Guarding Gaby

by Jean Brashear

  Get a grip, Gaby. She was mostly playing mind games with herself to distract her from how worried she was about Eli. How mad she was at him for leaving her behind, blast him. This was no time to be a hero.

  Except he couldn’t help it. Eli was hero material, down to the bone. For the first time since he’d explained the situation to her, she had the time and space to ponder what had truly happened, all those years ago.

  He’d given her up in order to save her. Just as he’d denied himself the chance to be her first lover because it was best for her.

  In his opinion, anyway. Damn you, Eli—when are you going to let me think for myself?

  Mentally, she apologized. He’d had a far more intimate acquaintance with the dark side of life than even she had understood, close as they’d been. He, like her father, had shielded her from the harsh realities.

  Oh, Papa. Grief struck her afresh as she contemplated how she’d lashed out at him for locking her in her room. For keeping her from Eli. He’d been trying, in the only way he could, to protect her, and she’d hurled bitter words at him.

  The road before her blurred as she realized how alone he must have felt.

  I could have handled the truth, Papa. I would have helped, if only you’d told me.

  But could she have, really? Wrapped in the cocoon of his devotion, had she been strong or merely headstrong?

  Heaven save her from overprotective men.

  I’m sorry, Papa. I hope you can hear me. Maybe someday I’ll deserve your forgiveness, but I don’t know how.

  At last, Alpine appeared in the distance. Gaby thrust away the past that haunted her and prepared herself to see if she could help to create a future for Eli.

  An hour and a whole lot of patience later, Gaby emerged from the bank with an envelope full of papers, her heart racing at what she’d scanned in the privacy area of the vault.

  Bless you, Papa, both for compiling this and for having the foresight to leave a note with permission for me to access the box.

  She couldn’t wait to read the whole thing, but she wouldn’t do that now. She tucked them behind the seat of the pickup, though everything in her ached to pore over them this second, in hopes that there would be no need for Eli to risk whatever he was doing tonight.

  Please don’t try to find me. I promise I’ll meet you tomorrow night at the cave.

  The hours until then would be endless. She decided to get gas before she left town and stop to buy more extensive groceries as a leap of faith that she would need to feed Eli.

  He needed fattening up. He was too lean.

  Oh, lordy…Gaby burst into giggles. She was the furthest thing from the he needs fattening up type.

  Look what you’ve done to me, Eli. Next thing you know, I’ll be wearing a ruffled apron.

  She was still grinning to herself when she pulled into the grocery store parking lot. She stopped in a shady spot at the edge of the pavement, knowing that wouldn’t do much to keep the pickup cool, but anything would help. She carefully stashed the brown envelope behind the seat, then emerged and locked the cab.

  A hand clapped over her face, a strong arm gripped her from behind. She struggled against the hold and the sickly sweet fumes—

  Until darkness claimed her.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Eli hunkered down in his observation point, attempting to stem the unease he’d felt ever since he’d detoured on his way here to check on Gaby’s return.

  And found her still gone.

  The reasons could be many. She might have decided to take his advice and go back to New York. Or perhaps the lure of civilization—however far Alpine was from Manhattan’s level—proved too much to resist. Maybe the bank was giving her trouble, and she’d had no choice but to stay late and return after dark—

  There were a million possibilities, many of them harmless. But even without her knowing exactly what he intended, she was aware that he had plans tonight and that they entailed risk.

  The woman who’d battled to keep him alive would have returned at the first opportunity, even understanding that she couldn’t locate him until he was ready to be found. She would still want to be close.

  He heard engines in the distance and forced his mind to the present. There was nothing he could do for Gaby now. With all this heart he hoped she would be there when he was done.

  Man, he was ready for this to be over.

  He’d spent much time as an observer, little as a warrior. There were any number of men he’d met he could wish at his side, but that was not his fate now. He was on hiw own, as he had been much of his life.

  To settle himself, he double-checked his weapons: the nine millimeter at his hip, the thirty-two at his ankle, the Gerber knife at his waist. He’d already tested the night-vision camera.

