Hush

by Cherry Adair

  She waved her bound hands in front of her face and tried to move ahead of him. It gave her a little comfort being sandwiched between two big, strong guys.

  Pinhead-tiny black bugs swarmed in lazy circles inches in front of her nose. Pulling out her insect repellent now would only get her gear confiscated, or worse, subject her to a more thorough search. A large red-and-green-striped leaf sprang out into her path, and she used her knee to push it aside, then scratched an itch on her cheek as something bit her.

  “You don’t look like the type who’d BASE-jump the falls,” Zak said, sounding annoyed, as if her presence there was an affront to him personally. “What the hell are you doing in Venezuela?”

  Acadia resented the implication that she wasn’t the bold, daring type. “Looks can be deceiving,” she told him mockingly. Hoping like hell she didn’t—“What else would I be doing here?”—lie. Nerves, damn it.

  “You were going to jump the falls?” He sounded insultingly disbelieving, but she didn’t glance back to see his expression.

  “I was waiting for my guide. He was picking me up later this morning. Now, I suppose.” God. She wished she’d stop doing that. It was a ridiculous defense mechanism she’d thought she’d outgrown, from when she was an insecure kid. Apparently not. Zakary Stark brought out the worst in her. Which was unfortunate as hell, since she was stuck with him for the duration.

  “Is that right? Venezuela’s a damned dangerous place for a woman to visit alone.”

  “That’s very unenlightened of you. Isn’t Venezuela a dangerous place for a man to come to alone?” Judging by the scars on his body, he’d been to some very dangerous places already.

  “Yeah. It is. And as I recall, I didn’t come alone.” Heat rushed to her cheeks at his oh-so-obvious double entendre. But he saved her the embarrassment of floundering for a response as he added, “As it so happens, I traveled here with my brother.”

  She cleared her throat. “Well, I was expecting five friends to fly in later this morning. I wasn’t planning on—” Don’t say it! “—being alone for long. They’re going to freak out when they arrive and I’m not there.”

  An understatement. Shelli, Sharon, Julia, Amber, and Natasha were going to be frantic. They’d practically strong-armed her onto the plane because Acadia hadn’t wanted to be this daring. Sure, she’d reluctantly agreed to step out of her comfort zone, but she’d imagined they’d all go to New York, or maybe be wild and crazy and take a trip to Aruba and be served umbrella drinks at the pool by tanned cabana boys.

  Sharon, the boldest of her friends, had dared the group to go to Venezuela. The next thing Acadia knew, she was paying a fortune for the tickets and accepting the itinerary from well-organized Julia. She’d known before her brandnew Cypress Ion WPi waterproof hiking boots touched the ground in Caracas yesterday morning that she was having a mid-something crisis and way in over her head. But by then it was too late to chicken out and turn back.

  Zak shrugged, powerful shoulders moving in her peripheral vision. “Your friends will put two and two together and go to the authorities.”

  Nice of him to sound half-assed confident, but Acadia was pretty sure that wouldn’t achieve anything. The police in Venezuela were pretty much as corrupt as the plethora of kidnappers in the country. They’d go to the American embassy and hope someone there could help. Then they’d run out of money and options and return home to see what they could do from there.

  She fell silent, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other in the knee-high grass. As it got hotter, moisture on the foliage evaporated into a steamy hothouse fog that caught in her lungs and made sweat pour down her face. She felt around in one of the pockets on the outside of her pants, checked on the position of the guards—Zak met her eyes as she glanced behind her, and shifted subtly to block their view of her—and surreptitiously pulled out a flat packet of moist towelettes.

  “Thanks,” she murmured. Plucking one wipe out of the package, she carefully restuck the seal and shoved it back into the hidden pocket, her mind returning once more to her friends as she wiped her face and throat. They would blame themselves, she knew. They’d go to the police first. Then they’d freak. Natasha’s father had served with Acadia’s dad at Fort Riley. When Natasha realized there was no trace of her friend, she’d call in the cavalry. Literally.

  “Perhaps they’ll think you went off with some local guy,” Zak offered after too long a silence.

