“I see. Olivia is the book, Owen is the tablet and you’re the hammer?” She nodded slowly, taking it all in, but he couldn’t read her expression. Cocking her head to one side, she narrowed her gaze. “And am I represented by the dead man in the middle or the blood?”
He pointed to the black velvet box off to one side. “I think that is supposed to be for you.”
Owen collected the box from the floor and tipped the lid back on its gold hinges. Stepping near the perimeter of the scene, he stared up at Ana with a whole other level of excitement inching his smile wide. “Will you marry us, Ana?”
“Please?” Olivia asked. “We want you to stay. Forever.”
The rush of air escaping from between Ana’s lips cut through the hard beat of his heart behind his ears. She wiped the tears streaming down her cheeks with the back of her hand as another laugh escaped her control. Balancing the crutch under her arm, she sank a bit deeper on her uninjured leg to take the box from Owen. She turned toward Benning.
“I know I asked you to give up working for TCD to protect the kids, but it wasn’t fair and it wasn’t my place.” He removed the ring from the box, the round diamond set in the platinum band strong enough to sustain any damage accrued during her future investigations. “I realized too late I was protecting myself. I wanted a promise you wouldn’t disappear when the case was over, but asking you to stop helping people in need is like asking you to stop being the woman I fell in love with. And I love you just the way you are. I always have. Ana Sofia Ramirez—” he dropped to one knee, ignoring whatever sludge he’d just knelt in and slipped the ring onto her finger “—will you marry me?”
She smoothed her thumb across his bottom lip, the diamond sparkling from the low light coming through Olivia’s window. “I told you I can’t say no to those faces.”
“Is that a yes, then?” he asked.
“Yes!” She tilted her head up to kiss him as he stood, and the excited screams from his kids fell into the back of his mind. Right then, there was only Ana. His strong, beautiful, determined FBI agent who hadn’t just saved his kids’ lives but completed his. “I love you. I’ve always loved you. You’ve always owned this part of me, and I know without a doubt you’re the reason I didn’t follow in Ericson’s footsteps, Benning.”
“I love you.” He framed his hands around her face and kissed her again with everything he had. “And I’m always here for you. No matter what. But given your choice of career and the fact we have two humans to watch out for together, I think it’s time I learned how to properly use a gun.”
“Ewww.” The tandem protest from Owen and Olivia cut through the heat searing across his skin where Ana touched him.
He laughed.
“This is only the beginning. It’s going to get worse. Day. Night. In the bathroom. They’re everywhere.” His heart squeezed as she stared up at him with that gut-wrenching smile. Benning tightened his hold on her, a promise to have each other’s backs. Forever. “Are you ready for your next assignment, Agent Ramirez?”
She studied the scene the twins had made in Olivia’s bedroom, then faced him again. “I think I’m up for the challenge.”
* * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from Evasive Action by Carol Ericson.
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Evasive Action
by Carol Ericson
Chapter One
The snowy-white tulle of April’s veil rustled as she climbed out the window. Her satin shoes landed in the moist dirt with a squishy sound. She yanked the frothy concoction from her head and stashed it behind a bush.
She took a deep breath and peered around the corner of the house, her curls falling over one shoulder. The stretch limo gleamed in the morning sun of New Mexico, and she shivered. The car looked more like a hearse now—her hearse. Who said New Mexico was the land of enchantment?
Narrowing her eyes, she chewed the strawberry-flavored gloss off her bottom lip. If she fled in the limo, it could be tracked, but at least it would solve her immediate problem of no funds. She considered creeping back through the house to retrieve her purse, but she valued her life too much—at least someone did.
How far could she get barreling down the highway in a stretch limo? Way too conspicuous—sort of like this wedding dress.
She patted the lace bodice of one side of her dress to make sure she still had the strange wooden disc she’d found in Jimmy’s desk, and then drew out her cell phone from the other side. She tapped the icon for the car app loaded on her phone and smiled at the little dots on the map—her saviors.
She called up a car, and then strolled to the front gate, although her feet itched to break into a run. This couldn’t be a clean getaway, not with Jimmy’s security at his beck and call, but nobody suspected a thing at this point. She could play the blushing bride for another ten minutes. Hell, she’d played at being in love with Jimmy for the past six months.
Oscar, the guy working security at the front gate to Jimmy’s estate, jumped to his feet. “Getting cold feet, April?”
“Just jonesing for a smoke. I know how much Jimmy hates cigarettes and I’m trying to squeeze in a few before I quit for good.” She pinched the low neckline of her gown between her fingers and adjusted it. “You have one I can bum?”
Oscar’s gaze followed the movement, his eyes widening for a second. “I—I do.”
“That’s what I’ll be saying in an hour. I’d really appreciate it...and I’ll step outside the grounds so Jimmy won’t know a thing.” She put a finger to her pouting lips. “You know I’m good at keeping secrets, don’t you, Oscar?”
Oscar’s face reddened, obviously remembering the time she caught him rummaging through Jimmy’s desk, and he scrambled for a cigarette in his front pocket. “I know that, April, and I appreciate it.”
