Pearls

by Mills, Lisa

  “Don’t talk now. You’ll make it worse.” She glanced around, frantically searching for a way out of their dilemma.

  “Isabel.”

  “Shhh.”

  “There’s a knife….” He coughed again.

  Her pulse quickened. “Where?”

  “My back pocket. It’s not big, but maybe….”

  With their hands tied together, she could not move her arm without moving his too. She knew his injured shoulder hurt, and any movement on that side of his body would cause him pain. She opted to use the other arm to retrieve the knife.

  “I’ll need you to work with me. Since you’re in pain, let me do most of the hard stuff. I’m going to move away from you if I can, okay? Ready?”

  He grunted and she shifted her hips forward, trying to put some space between their lower backs. He sucked in a sharp breath, and she knew even that small movement had cost him dearly.

  “Sorry,” she muttered. “I think there’s enough room between us now. I’ll do the work, but I need you to slide your hand along with mine as I try to reach the knife.”

  Moving slowly, she flattened her hand and slid it into the gap between them. She felt him making a similar movement, and the tension on the rope binding their hands together eased just enough.

  After a moment of fumbling, she managed to slide the knife from his back pocket. Moving her hands to one side, she studied the Swiss Army knife and selected a blade from the myriad attachments. Fumbling with one hand, she managed to flick the blade out with her thumb, slicing her finger in the process. She struggled for several minutes, trying to maneuver the blade to an angle that would cut through the rope, but doing it all by feel behind her back wasn’t working.

  She blew out a frustrated breath. “I can’t see, and I can’t maneuver the knife in this position.”

  “Keep trying,” Manuel gasped.

  “I’m not giving up, but I need to shift around, try to get my body at an angle to yours so I can see and move my hands a little more.”

  “Then do it.”

  She knew the position would stretch his wounded shoulder and put him in excruciating pain. “Are you sure? Maybe I can think of another way.”

  “No time. Do it.”

  The thought of inflicting pain on him made her feel physically ill. But the alternative—sitting by and doing nothing while he slipped into unconsciousness then death—was unacceptable. She found a reservoir of strength somewhere deep inside.

  “Ready? Go.” Her muscles shook with strain as she fought the resistance of the ropes and Manuel’s limp body. He gasped in pain as she wrestled into a better position so she could see and maneuver a little better.

  Shaking with strain, she sawed through one of the ropes. The pressure on her wrist eased, and she shook her hand until the rope fell free. Shifting, she quickly loosened the bindings and unwound the ropes.

  Once free, Manuel rolled to the ground and curled into a fetal position, favoring his injured shoulder. “Leave me, Isabel. Go for help.” His eyes rolled back in his head and his body went limp.

  Twenty-Four

  Isabel searched the sky, looking for the source of the hum that filled the air. She couldn’t see a plane approaching, but she was certain one was coming in for a landing. Maybe Raúl had grown a conscience and decided not to abandon them. Or maybe it was just the average delivery run or transport flying in. There was no way to be sure without walking the half-mile to the airstrip and checking. She wasn’t sure that was possible.

  Manuel wasn’t doing well at all. She had managed to stop his bleeding and had given him some over-the-counter painkillers from the first aid kit once he woke up. Though conscious, he didn’t have the strength to walk to the airstrip to find help, and she didn’t intend to leave him.

  He sagged against the pile of supplies Isabel had fashioned into a makeshift support. She watched his head droop and worried he might pass out again. “Manuel, are you okay?”

  His eyelids opened with groggy slowness. “I’m tired.”

  She moved closer. “You’re going into shock from losing blood.”

  He nodded. “Probably.”

  “Please, fight it, Manuel. I can’t lose you. I love you.”

  His eyes were instantly alert. “Saving that information for a special occasion, were you?”

  She smiled through her tears. “Just too stubborn to admit it before, and too foolish. I’m sorry I didn’t trust you. I should have known you’d never hurt me. You’ve risked your life several times to save me.”

  “S’okay. Even I thought I looked suspicious.”

