Abducted:Reconnaissance Team (Texas Rangers: Special Ops)

by Tarah Scott

  The voice cut in and surprise appeared on her face. “So you've seen the news. Yes, he’s the friend.” She halted and listened intently for another moment, then said, “Of course, I hadn't thought of that. I'm relieved we've only made the local news.” She paused, then, “Yes, sir, you've hit the nail on the head, but I don't want to put your other guests in an uncomfortable position. The idea is to keep a low profile.”

  He replied.

  Her brows rose. “I'm thankful you said that and not me, Senator. I would be accused of sexism.” The man's laughter sounded through the phone, and Liz said. “I can't thank you enough. Can I get your address?”

  In the light of the streetlight, Ben glimpsed Sheila Antonio’s name on the card as Liz flipped it over. Warning bells sounded in his head.

  Liz jotted down the address, then said, “We're on our way.”

  She tapped the screen to end the call and looked at him.

  “What did you just do?” he asked.

  “I got us a place to lay low.”

  “What has Sheila Antonio got to do with this?”

  Liz frowned.

  He added, “Isn’t that her business card?”

  Her expression cleared. “Oh yes. As it happens, she knows the senator, who’s a longtime friend of our family.”

  “It sounds like you and Sheila got chummy.”

  Liz regarded him and he realized his mistake.

  “I see,” she said slowly. “She knows you—Ben Hunter. That explains a lot. You and she have a history.”

  “Professional history,” he answered a little too quickly.

  Liz raised her brows. “She was draped over you as if she owned you.”

  “Doesn’t mean she does—or ever did. I told you, Sheila isn’t my type, so forget about her. Now, as for the senator, I think it's best—”

  “I’ve known Senator Pierson since I was twelve. If he assures me that there's no place safer in El Paso short of the police station, then he’s right.”

  Ben stared. “Ross the Boss Pierson?”

  She smiled. “I thought you might like him. Now we'd better get going.”

  “Hold on,” Ben said. “He saw the video on the news. Ross the Boss might be able to keep quiet, but what about his guests? You mentioned Iron Horse.”

  “He's one of the guests from their ’76 championship team.” She ticked off on her fingers, “Ross the quarterback, Iron Horse the running back, Legs Lipinski, the tight end, and the whole front line. The senator says they've been at the mansion the better part of the day, so probably haven't seen the news, and they're likely not interested in the local news anyway—his words, not mine. Had the video aired in ESPN, he said we might be in trouble.”

  Ben laughed. “He's probably right about that.”

  “Are you an Aggie fan?” Liz asked.

  “What Texan isn't?” he said. She dazzled him with a smile and Ben was struck with a thought. “I could easily have gotten us a hotel. Why go to the trouble of wrangling an invitation from the senator?”

  “A hotel clerk could recognize one of us,” she replied.

  “I have a few friends,” he said.

  She shrugged. “We need a break and I thought you might enjoy meeting Iron Horse.”

  “If it were any other time—”

  “It isn't any other time,” she interrupted. “And you're looking a gift horse in the mouth, Mr. Hunter.”

  Ben held her gaze for a moment, then turned and started the truck. “You'd better be careful, Ms. Monahan.”

  “Why?”

  He shifted the truck into reverse, backed out, then shifted into drive. “Because you're starting to like me.”

  Half an hour later, Ben and Liz entered the senator's home.

  “Senator Pierson,” she said, “meet Adam Billings.”

  The senator extended his hand and they shook.

  “Good to meet you, Senator. I'm a real fan.”

  The senator released his hand and winked at Liz. “A little flattery goes a long way. I ought to know.”

  “We appreciate your hospitality,” Liz said. “It's been a long twenty-four hours.”

  The senator's expression sobered. “So I gathered.” He shifted his attention to Ben. “The reports don't say why you two were running the border, but I assume you're law enforcement?”

  Ben nodded.

  He slapped Ben on the back. “Are you an Aggie fan, son?”

  “I am.”

  “Good, then come meet Iron Horse and Legs.”

