Hostage to Love (Entangled Suspense) (4 page)

If Charles Mwana decided to keep her—all of them—here indefinitely, chances were they would never be found.

Belle couldn’t let that happen. Father Tom, for one, despite having lived in and served in harsh environments like these, would never make it.

“Or perhaps everything you say about wanting to help my people is a lie. In which case, you’re of no use to me.” With a careless shrug, he turned away again.

“Stop!” She swallowed hard, her insides churning with terror. She’d seen the way he watched her. And she wasn’t naïve enough to think the offer to take his bed was a completely altruistic one born out of the need to keep her safe. “I’ll stay for a while and help you with whatever you need help with. But I’ll do it on one condition.” She balled her fists to stop their shaking. “You let the others go.”

He gave a soft laugh. “Just like a Westerner. Even in a hopeless predicament, you think you can throw about ultimatums. But I’m tempted by your offer.” His gaze dropped to her lips, his gaze darkening when it rose to capture hers. “Very tempted.”

His face relaxed, and his lips curled into a smug smile of satisfaction. Reaching out, he traced a rough knuckle down her cheek. A bubble of terror grew deep inside her at the anticipatory gleam in his eyes.

“You caught and held my attention from the first moment I saw you. In another time, another place, this would’ve gone down differently, but destiny has placed us here, so this is how it has to be, you understand?” he murmured softly.

She didn’t, not really, but she nodded anyway, as she slid down the slippery slope toward hopeless despair. A sudden thought teased her brain, and she grasped it with both hands. Would her condition buy her time? What if it backfired? It would be a calculated risk, but it might just pay off. She took a deep breath.

“Th…there’s something you should know.”

His smile disappeared, replaced once again by a deadly stare. “What is it?”

“It— It’s my time of the m-month.”

Incomprehension clouded his face.

She felt her face redden. “My period. I started my period last night,” she stated baldly.

When she’d felt the familiar cramping just after they started their nightly trek yesterday, she’d inwardly raged at Mother Nature for compounding her predicament with yet another situation she was unprepared for. The handkerchief-sized scarf she’d worn to protect her head from the fierce sun saved her from total humiliation. Now she gladly welcomed the cramps and discomfort. It might just save her from the rebel leader’s repulsive attentions.

Ancient Nawakan tradition prohibited men from touching women during their monthly cycle. From their conversation this afternoon, it seemed Mwana had assimilated every aspect of being a Nawakan. Dared she hope he had adopted all of its traditions as well? She mentally crossed desperate fingers, almost afraid to blink as his expression darkened.

He captured her chin in his hands, proving that he didn’t believe in the
no-touching
rule at the very least. “I hope you’re not trying to play me for a fool, Belle.”

She stopped breathing. “I-I’m not. I promise.” She deliberately softened her voice and relaxed her body.

For an eternity he stared at her. Finally, he said, “I could ask you to prove what you’ve just told me, yet I am choosing to believe you. But understand this. Break my trust, and things will not end well for you.”

Relief swept through her. “I understand.”

His gaze dropped to her lips once more. Belle tugged her chin away and spoke before he could put the clear intention in his eyes to action. “What about releasing my colleagues?”

“The ransom demand has already been set in motion with the Dutch couple’s family. I will make my decision about the priest in the morning. As for you, if you’re being truthful about your reasons for coming to Nawaka, about your respect for my country and my people, then you will be given a chance to prove it.”

A scream rose in her throat. She quashed it. She would not break down, would not give him the satisfaction. She almost laughed at the twisted irony of her thought.

Heart hammering, she folded her arms to hide their trembling. “I meant every word.”

For several heartbeats he regarded her, then took another step back.

“Good. You’ve bought yourself a few days’ respite with your colleagues.” His gaze drifted to the bed. “I’ll ask you to make good on your promises before long, so rest while you can.” With that, he turned on his heel and left the cave.

Shaking with relief and a letdown of adrenaline, she sank to the rough ground, her breath coming in ragged heaves as silent, grateful tears filled her eyes.

