Chapter Eleven
“Are you ready?” Emanuel asked, retrieving his cell from his backpack.
Erika had enjoyed spending time with him and getting to know the Itopis and their traditions. She might not speak Portuguese, but she could tell by their body language they welcomed her. Two days had gone by since he’d told her he’d call her father. She’d avoided the subject and enjoyed the extra time she got to spend with him. Sure, she thought about questioning why he had decided to wait a little bit longer, but inside she just hoped their night together had changed his mind. What if he wanted to get to know her better?
Her palms slicked with sweat as she took the iPhone from Emanuel. Lucky for her, Emanuel helped her ease her guilt by distracting and ravishing her at night. She quivered, her body parts quickly responding to any memory of his hands on her.
“Sure.”
Emanuel dialed it, and after a few rings, her father picked up. Smart old man, probably didn’t want to sound so eager to talk to the kidnapper. Or maybe he doesn’t want me back. God, she hated how pitiful she sounded. Wasn’t it true, though? Once her father learned she didn’t agree with his illegalities and lack of work ethic, she would be of no use for him. Once he learned she knew the truth. A cold shiver rolled down her spine.
“One day. You have one day to bring Raul back to me,” Emanuel spoke into the phone. His fist curled and uncurled.
“Four,” her father responded.
“One,” Emanuel insisted.
“I need time. I understand you have my daughter, but the logistics of the place where Raul is are rather complicated,” her father said.
He admitted his guilt. She focused on breathing deeply and settling her nerves. She’d talked to him before, but this time she knew what he’d done. And to protect Emanuel’s plans and possibly the lives of those involved, she had to act as if she still wanted to go back to New York and continue her life as the naive charity gal. Stupid, stupid.
“Two days and that’s it,” Emanuel spoke into the phone, then handed it to her. “Here.” His brow rose in a cautionary way, reminding her of what they’d talked about.
“Dad?” she said, insecure. She crossed her legs and squared her shoulders as if he watched her. What would her mom say if she knew her daughter was an instrument in her husband’s downfall? Thank goodness she’s not here to see everything. She wouldn’t handle it well.
Her father breathed hard into the phone, and she could picture him pacing his lavish New York office. “Erika. Are you okay? Where are you? Has this man done anything—”
“I-I’m fine. We had to move because some guys invaded his hideout, and I swear I didn’t know you sent those men. Duarte threatened and—”
He shushed her. “It’s okay, honey, you were probably confused, and those men must have been scary,” he said, and for once in her life she appreciated his condescending behavior.
“Wrap it up,” Emanuel chimed in, playing his role of ruthless captor well.
“Please, Dad, just get me out of here.”
“I will. The charity needs you. Don’t worry—”
Emanuel took the phone from her, and a pang of relief hit her. “Catch up time is over, Silas,” Emanuel said, regaining control of the conversation. “I’ll call you in two days with the meeting place in Manaus. Bring Raul and don’t screw it up.”
He tossed the cell onto the bed of coconut leaves.
The oca seemed smaller, although she knew it was her impression and not reality. The wood logs didn’t close in on her; what shrunk was her sense of security. She crossed her arms and stroked one elbow, desperate to protect herself. In two days, she would say good-bye to the man she’d come to care for against all her common sense. Best not to think about it.
“You okay?” Emanuel rubbed her back.
“Somewhat. I’m getting ready mentally. In two days, everything will change, and I can’t stop any of it. It’s my debutante party all over again.”
He planted a kiss on her bare shoulder. “Don’t dwell on it now.”
Easy for him to say. When it came to compartmentalizing emotion, Emanuel was North Korea and she was Switzerland. He’d been brutally honest from the beginning, and she had put up a diplomatic front in hopes that she would believe her own farce. Maybe denial is partly written on my DNA. I didn’t want to believe my father was guilty, and now I prefer to avoid thinking about the depth of my feelings for Emanuel.
“C’mon.” He stood up and held out his hand so she would follow him. “Let’s do something.”
The last time he’d said those words, they’d had sex for hours. Her vagina clenched, memories of his mouth on her, licking every bit of her. Do something was code for sweaty, skin slapping sex.
He winked at her, probably reading her mind. “Something outside.”
Since when had that ever stopped them? “Technically, we are outside. This is the jungle.”
He rubbed a finger down her nose. “Don’t get cute. C’mon.”
Sighing, she left the hut and followed him to the maize plantation.
As far as the eye could see, a plantation of beans, corn, maize, and other vegetables and fruits spread on the soil. She loved to watch her steps as they walked through the corn plantation. The crunchy sound of the corn cutting from the tall stem made her happy. She’d helped with picking food the last few days and was getting good at it.
“Not that one.” She pointed when Emanuel was about to cut a piece from the tree. “It’s not ready yet.”
“Look at you, princesa. You’ve found your true talent.”
“Well, if you insist, I’ve been thinking about opening a fruit stand in Manhattan. That could come in handy on my new lease on life,” she said, desperate to inject humor in a situation she dreaded more than anything.
