Raw Talent

by Debra Webb

  The primary objective for these scumbags was to extract the location of the children. They wanted those kids bad.

  He closed his eyes and wished for sleep and the relief from pain it would bring. But the adrenaline flowing through his body, prompted by the pain, wouldn’t permit that much needed respite.

  If he couldn’t lose himself to sleep maybe he could go for a waking fantasy. Shouldn’t be that hard. All he had to do was think about Gabrielle.

  She was safe. He knew it. She was too strong and too capable to get caught considering the out he’d given her.

  He admired the way she showed her determination in the field. She’d risked everything to help those kids. She’d stuck right with him when it would have been in her best interest to cut out. To save herself and to hell with him or the kids.

  And that wasn’t even counting the way his body had responded to hers in that hole while they’d lain there all those hours. He’d almost lost his mind, had come close to losing his dignity, as well.

  She made him want to risk whatever the future held. She made him want more from life.

  It was just a dream. A fantasy. He couldn’t put anyone’s, especially not Gabrielle’s, heart on the line. He couldn’t promise her next year or even next week. His health was too uncertain.

  But he could fantasize about what it would be like to make love to her. To have her as a part of his life. Not just for a few days but for the long haul.

  His eyes closed and he thought of how it would feel for them to be lying together skin to skin…the soft swells and valleys of her body molding to his hard contours. She would be an ambitious lover, he was certain. Her arms around him and her mouth devouring his. That would be heaven. She’d wanted to take that one kiss they’d shared a lot deeper. He’d felt her offering more…inviting him in fully. Maybe he should have followed her lead…let whatever would be happen. Then he wouldn’t be lying here regretting not knowing her that way.

  The creak of the door warned him someone was coming. A.J. tucked his dreams away and braced himself for what was to come. More torture. Maybe something more creative this time. The punches and kicking were getting old. Surely these guys had a better bag of tricks.

  An order, sharply issued in Spanish, was made for the prisoner to be restrained in a different manner. A.J. didn’t fully understand the swiftly doled out orders.

  A.J. pried his swollen eyes open just enough to see through the meager slits as two men, one on either side of him, tugged him to his feet. He swallowed the groan of pain that shuddered through him on the heels of the misery the movement initiated.

  His arms were secured tightly above his head and he was left to hang there like a side of beef. His feet were on the ground but there was no way in his current condition that he could hold up his weight. His shirt and T-shirt had been ripped from him hours ago. He didn’t have to look down to know his chest was likely black and blue and skinned here and there. Not to mention the bullet hole low on his side.

  “Mr. Braddock,” a voice said, one he hadn’t heard before, “your resistance is becoming tedious.”

  A.J. worked hard at getting his eyes open far enough and his face angled in the right direction to see the person addressing him. Tall. Definitely Hispanic. Wore a suit for the occasion. Expensive suit. Classy shoes. He’d seen him before, standing back watching the show. So A.J.’d been right, this was the top dog.

  “Sorry I’m boring you, you piece of dirt,” A.J. muttered, his lips stinging with the effort.

  The man swept the lapels of his elegant suit aside and braced his hands on his hips. Rings glittered from several fingers. He looked as if he hadn’t done a hard day’s work in his life. Appeared to be about thirty-five and well-manicured. He reeked of money.

  “I don’t want to kill you, Mr. Braddock.” The man smiled. Nice teeth, too. Probably spent megabucks keeping them all shiny and bright white. “At least not yet. I want the location of the children.”

  “I want a vacation,” A.J. snapped back, “but, hey, we don’t always get what we want.”

  His meticulously maintained face hardened. “My friends here want to utilize another technique for learning the truth from you.”

  The squeak of wheels turning called A.J.’s attention toward the steel cart rolling toward him. The lowlife pushing the cart grinned widely at A.J.’s sudden interest.

  The cart held an array of goods, most of which A.J. recognized. A battery for producing a charge. A set of something similar to jumper cables for jump-starting a car. Only these cables had been modified on one end. The modifications allowed for paddles that could be pressed to human flesh and which could conduct an electrical charge that would prove immensely painful but wouldn’t induce death by stopping the heart.

  “I’m inclined to believe,” the well-dressed bastard continued, “that additional torture is not necessary.”

  A.J. looked from the suit to the grinning idiot and back. “I don’t have any other plans for the afternoon.”

  The suit nodded to his less well-groomed cohort. “In that case, I’ll leave you to the games.” He started to turn away but then shifted back to face A.J. “When I return, I’ll bring along your friend. Perhaps you’ll be more cooperative in her company.”

  Fear throttled through A.J. Had they caught Gabrielle? He’d hoped she would get away.

  His attention was momentarily distracted by the flying sparks generated by rubbing the two paddles together.

  Well, at least it would be a change from the routine so far. He steeled himself for the agony to come and focused on an image of Gabrielle. If he were lucky the electrical current would stop his heart and he wouldn’t have to watch her tortured.

  But that would be the easy way out.

  If she had been caught then he had to figure out a way to get loose so he could help her.

  He couldn’t let her go through anything like this.

