Chapter Seventeen

“Easy does it. Put your hands up and no sudden moves.”

She raised her hands slowly over her head. This couldn’t be the end. She looked into the dark eyes of the man holding the gun, eyes that gleamed with suppressed emotion. He reminded her of shallow water where an alligator lurked, calm on the surface but deadly underneath. He smiled, showing small, widely spaced teeth. Would he shoot her dead right here, or did he plan to take her someplace and kill her?

“Well now, Ms. O’Kane. Do you remember me?”

“You’re Donny Bertola.”

“Got that right. You didn’t bother to introduce yourself that night at your fiancé’s home. If you had, it would have saved me some trouble.” There was something about the man that seemed off. She didn’t know what she thought a killer might look like, but there was too much excitement in this man’s eyes, like he’d discovered something that thrilled him. He nodded to the nondescript sedan parked on the road. “Get in, we’re going for a little ride.”

“What did you do to Robles and Tran? Are they hurt?”

“Aw, that’s sweet of you to worry about them. But they’re okay. Embarrassed, humiliated probably, because they lost a witness. Might lose their jobs, but it’s a sucky job.”

Delay. She had to delay, stall him, keep him talking, so the marshals Linc said were coming would get there. Mikayla had a feeling that if she got in that car, her odds of surviving dropped significantly. Her mind scrambled for some way of stalling him. “How could you do this? How could you turn on your own people?”

He gave an unpleasant laugh. “Easier than I thought it would be, and they were never my people. Like I said, it’s a sucky job. New job’s not much better, but I can take a little more leeway with it.” He pointed toward the sedan with the muzzle of his gun. “Move it.”

“What do you want with me?”

The smile turned feral. “No more discussion. Get in the car.”

Mikayla moved, but slowly. There were no houses nearby. No nosy neighbors to get suspicious and call 9-1-1 about a man with a gun. She wished desperately she’d taken a second to make that call herself.

“Move it, Ms. O’Kane. You see, if I were following my boss’s orders, you’d be dead by now. But he’s an asshole so I don’t mind making my own rules. But that only goes so far. If you make this more difficult than it’s worth, I’ll simply follow orders and dump your body. You want to live a little longer? You’ll cooperate.”

He moved ahead of her and opened the front passenger door. Transferring the pistol to his left hand, he reached behind his waist and brought out a pair of handcuffs and held them out to her. “Cuff yourself.”

She stared at the cuffs, mind racing for an alternative. She really, really didn’t want to be restrained.

“Put them on. You can keep your hands in front, but I want them tight.” The gun pointed at her robbed her of any options. Moving mechanically, she did as she was told. Clicking the handcuffs around her wrists felt like he was pulling closed the bars of a cage.

Bertola reached out and grabbed her right hand, fingers cold against her skin, and cinched the metal even tighter around her wrists. He reached into his front pocket and pulled out a phone, then tapped the screen and held it up to snap a picture.

“Now give me your cell.”

Her stomach fell, leaving a hollow feeling of helplessness. The tiny sliver of hope that he wouldn’t think to take her phone shriveled and died. She managed to reach around to her rear pocket with her cuffed hands and retrieved the phone. He took it from her and held the button until it was completely powered off, then slipped it into his coat pocket. She didn’t know until that moment how much hope was contained in that miniscule electronic device. The locator app Linc had downloaded wouldn’t do her any good now.

“Get in.”

With no other option, she slid into the seat. He slammed the door shut and rounded the hood. Even with her hands cuffed, she was able to snap the seatbelt in place. He got in the car, turned the key, and the engine roared to life. Within seconds they were speeding down the road.

He’d said Tran and Robles weren’t dead—she hadn’t heard gunshots—but they had to be injured, and she didn’t think he’d have left them in any position to help her. They had to hold on until the other marshals arrived.

