Enticed by the Operative (Doctors in Danger, Book 1) (16 page)

CHAPTER 16

O
livia hurried forward, her heart in her throat. Once she’d realized the men were headed into the forest, she’d hung back a little, letting them get far ahead of her. But now that they were out of sight her nerves took over. What if they loaded Logan into a vehicle and took off into the jungle? She’d never find him again. And even though she had no idea how she could help him, she still wanted to keep an eye on him. It was silly, she knew, but part of her thought that as long as she could see Logan he would be okay.

She picked up the pace, anxiety propelling her forward. A series of sharp pops split the air, and her heart jumped into her throat.

Gunshots.

She moved to the edge of the path, uncertain of how to proceed. If she just waltzed up with no warning, she was likely to get shot for her troubles. But she didn’t want to let anyone know she was here, either. Maybe she could creep ahead and get a view of what was happening, then go for help. That was probably the best thing to do, even though her mind screamed at her to rush in and make sure Logan was okay.

“You can’t help him if you’re dead,” she muttered to herself.

Moving cautiously, she inched forward. The gunshots had stopped, and based on the loud crashing sounds now drifting back, someone—or
someones
—had headed into the jungle.
Please be Logan.
Let him be alive still!

An eerie stillness fell over the rain forest, and Olivia got the sense that the path ahead was deserted. Had the men headed into the vegetation for a deadly game of hide-and-seek?

Feeling brave, she sped up a bit and came to a bend in the path. She stepped into the trees and used a large trunk for cover, peering around it to see what was ahead.

Two men were on the ground, their blood staining the leaves on the forest path. Her first instinct was to rush forward to see if she could help, but she held the urge in check, glancing around to make sure they were truly alone. No one else was on the path, and the lush greenery surrounding them didn’t stir. Evidently, they all had run into the forest.

She jumped back on the path and scurried forward, her nerves jumping at the exposure. If someone came back, they’d see her right away... But she couldn’t just leave these men. They were clearly injured, and she took her oath as a doctor seriously. It was her duty to try to help them, if she could.

She knelt down by the closest man and recognized him as one of the group who had been at the exchange. Unfortunately, he was beyond saving. The bullet had hit him in the head, and he’d likely died immediately. Olivia shifted to go to the second man but something on the ground caught her eye. It was a gun, and it had probably belonged to the dead man. She reached for it and tucked it into the waistband of her scrubs. She didn’t really know how to handle a gun, but just having it close made her feel better.

It was a few steps to the other man, and as she lowered herself next to him she caught a glimpse of his face. Shock hit her like a bolt of lightning as she realized it was Juan Pablo.

Tears burned her eyes as she assessed his injury. He’d taken a bullet to the chest, and while he was still alive, his breathing was shallow and his color was pale, indicating he’d lost a lot of blood.

“Why did you do this?” She pressed hard on the entrance wound, her grief building. Bad enough she’d lost his friendship. How could he have betrayed her like this? Never in a million years would she have thought him capable of trying to hurt someone else, much less lure Logan into the woods to meet his death.

He let out a soft moan and moved sluggishly, lifting a hand to try to brush her away. “Wake up,” she said. “Talk to me.”

His eyelids fluttered and then opened, his gaze unfocused. “Stay with me,” she ordered.

He glanced around wildly and then saw her face. “Olivia,” he whispered, his voice cracking.

“We’re going to get you out of here,” she said, trying to sound confident.

“No,” he mumbled. “You need to leave. They’re coming back.”

“Who’s coming back?” She glanced over her shoulder automatically, but no one was there.

“The producers. They’re going to kill Logan.”

“Why?” She had to know what had made Juan Pablo turn against her like this. There had to be an explanation.

“Carlos knows he’s DEA. He told me to get rid of him.”

The name washed over her like a bucket of ice water, and Olivia’s breath caught in her chest. “What did you say?”

Juan Pablo frowned, clearly confused by the question. He was growing weaker by the minute, so she had to act fast.

“Who wants Logan dead?”

