” The stout man's growl surely woke up anyone else sleeping in the three other rooms off the hallway. “It wasn't a fair bet.”

“Why not? Because you lost?” Something heavy bumped into the other side of the wall at Will's shoulder. “You owe me twenty dollars, Raul. Today.”

Will's ears twitched. Raul had been after them before. He had an eye, if not the speed, for chasing them down.

“I don't have it.”

“What do you mean? It was your bet. Your idea.” Will could hear the anger filling the slighted man's voice.

“Well, he wasn't there.”

“You keep saying that, but he's there now, so I want my money.”

“But then where'd he go?”

“Maybe he fell off his bed.”

Will glanced around the empty room. Other than the rusted, metal frame holding up a sagging mattress, and a chipped, yellowish sink in the far corner, there was no cover.

The second man's voice dropped to a lethal whisper. “If he wasn't in there, then where was he?”

Silence. Far too much silence.

Pinching his fingers at the bridge of his nose, Will prayed that they'd forget about it and just let it go. That they'd chalk it up to one man's drunken hallucinations.

“I d-don't know.” Raul's voice was weak and carried a little stutter.

The man who wanted his money cackled. “Then maybe we should find out.”

“Shouldn't we tell Juan Carlos or El Jefe?”

“Tell them what? That you were drunk on guard duty? That you had to come get me to sound the alarm because you didn't want anyone to find you this wasted? Maybe we should watch the Americans first. Maybe they're up to something. It could be worth much more than your twenty dollars.”

Will's stomach twisted into a painful knot, his palms suddenly slick as he wiped them down his dirty gray pants.

He was going to have to find a way out of this compound while being watched like a hawk by someone he couldn't identify.

EIGHT

J
ess held out her plate, careful not to let a speck of food fall to the mess hall floor. After a night of restless sleep, she needed any energy the spicy calories could provide.

The cook glared at her, clearly recalling her spilled breakfast the day before yesterday. Ducking her head, she pulled her plate close and spun to sit down at the end of a long bench. Its sharp edges cut into the back of her legs, helping to keep her groggy mind alert.

She shoveled in two bites of the slop on her plate, swallowing before the texture could compel her to stop eating. Just as she lifted the third forkful to her mouth, Will plopped down across the table.

His eyes were rimmed in red and more bloodshot than she remembered them being the day before.

She glanced at Sergio and Manuel, who stood about ten feet away, their backs to their charges. Other than the two guards and the cook, she and Will were alone in the room, most of the men having eaten and left for the fields long before.

You okay?
She mouthed the words.

He surveyed the nearly empty room, then leaned forward. “We have a little problem.”

Her stomach lurched, the mush in her mouth turning into a painful lump. She tried to swallow it, but her throat had closed.

Father in heaven, what if we don't make it home?

For the first time since Will's arrival, she acknowledged her fear and that very real possibility. She'd counted on making it home in time for Christmas. She'd planned on giving her dad the deep-sea fishing pole she'd purchased three months before. Since Will's arrival, she'd even allowed herself to wonder if she and Will could restore a hint of the friendship they'd once shared in San Diego.

But what if they didn't make it home at all?

What if this was the end of the line for them both?

She choked down her breakfast, cringing as it traveled down her throat and settled heavily in the pit of her stomach. Setting her fork next to her plate, she bent closer and kept her voice low. “What is it?”

A shake of his head sent the little lock of hair over his forehead dancing. “Not here.”

Jess couldn't eat another bite, her stomach in complete mutiny, so she bit her lips together, pressed her hands into her lap and bowed her head.

The riot in her mind wouldn't let her form a coherent prayer. She just repeated the same mantra over and over.
You're alone. You're alone. You're all alone.

First her mom. Then Will.

Had God given up on her also?

Manuel grabbed her arm and pushed her toward the exit. She went without a struggle or even a thought. In the yard she stumbled around a puddle, only to step all the way into another. Her foot disappeared up to her ankle in the muck, and she screeched. Will reached for her elbow, his sure grip keeping her from falling into the crater.

Inside the lab her steadiness didn't improve. Every time she glanced at Will, her mind flew to all the possible things that could have gone wrong in the two or three hours that she'd lain awake on her cot. If he'd been caught by a guard before making it back into his room, then he wouldn't be here with her. Would he?

Manuel scowled at her, his posture more tense than it had been the day before. His fingers pressed against his gun so hard they turned white, and his lip curled in an agitated sneer. His eyes slicing through her, he barked a word that obviously meant she should hurry.

