He’d love to get to know the attractive doctor, but the Aussie had already staked a claim. Whether he realized it or not, he hadn’t quit touching her. She looked equally taken with the big guy. They had a chemistry that was almost tangible. He felt like a voyeur at times watching the looks that passed between them. And apparently, they shared a history, too. Though they hadn’t described their relationship as boyfriend and girlfriend, Wyatt had travelled to South America to visit Amelia. That was telling.
Ryan focused on his own body. He wasn’t back to fighting form yet, but he should be able to hike through the jungle in a day or so. His buddies would be worried sick when he disappeared. He struggled upright, only to discover that he was alone in the room. He vaguely recalled the priest coming in and Wyatt saying something about a sick child.
That brought an uncomfortable thought to his head. What if they didn’t return? He had no idea where he was besides Santigo, no means of communication with the outside world. They could’ve been feeding him lies and left him in the small room that would become his tomb. He was too weak to even check for a weapon.
They seemed sincere recalling the escape from the prison and his bullshit radar was stellar. He didn’t detect lies from either of them. And the man who came inside speaking Spanish looked like a priest, complete with black robe and rosary. He sighed and collapsed back to the pillow. His only choice was to trust them. He had no doubt he’d have died in that prison if they hadn’t rescued him. The men who took him had been particularly brutal, whether it was because he’d shot one of their goons or they were just evil, he didn’t know. But the fact that he was away from them was an advantage. If Wyatt and Amelia didn’t come back, he’d figure a way out of here. He’d spied food in a box that would sustain him. He’d be fine until his strength returned and he was able to find his way home, except he didn’t know where that was anymore.
He'd spent years with the military, travelling almost non-stop. He didn’t even have a permanent address. He stayed with friends or on whatever base he’d been assigned. He rented a storage locker in St. John’s and that was where most of his belongings resided. He’d lost his parents a year apart when he was serving overseas. With no siblings, their estate passed to him. He’d worked with a broker to sell the home, but there were several items he couldn’t part with that were now inside the same storage facility.
He hadn’t been out of the uniform for a week when his buddies scheduled the trip to the rainforest. He’d have rather stayed home and contemplated his future, but they were persistent and refused to take no for an answer. Now he wished he’d put his foot down. If so, he’d be reclining in a hotel somewhere with a case of beer and a remote. Maybe companionship of the female persuasion. Instead, he was who-knew where with a busted body and a tentative friendship with two people who might or might not be trustworthy. He could really freak out if he thought about it too long.
The door started to slide open and he wished he had his weapon. Most of his body might be broken, but all he needed was a steady trigger finger. He’d always aced the firearms tests and had complete confidence in his ability to take out a shooter before he could return fire.
He tried not to let the relief he felt show at seeing Amelia and Wyatt return, but the looks on their faces had him struggling to his elbows. “What happened?”
“Two men paid a visit to the church. We made a run for it when their backs were turned.”
A spurt of hope that his buddies found him had him sitting all the way up. “Two men? What did they look like?”
“Dark, scraggly hair and scruffy beards, neck and arm tats.”
So much for red-headed BJ and African American Keith. “Were they looking for us?”
“Possibly. Father Juan seemed uneasy.”
Amelia walked over to him. “How are you feeling, Ryan?”
“Better.” And he was. His strength was slowly returning and if he had to, he could walk out of here today. He glanced between Amelia and Wyatt, bringing up the question that had been nagging at him. “You said there were no other prisoners, right?”
Wyatt shook his head. “No. We were it.”
“Okay, good.” He closed his eye in relief. That meant that his friends were safe. They were probably combing the jungle looking for him. They’d no doubt call in search and rescue and were turning over every leaf in Brazil looking for him. They had no way of knowing he was in a different country.
“Were you thinking your friends had been abducted, too?” Amelia asked.
