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Belinda’s head landed on Beast’s thighs as he knelt in the mud. With his hands secured behind him, he couldn’t even touch her. She was clearly burning up. Her face was flushed and her eyes had been glassy before she passed out. Her body was fighting a virulent infection and her injuries had weakened her. Each time she lost consciousness, John worried it would be the last and she wouldn’t wake up again. She needed medical help. And she needed it fast.
He glanced around the mine. They were in an older part, one that had obviously been exhausted of its resources. The only men in the area now were members of the Martinez cartel. In the distance, closer to the river, he saw the busyness of mineworkers, dredging the sandy banks in search of more gold. Beast knew they wouldn’t help them. They were captors, the same as him and Belinda, men at the mercy of the gangs.
He spat mud out of his mouth as he watched a small tractor drag something through the mine, something the Martinez brothers were salivating over. Behind Beast, the guard had lost interest in watching him, although he still kept his gun trained on Beast’s head. In his lap, Belinda stirred.
Beast look
ed down at her. She was beautiful to him, inside and out. He wished he could tell her how important she’d become to him during their intense trek through the jungle. He wished he could take back his reaction when she’d asked to spend time with him after this was over. He wished he could comfort her and let her know how much she comforted him. But he couldn’t. Not here. Not in this place.
She opened her eyes and stared up at him. “John,” she whispered.
Her blue eyes softened when she looked at him, and he knew it couldn’t be an act. They were past acting. The jungle had stripped them raw, and nothing was hidden any longer.
“You okay, baby?” It was a stupid question, but it was all he had.
“I want to go home.” Her eyes filled with tears, and John knew she didn’t hold out any hope of it happening.
“Put them against the hut and come help,” Diego shouted to the guard behind them, the one who was more interested in the tractor than in guarding them.
The man didn’t hesitate. He grabbed Belinda’s arm, pulled her to her feet and thrust her against the ragged little hut that sat a few feet behind them. She landed with a thump and a cry of pain. John clenched his teeth, flexed his bound fists and silently promised retribution to the grinning guard. The guard turned to grab John, but he was already on his feet. He strode to Belinda and sat at her side. The guard smirked before he called to a man near them, telling him to cover the captives, and then he went to help his bosses.
Belinda was crying as she curled into Beast’s side.
“I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.” He was sorry he hadn’t been able to protect her better. Sorry she’d been hurt. Sorry he couldn’t think of a way out of this mess.
“It’s okay,” she said.
And then she slumped against him again. Beast looked up into the laughing face of the guard who now held a gun on him.
“No stamina,” the man said. “White girls never have enough stamina.”
Beast wished he could wipe every single one of these men from the face of the earth. He scanned the area looking for some way out. Someone who could help. Anything to get them out of this mess alive.
And then he felt it.
He froze. Belinda’s fingers were working the knot on the rope that secured his hands behind his back.
He looked down at her. She seemed completely unconscious, exactly as she had been earlier. She lay against him, her head hanging, her limbs limp. All except for the hand behind his back. The one picking at the ropes.
Chapter 30
“We’ve got four hostiles standing watch at the treeline,” Lake said over the comm system Ryan had in his ear.
Ryan had fought to take part in the mission this time around. His arm was still in a sling, but he couldn’t stay at the hotel while everything was going down in the jungle. In the end, Lake had agreed to let him man the second boat, to free up someone else for the on-the-ground search party.
He’d been sitting in that boat, idling on the river around the bend from the gold mine, for hours. After the team had regrouped and refuelled, they’d split into teams and Callum and Ryan had dropped them off on the riverbank, as close to the mine as they could get without tipping off the Martinez crew. The teams had then made their way on foot, through the jungle, to the mine.
It was late in the morning now. The teams had been on the ground for hours. They had to be exhausted. Yet they carried on, fuelled by adrenalin and determination. Ryan felt the tension build with each update he received. One way or another, things were coming to a climax soon.
“Six on the south side,” Dimitri reported.
“Eyes on target?” Callum said from his spot on the opposite side of the horseshoe where he manned the other boat.
“Nothing yet,” Dimitri said.
“Nothing,” Lake said.
“No,” Grunt said.
