Mercenary’s Promise Read online

  All appeared gaunt and frightened. As if they spent every minute of every day—awake and asleep—walking on metaphorical eggshells.

  But none of them were Samantha. She turned her focus to the huts. The stick sideing left gaps as wide as her hand, giving her a clear view of movement and shadow inside the huts, but she saw neither. The huts appeared empty. No doubt their occupants were toiling in the garden.

  She zeroed in on the area. Again, her sister was nowhere in sight. “Where is she?” she whispered.

  Xavier again shook his head.

  Bethany’s chest tightened, and she swallowed back the cry that tried to force its way from her throat. Samantha had to be here. Somewhere. She wasn’t wrong.

  But even as she tried to convince herself that she hadn’t failed Samantha, guilt crashed over Bethany.

  Time stopped as the world around her faded away. Her eyes squeezed tight and she fought to control her emotions. Instead, tears rolled down her cheeks as she gave in to doubt.

  How was she going to tell her mother that her youngest daughter wasn’t coming home? How was she going to look at herself in the mirror, knowing she was free while her sister walked the jungles of Colombia, treated worse than a dog?

  And Xavier? Saving her sister had made the deception tolerable. Made the fact that he was going to wish her dead something she could live with.

  Now, she didn’t even have that. It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t fair.

  Something jabbed her in the lower back, and she recognized it as the wrong end of a weapon. She couldn’t muster up the emotion to care. Not anymore.

  “Ese, what kept you?” A familiar voice asked.

  Sebastian. She smiled despite the tears. He was a goof, but he was good.

  “Long story,” Xavier said.

  Bethany looked over her shoulder. Their two teammates hunkered down at her and Xavier’s feet. “Hey, glad you could make it,” she greeted, trying to smile and yet sure it looked like anything but a smile.

  “Chica, what’s wrong?” Sebastian asked though he looked to Xavier for an answer.

  “We don’t see Samantha,” Xavier replied. She didn’t miss the disappointment reflected in his voice, and it hurt her heart.

  Tomas patted Bethany’s calf. “She is on the far side of that little hill. In the good hut. We were just there.”

  Bethany stared at the men, her thought process hiccupping as she tried to go from despair to success in less than a second. “Are you sure?” She wasn’t able to take another let down.

  “You showed us her picture,” Sebastian stressed, a hint of defensiveness in his tone.

  “It is her, Bethany,” Tomas replied, peeling her fingers from his arm. “We know our business.”

  “Show us,” Xavier ordered.

  “This way,” Tomas said. All four backed up until they were able to rise to a crouching position without disturbing too much foliage. Tomas motioned for them to follow.

  They made their way around the camp, taking care to avoid the occasional sentry and staying far enough in the foliage to remain unseen.

  Had Tomas and Sebastian really seen her sister? She didn’t want to hope and didn’t dare to believe. When she hadn’t seen Samantha, it had almost killed her to think she’d failed both her sister and mother. A second time might just do her in.

  They stopped at a large nut tree still in bloom, and Tomas motioned for them to move toward the camp. They worked their way in, stopping when they came to the edge of the clearing.

  Sebastian pointed to a hut fifty feet away. Constructed of planed boards instead of the sticks that made up the other structures, it sat away from the rest of the camp like a throne before the peasants.

  Come on. Bethany pulled out her binoculars. Come on. Show me Samantha.

  Below them, there was movement. A man emerged from one of the ratty structures carrying a video camera. He wore camouflage cargo pants and a green sleeveless shirt. His head was shaved clean.

  Her hands shook. Was it Cesar? If he was here, then Samantha was, as well. She zoomed in on his shoulder. A FARC tattoo stained the skin. Her hands shook harder.

  He turned, facing her direction.

  Cesar. The man from the videos.

  Once again, she found her hand on her weapon.

  Xavier put his hand on top of hers. “I know,” he whispered.

  She nodded, took a deep breath and relaxed. Later, she promised. She wanted Cesar dead, but first, she wanted him to suffer. She wanted him to lose what he valued most—money.

