Ryan, Reece, Barry, and Maxine had all taken up different quadrants around the abandoned house and barn. Careful monitoring enabled them to see who moved about the premise. Ryan grit his teeth at the slow pace of reconnaissance. Hurry up and wait. He’d been on a dozen infiltrative operations, but nothing like this. The usual spine-tingling thrill of the fight was supplanted by anxious dread.
What if she’d been injured? What if she’d been killed?
Claire had discovered that Brad owed money to Los Jaguares, a Miami-based Cuban gang. She hadn’t pinned the dollar amount but surmised it was sizable—worth finding Brad’s ex-wife, Jenna, to collect it, even if it meant traveling to Chicago, stealing a van, and kidnapping a woman.
“Activity.” Ryan heard Reece’s voice in his earbud.
He watched as three Latino men left the house and walked to the barn. They had a house but chose to keep her in the barn?
Animals.
Then again, maybe she was isolated overnight from five foul men for her own safety.
One man carried a laptop folded under his arm. They would need a computer to do a wire transfer. Once she gave them what they wanted, or as much as they could squeeze, she was a dead woman. That sickening thought mummified his intestines.
Maxine’s voice came through the ear bud, “That leaves one in the house and the rest in the barn. Barry, you take the house.”
“Copy, Max.”
Rustling sounded through the com device as Barry followed the command and moved to his position.
“Barry?”
“Ma’am.”
“Shoot to maim, please. I don’t want to have to explain to local PD why we killed people on their turf.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Ok. Everyone else will advance on the barn. Ryan and Reece go through the front. I’ll take the side. No friendly fire.”
They took their orders and moved cautiously from the woods to the field to the barn.
Ryan scanned the perimeter again. No movement on his side of the property.
Although outside was a relatively warm day for Illinois in May, Jenna’s bones felt cold in her moist exercise clothes on the dank barn floor. Fortunately, no breeze penetrated the wood walls or she would have felt colder. If her captors kept her out here for another night, she would either die of hypothermia or dehydration.
Escape sooner rather than later.
She forced herself to sit up slowly and stretch her major muscle groups.
Three Latino men entered the barn.
Four guys for one debt collection. Must be bad.
The kind of bad that maxing out her credit cards wasn’t going to cover. The kind of bad that makes a group of men travel from Miami to Chicago. They had to be from Miami since that was where Brad lived in and out of incarceration these days. She had hoped Brad wouldn’t learn she went to Chicago. She moved when they separated, and she didn’t have family in the state, only Jess. However, a little Internet investigative search would have turned her up since she had to get an Illinois medical license.
Alaska. Why didn’t I move to Alaska?
One man’s eyes were fixed in a scowl. Another man’s dark circles surrounded dilated pupils. A third looked away as though unable to look his victim in the eye. Perhaps he had some remaining humanity to at least feel remorseful for what they were about to inflict upon her. Whatever it was, it was bad enough to make a criminal bashful. His expression was the most terrifying. Lastly stood the man with droopy eyes, weary from being her overnight guard.
Four men. Grumpy. Dopey. Bashful. Sleepy.
Dopey and Bashful hauled her up by her elbows to her feet. Her legs wobbled, but their firm grips kept her upright. Grumpy snapped open the laptop causing Jenna to recoil. The men on either side of her kept her from going anywhere.
Grumpy ran his fingers over the keyboard. She recognized him as the one she had kicked in the face.
“Listo,” he said.
He turned the screen to face Jenna.
Video chat with a loan shark, splendid.
Wait. How do they have service out here? Hot spot?
The man on the screen wore a blue button down dress shirt with an expensive looking sheen. He was clean-shaven and well-rested. Both hands had tattoos though she couldn’t read the words.
“Do you know who I am, Dr. Masters?” His rich voice with Hispanic accent oozed a deadly calm.
My executioner?
Jenna swallowed. “No.”
“My name is Ernesto Busta. I am the leader of Los Jaguares. Your husband owes me a great deal of money.”
“Ex-husband,” she croaked through a dry mouth. She held her breath waiting to see if Grumpy intended to get violent over her correction. Her mind raced. Los Jaguares? So Brad had landed trouble with a gang, not a loan shark? Or were they a gang that also loaned money? She pleaded ignorant about how the underworld operated.
Ernesto smiled, dark and sinister. “Lo siento. Your ex-husband owes me money.”
He gave a long pause.
Jenna rode out the silence. If she admitted to having money, then they could demand access to her accounts now to prove it. Once they saw she didn’t have enough (because surely she did not), they would kill her. If she openly admitted to having none, then she proved no use to them and also as good as dead.
“He tells me you can get your hands on three hundred thousand dollars.”
Jenna felt her jaw drop.
Three hundred thousand pennies maybe.
Why would Brad tell them that? From what imaginary hat had he pulled that number?
Yet the number seemed familiar somehow.
Yes, life insurance. Brad’s life insurance policy was that amount. Had he kept paying it for a year after their divorce? Maybe he had for Cal’s sake. Perhaps a gambling CPA had the wherewithal to make some appropriate financial decisions.
But the only way it would come to her would be if Brad were—
“Is Brad alive?”
The thought of Cal losing his father—well, what remained of the scum-sucking troll who signed her death warrant—sent a lump of ice hardening in her stomach. Her head began throbbing.
“For now,” Ernesto said with a shrug.
A voice boomed through the barn like the celestial voice of a condemning arc angle. “Rider Security. Nobody move!”
Ryan!
Hope jolted her heart into double-time.
He was dressed in brown camouflage. His gun was drawn and aimed at the men surrounding her.
