by Elle James
“Shut up.” He didn’t need anyone telling him where he’d gone wrong with Abby. He’d known he was making a mistake as soon as the words were out of his mouth, but he couldn’t stop himself from saying them. She needed someone to look out for her. She’d been pushing through on her own for so long she didn’t know how to stop fighting. He’d tried to tell her he was there for her, but instead of reassuring her, he’d come across like some big bully. And he didn’t know how to correct that impression now.
Instead, he was stuck watching while she remained determined to put her life on the line to deal with a man it was his job to take care of. His only hope was that something would happen between now and then to make a meeting between Abby and Meredes unnecessary.
Graham, leading the trio of vehicles, slowed for the turn onto Prentice’s ranch. The big iron gate was open, allowing them to pass beneath the massive stone archway. “Smile, you’re on camera,” Michael said, nodding to the lens mounted on the side of the arch.
“And here’s the welcoming committee,” Carmen said as a Jeep blocked the road ahead. Three beefy men in desert camo, semiautomatic rifles slung across their chests, piled out.
“Armed guards?” Michael shifted the Cruiser into Park and pulled in alongside Graham’s vehicle. “Who does this guy think he is?”
“Maybe one of the richest men in the country feels like he has a lot to protect,” Carmen said.
“Or a lot to hide.” He unsnapped his seat belt and climbed out of the Cruiser and joined the others— except Abby, who’d remained in the car, as ordered, as they gathered around Graham.
“I need you all to get back into your vehicles,” the tallest of the trio, his white-blond hair buzzed into a flattop, said.
No one moved. Michael glared at the other two guards, who took up positions at the front and passenger side of the vehicle. They kept their assault rifles pointed toward the ground, but their manner was still threatening.
“Sir, I’ll have to ask you to turn around,” the tallest guard said. “This is private property.”
“Captain Graham Ellison, Colorado Public Lands Task Force.” Graham flashed his badge and credentials. “I’m here to see Mr. Prentice on official business.”
“Mr. Prentice doesn’t see anyone without an appointment.” The guard’s expression remained impassive, his gaze fixed on Graham. The credentials might have been bubblegum cards for all he cared.
“I think he’ll want to see us,” Graham said. “We’ve discovered what appears to be illegal activity taking place on his property and we need to bring this to his attention.”
A single crease formed in the middle of the guard’s brow at the words illegal activity.
“If you call Mr. Prentice’s office, they’ll put you in touch with his legal team,” he said.
Apparently, one lawyer wasn’t enough for this guy—he needed a whole team.
“We don’t need to speak to a legal team.” Graham’s tone grew flinty. “We need to speak with Mr. Prentice. Call him and tell him he needs to talk to us now, or the next time he sees us, we’ll have a warrant for his arrest.”
The threat was a bluff. While they might find a judge to issue a warrant, they were just as likely to come up against one who was friendly with Prentice. But Graham did a good job of making the words sound like a promise. The guard hesitated. “Call him,” Graham said.
The guard turned away, though the other two remained in position by the Jeep. Michael tapped his foot. If it was up to him, he’d hit the siren and drive forward, forcing the guards to jump out of the way. But maybe that was why Graham was the commander and he wasn’t.
The guard finished his phone call and turned back to the car. “Mr. Prentice will spare a few minutes for you. You can follow me to the house.” He pointed to Graham. “Just you. The others can stay here.”
“Dance, come with me,” Graham said. “The rest of you stay here.”
Michael moved toward Graham’s Cruiser. The guard started to argue, but Graham cut him off. “I’m not going in alone. You wouldn’t.”
The guard frowned, but nodded and returned to his Jeep. A quarter mile down the drive, a second Jeep fell in behind them. “These people are really beginning to annoy me,” Michael said.
“That’s probably the point,” Graham says. “He wants to rattle us.”
“I didn’t say I was rattled—just annoyed.” He scowled at the building that loomed in front of them. Richard Prentice’s “ranch house” was a castle, complete with gray stone walls and a round tower. The three-bay garage to one side was larger than most homes.
Graham parked the Cruiser behind a black Escalade that sat in front of the door, and they climbed out and followed the guards into a dark foyer. After the bright light outside, Michael couldn’t make out much about the interior of the house. A long hall seemed to lead farther into the dwelling, but the guard ushered them into a small room just off the foyer. Lined with bookshelves, this room seemed to be a library, though Michael wondered if their host had ever opened most of the matched leather-bound volumes that filled the shelves in neat, coordinated rows.
They waited a full ten minutes, Michael pacing while Graham sat quietly. Neither man said a thing. Michael was sure Prentice had the room bugged—all those books could conceal a lot of recording equipment. “He’s not going to see us,” Michael said finally. “I think we should go ahead and call the judge, get the warrant.”
Thirty seconds later, the door to the room opened and a short man in an expensive suit strolled in. “Richard Prentice.” He offered his hand. “Sorry to have kept you waiting.”