“Yeah.” He opened his eye. “They’ll be worried.” They’d been worried about him before the trip. Hell, it wasn’t as if he was suicidal or anything. Just at loose ends. The military had been his focus for so long, he didn’t know what to do with himself now. “I don’t suppose you have a cell phone so I can make a call?”
“You suppose correctly,” Wyatt said. “None in this village and we couldn’t find any before we made our escape. If there had been one, I’d have already called in reinforcements.”
#
Father Juan made the Sign of the Cross when the taller man lowered his shoulder and rammed the door open, splintering it apart. The men entered the room, guns first. His breath wooshed from his lungs when they came back out empty handed. God answered his prayer, guiding Dr. Amelia and Wyatt to safety.
“You did not have to break down the door,” he chastised. “I told you it was empty.”
The taller man scratched his cheek. “Yeah, sorry about that,” he said, not sounding the least bit sorry.
“The only other rooms are my living quarters. You are welcome to check them out,” he offered magnanimously. They’d never find the hidden room, so he didn’t mind them looking.
“Nah,” the shorter one said. “We believe you, Padre. We’ll be going.”
Father Juan watched them saunter down the aisle, their eyes still searching. He waited until they stepped outside before he followed them. They stopped on the stoop and lit cigarettes, chatting while they smoked. He willed them to go but they just kept standing there. He was beginning to think they wouldn’t leave at all. Were they waiting for someone? Friends of theirs or someone from the village to question? His flock was as wary of strangers as he was, except for the little ones like Pedro. He was too young and naïve to realize how truly horrible some people could be. He was a ray of light, spreading joy and happiness everywhere he went. Father Juan prayed that the trait didn’t come back to haunt Pedro.
Father Juan had spent many years in the capital city of Meseta and he’d seen the worst of humanity firsthand. Murder. Drugs. Deviant behavior. It was why he’d requested a post with one of the rainforest villages. Life was simple here. Sometimes.
When the men finally ground out the butts and descended the steps, he worried they would approach the villagers. Maria and Paulo would no doubt tell them about the female doctor that took the pain from their daughter. If so, the men would know Father Juan lied to them. Thankfully, they headed back to the jungle without speaking with anyone.
Father Juan turned and collapsed against the door, relief making his knees weak. That had been close. He did not condone lying, but those men were no friends of Dr. Amelia, Wyatt and Ryan. They were after them, he was sure of it.
He pushed upright, hurrying to the hidden room to check on them. He prayed the men hadn’t picked up on his nervousness. He tried to hide it from them, but he had a feeling they would be back, and next time, they might not take his word that the church was empty.
Chapter Fourteen
Amelia checked Ryan’s vital signs again, looking pleased with the results. “You’re getting stronger by the hour. Your counts are improving. Your color is good. Do you feel like travelling yet?”
“Whenever you’re ready,” he replied.
“That’s good to hear, but you’re not quite up to a jungle trek. However, you’ve improved to the point that I’m not as worried about unseen internal injuries. I’d also like for you to get up and walk around.”
&nbs
p; “Not a problem since I suddenly realized I need to use the bathroom and I’d kill for a shower.”
“No need to resort to violence,” Wyatt quipped as he helped him stand. Ryan’s legs wobbled but held and they made the slow, shuffling trip to the bathroom. Wyatt let him do most of the work. He stood ready in case Ryan’s battered, bruised body gave out on him. Once they made it inside the small room, Ryan turned to him.
“I should be able to do this myself.”
“I’ll be right outside if you need help.”
Wyatt waited until the shower turned on before he addressed Amelia. “Give me your honest opinion. Is he in any shape to get out of here?”
“As much as I want to go, I’d like to give him another day at least. Two would be better. He’s recovering, but I don’t want to chance a setback.” She made a motion with her hands. “Take off your shirt.”
Wyatt cocked a brow and glanced at the closed bathroom door. “Do you think we have time for that now? The water is tepid at best. He’ll be back soon.” His voice dropped an octave. “I like taking my time with you—not that I’ve done that yet,” he muttered. “Oh, what the hell.” He ripped his shirt off and reached for her.
