Authors: Lynette Eason
The woman moved behind her and Cassidy held her breath, expecting to feel the knife plunge between her shoulder blades. Instead, there was a slight tug and her hands popped free.
Agonizing pain sucked the air from her lungs as her muscles screamed their protest at the sudden movement. Tears filled her eyes again, but this time she refused to make a sound.
A short grunt brought her attention up to the face in front of her. The woman motioned for her to follow. Cassidy stood, swaying slightly. Her stomach protested, her eye throbbed, her legs shook, but she obeyed. I can do all things…
“Tell me why I’m here, please,” she asked in English with a surprisingly steady voice.
Another grunt answered her.
Cassidy sighed and looked around. No way to escape; no weapon to be found. She had already examined every inch of the small hut and other than a lumpy-looking cot with a blanket, the place was empty.
Once outside the dark hut, the bright sunlight intensified the throbbing in her aching head. She bit her lip. What she wouldn’t give for a sip of water and a painkiller. Rubbing her rope-burned wrists, she stumbled after the woman to a small hill that held—of all things—an outhouse.
Although grateful for the moment of privacy, she wrinkled her nose and held her breath as she finished her business as quickly as possible. She opened the door to find the woman waiting with a small canteen.
“Água.”
The word came out as a grunt, but Cassidy understood. She eagerly grabbed the container, put it to her mouth and drank slowly; small sips to quench her thirst, but not enough to make her sick. The nausea subsided.
“Obrigada,”
she said. Thank you. With a shaky hand, she wiped her mouth and asked in Portuguese, the official language of Brazil, “Who are you?”
“Maria.” Just one word, but at least it wasn’t a grunt.
The woman’s dark eyes never changed from their dull flat expression, but her face softened by a fraction. Again, Maria motioned for Cassidy to follow. Again, Cassidy obeyed. The woman’s girth should have made her clumsy; instead, she moved quietly and gracefully, skirting over the rough ground.
As she followed, Cassidy tried to formulate an escape plan. She had to get out of here. She had to get back to Alexis. The poor baby must be scared to death. All the adults in her life kept deserting her.
But the question was—
where was here?
Cassidy cherished the few precious moments of exercise on the way back to her “prison.” Never in her wildest dreams would she have imagined that her mission of mercy would land her in the middle of a rebel camp deep in the Brazilian Amazon jungle. Confusion reigned.
Why me, Lord?
It wasn’t a complaint, but a sincere question. What did they want with her?
“Eat.
Entende?
”
Cassidy blinked. Yes, she understood.
She entered the hut and noticed a plate full of food on the old cot. Her stomach rumbled, but no way was she sitting on those bug-infested blankets. Cassidy grabbed the plate, made sure no little critters had crawled into the food and moved to the wall beside the door. Eyes on Maria, she slid down to sit on the floor, resting the plate in her lap.
She scooped up a tortilla and took a bite. Warm and surprisingly tasty, the food energized her and she settled back to eat. A canteen of tepid water finished off the meal.
The door to the hut banged open and the vigilant Maria narrowed her eyes as she saw who entered. Cassidy yelped, scrambled to her feet and bolted for the back of the hut, trapped. Terror thudded through her, beating in time with her pulse. He came closer.
Before Rafael could reach her, Maria planted herself in front of Cassidy, silent, yet ready, if necessary. Rafael stopped and glared at the two of them as though judging whether offending the old woman was worth it.
To Cassidy’s relief, he backed toward the door and left without a word. She looked at Maria, “Why?”
“You’re more valuable unharmed right now.”
Cassidy swallowed hard. “Oh.”
March 16
Thursday morning
Gabriel Sinclair patted the pocket of his plaid shirt. The papers crinkled reassuringly. He just hoped he didn’t get killed before he got to show them to
o patrão—
the boss located in the rebel camp just ahead. Gabe’s sleekly muscled arm gave the machete another vicious swing, his anger fueling his strength. How had he managed to get himself talked into this?
