Chapter 28

 

They woke at first light. After they were dressed and had condensed what they needed into one pack for John to carry, they shared the chocolate bar for breakfast. Neither of them seemed inclined to talk. It was as though the day loomed over them. Belinda felt the jungle pressing in on her. With each agonising step she took, it became harder to see things to delight in. Instead, it was a world of danger and treachery, ready to pounce and eat her alive. Even the colourful macaws couldn’t lift her mood. All she wanted was to go home.

The compression bandage on her knee helped somewhat, although it still hurt to walk, especially over ground that was uneven and littered with obstacles. The wound in her side throbbed with fiery pain, and she suspected it was infected. Not from the jungle, but from the dirty knife that had been used to cut her. She didn’t mention it to John—there was nothing he could do about it—and she’d lathered the site in antiseptic cream and hoped for the best. If there had been antibiotics in their stolen medical kit, she would have taken them, but the only medication she’d found was aspirin. She’d taken two, hoping they’d help her walk on her swollen knee.

“We can stop here for a few minutes,” John said as he looked back at her. “Get our bearings. Make sure you drink enough.”

Thanks to her bamboo trick, they had plenty of water. They needed it. The heat sucked the moisture out of their bodies with an unrelenting greed. Belinda didn’t argue; she sat on the nearest tree stump beside her, took the water bottle John handed to her and drank. It didn’t matter how much she drank—she still felt as though she were dying of thirst.

John gave her a look that said he was worried about her, and she answered with a smile that made the cut on her lip sting. He crouched in front of her, tucking her tangled hair behind her ear. His face was soft, his eyes tender. She blinked back the tears that sprang to her eyes.

“Don’t be nice to me right now,” she said. “I think I would crumple.”

“Me? Nice? You’re thinking of a different man, Hollywood. Tell me who he is so I can introduce him to the Beast.” He flashed his tattooed knuckles at her.

She traced a fingertip over the letters. “When did you get this done?”

“When I was fourteen. I won my first underground fight and I wanted to celebrate.”

“Fourteen,” she said softly. “So young. At fourteen, I was in a high school for the performing arts and worried I wouldn’t get the lead in our Christmas production.”

“Did you? Get the lead?” His voice was tender.

It was hard to imagine him fighting to survive on the street while she chased boys, discussed lipstick with her friends and dreamed of becoming the next Ingrid Bergman.

“Yes,” she said. “It led to a role in a West End play. My first professional job.”

“At fourteen?” He sounded impressed.

She nodded. She still remembered the excitement of winning the role. Her mother had spent weeks going over the part with her, helping her master the nuances of the character. Her father had attended rehearsals with her and subtly, for him, given directorial advice to everyone who’d listen. Belinda had wallowed in their support. She’d soaked up their attention and thrived on it. All the while, at the same age, John had been alone on the streets.

“Don’t feel bad for me, Hollywood,” John said, proving yet again that he could read her mind. “I had good things in my life too. At fourteen, I met Joe, Grunt, Harvard, and Noah. They never once looked at me differently because I was a street kid. Harvard’s mother took me under her wing, shouted at me until I went back to school, then hounded me until my grades were acceptable to her. Joe’s mom fed me every time I turned up at her house, which was a lot. That woman can cook. Noah’s parents let me sleep in his room more times than I can remember. And Grunt, well, even as a kid he was the size of a house. He mainly scared the crap out of anyone who gave me a hard time.”

She smiled, lifted his hand to her mouth and took her time kissing each of the letters. They were precious. They were marks testifying to his survival. She gathered her courage and looked him square in the eyes. What she saw there, the emotion in his gaze, made her heart swell. “I don’t want this to end when we get out of here,” she whispered.

She was laying her heart on a platter at his feet, hoping he didn’t trample all over it when he ran from her.

He turned his hand over in her grasp to thread his fingers with hers. “Baby, we live in different worlds.”

“Then we make a new one. One that fits us both.”