The car flew along the highway. Mikayla forced herself to push back on the fear gnawing at the edge of her mind. Fear paralyzed and gave the enemy the edge. She couldn’t sit around and wait to be rescued. If she was going to survive, she had to be smarter than her captor. She steadied her breathing and focused on her environment, watchful for anything that might be a means of escape. They were on a busy highway so she read the signs, and noted they were driving east toward the mountains. The scenery zipped past and Bertola weaved around other drivers, constantly accelerating and then braking. Where was the highway patrol? She tried to think how she could get a message to Linc. But he was in California. He would come. He would search for her.

But in the meantime, she had to rely in herself.

The thought that Linc would look for her helped block some of the fear. Her heart warmed a little at the memory of those silly texts. He’d claimed she’d slept in his arms that night in the tent. What would have happened if she’d woken when he had, had been conscious of snuggling up against all that hard muscle? But she’d slept soundly, better than she had in weeks, probably because he made her feel safe. In his arms, she’d been free from the fears that dogged her.

She cast a considering glance at Bertola. Because of Linc, she knew more about the man than he might realize. Maybe she could use that to her advantage. He knew she could place him at Peter’s house, but maybe he didn’t realize she knew Linc, or that Donny had been Linc’s partner.

“It won’t matter, you know.” Maybe if she could get him talking, he’d give up some information, something that could give her an edge.

“What won’t matter, Mikayla? I like that name. Pretty name for a pretty girl.”

Her stomach gave an uneasy roll at the comment. “If you kill me, it won’t matter that I can’t testify at Zecena’s trial. I already identified Paco Zecena as being present at Peter’s house before he was killed. They’ll be able to use that in the trial. Kidnapping me isn’t going to make a difference in that. Zecena will still go to prison.”

“There’s this little thing about the defense being able to question a witness, so any statement you’ve made has limited use if you’re dead.”

“Then why haven’t you killed me? Why bother to take me with you?”

“Because you have some use to me alive. But don’t worry, the end will be the same.” He took his eyes off the road to glance in her direction. “Nice Jeep you had there.”

Her skin chilled. “Jeep? It’s not mine.” Her stomach sank. He must have recognized the Jeep as Linc’s.

“Do you like driving it?”

“I’ve never driven it. It belongs to a marshal.”

“Boyfriend?” He acted like he wasn’t that interested, until he snaked out a hand and grabbed her chin, jerking her face toward him even as he swerved around a slow-moving van. “Answer me,” he barked, spittle coming out of his mouth.

She recoiled, pulling her chin away. “Not my boyfriend. One of the marshals was flying to California and left it in case I needed it.”

“You’re lying.”

She glanced uneasily at his profile and decided saying nothing was safest. Her spirits sank. She looked out the window, studying her surroundings as he lapsed into silence. The safe house had been east of Salt Lake City, and they’d continued in that direction through several towns and were climbing in altitude as they drove into the mountains. The sky had turned a dull, sullen gray.

With a glance in his rearview mirror, Donny pulled over into a turnout at the side of the highway. Taking out his phone, he tapped out a message. His attention was diverted, so Mikayla cocked her head to see the screen. The message he was sending contained the picture he’d taken of her, wrists in handcuffs.

“God, I wish I could see his expression when he gets this. That would be priceless.” His voice revealed barely contained excitement. He sat for a moment, fingers drumming on the steering wheel, knee bouncing. Then he slammed his fists repeatedly against the wheel in a frenzy of violence. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Okay, okay.” The repeated words seemed to calm him. He gripped the steering wheel. “Okay, this will have to do. It’ll be worth it to see him beg, then to shoot him dead. Finish the job.” He glanced at Mikayla before putting the car in drive and stomping on the accelerator so they skidded back onto the highway. The car surged ahead, hugging the tight mountain curves, tires squealing. She gripped the door hold as best she could with cuffed hands to keep from sliding in the seat.

