Ricardo (The Santiago Brothers Book Three) (3 page)

His eyes clouded the longer he stared at her. Mel nodded her understanding. She rose from her seat and he from the floor. She hesitated at his action and nearly fell back into the chair in an effort to step back and create distance.

“Do you need any help?”

She shook her head no. She held onto the side of the table and started in the direction of the back room. She didn’t make it far before he was beside her, holding her firm against his side.

“Let me help you.”

“I’m okay.”

“Stop struggling.” He grinned at her feeble attempts to push him away. “I won’t hurt you,” he whispered into her ear.

She’d heard that one before. The last time she believed it, more than her heart was damaged and she swore never to make that mistake ever again. Yet, she couldn’t deny that from the moment their eyes met, he wasn’t like other men. He was different somehow. She allowed him to help her into a back room where a tub of steaming water awaited, but her eyes scanned the room for anything sharp she could use as a weapon — just in case.

“There are clothes for you on that chair in the corner.” Ric pointed to the chair. “Hakeem should return with food soon, but take your time. I’ll see about getting a physician to look at you.”

“No, no doctors.” She wriggled out of his hold and moved to grip the edge of the porcelain tub. “I’m fine. I just need something more to drink…and I’m hungry.”

“I’ll bring another glass of water in.” Ric disappeared for a few moments and returned with a full glass. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, thank you.” She glanced over her shoulder at his concerned expression. “I think I’ll be all right now.” She watched him leave before she breathed out a heavy sigh.
I’ll be all right… I’ll be all right…

As soon as I get out of here!

“You should consider marrying her.”

“What did you say?” Ric’s head snapped up from his equipment to see Hakeem standing before him, an amused expression on his face. “Did you say…” He glanced toward the area of the tent where Mel took her bath. “Marry her?” he whispered. “Are you insane?”

“You want to keep her safe?”

“And how does my marrying her accomplish that? Really, Hakeem, you’ve been out in the sun too long. At your age? Perhaps you should lie down for a while.”

Hakeem chuckled.

Ric narrowed his eyes at his old friend, and wondered at the seriousness of Hakeem’s heatstroke. The man must have lost his mind to suggest such a ridiculous idea. Marriage for him was out of the question: especially to a woman he didn’t know and would only be with for a few days at the most — and hopefully the very least. Ric stood and gripped Hakeem’s arms. “Look, dear friend, I need you on this. You’re the only one I can trust. Now, if you need some sleep…”

Hakeem harrumphed and shrugged Ric’s hands away. “I need no sleep. What about the sheik?”

The sheik.

Sheik Hassan was an unanticipated concern. Ric dropped to his knees. “Can you believe he just tossed Mel to the men like that?” He reached for a flashlight and stuffed it into a pocket on the side of his cargo pants.

Hakeem frowned. “Hmm. Yes, it’s troubling.” He collapsed into a nearby chair, apparently more exhausted than he led Ric to believe.

Ric sat back on his heels and stared into space as he pondered the scene earlier in Hassan’s tent. “He’s never struck me as the type who would keep concubines.”

Hakeem slowly stroked his long beard. “Perhaps there are shades of him you’ve not yet discovered.”

The thought of “shades” was troubling. Sheik Hassan was a high-value source in Ric’s operations. Source handling was a delicate art; trusting a source too much could result in the handler becoming lackadaisical, making him vulnerable to a set up. Then again, not trusting a source meant having to sometimes triple-verify information, which would impede operations. He couldn’t afford
not
to trust Hassan if he wanted to uncover the identity of the person who shipped weapons and supplies and facilitated the movements of suicide bombers into the UAE to attack the US Embassy.

But where Mel’s body — and possibly life — was concerned, he
couldn’t
trust Hassan…

“He was so in love with his wife,” Ric continued. “I
thought
he was so in love with Fatima.”

“He was. Ms. Lewis isn’t Fatima.”

“No, she isn’t,” Ric mused. Now it began to make sense.
One way to get over losing someone is to get underneath another.
But the entire camp?
“I’ve never witnessed this type of cruelty from him.”

“He’s a sheik. They’re often very shrewd.”

