Heart of Danger (Special Ops) Read online

  He had brought her straight to this room, keeping his men with guns trained on her right there to let her know who was in charge. He opened the doors to the lavish closet filled with an abundance of extravagant, and somewhat elegant, clothing. “Dinner,” he had told her, “will be served soon.” She didn’t like hearing those words. Maybe she could eat, maybe she was hungry, but dinner meant night would soon fall and when that happened she was sure he would want to fall between her legs with it.

  He had picked out a long, pale yellow formal gown. The beading was hand done; she could tell that just by looking at it. The dress was probably worth thousands and it was gorgeous. Under other circumstances she may have been able to enjoy the garment, but right now she couldn’t.

  “One in every size?” She really had to learn how to keep her mouth shut.

  He laughed. “I keep a wide range of sizes to fit the women I know I will like. You looked to be the size of a woman who would fit that dress. Although you are a little shorter. I shall have the tailor come to fix the clothes I want you to wear.”

  Great, so he was planning on keeping her around long enough to need a tailor…yeah, that was sarcasm in her heart and her mind. The dress was a little longer on her than it would have been on somebody a few inches taller, but it wasn’t so horrible that she would find it difficult to walk—why? Because he had given her a pair of five inch stiletto heels. She would gather he wanted to make sure she couldn’t run away. Run? She could barely walk in this things. Four inch was her maximum heel navigation capability and rarely did she buy the four inchers. Usually she went for the three inch because it was more comfortable and easier to navigate in.

  “You should have done something more with your hair.”

  “Why? It’s not like I want to be here.” If this were a date she wanted to be on then she would have taken the time to fix her hair up and put on a little makeup, but she didn’t want to be here, and she saw no need to placate the man on that level.

  “Because I say so,” he took hold of her arm and manhandled her over to the vanity. He pulled out a four inch bladed knife from behind his back and slid the cool steel down her arm. “I can cut you up slowly; make you suffer for days, or I can provide you some creature comforts. The choice is yours.”

  He waited for her to make a decision. She was torn because she didn’t want to die, and she definitely didn’t want to die painfully, but she didn’t want to help him have any sense of pleasure at her expense.

  She picked up the sterling silver decorative inlay brush and started to brush her hair into submission. The great thing about having thick hair was that she could manage it into a very fun, flirty or sexy up-do depending on her mood. She didn’t really want any of those looks tonight, but she had to do something with her hair.

  She brushed it up to the top of her head and then used the decorative bobby pins he had laying in the dresser drawer. Yes, he had done this before—a lot apparently. When she finished securing her hair she looked up at him.

  “Now the makeup,” he ordered. “Not too much of it. You have beautiful skin. Just use some of this eye stuff and the lips…paint the lips red.”

  She ran her fingers along the numerous color options sitting on the long end of the vanity. She had to get out of the chair to walk down toward the end of the table and find something that would look good with her skin. Clearly he liked darker women because everything really could work, but some would fit better than others. She picked a subtle shade called Soft Sable, but he wasn’t happy with that. He took it from her hand and picked up the Decadent Gold instead. “This,” he mumbled against her ear. His body pressed up against her back and she could feel his erection. Oh hell, she was in trouble now. She couldn’t remember much of what happened before goon number one knocked her out. She remembered kneeing Diego in the groin and trying to run, but the bodyguard got her. She kicked and tried to fight even with her hands tied behind her back. Then she remembered taking a fist in the face that had bruised her as well as knocked her out. She thought she heard somebody yell, “car,” but she couldn’t be sure. She had hoped, but now she wasn’t sure at all if she would be found, if she could be saved, or if she could save herself.

  “Tomorrow I will ravish you,” he slid his free hand to her breast and fondled her softly—a contradiction to the man who had been so rough with her already. She had expected he would be more animal than human in this regard. “You are too tired for what I plan to do to you and I will not be denied the privilege of hearing you scream with all the things I will do,” he licked her earlobe again. The man seemed to like licking ears.

  “Now finish. Dinner is waiting for us in what I am sure will be the most beautiful room you have ever eaten in.”

  She applied the hint of eye shadow. She didn’t need liner because her lashes were naturally thick and dark and they made her eyes appear as if they were lined even when she didn’t use liner. She painted her lips red like he wanted. It was hideous in her opinion. She hated red lipstick on her—especially the striking reds. She looked like a clown meets high class escort. Her lips were always better when bathed in a subtle shade of some variation of soft mauve-pink or a deep burgundy red. Flaming red was not her color, but he seemed to like it because he did nothing less than rave about his choice. He wanted her to like it too. When she didn’t say anything, or give any hint of agreement, he clasped hold of her arm and jerked her toward him.

  “I said it is beautiful, wouldn’t you agree;” he stated again.

  “I look better with softer shades.” He could stroke his own ego. She had a brain and she wasn’t going to let him turn her into some weak mouse that only formed the opinion he wanted her to.

