The seat belt dug into Rich’s chest. The airbag exploded, and powder dusted his mouth. Gagging, he gasped for air. Glass from his window littered the truck, and the headlights cut a crazy angle through the trees to the river several feet below them. “Dana?”
No answer.
Rich shook his head to clear the ringing pain and tried to pull away from the seat, but the belt had locked into position. He reached for her. “Dana!”
She slumped forward and to the side, motionless. Her head rested against the passenger window.
No. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. She was supposed to—
Dana moaned then slowly lifted her hands and pushed away from the door. “Okay. So seat belts hurt more than I thought they would.” The words were slow but strong.
Thank You, Jesus. Rich breathed the quick prayer then fumbled the seat belt release and shoved out of the truck, racing for Dana’s side of the vehicle.
On the road above him, two car doors slammed. Two unfamiliar male voices talked over one another.
They didn’t have long.
The passenger door didn’t budge with his first pull. It took a second, greater heave that nearly pitched him backward when the door jerked open.
He reached for Dana. “Can you move?”
“They’re coming. Let’s do this.” She slid out of the truck slower than he’d have liked and wrapped her fingers into the back of his shirt. “You lead. My ears are ringing too loud from cracking my head. I can’t hear anything.”
Rich’s jaw tensed. If she had a concussion, the whole plan had changed. Maybe they should make a run for it.
Dana shoved his back. “Get moving.”
As much as his entire being screamed to protect her, she’d never forgive him if he called an audible and changed course this late in the game.
Rich tilted his head to listen. Tree limbs cracked closer, and voices grew louder. He gauged their direction then plunged into the underbrush to their right, away from the headlights, angling toward the river.
He moved as quickly as he dared, crunching snow-dusted leaves and breaking twigs too loudly under his feet, giving away their position, making it impossible to hide.
A flashlight caught them in its beam, and Dana stopped, her firm grip halting his forward momentum and pulling him back toward her.
“I would stop there if I were you, or I will put a bullet through both of you at the same time.” The heavily accented voice came from the direction of the flashlight.
“No. You won’t.” The tension at his back released as Dana let go and turned away from him, tearing him in two. “You need me alive. I’ve seen the directive. There’s a no-kill order. Violate it, and you’ll be the one facing a bullet.” Her voice was louder now, likely more bravado than strength. “Speaking of bullets, since when did a gun come into the mix? I thought the Hernandez cartel only played with knives.”
Rich turned, praying their eyes were focused on Dana and her trash talk. He was careful to stay behind her yet ready to strike. If this went sideways, he’d have to shove her out of the way and draw quickly. His skin burned hot with fear for her life, and his hand trembled in a way it never had before. If he had to fire, he could only hope the shot didn’t go wild.
This was too much like Amber’s murder. Danger had invaded the personal space of the woman he loved, and he was helpless to protect her.
Cold metal pricked the back of his neck. A second voice spoke. “We like our knives, but Espectro has made life difficult.” The prick deepened, and a warm trickle ran down the back of Rich’s neck. “He requires a different method.”
Rich held his body rigid. If he didn’t, they could kill Dana and him in an instant.
Dana stepped away from Rich, her arms out to the sides. “Let him live and I’ll go with you peacefully. It will make your lives easier now, and it will make your wallets fat later. If you kill him?” She tilted her head. “Well, if you kill him, then none of us will get out of this alive. I will fight you all the way to South America. Every step. We had a deal. My life for my mother’s. You’ve already violated the terms by running us off the road and trying to take me before the time and place we agreed upon.”
The pressure at Rich’s neck eased, but not much. “As if we would let you reach a predetermined meeting location where your agents could be waiting.” The words ground out, dripping with malice.
Dana couldn’t do this. She couldn’t give herself up to them. It was all wrong. They never should have plotted such a risky plan. Never.
What if they were wrong about the no-kill? She would be dead, and it would be his fault for not fighting with all of his strength. Not fighting for her the way he’d promised. His hand drifted toward his weapon, but the pressure at his neck increased, piercing deeper.
Blood snaked down his neck. “I can sever your spinal cord very quickly.” The man sounded as though he’d take great pleasure in doing so.
Dana flinched and looked over her shoulder at him, her face shadowed. “No. I’m going with you.” For the first time, her voice wavered.
“Enough talk. We move.” The flashlight beam bobbed, and footsteps crunched closer.
Dana held up a hand. “Wait.” She turned to Rich again, though he couldn’t see her face in the glare of the flashlight behind her. “I’m sorry.” She reached for him, letting her thumb brush his cheek.
