him hadn't gotten the message.
The second man collapsed backward with shock forged in his eyes. The sound of bullets hitting his chest center mass echoed through the cave long after his heart stopped beating. Two meaty thuds. Once a man hears a sound like that, he never forgets it.
The pungent smell of gunpowder hung heavy in the air. It infused with the coppery sweetness of blood and the foul stench of human waste, the familiar melange of violent death.
'Hold it. Drop your weapon. State of Mato Grosso police.' A guy in fatigues materialized out of the dark like a ghost. He held his weapon on the tribal leader, his eyes hard-edged and unflinching.
The man with the painted face and ceremonial robes laid his gun down. His eyes were fixed on the dead men at his feet. His men. In shock, he didn't appear to care what happened next.
'What are you doing? You didn't have to shoot 'em.' Another voice came from the dark, but Nicholas couldn't see the man.
He barely heard the words of their exchange. His ears still rang. The sudden brutality left him stunned, yet Nicholas knew what it took to execute men this way.
'Don't worry. No one will hear the gun fire this deep in the cave, especially with the waterfall outside,' the guy with the gun and the upper hand insisted. A soul incapable of guilt.
'That's not the point,' the other man argued.
When he emerged from the shadows, the second man came into focus. Those eyes. That face. Like standing in front of a mirror that shed twenty years from his age.
It took Nicholas some time to recognize the face of the son he'd never met.
CHAPTER 22
Christian stared into the eyes of his father for the first time. Until now, he'd been preoccupied with the rescue and hadn't thought about how this would feel. The reality of the moment hit him hard. He stepped closer to the metal bars, unable to take his eyes off Nicholas Charboneau. He searched for the young man that had stolen his mother Fiona's heart all those many years ago. Most of all, he wanted to find his connection to the man. His father.
'You okay?'
With disheveled clothes and hair and a gaunt face, Charboneau looked like hell. And in the dim light, Christian thought he saw a glimmer of tears welling in the man's eyes. Or maybe it was only his imagination, stirred by his own feelings.
'I am now.' He nodded. 'How did you . . . ? Can't believe you came.'
'How could I not?' Christian smiled, but the quiet moment between them faded.
'My name is Detective Arturo Fuentes. I'm with the military police for the state of Mato Grosso. Can you walk, Mr. Charboneau?' Fuentes asked, still holding his gun on the native man.
'Yes. Please . . . get me out of here,' Nicholas answered, but hadn't taken his gaze off Christian. Those penetrating eyes took in every detail, as if he wanted to capture the moment. But then again, maybe he was reading into it.
'With all that face paint, I barely recognized you. You must be Mario Araujo,' the detective said with amusement in his voice. 'Keep your hands up and kick that gun to me. No fast moves.'
Araujo did as he was told. The gun skittered across stone to the feet of the detective, but he didn't pick it up. He stayed focused on the tribal leader.
'I know you have the keys. Open the cell.' When the man hesitated, Fuentes added, 'I can search your body for them. It makes no difference to me.'
Araujo slowly moved his hands toward his tunic.
'Be careful, old man,' Fuentes threatened, shifting his aim to the man's head. 'Real slow.'
The native man pulled out the key and opened the lock. Nicholas stepped through the cell door, but stopped in front of Araujo.
'I meant what I said about that clinic. And I don't know anything about people taken off the streets for experiments.'
The native man looked up in surprise with eyes narrowed, but didn't say anything.
'Mr. Delacorte. Please assist me by handcuffing this man.' The detective held out a set of cuffs, but kept his gun on Araujo. 'I will take care of the rest.'
After Christian secured the man's hands behind his back, Fuentes picked up the loose gun and searched his prisoner to make sure he didn't have any other surprises. When he found a cell phone, the detective pulled it out and looked at it with interest.
'Nice phone. Who would you need to call from out here?'
Araujo kept his face unreadable. 'I use it for emergencies only. For my people.'
Fuentes glared at him with skepticism. 'We'll see about that.'
Once he was satisfied with his search, the cop stuffed the cell phone in one of his vest pockets and tried his com set, but got no reception. The cave caused interference.
'I'll try again when we get out of here. If you would see to Mr. Charboneau, I will take care of Araujo.' Fuentes picked up a flashlight from the ground. He stepped over the dead man who had once held it, without giving him a second look. 'Grab the other light. You may not need it, but Mr. Charboneau might appreciate it.'
Fuentes smirked and holstered his weapon. He yanked Araujo by the arm and hauled him back the way they'd come, taking half the light with him. The cavern grew dark. Shadows stretched across stone. For the sake of his father, Christian reached down and picked up the other flashlight with reluctance. Flecks of blood and tissue covered the still burning light. He couldn't help but look into the accusing eyes of the second dead man. The smell of death hung heavy in the air. Fuentes could have avoided taking the shot. He didn't have to kill. The cop never even gave a warning.
'What did he mean by that? About not needing the light?' his father asked.
'Nothing. Let's get out of here.' Christian wiped his hands on his pants and walked beside Charboneau, careful to shine the light on the path in front of him.
'Please tell me something.' His father reached for his arm and pulled him to a stop, letting the detective and Araujo stretch their lead. 'If you're here, that must mean Jasmine told you what happened, right?'
'Jasmine did ask me to help, yes. And Fiona was willing to put up the ransom.'
'So Jasmine must be okay. He let me believe she'd been killed, but somehow I knew. Where is she? Why isn't she here?'
Christian saw the urgency in his eyes. He felt it in his grip. The man had more concern for Jasmine than for his own safety. And that told him a lot.
'I wish I knew.' Christian shook his head. 'We've got a lot to talk about.'
The downpour had come in waves, from a gentle patter to a gully washer. It kept the mosquitoes to a minimum, but had no other redeeming qualities as far as Raven was concerned. Now the rain came steady and unrelenting. She'd have mixed feelings about taking a hot shower when this day ended. The skin of her fingertips had begun to prune.
Drenched head to toe, she kept watch over the villagers with binoculars, yet Chief Zharan drew her attention whenever he moved or spoke into his com set. She hadn't known the man long, but felt his agitation even from a distance. Christian and Fuentes had been gone for what seemed like an eternity. Soon, the villagers would notice the missing men and might go looking for them. They were sitting on a time bomb of their own creation.
And Zharan knew it.
Forcing a confrontation with these people would be hard to explain if Zharan's intel wasn't complete
