The tractor vehicle that everyone focused on made its way through the mud and around the water-filled craters. Beast might not have a great love for the rainforest, but the Martinez crew had stomped all over it and ground it into dirt under their boots. Beast suspected they enjoyed treating the people around them exactly the same way. He’d seen the looks on their faces once too often in his life—the brothers enjoyed watching other people suffer.
Behind the tractor, there was a large, sealed trailer, with several doors and hatches on it, for people to open and access whatever was stored inside. As it came closer, the trailer turned, and Beast saw the back of it. He stilled. He knew exactly what was attached to it. It was a satellite uplink dish. The kind he’d seen time and again on the boardwalk of Atlantic City. The kind used by TV stations when they were reporting live.
Beast’s eyes shot to the Martinez brothers, who oozed glee as they stared at the truck. And Beast knew. He knew they planned to make an example of their recaptured kidnap victims.
And they were going to do it on air.
“This is going to go fast,” he told Belinda. Because there was no way he could wait for a better time. There was no way he could take the chance that they’d brutalise Belinda while they broadcast it around the world. “Be ready. I don’t care how you do it but get to cover.”
“Stop talking,” the guard ordered him.
“She’s out cold,” Beast said in Spanish. “It isn’t like she can hear me.”
The conversation attracted the attention of the brothers, who prowled towards them. They had identical looks on their faces—evil anticipation.
“Wake her up,” Diego ordered the guard.
The asshole took great pleasure in unscrewing the cap off a water bottle and dousing Belinda. She jerked up, sputtering as though she’d been forced awake.
“It’s time,” Angel said. “Señorita Collins is going to put on one last performance for us, and then this will all be over.”
“You’re going to return us to our families?” Belinda asked. She sounded both scared and hopeful.
Beast knew it was an act. She knew the Martinez brothers had no intention of handing them over to anyone.
“But of course,” Martinez said with a smile that was dead. “You are worth ten million dollars to me.” He paused and arched an eyebrow at Beast. “Each.”
It was clear he knew Beast wasn’t some big-shot director, and it amused him. The Martinez brothers’ amusement was the least of Beast’s concerns. His eyes kept returning to the men unloading the trailer. They pulled out camera equipment and started to set it up in front of him and Belinda.
“What are you doing?” Belinda said. “Why is there a camera?”
She sounded confused now, and Beast knew it wasn’t an act. Her fever was raging. He could feel the heat coming off her skin as their arms pressed together.
“I’m going to film you,” Angel said. “You like being filmed, don’t you, Señorita Collins?”
Belinda started to shake. She looked up at Beast. “What?” Her eyes were glassy and unfocused.
“Come here!” Angel snapped at Belinda.
Her head lolled towards her captor and she frowned as she tried to focus. Beast wasn’t going to let that happen. No matter what. Belinda wasn’t getting anywhere near the brothers.
“Now,” Beast roared as he shot to his feet.
He launched himself at Angel without a backwards glance at Belinda. All he could do was trust that she followed his instructions.
And that, no matter what, she stayed alive.
“Move in now!” Grunt bellowed over the comm.
Ryan jumped as the sound blasted through him.
“Report,” Lake snapped.
“Beast launched an attack on the Martinez brothers,” Noah said in a rush.
A gunshot rang out, making birds take flight over the forest.
“Use full force,” Lake said. “Get in there. Get the job done. Ryan? Callum?”
“Taking position now,” Ryan said as he started the boat.
The team were past the stealth stage. Now the boats would get as close as they could to the mine to pull their people out as fast as possible.
“Ryan?” Elle sounded hysterical, which wasn’t like her. “Ryan, are you there?”
He reached for the satphone and pressed the speech button. “I’m here.”
“The Martinez unit is broadcasting. They’ve hacked a local news network.”
“Belinda? Beast?” Ryan manoeuvred the boat around a tree growing on the edge of the river.
