Though she didn’t realize it at the time, the tree across the road was a blessing. It stalled the kidnappers’ progress. Maybe it would be enough to convince them to give up the hunt.
Knowing the load Wyatt was towing, she found a rock by the creek to rest several hours later. The road seemed to follow the same path as the stream. She checked on Ryan and then plopped down beside Wyatt, her feet aching.
“Do you think we’re headed in the right direction?”
He looked skyward. “It’s hard to tell the position of the sun through the trees. I think—”
His voice trailed off when leaves crunched behind them. They both jumped up from the rock, guns in hand.
The brush parted and a young boy with a bucket appeared. His eyes widened at the gun Wyatt pointed at him. Wyatt quickly lowered it. She did as well.
“Who are you?” he asked in Spanish.
“We’re, ah, tourists,” she answered. “Who are you?”
“Pedro. What happened to him?” He pointed to Ryan.
“He was hurt. We need to get him help. Do you live close to here, Pedro?”
He nodded and pointed over his shoulder. Hope flared. “Can you take us there so we can get help?”
He shrugged a shoulder and nodded at the same time, a move that reminded her of Kai Costa, the son of one of Wyatt’s coworkers. Pedro dipped the bucket into the water to fill it and then gestured for them to follow.
They needed to cross the creek, which wasn’t easy with no bridge. Somehow, Superman Wyatt maneuvered Ryan across without dunking him. She couldn’t avoid getting her feet wet again. She hoped Pedro’s village was close so she didn’t develop blisters on top of her blisters.
Wyatt picked up the handles of the stretcher and they trailed behind the boy. He kept darting looks over his shoulder to make sure they followed, sometimes adding a hand gesture for them to keep up. She wanted to tell him that they were going as fast as they could on tired, aching feet and in Wyatt’s case, an added load of at least two hundred pounds. Instead, she smiled and nodded.
The route Pedro took had been well-traveled. It was narrow, but clear of plants or twigs. They came to a clearing with a cluster of small huts. Though it wasn’t the same one, it looked similar to the village where she’d delivered the baby. Had it only been three days ago? Four? Time was getting away from her. She hoped the mother and baby were doing well. She’d planned on returning to check on them before she was kidnapped.
“Pedro, is there a cell phone here we can use?”
Pedro’s face twisted in confusion. “What’s a cell phone?”
Before she could explain, a man spotted them emerge from the woods and he hurried over. He wore a long black robe and thick wooden cross around his neck that indicated he was clergy. His eyes darted around. “Who are you? What do you want?”
“I’m a physician with Doctors International,” Amelia told him. “We’re a charity that provides medical assistance to countries around the world.”
His shoulders relaxed. “Yes, I know who you are. We’ve had doctors visit our village before. Is that why you’re here now?” His mouth tightened when he glanced at Wyatt and an unconscious Ryan strapped to a stretcher.
“No, I was kidnapped from the hospital where I was working. I was put in a cell along with these two men, but we managed to escape. Do you have a phone we can use to call for help?”
He shook his head. “No phones here. I’m sorry. We’re a remote village.”
“Are we still in Santigo, Father?” Wyatt asked. It was a good question since they had no idea where they were taken after they were abducted.
“It’s Father Juan and yes, you are, but we are many, many kilometers inside the rainforest, and many kilometers from a larger village with resources like telephones. I can’t help with technology, but I can feed you.”
She smiled, hoping the disappointment didn’t show. “Thank you, Father, that would be wonderful.”
They followed him to a small church that butted up against a hill, thankfully with a ramp Wyatt used to drag Ryan inside. Father Juan led them through the nave to his private quarters in the back where he dished out hot soup and warm bread. Though the village was remote, they had electricity and running water. Father Juan explained that missionaries helped to install solar panels and dig wells.
Once they finished, Amelia checked on Ryan and then accepted the cup of coffee Father Juan held out to her.
“Do you know who kidnapped you?”
“No, we don’t.”
