by Susan Crosby
Her stomach churned, just thinking about it. She could’t be that wrong about him. She couldn’t. Brendan had to be forcing him in some way.
“I wish I’d never met you.”
His final words in his delirium twisted the knot inside her tighter. There was no doubt he’d meant her. He wished he’d never met her. How was she supposed to live with that knowledge? She’d have to let him go. For his sake. For his happiness. She’d thought she was prepared to do anything for him. But...give him up? She didn’t know if she was strong enough.
“Magnolia?”
He was there, standing before her, looking curious, and concerned, and...tender. She dropped her book bag to the ground and hugged him.
His arms came around her, a sanctuary of warmth and strength and safekeeping.
“What’s wrong?” he asked close to her ear, his hand stroking her hair.
I love you. Why couldn’t she tell him that? Because when he’d grabbed her shirt and spoken to her in his delirium, one of the things he’d said was that she made his job much more difficult. She’d made a mess of his life. Or—he’d made a mess of his life, and she’d made it worse.
She bit back a sob. She couldn’t give him up. She couldn’t.
“I’m not wrong about you,” she whispered.
“About what?”
She squeezed him tighter. “Let’s run away. Let’s go someplace else and start a whole new life.”
“What?” J.D. leaned back to look at her. He’d known she was upset about something just by the way she’d walked toward the parking lot, veering away from where he waited. She hadn’t even seen him get out of the car and hurry to divert her.
She curved her fingers into his forearms. “We can find a little town somewhere. Doesn’t that sound great? Just you and me?”
He put his palm on her forehead, fearing she’d had a relapse.
“I’m not sick. We need to talk. And this time you’re not going to ignore my questions. This time I need the truth. No matter how much it hurts.”
“All right,” he said slowly. “Let’s go home.”
He closed the car door after she climbed in, then walked around to the driver’s side. He slid the key into the ignition.
The back doors opened and two men swung in, one from each side. The steel barrel of a revolver pressed icily against his neck. He noted the frozen fear in Magnolia’s eyes before he looked in the rearview mirror at the man behind him.
“Drive,” came the order from the back seat.
“Where?”
“Just get us out of the parking lot. I’ll tell you where as we go.”
J.D. followed the same path he’d driven for almost two weeks as they left the campus and turned right. He glanced at Magnolia and noted the way her fingers dug into the upholstery and her wide eyes focused on him. He stared at her intently, taking her measure. Why wasn’t she asking questions? Why was she accepting—perhaps even expecting—what was happening?
He gave her a small, encouraging smile.
She offered a hesitant one in return.
He nodded, satisfied. She wouldn’t panic.
Thirteen
Wherever they’d been brought, it was cold. Bone-chilling cold. Or maybe it was fear that caused Maggie’s teeth to chatter and her limbs to shake. At some point, she and Diego had been blindfolded, gagged and made to lie down in the back seat of the car, their hands tied behind them, before continuing on a drive that lasted another twenty minutes or so. They’d been hauled from the car and shoved up some creaky stairs into a building.
“Take off their restraints.”
Maggie turned toward the voice. Brendan Hastings? But...if Diego worked for Brendan, why would he kidnap them? It didn’t make sense. Nothing made sense. When the men had climbed into the car, she’d assumed they were Brendan’s enemies and that Diego was the target. But now—
She jumped as icy fingers fumbled with the rope around her hands. She shoved off the blindfold and sought Diego. Relieved that he was only a few feet away, she peeled the duct tape slowly from across her mouth and watched him do the same, his eyes cautioning her to silence.
“Ah, I do love the telepathic communication between husband and wife,” Brendan said, an expansive smile on his face. “Fascinating, isn’t it?”
Maggie glanced around quickly, seeing a boarded-up, dilapidated room with rotting floorboards and a layer of dirt coating everything. She flinched as something slightly smaller than a cat scurried along the wall. She stepped closer to her husband, away from Tweedledee, who, along with Tweedledum, must have been waiting with Brendan.
