Chapter 2
The erratic pounding of my pulse in my ears is alarming. So is the tremor in my legs.
“Camile!”
I cringe. Belle’s looking for me.
When I raise the plastic bottle of Deer Park water to my lips, my hands are shaking and my lips are quivering. I have to fight to make them intersect. The tepid liquid fills my mouth and chokes its way down to my stomach.
Please let it stay down this time.
I clear my throat. “Coming!” There’s a bitter, coppery taste in my mouth. The flavor of fear. I’ve lived with it my whole life.
No training in the world could have bolstered me enough for this. With a shaking hand, I mop the sweat off my face.
It’s boiling hot and it’s only nine in the morning. Humidity at one hundred percent. As much as I want to, I can’t hide in the shade of the supply truck forever.
Maybe I’m not cut out for this work. Especially when I have to lead a team of people who think I know what I’m doing.
The rest of the team thinks I’m a pro at this.
So wrong.
I’m a pro at talking a big game, not anywhere close to being who they need me to be. But I can’t let them down. I can’t fail my mission.
A wave of nausea hits me as I raise my eyes to the piles of earthquake rubble that stretch out in every direction.
People might be buried in those heaps. Living people. Dead people. Mothers and children. Fathers. Brothers. Sons.
My stomach clenches as I straighten, pulling my shoulders back with protesting muscles.
They need me.
On weak legs, I step from behind the cargo truck into the mayhem. Crying, dirty people. Dogs barking. Aid workers in hard hats, scrambling to help. Men and women are moving crumbled debris by hand.
The despair thickens the air, choking me, making my mind race with chaotic panic.
Focus, Camy. Get your shit together.
But a sinking feeling in my marrow warns me. Maybe it’s another quake coming. Or something…
I don’t know what.
I shake my head and step under the blue and white tent and focus on what we need to do. Unpack. Organize. Get to work.
The sound of yelling is my first clue that something is wrong. More wrong, if that’s possible when there might be living people under those broken buildings.
But this sounds different. The tone of the voices makes me turn toward the broken road leading into the village. My heart clenches.
Stops. Dead.
Breath locked tight, I sway on my feet. No. Not now.
Fear slithers through me until it’s squeezing my organs in a vice-grip.
I knew this could happen. But… Christ. So soon? Of course, the earthquake was all over the news.
If we hadn”t already been en route to a flooding disaster, we wouldn’t be here yet. That is, if we could get here at all. But we were close enough to make it.
So were the bad guys.
Truck after truck full of outlaw rebels careens over the broken road and tumbled debris, machine guns raised, yelling at the traumatized citizens of Santa Rosa.
They point and shout at the earthquake recovery teams.
Those greedy, looting bastards. Like vultures flocking to a community that’s been brought to its knees.
I was briefed on this. Knew it would happen. But in the first twenty-four hours?
“Dammit.” It’s a muttered curse from Belle, one of my staff members. A second later, she appears next to my right shoulder.
“Crap. This is bad.” She grabs my forearm for emphasis, but it’s so slick with sweat her hand slides off. Her face is a mask of anger. “They’re going to try to stop us, you watch,” she says under her breath.
The hell they will.
Jutting my chin, I stare across the small-town square at the man that seems to be a ringleader. “I’m not letting that happen. I’ll come up with some way around it. Negotiate or something.”
“God, no!” She spins, and her midnight blue eyes are full of raw panic. “Camile, the first priority is to play it smart.”
“Sometimes, men like this are all flash and no bang. They might just be putting on a show.”
Belle grabs my arm again and, this time, her hand doesn’t slide because she clenches it with frightening strength. “Men like that hurt innocent people. Companies like ours are targets for ransom. We have to stay together and keep our eyes peeled.”
I’m not immune to her fear.
As I stare at her alarmed expression, the tremor returns to my muscles. Things could go bad in a hurry.
Belle’s no fool. She’s been in dozens of high-risk disaster locations with FamFind. She should really be the one with my job—the team lead—but there’s a whole other story there.
With a dip of my chin, I try to ease the worry. I let out a shaky exhale. “You’re right. I won’t do anything reckless.”
The way she inspects my face says she’s not convinced, but she squeezes my arm once and lets it go. “Hopefully, they’ll leave soon.”
We watch the men until she fans herself and turns away. “We might die from this heat first.” With a tired moan, she plucks at the soaking-wet FamFind shirt that’s clinging to her curves. “I got stuff to do. Remember, keep your eyes peeled.”
“I will.”
My feet seem to be glued in place. My mind is whirring with all the scenarios that could play out. None of them are good.
“Stop,” I order myself. “Assess. React.”
