Chapter 17

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

"Uh-huh. Roger. Any intel coming through yet? Right. Send coordinates and keep me updated. We're moving out now."

Safe stared at Kevlar as he spoke to someone on the phone. He knew down to his bones that whatever information was being shared wasn't good. And he also had no doubt who it was about.

He'd been waiting for this moment ever since the day Wren arrived in South Sudan.

"Wren?" he asked as soon as Kevlar hung up.

The team leader nodded once.

"Sit rep?" Preacher asked in an urgent tone.

"The group was taken when they were on their way to the president's compound. They were driven southeast, just as we expected they would be—toward the jungle, where there are more places to hide," Kevlar said.

"What's the plan?" Flash asked .

Safe was glad his friends were asking the questions. He couldn't get the ball of dread out of his throat to speak.

"Tex is working on getting coordinates. We'll fly to Lototuru, Uganda, secure a safe house and go north, cross South Sudan's southernmost border heading into the East African Montane Forest, toward Mount Kinyeti. Intel says they have a rebel camp in the jungle near the base of the mountain. It's doubtful we'll be able to intercept them, which would be ideal. We'll have to figure out a way to get them out of the camp once we're there."

"Shit," Smiley swore.

"Any casualties?" Blink asked.

Safe held his breath as he waited for Kevlar's response.

"Unknown."

That wasn't exactly what he wanted to hear, but he supposed it was better than the alternative.

Leaning over, Safe picked up his pack. It was ready to go, had been since they'd completed their own mission. He hated that their worst-case scenario had come to fruition, but he had faith in Wren. She was tough and smart. She'd hold on until they could get to her.

Anything else was unthinkable.

Wren was miserable. She was hot, tired, and despite breaking in her boots, she had at least two blisters on each foot. It was one thing to wear her boots and socks on a seventy-two degree day back in Riverton. It was another thing altogether to slosh through a jungle, through streams, in what had to be at least mid-nineties temperatures. Her shirt was covered in sweat, as were her pants. Not to mention her hands felt numb from the zip-ties around her wrists.

All-in-all, being kidnapped and force-marched through the jungle sucked. The ride to where they were forced to get out of the vans had been mostly through savannah, flat land with tall grasses blowing in the breeze. But now they were well and truly in the jungle. And while the shade was nice, it was so humid, Wren felt as if she was trying to breathe while underwater.

"When are we stopping?" Dallas asked for what seemed like the hundredth time.

Just like the last ninety-nine times he'd asked the question, none of their captors answered.

"It's so hot," Archie whined as he tried to wipe his brow with his shoulder.

As bad as she felt for herself, Wren felt worse for her coworkers. They were woefully unprepared for this hike. She wasn't exactly enjoying it, but thank goodness she was wearing boots and her shirt was made out of wicking material. It was still stuck to her with sweat, but it was obvious the others were really suffering.

Their cotton long-sleeve shirts and suit jackets had to be absolute torture. They hadn't been able to take the jackets off because of the way their hands were zip-tied in front of them, but they'd done their best to shrug the material off their shoulders. The loafers on their feet were completely inappropriate in this environment.

But worse than being uncomfortable and scared, if they didn't shut their mouths, they were all gonna be killed before they could be rescued.

As she had the thought, Wren wiggled her toes on her right foot, feeling the ring nestled safely in her boot. She didn't feel quite so alone or helpless, knowing that Tex guy would eventually see where she was and send help.

"I need some water," Colby ordered.

No one made any move to get him what he wanted.

"Did you hear me?" he asked the man closest to him. "If you don't want us dropping dead here on the forest floor, we need water. If you think you'll get any money for a dead man, you're wrong."

To her surprise, the man who seemed to be in charge, walking at the front of their little procession, stopped. He turned and stalked back toward Colby.

Wren braced—because the man did not look happy.

Without a word, he lifted his weapon and swung it at Colby.

