Sam fell back on his ass when the phone was slapped out of his hand. He turned to the intruder only to be kicked in the face with a lug soled boot.
“Fuck! Not again,” he mumbled as he fell back into the river with a splash.
“Fish him out and find out who he was talking to, then kill him.”
Sam awoke to someone punching him in the face. His head was pounding and his lungs hurt. He tried to raise his hands to ward off the blows, but he found they were tied behind his back.
“Well, Sleeping Beauty has decided to join us. Lucky for you the boss wants to speak to you.”
Sam lifted his head, dizzy for a moment. He blinked and tried to focus. When his vision finally cleared, he half wished he’d kept his eyes shut. A huge man with dark stringy hair, even darker eyes, smiled down at him. His breath was rank and so was his body odor. The long black beard had particles of food clinging to it. His smile revealed several rotting teeth while his filthy, sweat stained shirt proclaimed him “King of the Bear Whiz Beer Belly Contest.” Eyeing the wiggling patch of tattooed belly peeking out from the too small shirt, Sam had to agree with the declaration.
Perfect.
Big and Ugly punched him again. “Just to bring some color to your cheeks, pretty boy.” He laughed at his joke then sauntered over to a table cluttered with beer bottles and what looked to be the remains of several meals. He picked up a bottle and drank greedily, sloshing the contents all over himself and his clothes.
Sam turned away in disgust. He looked around the room, hoping for something to help him escape. His stomach curled with dread. He seemed to be in a storeroom but he had no idea where. Crates and barrels were stacked haphazardly against the grimy wall. A few broken bar stools leaned drunkenly against an old pinball machine. The lone light bulb gave off the only illumination and confirmed that the only weapons available were on the table six feet away.
But what scared him the most was the sounds coming from the shadows in the storeroom.
“Hey, pretty boy, I was talking to you,” Big and Ugly slammed the empty beer bottle against Sam’s skull. Pain exploded in his head, but he had seen the arc of the bottle out of his peripheral vision. He managed to close his eyes and turn away from the worst of it. Otherwise the glass could have damaged his eye. As it was, a shard sliced through his eyelid, sending blood pouring down his face.
“Next time, don’t take so long to answer. Or has the ketamine left you a little woozy?” he cackled.
Well, that explained the lack of memory, Sam thought. By the sounds coming from the recesses of the room, he knew why they had the tranquilizer. But why the hell did they have animals?
“So you’re going to tell me who you were talking to when my boss arrived. Then you’re going to tell me how much you know about our little operation. If you sing real pretty, I might kill you quick.” He laughed uproariously at his own joke.
Sam stared at the obscene man before him. He knew Big and Ugly was going to make it painful. He’d seen the same kind of sadistic bastards all over the world. He’d happily killed a few. It sounded like this guy didn’t know who he was dealing with and that would buy him some time to work on the rope knots holding his arms.
He started fabricating a story. “I was at the strip club by the casino this evening, and I heard some guys talking about the Conservation hut. There’s been trouble in Grafton. Some guy’s trying to burn out the construction company there. I went down to check it out.”
“You a cop?” Big and Ugly growled.
“Hell, no!” Sam smirked. “The cops haven’t caught the arsonist yet. I thought if he was at the hut, then maybe I could cut a deal with him. Help him in return for some quick cash. Heard they caught his accomplice. If he said no, I could turn him in and grab the reward.”
Big and Ugly sat down on the only unbroken chair, eyeing Sam with a baleful gaze. Sam matched his stare knowing he couldn’t show fear or his lie wouldn’t be believed.
“Still doesn’t tell me who you are.” He watched as Big and Ugly’s shoulders began to shake, a smile breaking out on his face. Seconds later, he exploded in laughter. “Boy, you’re no cop. You’re a con. And you just jumped from the frying pan into the fire.”
Sam’s mouth went dry. “Drugs?”
