CHAPTER FIVE
The roar of the waterfall lulled Beth to sleep. At first she thought she would never be able to rest – every inch of her body vibrated with pain, her eyes were dry and gritty, and her stomach felt hollow. She should have taken her time with that chocolate bar. She shouldn’t have refused the beans and rice she’d been offered on the road by a grinning Carlos. But then, she’d happily starve before she took anything from Carlos.
He’d been the one to kill Father Pascal. She’d listened to him brag about it, and he’d known perfectly well that she’d understood enough of what he was saying. How the old man had said his rosary until Carlos had used the machete on his throat. How he would have hacked the old man’s hand off first, the one clutching the beads, but one of the women kept beating at him.
He’d taken care of her as well, ancient piece of tail that she was. As the light in her eyes dimmed she’d known it was Carlos, the boy she’d ordered around and known from infancy, who was fucking her as she died.
Beth had gagged then, listening to his triumphant words. His eyes had gleamed at her, and his mouth had formed the words, “you’re next.”
No, she’d lie down for MacGowan long before she let Carlos near her. It was that simple, and MacGowan knew it.
But it would also be under duress, no matter what the man’s inflated opinion of his own irresistibility was. But it was better the devil you knew . . .
She heard the soft rustle in the underbrush, and she was instantly awake. The afternoon sun was getting low, sinking down behind the mountains, which meant they were heading east. She wasn’t sure whether that was good or bad, but it wasn’t as if she had a choice. She sat up, trying to be as quiet as possible, as she listened carefully to the soft sounds above the rushing water.
It was probably just the wind through the dense growth. She held very still, but the sound of her heart hammering in her chest was louder than the rustle of leaves. She must have imagined it. And then she heard it – a soft, metallic sound. One she couldn’t identify, but it made her skin crawl. Something was wrong.
There were no voices. No sound of footfalls. Nothing but the rustle of the wind through the leaves.
Had he abandoned her? Taken the others and gone, leaving her alone to either survive or end up as one of Carlos’s victims? The thought of being abandoned in this mountainside jungle was beyond frightening, but she refused to let the familiar fear seep through her. As long as she kept putting one foot in front of the other she’d survive.
But if he had left her she needed to do everything she could to catch up with them. She rose to her feet, slowly, her aching muscles screaming in protest. And then she froze.
She was more than average height – just about five-nine in her stocking feet, and the thick jungle growth only came up to her shoulders. She could see them moving through the deepening shadows. Four men, one barely grazing the top of the bushes. Carlos and three others. She ducked down, mercifully silent, praying they hadn’t seen her. They didn’t slow in their determined progress toward the edge of the ravine. They were going after MacGowan.
Had they already recaptured Dylan and Froelich? Most likely. And MacGowan wouldn’t hear their approach over the noise of the waterfall. She had two choices. She could make a run for it, hoping they wouldn’t be able to find her, hoping she’d be able to make her way down the treacherous mountains on her own.
Or she could try to warn MacGowan.
It really wasn’t any choice at all. If she valued her own comfort and safety she wouldn’t have moved heaven and hell to get to this country, to try to make a difference. And despite MacGowan’s rough demeanor and not-so-veiled threats, he was still one of the good guys, at least compared to Carlos. He’d tried to get her away from her kidnappers, even if it hadn’t been his idea in the first place.
She was no fool – she’d paid very careful attention to where MacGowan had settled down to sleep, in case she needed to get to him quickly. The rebels were moving toward the spot, making as little noise as possible, and if she was lucky she could make it there faster, with time enough for him to hide.
If she was unlucky they’d hear her and shoot into the heavy bushes and kill her, but she wasn’t going to think about that. In the last forty-eight hours she’d had to come face to face with the possibility of her imminent death, and she’d faced it calmly enough. Now was no time to freak out.
She moved swiftly through the underbrush, keeping down, doing her best to jostle as few leaves as possible. She could hear their steady progress and she sped up. The waterfall grew louder and louder, and suddenly the clearing was in sight. She reached the edge, just about to break through, wh
en something slammed her to the ground, something huge and crushing, smashing her face into the dirt as a hand clamped around her mouth.
She knew that hand – it had covered her mouth before. She was getting to know the body as well, heavier than the gaunt frame would suggest. “What the fuck are you doing?” His voice was no more than a breath in her ear. “No, don’t answer that. Do you want to get yourself killed?”
She didn’t bother answering that either. She let her body relax, so that he’d know she’d recognized him, wasn’t going to fight him, and he slowly took his hand away from her mouth.
The soldiers had reached the clearing, and they were arguing, angrily, looking back toward the way they came. She turned her head, just able to see them. “You expect to get out of here, you need to give us MacGowan,” the older man said. “We don’t get him, you go back to the camp.”
“He’s here,” the voice came back. The German accent made it unmistakable. “He must have heard you coming. It’s not my fault if you’re clumsy.”
Carlos was looking at the German out of narrowed eyes. And then, to Beth’s shock, he raised his gun and fired, three times. She couldn’t see Froelich fall, but she heard the thud, just as she saw an older man cuff Carlos along the side of his head. “Stupido! You wait for orders! They could have heard your shots and hidden.”
Carlos looked sullen. “He was of no use to us. He lost us the man and the gringa. Better to leave him here.”
MacGowan levered himself off her body, slowly, and Beth felt a sudden panic. What the hell was he planning to do? She reached out a hand to stop him but he was already gone, circling around the clearing, and she let her face drop against the dirt with a silent groan.
The men kept arguing, only half of the words intelligible to her untrained ears, and she wanted to cover her head with her arms to shut everything out. She could smell death in the thick, hot air, and she wanted to gag. She closed her eyes and breathed through her mouth, slow, deep breaths, as she tried to shut out what lay in the clearing.
A moment later there was an explosion of sound, gunfire, and she jerked her head up to see MacGowan on the ground with the older man, locked in a furious struggle. Carlos had been knocked back against a tree, and he was lying there, dazed, as the third man circled the combatants, trying to take a shot.
MacGowan’s leg shot out, sweeping the other man, and he went down, hard. MacGowan surged up, leaving the older man unconscious or maybe dead, and leaped onto the second, catching the man’s head in his hands and giving it a quick, vicious jerk. She didn’t need the sound of crunching bones to know he’d broken his neck, killing him instantly.