Into the Blue Page 2

  “I’m helping people. People who don’t have access to medicine like you and me. And I’m reinvesting in the future of Syntec to ensure we deliver the most cutting edge medicine in the world—medicine that saves lives. I’m a hero.”

  “Why are you telling us this?”

  “It doesn’t matter now. Like I said, you won’t be saying anything to anyone.”

  A few moments later, two large men enter his office.

  “They no longer work here,” he says to them. “Please escort them from the building. I’ll call you with further instructions once you’re downstairs.”

  “Let go of me,” I clip, tugging my elbow away from the man who wraps his wide hand around my arm.

  “Can I at least get my things?” Jessica asks as they push us past her desk, but they ignore her and continue toward the service elevator.

  “You’re not going to let her get her purse? Or her phone?” I ask, glaring over my shoulder at Mr. Spencer. I don’t bother to ask if we can stop on the twentieth floor. My phone is in my pocket. I’ll call Derek as soon as we get outside.

  The elevator doors open to a quiet hallway that must be behind the main lobby, because it’s adjacent to a set of doors that open to the loading dock behind the building. At least Marc had the decency to not embarrass us by ushering us out the main doors. The lobby is always buzzing with people, who would surely be wondering what we’ve done to deserve a security escort.

  Once we’re outside, I inhale a deep breath of the warm summer air, relieved to be free from our man-handlers. I widen my eyes at Jessica, giving her a small, reassuring smile. “It’ll be fine. Derek will take care of this. Come on.”

  Thick fingers wrap around my arm again. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  I yank my elbow away from him. “That’s not really any of your concern, is it?”

  “Oh, but it is.” He pulls me over to a blacked-out SUV that’s parked nearby and pushes me inside the backseat. Jessica is tossed in after me and we’re quickly shut in behind the dark tinted windows.

  I pull on the door handle, but it won’t open. “What do you think you’re doing?” I ask, trying to unlock it.

  He ignores me, gets in the driver’s seat, and pulls away from the building onto the busy New York street. He holds his phone to his ear and speaks quietly into it, before hanging up.

  “Where are you taking us?” Jessica asks nervously.

  “To the airport,” he answers.

  “The airport?” I say incredulously. “Why?”

  “Mr. Spencer wants you to meet one of his business associates. He says you’re already familiar with some of their transactions. He’s going to fly you in his private jet.”

  “What? No!” Jessica shouts. “Please, just let us go,” she begs.

  My heart pounds inside my chest as my anger turns to fear. This can’t be happening. I cut my eyes to Jessica and pull my phone out of my pocket, laying it on the seat between us. I tap the screen, pulling up my last text message from Callie, and type as quickly as I can, giving her as much information as I can, so that Derek can locate the Mexican account and hopefully find out where we’re being taken. After I hit send, I wrap my hand around my phone and push it up my sleeve. “Can you lower the window? I feel like I’m going to be sick.”

  The men look at each other and then lower my window.

  I hang my arm outside for a few seconds and let my phone fall to the street, so they won’t know I texted for help. “I feel better now.” I pull my arm back inside and watch the tinted glass move up, shading my face from the bright midday sun and from the sounds of the busy city.

  I take note of every turn, every street...but once we’re out of the city, I no longer recognize my surroundings. We ride in silence until the SUV finally comes to a stop at a small airport—a landing strip really—in the middle of a wide open field. There are only a couple of small planes on the tarmac and one tiny, windowless building.

  Jessica’s door opens first and to my horror, I watch one of the men shove a syringe into her arm. She gives me a panicked look, but it quickly disappears as she passes out.

  I frantically pull on my door handle as the man reaches across the seat for me. I kick and claw at him, screaming as he drags me out of the SUV, but the sudden pinch in my arm makes everything fade to black.

