by J Theron
Carlos looked contrite. “I did that for you.”
She was appalled. “I don’t want someone’s death on my conscience!”
He sighed. “That will change. I promise you. I’m sorry you had to suffer. I came as soon as I heard, but I was in Bogotá and it took me a while to get here. It seems my men think they can do whatever they want when I’m away. All the idiots responsible are now dead,” he said matter-of-factly.
She had to breathe deeply not to let her alarm at his statement show. Her bravado from earlier suddenly deserted her. “So this wasn’t your idea?” she asked carefully, not wanting to antagonize him further, and afraid that she had already said too much.
“God no! What kind of man do you take me for?” he asked and managed to sound offended.
Gabrielle knew Carlos well. She met him for the first time when she did an emergency appendectomy on his beloved fifteen year old sister just after she started working in the small village hospital. She saved Maria’s life and since then Carlos had always treated her with respect, but she did not trust him. He was a ruthless murderer and no matter how charming he was, he was still the most dangerous of criminals.
“Are you here to let me go?” she asked tentatively.
“Alas, we have a bit of a situation, Doctor Durand,” he replied. He stood and pulled her to a standing position.
“Come to my house and I’ll explain everything,” he continued.
She gently pulled her hand from his grasp and followed him wearily to the jeep parked outside the hut. She had to steel herself when she had to step over the two dead bodies lying face down in the dirt outside the hut. She could see both had head wounds and were most definitely dead. She had lost count of how many dead bodies she had seen during the course of her medical career, but it remained disturbing in the extreme.
She did not speak as they drove the short distance to the other side of the compound to the impressive double storey brick house serving as his headquarters. The compound consisted of an enclosed structure with barbed wire fence patrolled by armed guards. There were wooden houses scattered throughout the compound, housing the men and sometimes their families. She had only been inside a few times, soon after she arrived in Colombia.
She still remembered the first time she met Carlos. His men came to the hospital in the middle of the night and forced her to come to the house to examine Maria, Carlos’s baby sister, whom he worshipped by all accounts. Carlos was frantic because Maria had severe abdominal pain and fever and was becoming confused.
When Gabrielle examined her, she had severe peritonitis and signs of septicemia and Gabrielle suspected a ruptured appendix. She was too unstable to risk transport to a bigger hospital and Gabrielle convinced Carlos to let her operate. Maria pulled through although it was touch and go for a few days with Gabrielle never leaving her side for almost forty eight hours. Gabrielle chose not to think what would have happened to her if Maria had died.
Since then she had a tentative relationship with Carlos. The cartel members were troublemakers in the village, but they never bothered her after that and they left the small hospital alone, with the understanding that if one of their men were injured they would get immediate care.
She watched as Carlos climbed down and walked around to her side to help her out. She followed him without saying anything, all the while trying to think how she was going to get herself out of this situation, which she could tell was explosive and unpredictable. She didn’t trust the concern he had shown her and she waited for everything to go to hell.
Carlos approached the two men standing guard outside the main entrance to his house and stopped abruptly to bark in Spanish, “Remove the bodies of the three dead fuckers at the hut where we keep our guests and get someone to take your place here before you leave.”
He watched them scramble for a few seconds and then turned his back on the men, effectively dismissing them from his mind after he was satisfied they were following his orders.
She followed him into the house and was surprised when he led the way to his study. She knew that was where he conducted his business and you were not allowed inside unless you were in business with Carlos.
“Please sit down, Gabrielle,” he said as he pointed to one of the wingback chairs in front of the large mahogany desk.
One whole wall had a floor to ceiling library and she was surprised at her own interest in the books he read. She knew he had studied chemical engineering at MIT before he came back to take over his father’s business. She absentmindedly wondered if his knowledge came in handy during the production of his product.
He walked to the cabinet filled with expensive bourbon, brandy and whisky from all over the world. He poured her a shot of Drambuie without asking her what she preferred and she was taken aback that he knew what her favourite drink was. She chose not to comment when he placed it on the desk in front of her before he took a seat behind his desk. She found the whole scenario surreal and had to fight the worsening feeling of panic.
“What’s going on, Carlos? Why can’t I go home?”
“Because the CIA suspects that my men took you,” he replied in a casual tone.
She stared at him, her drink forgotten in her hand. “What are you going to do with me?”
His face was impassive and she had the distinct feeling he was studying her. “If you were anybody else you would’ve been dead, and your body dumped with a rival cartel, all evidence pointing to them and not us. I don’t need the CIA on my back. I get enough shit from the Colombian military already. ”
“Why haven’t you killed me years ago? I know who you are,” she said, trying to sound calm, but she suspected she was failing.
“So does half of Colombia, love, but you have no evidence. I haven’t killed you because you saved my sister, the only person on this earth who loves me since my mother was murdered, and because it would be a sin to kill a beautiful woman who is actually worth more than a casual fuck.”