“I don’t think it’s that easy. People will talk about you. They’ll wonder what you’re doing with someone like me. They’ll think there’s an angle I’m playing, and they’ll dig into my past. What will happen once all those tabloid reporters find out I’m the son of a hooker? How will you cope with that? Hell, I don’t even know how I’d cope. Being with me will damage your reputation, Hollywood. Maybe even your career.”

“That’s rubbish.” Like she would care if it did. People could think what they liked. She projected an image for them anyway. None of them really knew her. Their opinions counted for nothing. “Don’t make excuses, John. If you don’t want to be with me, say so.”

“Now, isn’t this sweet?” someone said from beside John.

They jerked apart. John was on his feet. He spun towards the threat and found a gun pressed against his chest. Belinda gasped as the blood drained from her face. They’d been caught. It was over. They were going to die.

The man shouted something over his shoulder in Spanish then smirked at John. And John moved like lightning. His fist struck out, hitting the man in his throat, while John grabbed the gun with his other hand. He twisted it away from the man as he grasped his throat, gasping for breath. He collapsed to the forest floor.

John turned to her, put a hand under her arm and hoisted her to her feet.

“Run,” he ordered her. “Lean on me. But run.”

They set off, racing into the jungle, letting it swallow them whole. They heard shouts behind them, sharp orders snapped in a language Belinda wished she’d taken the time to learn. John dragged her along, but Belinda knew she was slowing them down. Every few steps she took, her knee gave way. She wouldn’t last much longer.

“There.” He pointed at a tree with the gun. “Up the tree. We can hide. Or defend ourselves if necessary. Hopefully they won’t even see us.” He didn’t wait for her answer before he was lifting her into the tree. “Go as high as you can.”

He was close behind her. Together they climbed until John put his hand on her arm and stilled her. She was out of breath, gasping for oxygen in the thick soup that made up the Amazon’s air. Her knee was agony. It throbbed continuously, sending sharp streaks of pain up and down her leg.

“Down.” He pushed her flat to her belly on the thick branch beneath her.

A second later, he was on his stomach on the branch next to hers. The leaves surrounded them, hiding them from above and below. Voices drew closer, and Beast motioned for her to stay silent. Belinda held her breath, afraid even that would alert someone to their presence. There was the unmistakable sound of something crashing through the foliage, and then Belinda heard people beneath them.

She waited, praying for a miracle as the men shouted to each other in Spanish. There was some sort of commotion, and then they ran past the tree where Belinda and John hid. Her heart beat so loud in her chest that she was sure everyone could hear it. It was a drum, summoning her attackers to her position. Calm—she had to be calm. She inched her hand towards John and wrapped her fingers in his shirt at this side.

And then they waited.

 

 

There had been five men. Now there were four. Beast had taken one out, and they weren’t happy about it. They shouted to each other as they frantically searched the forest, looking for any sign of Beast and Belinda.

Beast was painfully aware of Belinda’s ragged breathing. She was in pain. Her leg was worse than she let on, and she was running a fever, which told him her body was fighting an infection. Probably from one of the knife wounds the bastard had given her. She needed a doctor. If things got worse, she’d need a hospital. Time was fast running out for them.

The sounds of the men crashing around faded into normal jungle noise. They’d run ahead of Beast and Belinda’s hiding place, thinking the pair were still running. Beast kept an eye on the time and waited. They couldn’t stay up the tree indefinitely. This wasn’t the first team of men the kidnappers had sent into the forest to find them. These men weren’t the ones Beast had stolen from the night before, and from what he’d overheard, there were other teams out looking for them too. The leader of the kidnappers had offered a reward for whoever managed to return them to him. Their chances of making it out of the forest without getting caught were getting smaller by the minute.

Beside him, Belinda shivered, in heat warm enough to cook chicken. She was definitely running a fever. He looked over at her and noted that her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were a little glassy. She smiled at him, and his heart melted. For a woman who understood dramatic timing, she’d sure picked exactly the wrong moment to tell him she wanted a future outside of the jungle. He’d given her the sensible answer. It was not the one he’d wanted to give her. His newly discovered heart had told him to hold on to her and never let her go.