There was an extra edge to his bark this morning. Usually he displayed his displeasure with unhappy grunts and squinted eyes, but there was a hatred there that she'd never seen before. Was it tied to Will's trouble? Or was it caused by something as innocuous as the terrible breakfast?

Her pulse thudded painfully at her neck and wrists, but she didn't look away from her guard as she massaged her gloved hands over the throbbing points. Then she dropped several canisters into sudsy water. As it splashed near the rim of the sink, Will sidled up next to her and took the scrub brush from her hand.

“Let me do that.” His tone implied that he was asking for her permission, but the intention in his movements couldn't be denied. “How many do you need?”

“Six.”

Focused on watching Manuel for any reason behind his bad mood, she didn't check to see if Will had complied or where he set the cleaned equipment. When she finally swung in his direction, her elbow bumped into a glass beaker filled with baking powder that she'd left sitting on the counter. As it flew through the air, time seemed to stand still. Jess windmilled her arms, reaching for it, but it shattered against the cement floor with a scream like a banshee.

Or maybe the scream had come from her.

Glass flew in every direction, bouncing off the floor, the cabinets and her apron, even as she scrambled back into Will, who hugged her waist and pulled her against his chest.

“Did you hurt yourself?” His breath played with the hair at the back of her neck that had pulled free of her ponytail.

She shook her head, trying desperately to tune out the bellowing from Manuel and Sergio. Lurching from the room, the two guards escaped, slamming the door behind them.

Will squeezed Jess briefly. “What was in there?”

“It's harmless. Mostly just baking powder.”

He sighed, letting his arm drop from the embrace, and she leaned against the counter for a moment to catch her breath. After pulling over a metal trash can, he stooped to pick up the biggest pieces of glass.

Pulling paper towels off a nearby rack, she joined him, wiping up the white mess, careful not to tear her only pair of gloves on tiny shards.

“So, are you going to tell me what you meant this morning? What kind of a problem do we have?”

He tossed in two more hunks of glass before answering. “Someone saw that I wasn't in my bed last night.”

Her hands stopped moving, and she blinked at him.

“Just after I got back into my room, two men came in. They were arguing over a bet they'd made, about if I was actually in there or not. One of them—our friend from the other night, Raul—swore I hadn't been there earlier.” Will kept his voice low, his gaze settling somewhere beyond Jess's shoulder. “The second guy didn't believe that I'd really been gone, but Raul was so adamant that he seemed willing to consider the idea in the end.”

Her stomach felt as if she'd been surfing in a hurricane.

“But that's not the problem.”

That didn't help. How could it get worse?

“Instead of turning us in, they're going to be watching me—us—to see what we're up to. I got the feeling that they think they can gain some information to leverage a promotion within the cartel.”

A band around Jess's chest tightened until her breathing was ragged at best. “So some guys are going to be watching us more closely than usual. But you didn't see who they were? You can't identify them?”

“They were just in shadows.” Will brushed at a stain on his pant leg as if removing it was key to getting them out of the compound. “I only saw their outlines for a second before they went back into the hallway, and I only got Raul's name. And unless he's the only overweight guard they have here, I doubt I could pick him out of a crowd.”

Even when he'd chased them onto the shed roof, it had been dark. Jess couldn't identify more than his round belly and nasally voice, either.

“Is there any chance that Manuel was one of the men?” The memory of his angry leer made her skin crawl, and she gave an involuntary shudder.

“No.” Will stood and picked up the broom that had been tucked between the counter and the wall in the far corner. Sweeping up the last of the spill with slow strokes, he frowned thoughtfully. “I'd have recognized Manuel or Sergio's shape or voice. It wasn't either of them.”

She held a dustpan for him, then rose to dump the contents into the can. Her knees popped as she stood, and she bent to rub them after squatting so long. “What are we going to do?”

“The only thing we can. Stick together and keep our eyes and ears open.”

* * *

The rest of the day passed in a haze, Jess working on autopilot while Will watched her, concern crinkling the corners of his eyes.

She was nearly ready to begin cleaning up the workstation for the night, when someone barged into the lab. Manuel and Sergio jumped to attention, their slouched positions forgotten in the presence of the new arrival. Sergio managed a sloppy salute. “El Jefe.”