  Then he spotted the headlamps of the trucks, disguised as they were by louvered shields. A moonless night like this, though the traditional favorite of smugglers, was hell on night vision lenses. Too little ambient light for them to gather optimal images, necessitating the use of an infrared flashlight to help identify faces or license plates. Identification and documentation were all he could hope to manage, only one man and in his less than optimal condition.

  He hoped to hell it would be enough. He wanted badly to be free of all this, to clear his name, to have Frank’s killer identified and arrested. It was too late to do the same for his mother.

  For her, he would live, and that would be his vengeance. His tribute.

  And if he were very lucky, he would have at least a little more time with Gaby.

  The thought of her stirred his unease again. His plan would have him out of here in a couple of hours and back at the cave, but instead of waiting out the day to meet her the following night, he decided he would slip away in dawn’s murky light and find her. Wake her with kisses. Steal her from this place and rendezvous with authorities who would take it from there. Finish this, so he and Gaby could go on with their lives.

  The trucks rumbled nearer, headed north toward the waiting cargo vans he’d already photographed. Their drivers had yet to emerge.

  An unexpected engine could be heard from the west. Eli slipped deeper into the vegetation and out of the path of this new set of headlights not so thoroughly disguised. He frowned, unsure what was happening, but at that moment, the first northbound truck rolled to a stop.

  Eli lifted his camera and began filming again, wishing he could get closer to be certain that the audio was sufficient. He kept his own breaths as shallow as possible so that his respirations wouldn’t mask the conversations much farther away.

  The second truck hadn’t yet arrived when the back of the first opened, disgorging its load.

  Women. Girls, really, Asian girls so young some could not have entered puberty yet. He caught snippets of conversation in Cambodian, which he knew a little, and what he believed to be Chinese, though he spoke hardly any of that. Vietnamese, as well, a jumble of frightened voices from terrified, dirty faces, most of them cowed and confused, some bruised and all so emaciated that his gorge rose.

  He’d witnessed much suffering in his travels. He understood how much of the world did not share American values and emphasis on the importance of the individual, but the human capacity for cruelty never ceased to astonish and sicken him.

  Everything in him craved to race down this hillock and make the bastards pay. No one should be able to rationalize trafficking in human slavery.

  He would only become one of the prisoners, however, and solve nothing, save no one. So he kept filming, documenting each face, hoping that his efforts would help free these women one day soon.

  But while he filmed, he burned.

  From the cargo vans, crates marked as weapons were unloaded, then shifted to the big trucks, while the human cargo was jammed into the vans, likely with no water and no food. These people would have been locked in containers on ships, then brought overland from the Mexican coast or up through Central America. They’d probably journeyed for weeks n
ow on subsistence nutrition only, and some of them would have already died, though the traffickers would keep that number to a minimum. They were paid by the head, after all.

  Like cattle, except livestock were shown more mercy. Eli steeled himself to continue, but in his agitation, he shifted slightly and, balance fouled by his bad arm, dislodged a small shower of rocks.

  He froze. Only one man seemed to notice.

  But that one man lifted a radio to his mouth, and Eli knew the jig was up. He had to decamp quickly or lose all he’d gathered this night.

  “Wolverton—” an unfamiliar voice, heavily accented, shouted from below. “Show yourself.”

  Shocked to hear his name called, still he moved with all the stealth possible, seeking the best path.

  “We have what you would call a trump card,” said the man he still didn’t recognize. “I suggest you take a look before you try to vanish.”

  Dread balled in his gut. Eli rose barely enough to see and not enough to be spotted, but once he got a glimpse, nothing else mattered.

  There, in the headlights of the recent arrival, gagged and bound—

  Stood Gaby. Face bruised. Clothing torn.

  Don’t do it, Eli, Gaby tried to scream against her gag. If you’re out there, run! She struggled in her captor’s hold.

  He slapped her. “Shut up!”

