Under the Wire (14 page)

"In a not so distant former life," Darcy explained with a smile, "I worked as vice-consul for the U.S. Embassy— most recently in Manila."

Darcy exchanged a meaningful glance with Ethan before going on. "Old habit. I still keep abreast of political issues in this part of the world. And I know all too well how these struggling democracies work—or don't work, as the case may be. Plus we pulled everything we could find on Sri Lanka off the Net before leaving West Palm and we all read the material at least twice on the flight."

"Slow down." Dallas glanced around the bustling Colombo street. "We should be getting close."

Some of the vendors were preparing to close up shop for the day, but many still hawked products ranging from fruits, to vegetables, to fish, to sarongs—anything imaginable—from open-fronted stands lining the streets. Some sold out of two-wheel carts running single file down the middle of the stationary stalls.

The locals wore everything from the traditional saris and sarongs in blazing white, to rich, jewel-toned colors, to Western dress or a combination of both. Ox- and donkey-drawn carts competed for parking with hundreds of vehicles. Jeeps, Cadillacs, VWs, and even one old pickup that might have rolled off an assembly line in the early sixties lined the curbs.

Lily understood why Sri Lanka was a tourist's dream and an increasingly popular vacation spot for both Europeans and Americans. Colombo was exotic, vital, and a charming mix of old world and new. The scent of fruits and fish and suntan lotion and bug spray bled in through the Suburban's open window as they made their way slowly through the glut of color and culture.

Another time, another life, she might have enjoyed, even relished, exploring the markets and bazaars. The richness of it. The romance. The thrill of discovery.

But there was no romance in abduction. No richness in fear. And there was no thrill in knowing that the man with whom she'd once shared lazy nights of love and laughter now regarded her with a wariness and trust reserved for pit vipers.

"There—that's it." Dallas's voice broke into her thoughts. "Pull over in front of that print shop. We'll see if my sources came through."

Manny double-parked and Dallas rolled out of the backseat. "Sit tight." He slapped a hand on the roof of the vehicle, then, dodging traffic, jogged across the street.

Lily watched as Dallas ducked inside a small shop. Inside the Suburban all was quiet. No one said a word— yet Lily got the feeling that to a person they all knew what Dallas was after, all but her.

The tension heightened to bowstring tautness. Perspiration trickled down her back as they waited, all of them sticky hot, all of them tense.

"What's he doing?" she asked when she couldn't stand it any longer.

Manny glanced over his shoulder at Ethan, who gave him a go-ahead nod.

"Making a deal." Manny propped his elbow on the open window frame, flexed his fingers on the steering wheel, and stared straight ahead. "If we're lucky."

A deal. There was only one commodity Lily could think of that required sources and deals. Weapons.

Both relief and panic hit her full bore. Relief that they weren't going after her baby without an arsenal. Panic that the illusion she'd secretly harbored of finding Adam and bringing him home without a deadly confrontation had just been shattered.

These men—these warriors who had fought for freedom, fought for peace—harbored no such delusions.
 
Her child was in grave danger. And everyone who went after him was in danger, too.

Same time, somewhere in the mountainous Badulla district, UVA Province, Sri Lanka

"Do you have any idea where we are?" Adam whispered. He didn't want to attract the attention of the armed guard who watched over them at the entrance of the cave.

Minrada lowered her head to her knees, where her bound wrists rested. She turned her head, blinked at Adam through the long curtain of thick black hair that fell over her eyes. "Still in the mountains. But south maybe. UVA Province? I'm not sure. It is cool. It is dry." Looking weary to the bone, she gave her head a slight shake. "Other than that, I do not know. There are caves all over in this area."

Adam could barely make out Minrada's features in the darkness. The cave was bone cold and midnight black. They'd been moved here from someplace outside of Kandy during the night. Bound and gagged, they'd been thrown into a rusty pickup, ordered to lie down, and covered with a filthy tarp. He didn't know how many kilometers they'd bounced along, their faces grinding into the rusted metal of the truck bed. The air had been thick with dust and sweat and the shift and grind of gears.

Beside them in the cave, Minrada's parents slept. Both were exhausted. Sathi was frightened and Amithnal held her, comforting her. Shit, they were
all
scared. Although, to look at her, you'd never know Minrada was a captive of this group of twenty men who were as short on explanations as they were on food and water. She was cool, composed, and utterly calm. Adam had never known anyone so brave.

And he'd never felt so useless. The assholes who attacked them had come out of nowhere. They wore Tamil Tiger uniforms, Minrada had whispered when she and Adam were hauled into the truck. One minute the four
of them—Adam, Minrada, Sathi, and Amithnal—were listening to the constant chatter of birds and admiring a temple ruin; the next, a dozen men with semiautomatic weapons, their faces covered with black scarves, surrounded them.

He should have fought them. No matter how many times Minrada had assured him no good would have come from it, Adam knew he should have fought.

And he
would
fight them. When the time was right. But now, he had to wait. His ass was asleep. The rock was cold and hard as steel beneath him. He had to bite his tongue to keep from bitching and moaning like a baby—probably would have done plenty of both if it hadn't been for Minrada. He'd thought he was tough. She'd taught him a thing or two about the word.

