The Reunion Mission. Beth Cornelison
Читать онлайн книгу.
“It’s all right, Nicole. I won’t hurt you,” he whispered, his mouth so close to her that his lips brushed the shell of her ear and his warm breath fanned her neck. In the fog of her fear, it took her a moment to realize he’d used her name. And that he spoke English.
She snapped a startled gaze to his, straining to make out his face while her heart drummed an anxious beat against her ribs. No use. In the blackness of the jungle night, she couldn’t see anything distinguishing about his face.
“I’m an American operative. I’m here to take you home. Do you understand?”
Home. The word held such sweet promise, she couldn’t help the whimper of relief that squeaked from her throat.
Her attacker—no, her rescuer—loosened his grip on her mouth. “Promise to be quiet?”
She nodded, and tears of joy puddled in her eyes. She was going home. Finally. And Tia could get the medical attention she needed. Nicole’s heart soared, even though the prospect of escaping the camp filled her with a chilling fear.
As he removed his hand from her mouth, the man dragged his fingers along her chin, brushing her hair back from her face and wiping a tear from her cheek with his thumb. The intimate gesture startled her, and the first uneasy whispers that something was off tickled her nape. He hovered, scant inches above her, and she searched his face, wishing desperately she could see him better in the darkness. Then, with a troubled-sounding sigh, he dipped his head.
And kissed her.
Nicole’s breath caught, and her pulse scampered on a fresh wave of panic. Had he lied about his intentions? When her initial, paralyzing shock passed, she gained the frame of mind to resist. But hesitated.
His lips were gentle. The tender caress of his mouth surprised her, intrigued her. Filled her with a sweet warmth. Her body responded to his kiss as if she’d known him her whole life … and yet the edgy prickle at her neck bit harder.
A groan rumbled from his chest, and he broke the kiss to sit back on his heels, muttering a curse under his breath. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“Damn right, you shouldn’t have! Who are you?” she whispered fiercely.
He tensed and angled a hooded glance toward her. “Your ticket outta here. Get up.” His tone was gruff now, in contradiction to his soft kiss, and she shivered, despite the clammy heat of the jungle. “I brought shoes and socks for you. Size 6, right?”
“I—yes. How did you know?”
“It’s my job to know.” He slid a pack off his back and pulled out a pair of boots. “Can you walk? We have a difficult hike ahead of us.”
“I can, but Tia’s weak.” She glanced to the sleeping girl, whose age she estimated at eight years and who’d shared her cage for the past several months. She’d come to love Tia like a daughter, bonding with the terrified child as she protected her from the cruelty of their guards. “She’s had a fever and hasn’t eaten in days.”
Her rescuer followed her glance to Tia and shook his head. “Forget it. She’s not coming with us.” He shoved the boots at her. “Put these on. Hurry.”
Nicole’s chest tightened. “What? She has to come. She’ll die here if I leave her!” She shifted her gaze down the row of night-darkened cages. “And what about the others? There are twelve of us being held here!”
He clamped a hand over her mouth and growled in her ear. “Keep your voice down.” He grabbed the socks up and shoved one onto her foot. “Our objective is to get you out. Only you. We can’t take anyone else.”
She snatched her foot away. “Why? Because they’re not American?” Disdain filled her voice, but she didn’t care. “Their lives still matter. We can’t leave—”
“No. Only you. We only have provisions for you.” His tone brooked no resistance, and he tossed a boot into her lap. “Hurry up.”
“Then … take Tia instead of me. Please. She’s just a child. This is no place for an eight-year-old girl.”
He glanced at Tia again and jammed fingers through his short black hair. Hope fluttered in Nicole’s chest. Clearly the idea of leaving a little girl behind bothered him.
He released a ragged sigh and cupped a hand at the nape of Nicole’s neck. “Don’t do this. I have been planning this rescue for months. I’m here to take you home. You, Nicole.” He kept his voice low, but his tone vibrated with fury and frustration.
An odd sense of familiarity sketched down her spine. Something about his voice …
“I will not do anything that could jeopardize my objective. Got it?”
Nicole’s temper spiked. “Did I ask you to save me?”
She felt him tense, his fingers digging into her scalp. “Get your ass moving, or I’ll carry you out of here.”
A frisson of fear slithered through her. Indecision. Anguish. “I won’t leave her. If you don’t take her, I’m not going, either.” To prove her point, Nicole shoved the boot into his chest and let it drop.
Even with the night shadows, she couldn’t miss the lethal scowl he narrowed on her.
“Lafitte!” another male voice whispered just outside her plywood shelter. “What the hell’s the hold up? Haul ass!”
Her rescuer bit out another curse, in French this time, and pivoted to where Tia slept. Bending over her, he scooped the girl into his arms.
Relief and gratitude swept through Nicole and left her trembling.
When Tia woke and whimpered in fright, the man clapped a hand over her mouth … which only frightened Tia more.
Quickly Nicole scrambled over and stroked Tia’s arm, squeezed her hand. “It’s okay, mija. Es un amigo.” She tugged the man’s hand away from Tia’s mouth, then tapped her own finger to Tia’s lips. “Shh.”
Nicole didn’t miss the irony of hushing a girl who hadn’t spoken a word since arriving at the camp, traumatized and alone. Tia raised wide brown eyes so full of blind trust that Nicole’s heart twisted. She prayed trusting these men, attempting an escape with them, didn’t prove a deadly mistake.
When Tia quieted, Nicole jammed the boots on her feet and crawled out of her plywood lean-to in time to see her rescuer pass Tia off to the second man.
“What the hell?” the second man whispered harshly.
“Change of plans,” he grumbled under his breath, then stalked back to Nicole. “Ready?” He offered her a hand up, which she took. When he’d pulled her to her feet, he drew her close, and she grabbed one of his muscular arms while she found her balance. “We have to move fast. If you can’t run, I’ll carry you.”
Judging by the size of the arm she held and the width of his chest, she had no doubt he could carry her for miles. The notion started an odd tremble low in her belly. She shook her head. “No. I can run.”
“Good. Keep your head down, and do exactly as I say, when I say. Got it?” His tone and face were hard and unyielding.
She bristled a bit at his high-handedness but swallowed the sharp retort that came to mind. Under the circumstances, she’d forgive his bossiness. “Got it.”
He seized her hand and hauled her with him as he moved to the hole cut in the cage that had imprisoned her. The second man had already carried Tia out and was headed toward the perimeter fence. She scurried through the gap and glanced warily around the dark camp, her heart thundering.
Two shadowy dark figures lay unmoving in the dirt by the weapons cache, and a sick understanding crawled through her. Her rescuers had killed those men and who knew how many others in order to reach her. Bile rose in her throat, and she fought the urge to vomit.
As