Chapter 33

 

Belinda woke to a wonderful realisation—she wasn’t in the jungle anymore. She knew this because the oppressive heat and heady aromas of the forest had been replaced by cool, lavender-scented air. Instead of the sound of chattering monkeys, chirping birds and buzzing insects, there was only the hum of an air conditioning unit and a gentle, distant beeping. Beneath her, the harsh textures of tree bark and dirt had been replaced by clean, soft cotton.

But more than cool air and clean sheets, the presence of a large body lying beside her made her heart race. The body was warm, solid and familiar. Belinda didn’t dare move or open her eyes for fear she was imagining things. Which, considering the fog in her head and the throbbing pain in her temples, could be a very real possibility. Her memory was hazy, coming to her in fits and starts.

She remembered clawing her way up the ladder on the side of the crater. She remembered the dead guard lying at the top of the hole, staring at her sightlessly. She remembered the ferocious fight between John and one of the Martinez brothers. Both men had been covered in mud and blood, and they’d launched themselves at each other with terrifying violence. She remembered John standing over the body of the brother as he fell. And then…the sight of the second brother, rising from the mud and pointing a gun straight at his back. She hadn’t thought. She’d only reacted. She’d snatched the gun from the man beside her and fired. After that, she remembered nothing at all.

“You might as well open your eyes. I know you’re awake.”

Belinda’s eyes popped open at the sound of the deep American accent she adored. She blinked against light that felt like ice picks stabbing into her brain and waited as his face came into focus. He was lying on his side with his head supported on his hand, and he looked at her with a dark intensity that made her smile.

“Is this real?” she said. “Did we make it out of there?”

A delicious smile softened his face and made her want to trace his lips with her fingertips. But she didn’t move, afraid it was all just a dream.

“Let’s go over it one more time,” he said. “The kidnapping was real, not fake. The rescue was real, not fake. You’re here with me now. It’s real. Not fake.” His eyes crinkled and sparkled, making her heart race.

“Where is here?”

“Cusco hospital.” He reached out and brushed the hair from her face. “You gave us a fright there for a while.”

“How long is a while?”

“Two days.” He made it sound like an eternity.

There was a cut on his cheek, taped with butterfly strips. His right eye was black and blue.

“We’re a pair,” she said. “Do you have other injuries?” She looked down his body, but couldn’t see any evidence.

“Couple of cracked ribs and a flesh wound on my arm. Nothing I can’t cope with.”

Her stomach sank. “Flesh wound?”

“It’s nothing. A scratch. How do you feel? You were pretty out of it for a while. They’ve been pumping you full of antibiotics and fluids.”

Belinda did a mental inventory of her body. “I don’t feel too bad. Tired. Weak. My knee is still sore. But that’s about it.”

“You’re on painkillers. You dislocated your knee. They had to operate to fix it. You’ll be fine, although it might take a while.” The words he didn’t say hung heavily between them—things could have been a whole lot worse for both of them.

She swallowed, her mouth dry. “What happened? I remember up until climbing out of that hole. I had a gun. Did I…?” She couldn’t say the words. Part of her, a bigger part than she’d like to admit, didn’t want to know if she’d killed a man.

“Did you save my life?” He leaned in and kissed the tip of her nose. “Hell yeah. You know what that means? I owe you a life debt. You’re stuck with me until I repay it.”

A surge of hope shot through her, but… “That isn’t a real thing, John. It’s a plot device used in old westerns.”

“Nope, you’re wrong, baby. It’s a real thing. I can’t leave you until I’ve paid the debt.” He was solemn, but his eyes burned with sensual intent.

“How long do you think it will take to pay this debt?” Her voice trembled, betraying just how important his answer was to her. She wanted him to stay. She wanted to try for something special together outside of the jungle. She wanted a chance at making this thing between them work, at getting to know him when something or someone wasn’t trying to kill them. She wanted it so badly that her heart actually ached from it.

“I’m thinking that it’s gonna take a lifetime, Hollywood.”

Her hand moved then. It curled in his blue T-shirt, tangling in the material above his heart. “Don’t say that if you don’t mean it.” She couldn’t bear it if he was teasing. It was far too important to her.

“I mean every single word. You asked me for a chance when we got out of the jungle, and I thought you were mad. The world would laugh at us, an MMA fighter with a Hollywood princess. They’d hound us every step of the way, making life hard for us. But I learned something important while we were out there.”

