Trap, Secure. Carol Ericson
leading with his M4. “Don’t reach for any weapons, or I’ll shoot.”
Hell, for all he knew, the woman could be a trained assassin. If she lived in this compound, her loyalty lay with Zendaris. He could even be face-to-face with Zendaris’s mistress. Their intelligence had indicated Zendaris kept multiple lovers.
His nerve endings buzzed. If they could capture one of Zendaris’s girlfriends and grill her, there’s no telling how much information she could give them.
His step lightened as he drew closer and verified the woman didn’t have anything in her hands and no indication of a weapon—at least none that he could see. Her slim, black slacks hugged her hips and legs and her dark-colored blouse stirred in the gentle breeze. How could he have ever thought she was a man?
“Put your hands in the air where I can see them.” He moved within steps of her, so close he could smell the perfume he’d noticed on the scarf—exotic, hypnotic.
She tilted her head and a dark ponytail slid over her shoulder. Still, she didn’t speak. She lifted the hand from her forehead and raised it, palm out.
Gage drew in a quick breath as he noticed the blood streaked across her face. “You’re injured.”
She nodded once and pitched forward.
Gage dropped his weapon where it hung over his shoulder and swooped in before she hit the ground, catching her beneath the arms. Her head bobbed against his belly, and her knees buckled, swaying inches above the wet grass.
He hitched her into his arms, cradling her head. His fingers met a sticky patch of blood matting her hair on one side. He shouted to the soldiers standing in a semicircle, gaping. “Medical. Who has the medical supplies?”
“We’ll set up something on the back patio, sir.”
The men sprang into action and by the time Gage arrived at the patio with the woman clutched to his chest, the soldiers had already set up a stretcher, water and the contents of a first-aid kit, all illuminated by two spotlights.
He laid the woman on the stretcher, and she pinned him with her wide, dark eyes. “W-who are you?”
Did she mean in general or him specifically? She had to know they were U.S. Military come calling for her...lover.
“I’m Gage Booker and these men are from the U.S. Army Special Forces, but then you probably already know that. Why did they leave you behind?”
Her eyes clouded over and her lashes fluttered. “I don’t know.”
One of the soldiers nudged him aside. “I’m the medic on this assignment, Booker, but stay close to assist me.”
Gage moved aside, a jumble of emotions churning in his gut as he watched Perkins clean and dress the woman’s head wound. How had a pretty, young woman like this wound up in Zendaris’s clutches? Then he scoffed at himself. That’s just it: pretty and young. What else did Zendaris need? And she’d probably grown accustomed to the lifestyle he’d offered—until he ditched her.
“Hello.” Perkins ripped the sleeve from the woman’s blouse and pointed to her arm. “This is a flesh wound from a bullet. Just creased the skin.”
The woman turned her head and glanced at the ripped flesh on her arm like she was examining a cut of beef at the market.
“How’d you get that?” As far as Gage knew, no shots had been fired other than the initial volley when they’d taken the men at the outer wall.
Captain Denny loomed over the scene. “Has she given you any information yet?”
Perkins shook his head. “She’s in shock, sir.”
After Perkins tended to the bullet wound and bandaged the gash on her head, he turned away to pack up the supplies.
Gage held a bottle of water to the woman’s lips and she drank deeply. “Do you have any other injuries?”
“No.”
Gage helped her to a sitting position and ran his hands along the smooth skin of her arms, back and legs. She sported a few nasty abrasions, but she didn’t wince at his touch and he didn’t see any more blood. She’d obviously fallen from that balcony and hit her head, but how’d she get the gunshot wound?
If he hoped to get any information from her, she’d have to start talking.
“Booker, we’re heading out. Our mission’s complete.”
Gage stood up and saluted Captain Denny. “Thank you for your assistance, sir.”
The captain eyed the woman sitting on the stretcher. “You’ll take it from here?”
“I’ve got it.”
“We’re exiting through the front gates. It’s a straight shot to the choppers from there.”
Perkins snapped the first-aid kit shut and placed it on a table. “I’ll leave this with you. Don’t let her fall asleep. She probably suffered a concussion, and she’s still in shock. Make sure she stays warm, even in this climate.”
“I’ll be taking her to a hospital just to get her checked out.”
“That’s a good idea.” Perkins pressed a bottle of pills into Gage’s hand. “Have her take one of these twice a day—antibiotics, so her wounds don’t get infected, and make sure she gets a tetanus shot when you get her to the hospital.”
Gage shook the bottle of pills. “Thanks, Perkins.”
The Green Berets left Zendaris’s compound with a lot less fanfare than when they arrived, turning the mission over to him.
At least the raid hadn’t been a complete failure. He’d be leaving Colombia with a prized witness—one of Zendaris’s mistresses.
He crouched next to the stretcher, and the woman took another swig of water. Her cheeks sported new color and her dark eyes had lost their glassiness.
He shook a pill into his hand. “Take this.”
She plucked the pill from his palm and downed it with her next gulp of water.
“I’m going to take you to a doctor. Perkins is okay in a pinch, but we’ll see if you need further medical treatment.” He tilted his chin toward her battered body. “Who did this to you?”
Her long, dark lashes swept her cheeks. “I don’t know.”
Zendaris had picked himself a real beauty. Why wouldn’t he just take her with him? Maybe he’d never been in residence here, and his henchmen left her behind.
“I know you’re not feeling great, but I need to ask you some questions...before we leave.” Gage swallowed. He’d always found it difficult interrogating women. Made him feel like a bully. But he hoped he’d made it clear that he wasn’t taking her anywhere until she answered his questions about Zendaris.
“Do you want to sit in this chair?” He slid his hand beneath her arm and helped her to her feet.
She took the two steps to the chair without wavering and perched on the end.
He pointed to a blanket one of the soldiers had stripped off a bed upstairs. “Are you cold?”
She raised a pair of sculpted, dark eyebrows. “It’s about eighty degrees out here.”
Gage grinned, feeling some tension seep from his shoulders. That was the most words she’d strung together all night—and she’d even made a small joke.
“I guess it’s the shock. Perkins said you might get the chills.”
“I’m fine.”
Dragging another chair close to hers, he said, “Okay, let’s get started. I’m Gage Booker. What’s your name?”
“I don’t know.”
Prickles of