He balked and stared at her with a piece of corn in his hand. “Linda,” he whispered.
She ran her hand through her hair. Beautiful? Sweat slicked between her breasts, on her neck and arms. Recently, she’d acquired a farmer’s tan she doubted any tanning booth or lotion would eliminate. Yet, he found her pretty and looked at her like she was a piece of filet mignon and he hadn’t had a meal in days. Her nipples hardened. Make it weeks.
Two steps in her direction. Her heart fluttered.
He offered her a dirty, shameless grin that knotted her insides, then released only to clench harder again.
A cry startled her, and even though he hadn’t touched her yet, she shook her head and jerked back. The sound reverberated through her, the voice of a desperate woman. “What’s going on?”
He pointed at the other side of the maize. “It’s coming from that direction. Away from the camp. C’mon,” he said, and made his way through the chops and bushes. As usual, he headed first, using a knife to clear a path. She had never gone to the other side but followed him as the shouts grew louder.
“What could this be? Some random act of violence?” she asked, catching her breath as he quickened his pace. What if her father had discovered their location and sent those two criminals again? And they ran into someone from the tribe? Her blood chilled. She wouldn’t jeopardize these people’s lives. If that was the case, she would have to go with them—and screw Emanuel’s plan.
“Stay behind me and don’t say anything,” he said in a low and controlled voice. The sounds became more painful, and Emanuel slowed down. He parted a couple of bushes with his hands, and the rustle from long leaves against one another quickened her pulse.
It was a wooden tent, square shaped and much bigger than the oval hut they had at the camp. An Itopi man walked inside the tent, then quickly outside, massaging his temples and talking to himself. Visibly nervous.
“C’mon. That’s Peri,” Emanuel said. She then remembered the face of the young man she saw the other day, the newlywed whose wife was pregnant. Emanuel stretched out his hand to her, helping her out, and she ran her other hand through her hair, shaking off any small leaves or seeds that could have fallen.
Emanuel talked to the man whose face relaxed for a fleeting moment.
She braced herself, anxious to understand what was going on.
“His wife is losing her baby. She’s having cramps and bleeding.” Emanuel turned to her after a few exchanges with Peri.
“She needs to go to a hospital. We need to get her out of here.” She doubted an ambulance would do the job, but maybe they could airlift her. Damn it. He had money and connections. He could make it happen.
“We’re too far into the land for an ambulance, and she’d never agree to go on a helicopter,” Emanuel said with a trace of frustration in his voice.
Another wail from inside.
She leaned closer, tilting her head to one side as if she misheard Emanuel and needed to listen. Why on Earth would anyone not agree to get the medical care they needed? “Why not?”
“Because the Itopis believe helicopters and planes are not natural; they call them robot birds. They’d rather die than be transported in one of them. And she can’t cross the river to go to the nearest town for help. She could get an infection.” He shoved his hand in his hair, letting out a sigh of pure frustration.
“What can we do?” she asked while Peri ran inside the oca to check on his wife. What a rollercoaster of emotions. They got married, then pregnant, and now they’d deal with the loss of the baby. Erika kicked a few rocks out of the way. She wanted to go inside and be there for Tacira, but she’d wait until her husband returned and okayed her to go in.
Peri returned and spoke in quick Portuguese to Emanuel.
“There is an old lady in the tribe who helps women deliver. A doula. I’ll go back into the tribe to find her and bring her here,” Emanuel said translating.
Peri wiped the tears rolling down his cheeks and said something else.
Emanuel nodded. “He’ll come, too. He knows the doula, and it’ll be faster this way.”
“Okay, I’ll stay with her. I’m guessing they don’t have a thermometer so I can’t check for fever?” she said, and then a second later felt silly for asking such a question. Her shoulders sagged. “Where are her parents? Are you getting them, too?” They should know about it even if they didn’t know what to do or disagreed on the course of treatment.
“They are both deceased,” Emanuel said.
No parents. Seems we have something in common. The thought assailed her as Peri rushed her into the oca again, and explained their plan to his wife, who lay on a makeshift bed on the floor with a couple of blankets on her. She quivered, her face sweaty, and eyes fixed on the ceiling. She looked nothing like the happy bride from a few days ago.
“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Emanuel popped in.
Erika kneeled by the woman and touched her forehead. “Yes. Bring the lady who can help her. She needs a thermometer, pads, something to bring down the fever.”
“Thanks. I’ll also call a local doctor using my cell phone back at the camp. See if we can fly him here so he can give her a better look. For now the doula must do.”
Erika nodded at him, and he and Peri left.
Tacira moaned and moved from side to side like she was looking for a comfortable position but couldn’t find one. Erika leaned over her and shushed the same way her mother used to do when she was young and sick. As a little girl, nothing got her better faster than her mother nursing her. As a teenager, though she would never admit it, she appreciated when the social butterfly Amelia Lancaster chose to stay home instead of going to a high-rolling fundraiser because her daughter had a stomach bug or high temperature. “You’ll be okay,” Erika whispered, not caring that the woman didn’t understand.