“Beast,” she said. “Beast is fighting one of the brothers. I can’t see Belinda. Someone is saying something. Damn it, I can’t speak Spanish. Does anyone here speak Spanish?”
“I can!” There was the sound of movement as Ryan skimmed over the water.
On the bank opposite the mine sat half a dozen caiman, relaxing in the sun. They lifted their heads and stared at him as he passed.
Kirsty’s voice came on the line. Ryan knew she’d spent a lot of time in Spain during her modelling years. It made sense she could speak the language. “Someone at the mine is narrating the fight,” she said. “They’re telling us that the Martinez cartel are to be feared and they deal ruthlessly with those who oppose them.” She paused. “That would be fine and dandy if it didn’t look like the Martinez guy was getting the crap kicked out of him by Beast.”
“Two down,” Lake said in Ryan’s ear.
“One down,” Dimitri said. “Harvard, watch your six.”
“Got it,” Harvard said calmly.
“Oh no,” Kirsty said. “The guy just told everyone that two hostages had dared to escape the Martinez cartel. They’ve hunted them down and are going to show the world what happens to anyone who goes up against the cartel. He says that after their boss is done teaching Beast a lesson, he’s going to make Belinda Collins scream on TV.”
Ryan let out a stream of curses as gunshots rent the air.
“They know we’re here,” Dimitri said.
“Who has eyes on Belinda?” Lake said.
There was silence.
“Grunt. Get to Belinda,” Lake said. “You’re the closest. Noah, take out any threat to Beast.”
“Roger that,” Noah said.
“The rest of you,” Lake said, “mow them down.”
There was a pause, as though the world took a breath, and then an explosion rocked the forest.
“That would be one of their boats,” Callum said with satisfaction. “I’m taking out the rest.”
“I’m coming in to help,” Ryan said.
“Don’t get in my way, son. I’m in a killing mood.”
Ryan smiled as Elle’s voice came over the phone. “The press camped out outside the resort have heard the news about Belinda. A couple of teams are rushing to their choppers. They’re heading your way.”
“Got it,” he told Elle before speaking to his team. “Be aware. Beast’s fight is being televised. Reporters are on their way.”
“Roger that,” Lake said. “You heard him. First man to take out the broadcast unit wins a bottle of Scotland’s finest.”
“Or woman,” said Megan.
“Or woman,” Lake said. “Now let’s get this done.”
Belinda was moving in a fog. But she was moving. As soon as John jumped up and launched himself at their kidnappers, Belinda got to her feet and half limped, half ran to the edge of the gaping hole behind them. Everyone’s attention was firmly focused on John. No one had been watching her.
She threw herself over the edge of the muddy crater, sliding down the steeply sloped side and straight into the water. It was deeper than she’d thought it would be, and she kicked hard, fighting with what little strength she had left, to keep her head above water.
Above her, it sounded like the world was ending. Gunshots blasted. Something exploded. Men shouted. Someone screamed. She was suddenly in the middle of a war zone. Her heart thumped hard and fast as she panted for breath. The water
was cooler than the humid air and helped clear her head some. It helped her get past the stabbing pain in her side and the continuous throb of her knee. In a moment of clarity, she remembered John telling her to run for the trees. An impossibility if she couldn’t climb out of the bowl full of muddy water. The sides were steep and muddy, and she was certain her knee wouldn’t hold up in an attempt to climb them.
She trod water, in a circle, looking for a way out, and spotted one. There was a ladder lying against one of the slopes. It was made of bamboo tied together with rope. But it would do. Fighting through the pain thudding in her head, she forced herself to swim towards the ladder. Each stroke was agony. The cut in her side ripped open, letting dirty water in, and her leg felt like it was a lead weight attached to her body. She panted, struggling to stay afloat and make it to her destination. Above her, the gunfire continued. Was John alive? Had he been shot? She shook her head, instantly regretting it when her vision blurred. He had to be alive. There was no other option.
