Uniform Desires (Make Mine Military Romance) (53 page)

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Darkness vanished with the drone of a generator. “That’s better,” Garcia muttered. “I can’t believe these idiots let the gas run out.”

Angel smirked, relieved Garcia appeared to be taking him into his confidence. “Sounds like they need your constant supervision,” he said, stroking the man’s ego.

Garcia grunted, his gaze narrowing on Angel. “Calderon can use a man who thinks on his feet.”

“I’ve been around,” Angel said easily with a shrug. “As I told you when we first met, I’m a former merc. I know how to handle myself. And I don’t need babysitting.”

“Yanez thinks he can hold onto his power here. His squads intimidate the farmers. We have to break his chokehold. Do you think he will care enough that we have his daughter?”

Angel shrugged. “He has only the one child. A man likes a legacy.”

“But a girl,” Garcia said, his lips twisting in disgust. “She’s useless.”

“She can be bartered. In marriage. Perhaps he brought her from the States because he’s already made plans.”

“If she’s important to some scheme, then he’ll negotiate. Calderon’s not a greedy man. There’s enough coca for everyone.”

“You raided Yanez’s warehouse. He has to be furious over the loss.”

“He can posture all he likes, but that shipment is ours now. We’ve already sold it.”

Angel carefully schooled his expression to reflect only mild interest. “What if he doesn’t care enough about her to negotiate?”

“She’s pretty, no?” Garcia shrugged. “Such a pity.”

Angel nodded, while inside anger boiled in his gut. Garcia had to be acting on Calderon’s behalf, must already have his marching orders. If the trade didn’t come off, Maya was dead. If they figured out she wasn’t Yanez’s daughter first, she’d be dead sooner.

Either way, he didn’t have a choice. He had to get her out of here. Any way he cut things, his mission was blown. “So what’s next? How will you handle the trade?”

Garcia walked to a ruggedized container and flipped the latches. After bending, he pulled out a camera. “It’s time to take her picture. Send it to her papa along with our demands.”

“Do you want my help…to keep her cooperating?”

Garcia nodded, a sinister smile creeping across his face. “Come along then. Only I would prefer a few tears.”

Angel gave him a grim smile. “Leave it to me. I’ll have her weeping buckets.”

Footsteps crunched outside the door, and Maya scooted closer to the wall of the small building she was being kept inside. The door opened and closed quickly, footsteps neared, and she pressed against the wall, curling her body tightly, trying to keep out of reach.

The hood was pulled free, and she blinked. Moonlight filtered through a barred window, and she made out a large, broad shadow. “Angel?” she whispered.

One part of her tried to remember she should be cautious, that she shouldn’t trust him. But she was too relieved to be able to see again, and he was familiar. His hands plucked at the knot at her wrists, and then his large hands chafed hers, restoring circulation.

She moaned.

“Shhh. Soldiers are just outside,” he said softly. “I don’t want them overhearing us.”

Maya studied his expression, wishing she could see his eyes, but shadows deepened around the sockets. “What’s happening?”

“They’re bringing you out to take pictures, maybe a short video.”

Her breath hitched. “For a ransom demand?”

“Yes. But there’s something you need to know first.”

“All right, I’m listening.”

He drew a deep breath, his hands still holding hers. “They think you’re someone else. The daughter of a rival drug lord.”

Maya blinked, her thoughts whirling. “They took me by mistake? Why didn’t you tell them the truth?”

“Because if I had, they would have had no further use for you.”

Several seconds passed before she gleaned his meaning, and then her eyes widened. “But if they take my picture and send it out, they’ll learn right away they’ve made a mistake.”

“You’re quick. That’s a good thing. You’ll need to be smart and strong. And I need you to trust me. Do exactly what I tell you.”

“Why should I?” She waved an arm around the enclosure. “You’re walking around free while I’ve been cooped up in this shed. They didn’t tie you up. Didn’t put a hood over your head. You’re one of them.”

“Things aren’t what they appear. I will help you, but you have to do what I say. You’ve got no other choices here.”

And she knew she really didn’t. Pushing aside her suspicions for now, she asked, “What do you need me to do?”

“I need you to cry.”

“What?” Her head jerked backward.

“
Loudly.
Real tears. If I have to slap you to get the response, I will.”

She huffed out a breath. “You’d hit me?”

“Not my preference. It’s up to you.”

Raising a hand to hold him off, she cleared her throat. “For the pictures, right?”

“Yeah, baby.”

The way he said it, his voice thick, got to her. His tone said that he really regretted she was in this mess. Like he cared.

His hands cupped her cheeks, fingers smoothing over her lower lip. “Real tears,” he whispered.

The backs of her eyes already felt scratchy, prickly. Not much more was needed to push her into a real weep-fest. “Tell me you love me,” she whispered.

“Why?”

“Because they’re words I’ve never heard from a man before. If I’m going to die, I’d like to hear it just one time.”

His lips tightened, one side of his mouth curving in a sad smile. He leaned close and brushed her lips. “You’re pretty brave.”

“Am not. I’m a quivering mess.” She pressed her lips together and waited, but not too proud to breathe in his essence. Maybe his brand of sweat and bravado would infuse her with some courage.

His gaze locked with hers, and his mouth hovered just above her lips. “I love you, Maya.”

The ragged texture of his voice, the tension in his jaw, told her everything she needed to know. The man wasn’t a killer. He might be messed up with druggies, but he didn’t want her dead.

What started as a strangled laugh blended into a choking sob, and her eyes quickly filled. “That was so damn hot. I wish you’d meant it.”

“I do. For now.”

Her breaths hitched in her thickened throat, and she let the feeling build—the hopeless, lonely feeling that she kept shoved so deep inside her heart she never let it see daylight. “This what you needed?”

