His Darkest Hunger (21 page)

“Christ! I don’t have time for this shit. I need to find Libby.”

Jaxon was so enraged the cat shimmered along his body as mist started to wrap its long fingers around and up the sides of his legs. He moved from them quickly, breathing hard, trying to get his emotions in check.

“Frank DaCosta took Libby.”

The soft words hung in the air, coming out of nowhere. Jaxon turned in a rush, nailing the female Declan still held with his black gaze.

“What did you say?”

The woman swallowed hard, obviously scared. But then her eyes widened and her body went rigid. Her piercing gaze ripped through him, and it was full of a dark and extremely malevolent anger.

“You’re one of them,” she spat, starting to struggle and only relaxing as Declan once more spoke soft words in her ear.

“Who do you think I am?”

“It’s not who.” The woman’s voice was rough and she drew in a ragged breath. “It’s what. You’re no different than the DaCosta scum. You’re all evil.”

Jaxon’s voice was fierce but soft. “Watch your mouth, little girl. A DaCosta jaguar is but a kitten compared to me.”

Her sapphire blue eyes narrowed into twin beams of contempt. Something was off about the woman. Her scent…it was different from anything he’d ever
encountered. It slapped at some distant memory, but he didn’t have patience to sort out the puzzle.

His gaze swung up until he met Declan’s. “Take her back to camp.” He looked to Julian and Cracker. “I want you two to look for Jagger. He’s got to be around someplace…maybe he’s unconscious; I don’t know. You two deal with it and get the hell back to camp.”

Then Jaxon peered out into the gloom. He couldn’t think about Jagger right now, he had to concentrate on the task at hand. His brother was a warrior and a highly trained soldier. He could survive almost anything. Even though Libby had proved resilient and was tough to the core, he needed to get to her.

The jungle beckoned to him on such a primitive level that his body vibrated with an urgency that could not be denied. He had no choice but to heed its call.

He moved toward the thick foliage that lined the perimeter of the compound, his senses high, his long legs filled with purpose as he broke into a jog. He paused briefly at the edge and turned around.

“I won’t return unless I have Libby. I won’t leave her out there again.”

His eyes washed over the still form of his brother and the remaining members of his team. “If I’m not back by the time the plane is ready to leave…”

His voice trailed off, and with a curt nod he turned and disappeared into the thick, silent jungle, his heart black and filled with the need for revenge.

If he wasn’t back in time, they could leave without him, because he would not return to the United States alone.

His heart contracted painfully at the thought. If he didn’t make it out of the jungle with Libby, then this was where he would die.

He snarled as he silently twisted through the thick, verdant forest floor, and he’d damn well take out as many DaCostas as he could along the way.

T
he faint buzzing of an insect whistled close to her ear, and Libby gritted her teeth, flinching as it closed in on her exposed, pale flesh. Her entire arm was already covered in angry looking welts, so one more wouldn’t make a difference, but still she winced as the little bastard bit her but good, and it stung for several seconds before becoming as numb as all the other bites.

She cursed silently. Her hair was plastered to her neck and face, scraggly tendrils of blond that tickled even as they annoyed the crap out of her. She wanted so badly to push the mess away and to scratch, and to—her heart took off like a rocket as blackness ran thickly through her veins—
fucking kill
the bastard who stood just a few feet away from her.

But of course she could do none of this, since her hands were tied behind her back. She tried to
calm her pulsing heart and slow her adrenaline. She needed to conserve her strength if she wanted to make it out of here alive.

She had to. There was no alternative.

Her eyes slowly trailed along the back of the man she hated more than anyone else. His tubby build was a direct contrast to the fact that he was a jaguar warrior, a piss poor one, but a formidable enemy nonetheless.

She’d been pulled along behind Fat Frank for well over two hours. On top of the almost six hour hike she’d put in just to reach the compound, it had been one hell of a long day, and the next several hours promised to be even more of a challenge.

Her eyes bored into the back of his skull, and all sorts of ways to maim and torture flashed before her. She couldn’t remember ever hating this much. Not even when she was at her lowest point over the last few years, and survived on a diet of revenge and hatred, had she felt this all-consumed with such evil thoughts—not even for Jaxon.

Jaxon.

She’d heard the blasts echoing through the night, and another chunk of her heart broke at the thought of him possibly dead or gravely injured. Her eyes closed as she envisioned his face. If she tried hard enough, she could still smell the headiness of their lovemaking from the night before, feel the slickness of his skin as they moved together.

Her body ached, inside and out, so much so that it was almost paralyzing.

“What’s got you so down, bitch?”

Frank’s harsh words and careless laughter fell
over her head as she looked away from him. She calmed her spirit and turned eyes that were both dull and lifeless toward him. She had to keep up the pretense. There was no way Frank could think of her in any way other than pathetic and weak.

