by Liz Johnson
The sudden shortness in her chest answered that question in an instant.
It absolutely mattered. She cared if he cared about her, because her unnamed feelings for him were far outside the realm of just friendship.
Then again, maybe her emotions didn’t matter.
If she didn’t escape, Jimmy was going to kill her anyway.
* * *
Matt grabbed for the phone on Ashley’s desk, speaking before it reached his ear. “Yes?”
“I want my property back.” The voice on the other end stayed gruff, like the man was trying to disguise it.
I want mine back, too. “Where’s Ashley?”
“First, I want that little Asian kid. And I want her now.”
“She’s not here.”
“Fine. Then your precious little pain in my neck will take her place.”
Matt’s gut clenched, his head throbbing at the very idea of Ashley at the mercy of this lunatic. “I can bring her to you, but it’ll take some time to get her back to town.” With lives on the line—with Ashley’s life on the line—it was amazingly easy to lie.
“How long?”
“At least forty-eight hours.”
“Unacceptable. Make it no more than twenty-four.”
He glanced at the clock on the wall beside Ashley’s desk. That wasn’t much time, but his team had designed and executed a rescue in less. It was almost five. She’d already been gone for more than eight hours and Tristan could only be two or three more hours away from Charity Way. “All right. Where do you want to make the swap?”
“There’s an old warehouse at the corner of Lexington and Fourth. You know where that is?”
“Yes.” He knew it well. He’d left two of this guy’s men tied up there that morning.
“Eight tomorrow night. Come alone. No cops.”
“No cops,” Matt said. That didn’t mean no SEALs. There would be at least five of them. And maybe the whole boat crew if Tristan had his way.
Of course, they wouldn’t be at the meeting spot either. They’d find this guy’s hiding hole long before that. And they definitely wouldn’t be bringing along cops—cops wouldn’t condone the methods Matt imagined they’d use to put the fear of SEAL into the traffickers. And as for the guy who’d kidnapped Ashley...by the time they were done, he’d be praying for the red-and-blue lights of a cruiser to appear.
The other man disconnected the call with no indication he’d noticed their conversation was missing an integral question, one that every hostage negotiator knew to ask. What was the hostage’s condition? Was there proof Ashley was still alive?
Matt dropped his head into his hands, covering his whole face as he leaned on the desk top.
It was a question he just wasn’t sure he wanted answered. Bad news would make it harder to concentrate, harder to think about anything but having her back in his arms. Good news might be even worse. How could he put together a plan while dreaming about what a future with her might look like? Would she ever leave Charity Way? Would he be willing to leave the teams to be with her?
Too many questions and no answers. There were no answers to any of them, including how she felt about him. Maybe she still thought of him as her brother’s friend—a surrogate big brother.
A little voice in his ear told him that wasn’t very likely given the way she’d kissed him. Twice.
But all of this was just a distraction from what he needed to focus on—the challenge of planning a rescue mission without intel or outside support.
The truth was he’d broken one of the cardinal rules of his SEAL training. He was emotionally involved with this mission. On a very real and far too personal level.
“Oh, Lord, let me focus right now. Protect Ashley and give me the strength to do this well.”
His cell phone buzzed across the desk, and he scooped it up before it could fall off the edge. “Waterstone.”
“Matt-o.” Vince’s tenor singsonged his name.
“Do you have a name for me?”
“For you? But of course.” Vince clearly wanted to celebrate his discovery, but there wasn’t time for it.
“Who?”
“Well, first I had to go through archived property records from twenty years ago to find out that—”
Matt scraped his fingers down his face, shoulders hunched against the instinct to yell at the civilian, who clearly didn’t understand the situational urgency. “I get it. You’re brilliant. Who is it?”
“James Swift ring any bells?”
“The guy who owns the local tire plant?”
“Yep.”
He held out his right hand, glaring at it. He’d been two feet from the man and hadn’t punched him. What he’d give to have that moment to live over again! And that cleared up another piece of the puzzle—Miranda’s connection to Joy. Miranda worked for Swift. She must have found out what was going on, and figured out a way to smuggle Joy to Ashley.
“Are you impressed?”
Matt grinned. “I’d be more impressed if you could tell me exactly where he is right now.”
“No can do. Sorry.”
“Well, can you tell me if he owns any other property in the area?”
“He doesn’t. But I can tell you that the tire plant has sure been under some...interesting construction in the last two years.”
“What do you mean ‘interesting’?”
Vince tapped away on his keyboard as he filled in the details. “You ever know a tire plant to need underground storage?”
Ashley’s phone burst to life. “Got to go. Thanks for the info.” He picked up her office line again, a familiar pit growing in his stomach.
“This is Matt.”
“Senior Chief. This is Chief Donal.”
