Grave Peril_Military Romantic Suspense

by Emily Jane Trent

  There was only one answer. Rip had to rescue her. But first he had to find her. He rocked back in his chair and gazed out the window. Lost in thought, he considered the possibilities. The pieces of the puzzle came together in his mind, and the more he thought about it, the more pissed he became.

  He couldn’t stomach the cartel terrorizing then murdering an innocent woman. It was up to him. He was the only man who could help her, and he wasn’t about to let her down.

  Rip launched from his chair and headed for his boss’s office. Travis was on the phone, but hung up when he saw the look on Rip’s face. “Is something up?”

  Too agitated to sit down, Rip paced in front of the desk. “Go to CNN and search ‘FBI deaths Houston.’” He waited while his boss got up to speed.

  Travis read the highlights, then looked up. “That’s some bad shit.” He frowned. “What does it have to do with you?”

  “I’ll tell you,” Rip said, pointing a finger at Travis. “I intend to rescue Lela Cabelo.”

  “The witness who escaped?” Travis raised his brows. “Do you know her?”

  “I know all I need to know.” Rip stopped in front of the desk. “She needs help, and I’m the one who can offer it.”

  Travis stared at him.

  “I’m the only man who stands a chance of finding her fast enough.” Rip threw up a hand. “The feds blew it. She won’t trust them now.”

  “You have a point.”

  “Security is our business. We’re in the loop about the cartel. I understand how they operate, how they think, and what they’re capable of. And Houston is my old stomping ground; I know the turf.”

  “But how do you plan to find a woman who’s on the run?”

  Rip shifted from one foot to the other. “Let me worry about that. I have a couple of ideas.” He started walking toward the door. “I need the jet. It’s about a three-hour flight, so you’ll have it back before morning. I’ll be at the airport in an hour. Instruct the pilot to drop me at Ellington Field. I don’t want to deal with the crowds at the commercial airports, or carry my Glock through security.”

  “I’ll have to see if he can get a flight plan for landing at the field…on short notice.”

  “Just tell him to get it.”

  “Stay in touch,” Travis said. “I don’t want you out there soloing it. You order backup if you need it. Got that?”

  Rip nodded. No further explanations were needed. His boss had faith in his judgment.

  “I’ll let Coop know,” Travis said. “He can cover for you while you’re gone.”

  “Thanks, man.” Rip left, strode back to his office, and grabbed his jacket. It was going to be tight. He had to stop by his apartment to grab a few items he’d need, then race to the airport. His Harley could whip along the freeways faster than his truck, so he’d take that.

  The shower would have to wait. When he got to Houston, he’d find some hotel and take care of his grooming. He couldn’t accost Lela with two days of beard growth and smelling like a derelict. That would scare the crap out of her. He’d have to make the effort to get presentable.

  But not until he’d arrived. Lela’s chances of survival were slim, and less with each passing hour. Rip would have preferred driving, and to have his truck with him. But he couldn’t afford a two-day road trip. Lela might be dead by then.

  *****

  Rip stepped off the private jet, carrying his duffel bag. Dusk had settled in, but the weather was mild, with a light breeze. The small airport was ideal for getting in and out of easily. But it didn’t have the usual amenities, such as car rental services.

  A cab was hovering at the curb outside the main entrance, so Rip slipped into the back seat and gave the cabbie directions. Once he was in the area, he’d find a place to stay. It wasn’t a neighborhood that was overwhelmed with tourists, so getting a room shouldn’t be a problem.

  It would be a thirty-minute drive to Magnolia Park, so Rip checked his phone for the latest news. The train station incident had garnered public interest, and the media kept the information coming. The report was that Lela Cabelo was missing. There were no clues on where she might have gone.

  No surprise there. And she’d better stay out of sight a while longer. Rip was getting to her as fast as he could. But it wasn’t like she’d left a trail. Lela was sharp; he’d noticed some details from the background information and come to that conclusion. She wasn’t going to be an easy target, and so far she’d outsmarted her enemies.