El Jefe said something that put both guards at ease, but his obsidian eyes never left Jess. “
Hola.
My apologies. I have not been in to check on you in several days.” The little man bobbed his head in a mock bow, but his face never lost the stern expression. His mustache twitched, reminding her of her unhappy high school principal. Although high-pitched, El Jefe's English was actually very clear, and she couldn't help but wonder where he had learned it.

After years of Great-aunt Eva drilling formal etiquette into her, Jess had to bite her tongue to keep from greeting him in return. Her hands shook at the effort it took not to respond, and maybe even more so at the evil that flickered in his eyes. Will's attempt to comfort her by running the back of his knuckles down her wrist, just out of sight of their visitor, did nothing to ease her nerves.

But at least he was right by her side.

After a long standoff, El Jefe pasted a fake smile into place and turned to Will. “I hope you're settling in well.”

“Tolerably.” Will's response earned a low chuckle that didn't fit such a tiny person.

“Good. Good. And you have everything you need.”

He hadn't really asked a question, but Jess answered, anyway. “Not even close.”

El Jefe's head jerked in her direction. The change in his features was minor, but deadly intense. “Oh, really?”

She could manage only a nod as her fingers fluttered for Will's just below the edge of the table, latching on as soon as they found his. Jess attempted to pull from Will's strength, trying to keep her knees from buckling.

“And I suppose that's why you've been so slow to produce a demonstration.”

She swallowed against the desert in her throat, but couldn't produce any real reply other than a hesitant nod.

“Or maybe you've been distracted.” The drug lord gestured toward Will, but didn't break eye contact with her. “Yes, I think that's it.”

She shook her head. “No. I need the help. I can't pressurize the canisters alone.” She hated the way her voice jumped half an octave at the end, her lie clearly audible to her own ears. Or was it desperation she heard? She couldn't let this strange little man separate them. That's what Will had said. They needed to stay together or they'd never get out alive.

Finally, El Jefe looked away, his gaze settling on a squirming Manuel. Her only clue to the meaning in his rapid-fire Spanish was the gentle squeeze of Will's hand. It couldn't be good if Will was trying to comfort her.

“Manuel will take Mr. Darrow back to his room. He can stay there until you show us the poison in action.”

Will pressed his shoulders back but other than that remained still.

Why wasn't he reacting? How could he be so calm, when her insides were threatening to fly apart at any minute?

Still he said nothing, so with a silent prayer for all the right words, she opened her mouth and let whatever was in there spill out.

“I need his help. But I'm not unleashing Morsyni just for a test run. It'll kill you, me and everyone else inside these walls.” El Jefe wasn't impressed, crossing his arms over his round chest. “But if we work together—” she tipped her head toward Will “—we can show you how it will work.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow.” What a terrible thing to promise. What had she been thinking? Clearly, she wasn't. She was just going on instinct, and hers had never been very good. But Will leaned in closer, his presence familiar and reassuring.

El Jefe narrowed his eyes, said something else to his guards and then nodded. “Tomorrow at noon. You will show us. Everything.”

“Yes.”

He nodded again, then turned and marched out of the lab, slamming the door behind him.

Manuel and Sergio looked as shell-shocked as she felt, her knees buckling until she had to lean against the counter just to stay upright. Only Will appeared unaffected. Or was he? His jaw worked back and forth in a slow rhythm that drew her notice to the tension in his muscles.

He was angry.

Had she said the wrong thing? Said something that would hamper their escape?

Stomach rolling and eyes burning, she risked another glance in his direction. He didn't have even a half smile for her, but he leaned his hip on the counter next to her, turning more than a shoulder on the other two men.

After several seconds, during which she thought her lungs might explode, he spoke. “You did good, kid.”

The burning behind her eyes turned into full-blown tears leaking down her face. Those words had been the highest praise they'd shared in high school. When she'd aced an exam. When he'd won the race.
You did good, kid.
It meant he thought she'd done a great job. It meant he was proud of her. It was everything their teenage selves just couldn't find the words to express.

And right now, it meant more than all the other accolades in the world.

Later, when they were alone, she was going to hug him for that. Just for knowing exactly what to say to make her heart smile, even when fear threatened to tear her to shreds.

“We'll work it out in the morning.” Her words weren't as strong as she'd hoped they might be, but she was proud that she'd managed to get anything at all around the lump in her throat.

* * *

The sun had set long before, and Will had been at his post outside Jess's room for more than two hours. Leaning against the outside wall, which was slick with moss and mud, he imagined he could hear the deep breathing of her sleep.