  “We shall see. I will have Ramón go shopping for more lipsticks for you. And we need better underwear for you too. Your breasts are smaller than I usually play with,” he chuckled. “I like them. I think they will fit perfectly in my mouth.”

  She shivered just thinking about his words and how utterly repulsive they were. It wasn’t that she was a prude and didn’t like dirty talk. It was just that she would rather hear it come from the right man, not her captor. She would rather have Micah tell her how much he liked her breasts and all the things he could do with them. Thinking about Micah made her wish for home. If they had just left a few days later then even if she and Kelly had taken the adventure tour they wouldn’t have run across the drug smugglers. Kelly would still be alive and she would still be free. If maybe they hadn’t gone on the tour at all and had done something less adventurous instead, then none of this would have happened. She didn’t have the power to go back in time and change things. She knew she shouldn’t dwell on the “what if” of the situation. The “what if” thoughts could destroy a person’s soul if they dwelled on them, but right now there wasn’t much else she could dwell on. She thought about Kelly and it made her feel empty. She thought about Micah and Alex, Jet and Preston and it made her wish she were home. It made her wish that they would come reclaim the package—that they would search for her and rescue her like they had so many people before her. But now, in the wake of landing in Colombia and being here at Diego’s home, she wasn’t sure rescue would happen for her. She was a prisoner here, and she probably would be until the day she died. No one would come for her because nobody knew where she was. The reality of that sentiment had her heart breaking into tiny pieces. She was on her own, and unfortunately she didn’t have a clue as to how she would get out of here. That is she didn’t have a clue as to how she could get out without giving her body to Diego Valdez.

  Sure, she could play the captive with Stockholm syndrome route, but that would mean convincing the man that she was starting to enjoy him, his company, his touch, his kisses. She would have to pretend to want him so that he would relax his security on her and maybe take her into the city where maybe then she could escape. But that would take weeks, maybe even months and she didn’t want to go along with that idea. She wanted to keep her body safe. She didn’t want him anywhere ne
ar it, yet she knew, unless a miracle happened, tomorrow night he would take exactly what he wanted to have. He would take her.

  She sighed inwardly as he led her to the dining hall. He was so sure of himself; so confident in the perfection of his lavish home. Sadly, he had been right. It was the most beautiful dining area she had ever seen. The crystal chandelier above looked as if it belonged in an elaborate London opera house, and the formal dining table stretched the room. She would guess it could fit twenty, maybe thirty people. She guessed because she hadn’t bothered to count the number of dining chairs yet. Maybe she could do that during dinner in order to occupy her mind.

  He made sure he sat at the head of the table, all the way in the back of the room so that he was facing the door. He put her in the seat right at the end of the table on the side of him. “I hope you like lobster,” he tried to impress her with his elaborate home and his elaborate dinners.

  “I can’t eat seafood,” she told him. “I’m allergic.” And she was. The anger in his eyes told her he might try to force her to eat it. Well, then all her problems would be solved because she would be dead if she did. “I’ll just enjoy the salad.” She used the word “enjoy” trying to stave off whatever fit of anger he was nursing. It worked. He smiled at her and nodded affirmatively.

  “And the wine.”

  Oh good lord no; she couldn’t have the wine. If he knew what alcohol did to her he would have her conquered. He would know her weakness and he would use it against her. “No. I don’t drink. It’s not good for my stomach. May I just have some orange juice or something like that please?” Being nice might stave off his crazy for at least a little while.

  “Of course. I actually prefer a sober woman. That way, when I take you I will know you are not in a drug induced haze.”

  She held onto her reserve because she really wanted to tell him off good fashion, but now was not the time. Right now she just had to get through dinner and continue to try to come up with an escape route. There had to be something she could do to get away. God helps those who help themselves, she thought. Maybe she could think of something…maybe it just might work.

  “Will you at least allow me to see the rest of your home? Is there a garden or someplace where I can enjoy the sun on my face?” If she could get outside for a little while in the morning then she could assess the situation and see if there were any holes in his security big enough for her to slip through.

  “I knew you would warm to me,” he smiled. “Yes. I will show you my abode in the morning, but you will remain locked in your room tonight.”

  She nodded. She hadn’t expected anything differently. He wasn’t the kind of man to take a chance on leaving her door unlocked and letting her escape. Not that she would have an easy time getting out of the estate anyway. The guards were always around and one had been stationed outside her door. She noticed him when Diego walked her to the dining room. She wondered if he had been there the entire time, or maybe he had come with Diego, but then she realized that he wasn’t following them to the dining room so he must have been standing outside her door the entire time. What did they think she would do; pick the lock and sneak out? She doubted she could do that even if she wanted to because she didn’t know how to pick a lock. Although she had seen on television that credit cards made lock picking rather easy. She unfortunately didn’t have a credit card on her person. She didn’t have anything on her person because she lost her backpack when the first group of creeps killed the tour group.

