“I want. . .” Izzy began, when the newcomers broke through into the clearing, and everyone jumped, scattering cards and cigarettes and beer bottles in their wake.
There were five of them, a little higher on the food chain than Izzy and Porco and their friends, though in two years MacGowan hadn’t learned their names, plus a new kid who looked small and nasty. He knew what they were capable of, though, and he stayed where he was. If they saw he was missing his handcuffs they’d do something to remedy that, and he wasn’t about to take that chance. The others only showed up when they moved camp, and this was his last chance.
They’d brought something with them – it looked like nothing more than a pile of fabric and bones, and someone dumped it on the ground. It was either a skinny kid or a woman, and it had been so long since he’d gotten laid he didn’t care which.
“They’ll be looking for this one,” the one in charge, a man MacGowan thought of as Redbeard, said, giving the bundle a little nudge with his foot. “We break camp tonight.”
Shit. He’d been hoping for a couple more days, just to make certain Hans and Dylan would be up to it. Maybe he should say the hell with it and go alone. They’d probably be more of a liability than an eventual asset. But he did like money, and it was going to take a fair amount to get back to England.
“Who’s this?” Izzy had approached the pathetic bundle on the ground, sniffing like a dog who’d found a bitch in heat.
“Leave her alone. You already killed one of the nuns,” Redbeard said. “This one is worth a lot of money, more if she’s in good shape.”
Izzy glared at the older man. MacGowan could remember the screams coming from the shed that had held the nuns. Two of them originally, now only one was left. If he had a chance before he left he was going to take care of Izzy, as a favor to the dead nun.
“She’s mine.” The new kid was a little bit younger than Izzy, but MacGowan didn’t make the mistake of thinking he was harmless. “I’m the one who took her.”
Redbeard looked at the kid with contempt. “She belongs to the Guiding Light now. No one touches her, comprende?”
Okay, this was going to work out fine. They’d be so busy keeping the jackals from the new female flesh that they wouldn’t have time to notice as he slipped away. Froelich and the kid were going to have to fend for themselves.
They weren’t guarded the way he was. The members of La Luz knew that neither of them had the skills or the determination to escape, and they had more freedom than he ever had, including bathroom breaks. He’d leave the prearranged sign in the latrine, and if they saw it and followed him to the meeting place, fine. Otherwise he was better off on his own.
“Put him back in his hut,” Redbeard said. “We’ll move at first light.”
MacGowan rose, keeping his wrists together so they wouldn’t realize the handcuffs were gone, and Izzy shoved him in the direction of the hut that had been his home for the last three months. He allowed himself one glance over his shoulder before stumbling into the darkness, long enough to see Redbeard pull the hood from the woman’s head.
And she was a woman all right, with a spill of long, golden hair in the firelight. Unconscious, and better off that way, he thought, turning back to the narrow path. She was going to be keeping all of them busy tonight, and he was going to be able to get out of there because of her.
Too bad there was no way to help her, but he had his own skin to think of. He just hoped he got far enough away before she started to scream.
CHAPTER TWO
The world was still whirling, the noise in her head unbearable, and Beth sank back down on the hard earth, praying for it all to go away, praying to wake up back in her tiny cell at the mission, knowing that no matter how hard she prayed, nothing would change.
“Get up!” Carlos was kicking at her. Carlos, the little shit who’d refused to learn English but refused to leave her classroom. Clearly he’d had a different agenda. Had they been his hands she’d felt on her breasts, between her legs, as she’d been tossed from car to jeep and onto the back of some smelly animal that could have been a donkey or a llama? She was a gentle woman, who put her money and her life where her pacifist ideals were. If she had an axe she’d cut off Carlos’s hands.
Someone hauled her to a sitting position, and she bit back her instinctive moan. They hadn’t bothered to tie her up – they would have known she’d be no threat to them – and she put her hand to her pounding head. Blood was matted there – whoever had clubbed her must have broken the skin. She tried to distance herself emotionally – did she have a concussion? It seemed likely. She was dizzy, disoriented, she couldn’t see clearly, and the blow to her head had kept her knocked out for what seemed like days. She’d have to talk to Father Pascal . . .
The sob that caught in her throat was instinctive, too late to swallow it. She choked it back, pulling her knees up and wrapping her arms around them to make herself into the smallest target available. And then she looked around her.
They were up in the mountains – she knew that much. As she’d slowly regained consciousness during the long, jolting trip into the jungle she’d recognized the change in elevation, the sound of the jeep engine straining as it climbed higher. She blinked, and slowly things came back into focus.
She’d lived in Callivera long enough to understand what had happened. Kidnappings for profit were everyday occurrences in other parts of the country, and while she’d done everything she could to keep a low profile, it should come as no surprise that she’d been taken. She couldn’t tell whether they were guerillas or paramilitaries, and in the end it didn’t matter. Kidnappings like this were about money, nothing more, no matter how noble the excuse the kidnappers gave.
“No one will touch you,” one of the older men said in halting English. “Your family will pay your ransom and you will be returned, unharmed. There is no need to be frightened.”
Beth raised her head to look at him. “I’m not frightened,” she said. “If you hurt me there won’t be any money. And revolutions need money.”
The man with the reddish hair grimaced. “We do what we must do.”
“Including killing a harmless old priest and two women who were only trying to help the people?”
Carlos started to push past him. “Let me shut her up, jefe. She needs to show respect . . .” He was swatted away like the nasty little bug he was, and Beth felt a faint surge of hope.
“The deaths were unfortunate,” the man said. “The result of young soldiers who panicked. You have my word of honor that you won’t be hurt.”
She looked past him to Carlos’s glittering eyes, and to the slightly older boy behind him. The chief’s word of honor wasn’t going to mean squat if those two had a chance at her.