It’s my mantra. I repeat it.
Stop. Assess. React.
It should make me feel better. It usually does, but something is bothering me, and I can’t put my finger on it.
The last time I had a feeling like this, I got home from work to find my apartment broken into and all of my possessions stolen.
Since I don’t have any belongings besides what will fit in two small suitcases, I doubt that’s what’s happening now.
All I know is the uncomfortable feeling in my bones is not me shivering with fear. I won’t allow it.
I puff my cheeks, blow out a breath, and lift my damp hair off my neck as I look around.
So much to do. The work won’t get done unless I get in motion.
It’s already been far harder to get our footing to set up our aid center than I thought it would be. Getting to the tiny village took hours longer than it should have. Landslides, and worst of all, a hostile roadblock held us up.
Just when I thought it had to be over, we got a flat tire on top of that.
I’m counting that as three things. Three and done. Nothing else is going to go wrong today.
Okay.
Where was I?
I pick up a box of first-aid kits and move them closer to the tables at the back of the tent. There’s a growing stack of medical supplies that will be donated to anyone in need.
A group of angry gunmen stalk past, but don’t seem to notice us. Belle glances at me and wipes a hand dramatically over her brow once they’ve passed.
I mouth, “I know, that was close.”
Keeping my eyes peeled, I continue to open boxes. The first one has FamFind branded care packages. The second holds our team’s computers. The third has a dozen clipboards and white boards. And so on until I found boxes with the rest of the first-aid supplies, MRE food pouches, and water.
When I scan the area for the troublemakers, they’re milling around a collapsed building, harassing some locals. A couple of men seem to have it under control.
Good.
Maybe the rebels will get bored and move on.
I let my guard down for one minute. Just long enough to unpack a handful of tripods for signs, but when I raise my eyes, I know I’ve made what could be a fatal mistake.
Three armed men are stalking toward me with their faces half covered by neck gators.
My stomach pretzels and all the hairs on my neck stand up.
Where’s Belle?
I don’t want to take my eyes off of them.
My skin crawls. My hands get twitchy.
I stand up from my crouch, almost knocking a laptop to the ground, and start moving.
Dammit.
“Belle?” I croak.
She’s nowhere in sight, so I don’t stop moving.
I make it to the end of the row of wooden crates, hang a left, and catch a glimpse of her with the other two members of our team.
Whew.
Okay.
They’re retreating with pale faces and fast footsteps.
Belle waves for me to hurry. I hustle away from the tent and along the truck.
Stay cool. You’ve got this.
When I careen around the cargo truck, I skid to a halt.
Oh!
Only, I have too much momentum, so I stumble forward and slam against a wall of muscle.
All the wind is knocked out of me.
I try to scramble back, but he grabs me by latching two gigantic hands around my waist.
My brain kicks into overdrive, and time slows.
I register everything about him at once. The way his entire chest is one big plane of muscles. The ridiculous heat coming off of him. His height. Probably six-three.
But the most rattling thing is how he’s pressed against me everywhere. As if that’s not close enough, he jerks me that last millimeter forward into the granite-like front.
My breath squeezes out and a squeaky sound comes out of my throat.
Then he clamps an oversized, calloused hand over my whole face.
That’s when I go crazy.
“Shhh!” he hisses.
I twist and scream into his hand. “Mmmmmlp.” AKA help.
In the next instant, I’m hovering. My feet are off the ground. Reflexively, I kick like a wild animal.
Fight!
But he’s got me. And only needs one arm to do it.
This fact fuels the flames of my anger and equally raises my alarm to a screeching sound inside my head.
It’s not helping that I can’t breathe. He’s got me crushed so hard my lungs are pancaked.
My head swims. Black dots appear in front of my eyes.
I give one last, “Mmmmlp,” against his hand.
This is it. I’m going to die crushed against a human furnace. Flattened and burned to cinder.
He stiffens when the sound of shouting reaches us. Angry men’s voices in a language I can’t make out. The man holds so still. Coiled tight. Not even breathing.
The voices don’t draw closer. But they don’t recede, either.
A weird throbbing starts in my chest. I’m not sure it’s my heart, but if it is, there’s something broken.
He drags me off toward the tree line. With my last ounce of energy, I try to knee him, but he deflects and shifts me.
Uh oh.
That went all wrong.
He situates me against his hip. My arms are pinned at my sides, the rest of my body angled away from his family jewels.
So much for that plan….
His breath fans over my temple as he leans close to my ear. Goosebumps explode all over my body.
“Don’t make a sound.”
His timbre is so rough, I’m sure a feral animal just whispered in my ear.