Amelia slapped his hands away and gave him the exasperated look that he’d come to know and love. “Not for that, you pervert. I want to check the bullet wound and change the bandage.” She snapped on a pair of latex gloves.
“Aw, come on, a quickie before he returns.” He wagged his brows and reached for her again, but she sidestepped his attempts.
“No, we are not going to indulge in a quickie when Ryan or Father Juan could walk in at any moment.”
“Wait—did you call me a pervert?”
“Wrong choice of word,” she corrected. “Sex addict?”
He nodded “Better. But only with you. You sure I can’t coax you into a little slap and tickle?”
Her mouth dropped open. “You did not say that.”
Wyatt shrugged. “Can’t blame a bloke for trying.”
“You’re incorrigible,” she said as she stuck a fingernail beneath the bandage and ripped it off his chest in one fell swoop.
He hissed in a breath. “A little warning would be nice.” He reached up to rub the sting, but she slapped his hand away again. “Not liking this mean streak of yours.”
“You can’t be touching an open wound with your dirty paws. Do you want an oozing, festering infection?”
“Dirty? Paws? Who do you think I am, bloody King Kong?” Sheesh, he washed his hands as often as possible. He was an eyelash away from being obsessive about it, though it was hard to find a bar of soap in the middle of the Santigo jungle.
She paused, letting her gaze slowly slide down his body, settling on his groin. “Not a bad comparison.”
“Not fair when you won’t let me ravish you speedily,” he growled, the part of his anatomy she admired clamoring for attention so fast, his head spun from the sudden loss of blood in his head.
Just then, a loud thump sounded from the bathroom. Lust forgotten, Wyatt dashed to the door and thrust it open to find Ryan slumped on the shower floor. He turned off the taps and reached down to lift Ryan to his feet.
“Might’ve misjudged my stamina,” Ryan slurred.
Wyatt used the towel Amelia handed him to dry the other man off, and then helped him into a pair of sweatpants they found in his backpack. Wyatt led him back to the bed and helped him down to the thin mattress. Amelia rebandaged the worst of his injuries. He was asleep five minutes later.
“It looks like we’ll be spending another day here,” Wyatt conceded.
“It does,” she agreed. “Probably two. I’d like to give him another IV to replenish the fluids he’s lost, but I’m out. We need to make sure he hydrates while he’s awake.”
There was a soft knock on the door. Wyatt met Amelia’s eyes and then walked to the lock.
“It’s me, Father Juan.”
Wyatt shot the bolt and slid the door open.
Father Juan sighed at seeing them. “I was so worried. The men, they were looking for you.”
It was what Wyatt expected but having it confirmed made him uneasy. These guys were not giving up.
“They told me they were friends of yours and that you had been hiking together when you were separated. Seeing as how they weren’t dressed for hiking, the lie was easy to detect. I didn’t realize you left the room,” Father Juan continued. “They insisted on checking it and I was sure you would be caught.” He made the Sign of the Cross.
“Thank you for steering them away. It gave us the chance to escape.”
“You’re welcome. I watched them leave the premises so we’re safe for now.” He retreated to his bedroom and returned with a cardboard box. “I brought more food and some books, but they’re in Spanish.”
Wyatt took the box from his arms. “Thank you, Father. We appreciate your hospitality.”
“No thanks necessary. How’s Ryan?”
“Better,” Amelia announced. “He was up and moving on his own. We hope to leave in the next day or so.”
“There’s no hurry,” Father Juan assured them. “You’re welcome for as long as you need. I’ll be back in the morning with breakfast.”
After they bid him goodnight, Wyatt dug through the box and handed Amelia a bottle of water and some fig cookies. They sat side by side on the bed, their shoulders touching.
“What’s the first thing you want to do when we get out of this country?” she asked him.