  AS PROMISED, Amy struggled, whipping her body like a bow in the hands of the two men. They swore, labored to get her under control so she could be carried to wherever they intended to take her.

  Gabrielle had positioned herself where she could see under the edge of the tarp beyond the stiff taking up space in front of her. The smell was nearly intolerable. Knowing hers as well as Amy’s and Braddock’s lives depended upon her keeping quiet was all that stalled the instinctive need to gag repeatedly.

  Amy wiggled, moaned and groaned and threw her head back. The latter resulted in a couple of head butts with her captors. Curses and threats punctuated the men’s efforts to get her under control. Gabrielle had to give the other woman credit, she was doing a stellar job of making their lives miserable for the moment.

  Finally they gave up on any real control and dragged her away, their full attention required for the task.

  Gabrielle scrambled out from under the tarp. She carefully re-covered the stiff, on second thought taking a moment to see if she recognized him. Male, Hispanic. She hadn’t seen him before, she was certain.

  She glanced out the rear van doors, didn’t see anyone. She decided to take a chance and check the guy for ID. A leather wallet held official credentials. Detective Hernando Cervantes. Cop. Damn.

  Apparently these guys weren’t afraid of anyone, not even the police.

  Gabrielle eased to the rear doors, still standing open the way the two jerks had left them, and stole a peek outside. A compound was definitely the right way to describe the location.

  Like Sloan’s property, the whole place was protected by a high wall of about ten or twelve feet. Several buildings, none as nice as Sloan’s house, occupied the property. One looked like a three-story residence. All appeared to be constructed of stone and stucco.

  She hadn’t seen any guards as of yet, but that didn’t mean there weren’t plenty around.

  Holding her breath, she slipped out of the van and headed for the nearest cover, a small building near the wall.

  She flattened against the side of the building and surveyed the area fir
st left then right.

  The sun beat down on the stone walls, drives and walkways, forcing the heat to rise as if coming from a preheated oven. Or hell.

  Her heart prematurely contracted when two men, both armed, strolled around the corner of one of the larger buildings. The two spoke, too low for her to make out the dialogue, and laughed as they continued across the open courtyard.

  She counted six buildings. Staying put and biding her time, she observed more than a dozen men moving around on the property. All were well-armed and physically fit-looking.

  No way she could take more than two of them unless she got really lucky.

  From what she could tell, the largest of the buildings was a house. Two other buildings were either guard shacks or places where business was conducted. A lot of ground to cover and no backup.

  She couldn’t do this alone.

  Problem was, she didn’t know a soul in Mexico except Sloan and she didn’t actually know him, not to mention he was out of the country.

  As Amy had said, there wasn’t time for help to get here from the Colby Agency. Though the men back at the house had mentioned some new arrivals at a private airfield, Gabrielle had no way of knowing who they were talking about.

  There was a dead cop in the back of the van she’d ridden in, which pretty much made the police useless. Who knew if they would even believe her much less have the guts to come back here prepared to fight?

  What she needed was a miracle.

  First thing she had to do was to get out of here and make a call. There was one person she could ask for advice.

  He might not be able to help her, but he’d been in the PI business longer than her; maybe he would have some advice at the very least.

  She waited until the coast was clear, then she headed for the wall. There had to be a gate somewhere. The question was, could she get past the guards that would most likely be posted there?

  She wouldn’t know until she tried.

  Two gates. One main front entrance, one less overpowering side entrance. She opted for the latter.

  A ride out would be nice since she didn’t have any idea where she was. She could see buildings beyond the wall, which made her think she might be in a larger city.

  She didn’t recognize any of the architectural landmarks. An ancient-looking, pink quarry-stone cathedral. Towering stucco buildings. But nothing familiar to her. She had never traveled in Mexico before and whatever she’d studied about it in school was long gone from her memory.

  The guard shack was integrated into the gate on one side. The best she could hope for was to get out whenever a vehicle exited by using the vehicle for cover.

  She hunkered in the shrubbery near the gate to wait for an opportunity.

  Luck appeared to be on her side for once and she didn’t have to wait long. A black SUV rolled up to the gate. The driver and the guard in the shack chatted while the gate slowly arched open.

  Gabrielle held her breath and emerged from her hiding place. She eased up alongside the SUV and stayed crouched below the level of the windows to prevent being seen. She hoped like hell no one in the house happened to be looking out a window just then and spotted her.

  As the SUV rolled forward through the gate, she jogged alongside it, careful to stay next to the rear passenger side tire in the blind spot so she wouldn’t be seen by the driver via his mirrors.

  Once beyond the gate, she flatted against the exterior of the wall. When the gate had closed and the SUV was out of sight, she dared to move.

  The compound sat on the edge of a town. No, not a town. A city. As she looked beyond the three- and four-story buildings on the surrounding streets, she could see a massive city sprawled over the landscape. The architecture was magnificent.

  Finally she spotted a sign. Chihuahua.

  Okay, at least she knew where she was.

  All she needed now was a phone.

  She walked along the street, considered the options. Would anyone allow her to use the phone? And even if someone let her use the phone, would the long-distance service be like that of the U.S.?