  For some, death was just too easy a punishment.

  A wicked smile curved her mouth upward. She was beginning to understand why Xavier saved hostages. It wasn’t just for the families. It was to stab FARC and hurt them where it hurt the most.

  In the wallet.

  She focused her attention on Cesar’s hut. “Come on, Samantha,” she whispered. “Show me you’re there.”

  “Quiet,” Xavier whispered.

  She realized they weren’t alone. A man walked the perimeter one solid foot in front of the other. Bethany stilled, praying that the foliage over them was enough to hide them. He stopped a few feet from the small group and lit a cigarette, not bothering to look down.

  Moron. She hoped all were as complacent. Though, even if they were, getting her sister out wasn’t going to be as easy as she had hoped. There were a lot of men and a lot of guns.

  Of course, she needed to see Samantha first, she reminded herself, reining in the rising hope. Confirm that the woman Sebastian and Tomas spotted was her sister.

  Shouting broke out in the camp.

  Xavier tapped her shoulder, gesturing for her to watch below. The sentry dropped his cigarette to the ground and without bothering to snuff it out, he sauntered down the hill.

  Bethany put the binoculars up to her eyes and watched as Cesar stalked back toward the hut, hands gesturing. Two men emerged from the hut with someone between them. They pushed the prisoner forward. It was a woman, her hair and skin turned a muddy brown by the sun, a thick chain link wrapped around her neck and clothes so worn that charity would burn them.

  Despite that, Bethany recognized the tilt of her chin. The green eyes that flashed anger.

  Samantha.

  The lenses blurred, but she didn’t pull them away. Two years. Two years in hell, and there she was—her baby sister.

  Bethany clenched her free hand into a tight fist, desperate to keep still and maintain position when every part of her wanted to run down the hill and throw her arms around Samantha. To pull her close and let her know she was safe now. That her big sister was here, and no one would ever hurt her again.

  Xavier put his hand over hers. Soon, he mouthed.

  Not soon enough, as far as Bethany was concerned. That would have been two years ago.

  The FARC soldiers hauled Samantha to her feet then led her toward the garden with Cesar in the lead.

  “She looks good,” Xavier whispered.

  “Good?”

  “She is alive. Her feet aren’t trashed. She can run. So yes, she looks good.”

  Bethany nodded. Perspective was everything. All she saw was her sister twenty or more pounds thinner with her hair chopped short.

  But her eyes were still bright. Somewhere beyond the pain and fear, her Samantha was still there. “Okay, she looks good, but she’s surrounded by a lot of bad men.”

  “Not too many and not too bad,” Xavier observed.

  “You have got to be kidding,” Bethany whispered. “We’re outnumbered and not just by one or two people. There are at least twenty FARC soldiers down there.”

  “You want to back out?” Xavier asked.

  He wished.

  This was it—Samantha’s rescue. Her sister’s salvation. And hers as well. Nothing was going to stop her now. “It could be the entire FARC militia down there and I’d still go.”

  “I am not comfortable with her going in,” Sebastian offered, keeping to Spanish in front of Bethany as he unloaded one of the
backpacks.

  “Me, neither. But she hasn’t made it easy to do otherwise,” Xavier informed. They’d hiked an hour away from the camp. There would be no fire tonight—just planning, prep work and then back to the camp to take position before they slept.

  Tomorrow was game time.

  “There is always rope,” Sebastian said, holding up a short length.

  Xavier chuckled. He’d thought the same thing himself more than once. “Too dangerous.”

  “Afraid we’ll get caught and she’ll be left helpless?” Tomas guessed, without humor.

  “No. Afraid we won’t, and we’ll have to bear her wrath,” Xavier replied with all sincerity.

  Sebastian chuckled, but Tomas nodded his head in understanding. Xavier smiled. His two teammates were night versus day in personality, but it was good to have both on the mission. They provided balance.

