She wondered if Milo knew and turned a blind eye. But there was no way she could give voice to her questions, so she kept the conversation light and focused on their English.
Pierre and Nicholas wanted to teach her French, and as she pretended to not know how to speak the language, they were delighted to share words with her. The afternoon passed peacefully with no more visits by René or Jean, but her energy was flagging by the time the school day was over, and the children ran off to find their mother.
She walked around the room, helping Milo put away the books and materials. Almost afraid of his answer, she asked, “Do we eat dinner with the family every night, or was last night just a special occasion?”
He grimaced. “Usually, it is just the family at dinner, but you were a newcomer. I normally eat where we had breakfast this morning.”
She assumed his apologetic expression was based on his erroneous assumption that she would be upset to not have dinner with the family each night. “That’s wonderful news for me. I’m so tired, I’d rather have a simple meal.”
His face relaxed, and his smile replaced his worried frown. “We can see if the cooks are ready early, and you can eat. That way, you can rest.” He hesitated, his gaze searching hers. “I’m sure this is a lot for you to get used to.”
She could see uncertainty in his eyes and spoke softly. “Milo, I didn’t volunteer or apply for this position. Surely you know that. I was taken from a hotel in Cayenne and brought here.”
His eyes were kind, and he shook his head slowly. “I am sorry, Sara. But you will get used to this. You’ll be treated well.”
Knowing it would be pointless to argue, she sucked her lips between her teeth and turned to place the last book back onto the shelf. Moving toward the door, she said, “Perhaps we can see if we can eat now.”
When the cook nodded, saying the food was ready, Sara was relieved. She and Milo sat at the table where they had had breakfast and enjoyed fish cooked in banana leaves, rice, and sweet potatoes, and for dessert, she tried the doku, a creamy pudding made from mashed corn, cinnamon, and brown sugar.
It was still early, but the meal exemplified her fatigue and she found it difficult to continue her conversation. As they finished, they could hear the family out in the foyer. Terrified that they might request her at dinner again, she stiffened.
Milo glanced over, seeming to note her unease. “Go upstairs to your room. If they look for you, I say you are ill.”
Sara was so grateful she could have wept. She reached over and placed her hand on his arm, giving a little squeeze. “Thank you, for...well, thank you.”
He smiled at her again, and she could see hope in his eyes. She had no idea exactly what he was hoping for, but at that moment, having someone else looking out for her earned her gratitude. Slipping from the room, she hurried up the stairs to the second floor, down the hall, and into her room. Placing the rocking chair underneath the doorknob again, she felt as though she could breathe easy for the first time all day.
She walked to the single window in her room and pulled back the curtains. Her room faced the back of the compound, and she stared out over the field where the boys had played ball earlier. She watched as the guard sauntered along the back wall, no longer as sharp since his boss was not right below. Standing for several minutes, she noted he walked slowly, his mannerism slouchy as though he was bored with his assignment. When he moved out of sight, it was almost ten minutes before he made his way back.
The wall appeared to be about a foot thick, and she tried to determine how tall it was. Definitely taller than she was, even if she had her hands lifted over her head. Sighing, she knew it would take a ladder to scale the wall. But where will I get a ladder? And where would I go if I got to the other side?
Sighing at the daunting idea of a successful escape, she lifted her gaze and looked beyond the wall out to the trees, remembering the strange feeling slithering through her earlier.
The sun had sunk below the tree line, and she continued to stare at the jungle, wondering if it truly had eyes. Giving her head a shake, she let the curtains fall back into place and moved into the bathroom to get ready for bed.
12
Using night-vision goggles, Blake was able to see his way as he pushed past the branches and leaves in his path. He watched as the guard on the wall made another pass before stopping to chat and knew that he would have no problem getting in. The area cleared between the rainforest and wall was deep in shadows, and he waited until just the right moment when the guard had sauntered around to the front.
As he neared, there was light emitting from the compound. With a quick run, he leaped upward, placing his right foot on the wall, continuing to propel himself while latching his hands on the top with ease. Within a few seconds, he had swung his leg up to the top, pulling his body the rest of the way. Still in shadow, he quickly ascertained the guards were nowhere to be seen. Looking down on the inside of the compound, he was near the back of the villa where he had seen Sara earlier.
The L-shaped villa was two stories tall. If someone was coming from the front they would have seen the wide porch that encompassed the family home. The bottom of the L faced backward toward the wall. He knew it housed the kitchens on the first floor and a few staff rooms on the second. He had almost missed seeing her earlier when she stepped to her window and looked out. It would not have mattered to the success of his mission…he would have simply entered each room until he found her and, if necessary, dispatched anyone who woke.
Still in the deep shadows from the forest, he dropped to the inside of the wall and slipped unnoticed to the back corner of the villa. Peering through the slats of a window, he could see light coming from the large kitchen. An older man was at the sink, having finished scrubbing a pot and setting it on the counter to dry. He was the only person that Blake could see, and it appeared the others had left for the evening.
Leaving a small light on, the man walked out the door, and Blake could hear his footsteps becoming softer, heading to what he knew were the male servants’ quarters. No other sounds were heard, and he moved to the back door and slipped inside.
