Home > Immortal Nights (Argeneau #24)(15)

Immortal Nights (Argeneau #24)(15)
Author: Lynsay Sands

Abigail stared at him blankly. “Our people? Who are these people?”

“The reason we were in Texas,” he responded and Abigail immediately scowled.

“Well, that tells me absolutely nothing,” she said grimly. “Who—”

“An organization who were looking into the disappearance of several young . . . people who had gone missing from the bar scene in San Antonio,” he explained carefully.

“Oh. So, like the Feds,” Abigail said, relaxing back against him again. She was pretty sure it was the FBI who were called in on kidnappings and such. But . . . “You mean you guys weren’t the first kidnap victims? Jet’s clients took others?”

Tomasso nodded. “Several.”

“That’s awful,” Abigail said with a frown as she considered it. Several young men like Tomasso locked up naked in cages and being shipped to Venezuela. It was probably some kind of sex ring, she thought as her fingers brushed over Tomasso’s chest. Pretty, sexy young men like Tomasso with all his sex appeal and naked prettiness and sex.

Realizing she seemed to have sex on the mind any time she got close to Tomasso, Abigail gave her head a shake and sat up again. Once there was even that little distance from his body she was able to think more clearly and recalled the client saying something about someone called “the doc” and experiments. Maybe not a sex ring then, she realized.

“So you were working for the Feds, trying to catch these kidnappers, but got kidnapped yourself,” Abigail reasoned out.

Tomasso hesitated and then said, “Sì. We volunteered.”

She considered his words, wondering what they’d volunteered to do and suddenly thought she knew the answer. “You volunteered to be bait? To be kidnapped? Are you insane?”

“We did not expect to be kidnapped,” Tomasso said calmly. “They had only taken individuals prior to this and we were two. We intended only to see what we could find out.”

Abigail eyed him narrowly. She didn’t think Tomasso was being wholly honest with her. She suspected he’d known there was a good possibility that they might be kidnapped, or at least that one of them might, and yet they’d volunteered for the job anyway. Letting it go, though, she said, “And it worked. You were both kidnapped.”

“Sì.”

“But your brother escaped,” Abigail murmured.

“Sì, and according to you, I was being transported to Caracas. It must be where the others are,” he added with a frown. “I must get that information to . . . the organization so that they can begin to search the city and—”

“Not Caracas,” Abigail interrupted.

“What?” Tomasso asked.

“Your final destination wasn’t Caracas,” she explained.

“What?” he repeated with dismay. “But on the plane you said we were flying to Caracas.”

“We were,” Abigail assured him, and then explained, “But that guy who was duct taping your arm mentioned an island. He said . . . now what was it,” she muttered, trying to recall. “I think he said, ‘Enjoy the flight. It’s the last one you’ll take. Once you reach the island, you’ll never leave.’” She paused briefly, trying to recall if she’d got it right and then shrugged helplessly and said, “Or something like that anyway. I know he mentioned an island and experiments and someone he called ‘the doc’ though, so Caracas wasn’t your final destination. An island was. They probably had a boat waiting in Caracas or something.”

“Or another plane,” Tomasso muttered with a frown. “For all we know, Caracas may only have been a halfway point and they were going to fly on to Brazil or Argentina.”

“Maybe,” Abigail allowed. “But I doubt it. The island is probably somewhere off the coast of Venezuela. Otherwise, why not just have Jet take them to Brazil or Argentina?”

“True,” he murmured and looked a little relieved at this news. “So we need only look for an island they might take them to.”

Abigail snorted at his words. “Only? Venezuela has something like 1,750 miles of coastline and maybe seventy-two islands.” Noting the dismay on his face, she added quickly, “But the airport should help narrow it down.”

“I do not understand,” he began with a frown.

“Well, there are only two international airports in Venezuela—Simon Bolivar in Caracas and La Chinita in Maracaibo. As far as I know anyway,” she added, because while she was good with geography and had researched some stuff with her mom to keep her spirits up, they hadn’t focused terribly hard on Venezuela after reading about the whole kidnapping capital of the world bit. According to the information they had looked at, there were something like five kidnappings reported a day and most kidnappings weren’t even reported. Apparently, they actually had an anti-kidnapping squad, for heaven’s sake. What other country had that? Abigail and her mom had quickly lost interest in that country as her post-cancer-celebration trip destination so hadn’t researched it as hard as some of the others.

“I do not understand what matter it is that there are two international airports,” Tomasso said impatiently.

“Oh, right,” Abigail said, recalled to their conversation. “Well, the island’s likely closer to Caracas than Maracaibo, right? Otherwise they would have had Jet land at La Chinita.”

“Ah, I see. Sì,” Tomasso murmured. “So we should concentrate our search for the island on Venezuela’s eastern coast.”

“I would,” she said with a shrug. “And the smaller islands too. I mean, this ‘doc’ could be on an inhabited island, but that bit about ‘once on the island you’ll never leave’ kind of makes me think there can’t be other people on the island that might aid in an escape.”

“You’re right.” Tomasso smiled and gave her a quick crushing hug. “Thank you. You are brilliant.”

Flushing, Abigail shook her head and barely restrained herself from saying, “Pshaw. It was nothing.”

God, she was pathetic, Abigail thought suddenly. He gave her a compliment and she went all melted caramel inside. Boy, how low had her self-esteem dropped this last year? And why? She may have dropped out of medical school, but she’d done it to tend to her ailing mother, not because she hadn’t been able to handle the classes. Abigail had loved medical school. She’d thrived there. She’d felt strong and smart and important. She was going to be a doctor.

Now, a year later she felt like a big fat lump of a loser. And she shouldn’t, Abigail told herself firmly. She was just as smart as she’d been a year ago, and she could finish medical school. She might have to work her way through the last two years, but she could do that.

As for the fat lump part, so what if she’d added thirty pounds to her already generous weight? Her size didn’t seem to bother Tomasso, why was she letting it bother her? She should be more concerned about her health. Not being able to manage more than an hour’s walk before feeling like she was going to die probably wasn’t good. It wasn’t like they’d been walking fast.

Of course, it was harder to walk in sand than on a solid surface, Abigail acknowledged. And she was suffering a head trauma. She probably had a concussion too. And that would be hard on the body. Perhaps she should just cut herself some slack and stop being so critical of every little thing she did or didn’t, and could or couldn’t do. Tomasso may be Hercules with loads of strength and stamina, but she was not Wonder Woman, and that was okay.

“Come on,” Abigail said suddenly, getting to her feet.

“Where are we going?” Tomasso asked with surprise, popping to his feet beside her.

“I’ve rested long enough. We can walk again,” she announced, making her way out of the jungle and toward the beach.

“Are you sure?” Tomasso asked. “We did not rest long.”

“I’m sure,” Abigail answered without glancing back. “But this time I think we should walk along the shoreline. The firmer sand will make it less tiring. It feels good on bare feet too,” she added, then paused and turned back to ask, “Which reminds me. What happened to my shoes?”

   
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