One week ago, he’d been minding his own business when the ambassador to Brazil, Jonathan McKnight, had come to him at the hospital, tracking him down in the busy South Carolina emergency room and pulling him away from a patient.
“I need you.”
Curious, wary, Gabe motioned for the nurse to take over, and led the man down the hall to an empty office. He waved a hand toward one of the metal chairs, then Gabe took the chair behind the desk. Once Jonathan was seated, Gabe asked, “What do you need with me?”
He watched the ambassador’s jaw work, the muscles flexing as the man clenched and unclenched his teeth. Something was obviously terribly wrong, but what?
“Cassidy. She’s done a really stupid thing.”
Now,
there
was a surprise, Gabe thought grimly. Cassidy and stupidity just naturally went together, didn’t they?
“She hopped a plane to Brazil and got herself kidnapped.”
“What?” Gabe clenched his fists, his attention fully focused on the man in front of him. That was a little more serious than stupid.
“I need you to get her back.” Ambassador McKnight sat ramrod straight in the chair, his jaw tight, hands resting on his thighs. But his emotionless facade couldn’t cover the turmoil rolling in the man’s green eyes.
“Kidnapped?” Gabe sputtered.
“She was taken from a Brazilian orphanage and is being held somewhere in the jungle. Here.” He pulled a note out of his shirt pocket and shoved it into Gabe’s hand.
Brazilian jungle? Orphanage? Gabe read the note. It was written in Portuguese.
He read aloud as he translated it, “‘We have your daughter. Our boss wishes for you to meet with him. He wishes to learn the secrets of your government. Should you wish to have your
filha bela
returned to you, you will contact us to set up a meeting. You will also refrain from bringing in any police or authorities of any kind. If we even suspect that you have done so, we will send your daughter back to you…in pieces…or sell her to make the profit you denied me.’”
Gabe tried not to picture a terrified Cassidy as he looked up in the ambassador’s eyes. Cassidy’s eyes. “Isn’t there someone else who could help her?”
Jonathan shook his head. “I promise, if there were anyone else, I wouldn’t ask. But you owe me after that last mission…” He trailed off. Micah had been declared dead after the navy heard Gabe’s story. But his testimony had been sealed. He couldn’t tell the family exactly what happened.
Gabe thought to himself,
You have no idea about that last mission.
“Also for Cassidy, I’m asking,” the ambassador finished. The man swallowed hard and stood to pace to the door and back. “I don’t know what will happen to my wife if she finds out about this, not with what happened with Micah. It would probably kill her. Right now, I’m able to stall her. Cassidy’s always running off somewhere. But she’s been gone way longer than usual with no contact for the last two weeks, so pretty soon I’m going to have to tell her mother something. I’ve responded to the kidnappers and managed to set up the meeting. It’s two weeks from today, but I want Cassidy out of there now.”
“What was she doing at a Brazilian orphanage?”
Jonathan shifted his eyes, paced toward the door then back. “I don’t know. She was supposed to be on vacation in Paris.”
Gabe lifted an eyebrow; he had a funny feeling the ambassador knew exactly why Cassidy went to Brazil. Instead he said, “Paris, huh? Tough life.”
Jonathan ignored the sarcasm and narrowed his eyes. “All I know is that I need you to get in there, get her, and get out. I’m home in Spartanburg on leave right now dealing with another situation. Any other time, I would have been in Brazil, but I came home to…” He sighed and trailed off.
Gabe raised an eyebrow in silent inquiry. “Another situation?”
Jonathan swallowed hard and said, “I don’t want to go into detail, but before I became a Christian, I had an affair. Almost thirty years ago. Christina found out recently about it and she’s not dealing with it very well. We’re trying to keep our marriage together. Losing Cassidy would destroy us.”
Gabe blinked and tried to absorb all that the man was saying. He decided to ignore the part about the affair and said, “Why do you think she was taken?”
