Course of Action: The Rescue: Jaguar Night / Amazon Gold. Merline Lovelace
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moved forward. His eyes focused on Juan, he walked quickly toward him, pulled the pistol out of his holster and shot the smiling Indian in the head.
Aly screamed.
Her horse jerked, shying away, unseating her.
Aly fell hard to the path. In her peripheral vision, she saw Juan crumple, half his head gone. She’d been spattered by the pink mist, the brain matter clinging to her lower smock and across her thigh. Gasping, she stared at Juan, a sob wrenching from her as she tried to get to her feet.
The man who had shot Juan reached down, grabbed her by her ponytail and jerked her roughly to her feet.
Pain radiated from her scalp and Aly grunted. Her hands flew toward her head. She was yanked forward, nearly losing her footing again on the muddy path. Sobbing, she was pushed down onto her hands and knees in front of the bald soldier, who smiled. But the smile didn’t reach his dead-looking green eyes.
“Why are you doing this?” Aly shrieked, trying to rise. “You killed Juan! You killed him! How could you!”
The bald soldier’s hand snapped out like a snake strike and grabbed her by her shoulder as she got to her feet. “Allison Landon,” he snarled into her face, “do you want to live? Or do you want to join your friend on the ground with a bullet through your head?”
Tears poured out of her eyes and Aly choked, whispering, “N-no, don’t kill me...”
Her mind gyrated. In shock, terrified and grief-stricken by Juan’s murder, Aly tried to stand still. Her chest was rising and falling with sobs she couldn’t control. They’d killed Juan! He’d been a gentle man, a beautiful soul whose only mission had been to make life better for his tribe.
The soldier’s powerful fingers dug deep into her shoulder and the pain radiated outward. Whimpering, Aly tried to escape him, but his fingers only dug deeper. She stopped, trembling, her eyes on his. She saw nothing but a vat of dead green, swampy darkness. There was no leniency, no compassion in this man. Aly tried to stop sobbing. Tried to stop crying, but she couldn’t completely control her emotions.
“You are now the property of Don Gervasio Duarte.” He smiled a little. “Do you know who he is?”
Aly barely nodded, feeling some relief of his fingers digging into her shoulder. If she stood still, if she tried to stop crying, the pain eased. “I—I’ve heard of him...a local drug lord...”
His eyes glittered. “Very good, señorita. You are much smarter than I thought. Now, you are being a good girl. Fight me, try to escape, and I will hurt you. I will rape you. Do you understand?” He leered at her.
His breath was a foul mixture of fish and garlic. Wincing, Aly closed her eyes and turned her face away from his. Instantly his fingers grasped her. She winced, cried out and faced him. His grip eased a little.
“I am Oleg Rusak, Don Duarte’s chief of security. You will remember me. You will always obey me in an instant. If you do not, I will hurt you. ¿Comprende?”
Aly risked a look at the other four soldiers. They were grinning. Their faces were sweat-soaked, dirty and the sour smell of their bodies almost made her gag. “Wh-what do you want?” she whispered brokenly.
Instantly, Rusak’s fingers dug so deep it took Aly to her knees.
Rusak crouched in front of her, his face filled with rage. “You have no voice, bitch! You do not ask questions! You live to obey Don Duarte and me.”
Whimpering, the agony making her lean into his hand, her face so close to his, Aly cried out, “Y-yes, yes, I hear you!”
Rusak released her and stood. “Good. Now get up. You are nothing more than a slave to Don Duarte. You will know your place. You speak only when spoken to. If he tells you to do something, you do it. You never speak unless he asks you to. Understand?”
Yes, she understood, rubbing her shoulder that was surely deeply bruised and currently throbbing. “I understand,” she whispered. What was going to happen to her? Oh, God, she was in such trouble. And no one knew. No one would miss her until she failed to check in this evening by satellite phone with the office in Manaus.
“Mount that horse,” Rusak growled. “And if you think you can kick that animal and gallop away from us, think about this—” He held the AK-47 up in front of her face. “First, we will shoot the horse out from under you. And then—” he grinned a little “—I will tell my men to watch as I rip off your clothes and take you down on this trail.” He rubbed his crotch with his soiled hand, all the while, staring at her. “If you fight, my man will hold your arms above your head. The other one will spread your legs and I will enjoy having my way with you.” He reached out and ran his large hand around the curve of her breast.
Startled, Aly gasped and jerked away.
Rusak slapped her.
Her head exploded. She saw stars behind her eyes; felt her legs crumple beneath her. Aly didn’t even remember hitting the hard, muddy ground. Moments later she woke, her cheek in the cooling mud. She felt more than saw Rusak walk over to her. She barely opened her eyes to stare uncomprehendingly at his large, muddy combat boots. Her head spun. She couldn’t think, her cheek smarting with excruciating pain.
Rusak leaned down, grabbing her by the shoulder and hauled her up with one jerk of his arm. Aly was wobbly as he roughly brought her against him. He smiled down into her cloudy eyes. “You are a slave. You will allow Don Duarte to touch you anytime he wants. If he thinks you are good for his bed, then you will go without a fight and you will please him.” Rusak sneered. “Because if you do not please him, Allison Landon, then he gives his cast-off women to me. And I guarantee you, little girl, you will have met the devil. I will not be kind or gentle with you. Understand?”
Oh, God, yes! She understood. Aly barely nodded, hating the smell of him, wanting to push away from him. But she didn’t dare. He would do something else to her, possibly rape her. She couldn’t fight back. She felt and heard him laugh, the sound harsh against her ears, his breath fetid, nauseating her.
Everything spun and when he pushed her to stand on her own two feet, she started to collapse again. Someone behind her grabbed her around the waist, held her upright and walked her over to the nervous horse. They threw her into the saddle. It was the last thing Aly remembered.
The brutal death of Juan, being captured, slapped and roughly treated, overwhelmed her. Aly had never experienced violence in her life. But now, her last thoughts acknowledged she was in a violent world and there was no escape.
* * *
Staff Sergeant Josh Patterson was in a lot of trouble. He’d been taken off an important op in Afghanistan and ordered to Washington, D.C. For what? What the hell was more important than targeting an HVT? As a Marine Force Recon, he’d worked three weeks on that op, watching through his sniper scope as the Pakistanis crossed across the border into Afghanistan carrying weapons, fertilizer to make IEDs and bombs. A top man, a war lord, had been scheduled to come across. CIA traffic had picked up a lot of chatter so Patterson knew their HVT—high value target—would be crossing any day now.
Yet he was now taking the broad stone steps up to the Pentagon with orders to see a General Landon. The name didn’t ring a bell, but being an enlisted man, Patterson had nothing to do with officers other than to take orders and direction from them.
He pushed his fingers through his recently cut black hair. His beard was gone, as well. He was in Marine desert camos. Since he’d been flying for thirty hours, exhaustion now stalked him. As a sniper, he was used to catching catnaps where and when he could. Having grabbed an Air Force C-17 out of Rota, Spain, he’d opened up his hammock, strung it between two containers on the deck and slept until they’d landed at Andrews Air Force Base.
He hadn’t been to the Pentagon often, but located the visitor’s desk and found out where he was supposed to be. There were seven rings to this building; even to a Recon, the layout was impressive. Finding General Landon’s office, he opened the door and stepped inside. A woman dressed in civilian