She watched in horror as Los Jaguares did exactly the opposite of what they had been instructed to do.
Sleepy, being unencumbered by either holding the victim or the laptop, drew his weapon first.
Ryan, seemingly unconcerned, kept his gun trained on the men holding Jenna.
A shot rang out from somewhere to Ryan’s back left.
Jenna flinched.
Wyatt! —Er, Reece.
Ryan’s mustached gunslinger was to the right of Ryan and two paces behind him.
Sleepy crumpled to the floor.
One captor released her as he reached for his gun. The other stammered back standing behind Jenna, but still holding her. Clumsily, he reached for his gun.
She had to get free or he was going to use her as a human shield as soon as he gripped his weapon in his hand.
Ryan yelled, “Jenna, get down!”
She was already wriggling out of her loose hand restraints. With one arm free, she spun her elbow into the man’s face. He jerked his head to the side. Her glancing blow didn’t do much damage but forced him to release her. She felt vaguely aware of pain in her elbow where his teeth had come in contact with her skin.
She dropped to her knees and rolled backward, bracing her ears for Ryan to shoot. Adrenaline overrode the aches and pains she had felt earlier as she sprang to her feet and bolted for the back door of the barn. Not bothering with the locked latch, she drew her leg back toward her. As she kicked the door with one solid strike, the weak and rusty lock crumpled and the wood around it splintered.
Gunfire erupted behind her, but she didn’t stop to look.
A cold breeze swept across the farmland. It struck mercilessly at her bare legs and arms. She ran, legs pumping ferociously over the uneven ground. The area must have once been a crop field because the ground undulated in a series of ridges beneath her fleeing feet, threatening to twist an ankle.
Then her lungs and legs gave way to exhaustion. Her body went horizontal as it declared its hundred-meter dash complete.
The brown grass twisted thick, tall, and coarse around her body. She gasped for air as the world grew dark around her.
Don’t let the maggots get me.
Ryan put a round in each of the knees of the two men who had held Jenna. Maxine shot the one with the laptop in the shoulder. Barry came in behind them and helped Maxine secure the weapons from the Cuban mafia.
Ryan looked around the barn one last time ensuring the scene was safe for his team. All of the assailants rolled on the ground, clutching injuries as they screamed and swore.
“Go, man,” Reece said. “We got this.”
Ryan sprinted in the direction Jenna had escaped. She had fled like a bunny from foxes. With bullets flying, he felt relieved she had run and avoided catching a stray.
He exited the broken back door. His eyes roamed the tall grass, but he couldn’t see her. He slowed to a jog. “Jenna!”
Silence.
Flat, unkempt land spread before him. Cool, dry air brushed against his cheeks and forehead.
Deep in the brittle brown reeds he caught a glimpse of something white. As he approached, he saw her white sleeveless T-shirt and spandex exercise shorts as she lay crumpled in the grass.
“God, Jenna,” he gasped.
She didn’t move even as he knelt near her. Her knees were scrapped and her bruised arms looked like someone clobbered them with a baseball bat.
Cursing, he holstered his weapon.
When he leaned over her, he could see that she was still breathing. The cool, clammy extremities lax around her had him worried about shock. He lifted her gingerly into his arms.
She mumbled something indiscernible, but her body remained limp and her eyes closed.
Did she call me a maggot?
Hopefully that meant she still had some fight left in her. In his field experience, people in shock didn’t hurtle insults.
He walked back through the field toward the farmhouse.
By the time Ryan got Jenna back to the barn, Maxine pulled the SUV up the driveway.
With Reece’s help, they loaded her in the back seat and wrapped a thermal blanket from the medical kit around her. They left Maxine and Barry behind who were calling the police for cleanup detail. Reece drove as Ryan sat with Jenna in the back of the vehicle.
He watched her rest in his arms.
Thirty minutes into their planned route to the nearest urgent care facility or hospital, Jenna stirred awake.
Large green eyes slowly focused on him.
“Ryan.”
His heart instantly swelled to hear her say his name with such relief and pleasure.
She sat up and buried herself in his arms. It was the closest he had ever been to her, and the embrace stole his breath. He hated the circumstances, but was grateful she was alive and the roll he’d played in ensuring her safety.
“You’re safe, Jenna.” Ryan stroked her disheveled copper hair. “We’re taking you to a medical facility to get checked out.”
She sat up slowly, blinking away tears. “I’m okay. A few scrapes is all.”
“Jenna—“
“Ryan, I promise I’m okay. I need my own bed and nourishment. That’s all.”
He looked at her for a long moment, trying to decide if he would have any success disagreeing with her.
Nope.
With pursed lips, Ryan nodded. “Reece.”
“I’m on it.”
Ryan handed Jenna a bottle of water.
She gave him a grateful look as she snatched it and downed it.
“I’m sorry for calling you. And I’m grateful you brought the cavalry.”
“Well, Wyatt brought the cavalry. I turned green and angry.”
Jenna chuckled. The sound warmed Ryan to his core.
“Thank you, Reece.” Her eyes glanced upward at the rearview mirror briefly.
“Anything for Ryan’s ... uh ... friend.”
Jenna finished the last drop of water and looked at Ryan, blushing. He preferred those rosy cheeks to the ashen color they’d been in the field.
She looked down at his chest as though wanting to find her way back into him but unsure how.
“Come here,” he said, pulling her toward him.
She curled up in his arms.
He resisted the urge to probe her with questions. How much of what happened did she understand? She didn’t have the benefit of a computer whiz gathering information for her. Had Jenna learned anything from her captors? Did she comprehend her rescue was only the beginning of the battle to come?
“Just rest. We’ll get you home.”