An eternity passed, but she reached the ladder. Exhaustion almost dragged her under the water as she clung to the side of the hole. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something slip into the water. She stilled, fear making her heart beat loudly in her ears. The water rippled. Something was coming for her. And it was getting closer. With a sob, Belinda summoned all the strength left in her. She struggled to pull herself out of the water, clawing at the dirt, huffing out moans of desperation when it came away in her hands.
The ripple on the water was getting closer, heading straight for her. With one last desperate push, she managed to haul herself up onto the muddy slope. She held on to the ladder as she snatched her feet from the water—just as something long and dark slid past them. Belinda didn’t know what it was, but it circled around for a second attack.
Muffling her moans of pain, she pulled herself up the rickety ladder. Even the smallest pressure on her knee sent shards of pain throughout her body. Running for the treeline was going to take a miracle, because Belinda was sure she wouldn’t even be able to stand. She made it up two rungs before she heard a splash. She looked down in time to see a large snake disappear back into the water. Shaking, she pulled herself up another rung. And then another. In her mind, the ladder seemed to get longer with each rung she conquered. Her body was leaden, her head disoriented. Spots danced before her, and she feared she would lose consciousness again.
No, not now!
Visions of sliding back into the hole to become food for the snake assaulted her. She shook them out of her head and lost her grip on the ladder. She frantically grasped for a rung and pressed herself against the ladder when she caught hold of it. Another explosion rocked the ground beneath her, making the ladder slide down the slope towards the water. Belinda bit her lip hard to stop herself from screaming. She clung to the top rung as the ladder stopped its slide. Belinda forced her eyes open to see how far she’d slipped. Not too far, but the rim was further away than it had been before the explosion. She attempted to wipe tears from her eyes and only succeeded in clogging them with mud. She could still make it over—if her leg held.
Angry men shouted above her. But none of them were John.
Please, please, please, please, please…
She prayed, silently begging God to save John.
To save the man she’d fallen in love with.
The man who was sacrificing himself to save her.
Please.
She put her hand on the rim of the crater. There was nothing close to hold on to. All she could do was press her palm flat and use it for balance as she climbed up to stand on the top rung. Her body lay flat against the steep slope as she took each step up to the top. Slowly, her head breached the edge of the pit, and she gasped. The mine was on fire.
The hut she’d sat against with John was ablaze. The two vehicles in the clearing were destroyed, and bits of metal lay scattered on the red, muddy earth. Men ran frantically, firing shots at an enemy Belinda couldn’t see. Not two feet from her, lay the dead body of the guard who’d been watching over them. His head was turned towards her, and his blank eyes stared straight at her, while his spilled blood soaked into the red clay.
Belinda felt bile rise at the sight and squeezed her eyes tightly closed. The action made her sway with dizziness, and she forced them open again. She deliberately kept her gaze from the body as she searched the clearing for John. There was no sign of him.
A shout snagged her attention. The sound of flesh hitting flesh grew loud. Two men barrelled into the clearing. They were covered in mud and blood.
And one of them was John.
Chapter 32
“Now,” Beast roared at Belinda before he launched himself at Martinez.
He had only two thoughts in his head: kill the brothers, save Belinda. He hit the man in front of him, one punch to his jaw, another to his stomach. Angel kicked out, hitting Beast in the knee, and making him slip in the mud. Instead of getting back to his feet, he used his position to tackle Martinez. He grabbed him around the waist and pummelled his kidneys until he was certain the guy would piss nothing but blood if he survived this fight.
Something hard struck Beast’s back and sent him to his knees, forcing him to release Martinez. Beast glanced behind him to find the other brother wielding a length of wood. Movement brought his head back around, just in time to see Angel kick at his head. Beast ducked, rolled and punched at the guy’s crotch. Angel howled and toppled.
Diego roared and rushed him. Beast rolled out of his way, in time to avoid the plank aimed at his head, but not fast enough to miss the kick to his ribs. He felt a crack and knew they were broken.