“Carlos.”

She swallowed hard. “From Fantasmas?”

Juan Pablo’s eyes widened. “Don’t say their name.” He tried to lift his head but lacked the strength. “Don’t call them here!”

So it was the same Carlos. How had he discovered Logan’s identity?

Then another thought struck her—since he knew the truth about Logan, was Carlos going to kill Avery and Mallory? Were her friends already dead?

The idea filled her with terror, and she leaned over and vomited in the dirt. Logan was gone, and her two best friends were probably being targeted at this very moment. Was she destined to lose everyone she cared about in one fell swoop?

“Leave, Olivia,” Juan Pablo said. He reached up to grip her hand. “You have to get out of here. I don’t want you hurt.”

“Too late for that.” She pressed harder on his wound and he let out a small cry of pain. “I’m not going to leave you here to die alone.”

His eyelids fluttered. “I don’t deserve your help.”

“That’s true,” she agreed. “But you’re going to get it anyway.”

Juan Pablo pressed his lips shut, stifling another moan. Satisfied she’d done all she could to stop the bleeding, Olivia rocked back on her heels and glanced around. They were still alone, but for how much longer? Could she leave Juan Pablo here while she searched for Logan, or should she try to get help first and come back with reinforcements? She hated the idea of leaving without Logan, but Juan Pablo wasn’t exactly stable. The longer he was spread out on the jungle floor, the more likely it was he would die.

There was no help for it—she had to tend to the patient in front of her and hope that Logan had evaded the men chasing him. He’d already shown himself to be resourceful in the jungle—hopefully his luck was holding.

“I will find you,” she said softly. Logan couldn’t hear her, but just saying the words out loud made her feel a little better about leaving.

She bent at the waist and hooked her hands under Juan Pablo’s armpits. Moving slowly, she began to drag him along the path, taking care not to jostle him more than necessary. It wasn’t ideal to move him before his condition was fully stable, but she had no other choice. If she left him alone, he might die before she could bring back help. The muscles of her arms and legs burned and her lower back cramped in protest, but she stayed hunched over, her anger fueling her efforts. He had to survive so she could question him and find out exactly how he was involved with Fantasmas and who he had sent after Logan.

Inch by torturous inch, she moved back toward the town. At this rate, it would take a while to return to civilization, but she refused to give up. Logan wouldn’t abandon her—she wasn’t going to leave him, either.

She took another step back, and her foot landed on something hard. Probably a rock or branch in the path. She kicked out to displace the obstacle, but her foot struck something large and unmoving. She glanced behind her shoulder to try to see what was blocking her way, and her heart skipped a beat.

A man stood behind her, tall and unyielding. But not just any man, she realized with a sick sense of dread. It was the leader from her earlier drug swap.

Recognition flared in his eyes and his mouth curved in a wide smile. “
Hola
, Senorita Doctor. We meet again.”

* * *

The voice carried on the wind, an eerie, disembodied sound that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

“Mr. DEA Agent, I have something you want.”

Logan paused, trying to determine the taunt’s source. The voice was audible but not too loud, which meant the men chasing him were a good distance away.

Or at least one of them was. There was no telling where the second man had gone—perhaps he was waiting for Logan to make a mistake and reveal himself.

Too bad he wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction.

He moved on, stepping carefully, trying to avoid rustling the vegetation too much. But the voice followed him.

“Don’t you want to speak to her?”

That brought him up short and his mind started to race. The
her
could only be Olivia. But she was safe in the hospital.

Wasn’t she?

Yes
, he told himself firmly.
This is nothing but a ploy.
The man was clearly trying to goad him into revealing his position. But a small voice of doubt piped up in his mind. How did the man know he was connected to Olivia? He hadn’t seen them together before, so unless Juan Pablo had said something about her, how would the man know to use her as bait?

“Say hello,” the voice continued. A split second later a feminine cry rang out, startling a flock of birds nearby.

Olivia!

