Lethal Deception

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.

Now, a week later, the deadline looming, Gabe’s muscles flexed each time he hacked at the dense growth as he headed for the rebel camp, wondering if he could fully trust the guide ahead of him. With each swing of the machete, he pushed the nightmarish memories down deep inside.

Gabe’s cover fully established him as Miguel Sanchez, rebel for hire. With his raven-colored wavy hair, black eyes and dark skin, he looked the part. The scar slicing through his right eyebrow added to his menacing appearance. No one had to know he’d gotten the scar when he’d been showing off at his parents’ house and cracked his head on the diving board.

He ignored the sweat dripping off his face and sliced another thick vine. He’d stopped praying two years ago after the mission with Micah went terribly wrong, but as the camp finally came into sight, he decided today might be a good day to start up again.

TWO

March 19

Cassidy used the rock to scratch another tally mark into the wall of her hut. At the end of each day, she added another mark.

Seventeen miserable days.

What was her father doing? Her mother was probably in need of a straitjacket by now. Cassidy paced and kicked the dirt floor. What was taking so long? Why hadn’t she been rescued, ransomed or killed? Or, she shuddered, sold?

That last thought scared her more than the idea of being killed. In fact, she was sure she would much prefer a bullet to the brain. Working with her father in the political arena had exposed her to a twisted evil she’d never suspected existed. Since she’d started the Stop the Traffic Foundation, human trafficking in Brazil had taken a beating. Unfortunately, a fatal blow never seemed to land.

The men who’d snatched her had told her only that her father had been contacted, but said nothing about what they wanted. The constant tension had her ready to scream. She’d lost weight and had to tighten the knot in the rope that she now used as a belt. Her jeans sagged, and her T-shirt had definitely seen better days. Washing in the creek every other day just didn’t quite measure up to her normal hygiene habits.

Cassidy groaned and knelt on the dirt floor. What were they waiting for? And now, she had another worry plaguing her. Sometimes she had to go to extreme measures to avoid Rafael. Almost every time she stepped out of the hut, she felt his leering gaze follow her, making her skin crawl.

The days blended together in an endless fashion. Recently, Cassidy had caught a glimpse of the newest rebel to join the camp. Three days ago he had marched into the camp and his eyes had caught hers for a brief moment before he turned away without expression. She knew this man. She didn’t know where or how, but she knew him. It would come to her later.

Right now, exhaustion threatened to snap her sanity…and it was getting dark. Fear snaked up her spine to twine itself around the base of her neck. She hated the nights and the suffocating terror.

She would lay rigidly still deep into the night listening to the old woman snore, reassuring herself that as long as she was there, nothing would happen to her. It was probably a lie, but she drew comfort from it anyway. And she prayed, over and over the scripture from Psalm 91, Do not be afraid of the terrors of the night.

Cassidy sighed and rubbed her burning eyes with shaky hands. Eventually, exhaustion overtook her and she drifted off.

Hard fingers dug grooves into her cheeks and she opened her eyes to see the newcomer she’d just been thinking about staring down at her, his black eyes even darker in the shadows of the cabin. Terror exploded her into consciousness and she froze.

He brought a finger to his lips and whispered, “Shh.”

Cassidy managed a slight nod against the hand still clamped over her mouth. What was he doing?

And then she was free. She scrambled away from him and bumped into a warm body. She cut off a scream.

Maria! Had he killed her? Cassidy struggled to her feet, and backed up, her eyes never leaving the man’s face. He said, “I’m here to get you out of here, you understand? Maria is busy with the outhouse, but that won’t last long. Rafael there was about to pay you a rather unpleasant visit. He should be out for a while, but we need to get moving, now, okay?” His low voice eased her fear somewhat. He was here to rescue her? But…her brain felt too fuzzy to take it all in. Who was he? Who’d sent him? Why was this rebel risking his life to save hers?

