Amy held her breath, afraid the men might hear the whisper of air pa.s.sing in and out of her lungs. Something was said in Spanish and then the second man started walking away. She dared a slow breath, praying both of them would leave, that they wouldn't spot the boat hidden a few feet away among the leafy bushes.

She could no longer see the second man and for an instant, she was sure the man in front of her was going to walk away. Then the leaves erupted behind her and strong hands grabbed her around the waist. Amy struggled as he dragged her backward. When the man in front of her shoved the bushes aside and reached for her, too, Amy thrust her arms straight out in front of her and c.o.c.ked the pistol.

Twenty-Six.

It didn't take long to reach the rendezvous point they had chosen. Trying not to worry about Amy, Johnnie did a belly crawl up to where Jake lay in the foliage propped on his elbows, studying the house fifty yards away through a pair of binoculars.

"House sits right at the top of the hill just like in the satellite pictures," Johnnie said, zeroing his own binoculars in on the house.

"I don't think Ortega figured on Google Earth when he built the place."

The open, white, single-story residence wasn't large like the villa, but it was fashioned in an elegant, Spanish style with wide red tile decks off the living room and each of three bedrooms that looked out over the sea. The lights were on inside and soft lights illuminated the decks, making it easy for them to see through the huge plate gla.s.s windows, but so far there had been no sign of Rachael or any other woman, just a houseboy and a couple of other male servants.

"No problem with the guard?" Jake asked him.

Johnnie grinned. "He's napping peacefully. Yours?"

"Decided he'd rather sit this one out."

Johnnie chuckled. "Smart move." So two of Ortega's soldiers were out of commission. Sloc.u.m was still doing recon and hadn't yet reached the rendezvous point.

"That's Ortega," Johnnie said, recognizing the man moving around on the other side of the windows from the photos he had seen. "Two men with him."

"They aren't protection," Jake said. "Dressed more like guests." Both Caucasian, one blond, one dark-haired, both in Bermuda shorts and short-sleeved sport shirts.

Carlos Ortega was lean and fit with thick, silver-tinged black hair. He was wearing a turquoise silk shirt, loose-fitting ivory slacks and a pair of sandals.

Jake checked the time. "Plane must have gotten in late. Doesn't look like they've been here long."

Johnnie focused on the house. "You're right. Bottle of rum on the bar is almost full."

Jake glanced around. "Ben should be back any minute...unless he ran into trouble."

So far, they'd only seen the two guards, but Sloc.u.m might have encountered more. Still, it wasn't the small army Ortega surrounded himself with at the villa. He definitely felt safe here.

The SEAL returned as silently as he had slipped off into the jungle. "I didn't see anyone else. Some sign, though. Could be another man out there, maybe more.

Not good. Amy was on the island. If one of Ortega's men spotted her, she was in trouble.

"There's another building on the leeward side," Sloc.u.m said. "Kind of a bungalow. It's hidden back in the foliage, maybe a hundred yards out."

Johnnie caught movement inside the house. "Something's going on." Training his binoculars on the men, he saw them walking toward a gla.s.s door at the far end of the living room. Ortega slid it open and stepped out onto the deck.

"Looks like they're heading out," Johnnie said as Ortega stepped off the deck and started leading the men down a path into the jungle. A man they hadn't noticed before fell in behind the group, big brawny, civilian clothes, but the way he moved, the way he surveyed his surroundings without actually looking, marked him as a professional. "Let's see what they're up to."

Staying low, Johnnie had just begun to move out when the distant crack of a gunshot split the air. It sounded as if it had come from the beach down by the lagoon where they'd hidden the boat.

"Amy." His gut clenched as a jolt of adrenaline shot through his blood.

"Go. I'm right behind you," Jake said. "Ben can keep an eye on things here."

Johnnie didn't hesitate. All he could think of was getting to Amy. But the darkness made speed impossible. He wouldn't be much good to her if he wound up falling into some ravine. Keeping low and out of sight, he moved farther into the jungle, Jake a few steps behind. A little ways down the hill, they split up, both of them heading for the lagoon from different angles.

Johnnie reached the beach first, headed straight for the spot he'd left Amy. The ground around the place she had been hiding was churned up, indicating a struggle.

But Amy wasn't there.

