Lethal Deception. Lynette Eason

mother swore Micah was just on an extended mission. And now this.

      The door opened and a short, round, dark-skinned woman with gray-streaked black hair stepped inside. Silent, flat, black eyes stared and Cassidy swallowed hard. The bruise above her left eye continued to throb and the nausea returned with a vengeance.

      She muffled a groan, regretting her brief fit of temper in the jeep. Shaking uncontrollably, she focused on the figure in front of her. As though by magic, a knife appeared in her visitor’s hand. Cassidy inhaled sharply and shrank back. Unable to tear her eyes from the fearsome weapon, she waited for the worst.

      The old woman stepped toward her and shifted the knife higher.

      “No, please.” Cassidy meant it to be a scream, but only managed a weak whimper.

      The woman moved behind her and Cassidy held her breath, expecting to feel the knife plunge between her shoulder blades. Instead, there was a slight tug and her hands popped free.

      Agonizing pain sucked the air from her lungs as her muscles screamed their protest at the sudden movement. Tears filled her eyes again, but this time she refused to make a sound.

      A short grunt brought her attention up to the face in front of her. The woman motioned for her to follow. Cassidy stood, swaying slightly. Her stomach protested, her eye throbbed, her legs shook, but she obeyed. I can do all things…

      “Tell me why I’m here, please,” she asked in English with a surprisingly steady voice.

      Another grunt answered her.

      Cassidy sighed and looked around. No way to escape; no weapon to be found. She had already examined every inch of the small hut and other than a lumpy-looking cot with a blanket, the place was empty.

      Once outside the dark hut, the bright sunlight intensified the throbbing in her aching head. She bit her lip. What she wouldn’t give for a sip of water and a painkiller. Rubbing her rope-burned wrists, she stumbled after the woman to a small hill that held—of all things—an outhouse.

      Although grateful for the moment of privacy, she wrinkled her nose and held her breath as she finished her business as quickly as possible. She opened the door to find the woman waiting with a small canteen.

      “Água.” The word came out as a grunt, but Cassidy understood. She eagerly grabbed the container, put it to her mouth and drank slowly; small sips to quench her thirst, but not enough to make her sick. The nausea subsided.

      “Obrigada,” she said. Thank you. With a shaky hand, she wiped her mouth and asked in Portuguese, the official language of Brazil, “Who are you?”

      “Maria.” Just one word, but at least it wasn’t a grunt.

      The woman’s dark eyes never changed from their dull flat expression, but her face softened by a fraction. Again, Maria motioned for Cassidy to follow. Again, Cassidy obeyed. The woman’s girth should have made her clumsy; instead, she moved quietly and gracefully, skirting over the rough ground.

      As she followed, Cassidy tried to formulate an escape plan. She had to get out of here. She had to get back to Alexis. The poor baby must be scared to death. All the adults in her life kept deserting her.

      But the question was—where was here?

      Cassidy cherished the few precious moments of exercise on the way back to her “prison.” Never in her wildest dreams would she have imagined that her mission of mercy would land her in the middle of a rebel camp deep in the Brazilian Amazon jungle. Confusion reigned. Why me, Lord? It wasn’t a complaint, but a sincere question. What did they want with her?

      “Eat. Entende?”

      Cassidy blinked. Yes, she understood.

      She entered the hut and noticed a plate full of food on the old cot. Her stomach rumbled, but no way was she sitting on those bug-infested blankets. Cassidy grabbed the plate, made sure no little critters had crawled into the food and moved to the wall beside the door. Eyes on Maria, she slid down to sit on the floor, resting the plate in her lap.

      She scooped up a tortilla and took a bite. Warm and surprisingly tasty, the food energized her and she settled back to eat. A canteen of tepid water finished off the meal.

      The door to the hut banged open and the vigilant Maria narrowed her eyes as she saw who entered. Cassidy yelped, scrambled to her feet and bolted for the back of the hut, trapped. Terror thudded through her, beating in time with her pulse. He came closer.

      Before Rafael could reach her, Maria planted herself in front of Cassidy, silent, yet ready, if necessary. Rafael stopped and glared at the two of them as though judging whether offending the old woman was worth it.

      To Cassidy’s relief, he backed toward the door and left without a word. She looked at Maria, “Why?”

      “You’re more valuable unharmed right now.”

      Cassidy swallowed hard. “Oh.”

      March 16

      Thursday morning

      Gabriel Sinclair patted the pocket of his plaid shirt. The papers crinkled reassuringly. He just hoped he didn’t get killed before he got to show them to o patrão—the boss located in the rebel camp just ahead. Gabe’s sleekly muscled arm gave the machete another vicious swing, his anger fueling his strength. How had he managed to get himself talked into this?

      One week ago, he’d been minding his own business when the ambassador to Brazil, Jonathan McKnight, had come to him at the hospital, tracking him down in the busy South Carolina emergency room and pulling him away from a patient.

      “I need you.”

      Curious, wary, Gabe motioned for the nurse to take over, and led the man down the hall to an empty office. He waved a hand toward one of the metal chairs, then Gabe took the chair behind the desk. Once Jonathan was seated, Gabe asked, “What do you need with me?”

      He watched the ambassador’s jaw work, the muscles flexing as the man clenched and unclenched his teeth. Something was obviously terribly wrong, but what?

      “Cassidy. She’s done a really stupid thing.”

      Now, there was a surprise, Gabe thought grimly. Cassidy and stupidity just naturally went together, didn’t they?

      “She hopped a plane to Brazil and got herself kidnapped.”

      “What?” Gabe clenched his fists, his attention fully focused on the man in front of him. That was a little more serious than stupid.

      “I need you to get her back.” Ambassador McKnight sat ramrod straight in the chair, his jaw tight, hands resting on his thighs. But his emotionless facade couldn’t cover the turmoil rolling in the man’s green eyes.

      “Kidnapped?” Gabe sputtered.

      “She was taken from a Brazilian orphanage and is being held somewhere in the jungle. Here.” He pulled a note out of his shirt pocket and shoved it into Gabe’s hand.

      Brazilian jungle? Orphanage? Gabe read the note. It was written in Portuguese.

      He read aloud as he translated it, “‘We have your daughter. Our boss wishes for you to meet with him. He wishes to learn the secrets of your government. Should you wish to have your filha bela returned to you, you will contact us to set up a meeting. You will also refrain from bringing in any police or authorities of any kind. If we even suspect that you have done so, we will send your daughter back to you…in pieces…or sell her to make the profit you denied me.’”

      Gabe tried not to picture a terrified Cassidy as he looked up in the ambassador’s eyes. Cassidy’s eyes. “Isn’t there someone else who could help her?”

      Jonathan shook his head. “I promise, if there were anyone else, I wouldn’t ask. But you owe me after that last mission…” He trailed off. Micah had been declared dead after the navy heard Gabe’s story. But his testimony had been sealed. He couldn’t tell the family exactly what happened.

      Gabe