Chapter Two
Reese didn’t have much of an opportunity to escape. Their captors had seen fit to leave one of their members in the tent with her and Klein. Not only that, but they’d tied her hands behind her back and bound her ankles. They’d done the same to Ferrence. When he’d surfaced from unconsciousness, he’d been angry and scared. The captors only had to threaten pain and torture to get Ferrence to beg on video for the ransom money they wanted. One of the men had recorded his plea on a cell phone and left to take the video somewhere he could get cell tower reception.
They claimed to be Congolese rebels fighting for the freedom of their country to decide how to be governed, but Reese doubted they were fighting for anyone but themselves. Their leader was a big, bulky black man with a scar on the side of his face. He wore bandoliers filled with bullets, crisscrossing his chest like armor, and carried a submachine gun, waving it at anyone who angered him. His men had called him something that sounded like Bosco Mutombo.
Once their captors had their video of Ferrence’s plea, he and Reese had been left confined to the tent, allowed to go out only to relieve themselves under the watchful eyes of armed men.
Reese had been sized up and threatened with sexual abuse, but left alone when she said they would more likely get their money if both she and Ferrence were not harmed. Otherwise, they’d send in the US Army, Navy, Air Force and Marines to blow them off the face of the earth.
One man translated for the others, and they all laughed, though the laughter had a certain nervous edge to it.
Reese didn’t care, as long as they didn’t touch her.
A moan sounded from her client’s direction.
Inching her way across the bare ground, Reese moved toward Ferrence, careful not to draw the attention of the guard sitting with his back to her. He glanced toward her every two or three minutes, but otherwise, didn’t seem concerned that she might find a way to escape. He had an old video gaming device in his hand and seemed more interested in his game score than his captives.
The guard’s head came up, and he glanced toward her.
Reese closed her eyes and let her head slump forward like she’d just nodded off.
Through her lashes, she could see the man’s eyes narrow. He looked back at his video game. The light blinked out on it, and he shook it, muttering beneath his breath.
Reese almost laughed. She suspected the battery had died. Since she hadn’t heard a generator, and there weren’t any other lights on in the camp that she could see through the canvas of the tent, the guard wouldn’t be playing his game for the rest of his time there with no way to recharge the battery.
The man stood, ducked his head and stepped out of the tent.
Finally alone in the tent, Reese scooted on her butt toward Ferrence and whispered into his ear. “Wake up.”
He moaned, rolled onto his back and frowned when he couldn’t move his hands. For a moment, he lay still. Then he asked, “Any news?”
She shook her head, and then realized he wouldn’t see the movement in the dark. “None. We can’t wait to be rescued. We need to get ourselves out of this mess.”
“And hide in a jungle full of snakes, gorillas and who the hell knows what else?” He shook his head. “No way. I’ll wait for my father to pay the ransom and be escorted out of here in one of his helicopters.”
She snorted. “Wake up and smell the coffee, Ferrence.” As soon as she mentioned coffee, her belly rumbled. The only thing they’d been given to eat were a couple of bananas and unbaked sweet potatoes. Fortunately, they’d been supplied bottled water to drink, thus saving their stomachs from parasites. But the last bottle of water had been on the second morning. “It’s been three days. If they don’t get their ransom money soon, they might decide to kill us and hide the bodies.”
“We’re still equipped with the GPS tracking devices,” Ferrence argued. “They’re probably on their way as we speak.”
“Are you willing to risk it? Do you really think these men will wait much longer? Just today, they were fighting among themselves. At least sit up and let me see if I can untie the ropes on your wrists.”
He did as she asked, scooting around to put his back to hers.
Reese had already tried to untie her bonds or to rub the rope against something coarse, but she was confined to the tent, and nothing inside the tent presented itself as a coarse surface.
She fumbled with the ropes on Ferrence’s wrists, finally finding the end and working it back through one of the knots.
She’d broken out in a sweat by the time she’d freed Ferrence’s hands. “Now me. Untie my hands.”
“When I get my feet done.” He leaned away from her and grunted.
Reese grit her teeth. “Think about it, Ferrence. If you untie my wrists first, we can both untie our feet at the same time.”
“I’ve got it,” he said, triumphantly, and then turned to work at the knots on her wrists. “Yours are tighter.” He blew out a frustrated breath. “I don’t think I can get it.”
“Try harder,” she urged.
Finally, she felt the ropes give, and she shook her hands free. She immediately bent to the task of untying her legs. “If the guard comes back, pretend your wrists and ankles are still tied.”
“Like hell. I’m getting out of here.”
“Wait until I’m free,” she said. “We need to stick together.”
