Seduced by His Target (4 page)

Her gaze narrowed on the white-turbaned man with the creepy eyes, the one they called Manzoor. He appeared to be their leader, given how the other men deferred to him. She could envision him consorting with her father. He had the same inhuman eyes.

The man with the silver tooth and checkered scarf was named Amir. He struck her as less intelligent, as more of an enforcer than a thinker, but she knew better than to sell him short. He had a sadistic look about him, as if he delighted in inflicting pain—like her heinous brother, Sultan.

She was less certain about Rasheed, the man who’d captured her. Her gaze lingered on him as he went through the prescribed motions of the midday prayer. He intrigued her; she’d give him that much. Every time she looked his way, her nerves went on full alert. But he was too earthy, too masculine with that beard stubble and muscled build—exactly the kind of man she took pains to avoid.

As if sensing her appraisal, he turned his head, his dark gaze fastening on hers. And for an instant she couldn’t breathe, her heart embarking on a crazy sprint. She took in his shaggy, jet-black hair, the intelligence in his midnight eyes, the banked power in the way he moved. He’d removed his jacket when the weather warmed and pushed his sleeves to his elbows, exposing the dark hair sprinkling his corded arms.

The men all stood, and he looked away. She dragged in a breath, trying to figure out her baffling reaction to this man. He was obviously a criminal. Why else would he kidnap her? But she couldn’t escape the impression that he was different somehow. She kept imagining those glimmers of sympathy, making her wonder if he might care.

She rolled her eyes in disgust. Talk about wishful thinking! She was grasping at straws, letting his undeniably virile looks influence her thinking and indulging in fantasies that could get her killed.

Besides, she didn’t need his help. She’d relied on herself for years, surviving far worse dangers than this. And she was going to escape these men.

But she had to help Henry recover first. Her own stomach growling, she opened the flap on the saddlebag and rooted inside for food. She unearthed a container filled with some kind of jerky, several bags of dried fruit and nuts and a cache of coca leaves. She set the food on a towel with a bottle of water, then gently nudged Henry’s arm. “Henry, wake up. You need to eat.”

He opened his eyes with a groan. “What?”

“Come on. You haven’t eaten in hours.”

Grimacing, he sat up straighter and glanced around. “Where are we?”

“I don’t know. We’ve been heading north toward the border with Colombia.” She handed him the water bottle. “We’ve descended quite a bit, though, so you should start feeling better before too long.”

“I hope so. My head...”

Nadine peered into his bloodshot eyes. “Your pupils look normal. How’s your vision?”

“Better. Clear. And the ringing in my ears has stopped. But I’m tired. And this blasted headache...”

“Try to eat something, and then you can take a nap.” She pulled the towel closer, making it easier for him to reach.

“I don’t suppose you have any painkillers?”

“No, just the coca leaves.”

Henry grunted. “Looks like I’ll get some firsthand experience with folk medicine this trip.”

“I’d rather get you to a hospital.” Not that she discounted the coca leaves. A natural analgesic, the locals had used them for centuries to treat everything from broken bones and malaria to asthma and fatigue. But Henry needed more medical care than that.

Nibbling a slice of jerky, she turned her mind back to their main problem: how to escape. Their medical team would alert the authorities, of course. But they’d been too high in the mountains to reach civilization for at least another day. And until they did, until the government could mobilize their forces and send out someone to search for them, she and Henry were on their own.

But Henry couldn’t hike. He’d never survive a flight on horseback with the kidnappers in full pursuit. And even if they had the supplies, even if they wanted to hide out in the mountains until their kidnappers gave up and left, Henry didn’t have the luxury of time. So unless a miracle occurred, they were out of luck. She’d have to wait until they reached a town where they could find a car.

She glanced at Henry again. He’d collapsed against the tree trunk, already asleep, a half-eaten slice of jerky in his hand. Hoping the nap would do him good, she returned her attention to the three men concluding their prayers. A minute later Rasheed broke away from the group and headed her way.

Her heart began to drum. She dropped her gaze, feigning fascination with her jerky as he joined her at the tree. He lowered himself to the ground beside Henry and reached for the bags of food, and she struggled to stay aloof—but he was too blatantly male to ignore. She took in the impressive breadth of his shoulders, the thick tendons roping his tanned arms, and her pulse beat faster yet.

