As Lost as I Get

Also by Lisa Nicholas

The Farther I Fall

As Lost As I Get

Lisa Nicholas

InterMix Books, New York

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AS LOST AS I GET

An InterMix Book / published by arrangement with the author

Copyright © 2015 by Lisa Nicholas.

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eBook ISBN: 978-0-698-19146-4

PU
BLISHING HISTORY

InterMix eBook edition / August 2015

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Penguin Random House is committed to publishing works of quality and integrity.

In that spirit, we are proud to offer this book to our readers;

however, the story, the experiences, and the words

are the author’s alone.

Prologue

Outside Oaxaca, Mexico

Zoe knew her captors planned to kill her when they started leaving her hood off and let her see their faces. By now they’d figured out that her family couldn’t afford a ransom, and aid workers didn’t have much political worth.

She squirmed to find a more comfortable position. After three days, they still kept her hands tied behind her back, her feet bound at the ankles.

God, she’d been stupid. She knew the precautions, but she still fell into a routine, a regular route and a regular schedule. They’d probably watched her for days before pulling her off the street. Too bad they hadn’t done their homework on her. When they’d first shoved her into the tiny room, there’d been three other prisoners. One by one they’d all been released, and now she was alone.

Not for long. The door to her cell opened. Her captors shoved in a hooded man. She knew the two guarding her now. The shorter one had an endless supply of sweat-stained Hawaiian shirts. The taller one specialized in tight T-shirts that showed off his physique—he was the one she was most afraid of. The only talking he did was with his fists. He’d given her the bruise she had on her cheekbone when she’d moved too slowly for his liking. She’d seen his face twice now, and didn’t doubt she’d be seeing it in her nightmares for years, if she survived.

The man they shoved in front of them was built a lot like Talks With Fists, same height and similar musculature, but he was white. Expensive jeans and tennis shoes, same type of form-fitting T-shirt as the guard. Tourist, probably. The only question on her mind was whether they’d kill her before or after he was ransomed.

“Down, you dog.” The shorter guard pushed the new captive to the ground, crouching to bind his ankles. The man didn’t fight, but sat with his head bowed.

As soon as the guards left the room, the man rose to his knees and leaned over, shaking the hood off. He was definitely a tourist. His dark hair was cropped close and gleaming; she couldn’t tell if it was dark brown or black. He had the same expensive look as his jeans. His fair skin was clear and clean shaven with just a hint of shadow, and he had the sort of profile she’d only ever seen on a movie or television screen. He wouldn’t be here long. Either he had a family with money or he worked for a company that would want him back.

She realized he was giving her the same level of scrutiny, and felt a small rush of fear. They were both bound, so surely he couldn’t hurt her, but there was something dangerous in his eyes.

Which is why she didn’t expect them to soften the way they did. “Zoe Rodriguez?”

She was too startled to answer, but just nodded.

He glanced toward the locked door and pushed himself to a crouch, the movement oddly graceful. She fought not to
flinch when he came over to her. “My name’s Lee Wheeler. I’m with the CIA. I’m going to get you out of here.”

The sudden lump in her throat caught her by surprise. She tried to keep her face schooled as she studied him. There was no trace of anything but sincerity in his blue eyes. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“You don’t.” He flashed a quick, humorless grin. “I’m not precisely carrying my credentials at the moment.” Another careful look over his shoulder. “Trust me until we’re out of here, and I promise I’ll show you all the proof you need.”

Zoe’s throat ached and her eyes were stinging. She would not cry in front of a stranger, but the relief was threatening to overwhelm her. “Why?” she said. “I mean, I’m nobody.”

“Médecins International doctor, working as an emergency surgeon in a refugee camp in Oaxaca—that doesn’t sound like nobody to me.” He started to say something else but froze, then threw himself over to where the guards had initially pushed him.

The hood
.

Talks With Fists came in with the filthy bucket that served as a toilet, then dropped it, cursing and yelling at Lee to close his eyes. Lee did, but the guard cuffed him across the cheek before pulling the hood over his head again.

Then he retrieved the bucket and went back to Lee. Zoe knew the routine. He’d haul Lee to his feet and yank his pants down unceremoniously, and leave him to use the bucket or not. She turned away and waited for her turn. It never came. When Lee was finished, the guard left.

It was too much to bear. This was how it started, the dehumanization and humiliation that would finally let them kill her. “Hey! What the hell?” she yelled.