She stared at him wide-eyed. “We’re at an impasse then, it seems. You don’t want to kill me, but you can’t let me go.”
“That is correct, Doctor Durand. As much as I like you, I don’t think this will all just disappear when I let you go. It’s difficult to hide the fact that the only surgeon in the village is missing. I have to decide what to do to appease your father,” he replied.
“My father?” she asked casually.
“The director of the CIA. Did you think I would let an American doctor into my village without knowing all there is to know about her?”
She was speechless. She was scared before, but now the gravity of the situation dawned on her. “I’m impressed,” she said. “Not even the CIA knows about me. My father went to great lengths to protect me from situations like this.”
“I’m the only one in my organization who has this information, if that makes you feel better,” he said, sitting back in his chair and casually taking a sip from the whisky in his hand.
“I don’t know, should it?”
“If my men knew, you wouldn’t have survived beyond day one. Apart from two of my men arrested in Miami recently, there are eleven more rotting in American prisons. I bet your father could get them released to save his only child.”
Gabrielle took the glass of Drambuie and took a sip. She looked him in the eye and said, “I quote the U.S. Government Policy. The U.S. Government will make no concessions to terrorists holding official or private U.S. citizens hostage. It will not pay ransom, release prisoners, change its policies, or agree to other acts that might encourage additional terrorism.”
Carlos smiled. “Sometimes I forget that you’re a smart girl. I have to admit I think my men took you more for sport than anything else. They get bored sometimes.”
“My father will leave no stone unturned to find me. Surely you’re aware of that. He has at his disposal the whole of the CIA and all its resources.”
He nodded. “I’m very aware of that, Doctor, which brings us back to our current conundru
m.”
Gabrielle was silent as she thought about what Carlos had said. She looked at her hands and realized they were dirty and her clothes were stained. “Can I at least have a bath and some clean clothes?”
“Of course, where are my manners? I will arrange it at once and you can be a guest in my living quarters.”
She did not for one second believe that she was a guest, but she went along with it until she could find a way to escape. “Thank you, Carlos,” she answered and tried to sound as sincere as possible.
He rose from his chair and waited for her to exit the door of his study before he casually walked up the stairs to his main living quarters. The house was quiet, but she was not fooled into thinking they were alone. She knew the guards were all around them, carefully hidden from view. She counted five surveillance cameras as they walked through the house and she knew they were monitored with an electronic surveillance system that was state of the art.
The bedroom was elegant with dark wood furniture and Persian rugs on the floor. The en-suite bathroom was luxurious with marble tiles and a huge shower and bath. She was studying the bedroom, weighing her options, when Carlos turned to her and said, “I will bring you some clean clothes. You and Maria seem to be about the same size. Please make yourself at home.”
He walked through the bedroom door and closed it behind him. She heard a click and she knew he locked the door. She quickly rushed to the windows and stood back abruptly when she looked down and saw three guards stationed on the ground underneath each window of the large bedroom. There was no way she could climb down without being noticed.
She walked back to the bathroom and was relieved to see that the door could be locked from the inside. There were clean towels and robes and she realized she was dying to shower and wash the dirt of the filthy hut from her body.
She quickly locked the door and peeled the dirty scrubs from her body. It felt like heaven when she stepped into the shower and she washed herself with the masculine smelling liquid soap until her skin felt raw. She felt a thousand times better when she stepped out of the shower and rummaged through the bathroom cabinets until she found an unopened toothbrush and some toothpaste.
She was dressed in a robe when she opened the door and was startled to find Carlos in one of the upholstered chairs in the bedroom. He had turned the chair to face the bathroom door and he was sitting quietly, sipping his whisky.
“Carlos, you scared the shit out of me!”
“I’m sorry, Doctor. Just making sure you have everything you need,” he replied casually.
She grabbed the front of the robe and pulled it tight. “I would appreciate some clean clothes.”
He gestured to the large four poster bed and the clothes piled on the immaculate white linen. “It’s all there. I even managed to find some clean underwear. I bought it for a girlfriend, but I tired of her before I could give it to her.”
“Where is she now? Your girlfriend, I mean?” she asked as she started to rummage through the pile of jeans and T-shirts.
“Dead. Like all my ex-girlfriends,” he replied calmly.
She looked up and noticed he was watching her with an amused expression on his face. “That’s not funny, Carlos.”
“I’m not trying to be funny,” he replied.
She grabbed a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt along with some very expensive lingerie straight from a Victoria’s Secret catalogue and slammed the bathroom door behind her to get dressed.
When she emerged he was still sitting in the same chair, seemingly content to watch her every move. She felt like a trapped animal in the confined space of his bedroom. His presence seemed to fill every inch and she was desperate to get away from him.
“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” she asked.
“Usually I go to bed this time of night,” he replied. “And this is my bedroom, so I guess this is where I have to be.”
She nodded. “Okay, fine. No problem. Just show me my bedroom and we can go to bed.”
“This is your bedroom.”