Bertola continued his monologue. “He’ll beg. He’ll beg for me to let you go. I’ll let him think I will, then when he thinks he’s got you, I’ll shoot you. He should witness that. Make him realize how absolutely powerless he is. But we need to make finding you a challenge. Not too difficult, though. Make him think he’s got a chance to rescue you. Fucking white knight, that’s what he thinks he is. So goddamn idealistic. Thinks he’s better than me. I hate his fucking guts.”

“Who are you talking about?”

“Your boyfriend, of course. Lincoln fucking Jameson.” He looked at Mikayla’s expression and laughed so hard he let the car drift to the side of the road, tires spinning as he jerked it back onto the highway. Mikayla’s heart dropped and she clutched at the door handle when the car came perilously close to the guardrail that didn’t look sturdy enough to keep them from tumbling down the steep drop-off.

“Want to guess how I know he’s your boyfriend?” When she didn’t say anything, he goaded her. “Come on, Mikayla. Ask me, how do you know Linc’s my boyfriend?”

“Okay, how do you know Linc’s my boyfriend? Which he’s not.”

“God, you’re a piss-poor liar, but I’ll tell you anyway. See, I called Otis Bland, sheriff of Podunk, Utah. He’s almost as big an asshole as dear old Lincoln. Told him I was Linc’s supervisor, and he couldn’t wait to give me an earful. Linc never had much finesse, and he managed to tick the guy off royal. He was pretty eager to tell me that you and Linc had come in and a blind man could see something was going on between the two of you. Then you disappeared into a supply room, and he thought you must have been locking lips in there. Said Linc didn’t have a professional demeanor. I told him I’d write him up, but I’ll do better than that. This time I’ll go for a head shot.”

Cold crept around her heart. Donny’s motivation had become clear. Sure, he wanted to get rid of the only witness who could place both him and Paco Zecena at Peter’s murder, but more than that, he wanted to make Linc suffer. Whatever Linc had thought his relationship with his partner had been, Donny Bertola had never been his friend.

She glanced at him and he took his gaze off the road to look at her, then broke into his overloud laughter, like he was losing it completely.

***

Linc strode across the airport concourse, frustration in every step. The sparse news he’d gotten had told him something had happened at the safe house and he had no idea whether Mikayla had been harmed. A call to her phone had gone straight to voicemail. The Wi-Fi on the plane had been abysmally weak and he’d only been able to receive the single text message from Sanford saying there had been a breach. A fucking breach. Where had he heard that before?

He passed through the wide doors into the cool, late afternoon of a cloudy day. A black SUV, red and blue lights flashing, was parked in the passenger pick-up area. When Linc walked out of the terminal, a tall man with bright red hair flashed his marshal’s badge and credentials. “Marshal Jameson?” At Linc’s nod, he continued. “I’m Marshal Royce Beltran. Chief Sanford sent me to pick you up.”

“Fill me in while you drive.”

The crawl through the congestion surrounding the airport had Linc’s patience stretching to a near breaking point. Beltran described what had happened. Someone had breached the safe house, gotten the drop on two US Marshals, and walked out with the witness they were supposed to protect. “We’re still piecing it together. Tran and Robles were both knocked senseless and are at the hospital.”

“What happened to the witness? Where’s Mikayla O’Kane?”

“She’s unaccounted for.”

“What the hell do you mean she’s unaccounted for?” Fear, anger, frustration welled up until Linc felt like his emotions were choking him. He wanted to lash out, punch something. He forced the temper back. He had to use his head. How could this have gone so badly wrong? He’d promised Mikayla she would be safe, he’d left her in the care of others, and now she was “unaccounted for.”

“She sent Robles and Tran a text to get out. The window to her bedroom was open, along with an indication she got off the roof by climbing a trellis.”

“Is my Jeep still parked at the curb?” Please god, let her have driven off in it.

“Yes.”

“Son of a bitch.” He swore under his breath.

Linc pulled out his phone. He ignored the text message, instead flipping to the screen with the locator app. He activated the search for Mikayla, waiting impatiently for the little wheel to stop spinning. Location not available. Shit. She could be out of range of a cell tower. Or the app could have been disabled.