She should have gone for the gun at his side instead.
The flashlight closed the distance, and Dana was jerked away from him, stumbling backward.
She didn’t let them rattle her. “You let him go or I fight. That’s the only way I walk willingly.”
There was a pause, then an exchange in rapid Spanish.
The pressure at his neck released. A hand found his pistol, and there was a skittering crunch as it landed somewhere in the woods behind him. His captor jerked Rich toward a tree and pulled his hands behind him around the bark, zip-tying his wrists firmly. Pain flamed through his body from his rehabbed shoulder.
He should fight. He could take them both. He could stop this from—
“You are the big hero.” A swift, hard kick slammed into his ribs, exploding with pain as a shadow towered above him. “Yet you could not save her.”
He doubled over, coughing and gasping for air. By the time he caught his breath, they were gone.
His chin dropped to his chest, the fight gone. His shoulder protested its unnatural position, and his ribs throbbed from the blow. If Dana died—
Footsteps ground into the leaves, coming from somewhere behind him and near the road. Cautious, stealthy, almost inaudible over the sound of his heart pounding. A figure circled him, weapon drawn, creeping closer. “They’re gone?”
“They’re gone. Kill the truck lights before someone calls the police.”
Emily’s shadow passed by and walked toward the truck. The sudden darkness matched the darkness in Rich’s soul. Letting them take Dana had been harder than he’d imagined it would be. Too many echoes of the past.
“How’s Web?” It had been his job to warn them when the bad guys showed up, to lend credibility to the ruse and to let them think they were winning.
“He’s good. They ran him off the road about a mile back. Completely missed me driving behind him. He was the perfect little decoy.” Emily laughed, but the sound was grim. They all knew the stakes. “We’ll pick him up when we get out of here. How about you? That was a swift kick to the ribs.”
Rich winced. “Sore, but I don’t think he broke anything. It’ll hurt worse tomorrow.”
“So will the wreck.” She holstered her pistol and sat back on her heels beside him, eye to eye, faintly illuminated by the moonlight. Someone would call the police soon and they needed to get out before the authorities kept them tied up at a station somewhere. Federal agents would work out the details with local authorities later, but they’d be in no hurry to do so tonight. “Do you know how hard it was not to peg the guy holding a knife to your neck? I had a clean shot. It went against everything in my training to be passive.”
“I know.” His voice hung low and heavy. His entire military career had honed him into a warrior. Standing still, forcing himself to be helpless was not in his DNA. His heart pounded. His skin drew a cold sweat. If he couldn’t wrestle down this panic, he was going to be sick. He focused on the pain in his side, trying to ground himself. “This had better work.”
“I know it’s hard, but you’re dealing with a trained federal task force. They know what they’re doing.” Emily clicked on a pocket flashlight then slipped behind him and analyzed the zip ties. “Give me a sec to cut you out. Besides, the team knows exactly where she is. Those shoes are genius. Web once tracked one of my trail runs while he was stationed overseas. That GPS unit in the sole is practically indestructible. As long as they don’t make her change clothes, that little device will lead them right to her location and the cartel’s home base.”
The bindings around Rich’s wrists fell away, and he scrambled up as quickly as he could with his side throbbing. “Where’s your car?”
“Slow down, cowboy. If we follow them too closely, we blow everything.” Emily rested a hand on his shoulder and forced him to look at her in the dim reflection from her flashlight. Her expression was serious yet sympathetic. “Trust the plan. Better yet, trust God. This is going to work.”
The door clicked shut, and a key turned in the lock.
Dana was alone.
She would count to sixty to give them time to move away from the door, then she’d free her hands from the plastic cuffs at her wrists and her eyes from the blindfold they’d used to keep her in the dark. She ticked off the seconds. One...two...three...
Sure, federal agents and Rich would come for her, but she wasn’t about to wait around bound and helpless.
Rich. This plan had to be gutting him. They’d taken a huge risk asking the joint task force to hang back while the bad guys took Dana, but it was the only way to make this work. If either cartel thought they were being watched by federal agents, they’d switch the plan and there would be no chance of ending their reigns permanently.
It had been hard for her, as well. Seeing him with a knife at his neck...
She shuddered. Since they’d blindfolded her, the image of him in the beam of a flashlight, centimeters from paralysis or death had been the only thing she could see. If he’d died, the blame would have been on her.