“Go ahead, my dear. You may stand near your husband.”
She refused to give Brendan the pleasure of showing any weakness, so she didn’t cling to Diego, although she did move next to him. She straightened her spine, tossed back her hair and waited.
“What’s going on, Mr. Hastings?” Diego asked, resting his hand on her lower back.
The gesture was almost her undoing. It conveyed his concern, his attempt to protect her and his need to be in charge, all at once. She drew a breath and settled herself.
“I have a bit of a problem, Duran.” He flicked his fingers down his jacket sleeve, brushing at something only he could see. “Our last transaction wasn’t deposited.”
“That’s impossible,” Diego said.
“I assure you, it didn’t happen.”
A door opened and the two men who’d snatched Diego and Maggie came in. One handed Maggie’s book bag to Brendan; the other plopped a paper sack on the floor. It tipped over, spilling an assortment of items into the dust. Brendan moved things with the toe of his shoe.
“That’s everything, boss.”
“Good. Dump the car, then get back here I’ll need you to watch over Mrs. Duran while Mr. Duran and I take a little drive.”
J.D. slid his hand to her waist and squeezed as he felt her react to Hastings’s words. Dios, he was proud of her. Amazingly, she hadn’t said a word. He would have expected her to challenge Hastings about why they were there, at the least. “Where are we going?” he asked.
“We’re going to find out where my money went.”
“Do you think if I’d cheated on you, I’d still be in town?”
“Your pretty little wife doesn’t seem to be surprised at our conversation. So she does know what you do for a living, after all, Duran?”
“I know,” she said, startling J.D.
“And approve?”
“A man’s gotta make a living.”
Brendan chuckled. “You sound hke a gangster’s moll from a forties’ movie, my dear. Stand by your man—wouldn’t that be a little more appropriate for the nineties?”
Maggie pursed her lips. In truth, her only knowledge of criminals came from the movies she watched, but she’d be damned if she’d give up without a fight. With all her heart, she knew Diego wasn’t like Brendan.
“I’m to be insurance, I supposed,” Maggie said. Diego’s fingers dug into her. “My husband’s word is his bond, Mr. Hastings.”
“Such a devoted little wife you have, Duran.”
“I’m a lucky man.”
“Indeed you are.” Brendan plucked Diego’s pager from the pile on the floor. It had been taken from him, along with his gun, when they’d been forced into the back seat of the car. Brendan fidgeted with the casing until he tripped a panel, revealing a tiny audiocassette. He dumped it into his palm. “What have we here? Blackmail? What do you think now, my dear? Do you still believe he’s an honest man?”
“And a cautious one,” she said.
He grinned at her, then at Diego. “Brains and beauty. I envy you.” He tucked the cassette and pager into a pocket, then opened Maggie’s book bag. He withdrew her own pager and toyed with it. Apparently satisfied that it contained nothing unusual, he turned it off and set it aside.
He dug deeper into the bag and came up with her cassette player.
“I just use it to take notes in class,” Maggie said, panic striki
ng her. “Spanish class.”
Brendan contemplated her a few seconds, then cocked his head. “What’s got your wife in a dither, Duran?”
“Probably the fact she’s being held against her will.”
“Hmm. I wonder.” He examined the recorder. “Let’s just see what’s on here, why don’t we?”
Maggie thought she was going to be sick. Diego’s voice came across the tiny speaker clearly. She felt him tense behind her. His hand loosened, then fell away as he heard himself reveal too much information about his business with Brendan. They listened to the end. Maggie could translate the words in her head now that she knew them.
She wanted to die.
“Don’t trust him,” Diego had ordered her in Spanish after grabbing her shirt and pulling her to him.
“Shh, Diego. It’s all right.”
“Do you know what he would have done with you?”
Maggie got lost in the next part, where he talked of huge sums of money and dirty bankers and Swiss accounts.