Logan’s heart flip-flopped in his chest and fear slammed down on him with all the force of an avalanche. He had barely managed to get away from these guys on his own—how the hell was he going to rescue Olivia?

“Come join us,” the man taunted. “She’s dying to see you.”

Another cry of pain echoed through the trees. Then Olivia yelled, “Don’t listen to him, Logan! Stay aw—” Her voice cut off abruptly, and Logan’s stomach dropped. What had they done to her?

“I’m coming!” he yelled. There was no other choice. It was possible she was already dead, but he couldn’t leave her without knowing for sure. “Don’t hurt her!”

“You have five minutes,” the man replied. “Then she dies.”

Logan began walking in the direction of the man’s voice, making no effort to hide his movements. He still wasn’t sure quite where they were, but hopefully the second man would find him and bring him in. He briefly wondered if they were going to shoot him on sight but dismissed the thought almost as soon as it had formed. They wanted to torture him first.

“I’m coming!” he yelled again. His muscles burned as he picked up the pace, and sweat ran into his eyes, blurring his vision. Where was the damn path? Had he really gone that far?

He got his answer a moment later when he spotted a small gap in the vegetation. Ducking through this, he found himself back on the dirt trail. But which direction should he take?

“One minute,” the man said, his voice much closer now.

Logan turned and ran, his feet digging into the dark, loamy earth of the forest floor. It felt a bit like running in a thin layer of sand, but he pushed harder, refusing to let it slow him down.

He skidded and slipped around a bend in the path and caught sight of three figures up ahead. “Here,” he yelled, as loudly as his lungs would let him.
Please don’t let me be too late...

Logan slid to a halt and took in the scene, his heart pounding from exertion and worry over Olivia. Was she still alive? Yes! There she was, kneeling on the ground next to Juan Pablo’s body. He saw the marks on the ground and figured she had come across the injured man and had been trying to drag him back to town when the group had found them. It was just like her to put herself in danger to save someone else, and he wanted to simultaneously kiss her and strangle her for it.

The leader turned to face him but kept his hand on Olivia’s shoulder. Logan ran his gaze over her body, looking for signs of injury. There were no visible marks, but as he watched she cradled her left arm. The bastard must have twisted it pretty hard to make her scream, and Logan vowed silently that he would make the man pay for hurting her.

“I’m here,” Logan said. “You can let her go now.”

The man raised a brow. “I could. But you killed one of my men. You owe me a life.” He jerked Olivia to her feet, shoving her in front of him. “Maybe I should take this one as payment?”

“No!” Logan stepped forward but drew up short as the second man pointed his weapon at him. “No,” he said, more calmly this time. “I know you’re going to kill me. That is your payment. She had nothing to do with it.”

“That is true.” The man looked from Logan to Olivia and back again, speculation bright in his eyes. “But your life doesn’t mean that much to me. I think I will take you both. I have questions for you,” he said, looking at Logan. “And my men are lonely.” He used the barrel of his gun to flip Olivia’s ponytail over her shoulder. She didn’t move, but Logan saw her lips press tightly together in disgust. His fists clenched and he rocked forward onto the balls of his feet, wanting to pull her out of reach. But the second man lifted his gun, the threat clear. Logan forced his body to relax—he couldn’t help Olivia if he was dead.

The leader smiled as he watched Logan’s reaction, as if it had confirmed something he’d suspected. In that instant, Logan realized his mistake. By making his feelings for Olivia clear, he had put her in even more danger.

“Time to go,” the man announced. He gestured to his partner, then poked Olivia in the back.

“Wait,” she protested, digging her heels into the dirt. “We can’t just leave him here. He needs medical attention.”

Oh, no.
Logan knew what was going to happen next, and he wished more than anything he could spare her the sight. He tried to catch her eye, to distract her, but she was focused on her patient and didn’t look at him.

The man glanced down at the prone figure of Juan Pablo, pale and limp on the ground. He shrugged, then took aim and fired.

The shot sounded like a cannon in the otherwise quiet space, and Olivia jumped. She stared at Juan Pablo, her eyes wide and her mouth opening and closing in shock.