“What?” she whispered, barely holding on to her courage to ask.

“I learned that you aren’t a Hollywood princess—you’re Belinda. And you can cope with whatever the world throws at us.”

She sucked in a breath. “And you’re the strongest man I’ve ever known. You aren’t your past, or your profession, or where you were born. You’re just John.”

“Only to you, baby, only to you.”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake, what have I told you?” someone snapped from the doorway, and Belinda looked up to see her mother barrel in. There were tears in her eyes. “Get out of that bed right now, or I’ll take a shoe to your backside.”

“Crap, it’s your mom again,” John whispered. “You gotta save me, baby. I don’t know what to do with her.”

His face became a blank mask as he ignored her mother’s order. Instead, he scooted up until he was sitting against the headboard. Then he reached down and slid Belinda up to lean against his side. It was unclear to Belinda whether he wanted to keep her close because he’d missed her, or whether he was using her as a shield against her mum.

“That boy doesn’t listen to a word I say,” her mother complained as she hurried around to the opposite side of the bed to John. Only Libby Collins would call John a boy. Her mum pulled Belinda, ever so gently, out of John’s hold. “I was so worried,” she said, her voice cracking. “I thought we’d lost you.” And then she enfolded Belinda in that special hug only a mother knew how to give.

“I’m okay now.” Belinda fought the urge to weep like a child. “John saved me.”

“From what I hear, you saved him.”

Belinda smiled. “We saved each other, Mum.”

She breathed in her mother’s special fragrance, a strange blend of roses and Earl Grey tea. She would bet that her mum was staring John down. She didn’t interfere. If he was serious about sticking around, then he’d have to get used to her family. And, unfortunately, her family took a lot of getting used to.

“You’re awake!” Belinda looked over to see her grandmother, Patricia, standing in the doorway. She was dressed in a chic red jumpsuit, with oversized wooden bangles and Audrey Hepburn sunglasses. Behind her was Patricia’s best friend, Alice, who was dressed like a bag lady.

The two of them rushed into the room and crowded around Belinda and her mother, wrapping them both in a massive hug.

“Family hug,” her grandmother shouted. “Don’t break the invalid.”

Another set of arms joined the rugby scrum, and Belinda looked up into her sister’s tear-filled eyes.

“I thought you were on honeymoon,” Belinda said.

“I was.” Julia sniffed. “Until I found out about your kidnapping—on the news.” She cast a glare over her shoulder at her husband, Joe, who was talking with John. “He knew and he didn’t tell me.”

“I was protecting you,” Joe said with a shake of his head.

“I’m not talking to him. I might never again,” Julia said, which was a worry, as she was the most stubborn person Belinda knew. If anyone could pull off a threat like that, it was Julia. “When you back the car into a bollard, it’s okay not to tell your wife. When her sister’s kidnapped and then lost in the jungle—you tell your wife. It isn’t rocket science.”

“Belle,” her father boomed, and like the Red Sea, her family parted to allow him access to her. “Never again, you hear me? My heart can’t take it. Never again.” He blinked back tears as he wrapped her in a bone-crushing hug.

“Can’t breathe,” she joked.

There was a growl. “Step back, Mr Collins. She only woke up and she’s still fragile.”

John. Watching over her. Protecting her from her family. He was woefully misguided, although very sweet.

“Listen here, Mr Beast,” her father said. “I’ll damn well hug my daughter any time I like.”

John didn’t like that one bit. He opened his mouth to protest, but Joe put a hand on his arm and shook his head. “Family,” Joe said. “Just go with it.”

John stepped back, but he clearly didn’t like it. He looked a little lost, and a lot alone, out there on the edge of the room while Belinda was surrounded by people she loved. She held out a hand for him. “Come here,” she said.

He was by her side in a second, holding her as though she were a lifeline. Her father watched the interaction with a frown before looking at John.

“You and I are going to have a little talk about your intentions towards my daughter,” he said.

“Dad,” Belinda said.

She briefly wondered if she should fake a fainting episode to clear the room and head her father off, but her family knew her too well and wouldn’t be fooled.

John stared her father down. “I have nothing to hide. I intend to stick to her like glue for the rest of my life.”

