again, Base Camp to Team One. Do you read?'
Over the ridge to the east, Chief Zharan heard the call in his earpiece.
'Base Camp, this is Team One. Read you loud and clear. Go ahead.'
His man at the extraction point informed him of the arrival of Detective Eduardo Silva via a third helicopter. He had expected the call. His plan was coming together.
'Affirmative, Base Camp. Rally One is approved to land. Do you read?'
'Will comply, Team One.'
'Team One heading back to Base Camp.' Looking at his watch, Zharan gave his best estimate for their arrival, then signed off. 'Team One clear.'
Christian sensed a change in the man's demeanor. 'You have an uninvited guest at the clearing?'
'Not at all. Quite the contrary.' Chief Zharan grinned at Christian and Charboneau. 'A trusted ally and two very reluctant guests. You have not met my special ops man Eduardo Silva, but Bianca and Hector Salvador have. An unfortunate circumstance for them. And they have you to thank for that, Mr. Delacorte. The Macumba curse on your balcony was meant to point a finger at the native population, specifically Mario and his people. And it worked too. But you had to take it a step further. Involving a local Macumba vendor only meant another loose end for me. And today it will cost them dearly.'
Mario Araujo jerked his head toward Zharan with a scowl. Christian noticed the man's reaction to the news. The native man opened his mouth to speak for the first time since his so-called arrest.
'I know Bianca Salvador and her nephew. What are you planning to do with them?'
'I believe in equal opportunity. An idealist like you, Mario, should appreciate the concept. What will happen to them will also befall each of you. I wouldn't want them to feel left out, so Silva has brought them here.' The chief and Fuentes laughed, starting a chain reaction with the rest of the men.
Zharan walked in front of his prisoners, hands locked behind his back, glaring each one in the eye as he passed.
'Once we arrive at the extraction point, you will be forced to kneel before my men with your backs turned, hands bound behind you. No resistance. No escape. No hope left.'
Nicholas rolled his eyes and cocked his head, a look of boredom on his face. Christian had no idea what was going through his father's head except a heavy dose of insolence. If this were his father's day to die, Charboneau would do it his way.
The chief ignored the insult and continued. 'Two quick shots to the back of the head, execution style.' He walked slowly before each one. Cocking his hand like a gun, he imitated the action, as if they needed help to imagine it. 'My men will not sweat over digging a shallow mass grave in this heat. No one will discover your bodies out here. In days, exposed to the elements and the animals of the Amazon jungle, there will be nothing left to find.'
He stopped directly in front of Charboneau, grinning. His father glared back, losing none of his attitude, but that didn't stop Zharan.
'Shortly, you will mean nothing more than a full belly for some jaguar or puma after they rip the meat off your bones and devour your entrails, their muzzles red with your blood. Nothing will go to waste, I understand.'
Hands in front with wrists cuffed together, Christian stood next to Raven, his gut twisted with guilt. An overwhelming rush of powerlessness swept through him, compounding his agony. One of Fuentes's men had searched him and confiscated not only his Glock 19, but also his Marine Corps Ka-Bar knife and his backup gun, a .357 short-barreled revolver he had in an ankle holster strapped to his leg. The man also took away his international cell phone.
Bad enough to be stripped of his weapons, but now Raven would be searched and Fuentes took over, knowing what it would do to Christian. The bastard took his time. From the corner of his eye, Fuentes toyed with his reaction.
His father watched from a distance. In a subtle move, he shook his head to get him to cool down, but that only fanned the flames of Christian's anger. He wouldn't stand for this, not with Raven.
'Get your hands off her.'
'Christian, please. Don't.' Raven tried to intervene, more for his sake than her own. 'I can handle it.'
'Yes. Listen to your woman, Christian.' Fuentes grinned and flashed a wink at him. 'Besides, maybe she wants to handle what I've got. Or perhaps one man isn't enough for her.'
The men around Fuentes laughed, a low guttural sound that quickly died when their eyes trailed down her body like unwanted fingers. Hiding her terror, Raven glared at the detective, but defiance didn't stop him.
She gritted her teeth when the cop plunged a filthy hand down her shirt, manhandling her left breast. With his other hand, he squeezed her ass, letting his fingers probe deep between her legs. Raven held herself rigid, but there was nothing she could do. The rest of the men closed in, some licking their lips with eyes following every move Fuentes made. Any minute, Christian would lose it. Raven saw it in his eyes. And if he did, Fuentes would not hesitate to kill him here and now.
Fire raged in Christian's eyes. His fear for her had taken over. Christian knew everything could change in a heartbeat. One spark. One nod from Zharan and these men could pounce on Raven and take what they wanted. And he could do nothing to stop them. His heart pumped rapid fire in his chest. He gasped for air as if he was drowning.
When he took a step toward the bastard, Zharan's men grabbed his arms and held him in place. He jerked and tried to break free, but more men grappled him into submission. Finally, a beefy guy emerged from the rabble and punched him hard in the stomach. Once. Twice. Three times. It got his attention.
Fuentes smiled at Christian, doubled over in pain. Then the man looked down at Raven and rubbed her body harder, undeterred. She fought the degradation and the pain, trying not to show how much it hurt.
'I'm gonna bring you down, Fuentes.' The words were out of Christian's mouth before he realized he'd said them. The voice of the predator. 'Some way ... somehow. I'm gonna take you out.'
'You threatening me, Delacorte?'
The dirty cop laughed again, but didn't stop abusing Raven. He held her against his chest, an arm around her throat. In crude fashion, Fuentes ground his pelvis into her backside, giving Christian a tormenting preview of what would happen. Christian charged the bastard, nearly toppling the men holding him back.
'You talk big when you've got me handcuffed with men holding me down. Come over here and bring it, you coward.'
From across the clearing, Nicholas Charboneau had watched the whole exchange and finally had enough. When he burst out laughing, all heads turned.
'No, that's not a threat, you ignorant jerk.' Directing his comment at Fuentes, his father grinned and shook his head. 'I'd say that sounded like a promise worth keeping.' Then he shrugged and cocked his head. 'Ricardo? Who's in charge here? You're gonna kill us anyway. Do you have to subject us to this damned Brazilian soap opera? Really, man. I know it's hard, but show some class.'
Christian did a double take, unsure whose side his father was on. But when Zharan waved Fuentes off, Christian knew his father had done the right thing.
'Get off her, Arturo,' the chief ordered, waving a hand for another man to resume the search for weapons and identification. 'Be patient. If things go as planned, you and your men will get your chance with her. And you can make him watch.' Zharan pointed at Christian. 'In the meantime, follow orders and finish up. We pull out in five minutes.'
His father had only bought a cease-fire. Once they got back to the clearing, all bets would be off. If Christian orchestrated a plan, he'd have little time to do it. His mind raced with ideas until a strange sensation churned heat across his skin, a slow and steady buildup.
The talisman Bianca Salvador had made for him began to burn. And he felt the weight of the trinket against his chest. He'd forgotten it was there.