She took a few steps back and put her hands in the air. “No. No! I will not sleep in the same room as you.”
He watched her with a speculative look on his face. “I know you won’t believe me, but it’s probably the safest place in the house.”
“And why is that?”
“Let’s just say my men don’t understand the meaning of the word no, and leave it at that, shall we?”
“And you’re the perfect gentleman.”
He grinned at her. “I have never had to force myself on any woman. They always, always come willingly. No pun intended.”
She rolled her eyes and could not help but smile. She did not trust Carlos, but for some strange reason she had occasionally wondered if there was something redeemable about him. She could not put her finger on it, but something about him fascinated her. Always have. She knew it was crazy and that she should have her head examined.
“That’s just great, Carlos.”
He downed the last bit of whisky in his glass and rose from the chair with languid grace. “You’re welcome to stand around all night, but I’m going to bed.”
He walked to the massive walk-in closet and rifled through one of the drawers to pull out a pair of boxer shorts. He proceeded to undress and she turned her back because the last thing she wanted to see was Carlos naked.
She was pretending to look at one of the paintings on the wall when he spoke directly behind her. He was so close she could smell his cologne and she had to concentrate not to let him know how much his presence disconcerted her.
“You can turn around now,” he whispered close to her ear. “I’m decent, sort off.”
She turned around and took a step back until she backed into the wall. She desperately wanted to put some distance between herself and Carlos. He was only wearing a pair of dark blue boxer shorts which was riding low on his hips. His body was magnificent, with muscular arms and legs, and a flat stomach with rippling abdominal muscles. He towered over her and his presence was overwhelming.
“Stand back,” she whispered.
He placed both his hands on the wall behind her head, trapping her. “Why? Do I make you nervous, Doctor Durand?”
She placed her hands on his chest and pushed him back with force. “I said, stand back!”
He smiled and stood back. She suspected even if she pushed with all her might, she would not have been able to move him an inch if he did not want to move.
“I’m sleeping in the bed. You can sleep wherever you want,” he said. “And just so that you don’t get any ideas, the door is locked and the key is here.” He patted on the front of his boxer shorts and grinned.
“I will try to escape as soon as your back is turned,” she replied.
“I know. It will be a mistake. I don’t feel like shooting someone else in the head tonight,” he said, his face inscrutable.
She was too stunned to move as he walked to the bed, swiped the remaining clothes unceremoniously to the floor and got under the covers.
He turned his back to her and murmured, “Turn out the light when you’re done standing there like a statue.”
“Go to hell,” she murmured.
He chuckled. “I’m already there, love.”
She looked around the room and decided to lie down on the carpet at the foot of the bed. She grabbed some cushions from the bed, turned out the light and lied down. She did not mind sleeping on the floor. She had slept in much worse places. She knew she had to rest because she would not be able to plan her escape if she wasn’t thinking clearly. The last thing she remembered before falling asleep was the thought that there was more to Carlos than met the eye.
CHAPTER 4
Gabrielle sat up abruptly and she was immediately awake and alert. It was morning and she guessed it to be about seven o’clock. She was stunned to find that she was in the bed and not on the floor.
A quick glance around the room confirmed that she was alone. She vaguely remembered
strong arms lifting her from the floor, before placing her gently in the bed. Obviously she had not dreamt it. She must have been more tired than she realized for Carlos to carry her to bed without waking completely. At least she was still wearing her jeans and T-shirt and he had not made any attempt to undress her.
The articles of clothing that Carlos brought the previous night were neatly folded on the chair next to the bed. She grabbed a clean change of clothes and underwear and proceeded to have a quick shower. She half expected to find Carlos in the room when she came out and was annoyed to find a plate with toast and black coffee, without sugar, instead. She did not even want to know how he knew what she usually ate for breakfast.
She tried the door and was not surprised to find it locked. She looked through the window and the guards were there, different men but same place. She ate the breakfast quickly and then sat down in the chair. She had to find a way to get out of there.
She scanned the room for anything that might help her when her eyes fell on the small desk in the corner of the bedroom. It had two drawers and she immediately rushed to pull them open. They were empty except for an embossed writing pad, a fountain pen and a letter opener. She removed the letter opener and slipped it into the back of her jeans underneath her T-shirt.
Next she lifted every painting in the room to see if there was a hidden safe or compartment, but she did not find anything. His closet held nothing but clothes and the room was strangely devoid of anything personal. She stood in the middle of the room and pushed her hand through her hair in agitation when the bedroom door opened and Carlos stepped in. He was dressed in cargo pants and a light blue button down shirt and it was the first time she saw him in something other than a designer suit.
“Did you find anything interesting?” he asked as he closed the door behind him. He smiled and looked at the corner of the room closest to the door. It was then that she saw a tiny camera, tucked away in the corner close to the roof, which was almost invisible in the elaborate cornices. She swore silently and crossed her arms, ignoring his question. “I want to go home. Please!”