  “Are you three talking about me?” Bethany inquired. “I have already told you, I’m not dumb. I know when I’m the topic.”

  “Excuse us,” Sebastian apologized, switching back to the language they all understood. “It was not about you. We forget sometimes.”

  “Of course,” she quipped, one eyebrow up in suspicion. Instead of challenging them, she sat on a fallen branch, the contents of her pack in neat piles around her feet.

  Xavier feigned shock when she didn’t pursue the issue. Bethany wasn’t one to let anything go, but he was sure that thoughts of her sister made everything else seem less important.

  Not that he blamed her. Seeing Samantha with a chain around her neck and being treated like a slave must have shocked her.

  He prayed Eva received better treatment but knew that even prayer wouldn’t make that wish come true.

  How did the FARC soldiers sleep at night? he wondered for the millionth time. How did they take away another’s freedom and look in the mirror and see a good person?

  “So, what’s next?” Bethany asked.

  “Strategy,” Xavier declared, refocusing on the task at hand. “And a little education.”

  “Education?”

  “Tactical signals. Some lingo. The plan of attack. Who does what if we’re discovered.”

  She straightened. “Teach me.”

  Ten minutes later, she knew as much as his men when it came to using tactical hand signals. Most were basic and almost international. A hand shading the eyes for look or a flattened hand outstretched for stop.

  Some were not so common. A fist held up for freeze. An arm pump for hurry up. Circling the wrist with thumb and forefinger for enemy.

  But she was quick.

  She’d need that.

  “Next, we have gear,” Xavier continued, opening his pack.

  “She’ll be a pro by the time we are done,” Sebastian announced, clapping Bethany on the shoulder. “We’ll have to take her on more missions.”

  Xavier froze, his hand clutching one of the earpieces. The thought of Bethany going on more missions and putting herself in harm’s way made his blood run cold.

  He reminded himself that Sebastian was joking. Everyone dealt with stress in their own way, and his was by making light of the situation.

  He took out the earpiece and tossed it to Sebastian. “Make yourself useful and teach her how this works.”

  He watched while Sebastian fitted the device on Bethany, showing her what buttons to push. He prayed they weren’t doing the wrong thing by taking her.

  No, not them. Not Sebastian and Tomas.

  Him. He ran a hand through his hair. This was all about him and his family.

  It’s the right thing. It has to be.

  But was it? Or is that what he needed to believe so he could sleep with a clear conscience?

  “Xavier, she’s good to go,” Sebastian declared, tossing him an earpiece.

  Xavier caught it in midair.

  “How about the rest of the gear?” Bethany asked, leaning forward and pulling out a stick of dynamite. “Explosives? Flares? There’s a lot in there for a girl to learn, and why don’t I have any of that?”

  Xavier took the dynamite from her hands and put it back in the pack. He didn’t doubt Bethany’s capabilities. He’d seen her under stress, and she handled it well. But this wasn’t a panther encounter or crossing a gorge.

  This was battle. A war. Mano a mano, as it were. If FARC fired at them, all bets were off as to what Bethany’s reaction might be. Would she be able to handle explosives or would she be too scared to react?

  The most common reaction was to either freeze or run. Freezing would be a problem. Running was worse.

  He didn’t mind her sprinting out as long as it was to safety. But if she were in flight mode, then she’d be running like a frightened animal, and frightened animals ran into things.

  Like FARC troops.

  So, it was up to him to make sure that scenario never happened. That there would be no gunfire in Bethany’s direction and that she remained safe.

  He zipped the pack shut. “Let’s leave the high-powered stuff for people who have the experience.”

  “Xavier, I can do this.”

  He wasn’t going to argue. Not about this. Instead, he cleared a spot on the ground. Picking up a stick, Xavier drew a crude map of the camp.

  “This is Samantha.” He made an X on the hut. He drew four more Xs. Two above the camp. Two on the other side. Rectangles for the garden.

  He tapped the two Xs closest to the hut. “This is myself and Bethany.” The three leaned in, focused on the mission, and he sent a prayer skyward that it went as planned.