  Rip hadn’t arrived a moment too soon. According to the news, Lela had escaped early that morning. It hadn’t taken long for the press to get wind of the story and report on the deaths of the federal agents. But no leads had turned up on the location of the paralegal.

  Photos of the gang members appeared on the screen, blow-ups of pictures taken on a train passenger’s cell phone. The images weren’t close-ups, but Rip recognized the tattoos. He shuddered. The gang after Lela wouldn’t mess about.

  His goal was to find and rescue Lela without tipping off the cartel. The soulless gang tasked with tracking her down had contacts that penetrated deep into the city. Any sign of her would be reported, and the cartel minions would act fast, showing no mercy.

  Rip feared for Lela, but it was good that she’d been on the run for less than twenty-four hours. She might outsmart the gangs for a day or so, but that wouldn’t last. He would get there in time, dammit, and protect her from a fate she didn’t deserve.

  He had his own issues with the cartel, a score he hadn’t been able to settle. But this was not the moment for emotions to intervene. His mission was all about Lela. His focus had to stay laser sharp. The window of opportunity to connect with her might snap shut at any moment, so he’d best not allow any distractions.

  The cab arrived in Magnolia Park and dropped Rip at an Econo Lodge. He paid and got a room. The lodge was sufficient for the night. This wasn’t about a luxury vacation; just the essentials were required. He dumped his duffel on the bed and retrieved his travel kit.

  The shower was adequate and the hot water relaxed his muscles. He washed, shaved, and tended to his grooming. He let his long hair dry on its own, forgoing the use of the hairdryer bolted to the wall. Feeling human again, Rip sat in the one available chair and scanned maps of the area.

  He knew Houston like the back of his hand, or he had. But it had been years, and he couldn’t afford any mistakes. Things might have changed: establishments might have closed, or neighborhoods altered by renovations. So he scoped it out as best he could to be as prepared for the following day.

  Next on the agenda was dinner. Rip would have gone after Lela immediately. But it was dark outside, and lurking in the neighborhoods where he planned to go was best done in daylight.

  There was another factor to consider—Lela had no idea he was coming for her. He was a stranger, and as such, it would be bad judgment to approach her in the dead of night. The last thing he wanted was for her to run from him.

  Rip found a burger joint and devoured a double cheeseburger with fries. He had a milkshake with it for good measure. Missions had taught him to eat when the food was there, because there was no assurance of when the next meal would be available.

  He needed his strength. The cartel and their flunkies weren’t lightweights. They fought bloody and to the death. And Lela was depending on him, whether she knew that yet or not.

  With his belly full, Rip retired to his room for a few hours of sleep. He set the alarm for before dawn so he could be at his first destination by daylight.

  *****

  The next morning, Rip was up and out of the room when it was still dark out. He’d done a quick check on his phone. The media had no new information on the Lela Cabelo case. She was still missing, and the FBI had very little to say, other than they would do everything in their power to ensure her safety.

  Lela had to be scared to death. She was isolated, with nowhere to turn, unable to tell anyone where she was. Before a day ago, Rip hadn’t even heard her nam
e. But after looking into her background, and witnessing her brave move in the face of danger, he knew quite a bit about her.

  One thing that Rip was sure of was that Lela thought like he did. She was a fighter, a loner, and functioned well independently.

  Rip knew what he’d have done in her situation. He had to assume she’d done the same, and hoped he was right. But there were no guarantees.

  He didn’t bother to get a car, since he could navigate on foot. Walking was preferable to cruising along the streets while peering out the window like some predator. This way he could fit in, blend with the residents. He had enough of his mother’s Spanish blood in him to look like he belonged in the community.

  Magnolia Park was on the east end near the port, and was one of the oldest Hispanic neighborhoods in the city. It was early morning; dogs barked, kids played in fenced yards, and cafes were open for business.

  Rip strolled along the sidewalk, second-guessing his tactic. He had a pretty good idea about the areas where Lela would go. But there was a lot of ground to cover. He looked at a pink adobe building offering breakfast all day.