“Here, drink.”
“You make my job so much more difficult. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, Magnolia. God, I wish I’d never met you.” The anguish m his voice pierced her once again.
The tape stopped.
“So, all is not what it appears in the Duran household,” Brendan said in dehght, obviously having no trouble translating the words. “I’m a little confused, however. Were you talking in your sleep?”
Maggie glanced at Diego. He wouldn’t even look at her. He’d retreated from her as effectively as if he’d left the room.
Brendan dumped the recorder into her book bag and tossed it to Dum. “Put that and the rest of Duran’s things in the car.” He faced Diego, looking smug. “I imagine you have some final words for your wife. The Bard says it best, doesn’t he? ‘Parting is such sweet sorrow.’”
When the door closed, Diego grabbed her by the arms and held her in front of him.
“I’m sor—”
“Be quiet and listen to me,” he whispered harshly. “I am a special agent for the FBI.”
Maggie went rigid. “What?”
He stepped away from her to tug at a floorboard. “My cover has been blown. The deposit Hastings refers to was made. He’s just saying that as an excuse to get rid of me. Who knows what he plans for you.”
Shock held her speechless as he worked the board back and forth.
“There was a directional beeper in my car and in your pager. Now the car is gone and the pager is turned off. A man named Novacek will have seen us taken from campus. With any luck the satellite signals were transmitted and received before they were lost.” The wood splintered, sounding like cannon fire. “Our last hope is your necklace.”
She clutched her pendant, bewildered.
He gripped another board. “The device that’s in your pendant is recharged by body heat, but it’s also experimental. I checked it a few days ago and it was working, so that’s a good sign. However, the signal is not nearly as powerful as the other devices.” When the board wouldn’t budge, he tried another. “I’ve done everything I could to keep you safe and help you be rescued. Have faith that you’ll be found.”
Maggie swallowed. “What about you?”
“I always knew the risks.”
“But—”
Giving up freeing a second floorboard, he passed her the first one. “You have to take Hastings out with one swing. You won’t get a second chance. Straight into the face, all right? Straight in.”
“I don’t—”
He dragged her to the front door. “I’ll take the others.”
Terrified, she gripped the board like a baseball bat. Wildly, she sought his eyes at the sound of someone stepping onto the creaking wood outside.
“You can do this, Magnolia.”
She shifted foot to foot, finding a stronghold, then went still. She gritted her teeth. She raised the board high. She pulled in a deep breath.
The door opened.
The sickening thud of wood connecting with Brendan’s face sent her stomach somersaulting. She stared in shock as the man crumpled. Blood spilled onto the floor beneath his face. Choking back her nausea, she lifted her head and saw Diego grappling with Dum.
She screamed his name as Dee pulled a gun from inside his jacket.
“Nooooo.” She swung the board, connecting, sending the gun sailing. Diego slammed Dum against the wall. He sank like a rag doll to the floor.
Dee charged him. Diego jumped aside. Dee fell face-first, rolled once and came up aiming another gun.
“Get behind me,” Diego ordered Maggie as she screeched.
She heaved the board against the opposite wall. Dee turned at the clatter. Diego lunged. They fell to the floor. Diego sprawled on top of the huge man, his fingers a vise on Dee’s wrist. Their hands shook; the gun vibrated. The room echoed with primal male sounds.
With a grunt, Maggie stomped on Dee’s hand and the weapon dropped out of suddenly limp fingers. She kicked it out of reach, ran to grab it, then pointed it at Dee as Diego rolled away and stood.
“A gun in an amateur’s hand is nothing to challenge,” Diego cautioned, breathing hard, as Dee dragged himself to his knees.
Maggie passed the shaking weapon to Diego. Behind them the door burst open and a group of men wearing blue windbreakers stormed the room.
“Timing could have been a little better, Cal,” Diego said, the lightness in his voice making Maggie gape at him.
“Every time we locked on a signal, it died. The necklace worked, J.D. It worked.”