  Acadia choked back a laugh. “Not in a trillion years.” It wouldn’t even cross their minds that she might be with some handsome Latin American man having a wild adventure. Going off with strange men wasn’t who Acadia Alyssa Gray was. She was the leave-the-kids-with-Acadia-on-Friday-night kind of friend. She was predictable, reliable, and, she hated to admit, boring.

  “Not that far from the truth,” he corrected, which annoyed the hell out of her.

  “You don’t have to sound so smug about it,” she retorted waspishly. “It was hardly a red-letter day on my calendar.”

  “Really? You pick up men in bars all the time, do you?”

  “Isn’t that like asking someone if they’ve stopped beating their wife?”

  He chuckled.

  Gideon gave a muffled snort of laughter too. His white T-shirt was sweat-stained and blotched green from the leaves they were pushing through.

  “Great, so happy I can amuse you guys.” She applied the now warm, moist cloth to her hot cheeks. The mild antiseptic stung the abrasions on her skin, but it smelled fresh. She used it on her hands and as far up her arms as she could maneuver her bound wrists. She wished she could wash the blood off her skin, then pulled her thoughts back from the abyss. Blood splatter on her back was the least of her problems right now.

  She tucked the used wipe into another pocket. No littering for Acadia Gray. Even while being kidnapped. Follow the rules. Do the right thing. Acadia felt a giggle bubble up in her chest, and ruthlessly tamped down the urge. This was no laughing matter, and she wasn’t entirely sure that she’d be able to stop laughing if she started.

  “What else do you have in those hidden pockets?” Zak asked.

  The whole point of hidden pockets was that they were freaking hidden. None of the soldiers had bothered to pat her down, thanks to their scary boss. If he talked about what she was carrying, someone was sure to want to see exactly what it was. “How do you know I have pockets?”

  “Unless you’re a magician planning on pulling a rabbit out of your ass, I’m presuming the aspirin from earlier and that wipe were secreted in that outfit you’re wearing. What else is in there? Cough everything up, Miss Gray. Our lives might depend on whatever you’re carrying.”

  “You want me to dump everything on the ground right now?” Acadia was rapidly discovering a hidden talent for sarcasm just as pointed as his.

  “No. But once it makes sense, I want to inventory everything you brought.” He paused. “How heavy are your clothes?”

  “An extra eighteen pounds, that’s all.” Although, after walking for what seemed like days, the weight seemed to be increasing with every step. “I have just about everything we might need,” she admitted, sotto voce. “Except, unfortunately, a weapon.”

  He came up right beside her, his arm brushing hers. “You’d be surprised what can be made into one.”

  “I know how to make a shiv.” How hard could it be?

  His smile widened. It didn’t reach his eyes, but he showed his white teeth and a dent of a dimple in his lean right cheek. “Ah. Learned no doubt while you were incarcerated for your life of crime.”

  “I’m a quick study.” Make of that what you like, smart-ass.

  “I’m starting to think you just might have hidden depths,” he said dryly.

  They walked for about five minutes while she mulled that over, then she blurted, “I don’t. Have any hidden depths, that is.” Honest to God, she could keep lying, but in this scenario it wasn’t in her best interests to mislead him. She had no idea what—if anything�
��he was planning, but making him think her capable of things she was incapable of doing would be not only stupid but hellishly dangerous as well. “Look, I’m not exactly what you think I am—”

  “A pretty woman way the hell out of her depth?”

  “Yes. That.” He thought she was pretty? “Wait, no, I am exactly that. Out of my depth, I mean,” she admitted. “I wasn’t exactly honest last night. I’m not an exotic dancer. I work at Jim’s Sporting Goods store in Junction City, Kans—”

  “Kansas?” His laugh sounded rusty, and he stopped to stare at her. His eyes looked very green and were deceptively filled with laughter. Clearly a trick of the light.

  Acadia scowled. “Yes, Kansas. What’s so funny?”

  He started walking again before the guards could prod him. “Keep moving. Nothing, Dorothy.”

  Infuriating man. “You weren’t held as a baby, were you?”

  “I have pictures.”