  * * *

  The steady motion of a moving car jostles me awake, but something’s covering my face. I can only see glimpses of light when I look down. I try to lift my hand, but it’s tied to the seatbelt buckle beside my hip. I twist my wrist against the restraint and feel another hand tied to mine. I reach for it with my fingers. “Jessica,” I whisper, tapping her fingers with mine. “Jessica,” I say again, squeezing her hand, but it’s cold. Too cold. My heart pounds inside my chest and my blood pulses behind my ears. “Jessica,” I whisper again, but tears streak my concealed face when she doesn’t answer.

  I’m abruptly forced against the seat in front of me as the car slams to a stop. The driver and passenger doors both creak open and I hear two men speaking Spanish, but I don’t understand what they’re saying. The rear doors open and I freeze. One of the men leans across me and cuts the restraint that’s tying me to the seat. He grabs my arm and yanks me out of the car, and the ties dig into my flesh as the weight of Jessica’s body drags across the seat behind me. He pulls me to my feet and she falls to the ground, pulling me down too, but he cuts my hand free from hers and jerks me up. He pulls the shroud from my face and I’m blinded by glaring sunlight that beats hot against my skin.

  I blink as my eyes adjust to the light, until I realize I’m standing in the middle of a desert. My foggy head spins as I try to orient myself. There are figures surrounding me—men, from what I can tell by their physical build and clothes. But their faces are covered with black-and-white masks, each one depicting a different artfully painted skull, some with added details of vibrant red, blue, and green. They’re terrifyingly beautiful.

  One of them orders, “Get rid of the dead girl. But take that one to Quintero.” He speaks English, but a thick Spanish accent clings to his words.

  I look at Jessica crumpled on the ground next to the car, her face still covered with a brown burlap sack. I feel sick, but I force myself to take note of my surroundings. We were in a black Mercedes with tinted windows. There’s a make-shift doorway in the sand hill to my left and a tattered cloth is hanging from the opening.

  One of the masked men grips my arm and pulls me toward it, and two more flank its opening. They’re holding guns and smoking cigarettes through the holes in their masks. They say something to me in Spanish as I pass them and the only word I understand is “puta.” I’m pretty sure it means bitch. They laugh and my stomach twists into knots as I’m pushed along a dark tunnel to a dimly lit room at the far end. The dusty walls are cinderblock and there’s a bare mattress laying on the dirt floor next to a foggy glass that has smoke rising from it. The man shoves me down onto the mattress and twists my hands behind my back, tying them together as I kick and claw at him.

  “Don’t move!” he orders, shoving another syringe into my arm, and once again, I’m silenced.

  * * *

  My eyelids are heavy, but I fight against them. Blurs of colors move around me and my groggy mind loops in circles. I’m unable to form a solid thought. I can’t think...I can barely feel. I close my eyes and focus on my dulled senses, but each one pulls me in a different direction: The low murmur of voices speaking a language I don’t understand. The stinging pain that licks my wrists whenever I try to move. The darkness that envelops me, sliding from one side of my foggy mind to the other. The sickly sweet smell of smoke that lingers around my face, filling my nose and mouth with spice.

  Salty sweat traces the edges of my lips and my body heaves reflexively at the taste, but it offers little relief from the misery I’m chained to. I force my eyes open and try to make sense of the muffled sounds around me. Someone’s—I struggle to remember the word—yelling. I don’t u
nderstand what’s being shouted and the frustration of being unable to think makes my head throb. So...thirsty.

  “Water,” I rasp.

  Something covers my mouth, pressing hard against my face, and the blurs of light and color turn to total darkness.

  “Shhh...quiet, mami,” a man’s voice whispers in my ear, and I feel the wet heat of his breath against my cheek.

  “Water,” I beg, barely hearing my own voice.

  Moments later I’m choking and coughing and licking precious droplets of water from my lips.

  “More,” I beg, desperate to extinguish the dry burn in my throat.

  “No más,” he says, climbing on top of me.

  I twist my hips away from him, ignoring the pain that cuts into my wrists, but I’m pinned beneath his heavy body. Panic washes over me, breaking through the fog that layers my thoughts, and adrenaline courses through my limbs like lightning, sharpening my senses. I pull my knees up and feel his legs between mine, and I’m suddenly aware of his wet mouth on my neck. “Stop,” I say, finding my voice. “Stop,” I say louder, squirming and pulling hard against the restraints that are cutting into me.

