TRAPPED (12 page)

And there was a bed, stripped bare of any blankets or sheets, but they appeared to be in the plastic container that sat on the bed. There were two other clear plastic containers on the floor and they contained dishes and silverware and pots and pans.

“The water that is inside is safe to drink and to wash in. There are towels in with the sheets.”

Elle figured that was the nicest way Leo could say,
Hey, you two could benefit from a bath.
She could easily get past the gentle criticism.

“I’d suggest that you don’t use the fireplace. No need to attract attention to this location. I brought a few things that don’t require cooking.” Leo opened his backpack and pulled out wrapped cheese, some mangoes and bananas, and a jar of peanut butter.

Elle smiled when she saw that. Leo had been having peanut butter shipped to him for years.

Her friend caught her eye and tipped the jar in her direction. “Brody bought some bread in the village. You won’t starve,” Leo said. “There’s some wine, too.” He pulled out a glass bottle with a cork stopper. “Although I suspect you’re more in the mood for water.”

“How long will we need to stay here?” Brody asked.

“Tomorrow morning I’ll report the location of the wreckage. At the same time, I’ll arrange for a flight out of the country. You won’t be able to go commercial. If Jamas knows you’re alive, and we have to assume he does, he surely has connections that will allow him to monitor airline-ticket purchases. I know a few pilots that I trust. It’s a matter of getting in contact with them and seeing who is willing and available to help. I’ll try to be back by noon with a plan. The faster we can get you out of Brazil, the better.”

Brody stepped forward. “Leo, I don’t think we can thank you enough.”

Leo waved his hand. “Elle would do it for me. I suggest you stay inside as much as possible over the next eighteen hours. Eat, rest, replenish your fluids. That’s your job.”

Elle kissed her friend on the cheek. “Thank you. You are literally saving our lives.”

“Happy to do it. I’ll be happier, however, when you’re safely away from here. Jamas will be relentless in his search to find you.”

“Who knows about this place?” Brody asked.

Leo shrugged. “I don’t make a habit of telling too many people about it. However, the jungle is not nearly as isolated as many think. Even if you never see them, there are many natives. They watch and listen and see and know more than you might think. I’ve never been bothered by them because I’m pretty well-known in this area for my work in developing safe water systems. There’s no lock on the door, but no one has ever taken the few things that I keep here.”

It made her feel a bit like a goldfish in a glass bowl to think that there might be people outside the small hut. Watching. Waiting.

It was as if Brody was reading her mind when he asked, “How will they know that we’re not intruders, that we have your permission to be here?”

Leo smiled. “I imagine several of the natives saw us on our journey here. I know, we didn’t see them but trust me, they were there. Word will pass that I led you here.” He pushed open the narrow door. “Good night. Don’t worry.”

Brody moved quickly, catching Leo before the door could shut. “One more thing, Leo,” he said.

“Of course.”

It was subtle but Elle was pretty sure that Brody used his body to edge Leo out the door. Whatever it was that Brody wanted to tell Leo, he didn’t want Elle to hear. Which under normal circumstances might make her curious or even mildly irritated, but quite frankly, she was so tired and so emotionally exhausted that she didn’t really care.

Whatever it was, it didn’t take long because Brody was back inside the hut in just a few minutes. “Sorry,” he said, “I was hedging our bets.”

“Huh?”

He smiled. “I’ll tell you later. I think he’s a good man. I’m glad you have friends like that, Elle.”

She nodded. “While I haven’t known him as long, he’s sort of my Ethan and Mack. Someone I trust implicitly. Someone I can count on.”

Brody nodded. “There have been times in the last twenty years, when Ethan, Mack and I were all in different corners of the world, that we wouldn’t see each other or even talk for months at a time. But that never mattered. We knew that we were still there for each other. No matter what.”

“What would they say now if they could see you?” Elle asked.

Brody smiled. “Probably something like,
Hey, you smell. Hit the shower.
”

Elle walked over and opened the plastic tote that was sitting on the end of the bed. There were sheets, a thin blanket, two towels, two washcloths, as well as a bar of soap. “I’m grateful for everything—the food, the shelter, the water. But I’m really grateful for the soap. I feel as if the bug spray is three layers deep on me.”

“Go ahead and get cleaned up. I can wait outside.”

Elle shook her head. Maybe it was Leo’s comment about the natives hearing and seeing everything, but she was suddenly very nervous about either one of them being outside. They would ultimately have to go out to take care of basic hygiene needs, but that should be the limit.

“We both want to clean up. We’re adults, Brody. You turn your back, I’ll turn mine.”

