“Here comes your doctor lady.” Gator nodded toward Natalie. “You’d better go.”
Jack pushed through the colorfully dressed women and men, his locked gaze on Natalie, while he watched in his peripheral vision for signs of guerillas in disguise.
“Who were you talking to?” Natalie asked when she reached him.
“Someone I know,” Jack responded. “Where are the others? We need to start back to the boat.”
“Why?”
“There might be trouble, and I don’t want you and the team caught in the middle of it.”
Natalie spun. “They were dancing on the other side of the square.” She pointed toward Craig and Daphne. “There’s Dr. Biacowski and Daphne. Mac’s dancing with a woman close to them and Hallie…” She frowned, her head moving as she scanned the crowd.
“Where’s Hallie?” Jack grabbed Natalie’s hand and shoved his way through.
“She was dancing with a man there in the middle just a second ago. I kept an eye on them until…”
“I saw her, too, just a minute ago.”
“She can’t have gone far.” Natalie took the lead, stopping when she reached Mac, Craig and Daphne. “Have you seen Hallie?”
“I thought she was with you.” Mac thanked the woman he’d been dancing with and craned his neck, searching for the missing member of their party. “She was right next to us for a while.”
Jack had a sinking feeling. “Wait here.” He stepped away from the medical team and scanned the crowd, locating Dustman as the closest of his SEAL team. Touching his finger to the communication device in his ear, he said, “Dustman, I could use your assistance.”
“What’s wrong?” Gator cut in.
“Missing one member of the medical team. The blonde, Hallie Kristofer,” Jack responded. “I need one or two men to escort the remaining medical staff to the boat.”
“You heard the man,” Gator said to the rest of the team online. “Watch out for the young blond woman. Dustman and Irish, help out Fish.”
Dustman straightened and powered his way through the throng toward Jack. From another direction, Irish appeared out of a shadowy corner and swam through the merry-makers.
When they converged on Jack, he turned to the four members of the floating doctor team.
Jack introduced the two men. “No time to explain. These two men are my friends, Dustin and Declan. They will escort you back to the boat.”
Natalie crossed her arms. “Sorry, but I’m not going anywhere without Hallie. We need to be looking for her.”
“Agreed.” Mac glared. “Especially since I have no idea who these goons are.”
Irish grinned and Dustman gave Mac the stink-eye.
If the situation had been different, Jack would have laughed at Mac’s description of his SEAL brothers. “Okay, the short explanation is this: Dustin and Declan are SEALs, here on a mission to find and rescue several men who have been taken captive by the Castillo Commandos. They’re holding them hostage in some undisclosed location we have yet to locate. I—we had reason to believe your team had become the next target of the guerillas.”
“We?” Natalie bit into the word like a pit bull into a bone. “Are you with them?” She turned her stare toward Dustman and Irish. “Is he one of you? A SEAL?”
Dustman shot a glance at Jack.
Irish grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”
Frowning, Natalie turned to Jack. “That’s the secret you were keeping?”
Hearing the condemnation in her tone, Jack nodded.
Natalie’s lips thinned. “It doesn’t matter now. The important thing is to find Hallie.” She turned to the others. “Work in pairs. Don’t lose track of your buddy and stay in sight of the town square.”
“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!” Jack held up his hands. “You are not going to find her yourselves. Dr. Rhoades, you and your team are in danger. Go back to the Nightingale and stay put until you hear from me.”
“You might be a SEAL, but you’re not my boss, and I don’t take orders from you. One of my team is missing. I’m not returning to my boat until we find her.”
Dustman and Irish’s eyes widened and they glanced at Jack.
“She’s right, you know,” Dustman commented.
“I could throw her over my shoulder and carry her back to the dock.” Irish rubbed his hands together.
Mac stepped between Jack and Natalie. “I’ll stay with Dr. Rhoades. The more people looking for Hallie, the faster we find her.”
“What if the guerillas head out to the boat?” Daphne waved an arm toward the bay. “Steve and the skipper are alone out there.”