  His weight leaves me, but only for a moment. It returns, along with the blurs of light and color that surround his olive face and dark, beady eyes. He squeezes my cheeks and breathes against my lips, “Bella gringa. You are mine now.” He moves his mouth to my neck and I feel the cool metal of his necklace dragging across my bare breasts.

  “No,” I cry, squeezing my eyes shut, but there’s no escape. His warm breath cleaves to my skin and his rough hand leaves a ravaging trail across my stomach. I turn my head to his and bite down hard, tasting the blood I draw from his ear.

  He lets out a roar and strikes my jaw, and the blow makes me see red through the blackness I’m slipping into. My foggy mind swirls around the pain, until it centers on a new pain—something sharp pressing against my neck, digging and cutting at my flesh. “You are mine,” he growls, pushing my thighs apart with his knees.

  “Help,” I cry, desperately trying to find my voice again. “Help,” I call again, to God this time, because I think He’s the only one who can hear me. I close my eyes and surrender to the blackness, but it doesn’t take me. I can still feel. I can still hear. Voices. Beside me, yelling.

  The man’s weight leaves me, but a new stabbing pain in my stomach pulls me back to the light. My body curls around it as a deafening blast rings in my ears, and for a moment everything is quiet.

  The darkness reaches for me again, numbing my senses. I can only feel the cold that’s wrapped around me like a blanket, protecting me from the searing pain that’s radiating from my stomach.

  “You’re safe now,” a calm voice says, breaking through the darkness. But it can’t stop the cold that’s burning through my veins with the force of a winter storm. I lie down on the snow-covered ground and let it consume me.

  Something crushes my chest.

  Again...and again.

  I can’t fight it.

  “Stay with me,” the voice rings clear once again. It’s calm and steady. And warm.

  I get up off the freezing ground and move toward it, letting it heat my face and fill my chest.

  “Kellan, we’ve got to go.”

  I use all the strength I can gather to crack my eyes open, and I see a blurred figure hovering over me. A man... dark hair... fiery blue eyes gazing down at me. He wipes his mouth with a bloodstained hand as a warm breath leaves my lungs.

  “Don’t...leave...me.”

  “Kellan, we have to go now!”

  “I’m not going to leave you,” he says to me, collecting me in his arms, and the motion makes the fog swirl through my head once again.

  I close my eyes and surrender to the blackness.

  Chapter 2

  Kellan, One Month Earlier

  I hide under the kitchen table, listening to her scream from the other room, “Kellan! Where are you?” I watch her knock the chairs out of the way and then she’s grabbing my hair and pulling me to my feet.

  “I’m sorry, Mommy, I’m sorry.”

  “My name is Marissa.” She shoves me down and my elbow smashes into the floor, blinding me with pain that makes me see red and wakes me from the dream.

  I sit up on the couch and reach for my phone, which is vibrating on the edge of the coffee table. “Hello?”

  “Kellan, I have a proposition for you.”

  The last time Derek Bishop had a proposition for me, I ended up taking his sister to our senior prom. Of course, that was over ten years ago.

  “What kind of proposition?”

  “Well, you know how I’m overseeing the research division at Syntec now?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m working with a doctor at Stanford who will be leading a research expedition for a project I’m working on, and I could use your help.”

  “My help? With what?”

  “Protection. For him and his team.”

  “What are they researching?”

  “Plant compounds that can be used in medicine. New medicine, hopefully. He’s a pharmaceutical botanist. And an MD, which will be beneficial to the locals.”

  “Where are they headed?”

  “An island off the coast of Costa Rica. La Isla Azul.”

  The blue island.

  “I’ve never heard of it.”

  “I wouldn’t expect you have. It’s a refuge, a sanctuary protected from tourists and the rest of the world. Other than the residents of a small fishing village, it’s basically uninhabited. The Costa Rican government only allows access to it for research and education.”