“Move,” the man told her, poking her in the ribs with the muzzle of his gun. “Or I’ll do the same to you.”

CHAPTER 17

O
livia huddled on the floor and stared at the door of the small shack. She was exhausted, but she didn’t want to close her eyes. Every time she did, she relived Juan Pablo’s death over and over again until she thought she’d go mad.

It’s my fault.
If only she hadn’t drawn attention to him! They would have left and he might have been able to crawl to safety, or someone may have come across him while hiking on the trail. Either way, he would have stood a chance at survival.

Instead, he’d died in the dirt at her feet.

The men hadn’t missed a beat. After shooting Juan Pablo, the leader had grabbed her by the arm and yanked her after him, while the other man forced Logan to follow. She wasn’t sure how long they walked, but before they came to the clearing where she’d met them earlier, they veered off the trail at a small break in the vegetation. She tripped and stumbled down the rocky path and saw the men growing more impatient by the minute. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, they came to a Jeep and she was shoved unceremoniously into the backseat.

Logan landed next to her, but before he could say anything, the leader turned to face them both from the front seat. “If either of you speaks a word, I will torture the other. Slowly.” He grinned in a way that suggested he hoped they would test him.

Olivia shuddered and looked out the window. She couldn’t meet Logan’s eyes or she would start sobbing, and the man was sadistic enough that he’d probably count that as talking.

She lost track of time as they bounced along, the scenery passing by in a blur thanks to the tears in her eyes. This was it—she had failed. Not only would Avery and Mallory lose their lives due to her actions, but Logan was going to die, too, and in a painfully brutal way. The thought of it was overwhelming, and her body started to go numb—first her toes and fingers, then her ankles and wrists, the loss of sensation proceeding inward until she felt frozen over. A detached, clinical part of her brain recognized that she was going into shock, but there wasn’t anything she could do about it. She actually welcomed the reaction, since feeling nothing was preferable to the crippling weight of guilt.

The next thing she registered was being pulled out of the Jeep and dragged across a dirt yard. They’d thrown her into this small shack and left her, and she hadn’t seen them since.

Someone had brought food earlier—was it time for another meal? She shook her head, uncertain. The shack had a small opening near the roof that passed for a window, but the forest growth was so dense it was hard to tell if the low light illuminating the space was early morning or dusk. She was half tempted to try to open the door, but it wasn’t worth the risk. They hadn’t chained her up, and she didn’t want to give them a reason to. At least not yet.

Her stomach growled and she focused on her hunger, grateful for the distraction. Had anyone at the hospital missed her yet? Probably so, but it didn’t matter. They wouldn’t have any idea of what had happened or where to start looking. She was on her own.

And where was Logan? She had caught one final glimpse of him before they’d shut the door of the hut. He’d been standing in the middle of the yard, a gun to his head, men streaming out from the other buildings that lined the yard. He’d met her eyes for a brief instant, and she’d been struck by his defiance even in the face of such an onslaught. She’d fought to keep him in her sights, but the door had slammed shut, cutting them apart. And so she’d paced the confines of the shack, breath held, waiting to hear the shot that would signal the end of his life.

But it never came.

What was worse? she mused now, staring hard at the door. Dying outright, or being kept alive only to suffer?

And just why were they keeping her alive? She’d been puzzling over that little mystery since they’d brought her food ages ago. She wasn’t exactly in a hurry to die, but she did wonder why they were bothering to feed her. She had no value to them as a prisoner. If they knew Logan was a DEA agent, surely they knew she’d been bluffing about the strength of her connection to Fantasmas. It didn’t make sense for them to keep her around, unless... She shuddered, the leader’s words echoing in her ears.

My men are lonely.

Revulsion made her skin crawl and she rubbed her arms absently. If what he’d said was true, they’d just have to stay that way. Their arrival had clearly triggered interest among the men of this camp, but so far, their excitement had not turned to speculation. If it did, though...

I’ll fight.