His years of Delta training were ingrained, and he moved noiselessly, knowing the initial success of his mission rested on his being able to get to her and get her out without anyone waking or setting off an alarm. With the compound mostly sleeping and the guards not diligent in their duties, he had every confidence she would soon be with him.
He stepped soundlessly through the kitchen and into the next room, seeing a doorway leading to stairs. Grateful the wooden stairs did not creak, he peeked around the corner, seeing a short hall with several doors. A chair was in the hall, close to the last door. Another older man was sitting in the chair, his head bent forward as low snores came from his deep breathing.
Jesus, he’s supposed to be a guard? Blake supposed that if some of the female house staff lived here, the man was not so much a guard as simply a deterrent for the women not to slip out and men not to slip in. There were three doors on each side of the hall and one door at the end. That was the room with the window he had seen Sara look out of, but he had no idea if she was in a room by herself or was sharing it with someone else. While he hated senseless violence, he knew he could temporarily disable anyone that got in his way, even a possible female roommate.
Moving with stealth, he struck the sleeping guard with a carotid strike. The older man slumped forward, unconscious, and Blake lowered him to the floor. He fastened the watchman’s hands and feet with zip ties and placed a wide piece of tape over his mouth.
He tried the doorknob, finding that it turned easily, but when he attempted to push the door open, it only moved an inch before it hit an obstruction. He could see the edge of a chair and stifled both a grin and a groan at Sara’s simple ingenuity. He would easily be able to force the door, breaking the chair, but would make noise that he wanted to avoid.
Partially closing the door, he noted that the chair rocked back and realized it was
a rocking chair, not a straight leg. With enough room to slip his fingers through the opening, he wiggled the chair forward just enough that he was able to get the back from up under the doorknob. Glancing over his shoulder, he ascertained the guard was still unconscious on the floor, and he discerned no movements from any of the rooms.
Silently opening the door, he slipped inside, closing it behind him. A sliver of moonlight came through the window, falling upon the single figure in the lone bed. A warm rush of relief flooded his being. Sara. Thank God. It was strange, the feeling that rushed over him. Something different than any other rescue mission he had been on. Something personal. He was intuitive enough to know that the personal relationship they had shared the one night they were together made her different from any other mission. He could not deny the fear he had felt when she had been snatched in front of him nor the way his heart felt staring at her now.
He remained quiet, simply watching her sleep, knowing it would be the last peaceful moment she would have until their escape was complete.
Without making a sound, he skirted around the rocking chair to the bed, bending over her. Not wanting to take a chance that she would awaken in fright and scream, he quickly clamped his hand over her mouth.
Her eyes flew open and her hands reached up to claw at his arm, struggling wildly, surprisingly strong for someone so petite. With his free hand, he jerked his night-vision goggles off his head and leaned down.
“Sara,” he whispered. “It’s me. Blake.”
Her struggles continued for a few more seconds until his words penetrated her terror and her hands grasped onto his arm tightly. Eyes still impossibly wide, they now filled with tears.
Not wanting to waste any time, he bent low. “Get dressed. Don’t make any noise. We’re leaving now.”
Once again, it took a few seconds for his words to sink in, and he continued to keep his hand over her mouth until she nodded her understanding. She stood from the bed and threw her arms around him. He embraced her tightly, the feel of her body sending peace as he held her head to his chest, tucked just underneath his chin. “Go on, now.” He hated to lose her touch but wanted to get her away from the compound.
She nodded then hurriedly tiptoed to the bathroom. With her back to him, she whipped the nightgown over her head and bent to snag some clothes folded on the edge of the tub. He averted his eyes while she slid on her bra and pulled on her tank top before sliding her arms into her blouse. Slipping her capris over her legs and hips, she turned back toward him and whispered, “These are the only shoes I have.”
He looked at the wedged sandals that she had been wearing the previous day and knew they were not the right footwear for what they needed to do. But, without an alternative, they had no choice. Giving her a quick nod, she slid her feet into the shoes, fastening them around her ankles.
Turning back to the sink, she ran a brush through her hair, braiding it into a long braid that she tied off at the bottom.
While she had been getting ready, he rechecked the guard outside, still finding him unconscious on the floor. He lifted the man and took him into Sara’s room, depositing him on her bed, pulling the covers over him.
She walked out of the bathroom and stared wide-eyed. Shaking his head to quell any questions, he took her hand and led her into the hall, closing her door behind them. They made their way to the top of the stairs at the end of the hall.
Taking the lead, he retraced his steps down the stairs and into the kitchen with her right behind him. He kept both of his hands free to be able to use if necessary but could feel her close presence behind him and her hand lightly resting on his back as they moved forward.
So far, he could not believe his good fortune in the mission going so smoothly. The inside information had led him straight to the villa of the compound. The guards performed their duties in a lackadaisical manner, obviously believing no threat would encroach. Sara had been placed in a room by herself with only an old, sleeping man on watch.
Not one to take anything for granted, he maintained his vigilance. Just as they were about to step into the kitchen, he heard a noise and a small light came on in the next room. Throwing his hand back against Sara, he plastered them along the wall, out of sight as he peeked around to see who was in the kitchen.