“Zoe,” Lee hissed. She didn’t know if he understood much Spanish or not, but he had to recognize her tone.

“Come on, you son of a bitch.” The rage was spilling over and she couldn’t do anything about it. “Bring me the goddamn bucket!”

“Zoe, stop. Don’t antagonize them.”

Wordless, she started screaming, jerking at her wrists and ankles as if she could free herself with pure rage.

The door flew open and the guard came back. “Shut up, bitch.”

Zoe yelled louder. Wherever they were, she already knew it didn’t matter how much noise she made. Either there were no people nearby, or the ones who were refused to get involved.

“Shut up,” the guard repeated. He grabbed her by her shirt, popping stitches in the seams. When she didn’t stop yelling, he backhanded her across the cheek that wasn’t already bruised. The pain was a flare of fire over the entire side of her face. She pistoned her legs and tried to kick him as he shook her, cursing and shouting at her to be quiet. The next blow rocked her head to the side and the world went dark.

***

Her bed was uncomfortable. The pillow was too unyielding, and the mattress beneath her was cold. Where were her
blankets? She tried to turn over and was stopped by a strong hand. “Hey. Zoe, wake up.” A man’s voice, a little familiar. “Come on, kiddo. Open your eyes.”

Her mouth was sticky and sour. “Don’t . . . call me kiddo.” She forced her eyelids open. The room was almost completely dark, with only faint moonlight shining through the cracks from outside. She wasn’t on her bed, or her pillow. Her head was in Lee’s lap, pillowed by one of his hands.

“What the hell were you trying to do, make him kill you?”

“He’s going to kill me anyway.” She struggled to sit up, but he wouldn’t let her. Her face and jaw ached, and a couple of her teeth felt like they might be a little loose.

“Hold still and rest for a minute.” He brushed a curl of her hair away from her eyes. “He’s not going to kill you because I’m not going to let him.”

Awareness was slowly filtering back. “Yeah, right. What are you going to do—” Then it hit her. “Your hands are free. How’d you do that?” Another realization. “
My
hands are free.” And her feet.

“Nothing gets past you, does it?” He smiled. “You didn’t think I was going to just walk in here unprepared to get you out, did you?” He shifted and reached into his pocket, pulling out a tiny penknife.

“They didn’t search you?” The dizziness was worse than before.

“Of course they did.”

“But then how did you—never mind. I don’t want to know.”

“You’re right, you don’t.”

“I think I have a concussion,” she said. “That was . . . not my brightest moment.”

Lee shook his head. “Not really, no. Gutsy, though. Did you really have to pee that badly?”

She wished he would stop smiling at her. “No. I just—” Suddenly she was acutely aware that she was lying in his lap, and tried to sit up again. This time he let her. She leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes, waiting for the dizziness to pass. “It’s the next step,” she said, keeping her eyes closed. “It’s been long enough that they know there’s no ransoming me, so next they start treating me badly, ignoring that I’m human.” She tried to force a smile and keep her voice light, but she couldn’t control the break in her words. “Makes me easier to k— To kill.” That’s when the tears started stinging behind her eyes. Damn it. She tried to force them back.

“Hey.” The softness in his voice made it hard to keep swallowing the tears. “It’s okay.” He put an arm around her and pulled her to his shoulder. The tears burned their way past her eyelids and dripped on her cheeks. “I’m going to get you out of here. Do you believe me?” She didn’t answer, and he tilted her chin up to force her to look him in the eye. He brushed away tears with the pad of his thumb, a careful, gentle motion that only made her cry harder. “Zoe. Trust me. You have to trust me.”

Reluctantly, she nodded. What choice did she have? “Sorry if I ruined your plans.”

“My plans are flexible.” He pulled her back to his shoulder and she let him, accepting the warmth of another human
being. “Tell me what happens in the morning around here. Food again? How many guards have you seen since you’ve been here? Tell me everything.”

She recounted as much as she could remember. “I didn’t actually start seeing their faces until this afternoon, so I’ve only seen two. I’ve heard maybe . . . four different voices? I’m not sure.”

“That’s all right. Any weapons that you’ve seen?”

Talking about details helped calm her down. She swiped away the last of the tears. Her face was probably a dirty, streaked mess. “The men who took me had rifles. The guards only have handguns that I’ve seen.”