A knot twisted hard in his gut. Johnnie pulled in a deep breath, steadying himself. Using his little four-inch LED light, he checked the area, spotted a pair of men's boot tracks in the mud on an overgrown path leading away from the lagoon.

He looked up as Jake appeared, coming in from the other direction. "Boat's where we left it," Jake said. "Where's Amy?"

Johnnie just shook his head. His chest was clamping down so hard he could barely breathe. The shot had been Amy's signal for help. She was in trouble and he hadn't been able to reach her.

He steeled himself, pointed into the undergrowth. "Two sets of boot prints. There's a game trail leading up the hill. They must have taken her with them."

Jake followed his gaze up the path. The darkness had been their friend when they had arrived, now it was their enemy.

"So let's go find her," Jake said calmly, words that helped him push past his fear.

In the blackness, the overgrown meandering path was hard to see. As the better tracker, Jake started up the trail in front of him. The clouds had thinned, helping them a little. At the first turn in the path, Jake paused, pointed to the footprints that moved along ahead of him. "One set of tracks is deeper. Either he's a lot heavier or he's carrying something."

The knot in Johnnie's stomach tightened. He was carrying something, all right, and Johnnie knew what that something was.

The men fell back into step, moving silently. The clouds floated apart for a moment and a thin ray of moonlight illuminated the way. Then Johnnie's light flashed over a drop of something shiny on a leaf overgrowing the trail. He reached out and touched it, rubbed the wetness between his fingers, smelled it.

"Blood," he said, and rage boiled up inside him.

"Take it easy. We don't know it's hers."

"It better not be."

Jake started forward, moving as silently as the heavy foliage would allow. They needed to find Amy, disarm the men as quietly as possible and complete their mission. But if they hurt his woman, they were dead men.

The rope binding her wrists cut into Amy's flesh. The gag in her mouth tasted like sweat and tobacco as she bobbed along, and the guard's meaty shoulder dug painfully into her belly. Her baseball cap was long gone, her hair loose from its ponytail. The other man walked behind them, holding his bleeding arm, his rifle slung across his back. He swore at her through gritted teeth, calling her foul names in Spanish.

She had shot him, though she hadn't really done it on purpose. She'd been hoping she could warn him away and signal Johnnie at the same time. Instead, she'd nicked his arm.

Not that she felt bad about it.

These were the men who'd brought Rachael to the island, Ortega's men. She shuddered. And now they had her.

Fear curled in her stomach. She prayed Johnnie had heard the shot and that he would come for her, told herself all she had to do was stay alive until he got there.

As the man who carried her reached a fork in the trail and started upward again, she spotted a building ahead, a house, she saw, white, single-story, elegant, with lots of windows facing the sea. The men continued past it, walking rapidly down the narrow, nearly invisible path.

Leaves and branches slapped at her face as they pushed through the foliage. Behind the gag, her mouth was cotton dry. A little ways farther down the trail, the faint outline of a second, much smaller structure appeared in the darkness, and the men increased their pace, eager to reach their destination.

The next thing she knew she was being carried inside the building, dumped onto a sofa in what appeared to be the living room. A guard stood inside the door, wearing the same beige uniform as the others. Another man, big and powerfully built, stood next to the bar. Dark hair, dark eyes, wearing tan slacks and a sport shirt, he might have pa.s.sed for a guest if it weren't for the cold look in his eyes and the hard lines of his face.

Amy swallowed past a lump of fear as a well-dressed Hispanic male approached where she lay on the sofa, still bound and gagged, staring up at him.

"Senorita Brewer, I a.s.sume."

She couldn't reply with the dirty rag tied over her mouth, and in a way she was grateful, since she had no idea what to say. The man motioned for the guard who had carried her inside to untie the gag. The one with the injured arm had wrapped a towel around it. Apparently, he wasn't hurt all that badly.

Unfortunately.

Even after the gag was removed, her mouth felt bone-dry.

He eyed her coldly. "I know who you are. I heard you were in Placencia asking questions. I am your host, Carlos Ortega." The edge of his mouth curved into a smile that wasn't. "It is my property upon which you trespa.s.s. I a.s.sume you are here to visit your sister."

Her eyes widened. "She's here? Rachael's alive?"

One of his silver-tinged black eyebrows went up. "Why wouldn't she be? Quite a beautiful young woman, your sister. Killing such an exceptional creature would be a waste...do you not agree?"

