Evasive Action (Holding the Line Book 1)

by Carol Ericson

  She’s seen too much to survive.

  Minutes before her wedding, April Hart learns her fiancé is a drug lord. Now the only person she can trust is a man from her past—border patrol agent Clay Archer. Two years ago April left Clay at the altar to keep him out of the grip of her dangerous family. This time, Clay is determined to guard April—and his heart. But the truth will plunge them into a brutal endgame where safety equals merciless betrayal...

  A loud noise reverberated in the truck, and April’s head banged against the window.

  Clay jerked the steering wheel. Another crack came out of the night. The back window shattered, raining glass down on April’s head. The truck squealed and the back wheels made it fishtail on the road.

  “What happened? What did you hit?” She focused on Clay’s profile.

  His jaw tensed. “I didn’t hit a damned thing. Someone’s shooting at us...and he just got my tire.”

  Clay wrestled with the steering wheel. It took all the strength he had to keep the truck on the asphalt—and he had to. If he swerved onto the shoulder, the truck could flip or skid out to a stop. They couldn’t stop. Whoever shot at them wanted to disable the vehicle. Wanted them to be stranded in the desert.

  “I see headlights. They’re coming after us...”

  EVASIVE ACTION

  Carol Ericson

  Carol Ericson is a bestselling, award-winning author of more than forty books. She has an eerie fascination for true-crime stories, a love of film noir and a weakness for reality TV, all of which fuel her imagination to create her own tales of murder, mayhem and mystery. To find out more about Carol and her current projects, please visit her website at www.carolericson.com, “where romance flirts with danger.”

  Books by Carol Ericson

  Harlequin Intrigue

  Holding the Line

  Evasive Action

  Red, White and Built: Delta Force Deliverance

  Enemy Infiltration

  Undercover Accomplice

  Code Conspiracy

  Red, White and Built: Pumped Up

  Delta Force Defender

  Delta Force Daddy

  Delta Force Die Hard

  Red, White and Built

  Locked, Loaded and SEALed

  Alpha Bravo SEAL

  Bullseye: SEAL

  Point Blank SEAL

  Secured by the SEAL

  Bulletproof SEAL

  Her Alibi

  Harlequin Intrigue Noir

  Toxic

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com.

  CAST OF CHARACTERS

  April Hart—For the second time in two years, April has run out on a wedding—but this time the jilted bridegroom is a dangerous drug dealer on a mission. Now she must return to the first jilted bridegroom for protection.

  Clay Archer—This border patrol agent had his heart broken when his fiancée called off their wedding weeks before the event. When she returns to his life, she brings enough danger and baggage to send his protective instincts into overdrive.

  Adam Hart—April’s brother has had his share of tragedies, and he uses them to keep his sister on his side for his next wild scheme.

  Jimmy Verdugo—A small-time drug dealer playing a big-time game, he’s not going to allow his errant bride to disrupt the biggest deal of his life.

  El Gringo Viejo—The nickname of a man reputed to be a drug supplier in Mexico, he’s also reputed to be April’s missing father.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Epilogue

  Excerpt from What She Saw by Barb Han

  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 could 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.