She caught herself, her foot slipping out of the stirrup. She righted herself, her eyes widening enormously.
There, standing in front of them, were four men of varying heights, with hard looks in their eyes. They each carried a weapon. Gulping, Aly gripped the reins.
Juan came up alongside her, patting her leg as if trying to calm her. Despite his effort, she shivered, feeling terror.
The men glared at her. They were tough and their expressions were unreadable.
One, with black hair and brown eyes, wore two bandoliers of bullets across his chest. The tallest one, a white man with a bald head, narrowed his green eyes and slowly raked her from her head to her breasts.
Her heartbeat quickened. Aly held tightly to the reins, trying to understand the situation. No doubt, these were soldiers. She realized they might be the drug soldiers she’d always heard about, but had never seen in the past two years.
“¡Hola!” Juan said, holding up his hand. “Can we help you?” he asked with a friendly smile.
The bald man ignored him. “Are you Allison Landon?” he demanded of Aly in a deep voice.
Aly blinked, feeling shaky, adrenaline leaking into her bloodstream. “Y-yes, I am. Who are you?” she asked in her best, firm voice.
The bald man grinned, revealing that two of his front teeth were missing.
“Barrosa!”
The man with the bandoliers crossing his massive chest moved forward. His eyes focused on Juan, he walked quickly toward him, pulled the pistol out of his holster and shot the smiling Indian in the head.
Aly screamed.
Her horse jerked, shying away, unseating her.
Aly fell hard to the path. In her peripheral vision, she saw Juan crumple, half his head gone. She’d been spattered by the pink mist, the brain matter clinging to her lower smock and across her thigh. Gasping, she stared at Juan, a sob wrenching from her as she tried to get to her feet.
The man who had shot Juan reached down, grabbed her by her ponytail and jerked her roughly to her feet.
Pain radiated from her scalp and Aly grunted. Her hands flew toward her head. She was yanked forward, nearly losing her footing again on the muddy path. Sobbing, she was pushed down onto her hands and knees in front of the bald soldier, who smiled. But the smile didn’t reach his dead-looking green eyes.
“Why are you doing this?” Aly shrieked, trying to rise. “You killed Juan! You killed him! How could you!”
The bald soldier’s hand snapped out like a snake strike and grabbed her by her shoulder as she got to her feet. “Allison Landon,” he snarled into her face, “do you want to live? Or do you want to join your friend on the ground with a bullet through your head?”
Tears poured out of her eyes and Aly choked, whispering, “N-no, don’t kill me...”
Her mind gyrated. In shock, terrified and grief-stricken by Juan’s murder, Aly tried to stand still. Her chest was rising and falling with sobs she couldn’t control. They’d killed Juan! He’d been a gentle man, a beautiful soul whose only mission had been to make life better for his tribe.
The soldier’s powerful fingers dug deep into her shoulder and the pain radiated outward. Whimpering, Aly tried to escape him, but his fingers only dug deeper. She stopped, trembling, her eyes on his. She saw nothing but a vat of dead green, swampy darkness. There was no leniency, no compassion in this man. Aly tried to stop sobbing. Tried to stop crying, but she couldn’t completely control her emotions.
“You are now the property of Don Gervasio Duarte.” He smiled a little. “Do you know who he is?”
Aly barely nodded, feeling some relief of his fingers digging into her shoulder. If she stood still, if she tried to stop crying, the pain eased. “I—I’ve heard of him...a local drug lord...”
His eyes glittered. “Very good, señorita. You are much smarter than I thought. Now, you are being a good girl. Fight me, try to escape, and I will hurt you. I will rape you. Do you understand?” He leered at her.
His breath was a foul mixture of fish and garlic. Wincing, Aly closed her eyes and turned her face away from his. Instantly his fingers grasped her. She winced, cried out and faced him. His grip eased a little.
“I am Oleg Rusak, Don Duarte’s chief of security. You will remember me. You will always obey me in an instant. If you do not, I will hurt you. ¿Comprende?”
Aly risked a look at the other four soldiers. They were grinning. Their faces were sweat-soaked, dirty and the sour smell of their bodies almost made her gag. “Wh-what do you want?” she whispered brokenly.
Instantly, Rusak’s fingers dug so deep it took Aly to her knees.
Rusak crouched in front of her, his face filled with rage. “You have no voice, bitch! You do not ask questions! You live to obey Don Duarte and me.”
Whimpering, the agony making her lean into his hand, her face so close to his, Aly cried out, “Y-yes, yes, I hear you!”
Rusak released her and stood. “Good. Now get up. You are nothing more than a slave to Don Duarte. You will know your place. You speak only when spoken to. If he tells you to do something, you do it. You never speak unless he asks you to. Understand?”
Yes, she understood, rubbing her shoulder that was surely deeply bruised and currently throbbing. “I understand,” she whispered. What was going to happen to her? Oh, God, she was in such trouble. And no one knew. No one would miss her until she failed to check in this evening by satellite phone with the office in Manaus.
“Mount that horse,” Rusak growled. “And if you think you can kick that animal and gallop away from us, think about this—” He held the AK-47 up in front of her face. “First, we will shoot the horse out from under you. And then—” he grinned a little “—I will tell my men to watch as I rip off your clothes and take you down on this trail.” He rubbed his crotch with his soiled hand, all the while, staring at her. “If you fight, my man will hold your arms above your head. The other one will spread your legs and I will enjoy having my way with you.” He reached out and ran his large hand around the curve of her breast.
Startled, Aly gasped and jerked away.
Rusak slapped her.
Her head exploded. She saw stars behind her eyes; felt her legs crumple beneath her. Aly didn’t even remember hitting the hard, muddy ground. Moments later she woke, her cheek in the cooling mud. She felt more than saw Rusak walk over to her. She barely opened her eyes to stare uncomprehendingly at his large, muddy combat boots. Her head spun. She couldn’t think, her cheek smarting with excruciating pain.
Rusak leaned down, grabbing her by the shoulder and hauled her up with one jerk of his arm. Aly was wobbly as he roughly brought her against him. He smiled down into her cloudy eyes. “You are a slave. You will allow Don Duarte to touch you anytime he wants. If he thinks you are good for his bed, then you will go without a fight and you will please him.” Rusak sneered. “Because if you do not please him, Allison Landon, then he gives his cast-off women to me. And I guarantee you, little girl, you will have met the devil. I will not be kind or gentle with you. Understand?”