“You told me you were taking me to my son. Where is he?” Libby kept her face devoid of expression, but inside, her heart was pounding madly against her chest.

Frank’s dark eyes regarded her in silence. They narrowed, and she felt like spitting in his stupid ass face. He wasn’t extremely bright. She had always been able to tell when he was thinking. It took a lot of energy for him to do that sometimes.

“All in good time.” He continued to regard her, his eyes shifting and wavering until she felt uncomfortable. Something was up. The silence that stretched between the two of them lasted several minutes before he spoke again.

“I know my brothers don’t think I’m very smart, but this time…” His voice trailed off as he laughed once more. “This time I’m the one that knows more than they do.”

“Yeah? And what’s that Frank?”

“Well, wouldn’t you like to know? I’m not stupid! I ain’t gonna spill.” He turned from her. “All in good time.”

Libby felt frustration bubble in her gut. “Aren’t you afraid Jaxon and his boys are coming for you?”

“Jaxon? You’re kidding, right? Did you not hear the big explosions?”

Libby blanched at his words, knowing there was a very real possibility he was right.

“They’re all dead. All of ’em. So don’t be thinking
any of the big bad Castille jaguars are coming after you. Shit, we had you for three years and they never came. What makes you think this time will be any different?”

Defiantly, Libby held his gaze steady, while her belly took a nosedive and the nausea that roiled inside her gut threatened to spill over. With conscious effort she put all thoughts of Jaxon and the rest of the team to the back of her mind. She had survived out here for three long torturous years, and she was so close to finding out the truth,
to finding her son
, she couldn’t blow it now.

The only person she could count on was herself.

She was in charge of her own destiny, and everything that had happened to her since she’d first laid eyes on Jaxon Castille led her to this moment.

Every single act of torture, humiliation, and intimidation that she endured over the past three years had only made her stronger. She could feel it now, sizzling along inside of her, electrifying every cell in her body.

She was meant to be here, and in some insane part of her mind she truly felt more alive than ever before.

Abruptly, Frank broke from her and pulled something from his pocket. It was a phone that must have been on vibrate. He hesitated before answering, and Libby was sure his hands trembled as he nestled the small device against his ear. She tried to calm her nerves while struggling to listen in on his conversation.

She knew that whoever was on the other end was the person in charge, the one pulling his strings. Yanking them would be more accurate. Sweat began
to bead along Frank’s forehead, and as he continued to listen, small rivers of liquid slid down his bloated face and dripped from the end of his nose.

The man was clearly nervous, and Libby strained harder to hear a voice, something to help her figure out what all of this meant. She had gone to the compound with the express purpose of forcing Frank to give her the necessary information she would need to find her son. She had not been prepared for him to offer to take her directly to Logan.

So she’d agreed to go with him willingly. Really, what other choice did she have? Jaxon and his team were on their way, and if Frank were killed, she would never find her boy. Right now he was the only link she had to Logan, and even if it led nowhere, she had to at least try.

She moved her butt a little to the right and found a modicum of relief from the sharp blade of the knife she’d shoved down her pants, as it eased away from her skin. Her gun was tucked away as well, up high near her left thigh.

She sighed softly to herself. It had seemed a little too easy, but then again, she was dealing with someone who was missing more than a few brain cells. Anyone else would have found her weapons. But Frank was a certifiable moron, who used his bulk and enhanced physical power to intimidate and maim. He was nothing more than a thug.

And his time was coming. How she was going to enjoy exacting her revenge.

Libby watched as his eyes furtively crossed over her, and she resumed her hunched over stance. Was she mistaken or had his color turned gray?

He mumbled a few more words into the phone and then quickly crossed back to where she stood, his breaths coming in quick bursts as they wheezed their way out of his lungs.

She began to feel a growing tingle of concern. The fact that he was obviously scared shitless really didn’t bode well for her.

He grabbed the rope he’d tied to her waist, and she raised an eyebrow as he tugged her along behind him once more.

She dug the heels of her boots deep into the moist earth, feeling a sense of glee as he whipped back around to face her, anxious and on edge.

“What the fuck are you trying to pull now? Do you want me to hurt you?”

“I want you to untie me, asshole. I can’t keep this pace up with my hands behind my back.”

She shook her head, trying to use the whole female in distress thing. It had worked for her many times in the past.

“Look,” she said, “I volunteered to come with you. I want my son. I’m not going anywhere other than where you’re headed, so untie my hands and we can get there twice as fast.”

He studied her, his face harsh and pinched in the waning evening light.

He swore and cursed a blue streak but yanked on the rope, pulling her closer, until she was lodged firmly against his chest. His breath was hot against her cheek, and she felt revulsion as his body odor washed over her.

Libby tried to lean away from him, but his lips found their way to the side of her neck, and as he
spoke, a rash of goose bumps spread like fire across her skin.