He didn’t say anything. Just calmly walked over to the water tanks, picked up a bucket and filled it half-f. Then he repeated the actions with a second bucket. He brought her one of the buckets and set it down at her feet. In return, she handed him a washcloth and towel. He took it without a word and returned to the other side of the room.

He pivoted on his feet so that his back was toward her. Then he started to take off his shirt.

And she watched.

He finished with his buttons and slipped the shirt off one shoulder, then the other. His back was still smooth, still tan, still masculine with finely sculpted muscle. He did have a heck of a bruise, however. It was various shades of purple, and she realized that he’d probably gotten it when the plane had crashed and the ceiling had fallen in on him.

He’d never said anything, never complained.

He unzipped his pants, started to pull them down.

Gracious,
as Mrs. Hardy was prone to saying.

She turned, almost kicking over her bucket of water in the process. What the heck was wrong with her? They were dirty. They needed to wash. It was a simple human need.

The problem was, she was struggling with a much more complex human need. Ever since Brody had kissed her, she’d been imagining what it would be like if it was something more. Ever since she’d felt his erection, so tight, so perfect, she had been wanting him with a vengeance.

But she wasn’t going to do one thing about it. She and Brody had had their day a long time ago. It had been a one-act play and the theater had been closed for a lot of years.

She unbuttoned her own shirt and let it drop to the floor. Then she pulled off the cami with its built-in bra. The cotton material was practically sticking to her skin. She stood naked to the waist, happy to let the warm air inside the hut wash across her bare skin. She dipped her cloth into the water, scrubbed some soap across it, and wiped down her arms, her breasts, her stomach.

She heard two soft thuds and a swoosh and figured that Brody had kicked off his boots and stepped out of his pants. Was he totally naked?

She wanted to look. She desperately wanted to peek, to take a memory of his body back with her.

Her hands were shaking and the hut seemed warmer. She unbuttoned her pants, pulled down the zipper, stepped out of them. She pulled her bright blue panties down, too. She dipped her cloth in the water and soaped it up again.

And realized that Brody didn’t have any soap. There had only been one bar.

“There’s soap,” she said. “I can share.”

Chapter Twelve

“Okay,” he said, his voice sounding rusty.

She started to turn, only to stop quickly. No looking, she told herself. She again faced the wall. And took three steps back. With each step, she could feel her body responding to Brody’s naked nearness. Her skin felt more sensitive, the fine hair on her arms felt alive.

She reached her right arm back. She was holding the soap in a death grip. “Here,” she said.

He reached back and brushed the back of his hand across her bare buttock.

She sucked in a breath.

Neither of them moved. She couldn’t even breathe.

Until finally she felt the faint stirring of air as Brody moved his body. His hand connected with hers. She released her fingers, letting the soap shift to his hand.

She heard the soap hit the floor. Brody still had her hand. He was turning her, pulling her close.

“Brody?” she whispered, her eyes on his handsome face.

His gaze was steady. “A lot of years have gone by, Elle. I don’t see much sense in wasting another day.”

And then he bent his head, pulled her tight into his wet, naked body and kissed her.

For a very long time.

Making her forget that she was in the middle of a South American jungle. Making her forget all about T. K. Jamas. Making her forget everything except the fact that she loved kissing Brody Donovan.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and settled in.

She felt his desire. So hard. So needy.

She felt alive.

“Brody?” she said, her voice soft.

“Yes, Elle.”

“I’m glad there was only one bar of soap.”

“I’ll never look at soap the same way again,” Brody agreed. He took a step back, separating their bodies.

He stared at her, his eyes lingering on her breasts, her hips, her legs. “You’re beautiful,” he said.

“I’m thirty-four,” Elle protested. “I don’t have the body of a twenty-one-year-old cocktail waitress anymore.”

“It’s even more amazing now,” Brody said. He reached for the cloth that Elle held in her hand. “Let me,” he said. Then he dipped the cloth in the water and gently ran it down the length of Elle’s right arm. Then he bent his head and kissed the soft skin inside her elbow.

She drew in a deep breath. Held it.

He repeated the action with her left arm, spending time gently massaging her hand. Then it was a kiss on each finger.

He dipped the cloth again and this time he started at the collarbone and worked his way down the gentle slope of her right breast, using the cloth to softly rub the pink nipple.

“Ohhh.” Elle sighed.

He licked the spot his cloth had just cleaned. Used his tongue to pull her nipple inside his mouth, to suck on it.

“Brody,” she said, her voice sounding thin.

“Don’t hurry me, Elle,” he said softly. “I intend to take my time.”

And he did. He washed her with long strokes, followed by quick licks and soft kisses. Her ribs. Her stomach. Her legs. Her feet.

