Cold, bitter, hard...okay, stop it! Her shoulders automatically slumped as the familiar feelings of dejection traveled through her veins and reached every part of her body. How long had she been this way? Ever since…
When her eyes spotted the snow-white headscarf, her downturned mouth curved upward and continued until the inside of her mouth tasted air. The scarf was as soft and flowing as the dress. After twisting her curls into a messy bun, Mel wrapped the scarf around her head, but kept the fabric loose around her nose and mouth. The wind outside had picked up in the last hour and with it was probably the sand.
Surprisingly, Abdul returned her knife; after she retrieved it from the bag, she slipped the sheathed blade in the only accessible place — right behind the front of her dress beneath her bra strap. She paused at the entrance of the tent and listened for sounds of either Ric or Hakeem’s arrival, which would derail her plans. Hakeem would run straight to Ric, and if Ric was on the other side of the tent flap, he’d probably tie her to a chair to keep her from leaving.
It’s not as if she didn’t want to give Ric a chance to find her badge. The thought of relying on this man for something important to her was a foreign concept — forgetting that she could already trust him with her life. Well, life was one thing but something that involved her emotions? Her job kept her grounded and focused and was one of only a few steady pillars in her life. Rocking her world would likely put a crack in the protective barrier she’d erected around her heart and this time the damage would be permanent.
Except the crack was already there. And it wasn’t just a crack: it was a canyon. His kiss yesterday had curled her toes, turned her inside out, and ruptured a cyst of fear long growing on her heart. But old habits were hard to break.
Hakeem had arrived, just as Ric said he would, but left shortly thereafter in the company of a few men. He didn’t look as if he had a choice and judging by the grave expression on his face, it was either go with them or suffer some consequence he couldn’t afford. He’d been gone for about half an hour. My window is closing fast. If Ric and Hakeem were involved in what she thought they were — stopping terrorism — then her badge in the possession of a man like Abdul could possibly be detrimental to their operation.
Mel slid past the flap and was nearly blown over by the force of the wind. Her eyes stung from the sand and she wiped furiously at them to clear the invading grit. What am I even doing? Where would she begin? She had no clue where Abdul’s tent was, let alone if he’d even keep the badge there.
Mel, turn back. Let Ric do his job.
And yet, her feet surged forward. She was used to handling her problems alone. Ever since her grandmother had passed away a few years back, she had no one she could truly count on. At work, Ale proved to be someone she could let in past her barrier, until he moved away to marry Audrey Hughes. Outside of work, she had very few friends and none of them knew what had happened to her in college. The weaker the emotional connection between them, the safer she felt.
She hadn’t let a man kiss her in years. She managed to go on a few dates after college, at her grandmother’s insistence, but every time she the man would lean in for the kiss, she nearly gagged in her mouth.
Until Ric.
He was different from any other man, and somehow, she’d known it from the moment they’d met. Not because he saved her life, but because…
She wasn’t a romantic. Love at first sight was nonsense; chemistry was nothing more than biology, and that couldn’t be trusted. And all men — well, most — were ruled by a lower extremity that was a weapon more dangerous than the Glock 22 she carried while on duty. Why was he so eager to trust her, and her him? Yes, they were the only Americans out here in the middle of the desert, and yes, they faced a powerful yet masked enemy, but did he have to lay it on so thick so soon? The story about his childhood, the kissing… Was it hot, or was Ric once again causing her to blush?
I’ve got to get some control over that. She hadn’t been this flushed since she met DeShawn.
DeShawn. Her high school boyfriend, whom she followed to college, convinced they’d break up if she didn’t. Well, they did. He’d wanted her more than she was willing to offer and when his anger over her reluctance had reached its boiling point, she had paid a high price. And it was painful. Perhaps even more disappointing was how college life had changed the funny, sweet boy she grew up with into a sharp, aggressive man who favored partying, drinking, and endless sexual partners to the family and friends he shamefully ignored. Once her eyes were finally opened to the man she had refused to acknowledge existed, it was too late. Her heart had shattered into a million pieces and love became an emotion she could do without.