He shook a cigarette free from a crumpled pack and held it out toward her.
Sliding it from the pack between her index and middle fingers, she said, “Thanks. Got a light?”
He flicked his lighter, and she leaned in to touch the end of the cigarette to the flame.
She waved the cigarette at the gate. “I’ll just slip outside to enjoy it, and if Jimmy happens to smell it on me... I didn’t get it from you.”
“Of course not, thanks.” He lunged for the gate, probably happy to get her out of his sight before she could get anything else on him to report to his boss.
Holding the cigarette in one hand and the skirt of her dress in the other, she stepped outside the gates of Jimmy’s compound. She traipsed down the drive to the street, her breath coming in short spurts. Her gaze shifted from side to side. She’d better not bump into any guests arriving early for the nuptials—Jimmy’s guests.
Once she turned a corner and got clear of Oscar’s sight, she dropped the cigarette and crushed it under the toe of her shoe. Then she pulled out her phone again and texted Adam. The wedding is off. Don’t come near the estate. Don’t go near Jimmy.
The phone buzzed in her hand, and she answered the call from the app car on its way. “Hello?”
“I’m about a block away in a blue Honda. Big houses here. Can I get in the gate?”
“I’m outside the gate. I’ll be waiting on the sidewalk. Hurry.”
“Uh, okay.”
Two minutes later, a Honda pulled up to the curb. April checked the license plate, compared the driver to the picture on her phone and jumped in the back seat. “Go!”
The driver’s bugged-out eyes met hers in the rearview mirror. “Where am I going?”
“The nearest bus stop. Wait.” Her fingers creased her satin skirt into folds. How co
uld she buy a bus ticket? She had no money. No wallet. No credit cards. She’d be a sitting duck at any bus stop for Jimmy and his so-called business associates. Now she understood why he always had an entourage. Idiot.
“Keep driving.” She pounded the back of the driver’s headrest. “I’m thinking.”
“Are you running away from your own wedding or something?” The driver adjusted his glasses and punched the accelerator.
“Yes.” She reached into the front seat and grabbed his arm, turning his laugh into a snort. “What’s your name?”
“Jesse.”
“Jesse, I have a deal for you.” April tugged at the diamond ring on her left hand. “I’ll trade you this ring for your car.”
Turning his head, he squinted at the ring cupped in her palm. “Nice rock, but I can’t do it. I need my ride to make money. This is the only job I have.”
She slumped back in her seat. She could pawn the ring for cash, but that meant she’d be wandering around Albuquerque in this damned dress.
“My friend Ryan might be down, though.”
“Really?” She shot forward again. “Where’s Ryan?”
“He lives about ten miles from here. He’s trying to sell his car, and he might take that piece for it instead of cash.”
“Perfect.”
She waited until Jesse hit the highway. Then she buzzed down the window and chucked her phone outside. She wouldn’t be able to contact Adam anymore, but Jimmy couldn’t trace her whereabouts.
Thirty minutes later, the trade with Ryan went smoother than she expected, and he even threw in a hundred bucks, cash, to seal the deal.
She rolled up the money and wedged it into her new car’s cup holder. She scooped the wooden token pressed against her breast from the bodice of the dress and dropped it in the other cup holder. Running her hand across the dashboard, she yelled out the window. “No GPS?”
“Does that car look like it has a GPS?” Ryan shoved his hands in his pockets. “No refunds.”
“I’m not looking for a refund.” She cranked on the engine of her new vehicle. “Just point me in the right direction for the 25 south.”
Jesse strolled to the car. “You going to Mexico?”
“Maybe.” She leveled a finger at him. “You remember the rest of our deal, right?”
“Yeah.” Jesse’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his skinny, razor-burned neck. “If anyone asks, I picked you up and dropped you off at a bus depot in the city.”
“That’s right. The 25?”
Jesse gave her directions and she sped off, leaving the two young men gaping in her rearview. After her first burst of speed, she eased off the gas pedal. She didn’t have her driver’s license with her, and Ryan’s name was on the car registration. She didn’t need any trouble. Her impulsiveness had gotten her into enough trouble.
The car had enough gas to get her out of Albuquerque and almost down to Hatch Valley, just over the halfway point to Juarez. She could lose herself in Mexico, do a little investigating, too, even though it sure seemed as if Jimmy had contacts south of the border.
She wouldn’t be the first of her family to disappear in Mexico.
After about three hours on the road, April pulled into a gas station just out of Hatch and dashed into the convenience store. She grabbed a diet soda and smacked thirty bucks on the counter.
“As much gas as this will get me on pump number five, less the cost of the drink.”
The female clerk nodded, eyeing her from the top of her poofy hairstyle to the tips of her satin shoes, peeking out from the hem of her wedding dress. “Are you going to the wedding or coming from it?”
“On my way. It’s a beautiful day to get married, isn’t it?”
“Uh-huh.” The clerk popped her gum and rang up the purchase with her long, violet fingernails.