  “Somehow I should have known. I should have listened to my heart.”

  He shook his head. “You’re listening now. I love you, Isabel. I have for months. Since you’re feeling guilty and sympathetic, I’m thinking this might be a good time to ask you to marry me.”

  If she hadn’t been kneeling, she would have fallen over from shock. “Are you serious?”

  “I’ve been a fool, too. I was too proud to consider marrying you because of my financial problems. Now I realize the feelings I have for you are precious, more than money or anything else. If you’ll have me, Isabel, I want you for my wife.”

  She leaned over, gave him a long, deep kiss, and found his wounds hadn’t hindered his ability to use his lips. “Swear you won’t die, and my answer is yes.”

  His eyes twinkled. “I wouldn’t dream of leaving you now.”

  Isabel laid a hand on his forehead. “You’re cold. I know I should keep you warm, but what else? Aren’t you supposed to prop your feet up or something?”

  He smiled. “I don’t know, but it’s worth a try.”

  “I’ll help you.” She jumped up. “I’ll get blankets from your bedroll.”

  Isabel helped him change positions then ran to his tent. As she emerged, arms full of bedding, the rumble of a vehicle’s engine neared their location.

  “Maybe this is someone who can help us.” She tucked the blanket around him and arranged the pillow beneath his head. She rushed to the side of the dirt road and waved her arms at the fast-approaching vehicle. The rusted truck skidded to a stop, spraying dirt and gravel.

  Waving away the cloud of dust, Isabel ran toward the vehicle. “Thank you for stopping. My friend is hurt and he needs—”

  Her plea froze on her lips as the man stepping out of the passenger door turned to face her.

  Him.

  The man from the police photos. The other doors opened and rough-looking men spilled out, waving guns and shouting. Isabel backed slowly toward Manuel, the thought of protecting him taking prominence in her mind.

  The man she recognized leered at her, his eyes dark and cold. “Hello, Isabel. It’s good to see you again. You look healthy considering all you’ve been through; the swim in the well, a rockslide, that unfortunate incident with your boat, and a poisonous snake. You could have been hurt.” He laughed, a cruel, heartless sound.

  She knelt by Manuel and took his hand, drawing comfort and courage from the touch. “Who are you? And why have you been following me?”

  “We’re business associates of Raúl’s. He owes us some money, and we’re here to collect.”

  “Sorry, you missed him. His plane flew out about an hour ago.”

  “Yes, we figured that.” He glanced at Manuel. “Pity your friend was hurt.”

  “Look, I don’t know where Raúl went, but being the resourceful person you obviously are, I’m sure you can find him. I’d love to stay and chat, but I need to get my friend to a doctor.” She grabbed up a few loose items and pretended to pack their gear, hoping they would pursue Raúl and leave her and Manuel to fend for themselves. They’d be safer that way.

  A gun jabbed into her back.

  “Not so fast, little lady. What I need, I can get from you.”

  She waved a hand toward the camp. “Take whatever you want.”

  “I want you. You’re going to lead me to the treasure.”

  Isabel swallowed hard. They
knew more than she suspected, but how much? She decided to force their hand. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Of course you do. The pearls your ancestor hid—we want them. Raúl was kind enough to tip us off about your project, and we’ve decided to take our share—all of it.” He laughed at her angry scowl.

  The idea of cooperating with these men galled her, but to resist would be dangerous. Maybe she could strike a bargain with them, make a trade for Manuel’s sake. “I’ll give you the location of the pearls after you take my friend and I to a medical facility.”

  “But if I set you free, you won’t have any reason to cooperate. Keeping you with me is my insurance policy.”

  “Take me. Let her go.” Manuel’s weak voice interrupted their argument.

  Isabel swung around and flashed Manuel a warning look. “I appreciate your gallantry, Manuel, but you’ve saved my life enough times on this trip. I owe you one. Besides, you’re in no condition to lead an expedition.”

  “Isabel ….”

  “Don’t argue, Manuel. Save your energy.”