  She hoped desperately that Eli hadn’t seen the blow. She could only imagine his rage if he had. She wanted to fight the man herself, but he was twice her size and her thrashing about would only result in further provocation for Eli to reveal his position.

  Eli was strong, but he was injured and severely outnumbered. Their only chance lay in his self-control.

  “What kind of man lets his woman take his punishment?” her captor roared. “He is no man at all, do you not think so, Rico?”

  One of the other men laughed. They swore and insulted Eli in Spanish, in which he was fluent. With every taunt, her spirits sank.

  She looked around her at the vans being loaded up, some already taking off, and wondered exactly what was being smuggled. Then, in the partially-open rear of the last one, she saw.

  Illegal immigrants, she thought at first, then realized they were not Hispanic. Then she got a closer look and spotted the bound hands, the rail-thin frames, the tilted eyes.

  Oh, no. No. All women and girls. She felt sick. The sex trade? Outrage swamped her. She jerked, but her captor’s grip only tightened. “Be still—”

  Desperate to escape, to help, she drew back her foot and kicked hard at the side of his knee as she’d been taught in self-defense class.

  He went down with a roar, hauling her with him. He reared above her, arm cocked to slam his fist in her face—

  Behind his back, she spotted a figure vaulting over the top of the rise, still in shadow. Her heart sank. No, Eli, no—

  A pickup screeched to a stop beside them. The driver’s door opened, and a man charged, weapon drawn. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Pablo? Get off her—now!”

  Chad. For once, she was thrilled to see him.

  Her captor’s head whipped around at Chad’s cry. The man who must be Pablo leaped to his feet with surprising quickness and jerked her to standing in front of him, brandishing his own weapon. “I’m taking care of what you failed to manage, Anderson. She found the papers her father had hidden. You were too busy panting after her to do your job, so I will.”

  Oh, no. Eli was right. Chad is part of this. The knowledge sickened her.

  “Let her go.” Chad’s face was a mask of rage as he scanned her face. “Or I’ll blow your head off.”

  Her captor simply turned the muzzle and jammed it into her temple. “I don’t think so. Drop your weapon.”

  “No way. Carlos—” Chad called out. “Get the trucks moving. You stay behind.”

  “Sí, jéfé.” The man stepped from behind the lead van. He issued rapid orders, and the vans and trucks quickly dispersed.

  “You’re outnumbered, Pablo,” Chad said. “Let her go.”

  “You should learn to count better, Sheriff,” Pablo sneered.

  Gaby glanced over and saw that the man named Carlos had his weapon trained not on her captor but on Chad.

  Chad’s eyes widened when he spotted the same thing. “Carlos, our fathers worked together. We’re friends.” He shot a glance at Gaby, but she couldn’t read his expression. Nonetheless, she readied herself. Maybe she could unbalance her captor again and give Chad an edge.

  “Your lust for this woman has blinded you, compadre.” The muzzle jammed harder into her temple.

  Then Carlos spoke up. “Your father was a bastard, Chad. He stole from his crew. He killed my uncle, one of his own men. I owe you nothing.”

  “Do not move again, amigo,” Pablo said.

  She realized Chad had been edging away, perhaps to get a better shot. Despite everything he might have done, she couldn’t stand to see him killed.

  Eli, where are you?

  “Hey! You—Pablo—” Eli called out.

  Her captor whirled, and the gun at her temple wavered. She heard a faint report, and the man beside her jolted as if struck. Began to fall, dragging her with him—

  She battled to keep her feet, but his weight was too much for her. She landed with a thud. Her captor collapsed on top of her.

  More shots, a hail of them.

  She tried to scramble away from her captor, but he was dead weight, pinning her.

  “Gaby, stay down—” Eli yelled.

  A shout of pain beside her. A falling body. Everywhere, gunfire. She couldn’t see—Couldn’t breathe—

  Eli, she screamed against her gag. Oh, please not Eli—

  She shoved and pushed, desperate to wriggle free, to find out if the man she loved was alive or dead—

  The unbearable weight was suddenly lifted. Someone grabbed her arm. She fought him—

  “Sh-h, Gaby. Hush, it’s me.”