  Lela would have to eat, but chances were that she wouldn’t go out in the open. That eliminated the park and any well-known hotels. But she had to be around; Rip could feel it in his bones. He knew he was right.

  While the feds and the cartel would assume that Lela had run, she’d done no such thing. It was a clever move on her part. It was logical that a woman terrified of being caught by either faction would get as far away as she could.

  How far that was depended on her resources and how much money she had with her. Using credit was out of the question; any movie-goer knew that. So her pursuers were trying to figure out which direction she’d gone, and what her destination would be.

  Yet Lela had done the one thing they hadn’t suspected. Rip was positive that she hadn’t gone anywhere. Contrary to common logic, she’d stayed right where she was. The best place to hide was under their noses.

  Sooner or later, the bad guys would figure it out, by process of elimination. But that bought her time. It was smart. It was how Rip would have done it. He was proud of her, and he hadn’t even met her.

  He was here first, and he was certain that he was the only one who’d figured out her location. That could change in the blink of an eye, so he needed to get sharp and find her quick. The only thing was that there was no sign of her.

  He wasn’t sure what he’d expected. Did he think he’d just show her photo around until he found someone who had seen her? That was a sure way to bring down the fury of the cartel. Word of someone looking for her would spread like wildfire, with whispers through the community that led back to the gangs.

  Rip had to do this alone. He had to think like Lela. Where would she be?

  She’d come to the communities where she felt safe. It was easiest to hide in the city among friends, to disappear in familiar neighborhoods. She’d grown up in the city, just like he had. The gangs didn’t necessarily hang out in the places she knew, so they would lag in finding her.

  Magnolia Park wasn’t giving him any joy, so Rip hopped on the green line, the Metro to Second Ward. Hopefully, that would be more promising. The area was called Segundo Barrio by the residents, or second neighborhood. It had been one of the first Mexican-American barrios in the city.

  One of the historic plazas east of downtown might hold the answer. If Lela couldn’t be out in the open, then where would she go? Where was it safe? Where could she duck out of sight without fearing for her life?

  Rip’s pulse kicked up a notch. It dawned on him. He knew where she was. The Second Ward was home to Our Lady of Guadalupe, a prominent Mexican-American Catholic church. Churchgoers from many neighborhoods traveled to attend services there.

  Rip had been there many times, and no doubt Lela had too. It was a safe haven, a temporary respite. It had constructed one of the first schools for children in the neighborhood, and operated programs that provided food and shelter for needy individuals. Lela was a woman in need, and would have been welcomed—if she’d shown up there.

  The brick church stood proudly at the edge of a crumbling sidewalk. It was a weekday, so there were no throngs of parishioners. It would be too much to hope for that Rip would walk inside and find her kneeling in the pews.

  He stepped inside the cool interior to find it empty. There was no sight of Lela, so he went back outside. On the other side of the walkway was the brick schoolhouse. He casually walked up the sidewalk, hearing the sounds of children in the classrooms through the windows.

  Behind the school was a playground that was vacant. Rip stepped around the corner, then stood under the patio awning, looking at the kids’ slide and the flagpole at the far side of the yard. He dropped his duffel bag on the patio, and wondered if he’d hit another dead end.

  A light whiff of perfume feathered into his nostrils, but there were no flowers in bloom. In the next second, a sharp impact to his Achilles heel alerted Rip to an attack. His leg buckled and he stumbled back into the brick wall. In a flash, there was a blade against his neck, so he stilled. The cold knife pressed against his jugular.

  Chapter 5

  It wouldn’t do to get his throat slit, so Rip didn’t move a muscle. His attacker had approached from behind, so he didn’t have a visual. Then a female whispered in his ear, “Who are you? What do you want?”

  “I want to help you.” Rip waited. “This would be easier if you’d take that knife away from my throat.”

  “I don’t need help.” She spoke from her position behind him, and her breath grazed his ear. “And I don’t know you, anyway.”