April pumped the gas, waved to a little girl giggling in the car next to hers and plopped onto the driver’s seat, gathering yards of billowing material inside after her.
She continued south, heading for Las Cruces. Just another ninety minutes or so, and she’d be across the border. She didn’t have any ID with her, but that never stopped people in the know from slipping into Mexico undetected. Her gaze shifted to the side, taking in the signs for the 10 west and Tucson. One hour to Mexico. Four hours to Tucson.
“Ah, hell.” She veered toward the ramp that would take her to Arizona.
She had enough gas. The weather couldn’t be beat. She didn’t know anyone in Mexico. And when could she ever resist Clay Archer?
* * *
CLAY ARCHER SWATTED at the fly buzzing around his face and gritted his teeth as the sound of the young Border Patrol agent’s retching finally subsided. He’d been there, done that. No shame.
The agent, Rob Valdez, straightened up, wiping his arm across his nose and mouth. “D-do you think the head’s in the tunnel?”
Clay spit onto the desert floor. “We’ll find out soon enough. You wanna go back to the truck and get some water?”
“No.” Valdez squared his shoulders. “I gotta see what’s in the tunnel.”
“You might not like what you see.” Clay squinted through his sunglasses at the mound of sand and dirt that marked the end of an underground tunnel between Arizona and Mexico.
“I gotta get used to it. You’re used to it.” Valdez rubbed his eyes and replaced his sunglasses and hat, flicking the stiff brim with his finger.
Clay took a step closer to the headless woman at his feet, one arm flung to her side, the other crossed over her body, the fingers of her hand curled. His nostrils flared as he crouched beside her, avoiding the blood-soaked dirt with the tips of his boots.
He reached for the woman’s hand, cold and stiff across her lifeless body, and pried open her fingers. Between his own thumb and forefinger, he pinched the object clutched in her hand and pulled it free.
“What is it?” Valdez hovered over him, the smell of vomit, sweat and fear coming off his body in waves.
“Do not upchuck on the body.”
“I’m done with that.” Valdez took a few steps back, as if not sure of his own statement.
“It’s a calling card.” Clay held up the housefly carved from wood, almost as realistic as the ones swarming the dead body. He waved it in the air.
“Las Moscas.” Valdez glanced over his shoulder as if expecting members of one of the most murderous drug cartels in Mexico to come riding up on ATVs. “Why would they do this to one of their own mules? And a woman?”
The pile of dirt at the tunnel’s exit shifted and one hand clawed its way out of earth like a scene from a horror movie. They didn’t need movies—they had their own, real-life horror.
Clay stepped around the young woman with care as if she were sunbathing in the desert instead of missing her head. By the time he reached the tunnel, it had already spit out half of Nash Dillon’s body.
Dillon scrabbled out the rest of the way, empty-handed. He yanked the mask from his face and coughed. “Nothing. No head. No drugs.”
Valdez let out a noisy sigh. “Agent Archer found something in the dead woman’s hand.”
Dillon raised his brows as he brushed the dirt and debris from his green uniform.
Clay cupped the wooden carving in his palm and held it out to Dillon. “This is the work of Las Moscas.”
“Not surprised.” Dillon tipped his head toward the woman. “Only a few reasons why I can think of that the cartel would kill one of its own mules—she double-crossed them, screwed up somehow or started working for us.”
“She’s not one of ours.” Clay held up his hands, the wooden token held between two of his fingers. “As far as I know, we’ve never used a woman.”
“Don’t lie, Clay.” Dillon clapped his hat back on his head and wiped his designer sunglasses on the hem of his shirt. “The DEA uses wives and girlfriends when they
can get them on board—or when they’ve been wronged by their drug-dealing spouses or tire of the lifestyle.”
“That’s DEA, not Border Patrol.” Clay squinted into the harsh desert light. “We’ve got company.”
The two other agents swiveled their heads in unison toward a caravan of trucks and SUVs accompanied by a cloud of sand and dust.
“Hope there’s a coroner’s van among those trucks.” Dillon stamped the dust from his boots, jerking his thumb toward the body. “They need to get this young woman out of here. Give her a little dignity, regardless of the mess she made of her life.”
The trucks and law enforcement personnel brought a flurry of activity with them. The local PD in Paradiso wouldn’t conduct the homicide investigation, as it was too small to have a homicide division—not that the department didn’t see its share of murders along this stretch of the border.
The Pima County Sheriff’s Department would take over the thankless job of investigating the murder, but as usual with drug crimes, there would be no evidence, no witnesses and a bunch of nameless, faceless suspects.
Clay studied the men and women going about the business of investigating a headless corpse in the desert, and he took a swig of water from his bottle.
“Crazy business.”
“What’s that, Archer?” Espinoza, a homicide detective for the sheriff’s department, looked up from his phone and squinted at Clay.
“Nothing. Just thinking about the insanity that goes on in this town.”
Espinoza spread his arms wide. “Paradise, right?”
“Yeah, some clueless gringo even got that wrong, didn’t he? Paradiso doesn’t even mean Paradise in Spanish.”
Midnight Abduction Page 19
