“Rebels,”it said in a precise, likely feminine hand that didn’t belong to Michael. Had to have been put there right before they left the boat or the kidnappers would have found it. Apparently, Pia Santana wasn’t anybody’s fool.
“Got something,” Chase called to Kil, who was busy searching the salon. He held up the mug, showing the message in bright red lipstick.
“Rebels. Shit, I was afraid of that. Fucking Los Proscritos.”
“You said they controlled this area. You think they could be holding them in the village?”
Kil scrubbed a hand over his face. “I doubt it. They’ve probably taken them to one of their camps in the mountains. Nobody bothers them there.”
“Ransom, then?”
“Most likely. If Winston’s old man is as rich as you say.”
“How the hell did they know Michael was his son? And why haven’t they made any demands?”
“Maybe by now they have. Let’s get out of here and go find some answers.”
Chase dropped the mug into a plastic bag he found beneath the galley counter and stuffed it into one of the pockets in his cargo pants. At least he had some hopeful news for Harper.
Checking the area around the dock to be sure they didn’t have any unwanted company, they left the boat and crossed the beach into the jungle, heading back to the Land Cruiser.
When Harper spotted them, she opened the door and stepped out of the car, and he could read the fear in her face. Chase pulled the plastic bag out of his pocket, took out the mug and held it up so she could read the message on the side.
Harper saw the lipstick, knew it meant they must have been alive when they reached Colombia and burst into tears.
Chapter Fourteen
“Women,” Kil grumbled. “Last thing you need on a goddamn mission.”
“Leave her alone,” Chase warned sharply, drawing the bigger man’s glare. “Michael’s her brother, for chrissake. At least now she knows he and the girl were alive when they got here.”
Embarrassed, Harper wiped tears from her cheeks. She was determined to hold her own with the men. Crying wasn’t the way to show them she was equal to the task. “I’m sorry. I just... I was so afraid you’d come back and say they were dead.”
The scar at the corner of Kil’s hard mouth eased. Kil Dawson looked tough enough to eat nails for breakfast, but he didn’t say anything more. Harper had a feeling Chase had just gained a notch of respect for not being afraid to stand up to him.
“Looks like your brother and the woman made it this far,” Kil said. “Unfortunately, they’ll be facing more trouble ahead. A forced march into those steep mountains is gonna take everything they’ve got.”
“My brother won’t give up,” she said. “He works out. He’s in excellent physical condition. He’ll make it.”
No one mentioned what might happen to Pia. From her pictures, she was a beautiful girl with a lovely figure. Harper shuddered to think what a rebel army might do to a woman like that.
“Where do we start looking?” she asked.
“We’ll head into the village,” Kil said as he and Chase stashed their weapons in the back of the Land Cruiser, all but the big semiautomatic pistols on their belts beneath their T-shirts. “We’ll see what the locals have to say.”
Harper stashed her gun in the EC woven leather purse she’d taken out of her carry-on.
“Might not be easy getting someone to talk,” Chase said.
“You got money, right? Show them a stack of fifty-thousand-peso banknotes. Somebody will talk.”
It sounded like a lot of money, but the rate of exchange was so low fifty thousand pesos was worth less than twenty dollars. Harper didn’t care what the information cost. Chase had a satchel full of Colombian money in the back of the cruiser for just such a situation.
They climbed into the cruiser. Kil put the vehicle in Reverse and backed up, then turned and drove down the road into the village, heading straight for the Las Palmaras cantina. He parked the cruiser in front.
The sun was beginning to slip behind the mountains. It was still hot and humid, but darkness came early this time of year. As they climbed out of the vehicle and walked up on the covered wooden porch in front of the cantina, the smell of mildew and rotting fruit drifted out of the narrow alley that ran beside the building.
Kil shoved the front door open a little wider and they stepped into the stark interior, began to weave their way across the wooden floor between the few tables scattered around the room. At a round table in the corner, three rough-looking men played cards. A half-full bottle of tequila and three shot glasses sat within arm’s reach.