She was in the same position an hour later, staring unseeingly into the gloom, when he returned, followed by two soldiers who marched Edda, Hendrik, and Father Tom into the cave.

One look at her face, and Edda burst into hopeless tears.

…

T
WENTY-FOUR HOURS LATER

Belle stared at the chessboard in front of her, fighting to keep terror from taking over.

“Your move,” Mwana said, his tone as cordial as it had been since his return to the cave with the other captives yesterday.

Since then, Mwana had treated them more like roughly housed guests than captives, but a knife-sharp instinct warned her it was all a carefully balanced act that rested solely on
her
cooperation. Cooperation that had included being separated from the others and accommodated in yet another hollowed-out space in the dark cave.

And chess games like this one, interspersed with long, endless conversation.

At his raised eyebrow, she moved her bishop.

His brow rose higher. “A curious move. If you hadn’t won two out of our last six games, I’d think you were in a hurry to sacrifice this game.”

Her fist clenched. “Sometimes sacrifices have to be made for the greater good. I believe that’s one of your tenets.”

His very genuine smile lightened his usually flat eyes. “I’m flattered you’ve been paying attention to my ramblings, Belle.”

“Of course I paid attention. I told you, Nawaka is a special place to me. And your plans for it— I find them…interesting.”
Horrific
was a more accurate term. In the last day he’d off-handedly named several prominent,
unworthy
government members he planned to get rid of in order to secure his rise to power. That he’d chosen to share such information with her made fear pound through her heart with every breath.

In one smooth move, he took her bishop and brought the game one step closer to completion. She hid her relief.

“So you agree with me that Nawakans need to control their destiny and choose their path wisely, even if it means a quantitative sacrifice of a few?”

“I agree with Nawakans choosing their destiny, but perhaps the sacrifice you speak of isn’t necessary.”

He shook his head. “Our oppressors must be dealt with in such a way that neither they nor their descendants will ever be in a position to sully Nawaka’s sacred heritage.”

Belle’s swallowed carefully around the need to scream.

Her skin tingled unpleasantly with the knowledge that this monster was waiting for her agreement, for her
approval
.

“I can’t really speak to that. I think the Nawaka I’ve come to know is special the way it is.”

He leaned forward and ran one finger down her cheek. She locked her muscles in an effort not to recoil.

“If you really think that, then I look forward to showing you Nawaka’s true potential once I am in power.”

“When— When do you intend all this to happen?”

He sat back with a satisfied smile. “Soon. I have a few more maneuvers to perform first.” His focus shifted from the board to her face. “Although some of them will be achieved sooner than I thought. You love Nawaka as much as I do, don’t you?”

The warmth and caring of the people she’d come to know before she was captured rose to her mind. Some of them were people Mwana planned to slaughter. “Yes, I do.” Her voice shook.

“Good, Belle, very good. We can achieve incredible things together, you and I. I was worried that your marriage would prove a hindrance, but since that is no longer an issue…” He laughed and shook his head. “I’m getting ahead of myself. Unexpectedly, we have more time now. That is enough for me.”

Ice numbed her from head to toe as he continued. “The last pieces of the game are almost in place for the final battle.” He smiled with chilling relish. “And we will be victorious, Belle. I count on it. Another game?” He indicated the chessboard. “I might even consider letting you win again.”

She shook her head. “No. Would you mind if I went to bed?”

His disappointment gave way to a smile a moment later, his expression turning hungry as hooded eyes raked over her. “Of course not.” He held out his hand. Unable to refuse without incurring offense, she let him help her up.

Silently she walked beside him to the cavern adjoining his and stopped several feet from the makeshift bed. A quick glance at his face showed a deepened hunger that made her heart slam against her ribs in sick apprehension.

“I look forward to the day when I will join you on that bed, Belle.”

The sound she made in her throat was unintelligible. But he smiled as if he understood, bid her goodnight, and left.

She sank onto the bed, her breath coming out in gulping pants. With every strange sound her nerves frayed more. With every second that passed, she slid closer to black despair because she could no longer hide from the knowledge that Charles Mwana very much wanted to keep her as his personal prize…indefinitely.