The butt of the rifle hit her boss in the face and he went down like a sack of potatoes. Moaning, he got to his knees but stayed hunched over on the ground, his hands holding his now bleeding face.

The rebel gestured toward the rest of them with the rifle. "Anyone else thirsty?" he asked.

Everyone quickly shook their heads.

"Fucking weak Americans," he muttered before walking toward the front of the group once more. "Move out!" he yelled.

Colby was still moaning on the jungle floor .

"Get up," Wren whispered, more to herself than anyone else.

"Get up, man," Oliver urged Colby.

"I can't," he groaned.

"If you don't, they'll hurt you more," Archie added.

Oliver reached down and awkwardly grabbed Colby's upper arm. "I'll help you, come on."

Somehow, Oliver got Colby to his feet. Wren suppressed the gasp that threatened to escape when she saw his face. The butt of the rifle had opened a gash in his cheek at least two inches long. She wasn't an expert, but even she knew it probably needed stitches. And having an open wound like that in an environment like this was just asking for trouble.

The group started moving again, and Wren did her best to swallow. She was just as thirsty as the others, but it was more than obvious the men who'd captured them had no intention of letting them have any of the water in the canteens they all carried around their chests.

What had to have been at least another hour passed when the leader finally came to a halt next to a small stream. "Five minutes!" he called out. "Then we head out again."

"Water!" Archie exclaimed and immediately fell to his knees next to the stream.

"Wait! It's probably contaminated," Oliver said.

"If we get diarrhea, we're fucked," Dallas added.

"We're already fucked," Colby muttered, then fell to his knees next to Archie.

For once, Wren agreed with her boss. She remembered what Smiley had told her …

…without water you'll weaken, and any chance for escape that arises, you might not be strong enough to take it.

She understood those words much better now. She felt as weak as a kitten. Almost dizzy with dehydration. With how much she was sweating, she needed the liquid.

Archie and Colby were trying to use their cuffed hands to scoop out water and bring it to their lips, but Wren was too impatient to do it that way. She lay on her belly, arms tucked uncomfortably under her, and leaned down and drank from the stream directly.

Seeing that her way was much more efficient, the others copied her, and soon all five of them were slurping noisily and greedily.

Wren heard their captors laughing all around them, but she didn't care. She concentrated on drinking the water—which tasted freaking amazing—not on the men who were making fun of them for lying in the dirt.

She could practically feel her cells soaking up the much-needed liquid. Every muscle in her body hurt, she wasn't used to this much physical activity, but she refused to think about it too much. If she did, she wouldn't be able to get up and start walking again.

"I don't think I can walk another step," Archie complained.

"My feet hurt so damn bad," Oliver agreed.

"It's so hot," Dallas added.

Wren kept her mouth shut. She agreed with all three of them, but bitching about their problems wouldn't help. She'd learned that the hard way growing up. And especially in this situation, it was better to keep her lips sealed, her head down, and survive from one minute to the next. That's all she had to do. Bo was coming. Or one of his special forces friends. Tex knew she was out here, she just had to be patient.

She thought about telling the others that help was on the way. That she had a tracker on her…but this wasn't the time or place. They were surrounded by rebels who could overhear, and the last thing she wanted was someone opening their big mouths at some point and ruining any surprise advantage whoever came for them might have.

But Wren was scared out of her mind. She didn't like being the only woman in a group of men this large. If one decided he wanted to sexually assault her, she had a feeling everyone would want a turn. She'd seen the way some of the men had leered at her already. Didn't like the way the man who'd searched her had stared at her bare breasts.

"I want to make a call," Colby told one of the men standing guard over them.

She winced. That wasn't the way to stay unnoticed, for sure. Hadn't he already learned his lesson?

"Do you?" the man asked.

"Yes," Colby said, sounding more sure of himself, now that one of their captors was talking to him. "If you're holding us for ransom, the trustees of BT Energy need to be notified. I can do that."