“When it comes to business,” Ric argued. “But this is a woman’s life.”

“How well do you know Hassan? You know his business holdings, but what of his personal beliefs? How he views women?”

Ric knew enough to successfully pressure Hassan if he needed information. And the man had been married to one woman for nearly twenty-five years.

“He’s not the romantic you believe him to be. Yes, he is grieving for his wife, but he cares nothing for a kidnapped woman — an American woman — brought into his camp and will allow her to be…” Hakeem looked toward the wash area that was sectioned off by the heavy fabric of the tent.

Ric, too, glanced in the direction where Melody bathed. He strained his ears to listen for sounds of rustling bathwater or her moving around, but he heard absolutely nothing.
She’s probably fallen asleep in the tub.

“Since you’ve had me working for Hassan, I’ve witnessed him disregard even the life of a child who was found to be disobedient to his father. The boy was severely whipped and not allowed food for three days.”

Ric shut his eyes to Hakeem’s accusations. He believed his old friend’s story,
but where would Hassan have done this? In his many palaces, no doubt.

“If you hadn’t requested to have her first—”

“I know, Hakeem,” Ric said, his tone grave. He might have heard her faint screams from someone else’s tent instead of silence from his own. Ric stood and moved to the dividing drape. “Melody? Are you all right?”

More silence.

Ric put his hands on his hips and blew out a quick breath. “Melody? Look, I don’t want to interrupt, but I’m coming in if you don’t say something.” The seconds ticked by painfully slow. The sounds of Hakeem’s breathing and the thumping of Ric’s heart blared loudly in his ears. “I’m coming in.” Ric threw aside the curtain and stepped inside. Only the faint steam from an empty tub greeted him. His eyes quickly scanned the rest of the small room before he rushed to the private entrance to his bedroom.

Hakeem followed Ric. “Why would she be in your room?”

Ric faced Hakeem. His heart sunk to his feet. “She’s gone.”

****

Do you have any idea what you’re doing? Of course I do. I’m a Deputy United States Marshal. I’m quick on my feet; a survivor
. Mel stopped to rest behind another large tent. She stooped in the sand, pulled out the large water bottle she’d found in the washroom and took a long swig.
All I need to do is find some kind of vehicle and a map to get me to an embassy
. She wiped the lingering traces of liquid from her lips and chin.

And just how was she supposed to do that in the dark?

The camp was pitch black, and clouds covered both the moon and stars. Kept blindfolded for what seemed to be days, she had no concept of the time of day, and hadn’t anticipated the sun to set so soon after she’d been taken to Ricardo’s tent. Lit torches lined the center aisle of the camp and were posted at the entrances of the tents. On the outer rim, where she remained hidden behind a massive tent, were the shadows of the night.

I should’ve at least waited until I had something to eat.
When was the last time she’d consumed
any
food? Days at least. Her head spun, and even though she’d been outside for a few minutes, her eyes hadn’t adjusted to the darkness. She closed them in an effort to ease the rocking of her brain. When the spinning slowed, she slowly opened her eyes and attempted to stand. More than just her head swirled. She’d grossly underestimated her strength and when she felt herself falling, she screamed.

But she didn’t hear the sound of her voice. A hand muffled her cry. A strong arm encircled her waist and kept her from hitting the tent and the sand. Her struggles against whoever held her slacked as her strength failed her.

“What do you think you’re doing?” A voiced hissed in her ear. “Where were you planning on going?”

The embassy. Oh Lord, I need to get to the embassy! 
She whimpered her response from behind his hand that was still clamped over her mouth. A flickering golden glow passed her sight. She was being dragged away from her hiding place.
Where is he taking me?
Mel tried to concentrate through the fog of her water and nutrient-starved brain to recall the sound of the man’s voice. Was it Ricardo? It couldn’t be Abdul; she’d recognize his raspy voice in her sleep. Whoever he was, he kept them hidden in the outlier shadows of the tent city.
He doesn’t want us to be seen.

Ricardo had mentioned saving her from the men in the camp. She hadn’t asked what was going to happen to her. What would a group of men want to do with a woman?
Maybe this is one of the men.
Ricardo had claimed her for a few days — at least as many as was needed to complete whatever mission he was on.
This guy is cashing in too early.
Would Ricardo be able to claim her again?
Why would he want to? I snuck out; he’s probably done with me.