“Spread your legs,” he said, kneeling in front of her.

He cleaned her and then tasted her.

She squirmed and he held her tight.

“Oh, my,” she said. And minutes later, when her first orgasm hit hard, she knew she would have fallen if he’d not had a good hold. When it was over, she bent her knees and he let her sink down onto the floor, boneless, satisfied.

He sat down next to her and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. “Okay?” he asked.

“That was amazing,” she said. “I can’t breathe,” she added.

“Yes, you can. You’re talking. That means you’re breathing.”

She let her head loll against his shoulder. “Just because you’re a doctor doesn’t mean you know everything.”

“I know what I’m going to be doing for the next hour,” he said.

She lifted her head. “And what’s that?” she asked, her tone teasing.

“I’ll tell you what. You make the bed while I finish getting cleaned up, now that I’ve got some soap. And then I’ll show you.”

She smiled. “Making the bed in normal situations might be a real mood killer, but I think I’d do most anything for a real bed right now.”

He helped her stand up and, in the process, let his body slide against her, let her feel how much he wanted her.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him even closer. “Make it fast,” she whispered.

“Don’t you worry, darling. Just get those sheets on.”

* * *

E
LLE
V
OLLMAN
HAD
always been a wonderful lover. Imaginative. Demanding. Tender. Playful. And when she stretched her slim body out next to his, he felt an almost overpowering need. He wanted to be inside her, to know the great joy of having her come apart in his arms.

“Nice job with the sheets,” he said.

They were simple cotton, wrinkled from having been folded tight in the plastic container, but they were clean and felt heavenly. “I’m never leaving this bed,” she said.

“Sounds good to me,” he replied, smiling. The real world seemed very far away.

“Brody,” she said.

“Yes.”

“Make love to me.”

And he did. And it was everything he remembered and more. A myriad of contradictions. Hard kisses and soft touches. Hot skin and cool sheets. Yielding muscle and driving force.

When he was inside her, seated deep, she wrapped her legs around him and rocked up. He hissed through his teeth. She did it again and again until he shifted and his strokes became long and sure.

And he felt her need spike. She exploded around him and he threw back his head and poured himself into her.

* * *

H
E
LAY
ON
his side, one arm under Elle’s head, the other stroking her naked body. She was on her back, her eyes closed.

The sex had been amazingly good. Perfect.

But now they needed to talk. “I suppose it’s a little late to ask,” he said, “but are you on any birth control?”

She didn’t open her eyes. She did, however, shake her head.

Well, okay. He waited, to see if she would initiate more conversation. She had a child. She had taken deliberate and specific action to be a parent to Mia. That had to mean that she was open to the idea of children.

What would it mean if Elle was pregnant with his child?

He would want to marry her. For sure. But was he destined to repeat his mistakes of thirteen years before? Would she leave him again?

His stomach was rolling and it had nothing to do with being hungry. He was borrowing trouble. There was no reason to believe that Elle was pregnant from one hugely fantastic bout of sex. People had sex all the time without conceiving.

He was going to stop worrying about it. And he was going to stop thinking about whether it meant as much to Elle as it had meant to him.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, determined that he could steer the conversation into some normalcy.

Now she opened her eyes. “A little.”

He got out of bed and pulled on clean shorts from his bag. He cut slices of cheese and bread and mango, put them on a plastic plate that he found in one of the bins and brought it over to the bed. Then he filled their empty water bottles with water from the dispenser and brought those, as well as the bottle of wine, back to the bed.

She was sitting up, with the faded cotton sheet pulled up almost to her neck. Her cheeks were pink and the worry that had been ever present in her eyes for the past three days was gone.

“A feast,” she said, smiling.

“I never thought I’d look so fondly upon a mango,” Brody agreed.

“When I get back to the States, I’m going to have a bacon cheeseburger. And fries. Lot of fries,” Elle added.

That sounded good. “I’m going for the desserts,” he said. “Chocolate cake. Maybe cherry pie with vanilla ice cream.”

She frowned at him. “And you, a respected member of the medical community,” she said, her tone deliberately shocked. “Have you seen the latest research on saturated fats?”

He shrugged and helped himself to a piece of cheese. “I don’t care. After I have dessert, I’m going to have a steak with a baked potato and lots of sour cream.”

“Now you’re talking,” she said, layering cheese and mango on her slice of bread.

They ate in silence for several minutes. After Elle drank her entire bottle of water, she picked up the wine bottle. “Cheers,” she said. She uncorked the wine, drank and passed the bottle to him. He took a sip. It made the back corners of his mouth tighten up in response.

“This tastes remarkably similar to something that Ethan, Mack and I made in college with a bottle of grain alcohol and blackberry brandy.”