  “Tell me about yourself.”

  “I don’t know what there is to tell.” She couldn’t sit here and make idle conversation with her captor. Was he crazy? Yes, he was crazy. She already knew that because he was evil and evil had to breed crazy.

  “What do you do…or shall I say what did you do?”

  She thought for a second. She wouldn’t tell him who she worked for; she would keep that a secret. “I’m a receptionist basically. I answer calls.” She did a lot more than that and her title was far from being a receptionist but giving him too much information would be a bad idea.

  “The people you work for, who are they?”

  “Oh it’s a small company,” it was small in size, but in reputation it wasn’t small at all. “It’s nothing anybody ever really hears about.”

  “I see,” he spread butter on his bread. “That would not be suitable for me. I am a king here,” he tooted his own horn. “I have so much money; more money than God.”

  She didn’t realize God was in need of currency. She kept that thought to herself.

  “This is the life,” he waved his hand as if encompassing the room and the fixtures in it. What else could she expect from a man with his morals? He murdered people without reservation. He was into drug trafficking. And he kidnapped women—and raped them too. No, she didn’t expect a man with a heart or compassion or enough sense to know that money doesn’t buy everything and that it’s not the most important thing in the world.

  She pushed her salad around on her plate, not really eating any of it. She had suddenly lost her appetite and she wanted to leave the white ivory table so desperately, but she forced herself to stay. No good would come from angering him tonight. She needed to get out of that room; to learn her surroundings, and to buy herself some time.

  Chapter Seven

  “She wouldn’t wear that,” Micah mumbled. He lay in his hidden position watching through his binoculars as Natalia walked around the estate with Diego Valdez. That slinky dress wasn’t something she would wear. It was cut too low and the hem line was higher up her thighs than she would have gone for which meant the man had picked that dress out for her. They were too late, and something in that thought made his anger rise.

  “What the hell is she doing? Stockholm already?” Alex watched through his own pair of binoculars.

  “No,” Micah kept his voice low. “She’s checking her surroundings. Look at her;” he noticed how she appeared to be taking casual glances around her, but he could see it in her eyes, she was studying, searching, trying to find a way out. She kept up her end of the conversation, but Diego seemed to be doing most of the talking.

  “Why? That place is locked up tighter than the U.S. Embassy in Afghanistan.”

  “She doesn’t know that yet. She wants out and she’s looking for ways to get it.”

  He saw one of Diego’s men come to retrieve him. There was an exchange between Natalia and Diego. He would guess Diego was getting ready to make her go inside, but she must have convinced him to let her stay out. He saw her wave her hand in the direction of one of the guards. She probably had told him she couldn’t go anywhere because of his men, and obviously he agreed because he let her stay outside, but he put one of his men on her six and she still didn’t have the space to execute any plan.

  “She’s trying to find an out,” he knew she was smart; he knew she wouldn’t give up. Unfortunately, her trying to get out just might get her killed. They had to get in and get out. From what Preston had spotted there was one room with bars on the window. They assumed that would be where Diego kept his female prisoners until he was ready to get rid of them, which meant that’s where Natalia was being kept. That room was in the rear of the house and the only way in they had found was around the side, near a patio area meant for entertaining a large number of guests. That was their only option and it wasn’t a good one. They would have to get over to the other end of the house around the rear to get to her room. Then they would have to have time to tackle those bars and get her out. There were at least two guards on foot patrol, from what he could tell, and they circled the house on a constant basis, meeting in the center of the estate in front and back each time. So far that’s what he had seen from the daytime hours, but nightfall might bring more men out to keep watch. He doubted Diego feared anybody gaining access to his fortress. Not even the local government had been able to shut him down. Micah figured that was probably because they hadn’t wanted to. The money they made, off the books, from this guy probably bou
ght him a lot of freedoms.

  Preston joined them. “The side entry is all we’ve got. Let’s get positioned.”

  “Yeah,” Micah mumbled. He didn’t want to move. He needed to see her, to ensure himself that she was indeed still alive and that they were going to get her out of there, but at the same time he couldn’t stay in his position forever. He needed to take up their attack position and be there when they were ready to go in. They had their weapons and other equipment. They were ready. Now all they needed was the cover of darkness to mask their attack.

  “She’s our only concern,” Preston said. “Everybody else is just collateral damage.”

  “You don’t have to tell me that twice,” Alex was ready to go in guns loaded and aimed to kill. The kid had a bit of a wild streak, impulsive at times, but he was good at what he did. He hadn’t spent six years in the Marines, training to be the best of the best for nothing. But sometimes they all had to remind him to take a step back. This time, it seemed Micah was too busy trying to remind himself to curtail his fury to worry about trying to keep the kid of the group settled.