  He growled and tried to rise, but the pain stopped him. Isabel could see his agony at not being able to protect her, but she couldn’t afford to hide behind his strength this time. She turned back to her captor. “I’ll draw you a map, give you the best directions I can. In exchange you drop us at a hospital or clinic.”

  “No deal. Men, put these two in our vehicle then check the camp. Take anything of value.”

  Two men descended on Isabel and dragged her to the truck. She glanced over her shoulder and saw them yank Manuel from the ground. They showed no concern for his injured shoulder, jerking him around as they escorted him to his new transportation. He grimaced with pain, and Isabel wondered if his wounds would tear open and bleed again. One thing was certain. His body wouldn’t endure much more abuse. He needed help—fast.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Isabel stayed awake as long as she could, monitoring Manuel’s pulse rate and breathing. But as the adrenaline wore off, she found herself fighting heavy eyelids. The thugs had transported them to the small airstrip and boarded a waiting plane. She sat in a small cargo area with Manuel spread out beside her.

  The hum of the engines lulled her, and she succumbed to sleep. Her nap brought fitful dreams, and she awakened at sunset covered in sweat. Manuel’s forehead glistened with perspiration from the fever that had settled over his body. His breathing had grown labored, and she couldn’t wake him.

  “He needs medical attention. Antibiotics.” She pleaded with the one who appeared to be the ringleader. “Please, help him.”

  He stared at her for a moment, his face reflecting disinterest. “We’re almost there.”

  “Where is ‘there’? Does this location have a medical facility?”

  He shrugged, offering no more information.

  “If you let him die, I won’t help you.” She heard the desperation in her voice, and hated feeling so powerless.

  He turned away and ignored her, obviously unconcerned by her threat.

  Isabel wanted to throw herself at him, to dig her fingernails into his dispassionate face until he agreed to give Manuel the help he needed. But afraid she’d only make the situation worse, she distracted herself with making Manuel more comfortable. She could do little for him, but she felt better just sitting near him. She smoothed a hand across his fevered brow and ran her fingers lightly over his hair. He jerked and twitched in his sleep, as if a battle raged behind his closed eyelids.

  Ten minutes later, the plane circled and descended over a crude landing strip in the middle of heavy woods. Isabel pressed her face to the window, praying help was near.

  As soon as they stepped off the little plane, an SUV appeared and transported them down a long drive leading to a small complex of buildings. A stately air surrounded the largest one, a white stucco hacienda with iron-railed balconies on the second floor. The others were less elegant and seemed more suited for work. The vehicle stopped in front of a small shack, and the men piled out. Isabel’s captors pulled her from the truck and shoved her toward a rickety door covered in peeling white paint.

  Unable to walk, or even awaken, Manuel was dragged along behind her. Her captor shoved her through the doorway. By the dingy light of a bare light bulb, Isabel saw an iron-framed bed sitting in one corner of the shack. The only other furniture was a table and chair whose scarred surfaces showed years of mistreatment. Bars covered the windows, but the opening let in a cool breeze along with the moonlight.

  The men heaved Manuel onto the bed, unconcerned with his injuries.

  “Be careful. He’ll start bleeding again.” Isabel rushed to his side and rolled him onto his back. As she arranged his arm across his chest to alleviate pressure from his shoulder, the door slammed behind her. The click of a turning lock punctuated her panic. She scrambled to her feet and yanked at the doorknob. Though it rattled and shook, the frail-looking door proved a surprisingly effective barrier. Obviously, their captors had used the shack as a prison before.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  She returned to the bed and sat at Manuel’s side, praying help would come. Minutes dragged by. Feelings of guilt increased with each labored breath Manuel dragged into his lungs. Her bad decisions and lack of discernment had caused his suffering. If only she’d seen Raúl’s true nature earlier. She could have cut off contact with him completely rather than continuing to do business with him. She’d arrogantly assumed she could control the situation. Now Manuel was paying for her bad judgment.

  Noise at the door drew her from her regrets, and she stood to face the visitor. An older man let himself in and closed the door behind him. He didn’t even glance at the bed as he walked to the shoddy table in the corner and plunked down a medical bag. A bottle and syringe emerged, and he drew up a dosage of the medicine.