It wasn’t just DeShawn. Many of the men in the lives of her family members and friends from her neighborhood had, in one way or another, broken faith and vows to the women they claimed to love. Watching her cousins, aunts, and friends shed tears over men who weren’t worth their grief had calcified Mel’s heart many times over. Life was trying enough without having to self-inflict wounds by offering mind, heart, body, and soul to men who couldn’t recognize the value of the women they professed to cherish and protect. In their exodus were bitter hearts and diseases they’d left behind for their women to endure alone, as well as broken homes after they walked out the door.
Broken homes…
Ric was a product of a broken home. According to his new sister-in-law Audrey, Ric and his brothers owned the hallways of their high school — and the nerds and the cheerleaders. The Santiago brothers commanded just as much attention back then as they did now as upstanding law enforcement officers and an agent of the United States government.
Unbelievable.
Mel halted her progress and squinted through the cloud of sand. A group of men was heading in her direction, but the short one in front stood out. He carried himself as a man of some importance with his head held high, despite the wind, and the men with him were careful to be one step behind the tiny leader. It was Abdul; she was sure. Mel moved to the side of the nearest tent, out of view from the men, and peered around the corner to watch their progress. She held her tongue, although the tent bucked and slapped the side of her face a few times. Just one of the hazards of surveillance she’d gladly endure if it gleaned information about her badge.
The men ducked into a nearby tent and Mel couldn’t believe her luck. She hadn’t walked far from Ric’s tent and with absolutely zero clues to go on, she’d discovered what she hoped was Abdul’s tent. The wind had noticeably died down, to her relief, because she didn’t have a compass either and if she had to find her way back to Ric’s in a dust cloud, she’d be lost for sure. Mel sprinted — rather plopped — through the thick sand to the side of her target’s tent. After she made her way around to the back, she dropped to her knees and nestled, as close as she dared, against one of the tent corners. Now, I wait.
****
Ric squelched the feelings of betrayal and instead concentrated on the positive. His meeting with Rafiq yielded substantial information. Abdul was the man behind financing the movement of weapons from Somalia. Unfortunately, this business arrangement was discussed in private meetings between Abdul and Hassan. Hassan is lying to me. Disappointment turned into anger at the deception. If there were ever a problem, why didn’t Hassan come to him? Or was it his plan all along to befriend an agent of the United States government in an effort to hide his own connections to terrorism? I must be an idiot.
At least the wind’s died. Ric loosened the cloth around his mouth so he could better breathe in the stifling heat of the afternoon sun. Sandstorms were the worst. Months ago, he was almost caught in one, if not for the cave he’d found moments before the full force of the wind had overcome him. When it was all over, the entrance was half covered and he had to dig through four feet of sand. And if the cave wasn’t on a downward slope, he’d have never made it out. Each drag of the sand would have just filled his tiny hole. There was never a solo mission to the desert he didn’t hate
.
Except this one.
Life was full of interesting and beautiful surprises. Marriage had crossed his mind perhaps once in the last ten years but given his love of the mission, he never allowed the expectation to take root. Now, a couple of days after meeting Mel — and Hakeem’s incessant prodding — he had to admit the idea of matrimony wasn’t as undesirable as he first believed. The prospect of a relationship with a woman was something he considered late at night when the stirring of Mel beside him distracted his mind after he exhausted all scenarios of how the attack would occur. He knew very little of the marshal, but in time he expected to wear down her fortified defenses and defrost the chill of her demeanor. Finding her badge would be a good start.
Ric grimaced. Abdul was a dangerous man, as evident by his kidnapping of Mel. His influence over the sheik was long-standing and he commanded many men — or at least they all acted like his soldiers. The man was never alone for very long and Ric didn’t want an audience when it came time to question him about Mel.
And knock him out.