Maggie stared at the scene. The men in matching jackets were dragging a bloody-faced Brendan and his cohorts to their feet.
Her gaze drifted to Diego. She saw his mouth move. He was talking but she couldn’t hear his words. Wind rushed through her head, loud, unrelenting, cold. Achingly cold.
Numb, she watched him finally look her way. She thought she read her name on his lips
He hurried toward her as she reached an unsteady hand to him.
“We’re safe?” she asked. It took him forever to get to her.
“We’re safe,” he mouthed.
“Madre de Dios,” she said. Then she fainted.
Maggie paced. Back and forth, back and forth she moved across the small interrogation room, as she had done for much of the four hours she’d been waiting. Diego had offered to have her driven home, but she was afraid If she accepted, he wouldn’t come see her. At least this way, he had to face her.
The food someone had brought her went untouched. She sipped occasionally at a glass of ice water that had long since warmed to room temperature. She was tired and scared and suddenly very lonely. She stopped pacing and dropped into a chair, shoving her half from her face, then letting it fall forward again as she rested her elbows on the table.
The door opened. She lifted her head and watched Diego come quietly into the room and shut the door. He pulled out a chair on the opposite side of the table.
“How are your hands?”
She stared at the bandages covering deep wounds where wood splinters had gouged her. “They’re okay.”
His cool professionalism cut into her. When she’d come out of the first faint of her life, he’d been holding her, but there was a distance between them that seemed insurmountable. She’d tape-recorded him—that had hurt him. He hadn’t trusted her—that had hurt her.
“Is Brendan done spilling his guts?” she asked, trying to stay as cool as he.
“He’s still cooperating. He’s much more afraid of what his father-in-law could do to him than what we could. He’s full of information.”
“I take it he was afraid of his wife because he was afraid of her father, who must run things?”
“Yes. The father has already been picked up. More arrests are expected. People’s silence is often bought with threats. Many will talk to us willingly, in exchange for deals and protection. What we’ve uncovered is a nationwide network beyond the small area over which Hastings reigned. Mos
t involve drugs, therefore, a variety of offenses. And the IRS will take part, as well.”
“So this was a big case?”
“It didn’t start that way. It began when a young seamstress of Misty’s disappeared.” He tipped his chair back on two legs. “There was no trail to follow. She was without family and new to San Francisco. Months later she called Misty, hysterical. She’d gotten away, but she was in Miami and without a cent.”
Maggie leaned forward, caught up in the story. “Why didn’t she go to the police?”
“She was afraid to. She had heard that some of them were involved in the prostitution ring. She didn’t know who she could trust. So, Misty flew to Miami and brought her home.”
“Misty called the FBI?”
“No. She contacted the only person she trusted implicitly.”
“Judge Shaunnessey.”
“Yes.”
“How did she know him?”
“They met a long, long time ago, when he was a public defender. The facts are for Misty to tell, not me. Anyway, he called us. The girl didn’t know who had taken her. The only potential suspect was Hastings. They’d met in a bar one night. He had taken her to his penthouse. A week later, she was abducted. She kept her wits about her, did what she was told, and therefore avoided the drugs that are given to those who won’t cooperate. She heard whispers from others that two women had been killed when they’d fought back. She just bided her time.”
“Is she all right now?”
“She’s anxious to testify.”
Maggie’s gaze drifted over him. She wished she could soothe the weariness from his face. She wished he would hold her and tell her everything was going to be all right.
“How were you involved?” she asked him instead.
“San Francisco was a new market for him. He got careless, thinking himself to be unknown here, so he met openly with people known to facilitate money laundering. Some of them are members at the Carola.”
“What?”
“In exchange for reduced charges, we convinced one of his contacts to recommend me as a facilitator. The details are not important. It took patience to wait him out. He made his first contact with me when he showed up at the Carola as a new member, but he continued to put me off. Unfortunately, you caught his eye.”