The priest looked worried. “Gangs have taken over the country and they are brutal. The government does nothing to stop them. They grow bolder by the day.” He eyed Wyatt. “I detect an accent. New Zealand?”
“Australia, originally,” he corrected.
The priest nodded. “You were probably taken for ransom. The larger gangs have branched out from drugs and now routinely abduct foreigners. It’s become a very lucrative business for them. The government turns a blind eye to the shenanigans. I don’t know if they get a percentage or don’t want to discourage tourism. Whatever the reason, they haven’t stepped in to stop them.” His brows dipped. “They usually leave the medical personnel alone.”
“I was outside of the hospital when I was taken. Maybe they didn’t realize I was a doctor.” They didn’t share their conclusion about Amelia being snatched because of what she witnessed, assuring Father Juan plausible deniability if he was ever questioned.
Father Juan finished his cup of coffee and stood to place it in the sink. Though sparse, the room was immaculately clean. He turned to them. “You are welcome to stay until your friend is able to travel.” He indicated Ryan lying on a pallet in the corner. “But, if the group who kidnapped you discovers you’re here, the entire village is at risk. They kill without mercy.” He stood and looked out the window. “I don’t think anyone besides Pedro saw me bring you here, but I will tell them that you continued on your journey. He motioned with his hand. “Follow me.”
He led them down a narrow corridor to a bedroom with a twin bed and a dresser. One wall was filled with books and trinkets. He shoved the rugged bookshelf out of the way to reveal an opening and pulled a string to illuminate the space. It was the same size as the bedroom with no windows, but there were two beds and a small bathroom in the back corner.
“The villagers don’t know about it,” he explained. “The missionaries helped me to build it. I wanted somewhere I could hide people if needed. It hasn’t happened here, but I’ve served with other communities where women were brutalized by their husbands. Sometimes children were involved. I wanted a safe haven for them. I was afraid if I told anyone about this place, they might talk, negating the purpose. You’ll be safe here for as long as you need to rest. It’s built into the side of a hill, so there is no other way inside.”
Amelia wanted to hug the priest. “You’re too kind, Father. I can’t tell you how much we appreciate your hospitality.”
Wyatt left to retrieve Ryan. He lifted the handles of the stretcher and transported him inside. She tugged down the covers on one of the beds and he lifted the unconscious man and placed him on the mattress before scooting the stretcher out of the way beneath the frame. Then he retreated to gather their bags.
Father Juan gently arranged a blanket over Ryan. “Will he be okay?”
“He’s doing as well as can be expected. The men who kidnapped us brutalized him. I gave him a sedative so the trip through the forest wouldn’t be painful on his injuries.”
“Is there anything I can do for him besides pray?”
“Providing a safe place to rest is the best medicine he could have right now, along with your prayers.”
“Well then, I’m glad I could help. As I said, you are welcome as long as you need, but you’ll need to stay hidden during the day. I don’t want anyone to see you. I will bring you food and water. When you are ready to leave, I will help you on your way.”
“Do you know of Manos Curativas?”
�
��Yes. It is approximately ten kilometers to the south.” He pointed in the direction. “The terrain is rocky and rugged. It will take at least two days to reach the hospital from here. I will make sure you have enough supplies for your journey.”
Wyatt placed the bags on the floor beside the other bed. “Father, can I ask where you get your food supplies?”
“A charity provides these things for us. They come here once a month. Unfortunately, they were just here two days ago. The good news is that my shelves are overflowing. I will have enough to share with you.”
Amelia gave into the urge and hugged him. “We can’t thank you enough, Father. You’re an angel. I’m not sure what we would’ve done without your generosity and kindness. There must be some way we can repay you. I could provide routine examinations and tend to the sick.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I think it would be best if you left here quietly. If the group who took you is who I think they are, they would think nothing of slaughtering every person in the village, man or woman, young or old. It is better if no one sees you.”