“Is it safe now?” she mouthed.

Beast checked his watch; forty minutes had passed. If the men were going to head back towards them, they would have done so by now.

“I’ll go down first, make sure it’s clear.” It also meant he could hold her up. She didn’t look like she had the strength to climb down a tree.

She nodded and fell silent again. Beast was worried. His Belinda wasn’t quiet. His Belinda chattered when she was scared. He trailed his fingertips across her forehead on the pretence of brushing her hair out of her eyes. She was burning up. Beast swallowed hard. His medical knowledge was about as good as his jungle craft. All he knew for sure was that he had to get her to help, and fast.

Slowly, he shifted to his feet and made his way down the tree, stopping every couple of feet to listen. He signalled Belinda to follow, watching carefully when she did. Her usual agile movements were awkward and stiff, a sure sign that things were getting worse. Together, they made their way to the ground, where they stood still and listened.

Belinda swayed against him, and Beast put and arm around her to steady her. “Can you walk?” There was no way she could run.

She nodded, but her eyes told him she wasn’t sure.

“There’s no need, Señorita,” someone behind Beast said in Spanish. “We can carry you.”

Beast froze. Belinda’s eyes went wide and she started shaking. Two more men stepped out from behind the wide tree and came up behind Belinda. Beast felt the muzzle of a gun pressed to the base of his skull.

“I saw what you did to my friend,” the owner of the gun said. “I will not be so stupid. Do not turn. Do not move. Or my friends over there will kill the woman.”

Belinda didn’t understand what he was saying, and she looked at him for translation. “John?” she whispered as she held tight to his arms.

“Do what they say, baby. Everything is going to be okay.” He kept his voice even, imbuing it with as much confidence as he could muster, hoping she’d take his lead and remain calm.

She nodded, her eyes filling with tears. She knew this was bad. How could she not?

“What are you going to do with us?” he asked the man in Spanish.

“Take you to Martinez. He’s been looking for you. You ran out on him before he was finished with you.”

“He won’t like it if you hurt the girl,” Beast said.

“No. But he doesn’t care about you.” Beast felt a harsh blow to his kidney and doubled over in pain. “Disarm him,” the guy barked to his friends.

Someone ripped Beast’s pack from his shoulders. Another took the knife from his belt. His arms were dragged behind his back and tightly secured before the man behind him shoved him forward.

“Don’t do anything stupid or we will take it out on the girl. We were told not to hurt her,” the man said as he stepped forward and leered at Beast. “We weren’t told not to use her.”

“John?” Belinda sobbed, tears streaming down her face as one of the men held her back. “John?”

“I’m okay,” Beast said when he could breathe again.

Belinda was swaying, her cheeks red and her eyes glazed. Beast took a step towards her. It was too late. Her eyes rolled back and she crumpled to the ground.

“What’s wrong with her?” one of their captors demanded.

“She has a fever,” Beast said. “She needs medicine. Water.”

The man studied Belinda, who lay crumped on the ground. No one moved to help her. One of them toed her with his boot, making Beast growl.

“Don’t.” The gun was pressed harder to his head. “Don’t harm her,” Beast said. Nothing would stop him if they did. No amount of binding would keep him from them.

“I don’t think it’s an act,” the man who’d toed Belinda said. “We have to carry her.”

The men leered at each other before one of them lifted Belinda and hefted her over his shoulder. She hung like a rag doll, and Beast let out another low growl.

“Be careful with her.”

The men laughed at him.

“Move.” He was shoved in the back with the barrel of a gun. “Martinez is eager to see you again. Don’t worry. We aren’t far from him now.”

Beast didn’t care who was waiting for them. All he cared about was the sight of Belinda dangling sick and vulnerable over the shoulder of the man in front of him. Even if he had to die to do it, he was going to find some way to get her out of this in one piece.