Big and Ugly chuckled. “Heroin, Cocaine, Rare and exotic animals. Our clients pay big bucks for the unique and unusual.” An angry growl rent the air and they both turned at the sound. “Especially the deadly ones,” He grinned. “Ever seen a tiger fight while hopped up on coke? That’s some crazy shit, man.”
“So you sell the animals and the drugs to go with it?”
“Sometimes. But we got more call for drugs than pussycats,” Big & Ugly grinned. “So we bring the drugs in the cages and food stores for the animals. False bottoms and no one wants to get too close to them, if you see what I mean. So boss gets transport up the river from New Orleans on the barges. We unload in Alton and disperse using the Conservation huts, the ferry, and sometimes, the lovely scenic byway.” He waved his arm to encompass the area.
“You’ve got yourselves a wildlife refuge just up the bluffs there and most IDOC Rangers think they’re heading up there. We falsify the packing info and, if we’re caught, you’re friends up at the Reserve are going to have a lot of explaining to do.” His chair squeaked across the floor as he got up. “But we hardly ever get caught. Do you want to know why?”
Sam knew. He understood as soon as the guy started with the explanation. He wasn’t going to make it out alive. God, how he wished he’d stayed home with Angel.
The door opened and a nondescript man in black stepped in, “Boss wants to see you. Something about one of the girls.”
“Probably wants me to arrange a meeting,” he addressed Sam with a wink. “It seems that after I get finished with ‘em, they’re only too happy to fall in with the boss. I like to soften ‘em up a bit.” He punched Sam in the stomach, doubling him over. “Don’t worry. I won’t forget about you.” He walked out. Sam heard the lock slide home.
Sam hoped the girl got out alive, but he had bigger problems. The rattling in the cages was getting more aggressive. He calculated that the distance between him and the many eyes peeking at him through the shadows was definitely not enough. A large mass, probably a lion from the sounds of the roars, was banging his ass against the crate. Sam wasn’t going to wait around and see if he made it out. Getting out of here without being eaten alive had become his number one priority.
He began to frantically work on the knots behind his back. His arms were killing him, but he forced his fingers to work through the knots. He had the strongest fingers of the brothers. “Milk Your Mouse” was a game they played as kids, grabbing hands and pushing fingers into palms. He could take his older brothers to their knees in seconds. He felt the knot slip and smiled. Thank God, his brothers had loved to torment him, and he had learned to fight back.
Chapter Eight
Angel was half-asleep when a pounding on the front door startled her. She shook her head slightly to clear it and slid off the chair, tripping over the empty wine bottle. Picking it up, she walked into the foyer and glanced out the oval door window to see who her impatient visitor was, but it was blocked by a large body.
“Who is it?” she called out as she cocked the gun. Since the intruder, Sam had drilled into her to be especially careful.
“It’s Mac and Chance. Is Sam here?”
Angel was profoundly grateful she had slipped out of her corset and into yoga pants and a t-shirt. She clicked on the safety and unlocked the front door to admit the men.
“He’s not here. I thought he was meeting you.” She put a hand to her forehead trying to banish her sleep and remember what Sam said before he left.
“Shit!” Chance grabbed the gun from her hand. “Give me that.”
He looked at Mac. “I should have known he would go off on his own.” He started out the door again, but Mac waylaid him with a hand on his arm.
“Maybe Angel can he
lp. Would you try to recall if Sam said anything about where he was going? While you’re doing that, I’m going to call Ben and the rest of the family.”
While Mac went to call the others, Angel confronted Chance. “What’s going on? Why aren’t you with Sam?”
“We don’t know what to think. Jax said he called Sam here at six forty-five, telling him about a conversation he overheard at a strip club in Alton.”
“Yes,” Angel nodded. “Something to do with a Conservation hut here.”
“Yeah, well, Sam was supposed to call Mac and Ben, but as usual, he went off like Rambo on a rampage and now we can’t find him. The shack’s locked up tighter than a python’s hug, and Sam is nowhere to be found.” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair.
Angel jumped when Mac came up behind her. “Ben and the rest of the family are on their way. I hope you don’t mind. I told them to meet us here. It would save time.”