Rasheed’s gaze tangled with hers. Her nerves made a little hum. He studied her with the clear sexual interest she’d come to expect from men. But his expression seemed more thoughtful, more assessing, as if she were a mystery he was trying to solve.

“So what kind of doctor are you?” he asked, his deep voice rumbling in the quiet air.

“A good enough one to know that Henry needs help.”

He glanced at the sleeping doctor, then back to her. “I meant, do you have a specialty?”

“Why? What difference does it make?”

“None at all.”

Averting her gaze, she hugged her knees. She didn’t want to talk to her captor. She didn’t trust this attempt at civility, this sudden desire to act nice. It was probably a good cop, bad cop routine he’d worked out with the other men, a way to make her malleable.

But if there was any chance he’d intercede on Henry’s behalf, it wouldn’t hurt to cooperate—up to a point. “I’m a plastic surgeon.”

His dark brows rose. “Is there a need for that out here?”

“There’s a need for it everywhere people suffer abuse.” She shot him a pointed look. “Men like to inflict pain. Women and children pay the price.”

Rasheed looked away—but not before she caught an emotion stealing through his eyes, a hint of something bleak.

His reaction threw her for a loop. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected—a snarky remark about BOTOX or maybe a shrugged dismissal, reactions she’d experienced often enough. But for a second, Rasheed had looked...haunted, as if she’d triggered a memory that caused him pain.

Was that why he’d become a terrorist? Had he suffered a personal loss, experiencing a pain so devastating that he’d gone rogue, and lashed back at society? He didn’t seem the terrorist type—he treated Henry with a basic kindness that seemed at odds with his violent life. And she should know. She’d seen the real deal—men like her brother with his ingrained cruelty. And try as she might, she couldn’t quite see Rasheed that way.

So maybe he’d started out as a good guy and then gone off the rails. Or maybe he’d been brainwashed into extremism, an idealistic young man searching for meaning who’d fallen victim to a radical ideology.

She didn’t care.
She couldn’t.
This man was a criminal. His life, his past, whatever private suffering he’d endured didn’t matter to her. She had to keep her focus on where it belonged—getting Henry free.

He downed a handful of nuts, then packed up the remaining food. “We’re leaving in a few minutes.”

“Already? We just got here.” She glanced at Henry in alarm. “Can’t we let him rest for a while? He needs to sleep.”

“Sorry.”

“But—”

“We can’t.” His voice rang with finality. He took out a couple of empty water bottles and a packet of purification tablets, and set them on the grass. “Go fill these up in the stream.”

“What? You think I’m your servant now?”

“No, I think you need the water. I’ve got enough for myself. But if you and Henry want to go without...” He got to his feet with a shrug. Then he picked up the saddlebag and strode off.

She opened her mouth to protest. But damned if he wasn’t right. She had to take care of Henry, even if it meant following this man’s orders—for now. Still scowling, she gathered the bottles and rose.

But as she worked her way through the bushes and undergrowth toward the mountain stream, more doubts spun through her mind. She wasn’t prone to illusions. She didn’t indulge in useless fantasies. She was good at reading people—she’d had to be to survive the years she’d spent on the streets. So why did Rasheed seem so different to her? Was it merely wishful thinking? Was it an aftereffect of the kidnapping, a result of the trauma she’d been through? Or was there a chance that she was right, and he actually cared about them?

She didn’t know. And until she was sure, she had to watch her step. Rasheed was smart. She hadn’t misjudged the intelligence in his penetrating black eyes. She couldn’t afford to make a mistake with Henry’s life at stake—not to mention her own.

When she reached the creek, she headed upstream to a spot where the water ran clear and fast. She knelt and filled the bottles, adding the purification tablets to make it safe. That done, she took a minute to wash her hands and face, letting the cold, clean water soothe her nerves.

Behind her, a chinchilla scurried through the grass. Birds twittered in a nearby shrub. The warm breeze rustled the trees, the tranquil scene at odds with the nightmare her life had become. With effort, she shook off a wave of longing—for her team, for the inner peace she’d taken for granted only a day ago. Trying to keep her focus on the present, she collected the bottles and headed back along the path through the trees.