“You’re fast. You can catch up.” He lifted the back of the tent, stared out at the night and whispered, “I don’t see anyone out there. I think we can make a run for it.”
“Wait—” Her hands still fumbling with the knots around her ankles, Reese couldn’t lunge after Ferrence. He was out the back of the tent and gone.
“Son of a b—” The end slipped through the knot and the ropes fell away from her ankles. A grunt sounded outside the front of the tent, and something fell, landing hard against the ground.
Not willing to stick around to find out what it was, Reese ducked beneath the bottom of the tent, rolled out and sprang to her feet. She ran for the nearest trees and bushes.
A shout rang out to her right, and then all hell broke loose.
Shots were fired, men yelled and chaos reigned. Reese didn’t slow down, didn’t stop, just kept running until she hit a wall. She hit the obstacle so hard, she bounced off and landed on her butt. Refusing to be captured again, she shot to her feet and dodged to the left.
A hand snaked out and grabbed her arm.
She rolled beneath the arm, sank her elbow into what she hoped was the man’s belly and hit what felt like solid steel. Pain shot through her arm. She’d likely chipped her elbow.
Whoever had hold of her was wearing an armored plate. Having been caught and tortured before, she refused to be a victim again. She kicked her foot hard, connecting with the man’s shin.
He yelled and almost lost his grip on her arm.
Reese took advantage of the loosened hold and yanked herself free.
Before she could run two steps, arms wrapped around her waist from behind, and she was lifted off the ground. She struggled, kicked and wiggled, but nothing she could do would free her of the man holding her.
“Damn it, hold still,” a man’s voice whispered against her ear, his breath warm and surprisingly minty.
Reese recognized the American accent immediately. “Who are you? Why are you holding me captive?” She fought again. Many Americans hired out as mercenaries. This could be one of them.
“I’m not here to hurt you.” He grunted when her heel made contact with his thigh. “Damn it, I’m here to rescue you.” He dropped her to the ground so fast, she lost her footing and crumpled into a heap at his feet.
More gunfire sounded behind her. Where the hell was Ferrence? Had the rebels shot him for trying to escape?
This time, when she tried to get up, the man in the armored vest laid a hand on her shoulder and dropped low beside her. “Stay down. You don’t know the direction they’re shooting.” He stayed close to her, and then he said. “Get him out of here.”
“What?” she asked.
“We’re getting Klein out of here.”
“Not without me,” she said. “He’s my client.” Reese started to get up, but that hand on her shoulder kept her down. “Who are you?”
“My team was sent to get you two out of here.”
“Your team?” She glanced around. “Are you Spec Ops?”
“Shh,” he said. “Someone’s coming.”
In the limited light making its way through the canopy of foliage, Reese could make out the silhouette of a man carrying a weapon. She lay low against the ground. The man beside her flattened himself, as well.
Neither moved a muscle as the man carrying what appeared to be an AK-47 passed inches away from where they lay.
More shouts rose up from the rebels in the camp. A motor sounded close by, and flashlights lit up the area.
The man with the AK-47 turned and almost walked over them on his way back to camp. Thankfully, he must have been too blinded by the lights to see what was right next to him.
Once the rebel fighter was out of hearing range, the man beside Reese spoke softly. “Looks like they’re getting into their boat.”
Reese peered through the darkness. All she could see were flashlights heading away from her and the occasional man caught in the beam. The camp was emptying out, heading for the river.
“They’re heading south,” the man said softly. “Your direction. Don’t wait on me. Get Klein out of here, now. I have Brantley. We’ll find our own way back. I’ll contact you when we’re out of danger. Don’t argue. Just go.”
Reese was only half-listening to her rescuer’s side of a conversation. Some of the men appeared to be climbing aboard a boat. The others turned around, shining lights toward the jungle. She tugged on the sleeve of the man beside her. “We’ve got a problem.” She rose onto her haunches. “Some of them are coming this way with flashlights.”
* * *
BRANTLEY WAS RIGHT. Diesel glanced around. The men were coming toward them and spreading out, heading south along the river. A shout went up when they found their sentry.
“Follow me. And for the love of God, stay low,” he commanded. He led the way deeper into the jungle and turned north, praying he didn’t get them lost. He figured, as long as he had a GPS device on his wrist, he’d be all right. If they had to, they’d travel all the way to Kinshasa, the capital of the Democratic Republic of the Congo, and show up on the doorstep of the US Embassy, claiming some lame excuse of being tourists who’d fallen off a riverboat cruise.
In the meantime, they had to get away from the gun-toting rebels who’d just as soon shoot first and ask questions of a corpse later. Especially since they’d found one of their own dead.