  Acadia made a rude noise. “Obviously Photoshopped.”

  Gideon chuckled as he shoved enormous, leathery leaves out of his way, then held them so she could pass. “Zak was born sparring.”

  He’d clearly had plenty of practice. Acadia changed the subject. “Kidnapping is a pervasive problem in Venezuela, were you aware of that when you came?” She’d read about it, but of course had thought it wouldn’t apply to her. For God’s sake, she had no idea how she could have ignored the compelling statistics and the probability of being kidnapped herself. In for a penny, in for a pound. “I don’t want to sound like I’m lecturing you or anything,” she added, “but it’s good to know some facts. Caracas has one of the highest per capita homicide rates in the world.”

  “Fortunately,” Zak murmured, his voice Sahara dry, “we’re not in Caracas at the moment.”

  “And it’s even higher in outlying areas where there’s no pretense of law and order.”

  “Aren’t you a font of information.” He didn’t sound like a fan.

  “I am, actually,” she replied, unperturbed. “They even have a National Counter Kidnapping Commission. In fact—” Now she remembered the data, anyway—“In fact, kidnappings have increased from forty to over sixty percent in the last year alone. And that’s just the ones reported to the police. Most aren’t.” Because, reported or not, the kidnappers were rarely caught, and even then, rarely charged.

  Zak said nothing as he dropped a step behind her, so she continued hopefully, “It’s unlikely that they’d walk us all this way just to kill us later, right?” Pointless to mention that the guerrillas could do worse than kill them. He’d know that.

  “I imagine they’ll hold us until the ransom is paid.”

  “Hold” didn’t mean gently. The way the one called Eloy had been looking at her when he shoved her out of the van didn’t bode well. “About that …” Now would probably be a good time to tell him just why he and his brother were being dragged willy-nilly through the jungle with her.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said, using his bound hands to brush a small green lizard off his shoulder. “Gideon and I will figure something out.”

  “There are three of us involved here,” she pointed out. “But in the interest of full disclosure, I have to tell you why we’re here. It’s because—”

  “Save it.”

  Acadia understood the situation wasn’t optimal, but did he have to be so rude? She rubbed her cheek on her shoulder, retorting, “For what? Candles and dinner?”

  “Until we’re alone or can’t be overheard. Get Gideon’s attention for me.”

  They were walking single file. With her hands bound at the wrist, Acadia used her fingertips to poke Gideon Stark in the back, but he turned around so fast, and with such fury in his eyes, she fell back a step and bumped into Zak’s chest.

  “Easy,” Zak said, steadying her with his forearm against her shoulder.

  “Sorry,” she told Gideon. He wasn’t looking at her, but rather at his brother, who was right over her shoulder. Acadia could feel the tension coming off the two men in waves. Like her they were stressed; she just hoped they didn’t do anything stupid in this volatile situation.

  “Look. Don’t engage these people, okay? I’ll just tell them how to access the money, and I’m sure”—Not in a zillion years—“that they’ll let us go.”

  “How could you … What money?” Gideon Stark scowled, then continued walking. A flying insect the size of Acadia’s fist landed on his back. The iridescent blackish green bug was a millimeter from the exposed skin of his neck. She shuddered.

  “There’s a Godzilla-size insect on your—Yes. There—okay. It’s gone. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you guys for the past hour.” She hadn’t, but she should have. “I’m the reason they grabbed you. I’m really, really sorry.”

  “You’re the reason?” Zak asked, sounding incredulous. “Who are you? Head of State? Rock star … Not an actress.”

  “I work—Why not an actress?”

  “Because you can’t act worth a damn.”

  “Funny,” Acadia said lightly, “that’s not what Spielberg said.”

  His lips twitched. “Steven Spielberg?”

  “Who else?” Well, Michael Spielberg, her eighth-grade math teacher, who could never tell when she was fibbing, even when he knew she was. It hadn’t been a compliment as much as a statement about him.

  Acadia lowered her voice and slowed her steps so he could hear her. She hoped her voice wouldn’t carry. Though the kidnappers must have a pretty good idea how much she was worth; otherwise why bother kidnapping her? “I won five hundred thousand in the Kansas lottery two months ago.”