But a man blocked her way.

Amir.

She abruptly came to a stop. Every muscle in her body tensed. She took in his big, beefy hands, the power in his massive arms, the hatred simmering in his narrowed eyes. And she knew with an absolute certainty that he intended to do her harm.

He tossed a saddlebag in the path. “Fill up my water bottles now,” he ordered in Jaziirastani.

A swarm of uneasiness seized her. She did not want to deal with this man. He looked as cruel as her brother, Sultan, a monster who delighted in inflicting pain. And captive or not, she had no intention of being this sadist’s slave. “Forget it.”

He went dead still. “What did you say?”

“I said no, I won’t do it. I’m not going to wait on you.”

His eyes blazed with an odd excitement. He took several quick steps toward her, and adrenaline pumped through her veins. She spun on her heels, and started to run, but he was faster than she’d believed. He grabbed hold of her hair and yanked her backward, sending fiery pain slashing through her scalp. Gasping, she dropped her supplies.

But she didn’t intend to submit. Calling on all her street skills, she whipped around and lunged toward him, ignoring the sharp pain flaying her head. Then she rammed her knee into his groin with all her might. He bellowed with rage and staggered back.

But he was still too fast. His huge fist came out of nowhere, slamming into her face. The force lifted her off her feet, and she crashed to the ground, pain exploding behind her eyes. She let out an anguished cry.

He strode over and kicked her ribs. Agony knifed through her, knocking the breath from her lungs. She curled into a ball and wheezed.

“Leave her alone.”

Her jaw throbbed. The coppery taste of blood filled her mouth. She panted and gasped, trying to inhale around the fire torturing her ribs, and managed to push herself to her knees.

Rasheed now faced Amir. He stood on the path between them, his legs planted wide, his hands balled into fists. Tension rolled off his powerful frame.

“Get out of my way,” Amir told him. “This isn’t your business.”

“The hell it isn’t. I kidnapped this woman. She’s under my protection now.”

“She’s not your prisoner. She belongs to us all. And she can do our work until we’re done with her.”

“Not unless I say so.
I
decide what she can do. And you won’t put a hand on her.”

Amir’s eyes flared. A blade appeared in his hand, and Nadine’s already ragged breath came to a halt.
A knife fight.
She’d witnessed one in Oakland once—and once had been enough.

“You’re challenging me?” Amir’s tone was deadly now.

“I caught her,” Rasheed repeated. “So I control what she does. The man, too. No one touches them or gives them orders except me.”

Amir stared at Rasheed, pure loathing in his eyes. Nadine tried to suppress a shudder, but failed. Rasheed had just made an enemy.

Because of her.

Neither man moved. Testosterone crackled in the air. Fearing the bloodbath that was about to break out, Nadine began to creep backward, not wanting to get caught in the deadly fight.

But then Manzoor’s voice barked out from behind the trees. “Where is everyone? Let’s go!”

Amir’s eyes narrowed. Several heartbeats later, he slid the knife back into its sheath. “We aren’t finished. We’ll deal with the woman later. But be careful, brother. You might not want to close your eyes at night.” He turned on his heel and stalked off.

Nadine didn’t move. She kept her gaze on the bushes, her heart still galloping through her chest, terrified that he’d come back. But then Rasheed turned around and took her arm, and helped her to her feet.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

All right? Her jaw felt cracked. Her ribs burned so badly she could hardly breathe. Even her hair follicles ached. And without warning, tears sprang into her eyes, the horror of the attack beginning to sink in. Mortified by her show of weakness, she hurried to wipe them away.

But Rasheed stepped close and grasped her chin. His eyes stayed grim, but his hands were surprisingly gentle as he turned her head from side to side to inspect her face.

“You’re bleeding.” His voice came out gruff. His thumb stroked her bottom lip, the feathery touch quickening her pulse.

And then his eyes met hers. Her pulse skidded off beat. And for a long moment she gazed into that hypnotic blackness, conscious of his calloused fingers skimming her jaw, the heat radiating from his golden skin, the sheer maleness of him as he towered above her, solid and strong.