Although Ricardo hadn’t touched her, Mel wasn’t certain she could trust him. Men always had a way of breaking their vows, crushing her dreams, and taking from her what wasn’t theirs. The only man she’d had grown to trust was her former partner, Alejandro Santiago, and he was half a planet away.

You can do this, Melody. Just fight! Just fight!

A soft light blinded her eyes. The man ushered her underneath a tent flap and into the arms of…Hakeem!

“Here, take her,” the man said.

Over her shoulder, she could see the glittering eyes of Ricardo. He secured the tent and returned his hard gaze to her. “What do you think you were doing?” he asked in a harsh whisper. “Where were you planning on going?”

“The embassy,” she croaked. “Water, please.”

Hakeem moved her to a chair and retrieved a familiar glass filled with water on a small table. She was back in the washroom. The soft, white towel on the table with the glass hadn’t been moved, and the bathwater was lightly steaming now.
I couldn’t have been gone for more than a few minutes.
Although time seemed to have stretched since she’d left the tent.

“Are you trying to get yourself caught?” Ricardo continued with his interrogation.

Mel accepted the water from Hakeem and eagerly drank. Where was the bottle she had with her?
I must have put it down in the sand.
Mel closed her heavy lids briefly before she forced them up again.
  I’m losing my mind.
Not only had she had barely eaten anything and was rarely given water by her captor, she had refused to sleep. Her fear of attack forced her to mitigate as many of her vulnerabilities she could possibly have control over as a captive.

“Do you know what would’ve happened had I not found you?”

The back of her eyes stung, but she kept them open. The air dried away the sign of impending tears. Ricardo had moved to stand in front of her, hands on hips. His glare had Mel shifting in her seat.

“Do you think you’re safe out there?”

“Maybe safer than in here.”

“You’ve got to be joking.”

Mel smarted as she turned away from his infuriated gaze. She wouldn’t second-guess herself, not now. Not when she was hundreds, maybe thousands of miles away from any source of aid. Out here, she was subject to the men who had kidnapped her, and the man with familiar eyes who held her — compelled her to place her trust in him when he could be just as nefarious as the others. What was this “mission”? Who did he really work for? Did the US government sanction his work or was he with a rogue group?
Too many questions and not enough answers. And I’m so tired!

“In case you missed the memo, I’m the only one in a thousand miles who can keep you safe, but you
have
to trust me.”

You have a choice, honey; you always have a choice. You can either trust God or trust man — and you know what man can do and what he can’t
. Her grandmother’s words of wisdom were always timely and full of truth. Regardless of how well Ricardo was treating her, her trust was better placed in herself than a man she barely knew.

Hakeem cleared his throat. “I will get more hot water and see about the food.”

Ricardo waited until Hakeem had disappeared before he spoke again. “Melody,” Ric squatted before her, his eyes entreating as he gazed up at her, “you’re weak from lack of food and water. You need to rest. Take a bath, and by the time you’re finished, Hakeem will be back with food.”

Mel stared at the metal tub. The inviting water called out to her dirt-filled pores and crusty crevices. A fresh set of clothing wasn’t a bad idea, either, as the jeans and tank top she had on needed burning immediately.

“If you leave the tent… If someone catches you, I can’t protect you.”

Her eyes met his. If he was a spy, then he was a well-trained liar and all her truth-detecting skills were useless. He sounded sincere and there was no mistaking the genuine concern in his eyes.

Ricardo stood and leaned against a nearby table and crossed his arms. When she raised a brow at his silence, he swept an arm toward the tub. “Be my guest.”

“Not with you in the room.”

He snorted. “If you think I’m going to let you out of my sight after what you just pulled, you’re more delirious than I thought. I’ll turn my back, but until you’re willing to trust me and
stay
in the tent, I don’t have a choice.” Through his thick beard she saw his smirk. He crisscrossed his arms over his chest again. He shifted his rear on the edge of the table as if to get comfortable. “Do you want to continue stinking up the joint, or do you want to bathe?”