Belinda’s mother gasped, her grandmother feigned a swoon and Alice got stuck into a box of chocolates someone had left beside her bed.

“In what capacity?” her father demanded. “Her bodyguard? Her lover? Her husband? What?”

“Now I’m wishing I was still in the jungle,” Belinda whined as she looked up at John. “Don’t answer him. It’s none of his business.”

“It’s an easy answer, baby,” he said, his eyes still on her dad. “The answer is all of the above. I’m going to be her bodyguard, lover and one day, her husband.”

Belinda’s mouth fell open. “You can’t know that.”

“Baby, we had an intense start. We saw the worst of each other. We know more about each other than some couples know after years together. So, yeah, I can know what I want.”

“You haven’t even said you love me. How can you talk about marriage when nobody’s mentioned love?”

“I was kinda hoping for some privacy for that part.”

“Too late now,” her grandmother said as she dug into the chocolates with Alice.

Belinda glanced around the room to see everyone watching them. She swallowed hard. “I see what you mean.” As much as she loved her family, she wished they were far, far away right now.

The door opened and her brother strode in. He saw she was awake and came straight to her. He took her free hand in his. “Belle, I am so sorry about the press.”

She blinked at him. “What about the press?”

He looked at her for a heartbeat, then flashed his killer smile. “Nothing. No worries. I’m glad you’re okay.” He pulled her in for a quick hug before heading over to lean on the wall. He looked pleased, as though he’d managed to get away with something. Belinda made a mental note to find out what, after she regained some energy.

She must have looked like she was fading, because John shooed everyone back and fluffed her pillows. He handed her a glass of iced water, then placed a pillow under her damaged knee. She couldn’t take her eyes from him; she was mesmerised by the way his muscles flexed as he cared for her. When she did eventually drag her eyes away, she found all of the women in her family grinning at her, and the men scowling.

“What?” she said.

“Nothing,” her mother said. “We’ll talk about it later.”

“Hey ho,” someone called as the door opened again, and Elle walked in, her laptop under her arm. She was followed by Lake, Callum and Rachel.

Everyone shuffled around to make space for them, and even though Belinda suspected she had one of the largest private rooms in the hospital, it was starting to feel a little crowded.

“How are you feeling?” Lake asked. Out of the three owners, he was the only one who was house-trained.

“Claustrophobic?” Belinda said, looking around the room.

Lake’s lip twitched. “We’ll get out of your hair as fast as we can. First, we have news.”

There was a heavily pregnant pause.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake,” her grandmother said. “We’re supposed to be the dramatic ones. Spit it out.”

Lake smiled. It was small, but Belinda definitely saw it. “Okay, we know who was behind your kidnapping.”

Belinda sucked in a breath and reached for John. He sat on the bed beside her and put his arm around her, tucking her in to his side.

Callum watched the move carefully. “Does this mean you’re saying no to our job offer?”

“This means you talk about Belinda’s security with me,” John said.

“You taking a wage?” Callum asked.

John stiffened. “No. I have investments and you’re going to let me moonlight for Benson Security—when I’m not with Belinda.”

“Got it all figured out, then,” Callum said. “Nice of you to let us know how we can fit in with your life.”

“Give it a rest,” Joe said. “You know you’re going to take him up on the offer.” He grinned at John. “Welcome to the team.”

Belinda angled her head to look up at him. “What just happened?”

“Nothing important, baby.” John turned to Lake. “Who was it?”

“Elle?” Lake said.

Elle fiddled with her laptop before switching the TV on. “I managed to trace the money in your driver’s bank account to the people who paid him to arrange the kidnapping.” Belinda felt the blood drain from her face at the thought of Brian betraying her like that. She’d believed they’d had a friendship, and she’d been totally wrong. John stroked her arm, aware that she was trembling, and his comfort helped.

“We handed the evidence we dug up to the police, and they made an arrest.” She pointed at the TV with the remote. “I recorded this earlier. Thought you might like to see.”

A CNN news report filled the screen. In the corner of a live feed from an L.A. police station was a head shot of a director she’d worked with the previous year. The banner at the bottom of the screen read: Ethan Stratford—arrested in connection with Belinda Collins kidnapping.

Belinda sucked in a breath and her heart raced. John pulled her closer, as though he could protect her from what she was about to see.