“Where are we going?”

“Marshals’ office downtown. Sanford wants to brief everyone and give out assignments. Finding Ms. O’Kane is top priority.”

“Damn well better be,” Linc growled. He went back to the text message. It was from Ellie. She and Seth were booked on a flight and would be in Salt Lake City within a couple of hours.

***

Linc stood at the back of the conference room, too wound up to sit. He set down the coffee cup he’d been sipping from. He was already wired and didn’t want his thinking addled by too much caffeine.

He’d tried to locate Mikayla using the app a half dozen times, but the “location not available” message kept coming up, making him want to heave his phone through the window. The bastard who’d taken her had probably trashed her phone. Linc tried to put a lid on the frustration and rage. Losing control wouldn’t help him find Mikayla. As much as he wanted to commandeer a vehicle and go search for her himself, he knew there was better chance at success if he was part of a team.

A half dozen marshals sat in attendance while Sanford briefed them. His voice was grim. “Finding Ms. O’Kane is our priority. We’re looking for an imposter, folks. This bastard posed as a marshal to gain access to the safe house and get the drop on Marshals Robles and Tran. Tran has yet to regain consciousness. Robles has a concussion but was able to give us a limited description.”

Linc’s phone vibrated with an incoming text. Number unknown, he thumbed it open, tapped the text icon, then stared at the image that made the blood freeze in his veins. Mikayla stared at him, green eyes sparking defiance, wrists shackled in handcuffs held in front of her. No message. Only that image to let him know that his heart had been taken.

“Fuck.”

Sanford raised a brow. “Marshal Jameson?”

Son of a bitch. God damn it. Linc stood stock-still as all the pieces came together like a tightly packed Tetris screen.

“Stay with me for a minute. What’s the description?” he interrupted. At Sanford’s blank look, Linc spat out, “Robles’s description of the imposter. What’s he look like?”

Sanford frowned. “White male, mid-thirties. About six foot. Dark hair.” He paused, eyes sharpening. “You think it’s Bertola.”

“I’ll bet my pension it’s Bertola.”

Linc tapped on the photos icon to pull up the one he’d shown at the meeting the day before. He tapped again before speaking. “I’m sending you the photo. Send it to Robles, ask if he’s the guy.”

Sanford retrieved his phone and adjusted his reading glasses. A moment later he muttered, “Got it.” He tapped a few times. “I sent it to her. Might take her a few minutes to get back to us.”

Linc handed his phone to Sanford, his throat so tight he could barely speak. “This came in a minute ago.”

Sanford’s head snapped up and his lips thinned to nonexistent.

He glanced at the rest of the marshals. “We have confirmation Mikayla O’Kane is a hostage.”

The room erupted with curses. “This doesn’t change the plan, people. We suspected as much. Now we know.” Sanford handed Linc’s phone to the marshal working on a laptop. “Get this distributed everywhere.” The marshal took the phone, tapped for a moment, then handed it back to Linc.

Voices came from the hall outside the conference room and Ellie walked in, followed by Seth and a female marshal Linc didn’t recognize. He felt the tension inside him ease a fraction, and for the first time in hours felt a flicker of hope. He didn’t have anything against Sanford, he was a good leader, but hands down, Seth was the best there was, and Ellie brought her own special mojo.

Seth beckoned the unknown woman forward. “Linc, this is my rookie, Deputy Marshal Isabella Nikolaev.”

Linc shook the woman’s hand. Tall and willowy, she had long black hair plastered in a tight bun at the back of her neck and startling blue eyes. She gave him a wide smile. “It’s Bella, and pleased to meet you.” The words held the whisper of an accent.

Sanford approached, phone in hand. His gaze zeroed in on Linc. “Robles confirmed Bertola’s our guy.”

