Seduced by His Target. Gail Barrett

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СКАЧАТЬ heels as he half carried, half dragged Henry into the shade of a sprawling tree and settled him against the trunk. Henry slumped back and closed his eyes.

      Worried, she knelt on the ground beside him and checked his pulse. His forehead was clammy, his breathing too shallow and fast. The gash on his head had stopped bleeding, thank goodness, but he still sported that ugly knot.

      Rasheed dropped the saddlebag at her feet. “How is he? Any improvement?”

      “Improvement?” She tipped back her head and glared. “Look at him! I told you he couldn’t ride.”

      His gaze shifted to the wounded man. He rubbed his scruffy jaw, an emotion that resembled sympathy ghosting through his dark eyes. And for a moment, she was tempted to believe that he was a good guy, that he cared about their safety and was actually on their side.

      Shocked, she gave herself a mental shake. What was this? Stockholm syndrome? This man wasn’t her friend. He was an outlaw, a criminal, the man who’d kidnapped her. Was she so desperate for an ally that she’d started imagining kindness where it didn’t exist?

      So what if he spoke English like an American? So what if he was gentle with Henry, and seemed sensitive to his plight? It was probably a ploy, a trick to make her more pliable, to convince her to cooperate. She had to stay on guard.

      “He can rest while we eat.” Rasheed motioned to the saddlebag he’d dropped. “There’s water in there. Some dried food, too. There should be enough for all of us. Go ahead and get it out.”

      “What? You expect me to wait on you after all you’ve done?”

      He shot her a level gaze. “Get out the food, Nadira.”

      “Nadine.”

      “What?”

      “I’m Nadine, not Nadira.” She hadn’t gone by that name in years. And she had no intention of starting again now.

      His eyes held hers for a heartbeat. The silence between them stretched. “Fine. Then, get out the food, Nadine. And don’t leave this spot.” Not waiting for an answer, he strode off.

      Indignant, she scowled as he watered the horses, then joined the other men. He was delusional if he thought she’d cooperate with him. She was a prisoner, not his servant, and he could get his own damned food.

      Still fuming, she turned her attention back to Henry. But one glance at the older doctor, and her anger instantly deflated, giving way to a rush of concern. His eyes were closed, his skin waxy in the midday light—definitely not a good sign. She removed her jacket, balled it up and wedged it behind his head.

      Then she settled on the ground beside him, pulled her knees to her chest and tried to think. Her head ached. She was so thoroughly exhausted she wanted to curl up in a ball and sleep. And icy frissons of panic kept creeping through her nerves, the extent of her predicament impossible to ignore.

      Her father had found her. How he’d done it in this remote location she didn’t know. But he had to be behind her kidnapping. Nothing else made sense. And unless she escaped, he was going to make good on his promise to see her dead.

      Even worse, she’d dragged Henry into this mess. Now his life was in danger because of her.

      What was she going to do?

      She rubbed her gritty eyes, sighing as the warm breeze tousled her loose hair. The temperatures had risen as they’d headed downhill, riding northeast toward the coca fields. She glanced at the sheer mountains jutting into the sky, the river wending through the valley miles below. In the distance, coca fields filled the ancient terraces, forming a multihued patchwork of green.

      Knowing she had to come up with a solution, she looked at her captors again. They knelt in the shade beside the creek, going through the ritual of their midday prayers. A cold feeling took hold in her gut. They were the same type of men she’d grown up with, the men she’d fled her home to escape—zealots who preached a doctrine of hatred, bullies who used brutality to get their way. Men like her father, her brother. Men who treated women like property, who thought they had a divine right to control her destiny and would kill her if she didn’t comply.

      Her gaze narrowed on the white-turbaned man with the creepy eyes, the one they called Manzoor. He appeared to be their leader, given how the other men deferred to him. She could envision him consorting with her father. He had the same inhuman eyes.

      The man with the silver tooth and checkered scarf was named Amir. He struck her as less intelligent, as more of an enforcer than a thinker, but she knew better than to sell him short. He had a sadistic look about him, as if he delighted in inflicting pain—like her heinous brother, Sultan.

      She was less certain about Rasheed, the man who’d captured her. Her gaze lingered on him as he went through the prescribed motions of the midday prayer. He intrigued her; she’d give him that much. Every time she looked his way, her nerves went on full alert. But he was too earthy, too masculine with that beard stubble and muscled build—exactly the kind of man she took pains to avoid.

      As if sensing her appraisal, he turned his head, his dark gaze fastening on hers. And for an instant she couldn’t breathe, her heart embarking on a crazy sprint. She took in his shaggy, jet-black hair, the intelligence in his midnight eyes, the banked power in the way he moved. He’d removed his jacket when the weather warmed and pushed his sleeves to his elbows, exposing the dark hair sprinkling his corded arms.

      The men all stood, and he looked away. She dragged in a breath, trying to figure out her baffling reaction to this man. He was obviously a criminal. Why else would he kidnap her? But she couldn’t escape the impression that he was different somehow. She kept imagining those glimmers of sympathy, making her wonder if he might care.

      She rolled her eyes in disgust. Talk about wishful thinking! She was grasping at straws, letting his undeniably virile looks influence her thinking and indulging in fantasies that could get her killed.

      Besides, she didn’t need his help. She’d relied on herself for years, surviving far worse dangers than this. And she was going to escape these men.

      But she had to help Henry recover first. Her own stomach growling, she opened the flap on the saddlebag and rooted inside for food. She unearthed a container filled with some kind of jerky, several bags of dried fruit and nuts and a cache of coca leaves. She set the food on a towel with a bottle of water, then gently nudged Henry’s arm. “Henry, wake up. You need to eat.”

      He opened his eyes with a groan. “What?”

      “Come on. You haven’t eaten in hours.”

      Grimacing, he sat up straighter and glanced around. “Where are we?”

      “I don’t know. We’ve been heading north toward the border with Colombia.” She handed him the water bottle. “We’ve descended quite a bit, though, so you should start feeling better before too long.”

      “I hope so. My head...”

      Nadine peered into his bloodshot eyes. “Your pupils look normal. How’s your vision?”

      “Better. Clear. And the ringing in my ears has stopped. But I’m tired. And this blasted headache...”

      “Try to eat something, and then you can take a nap.” She pulled the towel closer, СКАЧАТЬ