But nothing would save Sam if he had fallen in the river. Angel cringed as that thought flashed across her mind. “I think I’ll go put on some coffee.” She skirted around the men and headed for the kitchen.
It took her three attempts to measure the grounds and pour the water into the machine. Her hands were shaking so badly, she scattered the grounds across the counter. Grabbing a cloth, she wiped up the mess. “Calm yourself down, Angel. Mac and Chance do not need a hysterical female on their hands,” she mumbled. She needed a clear head if she was going to help find Sam. She reached for the aspirin.
She heard the front door open as she was grabbing a tray and cups. She placed the coffee in the center and headed down the hall into the living room. Everyone had arrived. Hank and Ginny were asking for explanations. Dixie was walking in the door with Brandon and Nick. Ben finished his call as she handed him a cup of the steaming brew.
“What’s going on, Mac?” Hank Coalson asked as he took a sip of coffee. Chance gave him their explanation. Angel tried to remain calm while he filled them in, but she couldn’t just stand here and do nothing. “If you got your information from someone at a strip club, let’s go down there. Maybe we can find someone who knows something.” She headed for the door, grabbing her coat off the stand.
“Whoa there, Angel. That is not the kind of place you can just walk into. They’d eat you alive. It’s a strip club, honey. The women there are strippers, hookers, or worse.” Chance grabbed her arm.
Ben raised his hands for quiet. “Hold on, folks. I just talked to one of our informants at the bar. He said that two of our suspects were seen carrying a man between them into the back storeroom. The man looked half-drowned, but from what he could see, he fit the description of Sam. I’ve got everyone on alert down there.”
He scowled at the brothers. “Now on top of everything else, I have to figure out how to rescue Sam without blowing our operation. Just what in the hell was he doing down there anyway?”
“One of Sam’s SEAL buddies overheard some talk about something going down in Grafton. He thought it might have something to do with our trouble, so Sam went to check it out. That’s the last anyone has heard from him.”
Angel nodded. “He got the call and left. I called Chance to let him know.”
Mac took the story from there. “I noticed the voicemail from Sam about a half hour ago. I headed over to the shack. Nothing there but a lot of muddy tire tracks.”
“It never occurred to you to call the police? Contrary to popular belief, we do a bit more than fill out forms, eat donuts and drink coffee,” he said as he raised his mug for a drink. Realizing his error, he sat the mug down on the table with a thump.
“Just exactly what is Sam involved in, Ben?” Hank asked.
“Sam has stumbled onto an international smuggling operation thriving along the Mississippi. Smugglers are bringing in rare and exotic animals, everything from fish to leopards, by way of barge, up from New Orleans. They’re selling them to fences across the country. Grafton is just one of the stops, according to our sources.”
He looked over at the stunned crowd. “It gets worse. We believe they are smuggling drugs as well, in the cages or somewhere. I’ve been working with the FBI and the Department of Conservation on a sting operation to put these guys away,” he said. “At least until Sam dropped in and bungled the job.”
“Why in the hell would they pick Grafton?” Hank mumbled then looked at Ben as a thought occurred. “Not Jerry? His refuge is small and he’s always in need of funds, but I don’t see him doing something like this, do you?” Jerry Counts owned Heaven’s Gate, a wildlife refuge a few miles from Grafton.
“No. Jerry was the one that brought it to our attention. He’d been to Mexico on some damn bird saving mission and heard talk of how smugglers were using animals in pit fights, hopping them up on drugs and letting them fight to the death. He was so enraged, he almost got himself killed. When he got back home, he made sure the Department of Conservation knew about it and we contacted the Feds to work together.”
Ben’s phone rang and he left the room to answer it.
Everyone looked at each other, completely stunned. Smuggling in Grafton? It seemed ludicrous. With the exception of the vandalism, nothing had ever happened around here. Now apparently, Grafton had become a den for drugs. Plenty of abandoned buildings to meet in. The river as a mode of transportation. And few police for a wide area. Someone had done their homework. The feeling of safety, away from the high crime of the larger cities had been shattered. Their sleepy town had been invaded.
