Damn it.
Informants had already clarified that there’d been a screwup at the hospital that resulted in the wrong child being taken. Something about the wrong file attached to the wrong basinet or playpen or whatever the hell they were using. The whole system was a hodgepodge mess, with patients dying, new arriving, faster than a makeshift, understaffed hospital could handle.
Excuses.
Punishments would be doled out later. Right now? Nothing mattered but ensuring the safety of the child they’d taken and protecting the identity of the organization.
A groan sounded from inside the bushes. A quick search through the leafy green underbrush showed… Oliver bound by his hands and feet, lying on his side. His face was bruised, his eyes both angry and fearful.
“What the hell is going on here?” A ridiculous question to ask, since the man was gagged with his own bandanna. Tearing off the hemp ropes and swiping away the rag from Oliver’s mouth, the Guardian asked again, “What happened here? Where’s the little boy? And the woman?”
When the van exploded, had Tandi or the extra woman they’d picked up died?
“Tandi… They…” Oliver swallowed and swiped his wrist across his mouth. “Tandi is dead. The others… got away.”
Got away? This wasn’t making sense. But the clearing was disturbed, undergrowth trampled from lots of foot traffic. And where were Oliver’s weapons? “You and Tandi were both overpowered by a woman with a child?”
Oliver stood slowly, stretching after being bound for so long. Except his unease seemed to be rooted in something else, something more. His eyes darted around like two bees unable to settle on a flower. “She, uh, had a man with her.”
Anger simmered through the confusion. “When you picked up the child, you kidnapped a woman and a man? And you didn’t bother to tell me this when you and Tandi checked in.”
He rubbed his neck. “The man got into the back of the van as we were driving away.” His words picked up speed. “We tried to control him with the gun, but he rushed the front of the van and…”
“You screwed up.”
“He was military, trained; there are soldiers crawling everywhere around here.” Oliver stepped closer, tipping his head confidentially while eyeing the wreckage site even though there clearly wasn’t anyone alive to hear. “Perhaps this isn’t the best time and we should put our runs on hold—”
The Guardian whipped out a gun and leveled it at his big, fat, incompetent head. “You don’t decide who and when. We’re needed now. Our troops are needed now. And I’m wondering if you even have the same goals anymore, if your motivation for taking the woman was… less than necessary.”
Oliver started shaking, his lying eyes wide. “No, I would never—”
The gun pressed deeper. “Did you take the woman because you had to or because you wanted to? What did you intend to do with her?”
The stench of sweat, the smell of fear, radiated off Oliver’s skin as his mouth worked soundlessly.
“Don’t even bother answering. I can see it in your traitorous eyes.”
The bastard.
The Guardian pulled the trigger.
***
Hugh checked and rechecked his guns until he felt like his teammate Bubbles. Going through the motions instinctively helped restore order to his mind after a long night keeping watch to make sure no stray animals—or people—found their camp.
Although that was the easy part. It had been much tougher tamping down thoughts of the past he’d dredged up for God only knew what reason.
He’d all but opened a vein last night, pouring out more than he had to anyone. He still wasn’t sure why he’d said as much to her anyway. There was something about her, had been from the second he looked into her cornflower blue eyes. But he didn’t have it in him to go there again, especially not so soon.
Today, he needed to hold it together better as they approached “civilization” again. He lined up the weapons, his knife and Oliver’s. His 9 mm and the two SIG Sauers from the van. He hoped like hell he wouldn’t need to use them. But between the wild animals running loose in the jungle and the lawlessness running just as out of control, he couldn’t be too careful.
With luck, by noon they would arrive at the outer city limits. Once there, he would notify someone with security forces to pick up Oliver and question him. To find out what the hell had happened back at the hospital.
And then he would get Amelia and Joshua the rest of the way to the security of town—and onto the first military cargo plane out of here.
He tucked his 9 mm back in the holster and one of the two extra guns in his vest. His knife was strapped to his leg. The others would go to Amelia. He trusted she would do what she needed to if necessary. If she’d had one or the other back at the hospital, he felt certain she would have used them to protect Joshua.
His eyes slid to the little boy on the beach. The first rays of morning stretched over the seaside patch of sand. Joshua ran in figure eights through the sand, his diaper in place again, the tiny T-shirt on his body again. The palm tree and bird spelling out Bahamas. He’d almost worn out his leaf shoes already.