Seduced by His Target. Gail Barrett

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      He sent a fleeting wish for the medical team’s safety, hoping they’d be all right.

      He was less certain about the spitfire in his lap.

      Holding on to his unconscious captive, he wheeled his gelding around. He spurred him into motion, cantering to the trailhead where the leader of the terror cell lay in wait. Then, with the thunderstorm raging around him, he raced off into the night.

      * * *

      Nadine regained consciousness bit by bit. Her forehead throbbed. Her throat felt bruised and raw. Every inch of her body ached, from her incredibly sore ribs to the fire scorching through her shoulder blades. And she couldn’t seem to move her arms.

      Someone had kidnapped her. The realization flooded through her in a rush. Henry. Lauren. Manny. Oh, God. Where were they? Panicked, she wrenched open her eyes. Then she blinked, struggling to orient herself and make out shapes in the inky night. Flames from a campfire flickered several yards off. The rain had stopped, but moisture clung to the air, so she doubted much time had passed. More impressions began to emerge from the darkness—the low rocks slanting above her, the trickle of nearby water, the chill from the stone floor seeping into her bones. She was in a cave, her hands bound, her back propped against the wall.

      She’d dressed before the attack, so she still wore her jacket and jeans. But she’d lost her cap, and her wet hair clung to her neck and cheeks, adding to the cold. Her arms were completely numb.

      She wriggled her icy fingers, then pulled on her restraint, unable to loosen the knot. At least her kidnappers had removed her gag, enabling her to breathe.

      But who had captured her and why?

      She turned her head, focusing on the campfire outside the cave. Three men sat around it, a row of boulders at their backs. To the right were several horses, their saddlebags piled nearby. To the left was a sheer rock wall. Smoke from the campfire rose in lazy wisps, then dissipated in the pitch-black air.

      Trying not to attract their attention, she studied the men again. One lay on his side, asleep. Beside him, a man wearing a white turban cleaned his weapons and whistled an off-key tune. The closest man sat facing the campfire, his back to the cave, his collar-length black hair gleaming like obsidian in the wavering light.

      They all had jet-black hair. The two she could see best had swarthy skin and beards. Were they Hispanic? Middle Eastern? Her heart swerved hard at the thought.

      But that was ridiculous. They couldn’t be Middle Eastern, despite the turban the one man wore. They had to be drug runners. Who else would be traveling through the Andes on horseback—and kidnapping foreigners, no less?

      Besides, who these men were, or why they’d brought her here didn’t matter right now. She had to concentrate on getting free.

      Except...where were the other prisoners? Surely they hadn’t only kidnapped her?

      Frowning, she ran her gaze around the cave again. This time, she caught sight of a man lying prostrate in the shadows, and her heart missed several beats. Henry. She couldn’t mistake his gray hair. And of all the people to kidnap...he was already suffering from altitude sickness. He couldn’t take any more abuse.

      But where was the rest of the team? Her uneasiness growing, she struggled to remember details about the attack. But all she recalled was a kaleidoscope of jumbled impressions—slashing rain, a heavily muscled man knocking her down, the scream of a frightened horse. The storm had been too fierce, the raid too fast. Maybe the other team members had gotten away.

      And if they had, they’d immediately mount a rescue...or maybe not. They wouldn’t know where the kidnappers had gone. The rain would have erased their tracks. And even assuming they did catch up, they couldn’t take on a drug cartel. It would be suicidal to try, especially since Manny had the only gun. No, they’d head straight down the mountain to the nearest town and summon help.

      Which meant she was on her own. She had to decide on a plan, then help Henry escape while they still had the advantage of surprise.

      Assuming he was alive.

      Her eyes swung back to their captors. The men continued to lounge around the campfire, still not looking her way. But they didn’t need to keep watch. They’d blocked the mouth of the cave, trapping Henry and her inside.

      Her hands bound, her movements awkward, she fought her way to her knees. Then she crept across the cold, stone ground toward Henry. Several difficult yards later, she reached his side.

      “Henry,” she whispered, kneeling beside him. He groaned, and she tried again. “Are you all right?”

      His eyes fluttered open, and he clutched his head. “Nadine?” He sounded dazed. “What the hell...?”

      “Shh. We’ve been kidnapped. How do you feel?”

      “Awful. Like a mule stepped on my head.”

      She could imagine. “Can you loosen this scarf? My hands are tied.”

      Grimacing, he released his head. “I’ll try.”

      “Hold on. Don’t move.” She swiveled around, leaning close enough for him to reach her wrists. Then she waited while he fumbled with the knots.

      “It’s wet. I can’t... Wait. Here we go.” A second later, the scarf slithered free.

      Prickles stabbed her arms. She gasped at the rush of pain, then bit down hard on a moan. Hunching her shoulders, she rubbed her arms and hissed as the circulation began to return.

      “Are you okay?” Henry whispered.

      Still wincing, she sucked in a breath. “I’m fine.” Better than he was, at any rate. Trying to ignore her discomfort, she turned to him again. “Come on. Sit up so I can check your head.”

      Scooting closer, she wrapped her arm around his waist. Then she slowly tugged him upright and leaned him against the wall. She slanted a quick glance at the men outside, but they weren’t paying attention to them. Yet.

      “I’ve got a penlight,” Henry said. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled it out.

      “Wait.” Nadine crawled around Henry, positioning herself between him and the cave’s entrance in case their captors looked their way. Then she clicked on the tiny flashlight and trained it on his scalp. “You’ve got a knot and a nasty gash. Look at me.” She angled the light toward his eyes. “Your pupils look good. Do you have any nausea? Dizziness?”

      “Both. I probably have a concussion.”

      “Hopefully a mild one. Does anything hurt besides your head?”

      He grimaced. “Isn’t that enough?”

      “Definitely.” A concussion combined with altitude sickness would cause anyone tremendous pain, let alone a man his age.

      She eyed his head again. “We really need to clean that cut. I don’t suppose these guys have a first aid kit.”

      “Doubtful.” He craned his neck to see the men outside the cave. “So who are they?”

      “Good СКАЧАТЬ