"Yes, but..." She wanted to believe what the man was saying. Wanted it with all her heart. But looking at Ortega and the hard-faced soldiers he employed, she failed miserably.

"Who brought you here?" Ortega continued pleasantly. He held a crystal bar gla.s.s filled with ice and a light amber liquid. A bottle of rum sat open on the counter. She recognized the Angostura label from when she had worked at the club. "I asked you a question, chica."

Amy moistened her lips. She was still trying to process the news that Rachael might actually be here on the island.

His features tightened. "Do not make me ask you again."

Amy took a steadying breath. She'd had plenty of time to think of an answer to the question she knew she'd be asked. "My boyfriend brought me. We found out my sister was planning...planning a trip to Belize. We thought if we came down here we might...might be able to find her."

"Your sister mentioned my name?"

No choice but to continue to bluff. "That's right. She said a man named Ortega had a villa down here and she was...she was coming for a visit."

"How did you find the island?"

She swallowed, prayed she looked frightened-which she was-and sincere, which she wasn't. She didn't want to put the woman who had helped her in danger.

"It was mostly just luck. A man in the village heard we were looking for a woman named Rachael Brewer. He said if we paid him, he would help us. We gave him money and he...he told us about the island."

Ortega's lips thinned. "Do you remember this man's name?"

She shook her head. "He never...never told us. We never asked. We only wanted to be sure she was all right."

"I see." He swirled the ice in his gla.s.s, took a slow sip, as if he savored the taste. "Where is your boyfriend now?"

"I-I don't know. He was going to do some exploring, see what he could find out. He was supposed to come back for me but...but he didn't."

Ortega turned to the guards who had brought her, said something to them in Spanish and they laughed. Clearly they weren't afraid of the man she had come with. Amy thought of Johnnie in his flak vest, automatic weapon slung over his chest, and black-painted face. Big mistake.

"Antoine, take a look around outside, find out if the problem has been resolved. If not, you and the others take care of it."

The black guard who had been standing by the door turned and disappeared out of the house.

"Do you want us to go with him?" the man with the injured arm asked.

"You two stay here, just in case."

The guard nodded and positioned himself by the door. Down the hall, Amy could hear men's voices, what might have been those of women, and the occasional lewd remark coming from what appeared to be a row of bedrooms. She glanced around the living room, which was decorated with lurid paintings of naked women. There were carved erotic objects, phallic symbols and people making love in different positions.

Her stomach churned.

Dear G.o.d, where was Johnnie?

Ortega sipped his drink. "So you and your boyfriend came all the way out here alone?" Ortega continued, baiting her, hoping to catch her in a lie.

"We just...just came to check things out, see if the information we got was true."

"Is that so? Well, then I think it is time you found the answer to your question." He walked over, stroked a hand over her hair, bent and wiped a smudge of grease paint off her cheek. "I believe, once you are clean, you may be as beautiful as your sister." His feral smile made her stomach roll with nausea.

"In the meantime, I am sure my men will find your friend and bring him here to join our little party." Ortega took a long, slow drink of his rum. "In fact, most likely they already have."

Twenty-Seven.

Too f.u.c.king late. They'd been so close, just seconds behind Amy and the soldiers who had taken her. But close only counted in horseshoes. Instead, Johnnie had reached the second structure just in time to see the men they had been following disappear inside the house, one carrying Amy over his shoulder. It took all Johnnie's self-control not to charge in after them.

At least she's still alive.

Jake eased up beside where Johnnie crouched in the foliage watching the bungalow. There were windows in the front facing the sea, but they weren't big enough to see much of what was happening inside. Through the binoculars, every once in a while, he caught a glimpse of Amy, saw her bound and lying on the sofa.

"We know the two we followed are inside," Jake said. "Might be more."

"Along with Ortega and his friends."

"That's right and one of them looked like his bodyguard."

"Yeah, and now he knows someone's on the island. He'll be pressing Amy for answers. We've got to get in before he hurts her."

Johnnie started to move, but Jake caught his arm. "Not yet. Taking out the guards isn't the problem. The trick is getting in without getting Amy killed."

Johnnie's stomach clenched. All he could think of was getting to Amy, but he knew Jake was right. They couldn't rush in like a herd of stampeding bulls. They needed to check things out, move in slowly, make sure Amy was out of the line of fire.