  “Ah,” Zak responded. A lot less interested, or relieved, than she’d expected.

  “I still have most of it,” Acadia assured him quickly, just in case he was worried she couldn’t pay at least a portion of what the kidnappers were asking. “I paid for this trip of course, for myself and five of my friends, and—”

  “This isn’t about you.”

  She tromped through a thicket of leaves and vines to give that a moment to sink in. A toucan high on an overhead branch tilted its yellow head to watch them pass. She stepped over a pile of branches and leaves that the men up ahead had sliced to clear the path. “Wow,” she finally said, surprised. “That’s pretty rude considering the circumstances. I know kidnapping is the national pastime here, but I suspect they knew who I was when they burst into my room instead of yours. Do you guys have half a million dollars?” she added sarcastically.

  Gideon chuckled and continued walking.

  “Gid and I own ZAG,” Zak informed her.

  It took her a moment. ZAG? The multigazillion-dollar online search engine? “Oh.” Here she was, feeling guilty as hell, and all the time she was the one who’d been inadvertently scooped up in their kidnapping. “Then I guess you owe me an apology.”

  “At this point, your lotto score is pretty worthless. As you say, kidnapping is big business in South America. They’ve already set a ransom demand at forty mil for me and my brother, and they don’t care that you’re just collateral damage. Loida Piñero set the same price on your head.”

  “Forty million?” That was so far above what she now thought of as her meager winnings that it didn’t even seem real.

  “Wait a minute … Loida Piñero? I presume that’s the name of Cruella de Vil, scary leader of the pack? How do you know her name?” Acadia demanded, sidetracked.

  “She told us.”

  “That’s not good. She doesn’t care that the three of us have seen her face and those of her men, and she told you her name? That doesn’t bode well for our chances of survival.”

  “Don’t worry about it. They’ll contact our people to make their demand.”

  “Don’t worry about it? I’m blond, not Pollyanna. I’m plenty worried. With just cause.” Blondes might have more fun, but she should’ve told her hairdresser to give her screaming red kick-butt hair instead of foils. Right now she needed the courage of a redhead and the sophisti
cation of a brunette. She was feeling her mousy hair right now.

  “We’ll be out of here as soon as the ransom’s paid.”

  “Liar,” she said without heat. She tamped down the fear bubbling up inside her. Freaking out and panicking weren’t productive. This situation needed a clear head, and some ingenuity. And while she hoped Zak and Gideon Stark could come up with a viable plan to get them safely out of the jungle, Acadia was too used to taking care of business to trust her life to two men she didn’t know. “As soon as they get the money, we’ll be redundant, won’t we?”

  And then it clicked. From somewhere in the vast filing cabinet of her brain, she remembered the headlines. The outcry, even brief as it was in the never-ending run of bad news that filled the media every day.

  In stark, bold letters, the headline flashed across her memory: ZAG OWNER LOSES WIFE IN TRAGIC ACCIDENT.

  The brothers’ argument in the van now made a bit more sense. It had barely registered as a blip on her radar at the time. So, Zak Stark had lost his wife. Tragic. But why did his brother have strong issues about it? Jennifer Stark had been an investigative reporter for CNN; if Acadia remembered the news correctly, she’d been killed in some war-torn country a couple of years ago. Acadia tried to remember what she’d read, desperately rifling through what few facts she’d gleaned at the time, but she didn’t recall more than a few headlines.

  “Redundant or not,” Zak said evenly, “Gideon and I will get you out of here.”

  She hoped he could. But just in case that didn’t happen, Acadia was trying to come up with an escape plan of her own. Planning, practicality, and adaptation were her strengths. They were attributes she’d needed when she’d continually changed schools. New teachers, new kids to make friends with, new everything. She’d had to draw on those same strengths when she’d had to deal with her father’s diminishing capacity.

  If she could just sit down somewhere cool and quiet for a while, she knew she would come up with some sort of plan. Too bad cool, quiet, and seated were out of the question for the moment. So be it. She had several ideas. None of them feasible. Yet.