Based on his reputation for outsize behavior, Michael was startled to find that the man himself was so unimpressive. The ring on his finger was probably worth more than Michael made all year, but Prentice was barely five-eight, and his hair was thinning.
“The phone call I received led me to believe you’re accusing me of some illegal activity,” Prentice said.
“Not at all,” Graham said. “But we wanted to alert you to some illegal activity going on on your property—I know you’ll want to cooperate in getting the criminals off your land and in jail where they belong.”
“Won’t you sit down?” Prentice indicated a pair of wing-back chairs arranged on either side of a small table. He and Graham sat, while Michael remained standing.
Prentice perched on the edge of his chair, gripping his knees. “You’ll need to explain things a little more clearly before I decide if I’m going to ‘cooperate.’” He didn’t exactly make quote marks in the air around the word, but Michael heard the qualifiers in his tone of voice. Prentice hadn’t gotten where he was by cooperating with anyone.
“We’ve been investigating a possible human trafficking case on federal lands adjacent to your ranch,” Graham said. “A man named Raul Meredes, with ties to a Mexican drug cartel, may be behind the ring.”
Michael studied Prentice, watching for a reaction to Meredes’s name. Did he imagine the way Prentice’s lips compressed and the muscles of his jaw tightened? “I’ve never heard of him,” Prentice said. “What does any of this have to do with me?”
“Our aerial reconnaissance has revealed a possible camp where we believe Meredes is holding a number of illegal aliens captive, located just outside the borders of your property.”
Prentice’s frown deepened at the words aerial reconnaissance, but he let it pass. “Let me make sure I understand you, Captain,” he said. “This isn’t happening on my property.”
“No, but—”
“Then, it really isn’t my concern.” He stepped aside. “You may leave now.”
Graham held up his hand. “We have reason to believe Meredes has been using the area—including portions of your estate—for the manufacture and production of narcotics, and as a way station for a human trafficking pipeline from Mexico and South Am
erica into Denver.”
“Drugs and human trafficking. Those are pretty serious charges. I think I would have noticed if anything like that was taking place around here, and I can promise you, I haven’t.”
“Your property encompasses over five hundred acres,” Graham said. “I think it would be impossible to monitor everything that takes place on an estate that size, especially when so much of it is roadless and rugged. We believe an operation that began on public lands has spilled over onto your property.”
“But you don’t have proof of that.” He looked as calm as if he was discussing the weather.
“If the trailers we spotted from the air are part of the illegal camp, the only way they could have reached their current location is by crossing your land,” Graham said.
“I don’t put much stock in speculation.” He stood back, a clear signal of dismissal. “Thank you for letting me know about this, gentlemen. I’ll have my men investigate the matter and I’ll let you know what I find.”
“This isn’t a matter for civilians,” Graham said. “We’ll need to conduct the investigation. That means we need access across your land to the site.”
Prentice looked as if he’d bitten into something rotten. “I see where this is going. This was all a ruse to gain access to my property.”
“The lives of innocent people are at stake here, Mr. Prentice.”
“If, as you say, they’re in this country illegally, and involved in the manufacture and distribution of drugs, then they are far from innocent.”
Michael wondered if Prentice practiced that sneer in the mirror, or if it came naturally.
“All we’re asking is permission to bring our crews and equipment across your land,” Graham said. “On a road that until your court action was a public thoroughfare.”
“The court has sided with me in agreeing that the road is private. And my property is private. I won’t have you using it to harass me further.”
“Mr. Prentice, this may be hard for you to believe, but the world does not revolve around you,” Michael said. “This is about other innocent lives that are in danger. Any momentary discomfort for you is incidental.”
Prentice glared at him. “I’ll ask you to leave now.” He turned to Graham. “If you do try anything, my private security force will prevent you from proceeding further. You’ll also be hearing from my attorneys.”
Graham took a step toward Prentice. He towered over the businessman by at least six inches, and outweighed him by fifty pounds. He didn’t raise his voice, because he didn’t have to. Years of command, first in the marines, then in law enforcement, had imbued him with a sense of authority. “You can either cooperate and give us access to the approach to that canyon, or I will obtain a warrant to search this property. We’ll bring in dog teams and helicopters and CSI and everyone else we can think of. We’ll search every inch of this place. And I’ll make sure the press knows why.”
Sweat beaded on Prentice’s upper lip, though his expression didn’t change. “That’s an invasion of privacy.”
“Yes, it is. But one that would be necessary.”
Michael could practically hear the man’s teeth grinding, but Graham had him backed into a corner, and he knew it. He might successfully stall for a while, but if Graham carried out his threat—especially if he got the media involved—Prentice would have no peace for weeks, even months. “You don’t really give me any choice, do you?” he said.
“Not really,” Graham answered.
Prentice stepped back. “Fine. Use the road. But my men will be watching, and if you travel too far afield, you will need that warrant.”
Graham nodded. “Thank you. We appreciate your cooperation.” He moved past the businessman; Michael followed.
They’d reached the front door when Prentice’s voice rang out behind them. “What will you do with Meredes?” he asked.