Father Juan showed them how to work the door from the inside and then left to make sure Pedro knew that they had departed the village. He promised to return with food in a few hours.
Now that they were safe, Amelia checked Ryan out thoroughly. Wyatt brought a wet cloth from the bathroom and she wiped away the dried blood on his face and from his various injuries. Infection was always a worry, especially in a jungle where who knew what parasites lurked in wait. After applying antiseptic and bandaging the worst of his cuts, she started the last IV.
She stood and arched her back to stretch sore muscles. Exhaustion pulled at her, but the lure of the shower was too strong to ignore. Wyatt obviously felt the same way. He’d stripped to all his naked glory and she couldn’t help but stare. She’d seen hundreds of naked men in her line of work. Wyatt was in a class to himself. Broad, strong shoulders. A wide chest that tapered to a lean waist covered with the most incredible six pack. Strong, solid thighs and muscular calves. Even his feet were sexy. And the part of him that was trying desperately to snag her attention was the most impressive of all. God had made the perfect man when he constructed Wyatt Hollister. How did she get so lucky as to have him all to herself, even for a short time?
Her eyes travelled back up to his handsome face to see him watching her check him out, amusement lifting the corners of his mouth. “See something you like?”
She nodded slowly. She saw something she loved, actually. Him.
He held out a beckoning hand. She walked forward and grasped it. “Let’s get you out of these clothes.”
Wyatt turned the mundane routine of undressing into an erotic event. There was kissing and caressing and fondling and she had to bite her lip to keep from screaming when the first orgasm slammed into her.
With a look of immense masculine pride, he kissed her and then turned on the taps. Lukewarm water sluiced from a showerhead high on the wall. The stall was barely big enough to fit Wyatt, so there was lots of skin on skin contact. When he lifted her against the wall and thrust into her, she had to clench her teeth together to keep from shouting out again as a powerful climax rushed through her, more intense than the first—and that one had been pretty damn strong. She was vaguely aware of Wyatt following her, his growl of satisfaction vibrating against her neck.
When he spoke against her ear, his voice was a low rumble that had goose bumps erupting along her arms. “Do you think it’s sacrilegious or something to have incredible, mind-blowing sex in the back of a church with a priest going about his merry way a few feet away?”
Amelia smiled and despite the ordeal they’d been through and the challenges that lie ahead, she was happy. “Probably.” But what they shared wasn’t just sex to her. They’d made love. She thought that maybe God would understand the difference.
Chapter Twelve
Amelia decided Ryan was either military or law enforcement the moment he regained consciousness. The cadence of his breathing changed, and his lids fluttered. As soon as his eyes opened, his hand shot to his hip, reaching for a non-existent weapon.
“Hey, how are you—”
Her words died in a choked gasp when Ryan reared up and wrapped his hand around her neck. As quickly as he grabbed her, his grip was gone, and she stumbled back, sputtering out a cough.
“Are you okay, Amelia?”
Wyatt had Ryan’s arms pinned down and he was staring at her with concern.
She swallowed. “I’m fine.”
Wyatt turned back to Ryan. “I’d hate to have saved your sorry ass just to turn around and kill you,” he growled. “You just attacked the doctor who’s cared for you for two days you son of a bitch.”
“Sorry,” Ryan croaked. “Truly. Thought you were the bad guys.” His eye fluttered closed.
Amelia tapped Wyatt on the shoulder. “Let me examine him.”
Wyatt’s eyes narrowed. “The hell you say. I don’t trust him.”
“I won’t try anything again,” Ryan promised, his eyes still closed. “I’m too weak to fight you. I’ll trust you’re a doctor.”
“I am.” Wyatt still hadn’t released him. “Wyatt.” Her voice had an edge of warning. Yes, it was sexy as hell that he wanted to take care of her, but she didn’t need him or any man to do that. She could handle herself. If Wyatt hadn’t jumped in, she’d have been able to extract herself from Ryan’s grip with a few crafty moves former Navy SEAL Dorian Demarchis taught her. He showed her several ways to disable an attacker and most of them involved fighting dirty.