Natalie nodded. “And we’re wasting time arguing about it.” She hooked Mac’s arm. “I’m with Mac. You SEALs can escort Daphne and Dr. Biacowski back to the dock, if you want to be helpful. They can help Steve and the skipper defend the boat.”
“We can’t leave without Hallie,” Daphne said.
“Steve and Ronnie need you. We’ll find Hallie.” Natalie gave Daphne and the other doctor a pointed stare. “Please. Go.”
The two weren’t happy, but they let Irish and Dustman march them back to the dock.
Natalie turned away from Jack. “Come on, it’s already been too long since we last saw her.”
“I’m coming with you,” Jack said.
“Do what you want.” Natalie didn’t look backward, only marched forward, her head swiveling right and left, her brows furrowed, her face pale.
Jack could kick himself for taking his focus off the medical team for even a moment. If he hadn’t been so obsessed with their leader, he would have been more alert to signs of trouble.
“The last time I saw Hallie, she was right about here, dancing with who I thought was a nice-looking Honduran local.” Natalie stopped and stared across the crowded square.
Jack searched the tops of the heads of the persons dancing to the lively music. Most had dark hair. The few that didn’t were gray-haired tourists. He turned, searching for the closest escape route from the town square—one a guerilla would use to get Hallie away from the rest fairly quickly. The street behind him was narrow and shadowed. “Stay here, I’m checking out the end of this street.”
“We’re going, too,” Natalie said.
“And if she turns up in the town square, you’ll miss her.” Jack shook his head. “I’m not telling you to stay. I’m asking you to be here in case she shows up.”
Natalie bit down on her lip. “I don’t like just standing still.”
“Then move around, but not far and not away from the crowd. Stay together, and you shouldn’t be accosted. I’ll be right back.”
Jack turned and ran to the end of the street. Looking back over his shoulder, he spotted Natalie and Mac standing on their toes, searching the crowd for Hallie.
The narrow alley ended at a T-intersection. When he turned left, nothing moved. Swinging his glance to the right, he thought he saw someone slip up the alley headed back toward the crowded square. Jack hesitated and glanced toward the square.
Natalie and Mac still stood at the opposite end of the alley by themselves. They’d be fine for just a minute while he checked out the movement.
Racing to the next cross street, Jack turned. Again, a shadowy figure disappeared around the corner, headed back the direction where the doctor and medic had been standing but on a different street.
His heart thrumming against his chest, Jack ran to the end of the alley and out. He turned right, looking across to where he started. He’d been away for maybe a minute, and both Natalie and Mac were gone.
Chapter Seven
‡
When she saw Jack disappear around the corner at the end of the alley, Natalie’s pulse rocketed. He was alone. If the guerillas were out there and they knew he was a SEAL, he could be easily outnumbered. “We should follow him.”
“No,” Mac said. “Keep looking for Hallie.”
Natalie alternated between searching the crowd for Hallie and watching for Jack to reappear. “What if Jac
k gets in trouble?”
“The man’s a SEAL. Which explains his access to expensive weapons.” Mac’s hand shot out and clutched her arm. “I saw blond hair.”
Natalie swung around and stared in the direction Mac was looking.
He grabbed her hand. “Come on.”
Natalie had no choice but to follow or be dragged behind him. “What about Jack?”
“He’ll be okay. If we wait for him to come back, she could be gone,” Mac shouted over his shoulder, running so fast Natalie had trouble matching his pace.
“There!” Mac pointed toward a street that led off the square. “Someone took her down that street.”
Natalie had seen the flash of blond hair, and her blood raced through her veins. “Hallie!” She dropped Mac’s hand, dodged a drunk and ran as fast as she could toward the street. When she reached it, she stopped, her lungs screaming for air. “Where did they go?” she asked.
Mac kept running. “I don’t know, but we can’t lose her now.”
“Mac, wait!” Natalie sucked in a deep breath and tore out after him.
He reached the end of the street before her. It T-junctioned, forcing them to turn right or left, or run straight into the jungle.