“Sir?” His words were clipped for the man who hadn’t uncovered anything about the threat against Ashley and might even be aiding the culprit behind a human-trafficking ring—Matt hadn’t forgotten that the chief and Swift were poker buddies. Matt had no time to waste on the head of the police force. He still had three buildings to check out before Tristan and the others arrived.
“Listen, son, Ashley called me this morning and asked me to look into a possible missing-person case. I’ve been trying to call her all day, but her phone is going straight to voice mail. She seemed spooked this morning, but now she’s not responding. Do you know where she is?”
“What missing person did she ask you about?”
“An Asian girl. I’m pretty sure there’s a report on her from out of San Francisco, so someone better tell me what’s going on. Now.”
Could the chief be trusted? Had he known about Swift’s underground dealings? Or was he taken in by a seemingly up-front businessman, too?
“Someone’s taken Ashley.”
The chief gasped and spluttered, choking on a drink. “Who? What’s going on?”
“The man who’s after the missing girl. He wants to make a trade.”
“Well, don’t do it!” The chief’s voice rose until he was yelling. “These things always end up with someone dead. Whatever you do, don’t take that girl to be traded. I assume you have a plan in place to get Ashley back.”
He’d never heard the old guy so riled up, and he scaled down his defenses.
“I’m thinking on it.”
“Well, don’t think on it. Do something. How can I help?”
The battle inside his brain rivaled even those from the Great War. He couldn’t very well give away his initial rescue plan to a man he didn’t implicitly trust. But he could sure use an extra man in the field, especially one familiar with the area.
“I need to know where Ashley is being held before I can make any real plans.”
“I can find that out.” The chief stopped for a moment, the wheels in his b
rain probably working overtime as he realized the truth. “Actually...I don’t even know where to start.”
“I do. Can you check out both of these addresses? I just need to know if there’s any activity going on there. Of any kind. But whatever you do, don’t go in without backup. Stay a good distance away.”
“What do you think is going on there?”
“If these guys will kidnap innocent girls, who knows what they’re into?” He sidestepped the question, not eager to tell the chief something he might already know. If the chief was working with Swift, there was no use letting them know that someone was onto their business.
“Good point. Give me the addresses.”
Matt read the chief the locations of the two buildings he hadn’t yet checked, and the other man promised to call him as soon as he arrived at the first spot.
As soon as they hung up, Matt stood and paced the tiny office. It only took two steps to reach the opposite wall, but he continued back and forth, back and forth, as his muscles trembled in anticipation. His gut clenched twice, and he took corresponding deep breaths.
Ashley needed him, and he was coming for her. As long as he could find her.
He had a pretty good idea where to start looking.
He grabbed his black jacket, ducked his head into the living room and stared right at Lil. “I’m heading out. Don’t leave the house for any reason. Don’t answer the phone, and please don’t let anyone else in.”
The wrinkles on her lower lip quivered, but she gave a short nod. “When will you be back?”
“When I have Ashley.”
He turned then, marching toward the front door and down the front steps, taking even breaths with every footfall. By the time he reached his truck, he was as cool as he’d ever been on a mission.
As he slammed his truck door, the phone in his pocket vibrated. “Waterstone.”
“Sawyer.”
Tristan sounded like he’d been raked across the coals. It was bad enough being in Charity Way and knowing the situation. Being miles away and not having a clue about the players must be killing him.
“I think I know where she is. I’m heading over there to recon right now.”
“Who is it? Who has her?” His voice came out tight, like every word cost him a punch to the gut.
“It’s a local business owner. I think he’s using his factory as a warehouse for his trafficking.”
“Where are we meeting him?”
“He thinks we’re meeting at one of his other locations to swap the other girl for Ashley. But we’re going to meet him tonight in his underground lair.”
Tristan, who gave his laughs away like candy and always had a response, said nothing.
“How far out are you?”
“About ninety minutes. I’ll call when we get there. By then, you’ll know for sure where she is.” It wasn’t a question or a request. It was an order.
“I wi—” Tristan hung up before he could finish his promise.
Tristan had never been this mad in all the years they’d been friends. Tired, exhausted and grumpy? Sure. But he was downright furious at this point. So angry that he hadn’t bothered to notice one thing.
Matt punched the steering wheel as he sailed toward the tire plant. When Tristan cooled off enough to realize that his best friend had fallen in love with Ashley, things were going to get even worse. If that was possible.
He parked his truck in a grove of trees half a mile from the plant and got out to hoof it the rest of the way. Anybody with that much to lose wouldn’t let just anyone sneak up on him, and the truck was way too conspicuous.
As the sun disappeared completely, he pulled on his jacket to ward off the cool night breeze, moving silently from tree to tree for cover and forcing himself to wait at every third tree and listen.
Birds chirped and the leaves in the trees rustled against each other.