…

1:34 A.M. THE SAME NIGHT

Nick’s teeth jarred as the second-hand jeep struck yet another ditch in the severely potholed dirt road that led into the rebels’ territory.

A whole day had passed since they’d landed in this godforsaken place.

A day wasted while several appropriate hands had been greased in an attempt to ascertain the most up-to-date information on the whereabouts of Belle and the other three hostages.

So far all they’d managed to find out was that the rebel leader and his men were holed up in the jungle near the Congo-Nawakan border, waiting for
Theos
knew what.

Nick suppressed the dread rising inside him and forced himself to focus. Beside him, Alex braced his hand against the dashboard as the jeep bounced again.

Like him, his cousin had done three tours in Afghanistan and Iraq. Having Alex by his side eased his gut’s churning. Not by a whole lot, but…it helped.

His com crackled through his earpiece. Gritting his teeth, he listened as Allen spoke to his men over the radio.

“We’re approaching the coordinates, gentlemen. Time to ditch these babies and head in on foot. We don’t want any surprises. And remember—radio silence in T-minus five. Allen out.”

They located a wide, shallow ditch and hid the jeeps, covering them with tarpaulins and large branches from a mahogany tree.

At Allen’s low, terse command, they melted into the jungle. Nick stayed abreast with Alex, his senses sharpening and heightening as covert skills he’d presumed dormant swiftly rose to the fore. Adrenaline flooded his veins and coated his mouth. His gaze swept and tracked their immediate surroundings for any potential threat. Relief followed swiftly, and his grip tightened on his assault rifle.

His training hadn’t completely deserted him.

The smell of damp earth and rotting vegetation attacked his nostrils. Hanging leaves from low branches whipped at his face, but he ignored their sting, his focus locked dead ahead as they moved at a crouched trot deeper into the jungle.

After almost an hour, they stopped and spread out. Nick indicated for Alex to stay with him as the other men headed off in a semi-circle, donning their night-vision goggles and melting into the trees.

After adjusting his, he moved forward, stopping several moments later. A dozen yards ahead, two figures stood to one side of what looked like a small clearing. Outlined in shadowy green silhouette, one of them lifted a hand every few seconds to his lips. At the intermittent glow flaring from the soldier’s hand, Nick realized one of the rebels was having a cigarette break. Good. Their guard was down.

Crouching low, he trained his gun on the soldier and sighted him in his scope. A quick sideways glance and Alex nodded at his signal. They fired almost simultaneously, their silencers barely causing a sound in the night air as the two rebel soldiers crumpled to their deaths.

Two of Allen’s men materialized from the gloom and tugged the bodies out of view several feet into the bushes.

Sweat broke out on Nick’s brow. Two down. The problem was, the rest of the rebels were inside the cave. And at this time of the night, even if half of them were asleep, Nick’s band of mercenaries would in all likelihood be outnumbered.

Taking steady breaths, he crept closer to the clearing, Alex beside him, their guns poised and steady at shoulder level. In near-complete silence, one man extracted a minute video camera mounted on the end of a flexible fiber-optic cable. He fed it through a small fissure, while another man observed the feedback on a small screen.

After a few minutes, the men moved back and communicated their findings through hand signals.

Nick held his breath as Allen spoke. “We have a total of sixteen bodies inside, five up and moving around. Most of them are grouped at the front. I’m guessing those are the soldiers. Three are isolated in the far corner, and I think those are the hostages. There are lights in there, so we won’t need these,” he said, indicating the night vision goggles.

They split into two groups, advancing cautiously toward the entrance of the cave. Nick clenched his jaw to stem the fear and adrenaline. Not fear for himself, but for her. His wayward wife.

“Easy now. We’re almost there,” Alex whispered and clasped his shoulder in brief reassurance.

Nick nodded, exhaled in a slow breath, and rapped lightly on the wooden barrier with his gun.

There was a gruff response from within. Beside him, Allen answered with the guttural broken French Nick had heard the locals use.