Graham looked back. “We’ll arrest him and question him. We don’t believe he’s acting alone. We believe he has someone in Colorado—someone with money and power—who is funding his operations. Possibly a large landowner with a history of antagonism toward the government.”
Prentice’s face reddened. “What are you saying?”
“I’m not saying anything, Mr. Prentice. Merely answering your question.” He nodded. “Goodbye.”
Michael waited until they were back in the vehicle before he spoke. “I don’t trust him,” he said. “He’s hiding something.”
“He’s probably hiding a lot of things,” Graham said. “Whether it’s anything we’re interested in or not, I don’t know.”
Right. What did they care about Prentice? “What next?”
“Now we see what Randall and Marco uncovered.”
They returned to the others, who stood in a cluster around the two Cruisers, Abby with them. Their eyes met, hers full of questions. He resisted the urge to go to her; now wasn’t the time. “We have Mr. Prentice’s permission to use the road,” Graham said.
“We’ll escort you,” the guard said.
Graham shrugged. “Do you know where we’re going?”
“We’ll follow you.” The guard looked toward the others.
“Don’t even think about suggesting they stay behind,” Graham said.
They returned to their vehicles and formed a caravan, this time with the guards’ two Jeeps bringing up the rear. “What happened in there?” Carmen asked as Michael guided his Cruiser behind Graham’s.
“About what we expected—he pretended all of this has nothing to do with him, that his private property rights trump any other concerns. I don’t trust him.”
“We’ve never trusted him,” Carmen said. “That doesn’t mean he’s guilty of anything. Maybe he really did close the road after noticing an uptick in traffic. He might not have anything to do with Meredes.”
“Then why not cooperate with our efforts to stop him?”
“He’s made his reputation out of not cooperating with the Feds on anything. What does he have to gain by doing so now? And he did cooperate in the end. How did Graham manage that?”
“He promised to come back with a warrant and a search team to tear the whole place apart. That worried Prentice enough to give in. But I’m sure we’ll be hearing from his lawyers.”
“And probably a few journalists. I’ve noticed he likes to make his case in the press, and they eat it up.”
He didn’t care about the press. “I wish now Abby had stayed at headquarters.”
“Then you would have had to stay, too. Meredes might have decided that was the perfect time to swoop in and take her and the baby.”
“You could have stayed with her.” Not that staying with Abby was a hardship, but he had a job to do. Staying out of the fray when people needed help struck him as wrong.
“Uh-uh. You signed on for bodyguard duty, not me. Why would I want to sit out the action?”
“I know Spanish. A lot of these immigrants don’t speak any English.”
“I know Spanish, too, amigo.”
They stopped at the edge of the wash. Graham climbed out of his Cruiser and the others joined him. “Randall and Marco said they think the trailers are down here,” he said.
“In the bottom of the wash?” Simon looked skeptical.
Graham walked to the edge the ravine and took out a pair of binoculars. “I see something.” He passed the glasses to Michael. Sunlight glinted off metal at the bottom of the wash.
One of the guards had out his own binoculars. “Looks to me as if the rancher who owned this before used it as a dump site,” he said. “People did that back then—when a ravine was full of junk cars and metal, they’d haul in a load of dirt to cover it up.”
“There’s no rust on that metal,” Michael said. “It hasn’t been sitting there for decades.”
Graham
reached into the Cruiser for his pack. “We’d better go down there.”
“We’d better hurry,” Carmen said. She’d taken out her own pair of binoculars. “I see movement.” She focused the glasses closer. “It’s a woman, and she’s waving something. I think she’s signaling for help.”
Chapter Fifteen
Abby stood on tiptoe, trying to see what was happening in the ravine, but here by the Cruiser, she was too far away from the action. Apparently, they’d found some people alive down there, but she had no idea who. She wanted to be helping, instead of stuck up here with this hot, heavy baby doll strapped to her torso. She was tempted to stick the doll in the back of the Cruiser and join the others at the ravine. Who would even notice? Prentice’s guards ignored her, their attention focused on the action below.
Michael emerged from the trail that led into the canyon and she started toward him, eager for news. Despite the tension between them earlier, she was sure he wouldn’t shut her out.
“Send every ambulance you can spare. And hurry.” He spoke not to her, but into his phone, as he hurried toward her.
“What’s going on?” she asked, meeting him in front of the vehicle.
“Hey. Are you okay?” He squeezed her arm and looked into her eyes.
“I’m fine. But what’s happening down there?” She nodded toward the canyon. “Who’s hurt?”
He released her and moved to the back of the Cruiser and began pulling out emergency gear—a first-aid kit, blankets and water. “It’s pretty bad down there,” he said. “Maybe a dozen wounded. Some dead.” He crammed supplies into a pack as he spoke.
“But how?” Abby tried to take in this news.
“Looks as though somebody—Meredes and his men, probably—pulled the trailers up to the edge of the ravine and pushed them over—with all the people locked inside.”
She stared at him, unsure she’d heard him correctly. “Is Mariposa there?” she asked, afraid to say the words.