He'd never met anyone like her. She was twenty. Soft and curvy and only four years older than he was—and yet she had what his mom would refer to as an old soul. Old and strong and beautiful. Nothing like the girls he knew back home who were all about makeup and hair and stupid things. Baby things.

Minrada was . .. amazing.

"It's a pretty name," he'd told her one day when they'd been working side by side painting a classroom in a newly reclaimed grade school in Matara. "What does it mean?"

"My mother says it means 'she who gives wisdom and love.'"

"It fits you." It had taken Adam a long time to screw up the courage to say so.

When she'd smiled for him, he'd gone weak in the knees. No shit. He'd felt all rubbery and faint—
him
— and his face had burned hot. Probably turned as red as a ripe melon, too. He hadn't been able to speak to her again for a full day. What a dweeb.

He glanced toward the mouth of the cave. Studied the black silhouette of the soldier guarding the door. Kidnapped. Shit. He'd come to Sri Lanka for the adventure. For the experience. Because it was a cool thing to do. And yeah, because after reading about the tsunami victims, he'd wanted to help. But then he'd met Minrada. And in addition to the adventure, he'd fallen in love. With her soft black eyes. With the dark, inky silk of her hair. The warmth of her smile and the amazing generosity of her heart.

She was a woman. Until her, all he'd known was girls.

He let his head drop back against the cave's wall, let his eyes drift shut. When they got out of this—
if
they got out of this—he was going to tell her.

He was going to look into eyes as soft as a summer night, as dark as a deep mountain spring, and he was going to tell her he loved her.

Damn. And how was it that the thought of confessing his feelings to this woman scared him more than facing another night in the hands of hard men with big guns who were just looking for a reason to blow him to pieces?

"I pray that your saint is protecting us," Minrada whispered.

Adam let out a long breath, thought of the silver medal his mother had placed over his head before he'd boarded his flight.

"What's this?" He studied the medallion, then searched her face, trying not to be embarrassed that his mom was about to cry in the middle of a crowded airport terminal.

"St. Christopher. Patron saint of travelers."

He had to grin. "Mom... we're not Catholic," he pointed out gently.

And that made her grin, too, thank God, because things were getting real close to watery.

"Humor me. Wear it anyway. It's like the one your father wore. It's important to me that you have it. Especially now."

"Fine. Don't get all blubbery about it," he said, refusing to admit, even to himself, that he felt a little burn behind his eyelids, too.

"Adam?"

Minrada's soft voice filtered out of the darkness and brought him back to the bleak, hard darkness of the cave.

"Yeah," he said, just as softly so as not to rouse the guard's attention. "I hope the medal works, too."

He lifted his bound hands, touched the medal. Thought of his mom. Thought of his father. Wished he'd known him. Wished he knew more about him.

"I spy something . . . black," Minrada's voice whispered across the cold stone walls.

Despite the trouble they were in, he smiled. They played the old standard children's game often while they worked side by side at the school in the sweltering heat in Matara. It passed time while they painted or repaired plaster or cleaned. It was silly. It made them laugh.

She spied something black, all right.

"Everything," he whispered back, and hoped she heard the smile in his voice.

"Excellent. You win an all-expense-paid trip to anywhere but here."

Again he grinned, then sobered abruptly when the guard stood at attention and two additional silhouettes filled the opening of the cave.

What now?
Adam wondered as his heart stumbled. Someone struck a match, and a flare of a torch lit the dank cavern and temporarily blinded him.

"You, come," one of their captors said in Tamil.

Shit,
Adam thought, and dutifully started to rise. A boot in his chest knocked him back to the floor. He cracked his elbow hard on the cave floor and bit back a cry as pain exploded and nausea rolled through his belly. When the guard reached for Minrada and dragged her to her feet, Adam forgot all about the pain.

"Leave her alone!" He struggled to his feet again. "Take me."

The butt end of a rifle slammed into his midsection. It doubled him over, sent him tumbling to the ground. A bell rang in his head when he hit the cave floor. Stars floated like trailing rockets through his vision. And then nothing.

Nothing but black and more nothing and pain.

CHAPTER 10

Colombo

"Well, you tried. It was worth a shot," Manny said an hour later.

Dallas had made his connection at the print shop and scheduled a time and place for an exchange of cash for guns. Since then they'd met with Emory, Adam's student adviser—who was as panicked as Lily and had nothing new to report. They exchanged phone numbers with promises to update each other with any news, then moved on to the U.S. Embassy, where they were now.

"I expected more," Darcy grumbled as she climbed into the Suburban and Ethan shut the door behind her. Because of her embassy connections, Darcy had been granted an after-hours consultation. That's as far as the favor had been extended.

Manny tried not to focus on or be moved by the disappointment and anxiety tightening Lily's face as he checked for oncoming traffic, then pulled out onto the street. A plea to the embassy for help had been a long shot; the thumbs-down had been all but a foregone conclusion. But they'd had to try.