  “Then what do they need protecting from?”

  “The Latin American drug cartel. You know as well as I do how dangerous South America can be without the protection of borders. Places like Peru, Columbia, and Nicaragua have been known to use the island to stash drugs on their way up to the states because it isn’t policed.”

  “So you want me to go with this doctor to Costa Rica and do what? Sleep in a tent and follow him around with a gun while he looks for plants?”

  “No tents. There are a few vacation homes on the island that were left empty when the government sanctioned it a decade ago. They refurbished one of them for groups like ours to use. I’m not promising the Four Seasons, but it should be sufficient for everyone.”

  “Who’s everyone?”

  “Dr. Paul Hernandez, Mia Lawrence, and Jason Walker.”

  “And they’re all plant doctors?”

  “Mia and Jason are plant pathologists. Mia’s also studying to be a physician. They’re both in Dr. Hernandez’s mentoring program at Stanford. They’re young in their field, but Dr. Hernandez made a strong case for them. He’s been leading expeditions like this for the last twenty years, so I trust his judgement.”

  “It’s just the three of them?”

  “Yes, but I need you to find two more recruits. Maybe Adam and one of your other military buddies.”

  “You haven’t even convinced me to do this.”

  “Why do you need convincing? It’s three months in paradise.”

  “Three months?” I say incredulously.

  “It’ll be like a vacation.”

  “Will there be air-conditioning on this vacation?”

  “No.”

  “Hot water?”

  “Not necessarily.”

  “Then it’s no vacation.”

  “Kellan, look. I know the last year has been hard on you, after what happened in Afghanistan. Maybe it would be good for you to get away from everything for a while. Reset. Soak up the sun. Wander around a rainforest in the middle of nowhere. Surf.”

  “I haven’t surfed in a while.”

  “I’ll actually be paying you to surf every day.”

  “Will there be food? First aid? I don’t want to die of an infection from a mosquito bite.”

  “Yes, of course. We’re actually setting up a rudimentary clinic where Dr. Hernandez can treat the locals who live
in the fishing village. Speaking of which, your Spanish might come in handy.”

  I get up from Adam’s couch and look around his one-bedroom apartment, where I’ve been living for the last few months. We spent the last few years holed up together in Afghanistan, but at least I had my own bed. “Okay.”

  “You’ll do it?”

  “Yes,” I say tentatively.

  “But not alone,” he insists.

  “Why?”

  “I know you’re tough, Kellan, and you’ve seen a lot—oorah and all that—but if something were to happen, if you were to encounter someone...without numbers, it could be bad. You need to bring company. At least two other guys. Military trained. They’ll be paid well, you can assure them. I trust your judgement in choosing them.”

  Adam walks into the room, yawning.

  “Let me get back to you, Derek.”

  “Okay.”

  I hang up the phone and call to the kitchen, “Hey, Adam, I have a proposition for you.”

  * * *

  I duck my head below the helicopter blades and squint behind my sunglasses as I make my way through the tall grass that’s thrashing around in the wind.

  “You must be Kellan,” a gray-haired man says to me, extending his hand. “Derek said you were tall.”

  “Kellan James,” I say, shaking his hand.

  “It’s good to meet you, Kellan. I’m Dr. Paul Hernandez.”

  I glance up at the tall, green mountains behind him and wipe the sweat from my forehead.

  “It’s the humidity,” he says, smiling. “It takes some time to get used to.”

  I nod and look over my shoulder at Adam. “This is Adam Sinclair.”

  “Adam”—he shakes his hand—“I heard you served as a combat medic during your time with the Marines.”

  “I did.”

  “Well, I’m sure we’ll benefit from having you here. Mia is in the medical program at Stanford,” he says proudly, nodding to the pretty, brown-eyed brunette standing behind him.

  She smiles and extends her hand to Adam. “Hi, I’m Mia.”

  “Mia”—he shakes her hand and smiles wide—“that’s a beautiful name.”