Linc strapped down on the rage bubbling inside him. He’d see Mikayla safe, then he’d take grim satisfaction in pulling the trigger and shooting his former partner between the eyes.

Linc showed Seth the photo of Mikayla in handcuffs.

“What the hell? That fucker has Mikayla.” Seth rarely let loose, but his iron control had been shaken.

“Yeah.” Linc shook his head. “He still has his marshal’s star and creds and used them to get into the safe house.”

“How would Bertola know your connection to Mikayla?”

Linc looked at his brother. “The only way I can figure is that Hector Lopez must have gotten word to Zecena, identifying me as the marshal with Mikayla. We know Donny’s working for Zecena, and Zecena knows I’m on the case.” His mind reeled. “I hope to God Donny hasn’t figured out—” He broke off when Sanford moved forward and everyone in the room went quiet.

“Figured out what? No holding back now,” the chief deputy said.

“That Mikayla and I are involved. It’ll make things that much worse for her.” He’d get busted for that later, but he didn’t give a damn. Hell, Sanford had already called Mikayla Linc’s girl.

“Why is that?” the marshal at the laptop asked.

Ellie answered. “Donny has always been jealous of Linc.”

“Not always. Only about women.”

“Always, Linc.” Ellie turned to Sanford. “Linc is smarter and he’s a better marshal. Women respond to him. Donny is a screw-up, as well as an idiot around women. I ran into him at a bar once.” She glanced at her brother. “I told you about it, but you blew me off.” She continued, “Donny was pretty lit, and sloppy with it. He couldn’t stop blabbing. Kept making comments about Linc. He acted like it was all in fun, but it was clear he resented Linc. Said he lived a charmed life. He thought my brothers and I get special privileges because our stepdad is Arch Bollinger.”

Sanford’s brows went up and someone in the room whistled. “Your stepdad is Archer Bollinger?”

Ellie rolled her eyes. “Yep, he is.”

“Don’t you start,” Linc muttered.

“The man’s a legend.”

“He’s our stepdad,” she stated.

Seth brought them back on task. “Our original theory that Bertola was a liability to the cartel wasn’t correct. Instead of running from them, he ran for them. If Mikayla testifies, Bertola and Zecena are looking at the death penalty. Zecena’s goal is to kill Mikayla so she can’t testify. No doubt, that’s Bertola’s ultimate goal as well.” Seth glanced at Linc. “Sorry, but that’s the bottom line.”

“I know.” Linc rubbed the center of his chest.

“Our advantage is Bertola’s relationship to Linc,” Seth continued. “My brother knows him, knows his moves, how he acts in a clutch situation. We need to use Donny’s resentment against him. He already screwed up by sending the picture of Mikayla. He wants to fuck with Linc. But Bertola tipped his hand. No one else would bother taunting Linc.”

Seth eyed the assembled marshals. “My bet is Bertola wants to finish the job he failed at a few months ago. He wants to take Linc out. From what Ellie said, resentment has been building beneath the surface for years, and it’s got to eat at him that he failed to kill him the first time around.”

Linc nodded. “Ellie’s right. Donny’s made this personal. He wants to finish what he started when he shot me. Finishing it means killing me, and using Mikayla to get at me feeds into the narrative.”

Another marshal came in and handed Sanford a folded slip of paper. Linc took a second to pull out his phone to try again with the locator app.

“Then we’ll use that to our advantage.” Seth addressed Sanford. “Can you track the location of the phone used to send Linc the photo of Mikayla?”

Sanford waved the paper. “Says here it was a burner phone, so no.”

“I got her.”

All eyes went to Linc. He held up his phone so Sanford could see the map. “Where’s this?”

Sanford brought the reading glasses from the top of his head to perch on the end of his nose. “Mountains east of here. Cell coverage is spotty up there, so I’m surprised you got anything.”

Linc shook his head. “I’m not surprised. Donny had her phone off until he was ready for me to know her location. He picked someplace with cell coverage because he wants me to come for her.

“He’s laying a trap.”