Page 32 of Wired Courage

“What did Hamilton tell you?” He couldn’t keep his voice casual.If Connor gave up Sophie’s location. . . But he wouldn’t. The guy loved Sophie too. Jake bit back another curse, remembering the betrayal afresh.

“Connor has said nothing. He is being treated well.” Purple Eyes really had a magnificent voice; it reminded Jake of a cello, melodic and many-toned. “But soon he will tell me everything I want to know. Rest. You have nothing to fear.” The man got up and left, closing the door and taking the light with him.

The kind-faced healer knocked, then entered with an herb-smelling bowl of water and a cloth. He laid a cool palm on Jake’s brow. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I died, and there was no heaven,” Jake said, and shut his eyes.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Day Twenty-Six

Sophie climbed down off the back of the full truck bed loaded with vegetables and crowded with loud, protesting goats corralled into a crude wooden enclosure. She was tired and sore, and smelled overwhelmingly of goat, but at last she was in Bangkok and within ten miles of her goal.

Sophie walked around to the front of the small Mitsubishi truck and handed the farmer a wad of bright Thaibaht. “Kóóp khùn káà.Thank you. I will go find my family home now.” Staying with a variation of the truth was always easiest; she’d claimed to be a lost tourist looking for her aunt’s house.

Sophie hefted her backpack. She still had miles to go to find the family compound at the edge of the city, and dark was fast approaching. She needed to find a hotel to clean up and change in; somewhere with Wi-Fi so she could reconnect with the outside world.

Scooters and pedestrians swirled around Sophie as she navigated across an unpaved road, weaving in and out of the chaotic traffic. Sounds assaulted her: the wail of a child, the barking of dogs, the squealing of pigs being herded to market, and the ever-present honking of traffic with few rules to regulate it.

And the odors!Sophie wished she could pinch her nose against the reek of sewage, rotting fruit, and diesel fumes that colored the air.

She passed a tea stand and spent somebahton a spicy chai beverage. Sipping the tea, she pressed on down the busy thoroughfare, headed for the Western Thai Vacationer Hotel, an inn she’d researched ahead of time.

The area’s buildings seemed to lean inward, pulled toward each other by thick powerline spiderwebs. Shops lined the street, and vendors called out and showed off their wares as she passed. Sophie avoided eye contact to try to keep them from approaching her, but her American clothes made her an easy target for sales pitches. Once inside the hotel’s quaint but elegant space, Sophie breathed a sigh of relief.

She had forgotten that the country of her youth was so loud, intense, and colorfully beautiful.

She approached the front desk and requested a room, registering it under her Mary Watson identity.

Tomorrow, when she was fresh and clean, she would take a transport to the site of the magnolia tree. Tomorrow, she would know if this journey had been a fool’s errand.

Sophie wokewith a start in the pitch-dark room with its blackout drapes drawn. Her breasts ached and the front of her shirt was soaked.

She thought that she’d stopped lactating, but the dream she had had was so vivid . . .

Sophie shut her eyes, willing herself back into the dream.

Sophie and Momi were sharing a warm bath. The two of them were immersed in the tub, and Sophie cuddled and kissed her tiny girl, rinsing suds out of her child’s curls. She blew a gentle raspberry on Momi’s stomach, making the baby arch with the Moro reflex she had read about, the infant’s legs folding tight to her abdomen. She hugged Momi close, snuggling her in against her wet naked skin, reveling in her daughter’s velvety softness and sweet scent.

The warm bath felt as if they were swimming in amniotic fluid together with no separation; they were as physically and emotionally bonded as they could be. Momi nuzzled into Sophie’s neck, seeking nourishment, and Sophie slid her downward and presented her nipple. Sophie felt the powerful sensation of her baby latching on as she nursed. The baby gazed up at Sophie, her golden-brown, long-lashed eyes serious. One tiny starfish hand reached toward her mother’s face.

Tears pricked Sophie’s eyes.

She flung the bedcovers off with a curse. This was no time for lounging around; her child needed her!

She had spent hours in the hotel room the night before, working through multiple VPNs to see if there was any news of the missing men. She’d put a communiqué out to McDonald at the CIA, and surfed online connections for any trace of news. She’d contacted Bix on Oahu, asking for an update. Security Solutions had notified Interpol and the authorities, but no response was forthcoming.

No one wanted to take on the Yam Khûmk?n on their home turf.It was as if the men had fallen off the planet.

Sophie fixed a tepid cup of tea in the room’s coffeepot as her belly tightened with the memory of her online searching. There had been no contact from anyone to the house on Phi Ni.

Sophie had to let it go for now. She’d done all she could to put forces in motion to rescue the team. Now it was up to her to rescue her daughter.

Sophie opened her backpack and unrolled the native costume Nam had packed for her, accompanied by a Muslim headscarf with a translucent black veil that covered half her face.

She donned a long skirt with concealed split legs for movement along with a long-sleeved linen blouse. She draped the head covering over her short hair, secured the veil section of the headscarf, and gazed at herself in the mirror.

The garments were loose and concealing, better than any disguise. No one would question her with culture and modesty so clearly advertised. She was just a Muslim woman, similar to any other except for her height—at five foot nine, she still towered over most of the female population. But for the first time in a long time, Sophie felt invisible—and was grateful for the anonymity. Only her eyes and nose showed—and the wicked scar that ran up her cheekbone, past her eye, and into her hairline.

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