Mumbling his displeasure, Wyatt eased to the side but didn’t go far. She rolled her eyes. Alpha males. Focusing her attention on the patient, she asked, “Ryan, are you still with me?”
“Yeah.”
“I need to check your pupils. Can you open your eyes…er, eye?”
One lid blinked open to reveal an iris the light grey of a stormy sky. With her thumb, she lifted the lid of his swollen eye. His pupils were equal and reflective to light. A good sign. “Can you tell me your name?”
“Ryan. Ryan Marx. Wait…” His hand gripped her wrist and Wyatt growled. He released her instantly. “Sorry. You called me Ryan earlier. How did you know my name?” His voice was laced with suspicion.
“It was a guess. We found a backpack with a tag on it, belonging to a Ryan Marx. We assumed it was you.”
“It was—is. Who are you, anyway?”
“My name is Doctor Amelia Howell and I’m a practicing physician in the United States. This is Wyatt Hollister. He’s a security specialist with COBRA Securities, also in the States. Do you know what country you’re in, Ryan?”
His brows creased. “I was backpacking with friends in the Brazilian rainforest when we were separated. A group of men attacked me, but I was able to get off a shot before they overpowered me and beat me until I lost consciousness. I don’t know if it was a dream, but I remember waking up in some kind of cell. There were bars.” He glanced around the room. “I was lying on the ground.”
“It wasn’t a dream. We rescued you from there.”
“I think there was a woman in the cell with me. She was weeping.” His eye met hers. “Was that you?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Is she here?”
Regret washed over Amelia that they’d been too late. “We weren’t able to save her.”
“You mean she’s still there?” He started to sit up. “We need to get her out.”
She placed a hand on his shoulder to keep him down. “No, Ryan, I mean we were too late. We didn’t leave her there. She passed away.”
His head fell back to the pillow. “They hurt her, didn’t they…whoever they are.”
“Yes.” She cleared her throat, the pain of knowing how the woman suffered gripping her like a steel band around her lungs. “Can you tell me where you hurt?”
“My head’s throbbing, my face feels like it was pounded with a meat tenderizer and I ache a little all over. It feels l
ike I went a few rounds with steel-toed boots. Other than that, nothing major.” He lifted his hands and worked his fingers. “Nothing broken, though I probably have a couple of cracked ribs.”
“That’s good to know. I’m going to examine you now, but I’ll be careful.”
“You sure you’re a real doctor? You aren’t just saying that to get your hands on my bod, are you?”
She chuckled, his humor reminding her of Wyatt. She glanced up at him to see that Wyatt wasn’t nearly as amused. She refocused on the patient. “Does it hurt when I press here?”
“Ow-no,” he hedged. “COBRA Securities? Really? You guys are famous.”
“We are,” Wyatt agreed with more than a little pride in his voice.
She pressed Ryan’s ribs. “What about here?”
He sucked in a breath. “Hella sore, but I don’t think they’re broken. I’ve suffered through cracked ribs before, and that’s what it feels like.”
“There’s a rib contusion that may be contributing to the pain.” She went over his body and was relieved to note that it didn’t appear as if he had serious internal injuries judging from his reactions when she pressed and prodded. She’d feel better when he was thoroughly checked in a hospital but felt fairly certain that he’d live.
Ryan glanced around the dim space again. “How did I end up here?”
Amelia removed her stethoscope and folded it back inside her pack. “Wyatt and I were both abducted by the same group as you. We saw them bring you in. We were able to escape and brought you with us.”
“Damn,” he murmured. “How did you get me out of there? They beat me unconscious. I was dead to the world.”
Amelia indicated Wyatt, who’d moved to the other bed but still watched them with eagle eyes. “Wyatt carried you through the forest.”
“No effing way. I weigh a good two-twenty.”
Without a Trace (COBRA Securities Book 18) Page 13