She touched the solid weight of the gun, still tucked into the waistband of her scrubs. Fortunately, the top she wore fit her like a tent and had concealed the telltale bulge of the weapon. Even luckier, the men had underestimated her and hadn’t thought to search her before shoving her into the Jeep or into the shack. No one knew she was armed, but her advantage would only last as long as the gun remained undetected. She wanted to pull it out and examine it but didn’t dare. She didn’t know the first thing about guns and had no idea how to check if it was even loaded. With her luck, she’d accidentally fire the thing and alert the whole camp. No, better to keep it hidden for now.

If she could just figure out a way to get it to Logan, he’d know what to do. The thought of him gave her strength, and some of the numbness started to fade. He must still be alive—they would have come back for her otherwise. But how could she find him?

Her musings were interrupted by a commotion outside. Men started shouting and she heard the pounding of running feet in the yard. What was going on? She walked to the door and pressed her face up to the seam between the door and the frame, but she couldn’t make out much. Snatches of words came to her, but not enough for her to determine what had happened.

Please don’t let Logan be dead
. She repeated the thought over and over again, chanting it silently as the noise eventually died down.
He can’t be
, she thought, trying to reassure herself. Killing a DEA agent would have been cause for celebration in this camp, and that had sounded like something closer to distress. Whatever had happened, it probably hadn’t involved Logan.

Right?

She started pacing again, the steady movement both a distraction and a way to help focus her thoughts. Maybe she could contrive some way to get outside the shack, so she could get another view of the camp. She needed to find out exactly how many huts there were and, if possible, what function they served. Were they homes? Used for storage? Jail cells? Torture chambers?

They would probably bring her food again. Maybe she could get whoever delivered it to talk.

As soon as the thought formed in her mind, the sound of footsteps reached her ears. Someone was running and coming toward her, if the noises were to be believed.

Olivia backed away from the door, uncertainty making her stomach churn. Who was coming? What did they want with her?

The door opened with a slam, flooding the shack with light. She squinted against the brightness and made out a dark shape in the doorway.

“Come with me. Now.” His voice was urgent, and he stepped forward, clearly intending to grab her.

She stepped to the side and tucked her arms in close. “Why?” He could easily force her to go, but hopefully he would talk before resorting to that option.

“A man is injured. You are a doctor, yes?” Impatience crept into his tone and he made another reach for her.

“Yes,” she said, allowing him to take her by the arm. “But I don’t have any supplies.”

“We do.” He led her out of the shack and into the yard, pulling her toward another hut. She glanced around quickly, trying to count the number of huts. Five, six...no eight total, at least that she could see. She couldn’t tell if there were any behind her, but she’d be able to find out when they brought her back.

Which one held Logan?

Each hut looked like the others—small, worn, anonymous. There were no guards standing outside any of the doors, so it wasn’t immediately obvious which one was doubling as Logan’s prison.

“Come on,” the man said, pulling harder. They reached one of the larger buildings and he opened the door, pushing her in front of him.

Inside was a wall of bodies, men crammed shoulder to shoulder as they craned their necks and strained to see.

“Move!” her escort ordered. “I’ve brought the doctor.”

Somehow, the crowd was able to make enough space for her to squeeze through, and as she popped out at the other end of the wall, she saw what they’d been staring at.

A man was laid out on a bed, moaning softly. He was covered in black soot from head to toe, his ailment not immediately obvious under all the grime. But as Olivia got closer, she realized he wasn’t dirty.

He was
burned
.

The smell hit her then and she swallowed hard against a rising tide of bile.
Oh, God.

She knelt next to the bed, glancing over him and wondering where to start. His face, his arms—every inch of exposed skin was charred black. To make matters worse, his clothes had melted, fusing with his body. There was no way she could remove them without causing him unbearable pain, but she couldn’t leave them either—it would only invite infection.

Does it really matter?
she asked herself. The majority of his body had suffered third-degree burns. Even if he was in a top-notch hospital, his prognosis would be grim. Here, in the middle of the jungle? He would almost certainly die.