  Chapter 11

  Xavier shook Bethany’s shoulder, waking her, and she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Last night, they’d returned to the FARC encampment at dusk, or as Sebastian liked to call it, “feeding time.”

  Funny man.

  After helping her apply camouflage makeup and tucking her hair into a hat, Sebastian and Tomas had taken position on higher ground, ready to back them up and use cover fire if needed.

  She hoped to hell that didn’t happen.

  Then she and Xavier took the closer location per plan, watching as the hostages were fed a dinner of what looked like watery beans and hard bread.

  Bethany kept her attention on Samantha. Her sister didn’t frown or push the food away but ate with a ravenous devotion and then licked the bowl.

  Bethany promised herself that she’d buy Samantha whatever she wanted—pizza—once they were safe.

  As far as she could tell, not a single prisoner said a word during the entire meal. Afterward, they were taken to the stick huts—one to a hut.

  They’re trying to break them, Bethany had realized, as night descended and the bugs came out. FARC forced the hostages into utter solitude without even communication to give them hope.

  But that was eight hours ago. Now, night was changing to day and the jungle was coming to life around them. Monkeys screamed and chattered, and the cacophony of birds would mask some of the noise she and Xavier might make. The air was thick with the scent of decay mixed with the human scents of cooking from the camp below.

  It was time to get her sister out. No more crappy beans. No more silence. Xavier tapped her and pointed toward Samantha’s hut, his eyes questioning.

  She nodded agreement.

  “Blue team, what’s our status?” Xavier whispered into his earpiece.

  “Good to go. No players in sight. The lazy jerks,” Sebastian replied.

  That was what they’d been counting on—that the FARC soldiers would be either asleep or at the low point of their attention span.

  “Heading in now,” Xavier said.

  Keeping low, Xavier headed toward Samantha’s hut and motioned for Bethany to follow. Bethany took a deep breath and stepped out of the safety of the jungle. Below, there were two huts between themselves and the shack where Samantha was kept. One was the netted hut. The other held FARC.

  Xavier made a controlled roll down the hill and landed on his feet.

  Well, it was faster than walking
and speed was essential. Bethany followed suit, tumbling down the slope and wishing for the cushy detritus of the jungle floor before landing on her side.

  Before she could blink, Xavier grabbed her arm and she was on her feet, following him. They reached the far side of the net-covered hut and pressed themselves flat against the wall.

  “Still good to go,” Sebastian said.

  “Gracias,” Xavier whispered.

  “De nada.” They made it sound so casual. So easy. “Bethany, you’re quiet. For a change,” Sebastian teased.

  “Butterflies,” she muttered.

  “Cut the chatter,” Xavier said.

  “Right, boss,” Sebastian mocked. Bethany didn’t miss the chuckle in his voice. Xavier edged around the corner of the hut, one hand behind him, palm out in a gesture that most of the world recognized as “talk to the hand.” For her, it meant to stop and wait.

  She took a deep breath to calm her racing heart. She’d done some daring things as a guide and in life. Shot the rapids of a Class 5 river. Hiked canyons untouched by man. And the zip-line…she’d never forget that.

  But that was daring nature. People were different and even less predictable. Plus, they carried weapons. The more she thought about getting a bullet in the back, the more her hands shook.

  Instead, she focused on what would happen after they rescued Samantha. The homecoming. The smile on her mother’s face.

  The anticipation pushed back the fear and she was ready.

  Xavier lowered his hand then pumped it in the air, the signal for her to hurry up.

  There was no need to tell her twice.

  Xavier stepped out into the open and Bethany followed, keeping her eyes on the hut that held her sister.

  Twenty steps and they were at the corner of the FARC hut. It was constructed better than the stick huts that held the hostages so she and Xavier wouldn’t be seen, but any noise, any inkling that they were there, would get them killed or captured.

  Another twenty steps and they were past the soldiers and heading toward Samantha.