of the jeep, dusty, the gash on his forehead matching the one he’d put on Anna’s. However, the rage in his eyes turned Cassidy’s satisfaction back to terror.
She was dead.
His fist shot out and connected with her left eye and cheekbone. Pain exploded, bright lights flashed, then darkness blanketed her.
Cassidy awoke and choked back an agonized moan as the ropes bit into the tender skin of her wrists. She lay on her right side, her cheek pressed into the dirt while her heart beat in time with her pounding head. She couldn’t decide what hurt more—cheek, eye, hip or wrists.
With the return of consciousness came memory. Unfortunately, memory brought forth such a surge of terror she gasped.
She’d been kidnapped.
Oh, Lord, help me. Give me the strength to endure. Be with Alexis. Cassidy whispered the prayer then inched her way to sit up as straight as her bonds would allow. She tried to shift into a more comfortable position.
Impossible.
With her hands bound behind her, fire shot along every muscle in her shoulders, arms and back, her body protesting the strain of being in one position for too long. A bead of sweat dripped off her chin; her head throbbed harder and nausea churned.
Gritting her teeth, she gathered every ounce of strength and managed to shift into a sitting position. Panting from her efforts, she dropped her head to bent knees and told herself to keep breathing.
Finally, the nausea eased and she dragged her head up to look around. Misshapen boards were stacked on top of each other and nailed haphazardly to keep them from falling in. Through the slits in the walls, she could see movement. Shifting closer to lean against the wall, she looked out. A dark-headed, dark-eyed preteen was cooking over a campfire, occasionally turning the meat on the skewer. Cassidy sucked in a sharp breath. Next to the young girl stood the man Cassidy had kicked out of the jeep. Rafael, they’d called him.
She watched, unable to pull her gaze from the sight before her. This man, this rebel, leaned over and gently kissed the top of the girl’s head. The girl looked up, smiled and said something. Cassidy couldn’t understand all of it, but caught the word, Papai. That awful man was a father? Ugh. Oh, what are these people doing to their children, Lord?
Cassidy shook her head and pain splintered through it. She gasped out a groan and waited. When the throbbing faded, she looked out once again. Garlic, peppers and other spices tantalized her. Dogs barked and children played soldier, shooting each other with toy guns fashioned from sticks.
Several older preteens carried the real thing.
Cassidy shuddered; fear clawed up her spine.
Did anyone other than her kidnappers know she was here? She bent her shoulders forward. No relief. Cassidy looked through the widest crack again. Rustic huts, no electricity, no phone lines. She felt caught in a time warp…surrounded only by towering trees, a rushing river and the occasional monkey calling to its mate.
Oh, God, please get me out of this! And get us out before Mom hears I’ve disappeared. Please, God, first Micah and now me. She’ll die. Literally.
Micah, a Navy SEAL on a mission, had disappeared two years ago, and the navy had declared him dead, based on the report of one of Micah’s fellow SEALs. Her father continued to search and her mother swore Micah was just on an extended mission. And now this.
The door opened and a short, round, dark-skinned woman with gray-streaked black hair stepped inside. Silent, flat, black eyes stared and Cassidy swallowed hard. The bruise above her left eye continued to throb and the nausea returned with a vengeance.
She muffled a groan, regretting her brief fit of temper in the jeep. Shaking uncontrollably, she focused on the figure in front of her. As though by magic, a knife appeared in her visitor’s hand. Cassidy inhaled sharply and shrank back. Unable to tear her eyes from the fearsome weapon, she waited for the worst.
The old woman stepped toward her and shifted the knife higher.
“No, please.” Cassidy meant it to be a scream, but only managed a weak whimper.
The woman moved behind her and Cassidy held her breath, expecting to feel the knife plunge between her shoulder blades. Instead, there was a slight tug and her hands popped free.
Agonizing pain sucked the air from her lungs as her muscles screamed their protest at the sudden movement. Tears filled her eyes again, but this time she refused to make a sound.
A short grunt brought her attention up to the face in front of her. The woman motioned for her to follow. Cassidy stood, swaying slightly. Her stomach protested, her eye throbbed, her legs shook, but she obeyed. I can do all things…
“Tell me why I’m here, please,” she asked in English with a surprisingly steady voice.
Another grunt answered her.
Cassidy sighed and looked around. No way to escape; no weapon to be found. She had already examined every inch of the small hut and other than a lumpy-looking cot with a blanket, the place was empty.
Once outside the dark hut, the bright sunlight intensified the throbbing in her aching head. She bit her lip. What she wouldn’t give for a sip of water and a painkiller. Rubbing her rope-burned wrists, she stumbled after the woman to a small hill that held—of all things—an outhouse.
Although grateful for the moment of privacy, she wrinkled her nose and held her breath as she finished her business as quickly as possible. She opened the door to find the woman waiting with a small canteen.
“Água.” The word came out as a grunt, but Cassidy understood. She eagerly grabbed the container, put it to her mouth and drank slowly; small sips to quench her thirst, but not enough to make her sick. The nausea subsided.
“Obrigada,” she said. Thank you. With a shaky hand, she wiped her mouth and asked in Portuguese, the official language of Brazil, “Who are you?”
“Maria.” Just one word, but at least it wasn’t a grunt.
The woman’s dark eyes never changed from their dull flat expression, but her face softened by a fraction. Again, Maria motioned for Cassidy to follow. Again, Cassidy obeyed. The woman’s girth should have made her clumsy; instead, she moved quietly and gracefully, skirting over the rough ground.
As she followed, Cassidy tried to formulate an escape plan. She had to get out of here. She had to get back to Alexis. The poor baby must be scared to death. All the adults in her life kept deserting her.
But the question was—where was here?
Cassidy cherished the few precious moments of exercise on the way back to her “prison.” Never in her wildest dreams would she have imagined that her mission of mercy would land her in the middle of a rebel camp deep in the Brazilian Amazon jungle. Confusion reigned. Why me, Lord? It wasn’t a complaint, but a sincere question. What did they want with her?
“Eat. Entende?”
Cassidy blinked. Yes, she understood.
She entered the hut and noticed a plate full of food on the old cot. Her stomach rumbled, but no way was she sitting on those bug-infested blankets. Cassidy grabbed the plate, made sure no little