“Perfect.” He bent toward her, giving her a hard, quick kiss, then straightened, tugging her to her feet. “Keep them gushing.”

As he opened the door, Maya let loose a hicuppy sob. If all it took to stay alive for the next few minutes was a flow of tears, she’d give them rivers.

Chapter 4

Maya endured several “takes,” stumbling over the script the mustachioed little man wanted her to read. She’d been nervous, and her gaze kept slipping from him to Angel who stood behind the little man, Angel’s expression so grim, she couldn’t help shaking. He’d looked every bit as mean and determined as her abductor, which kept the tears flowing until she’d managed to get to the end.

“
Perfecto
.” Hard, black eyes raked her, pausing on her breasts and hips.

Maya’s unease caused her skin to crawl and her belly to cramp. She hoped he was more concerned about keeping his investment safe than taking advantage of the fact she was a hostage and completely at his mercy. She jumped when he rattled off more rapid-fire bullets of Spanish.

Angel stepped forward, cupped her elbow and led her back to the small tin hut that was her prison for as long as they believed she was someone else.

“How long do you think I have?” she whispered once they were far enough away not to be heard.
 

“I don’t know,” he said, giving her elbow a squeeze. “But I’m working on diversions. In the meantime, I put a blanket and pillow inside. Try to rest.”

As if.
She snorted and swiped the back of her hand across her face. Her cheeks were still damp and hot from her tears. “Am I going to die?” she asked, her voice giving an embarrassing quaver.

“Not if I can help it,” he said, his deep voice gritty. He held open the door, then lifted his chin, motioning her to move into the hut.

Maya gripped the doorframe, refusing to budge. “Why should I trust you?” Then leaned back when his head descended, a dark, fierce frown pushing his eyebrows together.

“You can trust me because the minute they find out you’re not who they think you are, I’m dead too.”

Oddly, that fact reassured her. Angel didn’t seem the sort to lie down without a fight. Letting go of the doorframe, she allowed him to push her inside the hut, no doubt for the benefit of anyone who might be watching.

The door closed. The lock clicked. Just enough light peeked through the slats of the window to illuminate her prison, and her stomach dropped. The entire floor was dirt. A bucket sat in one corner. And she didn’t have to be the class genius to know what purpose it served. A neat stack sat in the opposite corner—a folded blanket and a small, dingy pillow.

With nothing else to fill her time, she unfolded the blanket, spreading it on the ground between her and the dirt. The meager pillow, she clutched to her chest. Sitting alone in the dark, all the worst scenarios ran through her mind, until real tears tracked endlessly down her cheeks.

Was Angel really a good guy or had he told her he’d get her out just to keep her cooperative? She didn’t doubt for a moment he could pull off an escape, given his training, but would he risk himself for her?

Then she thought about the very real possibility the man with the mustache might kill her when he discovered she wasn’t some drug lord’s daughter. Something told her he’d be livid the moment her identity was revealed, and would likely take great satisfaction in killing her in some heinous fashion. Those scenarios left her nauseous and so panicky she couldn’t breathe. Could someone die of a panic attack?

Then she thought about those she’d leave behind. The list of people who would care was pitifully small. Mr. Batson at the bank—because he’d have to redo the loan paperwork—her two best friends and partners. Would they ever know what happened to her? The thought of the hell they’d go through, possibly blaming themselves for her death because of their joint decision to change the model of their travel agency, caused her worry, too. She didn’t want them blaming themselves. Although she did hope they’d grieve for a little while. It would be nice to have someone shed a tear for her passing.

The lights blinked, blinked again, then slowly went out altogether. Maya shrank toward the floor. Pitch darkness was so much scarier than the shadow play. Every sound was amplified.

A roar sounded in the camp, and she jumped. The shout was followed by a streak of Spanish so filled with curse words she understood every single one.

Maya’s heart thundered inside her chest. Either Little Man had just figured out he’d nabbed the wrong girl, or…

The door scratched open. “Maya...” came an urgent whisper.

Not daring to say a word, she pushed to her feet and edged around the walls of the shack toward the door. Reaching out a tentative hand, her palm met solid muscle.

Angel’s hand slid down her arm and clutched hers, then he jerked her through the door. “Baby, run.”

With clouds blocking the moonlight, she couldn’t see a thing. Didn’t know how he could, but he pulled her along, his steps sure. She took confidence in that and widened her stride as she sped along beside him.

“No talking, hear?”

No problems with that order. They were moving so quickly and she was so scared, she couldn’t catch her breath. They must have left the camp though, because the sounds of scuffling feet and shouting were more muffled.

The occasional vine brushed her shoulder and her face. The clouds moved; moonlight filtered through the canopy above them, but still, not enough light penetrated to help her get any bearings. Although how that would have helped she didn’t know because she didn’t have a clue where she’d been taken.

And then they were standing on a slight rise, above a clearing where a wood-framed building stood with a chimney belching smoke that smelled like kerosene and burned plastic. Beside the building were two trucks. One was parked beside a large barrel with a hose leading from the barrel into the truck’s gas tank, likely diesel fuel.

“Oh thank God,” she whispered. “We can call for help.”

“Shit,” Angel said beside her. “They’re making cocaine. It’s the last place we can stop. Keep moving.” He pulled her hand again, and off they went, back into the darkness of the jungle.

Beneath her, the ground dipped. So, they were moving downhill. Ahead she heard the trickle of water. The river perhaps? She wondered if there were piranha in the water, but thought maybe they were only in the Amazon. Even piranha weren’t as scary as what she faced back at the camp, so she didn’t slow her steps, although running downhill in the dark made her heart race faster and she was falling behind him.

Angel drew to a sudden halt.