Ben came back in the room. “That was one of the men from the FBI. Since Sam screwed up the earlier deal, our men have rescheduled for midnight. Not at the hut, at the bar. They say if they can get Sam out before then, fine…if not, he’ll have to take his chances with the bad guys. This thing is too big for them to risk losing it all now. Fuck! Oh, sorry, ladies” Ben ran a hand over his bald head. “Why the hell can’t that boy stay out of trouble?”
Mac was furious. “This is Sam’s life we’re talking about. What the hell do they mean ‘let him take his chances’? It’s their job to protect citizens.”
“Not if they officially don’t know he’s there. If he had informed us sooner, something could have been done. Now he’s simply listed as missing, but if I involve him officially, they could consider him an accessory because he screwed up the first deal.”
“That’s ridiculous!” Chance exploded.
“Calm down! Chance, sit down!” Ginny Coalson barked out the orders as she stood up to confront Ben. “Since the FBI isn’t sure where to put Sam in all this mess and since we’ve less than two hours to get him out of there, I suggest we quit arguing and start thinking. Any suggestions?”
“Now wait a minute, Ginny. I can’t let you go barging in there making a mess of things. That could get Sam killed,” Ben said bluntly.
“We are likely the only chance Sam has of getting out of this alive, and you know it, Ben. I suggest you get down to wherever you need to go and let us figure this out.” Hank said quietly as he stood behind his wife.
“Now, folks, I can’t let you interfere in this investigation. Officially I’d have to arrest you.”
“Not if you don’t know what we’re planning, so I guess you better leave. We don’t want you to know anything that might cause you to ‘officially’ put us under arrest.” Ginny stared at Ben until a blush ruddied his cheeks.
“I can’t allow you to do this,” Ben tried to reason with the rest of them.
“Do what?” Brandon said as Nick ushered Ben to the door. “We’re having a family get together. You can’t arrest us for that.”
Ben started blustering but Nick cut him off. “You don’t have anything to arrest us for, so go home, Ben.” Nick slammed the door in his face.
“Dammit! If I didn’t love you boys like my own children, I’d have you all thrown in jail for a week. And that includes you women, too. Do you hear me, Ginny?” Ben hollered through the door. “I see any of you there, I’ll tell the Feds to arrest you. You understand me?”
Everyone ignored the noise on the porch as they sat down in the living room. Brandon took control. “Now, let’s get down to business. Anyone have any suggestions on how to save Sam?”
“I think I have an idea,” Angel whispered. She outlined her plan and when she finished, they nodded in agreement. It was simple. It could work. But it was going to take a helluva lot of courage on her part.
Mac warned Angel. ‘Honey, Sam may hate you for what you’re about to do. I don’t know if I could forgive Dixie, if she were to…,” he trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. “We can try to protect you, but some men don’t like to take ‘no’ for an answer and until a bouncer gets to them, well…”
“I’m sure Sam will know she did it for him,” Dixie defended Angel. “And maybe she won’t have to go that far…”
“Either way, it doesn’t matter,” Angel replied quietly. “He might hate me, but he’d be alive to do it. I could stand it. I’ve withstood it for the past fifteen years. But I know I can’t stand the thought of never seeing him again, knowing I could have done something to help him.”
She took a deep breath, then stood up, slapping her hands on her pants. “If we’re all in agreement, let me gather some stuff I think I’ll need and then you guys can fill me in on exactly what goes on in a strip joint. If I’m going to act like a decoy while you rescue Sam, I’m going to have to act like I know what I’m doing.”
“Yes,” Dixie smirked and crossed her arms as she leaned back in her chair. “Do tell.”
At the thought of telling the women some of the stuff that goes on in a strip club, the men actually blushed. If Sam came out of this alive, they were all going to have a helluva lot of explaining to do.
Leather and Lace (Tempered Steel Book 2) Page 8