He nodded, and she was struck again by his eyes, now distant and thoughtful. “Okay. Try and get some sleep.”

“Will you sleep?” she asked.

“Probably not.”

“Good. Keep an eye on me. Make sure I stay responsive.”

“Zoe?” The tone of his voice made her look up at him. “I’m really sorry, but I have to put these back on.” He held up strands of rope. “And the hood. In case they come in.”

A surge of panic rose and it took several breaths for her to beat it back. She nodded ruefully. “Just when I was getting circulation back in my feet.”

“I won’t tie it as tight.” He was true to his word. She was still effectively hobbled, but the rope wasn’t biting into her skin. He did the same thing for her hands, then pulled the hood over her face.

“What about you?” she asked, settling back against the wall.

“Me too,” he said. “My feet, anyway. Get some rest.”

Zoe hesitated, then rested her head against his shoulder. “Thank you.”

He sounded amused. “Just doing my job.”

***

The woman asleep on his shoulder was remarkable. Lee had seen pictures as part of his initial briefings. He knew she’d be beautiful, but photos of her smiling at the camera didn’t do her full justice. A photograph showed her deep gray eyes and the warmth of her golden light brown skin. A photograph didn’t show the fierce intelligence in those eyes or the bright spark of her personality. Even here, after over three days in captivity, dirty and exhausted, she was a force of nature. When she’d started yelling for the guards he was equal parts terrified and awed. It could have been the end of his mission right there.

A solo mission like his was always difficult, but sometimes easier to pull off than something larger, with bigger political ramifications. If his cover was blown, he knew his higher ups would disavow any knowledge of him or his mission. He was, in government terms, a “deniable asset.”

He watched Zoe sleep, her eyes moving in REM. He’d have to rouse her soon. Getting her out of here was a little more complicated if she did have a concussion, but even concussed she still seemed sharp. So far the trickiest part had been
getting kidnapped by the same group. A wallet of pesos and a promise of full immunity had netted them an informant inside the ring, and who Lee imagined was the one who suggested him as their next target. For his part, Lee had made a show of being a wealthy tourist. It was a lucky thing that
another
group of kidnappers hadn’t targeted him.

He couldn’t pinpoint their precise location on a map right now, but he bet he could get within twenty miles. The van they’d used to transport him was windowless, but he’d heard perfectly well. They were up in the mountains, but not so remote that a vehicle couldn’t get there. The road noise had changed significantly once they’d left the city of Oaxaca proper, and even blindfolded, he knew the smell and feel of the jungle close around them when they brought him into the house.

If what Zoe said was accurate, there probably weren’t more than two or three guards in place at a time. They were accustomed to meek prisoners waiting for ransom. The biggest unknown was how heavily armed they were. Zoe had seen more of them than he had—and she was right, between the removal of her hood and the sudden mistreatment by the guards, they weren’t planning to keep her alive much longer. He’d have to trust that her sense of observation was keen.

He turned his plan over and over in his head, looking for cracks. It wasn’t perfect, but no plan ever was. All that was left was to wait a few more hours, give the guards plenty of time to get drowsy and disoriented. Lee closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall, and waited.

***

It was dark when Lee woke her with a gentle shake. “Zoe.” His voice was low against her ear. “It’s time.”

She struggled up toward consciousness, blinking and wishing she could rub her eyes. Her face ached. Her cheek was hot and swollen. A black eye wasn’t out of the question. As she opened her eyes, she realized she was leaning against Lee, and sat up. “What do I do?”

He flashed her a quick grin that made her feel sorry for anyone that got in his way. “Play dead.”

“What?”

“Just that. Lie still, try to hold your breath. You shouldn’t have to for long.” He nudged her away from him and onto her side. She let her mouth fall open and tried to make her muscles go slack. “Good,” Lee murmured, then she felt him loosening the ropes around her hands. “Stay down until I tell you it’s safe.”

“What are you—?”

“Shh. Dead.” No sooner had she settled than he raised his voice. “Oh God, oh my God. Guards! Hello? ¿Por favor? The girl, I think she died!”

“Quiet in there!” She recognized the guard’s voice, one of the slower, duller ones.

“¡Ella es muerto!” Lee’s accent was terrible—was it deliberately bad?

The doorknob rattled then the door swung open. Lee spoke in broken first-year-of-high-school Spanish. “He hit the girl hard. Too hard. The girl is dead.”