"Oh, they will be notified," the man said. Then he and his rebel buddies laughed.

The man in charge walked toward them.

"Oh shit," Dallas said under his breath.

Wren agreed with his assessment wholeheartedly .

"Hold him," the leader ordered his men, nodding at Oliver.

"What? No! Stop!" Oliver screeched in a high-pitched tone when he was grabbed by three men and hauled to his feet.

"We're going to notify your people," the leader said with a smirk. "They'll know in no uncertain terms that we're serious about wanting money. And wanting it soon." Then he nodded at the men holding Oliver, and they forced him to his knees and wrenched his arms over his head. Then they pushed him forward until his face was in the dirt. One of the men sat on his shoulders, holding him down. Another grabbed his wrists and held them to the ground, splaying one hand open.

The third took out a huge machete.

"Oh God, no! Don't!" Archie begged.

Wren couldn't move. She was frozen in terror as the rebel brought the machete to Oliver's hands—and calmly and methodically cut off his pointer finger and his thumb.

Her coworker screamed, and Wren knew she'd hear the sounds that came out of his mouth in her nightmares for years to come.

Blood immediately spurted from Oliver's hand. The water Wren just drank threatened to come back up, but she forced herself to swallow hard. Breathing through her nose, she watched as the rebels laughed and played with Oliver's fingers. Throwing them back and forth as if they were some sort of ball.

Oliver was still bent over, and Wren could hear him moaning and gagging against the ground .

The leader came over to where Colby was still sitting next to the stream. "Any other demands?" he sneered.

Colby merely shook his head, his gaze locked on Oliver.

"Didn't think so. Get up. We have a long way still to go."

In shock, Wren stood, along with Archie and Dallas. Colby continued to sit and stare at poor Oliver.

"Get up," the leader ordered.

But Colby seemed to be in some sort of trance. Shock, probably.

"Get up," Wren whispered.

Still, he didn't.

The leader moved quickly. His foot flying out and connecting with Colby's shoulder. He fell over, and when he was on his side, more rebels came over and began to kick him.

Wren wanted to shout at them to stop, but self-preservation kept her quiet. She simply backed away from the melee, along with the other two men.

A minute later, the rebels stood back, smirking down at the bleeding and bruised man on the ground. His fancy pressed suit was dirty and ripped. Stained with sweat and now blood. The gash in his face was still oozing, and now he had wounds all over his torso from where their captors' steel-toe boots had broken his skin. She could see new injuries through his filthy white dress shirt.

"Get him up," the leader ordered Archie and Dallas. They moved without hesitation toward their boss, helping him to his feet.

"If he stops walking, he's dead," the leader told his men, then turned and headed into the jungle.

"I can't," Colby muttered .

"You have to," Archie told him.

As the two men were helping Colby, Wren slowly walked over to where Oliver had been hauled to his feet by the men who'd held him down. He was white as a sheet, and she could see a pool of bile where he'd lain.

"Hold your hands against your belly and wrap your shirt as tightly as you can around your hand," she told him quietly. When he stood there staring at his bleeding hand, where his fingers had been, Wren moved quickly.

She grabbed his hands and pressed them into his stomach. He hissed in pain, but Wren forced herself to ignore him. She did her best to wrap the bottom of his shirt around his hand, using it as a bandage. It wasn't great, but it was better than nothing. "Hold your hands there as we walk," she said as calmly as she could.

"It hurts," Oliver whispered raggedly.

"I know," she said. "But you can do this. You have to do this. Understand?"

"They're going to rape you," he said flatly, as if he was talking about the weather.

Wren wanted to lash out. Ask him why the hell he'd say something like that. But she knew. He was in shock. They all were.

Instead, she simply hurried to follow the rebels as they filed back into the jungle.

Looking back to make sure the others were coming—not that she'd be able to do anything if they weren't—Wren saw Oliver's fingers lying on the ground. It was one more sign that their kidnappers had no intention of doing a damn thing to help them survive. They hurt them because it was fun. Because they'd grown up surrounded by violence and knew nothing different.

