He watched as a tall red-haired woman emerged from a nearby tiled walkway. She was dressed in one of the skimpiest outfits he’d ever seen and she was drop-dead gorgeous. She wore a red halter, breasts pushed up, the nipples damn near showing. The tiny red shorts she wore hid just about nothing. Makeup heavy, her hair up on her head, gold bangles in her ears and at least six or seven gold bracelets on one arm, Josh let out a low breath. He snapped several photos of her: full face, quarter face and profile. Grinning to himself, he was sure the agents at Langley would enjoy the eyeful of this woman.
The bald-headed soldier looked up. Yeah, damn right he was giving her a look that spoke volumes. The redhead tossed her chin upward, as if dissing him, turned and swayed like a runway model to the main door of the house and disappeared. Josh remembered that Duarte dealt in sex slavery. Was this one of his slaves? Because she sure as hell couldn’t survive out here in an outfit like that. Now, if he could spot Aly... Would she be dressed similarly? Where were they keeping her? Was there a section where sex slaves were kept? Guarded? So many questions. No answers. Not yet.
Aly slept restlessly in her new room. She’d been removed from the apartment with the three women who serviced Duarte. The windows in her quarters had iron bars over them, though she had opened the shutters to let in the sluggish, humid nighttime air. The only door was locked from the outside. She could not escape.
A hand suddenly clamped over her mouth.
She screamed and fought, eyes wide with terror.
The man who leaned over her held her shoulder down so she couldn’t move and rasped out, “Allison Landon?” His voice held a Texas drawl.
An American! Nostrils wide, breathing in explosive breaths, her eyes slowly acclimated. There was a small night-light in the room, shedding just enough light for her to see him.
Oh, God, he was a soldier! An American soldier! And he was holding his large hand over her mouth so she wouldn’t scream. His eyes were narrowed, his face was painted in dark colors, and he wore a flop-brimmed hat on his head. He was also wearing jungle camos.
“I’m Marine Corps Staff Sergeant Josh Patterson. I’ve come to rescue you. Now, don’t scream. I’m going to lift my hand away.”
Aly sobbed and shot into a sitting position, staring up at the large man. He put his hand to his lips, cautioning her not to speak. He was carrying a rifle on his left shoulder. She saw a huge knife in a sheath on his right calf. In a drop holster low on his thigh sat a pistol. He eased a small ruck off his broad shoulders and set it on the bed.
“Get into these,” he told her quietly, pulling out a dark green T-shirt, black cargo pants, socks and a pair of combat boots. “Hurry!”
Shaken, Aly gave a jerky nod. How had this man gotten in here? She noticed the door was still shut. Somehow, he’d gotten into her room. Oh, God, she was going to be rescued! Climbing off the bed, her knees weak with adrenaline, she grabbed the clothes and hurried to the bathroom down the hall.
Josh looked around, moving like a shadow to the nearest window. The soft scuff of boots on the tiled walkway could barely be heard. It was guard number one walking by her door. He pulled the cover off his watch and read the dials. In ten minutes, guard number two would patrol past her door.
He glanced down the hall, trying not to be emotionally affected by Aly Landon. Even in the grayish darkness of her small room, he’d seen the color of her wide, beautiful eyes. She’d been so frightened when he’d clamped his hand across that mouth of hers. Feeling badly, but knowing it couldn’t be helped, Josh waited impatiently for her to reappear.
She didn’t disappoint him, swiftly moving down the hall. Josh grinned to himself. Aly gave new meaning to that T-shirt of his. He’d brought along a pair of women’s cargo pants and combat boots he’d guessed would fit her. He watched as she quickly wrapped her hair up into a ponytail as she approached him, pleased he’d been so accurate.
Aly reached out, gripping his arm. “Thank you,” she said, her voice quavering as she met his eyes. “You’re risking your life to help me.” Her lower lip quivered and then she closed her fingers more firmly around his lower arm. “I’m so grateful...”
The swelling on her left cheek upset him, along with the large bruise. Anger moved through him. Then he saw bruise marks around her throat. What the hell? What had happened to her?
“Ms. Landon, are you ambulatory?”
His voice was low. Calm. She certainly wasn’t.
“Yes, I can walk.”
“Good. Wear this.” He pulled the last piece of clothing from the small ruck. It was a camo blouse with long sleeves. It would hide her white skin out in the dark jungle, making her less easy to spot. And Josh knew that Duarte, once he found Aly gone, would launch an immediate, all-out hunt to find her. And kill her.
Aly’s hands were shaking as she pulled on the lightweight blouse. She tried to button it.
“Let me,” he growled, pushing her hands aside, quickly buttoning it up.
“I—I’m sorry,” she said, meeting his shadowed eyes. She saw his stoic facade drop for a split second; saw the compassion in his eyes. And then it was gone.
“I’ve located a tunnel nearby. It’s an escape route. I need you to grab my belt here—” he hitched up his shirt to reveal the nylon webbed belt and pointed “—and hold on. Never speak. Don’t make any noise. All right?”
She nodded, her heart starting a hard beat, adrenaline drenching her again. He was so tall, so confident.
He went to the door and looked both ways before gesturing for her to follow him. Once out on the cool, humid walkway, he turned and quietly shut the door. Pointing to the belt, he paused as Aly quickly slid her fingers around it.
Her mouth was dry. Aly was scared to death, wanting desperately to hurry, to escape. Duarte had raged at her yesterday. His gangrenous toes had not improved in the week since she’d started treating him. He’d reached out, grabbed her by the throat and choked her. No one had made a move to stop him as he’d twisted her until she’d fallen across his lap, his black eyes drilling into hers. She hadn’t been able to help herself. Her response had been automatic as she’d tried to pull his hands off her throat as she’d choked and gasped for air.
It was then that Rusak had intervened, grabbing her wrists and squeezing them tightly between his massive, powerful hands. She’d heard Duarte screaming at her in Portuguese, seen her vision graying, unable to breathe as he’d squeezed his fingers deeper into her soft throat. She’d lost consciousness.
Minutes later she’d woken on the cold tile floor, gasping for breath, her throat aching, her wrists throbbing. Rusak had grabbed her and hauled her to her hands and knees in front of the hard-breathing Duarte who’d glared at her. If his feet were not better by tomorrow morning, he’d told her, he would enjoy Rusak raping her in front of him.
They moved quietly down the walk. At a juncture, Aly moved with Patterson, crouched as he was. He had his rifle in his hands, ready to do battle if it became necessary. Her heart was pounding in her sore, aching throat. Tears burned in her eyes. If she didn’t get out of here now, she would be raped in the morning. Oh, God, get us out of here. Please...
Aly had no idea the tunnel existed. The Marine knew where he was going. She never heard him walking so she tried to emulate his gait, making no sound. Her knees wobbled. She felt so scared that she might faint. It wouldn’t be the first time. But now was not the time to have it happen!
Girding herself, Aly felt the Marine grip her arm firmly after opening the tunnel door. He gently guided her into the darkened area. She had no NVGs as he did. Standing, shivering and arms around herself, she waited until he closed the door. He turned and