A shout sounded behind him. He glanced back at Brantley. Lights flashed toward them. “Run,” he urged.
They gave up all attempt at quiet and charged through the jungle. The head start they had on the rebels would help, but they couldn’t keep running forever. They needed to find a place to hide.
His lungs already burning, the heat dragging him down, Diesel could imagine the woman behind him had to be dying by now. He reached back, captured Brantley’s hand and pulled her along with him. When they arrived at a stand of huge trees with low-hanging limbs, Diesel aimed for them, slowing as he neared.
“Why are we slowing down? They’ll catch up to us,” Brantley said between ragged breaths.
Diesel cupped his hands. “Climb.”
“No. Wait.” The woman ripped her shirt and ran away from him.
“Where the hell are you going?” he called out to her in a whisper he hoped couldn’t be heard by their pursuers.
In the pale glow from what little starlight penetrated the canopy, Brantley raced to the far edge of the clearing that surrounded the base of the tree and hung the piece of fabric on a bush. As quickly as she’d left, she returned to where Diesel again bent and held out his cupped hands. If they didn’t hurry, that little bit of fabric hanging on a bush wouldn’t make a difference.
“Go!” he urged.
Still, she hesitated. “I don’t know.”
“Don’t think. Just climb.”
Shouts in the jungle behind them had her stepping into the palms of his hands. He boosted her up to the first limb. When she had her balance, he handed her his rifle, and then pulled himself up beside her.
Without waiting for him to instruct her, Brantley climbed from limb to limb, rising high up the trunk to the vegetation that would provide sufficient concealment from the men wielding flashlights and weapons below.
As the men neared the tree, Brantley came to a stop. Diesel followed suit. For the next fifteen minutes, they sat silent in the tree.
Diesel breathed, held his breath and listened.
The sound of footsteps below indicated the men had reached the base of the tree. A light shined up into the branches.
Diesel glanced up.
Brantley hugged the trunk, pressing her body against the hard wood, making herself appear to be as much a part of the tree as its bark.
Diesel had laid his rifle along a thick horizontal branch, and then he laid himself across the branch, as well, bringing his feet up behind him to keep them from dangling over the sides. If he slipped an inch to the left or the right, he might fall off the branch and all the way to the ground. He didn’t think about falling. Instead, he focused on his balance and maintaining his silence.
A man below yelled. The flashlights were turned away from the branches of the tree and shined toward the far side of the clearing. Footsteps pounded through the brush, toward the jungle and way from the two people up in the tree.
Soon, the sound of humans faded away, and the creatures of the night sent up their own song.
“They’re gone,” Reese said. “Should we get down?”
Diesel sat up, his legs straddling the big branch. When he scooted back into the trunk, he found that there was enough room for two people to sit comfortably without falling out of the tree. “We’re staying the night here.”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” she said.
“I’m not sure which direction the rebels went. If we get down and follow them, they might decide to turn around and head back to camp. If we turn back the way we came, we might run into whoever they left behind.”
“Yeah, yeah. I get it. If we go deeper into the jungle, we might be lost for good, and the river is full of its own dangers.” She sighed. “I guess being up a tree for the night beats getting shot at or eaten by crocodiles...” Her words trailed off.
Diesel chuckled. “You don’t sound very enthusiastic.”
“I might be if I wasn’t just a little petrified of heights.” Her voice shook, and her teeth chattered.
“You’re kidding, right?” Diesel shined his flashlight with the red filtered lens up at her.
She remained glued to the tree above him, even though the enemy threat had moved on. As the light touched her face, she opened her eyes and looked down. “Oh, hell.” She squeezed them shut. “Shouldn’t have done that. No, no, no. Shouldn’t have done that.”
“What? Shined the light up at you?”
“No,” she said, her teeth clattering together so hard that Diesel was afraid she’d chip one.
“No. I shouldn’t have looked down.” Brantley’s arms tightened around the tree. “Now that I’m up here, I might as well stay awhile. I certainly won’t be getting down anytime soon.”
Good grief, the woman was beyond terrified. “Don’t move,” Diesel said. “I’m coming up.”
“Don’t move, he says.” Brantley laughed, the sound without amusement. “Trust me when I say, I couldn’t let go if I wanted to. So much for all the MMA training. It doesn’t help you conquer all of your fears. No, you have to climb up to the top of a giant tree to test the theory. You couldn’t just stand on the edge of a cliff. Noooo. You had to climb up a really tall tree in the dark, in a jungle, with an absolute stranger who could be just as much the enemy as the people who kidnapped you.”