She smiled. “You’ll certainly have a story to tell your friends when you get back to the States. You mentioned that they’re both getting married soon, right? You’ll go to the weddings?”

“Yes, it’s a double wedding at the McCann cabin. Mack and Hope were initially reluctant to go along with Chandler’s suggestion because they didn’t want to horn in on her big day, but she was insistent. Said that nothing would make her happier than sharing a wedding day with her brother.”

“I’m sure it’ll be wonderful,” Elle said. “Have you, Mack and Ethan seen much of each other in the last couple of years?”

“We’d go for long stretches of time without seeing each other but always kept in contact with texts and phone calls. Ethan was in the army, Mack in the navy and I just retired from the air force.”

Her eyes widened and she sat up straighter. The sheet slipped and he worked hard to keep his gaze eye level.

“I never pictured you in the air force,” she said.

“After my residency, I worked in Boston for a couple years but I was restless. I thought about going back to Colorado, but I decided that I’d try something very different.” How could he tell her that he’d always dreamed that they’d go back to Colorado together, that he simply hadn’t been able to make the trip without her?

Some things were probably better left unsaid.

“I enlisted and have had several deployments to Iraq and Afghanistan during the last eight years. Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on your perspective and which end of the scalpel you’re at, war presents opportunities for advancements in medicine. Dollars become available for research, and new techniques and treatments are developed. That has certainly been the case as we’ve tried to better respond to bodies damaged by roadside bombers.”

She shook her head. “I’m so sorry. The carnage you’ve seen is probably staggering.”

“Of course. But I also had the opportunity to witness true heroics. So many very brave soldiers. Some of whom are going home without arms or legs. Then, of course, there’s the traumatic brain injuries. But still, they’re determined to have a life, even if it’s going to be a very different life from the one they had once anticipated.”

“Thank you for your service,” she said.

She didn’t say it because it was the politically correct thing to say. He could tell she meant it. And it felt good that she was proud of him. He ate a slice of bread, not sure how to tell her that her opinion mattered.

“How about you?” he asked instead. “I know that you’re teaching now but what did you do before that?”

She picked at the hem of the sheet and looked toward her feet. “I lived in Paris for a few years and worked at odd jobs. I make a mean latte,” she added, looking up. “Then I moved to Peru and worked as a nanny. The husband and wife were both high up in the government and they had three children. While I was working for them, I finally finished college.” She made eye contact. “Took me long enough, I know. I imagine you never thought it would happen.”

He shrugged. Elle was one of the smartest people he’d ever met. He’d never even considered that she wasn’t smart enough to go to college. He’d figured she just wasn’t interested.

“Anyway, after the youngest started school, I moved to Brazil and started working at the school, teaching English. I loved it.”

“And that’s where you met Jamas?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “He was a great benefactor to our school and to several others. I had no idea that he used his access to our students to pick out his next victims.”

“How did you find out?”

“Mia told me. I’m not sure why he targeted Mia. Perhaps because she’s such a beautiful girl. Perhaps because I’d adopted her and maybe he was trying to hurt me. What I learned from the authorities recently is that they believe he tries to make it look as if the girl is a runaway with fake notes and other clues.”

“Bastard,” Brody said.

“Absolutely. He played on the emotions of these young girls. He had several women working for him. Why they would do this, I have no idea, but they would make contact with these young girls, giving them small gifts at first to earn their confidence. You have to understand, these are very poor children with many needs and wants. Once they accepted, they were of course warned to tell no one, that they and their families would be in trouble for accepting the gifts. That’s nonsense, of course, but adolescent girls don’t understand that.”

“Of course not,” he said. “Oldest trick in the book.”

“Once their confidence was earned, the women would use some excuse to get the children into their vehicle and they were taken somewhere. Based on what I now know, they would be sold within hours and moved out of the country, never to be heard from again.”

“You said that Jamas made a mistake with Mia.”

“Yes. Evidently several different women tried to entice Mia into accepting gifts, but she would accept nothing. Maybe Jamas became intrigued by the challenge. Once he told me that he fancied himself a collector of all things rare and beautiful. At the time, I thought he was talking about art,” she admitted.

“For whatever the reason, he was obsessed with Mia,” she went on, determined to forgive herself for not realizing sooner that Jamas was a monster. “He made contact himself, figuring that Mia would trust him because he was a frequent visitor at the school. He made a mistake, though. The gift he gave her was a fashionable fragrance, one that all the girls saw advertised in the magazines that they devoured. When Mia saw that, she realized it was the same thing that she’d seen in her friend’s backpack, just a week before the friend had suddenly run away from the orphanage.”