No other noise penetrated the night air, not even the sound of his steps as he approached the outer perimeter of the plant. The smell of melting rubber was thick in the air; he wrinkled his nose but pressed on.
Empty parking lots surrounded the building on three sides, and he followed the edge of the tree line to the back. Squatting there, he waited in the shadows.
After about five minutes, a man with a handgun walked through the beam of a floodlight. He took his time strolling by the back door, turning in slow circles but never looking into the woods. His eyes swept over the brown grass, though he never stopped long enough to actually see what he was looking at.
Amateur.
He had a big gun but zero know-how when it came to security.
When the guard disappeared, Matt checked for cameras sweeping the area. The only one was at the far corner of the building and easy enough to avoid, as it pointed into the parking lot.
Swift was counting on a lot here to leave the building where he kept his women relatively unprotected. Either that, or he assumed that no one would ever be coming after him.
He clearly thought he had the authorities in his pocket.
Maybe he did.
Maybe weekly poker games with the police chief and mayor and a good-old-boy attitude was all it took to fly under the radar in this small town.
Matt punched his leg. Had he made a grave mistake in asking Donal to look into those other buildings?
Maybe.
His phone shook against his leg.
Maybe not.
“Waterstone, this is Donal.” The chief spoke before he could even greet him. “I went to both of those buildings. They’re empty...but something is definitely going on there.”
“What kind of something?” He’d play the fool as long as it took to know which side Donal was really on.
“I’m not sure exactly...but I have a feeling it’s bad news. Like the kind of bad news that includes people being held against their will.” The chief grunted when Matt didn’t offer a response. “Like maybe someone’s shuttling people through my town.” His voice rose, probably right along with his blood pressure. “You know anything about this?”
“I guess about as much as you now.”
The chief muttered something under his breath, and then was silent for several long seconds. “I’m going to call in an ICE team to check out these buildings.”
Immigration and Customs Enforcement. He’d been so focused on getting Ashley back safely that he hadn’t even thought about the jurisdiction. Of course, if there were illegal aliens being trafficked, someone from ICE had to be made aware.
“Where are you?” the chief asked.
“I’m looking into another lead.”
“You’re not going to give me an inch, are you, son?”
“Not even half of one, sir. Not when it comes to Ashley’s safety.”
“Fair enough.” The chief sounded as though he’d have laughed if the call had been under any other set of circumstances. “I’ll call into the closest ICE office and see how soon they can have a team out here.”
If the chief was calling in ICE, he couldn’t be involved with Swift. Could he?
Matt took a deep breath, deciding on the spot that he needed to trust the older man, who had been up front with him since the beginning.
“Think you could get them to meet me when they get to town?”
“Probably. You’ll have to tell me where you are, you know.”
He shrugged in the darkness. “I will. When they get here.”
“I’ll call you back.” The chief hung up, leaving him to wait and watch.
Waiting wasn’t his favorite part of recon. But ending up in a sticky spot that could have been avoided by learning the layout was worse.
The same security guard showed up ten minutes after his first appearance. Same easy amble, as though he had nowhere to be and nothing t
o protect.
Maybe he didn’t even know what was hidden inside that building.
Matt waited ten minutes for the guard to appear and disappear for a third time before running to the building, pressing his back against it and checking for a tail when he got there.
The cold brick wall snagged his jacket, but he didn’t stop sliding along it toward the gray metal door. By the raging beam of the floodlight, he jiggled the handle. The lock stuck in place, and he sighed. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy.
He looked toward the full moon. He’d asked for a little bit of help. This would be a great time for it to arrive.
Just then, voices rose from the ground next to him.
“The boss said he’s coming back tomorrow at six so we can move her.”
“In the morning?”
Someone got slugged with the unmistakable sound of a fist buried into flesh. “Of course in the morning.”
The ground just to his right rose, revealing a door to a cellar. His heart picked up speed, and he pressed his hands against his pant legs.
He’d done this a thousand times in practice and in the real world. So why were his palms sweating and pulse beating so loudly he was sure the two thugs would be able to hear him?
Ashley’s face flashed across his mind’s eye.
He’d never had so much at stake before.
SIXTEEN
Matt clenched his fists, remaining otherwise motionless as the two men climbed from the underground lair, calling down to one of their comrades that they’d return after a few hours of sleep in time to move the blonde.
That had to be Ashley.
The sod-covered door fell back into place, the noise cushioned by something clearly meant to keep the entrance a secret.
He took a quick breath before lunging at them, knocking both of them to their knees with quick strikes to the sides of their necks with the sharp sides of his hands. They groaned as they fell forward. In a second flat, he flipped them, giving each a solid punch to the solar plexus before hooking his arms through one of theirs and dragging them toward the tree line as they gasped for air.
“Nice move.”
He dropped the men immediately, looking into the face of Will Gumble, one of the men on his boat crew.