“You try anything,
anything
, and I will gut you like a pig. You’ll never see your son, you hear?”

She nodded her head in silence, biting her lips in an effort to stifle the disgust lodged in the back of her throat. His meaty fingers wove their way between the tight rope and her skin, and with a swift, assured stroke he cut the rope from her waist and turned her around to do the same to the bindings around her wrists.

The relief she felt as the pressure lessened was short-lived. He pushed her along in front of him, barking orders and maneuvering her toward some destination that only he knew. Her wrists were raw, chafed, and coated with dried blood. She did her best to rub some feeling back into them, picking up the pace as an urgent need to see this night end pounded through her.

For surely there would be closure of some sorts. She just hoped she came out on the winning side of this war she’d stepped into.

They hiked through rugged terrain, and she knew if her sense of direction was correct, they were heading away from the Caribbean and west toward the border that divided Belize from Guatemala. A faint buzzing rang in her ears and at first puzzled her, but as she concentrated on the noise, she realized it was Frank’s phone. He was pointedly ignoring the summons.

They had just crested a hill when a roaring, thunderous sound reached her. Fine, wet mist caressed her cheeks, and she realized they were near a huge
waterfall. Her tongue, swollen from thirst, dryly licked at her chapped lips. Frank was breathing hard as well and stopped for a second, reaching into his pack and grabbing a bottle of water, from which he drank deeply, not caring that a great amount trickled out the corner of his mouth and down his chin.

Libby averted her eyes. She would not beg for a drink. She was close to a water source and would wait until then to quench her thirst. She watched as the large warrior wiped beads of sweat from his face. It had been pouring freely from him since they resumed their march through the jungle, and once more she was struck by how tense he seemed.

An uneasy feeling slithered through her belly as he motioned for her to continue. Her legs carried her forward, and no matter how hard she tried, her pace had slowed significantly. But for whatever reason, Frank seemed content to keep time with her, and she massaged her side, finally acknowledging the sharp pain that had come back with a vengeance.

Her eyes were dark with anger as she shot a glance toward Frank, but he was preoccupied and his own were trained much farther away. Bastard! He was the reason her ribs had been broken in the first place. She remembered it clearly now, and scowled into the darkness as it rushed through her mind, painted fresh and vibrant with color, as if it had happened only yesterday.

He’d been pissed off over something, but with Fat Frank, there always was something. He had come to her prison, his manner loud and aggressive. At that point she had shared her quarters with another woman, a blonde who didn’t talk much.

The other woman had instigated a confrontation, and now that she thought of it, Libby was sure she was trying to force a situation that would result in her own escape. Of course that didn’t happen, and in a fit of rage Frank lashed out, attacking both of them, kicking Libby in the ribs with all his might, breaking at least two.

She hadn’t laid eyes on him again until she walked into her former prison just a few hours earlier. She was surprised to see that the blond woman was still there, defiant and surprisingly still alive.

Libby didn’t care. The mystery woman was no concern of hers.

Frank came to a sudden stop, and her mind quickly moved from memories of the past to take in the magnificent falls that cascaded down before her. She cranked her head upward, but the night was thick with a velvety blanket of darkness, and she couldn’t see how far up it went. The roar was intense, so she assumed the drop was extremely steep.

Eerie tendrils of fog slithered along the ground, fingering their way outward from the mist that surrounded the fast moving water. Libby took a step back, sensing a darkness that infiltrated the fog as if something,
or someone,
was using it as some sort of conduit to get to them.

It was malevolent. It was evil.

Her mouth went dry as she felt coldness creep into her bones, and her feelings intensified. She held back a yelp as the fog wrapped its long tentacles around her ankles, sliding along her legs and up her body. She took a step back as she sensed a presence, and peered into the gloom, wanting to know, needing to see who her enemy was.

“What is this place?” she whispered, more to herself than to him.

“Shut up and follow me. Keep quiet and for God sakes don’t touch anything.”

Libby shot Frank a puzzled look, but obediently followed him as he began to pick his way around the large boulders and moved toward the side of the steep cliff. The malevolent feeling continued to follow her, and she shivered with cold. She wasn’t sure if it was because she was now soaking wet from the water in the air or because she knew there was something there.

Watching her. Waiting.

Anger surged and rushed from her belly up to her heart, and she began to walk with purpose, her head held high. Her entire frame hummed with repressed energy, and the adrenaline rush warmed her skin.

Frank continued to climb, and she followed suit. They reached a ledge, and now that she was closer she could see an entrance to a cave behind the cascading buckets of water. Frank looked back and motioned her forward.

She snickered silently.
Coward!
Pushing her way past him, she carefully picked a path over an extremely slippery rock face. The spray of mist drenched her even more, but she welcomed the purity of its wetness.