Natalie heard a loud crack and a deep grunt as she neared the corner. She was running too fast to come to a quick stop. Mac slumped to the ground in front of her, his body a large obstacle directly in her path.
She planted her feet in the ground, but the gravel slipped beneath her sandals. Her momentum propelled her forward and she toppled over Mac’s inert form, landing with a crash, her head smacking the hard ground.
What little light was left in the dark alley snuffed out.
Jack spoke into his communication device. “I’ve lost Natalie and Mac.”
“What the hell?” Gator said. “I leave you with the easy job, and you lose two more?”
“Cut the crap. I’m serious,” Jack spun in a three-sixty, desperately searching for Natalie. “I don’t see them anywhere.”
“Holy shit, there’s the blonde,” Gator said. “I found the blonde.”
“Good, now find Natalie and Mac.” Jack ran to the next street and peered into the unlit corners. No Natalie. Blood pounding, he ran to the next and the next until he reached the big church at the end of the square.
Gator emerged from the street leading to the right of the church with an arm around Hallie’s waist.
The woman’s hair was disheveled and her makeup smeared, but she was alive, a bruise on one cheek.
“What happened?” Jack demanded.
“The guy I was dancing with maneuvered me over to the side of the crowd and then jerked me onto a dark street. There were two other men who grabbed me and…and.” She swallowed hard on a sob and continued. “They dragged me out into the jungle saying something about a doctor. When I told them I wasn’t a doctor, they stopped and turned back to the crowd.” Hallie’s eyes widened and she looked around Jack. “Where’s Dr. Rhoades?”
Jack’s jaw hardened. “Missing.”
“Oh, my god. They have her?” Hallie burst into tears and flung herself on Gator’s shoulder.
“Can you get her to the Nightingale? If you need it, my jet ski is moored at the dock.”
“I’ll get her there,” Gator assured him.
“Gator, we found one of the medical team,” a voice said into Jack’s ear.
Gator handed Hallie to Jack and cupped a hand over his ear to block out the noise from the band. “Where?”
“At the edge of the jungle on the west side of town. He’s unconscious, but alive.”
He? Jack pushed Hallie back into Gator’s arms and ran down a street to the edge of town. The jungle crept up to the dirt street that bordered Trujillo. He looked both ways and saw a couple of dark figures standing around a lump on the ground and trotted over to the men.
Mac pushed to a sitting position, holding his head in his hands. “Where’s Doc Rhoades?”
“We were hoping you could tell us,” Jack said, as he scanned the area.
“Damn. All I know is I saw someone leading a blonde down this alley. I ran after them and when I got to this point, everything went black.”
Swede stepped forward. “Big Bird found a trail through the jungle. He and Tuck are on it now.”
“Speaking of that trail,” Tuck’s voice said into the headset in Jack’s ear. “It leads to another dirt road. Fresh tire tracks were present.”
Jack stared at Mac, a sick feeling grabbing his stomach. “It appears the boss has been kidnapped.”
“Fuck.” Mac pressed a hand to his head and came back with blood. “Fuck, that hurt.” He glanced up at Jack. “You have to find her.”
Jack nodded, his heart sore. He’d let her down, but he’d make it up to her. “We will find her.”
Natalie came to in pitch blackness. A musty cloth covered her face, and the surface she lay on rocked and rumbled like the bed of a large truck. The smell of dust and vehicle fumes teased her nose. She assumed she’d been loaded into the back of a truck and was being transported. Where they were going, she had no clue. She coughed and tried to move her hands, but they were tied behind her back with what felt like rough hemp rope.
Basically blind and incapacitated, she could either lie there and await her fate or try to escape her confines. Natalie pulled her knees against her chest and tried to roll up onto them. The truck hit a big bump and she sprawled out over the metal floor with a frustrated grunt. After several attempts, she finally maneuvered her way into a kneeling position, but she couldn’t get the bag off her head. She assumed it was still dark outside because no light came up through the bottom edges of the bag.