  The senator led them to the largest den Ben had ever seen. A wet bar drew his attention to the left hand wall. Opposite were located an eighty-inch TV, a sound system and three leather sofas arranged in a semi-circle. What looked like highlights from the ’76 season played on the TV, but a 70’s disco song played on the sound system.

  And Sheila Antonio… Ben stopped, as did Liz, as Sheila turned and saw them. A shadow flitted across her face and Ben said, “I see a friend, Senator. Will you excuse me?”

  “Certainly. I’ll take Liz and introduce her around.”

  Ben nodded and did his best not to hurry toward Sheila. When they met halfway across the room, he smiled and said, “Ms. Antonio, you probably don’t remember me, Adam Billings. We met the other night at a party.”

  She smiled and extended a hand. He accepted, as she said, “Of course I remember. How are you, Mr. Billings?”

  Ben knew he could count on her to go along with the ruse. When it came to men, she was a man-eater, but it was people like her who took the law seriously and kept El Paso one of the safest metropolitan cities in the US.

  “Call me Adam,” he said.

  She angled her head. “Adam.” They strolled nonchalantly out of earshot of the two men standing nearby.

  “I didn’t expect to see you here,” he whispered.

  “Same here. I saw the news report. Does that relate to last night?”

  He nodded.

  Sheila sipped the drink she held. “How does Ms. Fashion fit in?”

  “I can’t go into it. Just remember, as far as you know, I’m a model.”

  She took another sip of her drink. “So what are you doing here tonight?”

  “Laying low.”

  “Do you need anything?”

  “No, but thanks. I better get back to the senator.”

  She nodded and he left.

  * * *

  Being from Dallas, Liz was a Dallas Cowboys fan. But her commitment to the team didn’t extend past hanging out with friends for a game or two during the season. Sheila Antonio, on the other hand, knew all the players, the stats, even the plays. She seemed to know as much as the players.

  Ben sat on the couch between her and one of the quarterbacks and a linebacker. He was clearly enjoying himself. Why not? He deserved a break. More than that, he needed a break. No one could run on adrenaline without eventually crashing—and making a mistake. Sheila Antonio seemed to put him at ease. He’d told Liz that he and Sheila had a professional history. Sheila took every opportunity to stay close to him. Ben didn’t seem to mind.

  He caught her looking at him and flashed a dazzling smile. Liz smiled back, but the pleasure didn’t reach her heart. She glimpsed concern in his expression, but Sheila said something to him, and he returned his attention to her. He smiled and Liz realized that was the same smile he’d just given her. Anger flashed, then died as quickly as it came. He was young, attractive, and unattached. He could smile at as many women as he wanted. But the admonition didn’t halt the memory of their afternoon interlude.

  The weight of his muscular body lying atop hers had felt better than she liked to admit. Better than it should have been. When he’d kissed her—she broke off the thought. Dwelling on those memories could—would—lead to trouble.

  Ben reached into his pocket, drew out his phone, and glanced at the display. He said something to Sheila and Liz tensed when he rose. His gaze caught hers and he gave a reassuring smile as he passed. He left the room and her anxiety ratcheted up
. The call had to be from his captain. She couldn’t just sit there and wait to find out what was going on. She rose, but knew she couldn’t follow him. It would be too conspicuous and he wouldn’t appreciate the intrusion.

  Liz meandered to the large window and gazed at the hills beyond the city. Behind her, the men argued over a play. She crossed to the food table. The senator had put out a spread worthy of a king. She and Ben had already eaten, but she needed something to do. Liz took a small plate and selected a couple of cookies. She turned and couldn’t help a glance at the door Ben had exited. The men in the room cheered. Some jumped to their feet and pumped their fists. Liz turned her attention to the big screen, but glanced at the door a moment later. What was taking so long?

  “I'm sure he'll return shortly.”

  Liz turned toward Sheila Antonio.

  “He’s always like this,” Sheila said.

  Liz bit into a cookie and lifted a questioning brow.

  “Secretive.”

  “It’s the nature of his business,” Liz said.

  “True, but he thrives on it.”

  He did.