Revenge wasn’t something that ever interested him. When situations in life went wrong, he usually blamed himself. After all, his father hadn’t wanted another child and then he was born. His mother never blamed him for his father’s behavior, but he’d lived with a child’s guilt for years. Even as an adult, a part of him still believed the breakdown of his family was his fault, regardless of whether it made sense or not. His father rejected him and that was the truth. And his mother? She never fought back.
The last seventy-two hours or so had changed his perspective considerably. Some situations were beyond his control and Mel’s presence was proof. If Mel’s badge was still in Abdul’s possession, he’d have no problem punching a few teeth to the back of Abdul’s throat. Payment for his treatment of Mel.
It was obvious from her almost confession earlier that men hadn’t treated her well her entire life. The words she refused to utter were nevertheless heard in her silence. She’d been raped by a man she had believed she could trust, and now her confidence in men had shattered. Ric wanted to knock the guy out. Whoever he was. His attack had forever warped Mel’s assurance that trust in someone was possible. Luckily, the man’s actions hadn’t completely derailed Ric’s efforts at establishing a bond between himself and Mel. Her trust in him was necessary if she were to follow his lead and stay out of trouble.
“Ric! Ric!”
Hakeem came stumbling toward Ric from the direction of Ric’s tent. His voice sounded agitated and instantly Ric’s heart rate elevated. He surged forward. He gripped the arms of Hakeem, who nearly collapsed when they connected. Ric became impatient. “What is it?”
Between his heavy breathing and a few coughs, Hakeem managed to spit it out. “Ms. Lewis. She’s gone.”
****
The blazing sun hadn’t moved from its lofty spot in the sky, and Mel didn’t have a clue what time it was or how long she’d been crouched next to Abdul’s tent, hoping the sounds of conversation and laughter would cease. All she needed was a small window of opportunity and she could sneak in, snoop, and duck out undetected. Instead, despite her morning shower, whenever she moved, sand scratched and scraped in what felt like every nook and cranny. Her toes, her teeth… It was everywhere.
She nearly cried out as something warm and hard bumped the back of her head. She rotated swiftly to see a rogue camel grinning at her—or at least it appeared to be smiling. Its lips were parted and a long, pink tongue flicked at thick, yellow teeth. It ducked its head and nudged her again. “Would you cut it out?” she whispered. “Shoo!” She waved her hands at the beast and immediately regretted causing the air around her to swirl. The stench from the camel was so overwhelming she nearly gagged. The camel snorted and continued its perusal of her. Mel rolled her eyes.
Mel strained her ears as the camel amused itself and tapped her incessantly. The sounds of men laughing and lips smacking had ceased. Only the gentle rustling of the wind — so strangely calm after the light sandstorm — echoed against her eardrums. Her senses heightened as her heartbeat quickened. This was the moment and she found her muscles tense from being in such a constricted position for so long. She swallowed a cry over the momentary strain of her muscles as she stretched to full height. Mel inched around the side of the tent. Her eyes darted around to detect anyone who could identify her.
The tent entrance was secured at the bottom with a silver metallic fastener. She tugged at what appeared to be a powerful magnet. Mel managed to loosen the fastener and before she could be spotted, she slipped inside. She paused in the small entryway, the remainder of the tent blocked from her vision by another flap.
Mel inhaled deeply of the spicy scent in the tent and proceeded cautiously. The furnishings were the first to catch her eye and cause her to take a step back. Abdul, who held her captive for — how many days? — lived in a luxurious style she wouldn’t have pictured the stern man dressed in all black would prefer. Large burgundy rugs and gold-plated chairs surrounded a rich mahogany table topped with some of the finest dishes and silverware she’d ever seen. And the candlesticks… She was sure they were crystal. After all, with everything else so rich, it’d be laughable if they were glass.
Mel focused on the task. Glancing around, she spotted a bookcase and a tall, five-drawer dresser. She surged toward the dresser. She yanked the top drawer open and with both hands, she moved clothes and other belongings aside. Her eyes hoped to spot a glimmer of shine from a silver star, the symbol of the US Marshals. She worked systematically, and moved on to the bookcase after she completed her search of the dresser. When the bookcase yielded nothing, she rapidly searched the tent for other possible locations.