And when he did, what then? Would they blame her for failing to save him? Would they hurt Logan even more to punish her?

Her mind raced as she tried to figure out a way to help this man. There wasn’t much she could do for him, but perhaps she could ease his pain.

She opened her mouth to rattle off a list of supplies, but before she could get a word out, a woman burst into the room. She took one look at the man on the bed and fell to the floor, sobbing hysterically. She reached up and made to grab his hands, but Olivia stopped her before she could touch him.

“You can’t,” she said, feeling sorry for the woman. “It will only hurt him more.”

She didn’t know if the woman heard her, but she stopped trying to touch him. Instead, she gripped Olivia’s hands so hard she could feel her bones grind together. “Please, you have to save him.” She looked up and Olivia caught her first glimpse of the woman’s tear-stained face.

It was Maria.

* * *

Logan lowered his foot to the ground, gradually putting more weight on as he tested the joint. They’d smashed his ankle with a tire iron to keep him hobbled, and he hadn’t had a chance to stand on it yet. The joint felt huge and it throbbed in time with his heartbeat, but he had to know if it would support some of his weight. He’d jump out of here on one foot if he had to, but it would be a lot easier if he could limp.

He bit his lip to stifle a groan as his ankle protested. Pain shot up his leg and for a moment, he thought his ankle was going to give out altogether. But it held. Barely.

It would have to do. Once he found Olivia, she could help support him while they escaped.

Never mind that he didn’t know where she was being held or if she was okay. Never mind that he didn’t know how they were going to get out of here. His plan consisted of two steps: find Olivia and steal the Jeep. He hadn’t had the time or the energy to work out the finer details yet.

But he was going to find a way.

He glanced around the hut, but there wasn’t much to see. A small wooden table sat against the opposite wall. A thin gray mattress was on the floor to his right, a ceramic pot next to it. And that was it—just the barest necessities.

Dark stains on the floor testified to the history of this place. Clearly, these men had tortured people before. They seemed to enjoy it, too, if their attitude was any indication. They’d practically danced with glee when they’d brought in a large bag, its contents clinking. The leader had placed it on the table and had taken great pleasure in removing lethal-looking instruments one at a time, spreading them out so Logan could see what was in store for him.

His gut had cramped, but he hadn’t given them the satisfaction of showing fear. The leader hadn’t liked that. His eyes had narrowed with displeasure, but before he could start the torture session, a commotion outside had distracted him. There had been a knock at the door and another man had come inside, whispering a message into the leader’s ear. The leader had gone pale under his tan and practically run from the shack, leaving his minion behind to scoop up the instruments on his way out the door.

Logan glanced that way now, wondering if they’d left any guards outside his door. If the whole camp was distracted, this would be the perfect time to mount an escape.

He took a cautious step forward, and as he moved, the light glinted off something on the floor. He made his way over to the table and nearly laughed out loud.

A knife lay on the ground, its blade mostly covered by the fine dirt of the floor. It was one of the torture implements, and the minion must have dropped it in his haste to get out of the shack.

“Thanks, buddy,” Logan muttered as he knelt to retrieve the weapon. It wasn’t very big, but he tested the blade on the pad of his thumb and was pleased to find it was sharp.

He stepped to the door and pressed his ear against the wood, straining to hear the noises outside. Breathing, voices, the shuffling of feet—anything to indicate if there were guards stationed at the door. But he heard nothing. Holding his breath, he eased the door open and peered out.

The yard was deserted, but he could see the men clustered around a hut on the other side of the camp.
So that’s where all the action is.
He glanced around, trying to see if he could find where Olivia was located. But all the buildings were depressingly alike, yielding no clues as to their contents. He’d have to check out each one to find her.

So be it.

He eyed the closest shack, deciding to start there first. But before he could make a move, a man came out of the crowd and hurried across the yard, zeroing in on one of the shacks with the focus of a cruise missile. He flung open the door and stepped inside, and a moment later he popped out again, dragging Olivia by the arm.