Angel struggled to his feet, and Diego rushed Beast again. There was a blast, sending all three men flying. Beast landed hard on the edge of the crater he’d told Belinda to hide in. He shook his head, fighting against the ringing in his ears and the disorientation that overwhelmed him. He had to get up, had to be ready. Glancing into the pit, he saw Belinda reach for the ladder leaning against the steep muddy side.
Good.
He had to fight the urge to rush to her aid. Fear for her was a taste in his mouth, one that made him nauseated. She was running on fumes, fighting pain and fever, terrified she was going to die. Beast had to trust that she would do as they’d agreed, because the Martinez brothers were bearing down on him.
He pushed away from the side of the crater and jumped to his feet, ignoring the sharp pain in his ribs, knowing that showing weakness was tantamount to conceding the fight. He was born for this. He’d been fighting on the streets of Atlantic City since he was barely a teen. And every single one of those fights, every professional match, was practice for this one.
He clenched his fists and charged for the nearest brother. Diego was unsteady on his feet, still shaking his head to get over the blast. Beast took him to the ground, straddling him while he punched his face, over and over again, until he went limp beneath him. The bastard was still breathing. Beast lifted his fist, knowing a punch to the throat would finish Diego off, when something slammed into his shoulder, sending him back into the mud.
It took him a second to realise he’d been shot. Blood poured from his arm, but he didn’t feel the pain. There was too much adrenalin in his system to allow it. He flexed his fist. It still worked. He’d worry about the bullet wound later. With a grunt, he clambered to his feet as Angel came at him. His arm was out in front of him. In his hand was a gun.
Diego groaned and rolled to his side. It was enough to distract his brother, who turned to look at him. Beast dove behind the burning news van, got to his feet and ran. Shots rang out, pinging against the burning metal, as Angel fired wildly. Beast saw Angel pull the trigger and nothing came out. He tossed the gun at the flames. Beast ran at him, pushing him into the middle of the clearing.
It was a whirl of fists and feet. Beast reeled at the blows, but didn’t feel them. That would come later. If he survived. He punched at Angel’s head and watched the blow hit true. Blood spurte
d and his head swung wildly. Beast didn’t wait. He followed the punch with a death blow to the throat, crushing Angel’s windpipe and sending him to the ground.
There was no time to gloat over the body. Beast whirled to face the other brother, only to stop dead. Diego was on his feet and pointing a gun straight at Beast.
“This is for my brother, you bastard!” He pulled the trigger.
There was a moment when time stood still. Beast watched shock spread over Diego’s face. The gun fell from his hand as his other hand pressed to his stomach. Bright red blood mingled with the mud covering him. He looked down at the blood and then crumpled, knees, shoulders, face hitting the ground.
Beast swung around to see who’d fired, and his heart stopped. Belinda was lying face down, half out of the crater. Her arm was stretched out and there was a gun in her hand. Beside her lay the body of the guard who’d watched over them. His weapon was missing. Belinda had used it to save Beast’s life.
Beast ran for her, sliding in the mud as bullets whizzed around him. He didn’t care. He didn’t know who was firing or why it was happening. All he cared about was Belinda. She didn’t move. Not even a twitch. He couldn’t see her breathing. She couldn’t be dead. She couldn’t.
“Belinda!” he roared as he slid to his knees in front of her.
He pulled the gun out of her hand, put his hands under her shoulders and dragged her up and out of the pit. She lay limply in his arms. Beast tried to wipe the mud away from her face, but there was too much on his hands. He was only making it worse. Frantically, he felt for a pulse and almost broke into tears when he found one. She was alive.
He clutched her against his chest, holding her there for a second, just one second before he had to pick her up and run for the trees.
“Beast,” someone shouted.
Beast snatched up the gun he’d taken from Belinda and aimed in the direction of the voice.
“It’s the cavalry, asshole. Try not to shoot us.”
Through the smoke billowing from the burning vehicles, two overly large forms appeared. They strode towards him, materialising like angels sent from heaven. Grunt and Harvard.
Ransom (Benson Security Book 4) Page 23
