in fact, no communication at all. It had only been because of Antonio and his contacts on the island that they’d been able to discover where she was being held in the first place. But his gut told him if they stepped back into that camp a second time, the chances of them coming out alive would greatly diminish. And money was the only bargaining chip he had at the moment.
He waited while Antonio spoke with them. He knew the reasoning behind not paying ransoms. Instead of freedom, it gave terrorists both publicity and cash. And ransom payment led to future kidnapping and, in turn, additional ransom payments. But that was all theoretical and easy to defend when you weren’t the one standing in the middle of nowhere with a gun pointed at your head.
“They said you’ll have to speak with Oumar back at the camp. He’s the one in charge,” Antonio said, his jaw tensed.
A radio crackled, and one of the men started talking as they motioned them into the forested inlet. Grant picked up Ana and hurried beside Maddie as they headed back toward the camp. Prayers that he normally struggled finding the words for suddenly flowed.
We’re in over our heads, God. And I’m the one responsible to get Maddie—to get all of them—out of here alive. I’m running out of options and to be honest could use some help.
He glanced at Maddie as they followed the men deeper into the woods. Asking for help, from anyone, had always been hard for him. Maybe that had been his problem all along. With his parents. With Darren...
The voice on the other end of their captor’s radio shouted, the words distorted. Urgent. Grant glanced at Antonio, wishing they were speaking in Portuguese so he could understand what had happened.
“Rapido!” One of the men hit Grant against the back of his legs with the butt of his rifle. “Hurry!”
“What’s going on?” Grant asked.
“I don’t know,” Antonio said. “There’s been some kind of accident.”
Grant calculated their odds of escaping as they started back through the forest. White light from a flashlight created shadows among the trees. There was no way they were going to be able to overpower six armed men. They’d have to follow orders. For now.
Grant glanced at Maddie and caught the fear in her eyes. And he didn’t blame her. Every time he’d walked out to clear a minefield, a part of him had known he could be taking his last step. But she was used to preventing death as a doctor. Not facing it head-on.
Five minutes later they were back at the camp. Someone shouted. Several of the men ran toward them carrying a body across the courtyard. One of the petrol lanterns caught the face of the young boy. He couldn’t be much older than ten or eleven, ebony skin, full lips, dark eyes...
It was the eyes that stopped Grant cold.
The boy’s gaze ripped through him. He could read the pain and panic on his face, but there was something more. Something in his eyes that seared through Grant, as if the boy knew that what happened in the next few frightful moments would determine whether or not he would live or die. Because he’d seen that same look before. He’d seen it in Darren’s gaze the day he’d died.
Nightmare images he’d tried to erase flashed in front of him. While they’d known the dangers of their job, a small part of them had always held on to the belief that they were invincible. Because if they’d let themselves believe death was going to win, they’d never have stepped out into those fields.
But they’d been wrong.
One miscalculated move had killed his best friend.
Grant set Ana down on a mat as the men laid the boy on a table and shouted at Maddie. He forced himself to take a second look, because the boy’s haunted countenance wasn’t the only thing that had left his heart racing. Blood soaked through a cloth wrapped around his thigh. The boy’s leg—from his knee down—was gone.
He was in Afghanistan again. He could still see the flashes of an explosion, hear Darren’s screams. His best friend had become one of the statistics. Sixty million mines were still left unexploded in seventy countries...sixty-five people maimed or killed every day...
He forced his mind to focus on what was going on.
“Get me some more light,” Maddie shouted as she started cutting off the clothing around the wound.
“What can I do?” Grant asked.
“We need to get the wound cleaned and covered. There’s clean, boiled water, covered in pots behind you.” Her hands shook as she turned to one of the men. “I’ll do everything I can to save your son, but I want you to promise to let us go once I get him stabilized.”
“You’re in no position to bargain, because I’m the only one keeping you alive right now,” he said, holding her gaze. “So if my son dies...you will all die.”
Grant held up one of the lanterns in order to give Maddie the light she needed to work. He avoided the boy’s panicked gaze, trying unsuccessfully to distance himself emotionally from the situation. His emergency training had taught him the basics of what to do, but the clinical instructions were never the same as experiencing them firsthand.
Especially when it was personal.
“What’s his name?” Maddie asked the older man in Portuguese.
“Jose.”
“Jose... I’m going to do everything I can to help you, but I need you to stay strong. I need you to say with me.”
Memories flashed. With Darren, he and his teammates had done everything they could to save his life. But by the time the helicopter had arrived to evacuate them, too much time had passed. Darren had gone into shock, and it had been too late to save him.
“You need to get him to a hospital.” Maddie addressed the father while she worked to control the bleeding with direct pressure. “I can try to stabilize him—for now—but he’ll die out here in the bush without proper medical treatment.”
The older man’s fingers gripped edge of the table where his son lay. “I warned you, and I meant it. If my son dies... I will kill you.”
“You’re not listening to me.” Maddie added another layer of fabric around the wound. “I don’t have the antibiotics, let alone the tools to do vascular repairs. And if he makes it, he’ll need outpatient and occupational therapy to regain as much function as possible. I can’t do any of that here. You’ve got a plane... It’s your only way to save his life.”
“Oumar...” A woman ran up to where they were working and let out a loud wail when she saw the boy. “Oumar, no...they told me what happened. What have you done to our boy?” She turned to the older man and started beating his chest. “You let this happen to him.”
He grabbed her hands, ordering her to stop. “I haven’t done anything. He knows better than to go play in the woods.”
“You’re his mother?” Maddie asked.
“Yes.” The woman pulled away from her husband and grabbed the hand of her son, her dark eyes filled with panic.