She was well aware that at any moment the group could turn on her. They were having fun torturing Colby and the other men, but eventually they wouldn't be able to resist their baser urges. They had a woman at their mercy. Wren had no doubt when their attention turned to her, it wouldn't be to cut off a finger or two.

Shivering, even though she was sweating profusely, she regretted not asking Bo and the others how long it would take for someone to get to them if they were kidnapped. Because she could feel the clock ticking. Her time was coming, time for her to be in the captors' crosshairs.

Taking a deep breath, Wren's resolve hardened.

No. Just no . She'd do whatever it took to prevent that from becoming her fate. She'd bide her time. Be smart, just like the SEALs told her to do. She had the tools they'd given her. She'd use them. She just had to wait until the right time.

By the time they stumbled into the camp, Wren could barely stay on her feet. Her coworkers weren't doing any better. Especially Colby and Oliver. They had absolutely no color in their faces and hadn't said much in the last few hours.

They were brought over to a large tree and shoved to the ground. The pressure off her feet was welcome. Wren scooted closer to the tree, away from their captors and behind Archie and Colby.

"Water?" Dallas asked quietly and hopefully. But the men who'd brought them to the tree either didn't hear the request or ignored it. They walked toward a large fire, where all the other men were gathering.

Looking around, Wren noted that there weren't that many more additional men at the camp when they'd arrived. It seemed as if the majority of the group had escorted them through the jungle. It was the first positive thing she could think of that had happened since they'd been kidnapped. The fewer men, the easier it would be to overcome them when help arrived.

Or…maybe the easier it would be for Wren to escape unnoticed.

A niggling of guilt went through her. If she got away and left her coworkers behind, the captors would probably take their anger out on them. But the guilt wasn't enough to make her want to stay.

She watched as the men started drinking something out of bottles. She assumed it was liquor of some sort. If they got drunk, their inhibitions would be lowered, and any meager morals they might have would be gone. If one person got it in their head to rape her, they'd all follow suit.

No, she had to get out of there. As soon as she could.

It had gotten dark a while ago, and while some people might be scared of being alone in the jungles of Africa, in the middle of the night, Wren wasn't one of them. She'd take the animals in the forest over a group of drunk men any day.

The leader strode over to where Wren and her coworkers were huddled against the tree. "Tomorrow we contact your people. See how much your lives are worth to them. "

He laughed, then took a giant swig from the bottle he was holding.

"Until then…be good. There's no escape from here. You have no idea which way to go and the animals in Africa are far worse than anything that might happen to you here. If you think a few lost fingers and bruises are bad…wait until you're eaten by a cheetah. You won't see him coming. He'll stalk you and pounce before you're aware he's even there. Lions, leopards, rhinoceros, they can all outrun you. And don't get me started on the poisonous snakes and insects…Sleep well. We'll talk in the morning."

He laughed again, then turned his back on them and headed back to the others gathered around the fire.

"I'm hungry," Dallas mumbled.

"Shut up," Archie scolded.

"They have to keep us alive if they want any ransom," Colby argued weakly.

Wren wasn't so sure about that. Yes, the trustees at BT Energy should be smart enough not to send any money unless they had proof of life, but the second even one cent had been received, their captors would probably kill them.

"If you'd have kept your mouth shut, I'd still have my fingers!" Oliver hissed at their boss.

"That wasn't my fault," he protested.

"The hell it wasn't!" Oliver practically yelled.

Wren winced when a few of their captors looked toward them.

"All I did was tell them that I could get a hold of the trustees. "

"And they cut off my fingers in response!" Oliver screamed.

The men around the fire laughed.

"Shut up!" Archie told Oliver.

"Why? He's the one who decided this trip was a great idea. And look what happened! We shouldn't have come. He's too fucking greedy!"