Sara fought to keep her heartbeat steady and her breathing noiseless as Blake’s arm pressed her against the wall in the shadows outside the kitchen. Having gone to sleep in the greatest of despair only to wake up several hours later staring into the eyes of her rescuer, the one man she thought never to see again, it was difficult for her mind to catch up with the events swirling around her.
She observed his hand sliding to his side, his fingers wrapping around the hilt of a long knife. She hated the idea of bloodshed but was desperate to escape. Blake moved ever so slightly, allowing him to look inside the room. Curiosity had her peek around as well. Milo! What is he doing?
Her silent question was soon answered as she saw him pouring a glass of milk and helping himself to a few of the small cakes they had had for dessert. Frustrated that their process was halted by someone getting a snack, she jolted as Blake swiftly moved into the room, coming up behind Milo.
Emitting a small squeak, she rushed forward, her hands up. Whispering, “No, no. He’s a teacher.”
Milo’s eyes were bugging from his head as Blake’s arm was tight around his neck, the blade of his knife pressed against his back. Blake’s gaze shot toward her, and he grimaced.
She knew she should have remained quiet and let him disable or kill Milo, but she could not. The young teacher deserved a chance to live. She tiptoed closer. “Milo,” she whispered, “you must stay quiet. Please, don’t give me away.”
She watched as he stared at her for a few seconds, then jerked his head up and down ever so slightly. Blake barely loosened his hold on Milo’s neck but kept the knife so that it was still pressing against his back.
She ignored Blake’s growl and moved so that Milo was in front of her. “Please, come with us.”
Barely able to speak with Blake’s hold still tight, Milo whispered, “I have no family…nowhere to go.”
Not understanding, she tilted her head to the side but remained quiet. Milo, his eyes pleading as they held her gaze, said, “I was glad meeting you, thinking to have a new friend. But I know…this is not your home.” He sucked in a breath and sighed. “I’m safe here. I’m paid well. Respected. This is now my home.”
She had no time to ponder his words as Blake whispered, “Make your choice. Now.”
Milo’s eyes filled with tears, but he said, “Be safe. I’m staying.”
Blake moved so quickly she had no time to prepare, simply staring as he whirled Milo around and made a swift chop of his hand against Milo’s neck. Milo fell forward, and Blake dragged him to the corner, letting his body slump to the floor in the shadows of the room. She watched as he bound Milo’s hands and feet with zip ties and also placed a wide piece of tape over his mouth.
Dousing the light, he turned back toward her, but she continued to stare at the unconscious body on the floor. Grabbing her arm, Blake moved to his face directly in front of hers, and she slowly lifted her gaze to his eyes. “He’s only unconscious, not dead. He made his choice. We’ve got to go.”
She jerked her head up and down in short nods, finding it difficult to suck air into her lungs. He gave her no more time to think as he gently latched onto her arm, pushed her behind his body, and they moved to the outer door of the kitchen. He threw his hand up and she halted, waiting as he slipped out the door. Not hearing a sound, she was relieved when he reached back and pulled her through the doorway, shutting it behind her.
Determined to not be a hindrance, she breathed the night air deeply through her nose before letting it out slowly. Forcing her legs to steady, she followed him quietly along the back of the villa, staying in the shadows. Having no idea where they were going, she slammed into his back as he stopped suddenly. His hand landed on her chest as he
pushed her against the villa. Hearing a slight noise, she looked up and watched as one of the guards walked along the top of the outer wall. She could hear the pounding of her heart and her breath as it left her lungs and could not believe the guard did not look down, hearing it as well.
He walked out of sight, but they remained plastered against the wall for a moment, and she assumed he was waiting to see if the guard would come back. He turned and looked at her, and whispered, “Stay here until I reach out my hand for you. Then, and only then, come to me.”
She had no idea what his instructions meant, but suddenly he left her side, ran straight for the wall, and instead of hitting it, threw his foot forward, the momentum carrying him upward until his hands latched onto the edge. He deftly swung his legs up to the top, lying prone on the thick wall.
Looking straight at her, he reached his hand out. It hit her that he wanted her to run toward him, and she hesitated for a few seconds. This is madness! He wiggled his fingers impatiently, and she knew she had no choice. She had to give all her trust over to him. She sucked in a breath and left the safety of the shadows.
Emulating his actions, she ran to the wall, only able to jump slightly as she neared. She lifted her arm and felt him grasp her firmly as his fingers reached around her wrist. He began to pull, and she clung to him, her feet now dangling in the air.
Stunned at his strength, she reached with her free hand and grabbed the top of the wall. By herself, she would never have had the strength to pull herself up, but with him hauling her weight upward, she was able to get her chest to the top. He continued to pull, and she swung her leg out, her foot planting on top of the wall. Now that she was this close, adrenaline rushed through her and she maneuvered her body as he pushed her to a seated position before dropping to the other side. She peered down and saw his arms lift up toward her. Whirling around, she dropped her legs over the far side close to him and felt his hands reach up to clasp her thighs. Letting go, she gave all her weight to him, which he took easily.
Blake (Lighthouse Security Investigations Book 5) Page 10