  “You have reason for concern,” Sheila said.

  That was also true, but she hated Sheila pointing it out. What she hated worse was that she cared. The door opened and Ben entered. Liz noticed the curiosity in Sheila’s gaze and for an instant thought she would act upon that curiosity.

  Ben caught Liz’s eye and satisfaction surged through her when he seemed not to notice Sheila. It was stupid and petty—and there was no way it meant anything. But she was glad the gravity of their situation took precedence over a flirtation. Is that all it was, a flirtation?

  “Excuse me,” Liz said, and started toward him. “Everything all right?” she asked when she reached his side.

  “Yeah,” he said. “Let's step outside.” He opened the door and she preceded him out of the room. He shut the door behind him, then grasped her elbow and urged her a few paces from the door. “That was Captain Medina. The two agents assigned to protect you will be in Las Cruces early afternoon the day after tomorrow. Once they give the okay, we'll head over.”

  “You were on the phone for ten minutes. That's a sixty-second instruction. What else?”

  “Nothing that concerns you, Liz.”

  “Until Mr. Sanchez is in jail, all of this concerns me. What did he say about your altercation with Agent Masters?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing happened—or rather, they're not reporting it as an altercation. Emotions are high, they were concerned about not having you in protective custody. They're talking like it was nothing more than a heated discussion.”

  “That's not true,” she said.

  Ben shook his head. “It's better this way. We won't accomplish anything by forcing the matter.”

  “He pulled a gun on you,” she insisted.

  “Technically, he didn't.” Ben said.

  “You think I'm wrong? You think I didn't see him grab the gun?”

  Ben grasped her shoulders. “Relax. The fact the gun ended up on the floor means he had it out of his holster.”

  “Then we have to tell the truth.”

  “We've got bigger fish to fry. I have to keep you safe until we reach Las Cruces.”

  “Then you're going to Mexico?”

  “The plan hasn’t changed, Liz.”

  Fear lanced through her. “I don't like this.”

  He grinned. “Yep, you like me.”

  Embarrassed warmth washed over her.

  “I saw you looking at me.”

  “What—”

  “I know when a woman's looking at me, Ms. Monahan.”

  She suddenly became aware of his fingers grasping her shoulders, but narrowed her eyes. “You have a healthy ego, Mr. Hunter.”

  “Yep,” he replied.

  The door handled turned. Ben released her and stepped back as the door opened. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get back to the party.

  Liz marveled at how at ease Ben appeared to be. Anyone who didn’t know what he was hiding would believe he was completely engrossed in the party. He sat on the edge of the couch, attention fixed on the game playing on the seventy-inch TV. A member of the opposing team fumbled the ball and Ben leapt to his feet alongside another of the guests and whooped. Both men dropped back onto the couch, and Ben grabbed a chip from the platter on the long table in front of them, scooped up ranch dip and ate the chip in one bite.

  His gaze caught hers. He grinned, then stood and her pulse quickened when he headed toward her. Heat spread up her cheeks and she feared he would notice her embarrassment. He reached her chaise lounge near the sliding glass patio door and Liz tensed when she thought he intended to join her on the chaise. A corner of his mouth twitched as he grasped the straight back chair behind her, pulled it up alongside the couch, and sat down. She willed her heart to still when he leaned on the arm of the chaise.

  His attention returned to the TV as he said, “Enjoying the party, Ms. Monahan?”

  “I am,” she replied. “You seem to be having a good time.”

  “As good a time as can be had,” he looked at her, “in a group.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I should have fired you when I had the chance.”

  He laughed and Liz found herself torn between desire and affection. What would it be like to grow old with this man? What would he be like ten years from now…twenty? Like his father. No. She liked Brandon Hunter. He was a no-nonsense man. But Ben was warmer, less aloof...at least with her. The thought brought another wave of heat across her cheeks.

  “You’re thinking,” Ben said.

  Liz gave a half-smile. “There’s a lot to think about. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  His gaze turned speculative. “Yes, but the look on your face suggests your thoughts are personal in nature.”

