CHAPTER SEVEN

After breakfast, the three women were moved back to their bedrooms.  Apparently the plan was to keep them isolated.  Stephanie paced the length of the room, searching for anything she might use as a weapon.  Taking self-defense classes helped to instill self-confidence, but with the sheer number of guerillas, she discarded any thought of trying to take them on in some great show of skill and prowess. 

Escaping, though, that was a whole different thing.  Too bad her room was three stories up from the ground.  Since the villa provided a housekeeper, they didn’t keep extra linens in the individual rooms.  Which meant no knotting a bunch of sheets together to climb down, like she’d seen in the movies and on TV.  Of course, first she’d have to figure out how to climb a rope.  Biting her lip, she barely kept from chuckling.  Yep, she’d failed that part of physical education class in school—spectacularly. 

The rainforest just beyond the perimeter of the garden beckoned to her.  It enticed and whispered, urging her to try running.  It promised shelter and relief from the bad guys.  But, it harbored untold dangers.  Wild and wicked terrain would be just the first of her problems.  Native animals abounded, including the Fer-de-Lance, Costa Rica’s most deadly venomous snake.  Its venom was strong enough to kill over thirty men, instantly. 

Strike that idea.  She didn’t like snakes on her best days—and this definitely didn’t qualify as one.  Still, she held onto the knowledge help was coming.  She wasn’t foolish enough to think troops were going to storm the villa, taking out the bad guys in a hail of bullets. 

No, Carpenter trained his men to know everything about a situation, and not rush in haphazardly.  Etienne made her a promise, and he’d be prepared.  Rescue glimmered like a mirage on the horizon, if she just bided her time. 

She sprinted to the balcony at the sound of a car engine drawing closer, and she watched the black Hummer pull onto the circular drive and park beside the decades-old jeeps, dwarfing them with its sheer size and opulence.  It looked out of place amidst the older military vehicles. 

Her stomach clenched at the thought that this was the man the guerillas waited for.  The boss.  The one who called all the shots. 

Etienne, please, you’ve got to hurry.

The driver sprinted around the vehicle, standing at attention while he opened the passenger door.  Because of the overhanging awning of the front entrance, she couldn’t see much of anything about the man who alighted from the car—except his shoes.  Like that was going to help.  Black and shiny, totally inappropriate for a Costa Rican rainforest, but the whole setup smelled of money and power—lots of it. 

A flash of something at the edge of the greenery caught her attention, there and gone so fast she wondered if it was her imagination working overtime.  Yet she couldn’t help the uneasy feeling that crept over her.  Something really bad was coming, and she had the strangest feeling she was going to be right in the center of the storm. 

She wasn’t surprised when the door to her bedroom was flung open, two guards brandishing automatic weapons stalking inside, their faces unreadable. 

“Come.”  The one heavily accented word was accompanied by a gesture with the barrel of the gun.  Without a word she stepped toward the door, though her feet felt like leaden weights, each step heavier than the previous. 

Somehow she both dreaded and anticipated the meeting with whoever was in charge.  Maybe she’d finally figure out what they wanted, and end things peacefully and with no bloodshed.  That was the best case scenario.  Worst case?  Didn’t bear thinking about. 

“Don’t push me,” she heard from down the hallway.  Tabby wrenched her arm free from one of the soldier’s grip.  Her eyes widened when she spotted Stephanie.  “Do you know what’s happening?” 

Looking past Tabby, she could see Marie only a few steps behind her.  Looked like the gang was all here. 

“I saw a Hummer pull into the drive.  I think the boss is here.” 

“Good.  Hopefully he can deal with Daddy, and this can be over.  I want to go home.” 

“We all want to go home, Tabby.  Let’s go down and find out who’s behind this and what they want.” 

With determined strides, Stephanie marched down the staircase, stopping when she reached the foyer.  It was eerily empty, for the first time since the guerillas or mercenaries or whatever they were had overrun the place. 

“I don’t like this,” she whispered softly, mostly to herself.  “Where is everybody?” 

The guard who’d seemed to be the one in charge, or at least she’d considered him to be, since he was the only one who spoke English, strode across the marble floor with a determined gait, a huge smile on his face.

“Good, you’re all here.”  He looked at Stephanie, like she was the leader of the three women. “Follow me.”

When all three started forward, he raised a hand.  “No, no.  Only you.”  He pointed to Stephanie.  “The others will wait here.”

“What?  No, we stay together,” Tabby protested, and Steph could hear an edge of fear lacing her words.  Marie stood mute, her eyes staring at the shiny marble floor.  Stephanie had to wonder if the woman had any backbone at all, because she’d been silent throughout most of their ordeal.  Maybe it was too much for her.  Some people didn’t handle stressful situations well. 

“Tabby, it’s okay.  Let me find out what’s going on, and what we need to do to get things resolved.  Think about going home.  We’ll be out of here soon and back in the States before you know it.” 

Why did she feel like she’d just lied to the other woman?  Maybe because she’d become cynical after working for C.S.S. for the past few years, had seen too many times when things didn’t get wrapped up with a nice pretty box and everybody lived happily ever after. 

Her sneakers made small squeaking sounds as she walked across the foyer, toward the den, where two guards stood in silent vigil, guarding the closed doorway. 

Every muscle in her body froze as she stared at the closed double doors.  Ornate, beautiful, and handcrafted to fit into the style of the villa, there was an aura of evil she couldn’t explain, and it resided on the other side. 

The English-speaking guard stepped forward and pushed down the gilded handles, sweeping the doors inward, in a grand fashion.  So much elegance and polish, hidden away in the middle of the jungle. 

Stephanie had been in the room once or twice since they’d arrived, once on the grand tour of the estate, and once to make a call to Andrea Kirkland, Samuel Carpenter’s fiancée.  Andrea was covering the administrative duties while she was away. 

It was a gorgeous room, with floor to ceiling bookcases along one wall, and a bank of windows along the other, letting amazing amounts of natural light flood the study.  A massive desk, made from the same ornate hardwood as the doors, occupied the back of the space, angled to make the most of the spectacular views. 

Right now, though, she didn’t care about the views or the opulent elegance of wealth and privilege.  She was more concerned with the person standing beside the wall of windows, looking out.

He hadn’t turned when she’d entered the room, hadn’t acknowledged her entrance in any way.  The guard pulled the doors closed when he left, leaving her standing in silence. 

Even without seeing his face, he looked oddly familiar, and her brain struggled to come up with a name to match the person still facing away from her. 

Then it hit her.

Chill bumps spread across her skin, and she wrapped her arms across her chest.  Nausea roiled in her stomach, and she fought hard to keep from throwing up.

Because she knew him.

Hated him. 

Had run long and hard, hiding from him for the last five years. 

Changed her name.  Changed her appearance.  Left behind everything and everybody she loved, because of him. 

“Hello, sweetheart.” 

At the sound of his voice her knees trembled, threatening to buckle.  Tiny dark spots flashed before her eyes, and she fought back the darkness, refusing to give in to blessed oblivion.  Refused to give the monster that much control over her. 

Never again. 

She was in a waking nightmare, without escape.  Somehow, against all odds, he’d found her.  Despite everything she’d done, safeguards Samuel Carpenter had put in place, her past had slammed straight into her present. 

She’d damned them all.