The reporter stood in front of the police station doors and looked into the camera. “This morning, Hollywood director Ethan Stratford was charged in connection with the kidnapping of Belinda Collins and her friend John Garcia. Sources tell us that the director not only arranged for the kidnapping to take place but is also suspected of feeding money into a Peruvian cartel.”

“That little worm,” Belinda’s mother said. “I never liked him. Rubbish director, too.”

“It is believed,” the reporter continued, “that Stratford arranged to have Collins kidnapped as an attempt to drum up interest in his new movie. The movie, Ransom, was shot with Collins early last year and is due for release in the fall.”

“I’ll call our lawyers,” Belinda’s father said. “When I’m through with him, no distribution company on the planet will touch that movie. I promise you, sweetheart. It will never see the light of day.”

“Thanks, Dad.” Belinda flashed him a grateful smile.

“The movie plot follows a kidnap victim played by Collins,” the reporter said, “and it is believed that Stratford thought having the actress kidnapped in real life would add authenticity to a movie that has had a slew of unforgiving early reviews.”

“Unforgiving?” Belinda’s mother snorted. “They slaughtered him. And he deserved every word. You were the only thing in that whole mess worth watching, darling.”

Belinda wasn’t sure that was any consolation, but she flashed her mother a smile anyway. There was a commotion on the screen behind the reporter, and the doors to the L.A. police station opened. Ethan was escorted out, handcuffed between two cops. Reporters pressed in on them and were held back by more police. As the reporters shouted questions at the director, Belinda stared at his face.

There he was, the man behind it all. The person responsible for their suffering. The person who’d sold her to men who would rape her, and kill her and John. And for what? For a movie?

“Turn it off,” she said to Elle. “I’ve seen enough.”

The screen went black as Belinda pressed her face to John’s chest. The overwhelming feeling of betrayal, of being used to save someone else some money, was too much to bear.

“Don’t worry, my love,” her gran said. “That little skunk is going to jail. I’ve been in jail. It’s no picnic. And he isn’t as sturdy as I am. He’s a skinny little thing with no backbone. I give him two days before someone makes him their pet. And I totally mean that in an unwillingly sexual way.”

“Gran!” Julia said.

“What?” Gran said with genuine confusion. “We want him to suffer, don’t we?”

“That’s not the point,” Belinda’s mother said. “You aren’t helping. And you were only in a holding cell for two days. You’re hardly an expert.”

“I still have nightmares,” Gran said dramatically.

Belinda tuned her family out as she turned her face towards John; she was barely holding it together. “John,” she whispered, “can you make them leave now?”

“Sure, baby.” He kissed her hair. “Okay, everybody out. Belinda’s had enough, we’re done here.”

She could only imagine what his face must have looked like, because not a single person argued. Instead, there was the noise of people shuffling out of the room and then there was silence.

Belinda clung to John. “I’m so sorry,” she said as tears fell, wetting his shirt. “This was all my fault. You were kidnapped because of me. Because that man used us for a publicity stunt.”

John gently but firmly held her chin and lifted her face to him. “Don’t ever apologise to me for something somebody else did. You hear me?” There was fire in his eyes.

She nodded and then her bottom lip trembled. “I trusted him. I trusted my driver and my bodyguards. I trusted them and I was wrong. How do I know who to trust now?”

“You can trust me,” he said. “I’ll weed out the rest.”

She lifted her hand to his cheek as she stared into those intense, pale eyes of his. “I do trust you,” she whispered.

“Then trust this too, baby. Sometime in that jungle, I fell in love with you. Not the actress you give the world, but you. Belinda Collins.” He placed her palm flat over his heart. “You own this now. I will always stand between you and harm. Always. So, trust me. Trust me to look out for you. Trust me to love you. Trust me to stand with you no matter what life brings. Trust me.”

“John,” she whispered as tears fell. She lifted her face to his, wanting his lips, and he gave them to her. The kiss was soft, slow, gentle. Each touch of lips to lips was a word. A promise. A declaration of hope.

“I do trust you, John. Don’t you know I love you? How could I not? I don’t know what the future will bring for us, but I do know I don’t want to let you go. I love you, John Garcia. I love you.”

She gave him the words against his mouth and went willingly when he deepened the kiss. A lot had been taken from her during her time in the jungle, but what she’d gained far outweighed the loss. She’d come away with the greatest prize of all.

She’d come away with John.