A smile twitched at the corners of Diesel’s mouth at Brantley’s long monologue. He knew she was talking to keep from freaking out, but it was funny and kind of cute. She’d kept up with him in their mad dash to evade her captors. And she was a bodyguard and appeared to be capable of protecting herself. To Diesel, that spelled one tough chick.
Until she’d climbed a tree and looked down toward the ground.
Diesel pulled himself up to the next branch and the next, until he finally slung his leg over the limb Brantley was straddling, hugging the trunk with all of her might.
Diesel scooted closer.
Brantley glanced over her shoulder, nervously. “Don’t knock me off.”
“Wasn’t going to.” He inched toward her. “You know, there’s enough room for two to sit here all night.”
“So you say.” She didn’t let go of the tree trunk.
In the dark, Diesel couldn’t see her fingertips, but could imagine them curled into the bark.
When he was close enough to touch her back, she flinched.
“I’m not going to knock you off. I was hoping to reassure you that this limb is big enough for the two of us.” He wrapped his body around hers. “You’re as tense as a tightly wound rattlesnake with a brand new button on his tail.”
Brantley snorted. “Did you just fall off a horse in Texas?”
Diesel chuckled. “How did you know I was from Texas?”
“Lucky guess.” She inhaled, her back rubbing against Diesel’s chest. Letting the breath out in a long stream, she laughed. “I don’t suppose you know of anyone who’d hire a bodyguard who couldn’t keep her client safe?”
“Not off the top of my head. But then the odds were stacked against you on this assignment, from what I know.”
“Damned guide was in on the kidnapping,” she stated. “I should have seen it. Hell, I should have shot him when I realized he was taking us the wrong way.” She shook her head. “But I didn’t.”
“You might have had an international incident on your hands had you killed him.”
“Yeah, and he was driving when I considered it, at a breakneck speed, with Klein out front on the hood.”
“On the hood?”
“You know, in some kind of seat they rig up for the hunter. He was going after a leopard.”
“I thought they were protected.”
“Ferrence paid a hefty price for a real safari hunt. I think the guide assured him he could shoot just about anything.” The disgust in her voice was evident.
“You don’t much care for Mr. Klein?”
“Not really, but that doesn’t mean I wish ill on him.”
“Then why work for him?”
“I’m not. I work—worked—for his father, Matthew Klein. He hired me to protect his son. And a lot of good that did. I wouldn’t be surprised if he demands a refund.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
“Why not? I didn’t do my job.” She snorted. “I can’t even get down out of this tree.”
“We’ll worry about that in the morning, when we can see what we’re doing.”
“Hell, I’m putting my trust in a stranger. I don’t even know you.”
“We can fix that. Hi. I’m Dalton Samuel Landon, but my friends call me Diesel.” He reached around her, peeled her hand off the tree and gave it an awkward shake. “And you are?” As soon as she let go, her hand found its way back to the tree.
“You must already know who I am since you were sent to rescue us.”
“Reese Brantley,” he supplied. “How did a girl like you end up as a bodyguard to Ferrence Klein?”
She stiffened. “What do you mean a girl like you?”
He chuckled. “Sorry. I meant how did you get stuck as a bodyguard to the Klein legacy?”
Her body remained rigid for a few seconds longer, and then she relaxed. “His father didn’t want him to know he’d hired a bodyguard. He told Ferrence I would be his assistant while he was in Africa. Had he hired a male, Ferrence would have guessed.”
Diesel nodded. “And Ferrence didn’t want daddy’s protection?”
“No. Not when he’d made plans to hunt endangered species.” Again, Reese’s body tensed. “Had I known he’d come to hunt anything but some plentiful deer, I’d have told his father where his son could go.”
“I take it he was more interested in a trophy than food?”
“He was hunting a leopard when the driver veered off course.” She half-turned toward him. “By the way, where are we? I have a feeling we aren’t in Zambia anymore.”
Diesel’s arms tightened around her. “We’re not. We’re in the Democratic Republic of the Congo.”
The woman sat stiff. “Okay. Well. We’ll just have to get the hell out of here. I don’t suppose your team is coming back anytime soon?”
“They will.” He couldn’t say when. Since they had Klein to get out, the powers that pulled the strings might not want to redeploy the team to extract one SEAL and one civilian. Not in a hostile country. And not when they weren’t supposed to be there to begin with. With current tensions between the new presidential administration and international trade relations, Diesel wasn’t sure they’d risk a second insertion into the DRC.
“In the meantime,” Reese said, “we’ll have to get out of this area, or risk being caught.”
A sound alerted Diesel. He touched Reese’s arm. “Shh,” he said softly. “I hear someone coming.”