“I want to take you to visit my mum. You’ll love her, and vice versa. I want to show you the country I grew up in and show you off to my mates.” He chuckled. “They’ll be so bloody jealous. Then I want to go home, smack Kai Costa a high five and make love to you in my bed for a month.” He paused. “What about you?”
It took her a minute to respond and he wasn’t sure she would. Had he given too much away? Yes, he loved her. He hadn’t said the words, but he’d implied them. Hadn’t he? He loved Amelia, with all his heart and soul.
Finally, she admitted, “I want the same thing and I want you to meet my parents, too. My dad might give you a hard time, but my mom will be smitten.”
“Amelia?”
“Hum?”
“This thing between us, it’s not just situational, or whatever you call it when two people are thrown into unusual circumstances.”
She turned her head to stare at him and he met her gaze. This was important. She was important. He wanted her to understand that this wasn’t just a temporary fling for him. He wanted her in his life. Forever. The last time he told a woman he loved her, she’d told him that she loved him, too, then she banged his best bud as soon as his back was turned. He knew Amelia wouldn’t jump in the sack with Grant or Sawyer, and not just because they were both hopelessly in love with their wives, but she wasn’t made that way. He knew in his bones that if Amelia told him she loved him, she’d mean it with every fiber of her being.
The words hovered on the tip of his tongue. Just tell her, a voice in his head demanded. She deserves to know how you feel. Still, he held back. Whether it was some misguided attempt to protect his heart, he didn’t know. Instead, he placed their bottles of water on the floor, snapped off the light and gathered her in his arms. Then he proceeded to show her with his body the words his mouth couldn’t form. All night long.
Chapter Fifteen
Amelia woke slowly, the feeling of security wrapped around her as tightly as Wyatt’s arms. She knew she was safe in the small room carved out of a hill in the remote jungle of Santigo, but it was Wyatt’s presence that gave her the sense of calm and contentment she needed to sleep soundly.
She thought he was going to tell her he loved her last night. She’d been both gloriously elated and fanatically freaked out. It wasn’t that she didn’t want his love—she did. Desperately. She’d loved him for what seemed like forever. But they were in danger, stuck in a country without any means of escape at the moment. Their lives were at risk as soon as they lef
t the confines of the tiny room in Father Juan’s church, and she was the target. Wyatt had been helplessly caught up in her drama. The men who hunted them were after her, she was sure of it, and it was all because of what she’d witnessed on the tarmac between Donald Bainbridge and the cartel. Donald wanted to make certain she never told anyone he was a rotten, disgusting drug dealing scumbag.
If something happened to Wyatt, she wasn’t sure how she would cope. He’d become the most important person in her life, as vital as the air she breathed. She’d mourn him for the rest of her life…assuming she lived through the ordeal. If something happened to her, she didn’t want him to spend his life mourning her. That was why she didn’t want him making a grand declaration of love. Wrong time, wrong place.
She wished Maggie was here to give her advice. Her former roommate was wise and would know exactly what to do in any situation. She’d been the office manager of COBRA Securities, but knew she wanted to become an agent. She’d worked her butt off to prove herself, stepping out of her two Navy SEAL brothers’ shadows to shine. She could do anything she set her mind to, and Amelia trusted her with her deepest secrets, knowing Maggie would never betray a confidence. Yet she hadn’t confessed her feelings for Wyatt. She wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because if she said the words aloud, it would make them real. Or maybe it was because Maggie was so deliriously happy with her wonderful husband Carter, Amelia knew she’d push for the same kind of relationship for her. And she wanted it. She longed for what Maggie and Carter, Noah and Peyton, Ethan and Esme and the rest of the COBRA Securities couples shared. They’d each found their perfect partners, the person who completed them. Amelia had, too, she just hadn’t admitted it to anyone, even herself.
It was pitch black inside the windowless room, but Wyatt’s arms anchored her to reality. She rolled until they were face to face, even if she couldn’t see his expression.
Without a Trace (COBRA Securities Book 18) Page 15