  She glanced at the guests whose attentions were glued to the TV—even Sheila seemed not to notice them—then murmured, “There’s that healthy ego.”

  “I have eyes, Ms. Monahan,” he replied but, to her relief, returned his gaze to the TV and said, “You don’t seem interested in the game. Not your favorite teams?”

  “I like football,” she said. “Though I don’t know as much about the game as the rest of you.”

  “By ‘the rest of you,’ you mean Sheila Antonio.”

  Liz started at the astute response, and lifted her shoulders in what she fervently prayed was a nonchalant shrug. “She knows the game.”

  Their team intercepted a pass and Ben gave a shout of triumph in unison with several of the other men. Then he leaned toward her and said, “Knowledge of football isn’t a relationship requirement.” He looked at her, eyes stern. “I’m no boy, Liz. I know what I want.”

  “Ben—”

  “Is this the first time you’ve been to El Paso?” he asked.

  Liz hesitated. He’d purposely ended the conversation. That, she admitted, was the mature thing to do. So why, then, did she want to throttle him?

  “I make a trip here once a year for a small but significant fashion show.”

  “I’m surprised we haven’t run into each other before now.”

  She laughed. “This was your first modeling job, remember?”

  ”I’m not likely to forget. But we would have met one way or another.”

  “Don’t tell me you believe in fate.”

  “All the best moments are fate.” He groaned when the opposition made a touchdown, then asked, “Have you seen much of El Paso other than hotel rooms and fashion shows?”

  “No time.”

  “I need to take you to the National Border Patrol museum,” he said. “It’s small, but impressive. The memorial for the agents who lost their lives guarding our borders is something everyone should see.”

  “I believe you’re right,” she murmured.

  He looked at her, eyes intense.

  “Guarding our borders is an important job,” she said.

  Gratitude softened his features and Liz suddenly wondered h
ow she was going to leave him behind when all this was over.

  The clock hit ten past midnight and half the guests still remained at the party.

  “Where do you two plan to stay this evening?” the senator asked.

  Liz started to answer, but Ben said, “A hotel.”

  “Nonsense,” he said. “You'll stay here.”

  Liz glanced at Ben, then said, “You have a houseful as it is. We don't want to impose.”

  “Young lady, this house has six bedrooms, and a mother-in-law cottage a hundred feet from the main house. The cottage sleeps ten. I have Iron Horse and the offensive line in the cottage. My wife convinced Sheila to stay the night so they can go riding in the morning. That leaves four vacant bedrooms.”

  Before Ben could refuse, Liz said, “That’s very kind of you, Senator. We accept.”

  Half an hour later, the senator's maid showed Liz to a bedroom one door down from Ben’s guestroom. She stripped, turned on the shower, and stepped beneath the warm water. Ben hadn't said anything more about his plans to return to Mexico, but she had been unable to think of anything else. Try as she might, even the shower didn’t relax her. Liz dried, put on bra and panties, slipped between the sheets, turned off the bedside lamp, and listened for sounds of movement in Ben’s room. All was quiet. In the silence, she envisioned Ben emerging from a police car at the Juarez courthouse and being shot through the head before he reached the steps.

  Her mind rolled back to last night, to rough hands restraining her arms as the Mexican forced her into the Mercedes in the darkness outside the Remmeys’ mansion. Her heart rate kicked up. She snapped open her eyes and blinked in the bedroom’s darkness. Had it only been a day since this nightmare started? It seemed years ago and only moments ago all at once.

  Breathe, she told herself. She turned over and tried to concentrate on the luxuriously cool sheets. Instead, her stomach dipped with the sway of the car as if she and Ben once again raced over a hundred miles an hour to escape bullets that thwanged as they penetrated the car’s metal. What was wrong with her? She was safe, the danger past.

  That knowledge didn’t stop the clenching of her stomach in remembered fear.

  A tiny sound caused her to bolt upright and grab for the lamp. Liz fumbled the switch, but managed to twist it to the ON position and sat panting as if she’d just been pulled from the car after she and Ben crossed the border. Only, Ben wasn’t here to wrap her in protective warmth.