  “Eli?”

  He stripped away her gag, then went to work on her hands.

  “Yes, sweetheart, it’s me.” His voice was unsteady. “How bad are you hurt?”

  “I’m okay—”

  Suddenly her hands were free, and he yanked her into his embrace.

  “Are you hit, Eli?” She raced her shaking hands over him.

  “No.”

  “Oh, thank heaven.” She reached for his face. Flung her arms around him and held on for dear life.

  Eli’s grip tightened, too. “Okay,” he said. “We’re okay. But we have to move, Gaby.”

  Then she realized that everything was silent. “Are they gone? Is everyone—” She couldn’t seem to stop shivering.

  Then behind her, she heard a moan and turned. Gasped.

  “Chad. Eli, it’s Chad.” She scrambled over to him.

  Chad lay on the ground a few feet away, his face a mask of agony. In the headlight from his truck, she spotted dark wet, dark pools all around him.

  “Oh, no—Eli, we have to help him.”

  Eli bent over Chad, his face grim.

  “Gabriela.” Chad’s voice was barely a whisper. “I never meant—”

  “Chad, don’t talk. We’ll get you to a doctor.”

  “Too…late.” His breaths were shallow pants. “Leave…now. They’ll come…back.” He looked past her at Eli. “Get her…out.”

  Whatever he’d done wrong, she couldn’t simply walk away. They’d meant something to each other once.

  “Chad—” She clasped his hand between hers. “You can make it. Don’t give up—”

  “No time—” he gasped. “Eli. Dad…lied.”

  “Of course he did,” she spoke before Eli could. “Eli was innocent. But why, Chad? How did you get involved with this?”

  A faint smile crossed his lips. “Show Dad…who was…better son.”

  “What?” She frowned. “What do you mean?”

  He didn’t answer, staring beyond her at Eli, who stood frozen. A shiver ran through her.

 
Eli shook his head violently. Stepped back in horror. “No. That can’t—no.”

  Chad’s nod was barely visible. “Yes. Half…brothers. Put you…in his will. Didn’t…want to share.”

  “What?” Even in the poor light, she could see Eli’s face drained of all color. “No. He hated me. He wouldn’t—”

  Chad tried to laugh, but instead, a horrible gurgle emerged. “But respected…your guts. Beat me…too. Said I…spoiled…weak—” He choked, and blood spilled from between his lips.

  “Chad!” she cried. Faced Eli. “What can we do? Where’s your pack?”

  But Eli was focused on Chad, his face a mask of confusion and sorrow.

  She twisted, bent over the man on the ground. Watched him go still, his eyes grow sightless. “No! Chad, no—”

  Eli stirred. Knelt and felt for pulse. “He’s gone.” His voice was a monotone.

  “But—” She wrestled to make sense of what had happened.

  Eli stirred. “We have to leave. The sound of gunshots travels. As he said, someone will come back.”

  She stared down at the man who’d once been a golden boy, the adored child who had everything. Thought about the shocking revelations. “Your…brother? I can’t—”

  Eli’s face had gone stone still again. “That sick bastard.” His eyes were pure devastation.

  The radio in Chad’s truck crackled and forced them back to the moment. The danger that wasn’t over.

  She glanced down at Chad’s unmoving form. “What do we do about—”

  “Nothing.”

  “He tried to help me. He cared about me once,” she whispered. “He’s your family.”

  The sound of an engine broke the night.

  “You’re my only concern now.” Eli grabbed her arm. “We’ll notify the authorities about where he is, once I have you safely away.” He moved quickly beyond the circle of light. She had no choice but to follow.

  They traveled swiftly, Eli as though to outrun the terrible revelations. Gaby’s shoes were unsuited to the terrain, but she remained silent and did her best to keep up with him, wondering how to help him deal with what must be shattering news. She was reeling herself, trying to put the pieces together in light of what Chad had said.