Page 17 of Kyle (Gold Team #3)

The orphanage Donny and Camilla had chosen was perfect.

The mountainside was beautiful. A clean crisp ocean breeze rolled over the small village and it smelled of new beginnings. I wasn’t stupid. It would take more than fresh air to heal the girls, but it was a start. The owners of the orphanage were kind and immediately welcomed the girls.

One man roamed the property, but he kept to the outskirts and gave the girls a wide berth. All of the other caretakers were women, both young and old alike.

As soon as we’d arrived, the girls were offered showers, clean clothes, and food. All nine had stayed huddled together through the process. Even though there was room for the girls to be separated and sleep in cots, they’d refused and were now sleeping on mats in the corner of the room.

It broke my heart but I understood. They also didn’t want much to do with me. I was an outsider, a stranger. All I’d wanted was to see them safe and they were. Besides, I’d be leaving at sunrise. There was no point for me to push my way into their lives, they’d been traumatized enough.

Donny and Camilla had left immediately after our arrival. They’d received word they were needed back in Dili. I opted to stay to make sure the girls had settled, though now I regretted my decision. I wasn’t needed here and someone from the nearby village had to drive me six hours back to the city.

But I’d wanted to stay and see for myself that the girls would be okay.

I tried to get comfortable in the small cot and turned on my side. Staring into the darkness, I thought about Kyle. Did he get to the Cambodian girls in time? Was he okay? Was he thinking about me, too?

Of course he wasn’t.

“Miss.” A woman shook me from sleep. “Car here.”

Crap. I overslept.

Which was not surprising since I’d tossed and turned all night.

And every time I’d woken up all I could think about was how good it had felt when I’d fallen asleep in Kyle’s arms. I couldn’t forget the feel of his chest against my back, his strong arms holding me close.

I couldn’t figure out what it was about him that had me sinking into his embrace instead of freaking out.

And I’d spent much of my night thinking on it and I still couldn’t understand.

I sat up and tossed my legs over the metal frame of the cot and tried to shake the last of my lethargy away. I’d wanted to say goodbye to the girls but now I’d have no time.

I stood and finger-combed my hair, pulled it into a ponytail, and grabbed my backpack. I’d brush my teeth and change my clothes at the airport. Not that anyone would care what I looked like—but they would appreciate minty fresh breath.

I followed the girl out of the room I’d been given and made my way outside. All nine girls were waiting for me and I couldn’t stop my smile. They were here, they were safe, and they’d heal.

The oldest of the group slowly approached and stopped a few feet from me. “Thank you,” she spoke in English. “You save us.”

“Be well and take care of each other.”

With a nod she went back to the group, and for the first time in a long time I wanted to reach out and pull the small girl into a hug.

But I refrained, knowing my embrace would be unwelcomed.

God, I hoped one day she’d learn to trust again and not wall herself off like I’d done. It was a lonely life full of regrets.

After a quick goodbye to the owner and the staff, I was on my way back to Dili. Back to my dull life. Alone. Without Kyle.

I wished I knew where he was and what he was doing.

Five and a half hours was a long time to ride on a bumpy road that winded down a mountain then zigzagged over more foothills.

My stomach was queasy and my ass hurt. It felt like I was sitting on a piece of plywood covered in upholstery.

And considering the car I was in had been manufactured sometime in the 1980s, I probably was.

For the last half hour, the driver kept stealing glances at me through the rearview mirror, making my unease grow.

The man looked to be in his thirties but he had a scraggly beard and unkept hair which made it difficult to accurately pinpoint his age.

He could’ve been in his teens for all I knew.

While I couldn’t guess his age, I could tell something was off. He was acting strange.

“Everything okay? Is someone following us?” I turned to look out the back window but there were no other cars in sight.

“No, Miss,” he said in heavily accented English.

The hair on the back of my neck tingled. Something wasn’t right. The driver started to slow and I pulled my phone out of my backpack.

“Okay.” I smiled broadly trying not to alert the man that I was now freaking the hell out.

I scrolled to the only number I could think of for help and sent a text: Weird feeling. Could be nothing. I’m thirtyish minutes west of Dili. My driver is acting funny. We passed two power plants a minute ago. No street signs.

I sent the message and looked around. Come on, what else could I tell Kyle? Think, Anaya .

I went back to my phone and tapped out another message: I can see the ocean. There’s a big church with a red roof and a sign to Maritimia.

My phone vibrated with an incoming message: When the car stops run. I’m on my way.

He was on his way?

Me: It might be nothing. Wait. I just have a weird feeling.

Kyle: Never ignore what your intuition is telling you. We’re coming. Run, Anaya. Promise me you’ll run.

If I’d been freaked-out before, I was seriously freaking out now.

I knew something was wrong, just like I had the day the rebels had stormed the village.

There’d been something telling me to hide even before I’d heard the first gunshot.

The same voice was whispering now. The same feeling of panic was starting to well in my stomach.

Me: I’ll run .

My hands were shaking as I smiled and took in my surroundings.

“Why are we stopping?” I asked when the driver turned off the main road .

“Petrol,” he lied.

There were no gas stations around but I smiled again and nodded.

I went back to my phone and sent Kyle an update: He pulled off the road. North toward the water. There’s a big marina. I don’t see anything else.

My heart was pounding in my chest and perspiration dotted my forehead.

Kyle: As soon as he slows jump out and run. I’ll find you.

The car started to slow and dread hit me like a tsunami.

Me: 5 men. We’re stopping. I’ll try to run. Please find me.

Kyle: I WILL find you. Run, sweetheart. RUN.

I shoved my phone in my pack, secured the strap over my shoulders, and didn’t wait another second. I pushed open the door—which was much harder than it looked in the movies while a car was in motion—and jumped out.

I hit the ground with a thud and all the oxygen was knocked from my lungs. That, too, looked much easier in the movies. My shoulder and hip hurt from the impact and I was still trying to catch my breath when I rolled to my side to get my feet under me, but it never happened.

A booted foot made contact with my ribs and I screamed out in pain.

A second kick landed and I would swear I heard a bone snap.

A hand grabbed my bicep, the other my ponytail, and pulled me to my feet and roughly shoved me forward.

My head tilted back, trying to alleviate some of the pain from my hair being yanked, but nothing could stop the fear that had taken over.

I swung wildly trying to evade my captor—my feet kicked, and I screamed until my throat burned. A second man approached, his fist raised. Pain blistered across my face, then the lights went out.

I came awake with a start.

Chained.

No, no , no. Not again.

Panicked bubbled and I couldn’t breathe.

My body swayed and I wasn’t sure if it was because I was hyperventilating or if I was moving.

I yanked on my wrists but they wouldn’t budge.

Chained.

Please, God, let Kyle find me.

Fuzziness clouded my vision and darkness pulled me under.

I WILL find you.

Kyle would come.