The girl turned to her, and Erika picked up a hand towel from beside her, along with a plethora of handmade lotions and other products she couldn’t name, and a bamboo bowl with what looked like fresh water. Maybe her husband had picked it up from a spring. She dipped the towel in the water, then twisted the towel, and placed it on Tacira’s forehead.
The woman mumbled something, her long lashes fluttering over her eyes.
“Twinkle twinkle little star…how I wonder where you are.” Erika started to sing, her voice probably so bad it would worsen Tacira’s condition. Resolute, she continued to sing the lullaby her mother used to soothe her with when she fell ill. It was the same lullaby Erika used on the children at the hospitals where she volunteered.
Emotion welled up inside her throat, and she had to fight back tears as she massaged Tacira’s temple. In a way she grieved, too. This girl lost her baby, and I’ve lost my father. Could she lose what she never had? Silas never pretended to be the touchy-feely type, or the dad type—and that dynamic always gave her a little bit of hope for the future. Hope that now was gone.
The woman clenched her hand, and Erika squeezed it back. For the time being, a song was all they had.
…
“Are we far?” Yara asked. Pushing sixty, the tribe doula had been a trooper when Emanuel had asked her to come. She silently gathered her things in a large canvas bag and followed him and Peri. He expected her to ask more questions about Tacira’s health, but the short lady simply tossed her long braids to the side and kept her pace.
“No. Ten more minutes at most,” Peri answered. For the last hour, he had barely said a word, his young face aging about ten years. Commitment shifted people’s priorities, and that wasn’t something Emanuel could afford. If he wanted to continue his work, he had to remember that. Juggling the finance world with philanthropy proved hard enough, and adding a wife and kids to the mix would be unfair to all his other roles.
Why am I even considering commitment and marriage? Why waste time pondering a closed subject? His gut clenched. You know why, a voice inside him snapped. Ever since he’d seen the way she stepped in to help, his heart flipped more than an Olympic gymnast. She’d accepted all he’d told her about her father and was willing to help him. More than that, she’d acted like a partner in crime, someone who would have his back. He swallowed hard, pushing the lump lodged in his dry throat. Could she be someone who would add to his life and not subtract?
His cell buzzed in his pocket. How much longer would he be able to ignore the voicemails and text messages from friends and family? He fished it out of his jeans and inhaled. Ignoring most people was part of his plan, but that didn’t include Bruno and Addie.
“About time,” Bruno said when Emanuel picked up. “I know you’re in the Amazon.”
“How?”
“Your pilot doesn’t seem to know what a confidentiality agreement is.”
Shit. His pilot had a big mouth, though Emanuel paid a lot for his discretion. “Well, at least my secret is safe with you, brother. Did Erika’s father contact you?”
“Yes. I told him I had nothing to do with it, but I was on your side,” Bruno said. At least their brother Leonardo, the stickler lawyer in the family, was still in the dark. If he’d known, Emanuel’s plan was toast. Leonardo would find a way to get to them and abort the whole mission—or at least he would try.
“Thanks. Listen, in a couple of days I’ll meet Silas, and I need to be prepared.” The message implied his brother needed to be prepared for the consequences, too. “I don’t want you to get mixed up with what I’ve done, which is why I haven’t told you much.”
“I understand but I’m still on your side. How’s Erika?” Bruno said.
Emanuel cleared his throat. Maybe if he and his brother were drinking a beer at the beach or chatting on the porch of Bruno’s house, they could talk about it. Now, as he sprinted to return to Erika and the ailing girl who just lost her baby? Not so much. “She’s good. Does anyone besides us know anything about the kidnapping? The media? I don’t want any information about this to leak and jeopardize our plan.” My plan. Why did he act like Erika was in on it? Well, she agreed to his plan and did everything they’d talked about so far, but a little voice inside him warned him, Be careful. Don’t get ahead of yourself.
“I’ll keep an eye out for rumors and let you know. Silas is sure quiet.”
Emanuel snorted. “He doesn’t want to drag his name through the mud.”
“True, but he hates losing. Are you confident he’ll give you the upper hand and give you Raul’s location or bring him to you?”
“I think he has a hidden agenda, but he also wants his daughter back for all she represents,” Emanuel said. He doubted the old man recognized how smart and witty his daughter was, how she could light up a dark room with her infectious, easy laughter. How she had a way of paying attention to people’s needs.
“What about you? Are you leaving on good terms with her?”
Emanuel clenched the cell in his hand. “What?”
“It’s not her fault she’s Lancaster’s daughter. I know you can be stubborn at times and wanted to make sure you’re not giving her a hard time because of it,” Bruno said, concerned.
Snippets of their time together flashed in Emanuel’s mind. The sweet way her plump lips broke into a smile when she teased him. Her honesty-above-everything policy that could have landed her in hot water when she admitted to the Souzas she was Lancaster’s daughter. Air sucked out of his lungs, and he suspected it wasn’t because of the vigorous hike. “I’m trying my best not to give her a hard time,” he said, and hoped he meant it.