  Rip gave her a minute.

  “You don’t look like a fed,” she said.

  “No, I’m not a fed.”

  “You look more like a gang member, minus the tattoos.”

  “No again,” Rip said calmly. “Try Navy SEAL turned bodyguard.”

  She hesitated, then removed the knife. “You’d better not be lying to me.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  Lela Cabelo stepped in front of him, keeping her distance. She looked into his eyes to judge his sincerity. The hand holding a piece of silverware dropped to her side, but she didn’t relax. “You better be telling the truth, because next time I’ll be armed with more than a butter knife.”

  Lela was gorgeous when she was angry. Her brown eyes were ablaze. Her thick, dark hair flowed wildly around her lovely face. Her full lips and flushed skin added to her allure. Rip refocused. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “Well, you should have announced yourself, then. Instead, you went into the church as if looking for someone. Then you stalked around the schoolhouse.”

  She’d been watching him. Rip was impressed. “I wasn’t sure you were here. It was just a hunch.”

  “So who the hell are you?”

  Rip motioned toward the playground. “Can we move out there? I’ll tell you everything, but I dislike feeling like I’m being interrogated.”

  Lela moved aside and let him walk into the yard. He leaned against the stairs to the slide and bent one knee to rest his foot on the bottom step.

  He kept his eyes on Lela as she stepped off the patio, took a seat on the concrete bench, then placed the knife beside her. He wasn’t sure that she wouldn’t make another move against him. It wasn’t that he couldn’t handle that, but he didn’t want to hurt her in the process.

  Lela sat with her hands in her lap, but looked wary.

  “I’m Ripley McConnell. Just call me Rip. I work for Stealth Security in Los Angeles as a bodyguard for VIPs,” Rip said. “I can show you my ID.”

  “Anyone can dummy up an ID.” Lela glared at him. “I’m going to check out your story, you know.”

  “I would hope so.”

  “You didn’t answer my second question: what do you want?” Lela crossed her arms and held his gaze.

  “I just want to keep you alive a little longer.”

  “I’ve done pretty wel
l on my own.”

  “Yes, you have,” Rip said. It had been quite a feat to escape the cartel and still be alive the next day.

  “I don’t need your help.”

  Rip pondered that for a second. “Probably not. But even SEALs work in teams.”

  Lela didn’t have a quick comeback.

  “So,” Rip said, leaning back as a sign that he wasn’t here to force her, “how about if you let me assist you?”

  *****

  Lela was in a tight spot. If this guy had found her, then others would too. She’d liked it better when she’d been alone, convinced that she’d been safe.

  Now she looked into the eyes of a stranger, and he expected her to put her life in his hands. She studied Ripley McConnell and couldn’t make up her mind.

  The guy was a stud; she’d give him that. He was about six feet and solidly built. She suspected that, under the leather jacket, he sported quite a bit of muscle. But he was rough around the edges. His black hair was long, dusting his shoulders. And he had a tiny earring in one ear, a few silver rings on his fingers, and wore cowboy boots.

  It annoyed Lela that she found him handsome. He’d intruded on her life, barged in without being asked, and he just might get her killed. “So…who sent you?”

  Rip shook his head. “No one, and your enemies don’t know about me.” He proceeded to tell her a far-fetched story about how he’d learned of her situation, then gone into action. Most suspicious was that he claimed the only reason he’d sought her out was to protect her.

  Lela bit at her lower lip. “Okay, say for now that I believe you. There’s something that worries me.”

  Rip squatted and sat on one of the steps. “What’s that?”

  “How did you find me?”

  “Reconnaissance is my expertise. I figured some stuff out about you. I had an idea how you’d think.” Rip shrugged. “Turns out…I was right.”

  Lela threw her arms up. “Well, if you figured it out, then others will too.”

  “Yes, but I got here first. And they aren’t as smart as I am, and don’t know this area like I do.” When she raised her brows, Rip added, “I was born and raised in Houston; still have family here. My younger brother is Houston PD.”