Page 56 of Winters Heat

“Parker is pulling flight plans and Silva real estate holdings. Both here and in South America. We’ll narrow it down fast, find satellite feed, and see what’s up.”

“You’re wasting too much time. We know they’re headed to Colombia. Have Parker feed us a destination after we’re in the air. Do it.”

“Watch yourself, Winters.” Jared stood square. Shoulders back. Eyes narrowed.

Winters didn’t care. “Do it. Make the call.”

Jared paced one turn of the room and muttered, then looked back at the men. No one moved. Not even Winters. No, Winters prayed. Prayers for a quick call to action. Prayers for blood soaked vengeance. He bargained with God, asking that his bullets meet their intended target, and offered…everything.

Jared stopped and motioned to Winters. “All right. We'll bring the fight to them. But we do it my way, understand?”

Thank the Lord.His ruthless prayers were answered.

***

Shaking, Mia couldn’t control her muscles, and she couldn’t wipe away her tears. Her hands were bound, and she was terrified. Her abductors had left her on the floor. She rolled across the cargo plane like a ragdoll. Each burst of turbulence nauseated her, only worsening her fear. They’d been in the air for hours, but now, they descended. The engines roared. The flaps moaned and the wheels extended. Destination reached, wherever that was. She wanted to vomit.

Mia’s teeth jarred at the hard landing, which jarred her across the dirty floor. She struggled to open her eyes under the blindfold. They taxied over bumps and jumps. Each drop smashed her bruised cheekbone onto the splintered floor, re-scratching her scabbed-over scratches. She tasted dirt and blood.

It was the second flight since they jammed a gun in her back at the rundown mansion. They hollered at her in Spanish, and she could only guess at their meaning.Move. Run. Sit. Stop.Her high school teacher always said she should study harder, because it would come in handy. Nope. She’d been busy drowning her miseries in book after book, all in English.

The cargo plane halted hard, as if the pilot forgot a happy medium existed between go and stop. Her chin hit a metal hook jutting from the floor. One more scratch to go with the dozen other newbies. This ride was nothing if not an opportunity to scar up more of her body.

She couldn’t see anything, but judging by what she had rolled over and into, cargo planes had a lot of bells and whistles in the tie down department. They certainly didn’t have chairs and seatbelts. Her first flight was on a business charter, and she had a chair. It had been an unknown luxury. No view with the blindfold, but the chair was appreciated. Mucho appreciated, if she wanted to speak like the locals. Which she didn’t. Crap. She was cracking up again. Time to check back in with her DSM-IV.

Such cruel irony. She thought she’d see Colby in a suit over a candlelit dinner. The deck was stacked against her. She knew it.

Cut the woe-is-me act. I have to survive.

A loud noise grinded, and she heard the back of the cargo plane open. Light burned through her blindfold. Heat and humidity poured into the airless belly of the plane. Rough hands grabbed her. Mia tried to keep up, but unable to see the ridges and snaps on the floor, she tripped more than walked.

The blindfold came off with all the finesse the pilot had taken with his landing. She blinked, desperate to acclimate to the sun’s vicious glare. They were definitely not on US soil. Her captors chatted, paying her no attention. They didn’t hide their faces, or their weapons, or their complete disinterest in her survival.

She glanced right, then left, scared to move her head. Men patrolled the airstrip with automatic weapons slung over their shoulders and large handguns strapped to their hips.This could be a Hollywood movie set.But, it looked real, because it was real. No one noticed how out of place she was because no one cared.

A man gripped her arm until her fingertips tingled.

“Move. El Jefe has a place for you,” he said in broken English.

His rancid breath hung close. He stank of stale sweat and cheap liquor. Another threat of vomiting loomed, and his uniform, reminiscent of soldiers captured by the evening news, might be where it landed. This was a hell zone.

Disoriented, Mia took in her surroundings. Lush vegetation on all sides.The rainforest. She had collected pennies to help save this stinkin’ place when she was a kid.

In the distance, she saw white-capped mountain peaks. A wood shack with boards peeling back from the posts and white paint flaking off was dead ahead. More uniformed, armed guards stood watch by the broken front door.

They walked toward the shack. A cold shiver rocked her like she’d stepped through a ghost. Nothing good happened in that shack. Mere feet before the door, she was released and catapulted forward. Palms first, Mia broke her fall in a scuffled cloud of dust. Pain vibrated from her hands to her neck and echoed back. Her teeth slammed together at impact, and, again, the taste of blood seeped into her mouth. She ran her tongue over a slice where her front teeth had cut her lip.

As if she needed the help, a boot landed firmly on her butt and pushed her into the windowless shack. The place was dark, and it reeked of death. The humidity did nothing to erase the dirt floating in the air. It caked the corners of her mouth and irritated her eyes. A metallic click. Chains rattled. She was safe and secure from the monsters. At least until they unlocked the door.

What would Colby do if he were here? Probably fashion a bazooka out of a bamboo shoot and blast his way home in time for dinner.

Pieces of Spanish and the smell of cigarettes filtered in to the humid dungeon. Colby would know she was in danger by now. He had to know, and he would come with guns blasting. White knight, round four.This is what he does for a living. He saves people.Extraction. Explosions. Extravaganzas.

He’d come.

Please come.

Outside her shack, armed men jeered. Insects crawled on her skin. Hungry animals of all sorts lurked nearby. She could hear them but didn’t know what posed a graver danger—drunk men with a serious lack of morals, or the all the howling, growling wildlife that the rainforest had to offer.

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