Read Online Danger Close (The Echo Platoon Series, Book 1) by Marliss Melton - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Marliss Melton
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swallowed hard. Their bearded faces and bone structure identified them as Middle Easterners, not locals. She'd traveled enough to tell the difference. The murderous intent in their tanned faces gave way to astonishment as they beheld the lone white woman staring back at them.
Into the awful silence, Maddy whispered, " As-salam alaykum ," greeting them in Arabic. Communication, as she'd once told Sam, was the key to negotiating peace.
One of the men, a young handsome soldier with a trimmed beard and startling turquoise eyes, stepped closer. He cocked his head, running a thorough gaze over her conservative blouse and light-weight capris. Vulnerability left her feeling as naked as the night Sam and Bronco had surprised her in Matamoros.
Orbiting like a raptor circling its prey, he stretched out a hand, caught a tendril of her bright hair and slid it through his fingers. She held her breath, determined not to flinch or show fear.
Why, oh, why hadn't she listened to Ricardo? These men had to be the terrorists she'd heard rumors about, and they'd just shot Enrique. Surely they would shoot her, too—or rape her first and then kill her.
The leader seemed to recollect himself, releasing her hair. "You're North American?" he demanded, speaking flawless British English.
"Yes," Maddy admitted reluctantly. Being American wouldn't endear her to these men, but she couldn't bring herself to betray her country and lie.
"We are looking for nitric acid," the leader told her unexpectedly. "You must have some here."
Maddy's brain responded sluggishly. Her heart thudded with the hope that they'd let her live if she gave them what they sought. "I think we have several liters."
"Show me," he invited with an eloquent sweep of his hand.
On knees that jittered, she stepped between them, leading them back toward the front of the room toward a unit of shelves near the desk. There the brown glass bottles of nitric acid, used to determine trace metals in fresh water, lined the lower shelf. She counted six in all. "Help yourself," she offered, praying they had no nefarious plans in mind for the nitric acid.
As the leader holstered his weapon, an older soldier, heavily bearded, with black-eyes and an ugly scar on his cheek, kept his pistol trained on her. The leader bent over, selected the bottles one at a time, and passed them off to the other two soldiers until the shelf stood bare. Returning his attention to Maddy, he then murmured something in his native tongue to his companions. While completely unintelligible, the words could only mean one thing.
This is it. Maddy swayed on her feet, rocked by the force of her thundering heart. Now they're going to kill me.
A harsh protest to the leader's words issued from the scar-faced soldier. Clearly, he objected to whatever his leader had just said. He gestured rudely at Maddy. Hatred radiated from his dark eyes and his lips twisted into an ugly sneer. It couldn't be more obvious that he wanted her dead.
Maddy felt the blood drain from her cheeks.
The handsome leader sent her a contemplative look. Then, in a quiet voice nonetheless redolent with authority, he gestured toward the exit, clearly exhorting the others to leave. Two of the three soldiers exchanged suspicious looks, but the youngest, who bore a resemblance to the leader, turned unquestioningly to the door, and the others grudgingly followed. The door clanged shut, and Maddy found herself alone with their superior.
The supplies she had dumped on the desk earlier caught his eye. Her heart beat an irregular tattoo as he stepped closer to them. He picked up the sheet she'd printed out and scanned it.
"Madison Scott?" he asked.
The sound of her name on his lips bewildered her, but then she realized he'd just read it off the printout.
He looked up at her sharply, thoughts flowing behind his jewel-like eyes. "Is that your name?"
"Yes," she admitted, seeing no point in lying. No one knew who her father was here in Paraguay so what difference
Into the awful silence, Maddy whispered, " As-salam alaykum ," greeting them in Arabic. Communication, as she'd once told Sam, was the key to negotiating peace.
One of the men, a young handsome soldier with a trimmed beard and startling turquoise eyes, stepped closer. He cocked his head, running a thorough gaze over her conservative blouse and light-weight capris. Vulnerability left her feeling as naked as the night Sam and Bronco had surprised her in Matamoros.
Orbiting like a raptor circling its prey, he stretched out a hand, caught a tendril of her bright hair and slid it through his fingers. She held her breath, determined not to flinch or show fear.
Why, oh, why hadn't she listened to Ricardo? These men had to be the terrorists she'd heard rumors about, and they'd just shot Enrique. Surely they would shoot her, too—or rape her first and then kill her.
The leader seemed to recollect himself, releasing her hair. "You're North American?" he demanded, speaking flawless British English.
"Yes," Maddy admitted reluctantly. Being American wouldn't endear her to these men, but she couldn't bring herself to betray her country and lie.
"We are looking for nitric acid," the leader told her unexpectedly. "You must have some here."
Maddy's brain responded sluggishly. Her heart thudded with the hope that they'd let her live if she gave them what they sought. "I think we have several liters."
"Show me," he invited with an eloquent sweep of his hand.
On knees that jittered, she stepped between them, leading them back toward the front of the room toward a unit of shelves near the desk. There the brown glass bottles of nitric acid, used to determine trace metals in fresh water, lined the lower shelf. She counted six in all. "Help yourself," she offered, praying they had no nefarious plans in mind for the nitric acid.
As the leader holstered his weapon, an older soldier, heavily bearded, with black-eyes and an ugly scar on his cheek, kept his pistol trained on her. The leader bent over, selected the bottles one at a time, and passed them off to the other two soldiers until the shelf stood bare. Returning his attention to Maddy, he then murmured something in his native tongue to his companions. While completely unintelligible, the words could only mean one thing.
This is it. Maddy swayed on her feet, rocked by the force of her thundering heart. Now they're going to kill me.
A harsh protest to the leader's words issued from the scar-faced soldier. Clearly, he objected to whatever his leader had just said. He gestured rudely at Maddy. Hatred radiated from his dark eyes and his lips twisted into an ugly sneer. It couldn't be more obvious that he wanted her dead.
Maddy felt the blood drain from her cheeks.
The handsome leader sent her a contemplative look. Then, in a quiet voice nonetheless redolent with authority, he gestured toward the exit, clearly exhorting the others to leave. Two of the three soldiers exchanged suspicious looks, but the youngest, who bore a resemblance to the leader, turned unquestioningly to the door, and the others grudgingly followed. The door clanged shut, and Maddy found herself alone with their superior.
The supplies she had dumped on the desk earlier caught his eye. Her heart beat an irregular tattoo as he stepped closer to them. He picked up the sheet she'd printed out and scanned it.
"Madison Scott?" he asked.
The sound of her name on his lips bewildered her, but then she realized he'd just read it off the printout.
He looked up at her sharply, thoughts flowing behind his jewel-like eyes. "Is that your name?"
"Yes," she admitted, seeing no point in lying. No one knew who her father was here in Paraguay so what difference
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