Trying everything she could think of, she couldn’t shake the bag from her head. Eventually, the truck jerked to a stop. Muffled shouts erupted outside the vehicle. The words sounded like Spanish, but were spoken so fast, Natalie couldn’t translate.
Metal clanked against metal like a tailgate dropping. Someone climbed up in the back of the truck beside her, grabbed her arm and dragged her to the edge.
Two sets of meaty hands hooked her beneath the arms and pulled her out of the truck to stand in slippery mud that oozed around the edges of her sandals, covering her feet. The air smelled of fresh rain and decaying vegetation, thick and humid like in the deepest jungle.
Gray light shone from the bottom of her hood. Natalie wondered how long she’d been out. Was it morning or the next evening?
A gruff voice spoke, “Traerla!”
The big hands half-guided and half-dragged her several yards. Natalie bumped into what she assumed was a doorway, and she was shoved into a building. The first thing that hit her was the smell of vomit and feces. Feet shuffled nearby and someone coughed, a weak, pathetic sound.
Straining to see what little she could, Natalie tried to keep calm and figure a way out of the mess she’d landed in.
Her escort ripped the hood from her head, and she blinked in the sudden light from a camping lantern set on a nearby table. Two women stood to one side, their hair pulled back in long braids. They wore long skirts with aprons tied over them and stared, wide-eyed.
The men on either side of her could have been bouncers at any Honduran nightclub. Their more likely occupation was terrorists belonging to the Castillo Commandos Jack had talked about.
Natalie shivered at the sight of the military rifles they carried slung over their shoulders and the pistols they held pointed at her.
The man on her left jerked his pistol, motioning her forward.
One wall of the cramped room was completely filled by a small bed. A man lay in it, his face pale, sallow and covered with perspiration. Buried in roughly woven blankets, he shook so hard, the wooden headboard rattled against the wall.
The doctor in Natalie ticked off the symptoms. Chills, vomiting and diarrhea. Symptoms that could belong to a number of diseases or sicknesses.
The man beside her spoke rapid-fire Spanish, once again too fast for Natalie to transla
te. She did pick up on a name. Ramon.
The man in the bed opened his eyes and turned his head toward her. He lifted his hand and motioned her closer.
Natalie inched forward.
When she stood beside the bed, the man closed his eyes again and spoke in halting English. “I am sick.”
“Yes, it appears you are,” she said, without leaning down to examine him or to touch him in anyway.
“What is it? Can you cure me?”
He opened his eyes again, and she could see that they were bloodshot, the whites a dull yellow.
Possibly malaria. Natalie shrugged. “Not without diagnostic tools and medication. And of course, I can’t help you at all with my hands tied.”
Ramon mumbled something.
One of the goons untied her wrists while the other left and came back a moment later with a large wooden box. He dumped it on the floor and flung open the lid. Inside was a jumble of medical equipment, medications and a stethoscope lying in haphazard array as if they’d been thrown in.
After rubbing her hands together to regain dexterity, Natalie lifted one of the bottles of medicine and noted the date and manufacturer. This was one of the medicines she’d delivered to the hospital in Trujillo. Keeping her expression neutral, she hoped none of the staff members had been harmed in the theft of the items.
One of the items in the box was a microscope with several glass slides, some of which were broken. With the microscope were several of the Rapid Diagnostic Test cards she’d left with the doctor.
She pulled the microscope, slides and RDTs out carefully and laid them on a small wooden table in the corner. Then she removed the stethoscope and a bottle of rubbing alcohol and quickly cleaned the earpieces and the chest piece. She examined the patient and added respiratory difficulties to the list of symptoms. Leaning back, she stared down into the man’s eyes. “Without a blood workup, I can’t tell you what you have. I need a blood sample. And even then, I might not have everything here I need.”
The man in the bed reached up and grabbed the necklace around her neck and pulled her down to where they were eye to eye. “If you don’t help me, I will have my men kill you.” He let go and slumped against the mattress.
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