“It wasn’t mentioned in the letter, but I somehow wonder if this has to do with what I’m working on with the president,” Jonathan said.
“You mean, your stand against human trafficking?”
Jonathan nodded and said, “Cassidy’s been a tremendous help with the entire project.” He shrugged. “Human trafficking is a nine-point-five-billion-dollar-a-year income that goes right into the pockets of criminals and organized-crime groups. Men, women and children sold like cattle to work in sweatshop factories and that’s the best that happens. I can’t imagine the horrors these people live with every day.”
Gabe knew the horrors the man talked about: sexual exploitation, modern-day slavery. It was a profitable enterprise in many parts of the world. Ambassador McKnight had been a huge mover and shaker in putting a lot of these people out of business—or at least putting a dent in their income. And if Cassidy had fallen into their vengeful hands…
He shuddered and stood, unable to complete the thought or sit still any longer. Agitation echoed in each step as he paced around the office. He really couldn’t imagine Cassidy taking the time to be involved in something like politics. It seemed completely out of character for the girl he’d once known. Didn’t match up with the stories Micah had shaken his head over.
Take care of Cassidy.
Gabe shook the words from his head, finally stopped pacing and stared out of the third-floor window. Not bothering to turn, he said, “Sir, no doubt, I owe you.”
More than you realize.
“I would be dead if Senator Graham hadn’t tipped you off to what was going on with that last mission. I still don’t know how you managed to send in that helicopter, I’m just grateful you did. But that part of my life is over now.” And there was nothing on the face of this earth that would make him accept that kind of responsibility again. Except…
Take care of Cassidy.
With what was probably one of his last breaths, Micah had asked him to watch over his sister.
Gabe’s mind flashed. Men scrambling for safety and screaming at him to help. Machine guns popping, the explosion and raging fire.
Death.
And that gun in his ear.
Three, two, one.
Then the ominous
click.
He sucked in a deep breath and forced his thoughts away from those memories. He had yet to face them and get over the guilt of being the only one to survive. Memories had remained buried and questions had gone unanswered for two years. Gabe figured he could go at least another two.
Now this man was asking him to come face-to-face with the demons of his past. For Cassidy. A spoiled little rich girl. He turned from the window to stare at Jonathan. “I know you have enemies, people who would lose big if you and the president succeed in passing certain human-trafficking laws, and it’s possible that’s why they took Cassidy. I know I owe you, but I can’t just leave…” He trailed off weakly, knowing he might as well give up. He was going.
Take care of Cassidy.
“You are the only one who can do this. You know this jungle and you know it well. I don’t have the time to set anything else up. And you can leave. I’ve already checked. You have six weeks of vacation built up. I’ve had all your patients reassigned. So, in fact, you can leave today.”
The ambassador handed him a piece of paper with a name on it. “This guy is your ride in. He’ll have your parachute and rebel identification and the name of your contact. After that, he’s gone and you’re on your own. There’s no team, no backup. Only a supply plane that will land once a week, every Monday, at five in the afternoon, Brazil time, on the little airstrip in the village of La Joya. The pilot is a friend of mine. He’ll wait for two hours each time he lands for the next six weeks. Here’s a map, the name of my contact in Brazil and the approximate location of this rebel camp. Figure out how to infiltrate it and get the job done.”
If it had been anyone else, Gabe might have simply walked away. But this was his father’s best friend, a man who had the president’s ear, a man who was welcome in elite political circles—and the man whose son had died on Gabe’s watch.
He owed it to Micah.
And to Cassidy. She might be a spoiled rich girl, but he’d never been able to forget her.
With a sigh and a disgusted mutter, he took the papers. Responsibility for another human being’s life in the jungle was the last thing he wanted. Emergency-room responsibility didn’t bother him. The E.R. was stable and sane compared to the jungle. The jungle would kill him, if not physically, then emotionally.