  “What is that?” Isabel moved between Manuel and the man, shielding Manuel until she had some answers.

  He gave her an irritated look. “Is antibiotics. He has fever, no?”

  “Are you a doctor?”

  “I give medical service to people on complex.”

  “Where are we? Are we near a city?”

  The man shook his head and pushed past her. “No more talking.” He shoved Manuel’s sleeve up to his shoulder and jabbed the needle into his bicep. After tossing the empty syringe into his bag, he started to leave.

  “Where are you going? His bandages need to be changed.” Isabel couldn’t believe they would offer so little help. Manuel needed a hospital and a trained medical staff, not some quack on the payroll of an organized crime ring.

  The man hesitated at the door.

  “Please,” she begged.

  He opened his bag and removed a roll of gauze and a bottle of peroxide. “Here, you do.”

  She took the supplies he offered and watched him leave, despair overtaking her. God, where are you?

  As she unwrapped Manuel’s dressings, she noticed he’d stopped sweating despite his high fever. Neither of them had drunk anything at all that day, and with Manuel’s blood loss, he needed water more than ever, but a quick glance around told her there was nothing to drink in the room. The best she could do was care for his wound.

  She carefully peeled away his bloody bandages and poured peroxide on the wound. He didn’t move as she cleaned the bullet hole with a pad of clean gauze and applied new dressings.

  When she’d done all she could for him, she paced the room, pausing at the window to study her surroundings. Occasionally, she spied other people on the grounds, but no one paid her any attention. After an hour, her legs grew weary, and she perched on a corner of the mattress near Manuel’s feet.

  She lost track of time as she stared at the dirty wall, considering her situation and grasping for a plausible solution. The door rattled, and a timid girl entered, shadowed by a man with a gun. She scurried to the table and set down a tray of food.

  “Thank you, miss.” Isabel tried to catch the girl’s eye, but the young wo
man hurried out the door as if afraid of punishment if she lingered.

  Alone again, Isabel rushed to see what the girl had delivered. The pitcher of water snagged her attention. She poured a glass and snatched up a spoon. Returning to Manuel’s side, she dribbled a few drops of water onto his parted lips and was pleased to see him swallow. Encouraged, she offered him one spoonful at a time until he’d consumed half a glass. Satisfied with the small accomplishment, she quickly ate some of the food and took care of her own needs.

  Night deepened, and the lights in other windows around the complex went out. Isabel’s energy waned and her eyelids grew heavy. Fighting sleep, she spooned more water into Manuel’s mouth until she’d emptied the cup. Exhausted emotionally and physically, fatigue pressed into her until she couldn’t fight it anymore. After turning off the light, she sat on the floor beside Manuel’s bed and laid her head against the mattress. When he moaned and started to toss, Isabel stretched a hand across his chest. Her touch calmed him, and he quieted. Isabel sat in her protective stance and listened to the steady rhythm of his breathing until she, too, drifted off to sleep.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  “Isabel.” Manuel rasped her name from a dry throat and parched lips. Faint light glowed in the window and birds chirped a happy song, leading him to believe dawn had arrived. He felt guilty for having slept in the bed while she reclined on the floor beside him, her hand draped across his chest. After a second look he realized the ripped and stained mattress wasn’t an accommodation she would covet.

  He tested his uninjured arm and found he could move it without causing too much pain. He slid his hand to his chest and folded it over her fingers. “Isabel.”

  She lifted her head and blinked a few times, as if trying to focus. Her gaze drifted to his face, and she summoned a sleepy smile. “You’re awake.”

  “You sound surprised.”

  “I am. You were in bad shape last night.” She moved her free hand to his forehead. “The fever broke.”

  She smoothed his hair back from his brow, and he relaxed under the comforting touch. “I still feel terrible.”

  “Trust me, terrible is an improvement. I thought you were going to die last night. You’d lost too much blood, and your fever spiked so high. I guess the shot of antibiotics helped.”