Hot nausea threatened to drive her to her knees. Simply imagining his death was enough to send her emotions into the abyss, but Rich had lived that horror. She could understand him more now, could understand in part what it must have been like to witness the death of someone he loved.
Of someone she loved. Dana’s counting stuttered to a stop. Blindfolded and bound, she had to face what was in her heart.
There was no point in denying it any longer. Seeing Rich in danger had rushed truth into her soul. From the moment she’d met him, he’d been different, and she’d lied to herself about it. Told herself that his selflessness, his humor and his loyalty were all things she didn’t deserve. All things he gave freely.
All things that had endeared him to her. Things she no longer wanted to live without.
They both had to survive this so she could confess the truth. But right now, she had to shift her focus from him to making this plan work. She had to fight. Her captors wouldn’t expect her to be passive. If she was, it would raise suspicion.
She needed a battle plan in case things skidded out of control.
The count reset her focus. Twenty-two...twenty-three...twenty-four...
Dana inhaled deeply and tried to pinpoint her surroundings. New carpet, paint? Her eyebrows drew together. A construction site?
Wherever she was, it was likely a working front for their organization. They weren’t concerned about her crying out, or they’d have gagged her as well as blindfolded her. Unless they’d hijacked someone’s building, the Hernandez cartel was well entrenched in order to have a hideout in plain sight.
Forty...forty-one...forty-two...
Dana forced herself to sit still. It was difficult to gauge the size of the room, but if sound was an indicator, the space wasn’t large. Her heart rate picked up. Claustrophobia had never been an issue, but being blind in a strange place changed things. Her mouth went dry.
Fifty-nine... “Sixty.” The whisper of her voice in the room’s stillness bolstered her enough to move.
Their first mistake had been zip-tying her hands in front of her. Dana pulled the blindfold from her eyes and glanced around the small space. Light filtered under the door and illuminated a room about six feet by eight feet. Drywall dust powdered the floor. Empty shelves ran from floor to ceiling. A supply closet, most likely.
Her wrists chafed from the thin plastic restraints, but a few seconds of pain would set her free. Raising her hands above her head, she winced inside as she brought them down toward her knees and spread her elbows. With a soft pop, the ties fell away.
She sagged with relief, rubbing her raw, red wrists. Raising her feet, she forced her knees apart as she brought them down, narrowly missing a loud thud with the ground. The zip ties around her ankles popped free.
Voices drifted in, too soft to discern words. It sounded like three, possibly four men. No women. No way to know if there were only a handful or if a dozen more listened silently.
Oh, how she hated to fight blind.
Dana eased up to stand and inspected the space, but it was empty except for the built-in metal shelves. For the time being she was stuck, waiting for the federal task force to arrive. Lord, don’t let the battery in these running shoes give out. If it did...
Nope. No worst-case scenarios. She didn’t let her witnesses think that way, and she didn’t let her team think that way. No way was she giving in to fear and frustration.
She slipped to the door, careful to be silent in case someone stood watch outside. Pressing her ear to the wood, she tried to make out the conversation.
The voices hummed in a low murmur, but the rapidity of the speech and the overlap of words indicated the discussion was heated. A mix of Spanish and English, based on the little she could make out.
“Keeping her alive is foolish!” A voice shouted in heavily accented English, then dropped lower, bringing only snatches of sentences to her. “Kill her now! If Jairo and Rachel dare... Kill them, as well. The risk is too great.”
Enough. Dana inhaled deeply and clamped down on the icy fear threatening to swamp her.
Someone was coming for her, all right, and it wasn’t just her team. The federal task force had expected lieutenants or higher in the organizations to show up, but not the top tier. Her birth parents were coming. Which was more frightening? Death? Or facing the killers who had birthed her yet hadn’t wanted her?
What made them want to risk their lives and their empire now?
Nothing made sense. None of it needed to. Her life was nothing to these men, and they had no reason to keep her alive. She had to find a way to defend herself in case the team didn’t show up in time.
She silently paced the small space, investigating every shelf. The metal was bolted too tightly for her to unscrew a piece of it by hand.
When they came for her, all she had was the element of surprise.
And training in hand-to-hand combat. Hopefully, it was enough.
The voices stopped. Footsteps. Some moved away from her. One set moved closer. A low, tuneless whistle drew nearer.
A key rasped into the lock.
Dana slipped to the side of the door, backed against the wall, and wrestled her beating heart and her shaking hands into submission.
This was her one shot. She would either survive the next ten seconds or...
The knob turned, and the door pushed open.