Seal of Honor(47)

Breathing. Oh, thank God. And his heart beat strongly behind his ribs when she laid her head on his chest. Still, he looked like hell and his bad foot had swelled up, again turning an ugly shade of purple. Was that weakness how they’d managed to take him down?

A shadow fell over her as she hugged Gabe. She glared up at Brown Boots. “Who are you?”

Surprise flicked over his dark features that she spoke Spanish, but he recovered fast and answered a question with a question. “Are you with the EPC?”

“No. They took us hostage.” She looked at Gabe. Anger heated her blood and she felt the flush of it creep up her neck into her cheeks. “Why did you beat him?”

“He killed one of my men,” the leader said without remorse.

“Only because your man tried to kill us. We’re just trying to stay alive and find my brother and get out of this damn country!”

“Your brother?” He sounded extremely interested and Audrey squeezed her eyes shut.

Dammit. Gabe said she shouldn’t have told Cocodrilo about Bryson in the first place, and now she’d gone and made the same mistake with this new group. Someday she’d learn to keep her mouth shut. If it didn’t get her killed first.

“Are you American, then?” he asked with a pronounced English accent. When she said nothing, he added, “Related to the American businessman, Bryson Van Amee?”

Figuring that for a rhetorical question, she stayed silent. So he already knew about Bryson. Wasn’t that just lovely. Maybe the EPC hadn’t taken Bryson at all, and these guys were responsible. Better trained and equipped for it, she had no doubt they had taken hostages before. Had no doubt they’d killed hostages before.

Oh God.

The leader moved away and spoke in low tones to his men. She didn’t hear much of the conversation, except for “the boss will want to see her,” and that sounded ominous so she tuned them out. Turning her attention to Gabe, she found all the blood came from a small cut at his hairline above his right eyebrow. Thank goodness it wasn’t bad. Might not even need stitches, but hopefully he had a hard head, because she really needed him to wake up concussion-free.

The group came to a consensus, and the two men that had been carrying Gabe returned to his side, picked him up by the arms and legs, and carted him away.

“Hey!” she said.

The leader held out a hand to her. “You are coming with us.”

“No.” She shook her head and held her ground. “I’m not going anywhere without…” What should she call Gabe? “Bodyguard” would probably get him shot, and “friend” wasn’t a strong enough relationship to warrant her refusal. She hitched her chin and met the leader’s eyes with a challenge in her own. “Without my husband.”

His brows lifted, disappearing under the fringe of his dark hair. “Indeed. I hate to inform you, I don’t need your consent.”

“It’d make your life easier. If you leave him, I’ll fight you every step.”

“I could coldcock you.”

“Yes, but I won’t stay unconscious forever, and I’ll wake up swinging. Unless”—she put a lot of stress on the word—“Gabe stays with me.”

“Gabe?” he echoed and his entire posture changed, jaw hardened, eyes flashed with hatred so hot she’d have been unsurprised to find Gabe’s unconscious body singed from it.

“Bloody fucking hell.” He whistled to his men, who were about to dump Gabe unceremoniously into the jungle and probably kill him.

“Forget it. He’s coming, too,” he told them in Spanish. “But cuff his hands behind his back in case he wakes and do not take your weapons off him for even an instant.” Then, he held out his hand to Audrey again. “Now, Mrs. Bristow, will you come with us?”

Like she had any other choice. Even though he’d framed it as a question, it was a command at heart.

Audrey ignored his offered hand and stood by herself, fearing she’d jumped out of the pot and into the fire. “You know my…husband?”

Brown Boots gave a clipped nod and looked toward the sky as a helicopter flew overhead.

Help? Audrey wondered and followed his gaze. She couldn’t tell, but friend or foe, there was no way for the people in that chopper to see them through the dense treetops.

Brown Boots motioned his men to get moving then turned back to her. “I’d say it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, but that’ll just bugger things up when I make you a widow.” He gave her a shove forward. “So shut up and walk.”

…

“Looks like we’re too late,” Jean-Luc muttered and used the toe of his boot to nudge the still-warm body of a kid who’d had his throat slit ear-to-ear. He gazed up at Quinn, looking a little green, much like he had after Gabe fetched him, hungover, from the bayou. “Looks like someone not so nice got here first.”