  No, she decided. What she needed were American tourists. That would require she get deeper into the city.

  Gabrielle hailed the next driver who passed and in her best broken Spanish offered him twenty bucks in American money to take her to the nearest tourist hangout.

  The driver was a smart guy. He took Gabrielle to a large open air market. Very popular with the American tourists, he assured her. She gave him his money and thanked him profusely. He didn’t comment on her haggard and dirty appearance.

  Gabrielle immersed herself in the crowd of tourists. She pretended to consider the goods being sold but her attention had zeroed in on two Americans who looked particularly well-to-do. Fancy dressers. The woman carried a designer handbag that cost more than two months’ rent back at Gabrielle’s Chicago apartment.

  The man wore his cell phone in a holster on his belt.

  That was Gabrielle’s target.

  She needed that phone.

  When the couple stopped at a table loaded with Mexican pottery, Gabrielle saw her chance. She strolled over, pretended to trip and fall into the man, who in turn knocked his wife forward. Pottery shattered on the cobblestone. The man hawking the goods scrambled to save his stock.

  “I’m so sorry,” Gabrielle cried, steadying herself by holding on to the man.

  “You all right?” he asked as he helped her to regain her footing.

  “You should watch where you’re going,” his female companion snapped as she righted herself.

  “Sorry,” Gabrielle said again as she backed away a step. She shrugged at the vendor. “Sorry.”

  He swore at her in Spanish and made a sweeping motion with his hands as if he wanted her to get away from his table. Gabrielle was happy to oblige. She already had what she needed.

  She moved quickly away from the couple. She wanted to get as far away as possible before the man realized his cell phone was missing.

  Then she found a quiet place and opened the phone. She smiled. Latest technology. Fully charged. Oh, yeah. This was exactly what she’d needed.

  She entered the number for Todd Thompson’s cell phone.

  “Thompson.”

  Gabrielle moistened her lips and took a steadying breath. “Thompson, I need your help.”

  “Gabrielle? Where the hell are you? What have you gotten yourself into?”

  “Look, Thompson, I don’t have time to explain. I need your help.”

  Silence. Gabrielle closed her eyes and for the second time in her adult life, she prayed.

  “What do you need?”

  Emotion burned her eyes and she promised God she would pay him back for this. “I don’t have time to explain all the details, but the bad guys have Braddock and Amy. They’re both dead if I can’t break them out.”

  “I should let Victoria know,” he said, tension rising in his voice.

  “In a minute. Right now I need you to access the system and tell me what supply assets in Chihuahua can be relied on.”

  “You’re in Chihuahua?”

  “Yeah. Look, Thompson, you have to hurry or it’ll be too late.”

  “Okay, okay.” She could hear him pecking at the keys of his office computer. “What type of assets do you need?”

  Gabrielle had thought about that. Hoping to find backup was too risky. There was no way to know who she could count on and who she couldn’t. Besides, she had Braddock and Amy, all she needed was enough of a distraction to get them freed and the three of them could fight their way out if necessary. But that scenario depended upon her being able to create a big enough diversion to keep all those guards busy.

  Not a problem. She’d come up with a workable plan. All she needed was the right supplies.

  “Nothing complicated,” she assured him. “I just need to blow something up.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Gabrielle looked at the building then at the address just to make sure she had it righ
t.

  Yep. Man, talk about a pigsty. The terra-cotta stucco had faded to something along the lines of a nasty orangey beige. Several of the windows were boarded over. Abandoned junk lay around outside. Not exactly an upscale address.

  The weight of her 9 mm in her shoulder bag gave her some amount of comfort but even she, and she could be pretty cocky, recognized this meeting could go badly.

  Still, she didn’t have time to do any better. This was it. She looked at the clock on the cell phone she’d stolen. An hour had passed since she’d left Amy at that compound. Every minute could be Braddock’s as well as Amy’s last. The cell phone had started to ring soon after she’d lifted it, so she’d set the ringer style to silent.

  Thompson was certain about this point of contact. Well, as certain as he could be considering he’d never met the guy. This was a Colby Agency asset. Last recorded contact, three years ago.

  Hell, the guy could be dead, for all Gabrielle knew.

  But he was the only contact she had.

  And since she had very little cash with her, she was going to have to wing it on that, as well.

  Oh well, if she died today it wasn’t likely a couple more infractions were going to make or break her destiny.

  She walked up to the front entrance of the building, didn’t slow down until she’d marched right through the door. Inside the condition was about the same: falling apart. The beige-brown stuff on the floor might have once been carpet, but she couldn’t be sure.

  The smell, well it was better than the van, but that wasn’t saying much considering there had been a dead man along for the ride.

  Gabrielle shuddered. A dead detective. Not a good sign for things to come.

  The enemy wasn’t afraid of the local authorities. That much was clear.

  “You lost, lady?” The man who greeted her looked anything but happy to have company. His face was too thin, his nose too long, and the beady eyes didn’t help his overall lack of appeal. He did dress well though. Pleated slacks, button-down shirt with a tie hanging loose around his neck.