Gabe reached down and pulled Cassidy to her feet. Dazed green eyes stared up at him. If she shook any harder, she’d come apart at the seams. When he’d first seen her, he had been appalled at how thin she was. He worried if she would have the stamina to make the trek through the jungle.

“Who are you?” she asked. “I know you.”

“Your knight in shining armor, m’ lady,” he quipped without humor. “Now, please, let’s go.” He gave a firm yank on the hand he still held and pulled her out the door. He wasn’t sure how much time they had to put as much distance between them and the camp as possible, but he didn’t want to waste any of it. Unfortunately, he’d caught Rafael sneaking into Cassidy’s hut and had to act. Rafael had seen his face; Gabe’s cover was blown. If they were going to escape, it had to be now.

Cassidy stumbled along behind him. Within seconds, they reached the hut that Gabe had been assigned and he reached in, grabbed the pack that he always kept ready and slung it over his shoulder. “Come on, let’s get out of here.” He took her hand again.

“Why are you helping me, anyway?” she asked.

“I’ll explain on the way out of here.” He looked up. The sun, just peeking over the horizon, made him groan silently. Great, running from rebels in broad daylight ranked pretty much last on his list of fun things to do. He pulled her along behind him. “We don’t have a lot of time, moving fast is top priority, got it?”

Thankfully, Cassidy held her questions, nodded and fell in behind him as he headed for the dense forest trees directly ahead. They were just about to the edge of the camp and ready to disappear into the jungle, when he heard, “Ei! You there! Stop!”

Gabe gave Cassidy a shove and whispered, “Run!”

Cassidy obeyed, and Gabe followed close behind. A well-worn path led to the river. Soon the men would form search teams. They would spread out to make a big circle and gradually narrow the diameter to capture their prey in the middle. Somehow, they had to slip through that circle.

Gabe stayed beside Cassidy, helping her when she stumbled. Branches and bushes slapped at them, as though trying to hold them back. “Wait.” He stopped and bent double, winded. Cassidy flopped beside him, gasping and holding her side. Blood dripped from a gash on her cheek.

Gabe sat down beside her and said, “They’ll be coming. I don’t think we can outrun them, so we’re going to have to outsmart them.”

Cassidy finally had enough breath to say, “Sounds good to me. But first I want to know who you are and why you’re helping me.”

Gabe gave her a sad smile. “Look a little harder, Cass.”

Her eyes narrowed as she gave him the once-over, and he knew the moment she recognized him. She gasped then her green eyes narrowed and she pursed her lips. “Gabriel Sinclair. Daddy sent you, didn’t he? The man who knows how my brother died, but isn’t talking. That’s just great.”

Gabe tried to form an answer while he waited for the sting of her words to lessen. He knew she’d been upset, but that zinger told him a lot. She still blamed him for Micah’s death.

“Which way’s the orphanage?” she asked.

His mind still reeling from her hostile shot, Gabe fumbled with one hand and managed to get his compass out of his front pocket. “Uh, that way. Why?” He pointed to the north.

“Okay,” she said. “Let’s go.”

Anger started to push its way past the hurt. No way, uh-uh. Gabe protested, “Now, see here, Princess, your daddy managed to talk me into playing hero to get you out of here. This is my job, my mission. Now, we—as in you and me—are going that way. No orphanage, got it?”

Cassidy frowned, pursed her lips and said, “I’m on my own mission, Gabe. I’m heading that way.” She pointed north.

Gabe grabbed her extended arm and pulled her right up into his face. “This isn’t some game. You’re going with me. Now.”

She tried to jerk out of his hard grip, but failed. Anger lit a fire in her eyes. “Now, listen here—” She stopped. Demanding was getting her nowhere, so she changed tactics. She reasoned, “Look, Alexis is waiting for me. I have to go back.”

Gabe shook his head and pulled a fairly clean bandanna from his backpack to swipe at the blood dripping from the cut on her cheek. “You could probably use a stitch in that. Who is worth risking your life—excuse me, our lives—for? And who is Alexis?”