Making her way deeper into the tent, she came upon the sleeping area. The bedding was equally elegant, with embroidered pillows and linens with a high thread count, no doubt.
A bellowing laugh had her frozen in place. Someone was in the tent. Mel glanced frantically for a way of escape but there was no additional entryway. Her eyes fell to the bottom of the tent. I… I have to dig my way out.
The thought was incredulous, but if she didn’t move now, she’d be caught, and Abdul would never allow her to leave this tent alive. She snatched the knife from her bra and sprinted for the bottom of the tent in the farthest corner. Her foot caught on the thick rug and she fell hard on her chest. The knife flew out of her hands. Whatever she tripped over was hard, not the soft rug she was now plastered on. She glanced back at her foot and narrowed her eyes on the slight bulge underneath the rug.
No time!
She scrambled, plucked her knife from the floor a couple of feet away, and stabbed it through the tent. Rapidly she slashed through the thick, rough fabric. The noises of the men’s voices grew louder and louder with each frightened thud of her runaway heart. She pulled at the tent and then placed a foot in the small opening. She used her weight to leverage the bottom of the tent and grabbed the top of the torn area and tugged hard. Barely a fiber was torn at her attempt to create a larger hole, but the whole side wafted and she wondered whether it would ripple to other sections of the tent.
Then silence.
The voices abruptly died — not faded away as if they’d exited the tent from the front end. It was now or never. She abandoned her feeble attempt to muscle the hole wider. She dropped to her knees and dove through the small opening. A sharp bark of a voice was behind her. She whimpered, braced her arms deep in the sand and pulled with all her might.
She nearly screamed when rough hands tightly gripped her ankles and yanked her back into the tent. This was it. Abdul had caught her snooping in his tent. Her badge was still missing and now her body would be as well. What would Ric think?
Ricardo!
Everything was a complete mess and it was entirely her fault. If she’d only given the man a chance to come through for her, but she couldn’t she risk it What if he did find her badge? What would it mean to her? He had already begun to work some sort of…something on he
r heart. If he could prove what little faith she allowed herself to have in him, she’d be thoroughly undone — and that terrified her.
Because one man undoing her was enough to last a lifetime.
She opened her mouth to scream but a large hand suffocated the sound beneath her scarf. Her eyes blinked up at the men whose sweaty palms pinned her arms and legs to the floor. She stared into the two faces of the men and neither were Abdul.
She fought.
She wrestled a leg free, drew her knee as close to her chest as possible, and jammed her foot into the kneecap of the man on her left. He wailed in pain and clutched his knee as he fell to the floor.
“Abdul?”
Ric! Was that his voice? She gripped the arm of the second man — who held a knife to her throat.
A hooded man entered the sleeping area and rushed toward them. The deep amber eyes beneath thick dark lashes were as familiar to her as her own black eyes. A muscled arm constricted around the neck of the man holding the knife and inch by inch, the blade retreated and she was able to roll away. Ric rotated the man around and kneed him in the face. His head snapped back and he landed on the floor with a thud. Not forgetting the man with the bum knee, she landed a swift punch to his left jaw. It whipped around and he landed face first into the beautiful amethyst-colored rug beneath them. He was out cold.
“What are you doing here?”
Mel ignored the hiss of his voice. “You want to discuss that now? We have to get out of here before Abdul gets back!” She dove toward her escape hole and began to worm her way through.
“Really? This was your egress route?”
She broke her concentration to roll her eyes. She successfully cleared the hole — with a little push in the bum by Ric — she watched as he knifed the tent with a bit more fluidity than her attempt. Of course, his muscled physique needed a much larger hole. He poked his head through and she gripped him beneath his arms and pulled him out.
Ricardo (The Santiago Brothers Book Three) Page 10