Wren agreed with Oliver, but it was way too late for any of them to be second-guessing the trip now.

"Seriously, shut the hell up!" Dallas hissed. "You want them to come over here and cut off something else?"

Yet again, Wren agreed with one of her coworkers.

Oliver and Colby fell silent. Neither looked happy, but none of them wanted any more attention from their captors. Eventually the rebels' attention went back to the food they were eating—and not sharing with their captives.

"We're going to die," Oliver said in a low, hollow tone a minute later.

"No, we aren't," Colby countered just as quietly.

"We're in the middle of the African jungle. You've been beat to hell for no reason whatsoever, my fingers are food for whatever fucking animals are in this hellhole, and Wren's gonna be gang-raped. I'd rather die than find out what other tortures they have in store for us."

Wren really wished he would stop talking about her being raped. She was barely keeping the images out of her head as it was.

"No one knows where we are. You read the literature; the State Department isn't sending anyone to rescue us. We were warned . We're dead. I'd rather be shot in the head than starve to death," Oliver continued. "I think your bodyguards and the others were lucky to have been shot. At least they died quickly."

Wren tried to block out his ramblings. The worst thing they could do was fall into despair. Another thing she'd learned from Bo and his team. Stay positive. Hang on no matter what. Do not give up. It sounded as if Oliver had already done just that.

"I'm hungry," Dallas repeated, as if they hadn't heard him the first time.

"Shut up. We all are," Archie said testily.

Her coworkers fell silent. Wren took the opportunity to study their surroundings. They'd been placed against a huge tree on the edge of a small encampment. There were tarps stretched over smaller trees near the fire, which gave the rebels shelter from the weather. Other than the fire, the area was pitch dark. Out here in the jungle, without any kind of light pollution, once away from the fire, Wren wouldn't be able to see a foot in front of her.

But if she couldn't see, neither could anyone else. Of course, their captors had flashlights, but the dark should help her…if she was able to get away.

The good thing was, the rebels were confident in the fact that their captives were cuffed and terrified and out of their element. And if they kept them hungry and thirsty, they'd be less likely to try to escape.

Screw that. Wren was getting the hell out of here. She had no desire to see what the rebels had in store for them in the morning.

Just as she had the thought, it started raining. And not a gentle pitter-patter of raindrops either. One second it was clear, and the next they were soaked to the bone.

The men around the fire didn't bitch about the sudden rainstorm, they were probably used to it, they simply dispersed to their respective lean-tos and settled in with their bottles of alcohol.

"Fucking hell!" Colby exclaimed.

"I'm going to get crotch rot," Archie bitched.

"I hate the rain," Oliver said almost sadly.

"This sucks," Dallas added.

But Wren was thrilled. She hoped it kept raining. The sound would hopefully conceal her escape. She just needed to be patient. The rebels had to sleep at some point. Maybe they'd even pass out from all the alcohol they were guzzling.

Meanwhile, she was exhausted but not tired. That made no sense, but there was no way she was letting down her guard to go to sleep. She'd stay awake for as long as it took for the opportunity to get the hell out of there to present itself.

The advice Bo and his team had given her about escaping into the jungle came back. As if Bo was right there with her, whispering in her ear, she heard him say, Find a place to hole up and wait for help to arrive.

That was just what she planned to do. She'd get as far away from this damn camp as she could, then wait. She had the tracker. Whoever Tex sent to South Sudan would come straight to her. He'd know where the encampment was because by now, he had to have tracked her. Would see that she was no longer moving. Would assume this was a rebel camp.

She was making a lot of assumptions, but Tex wasn't stupid. She didn't know him personally, but he was obviously respected by Bo and the others. He'd figure out this shitstorm. He had to.

Just as she had to get away. She knew without a doubt the longer she stayed, the more danger she was in. She had her survival gear. She'd fend for herself until she was rescued and brought back to the States. Then she was never leaving again. Never.