by Tarah Scott
Anger lashed through her. “They should have called us first. My God, his father must be frantic.”
“You’d better give Brandon a call, Hal.” R.W. tossed Hal the cordless.
Hall caught it, then turned and stepped a few paces away as he dialed. Liz tried Ben’s number again, but got only dead air.
“That’s right,” Hal said into the phone. He turned, made eye contact with them, and gave a slight shake of his head to indicate Brandon wasn’t happy.
“I agree, they should have called. But Ben’s all right.” A moment of silence passed and he said, “We’re fine here. Cell coverage is out, but that happens a lot out here. We’ll let you know if we need anything—or hear any news.” He hung up, then walked to R.W. and handed him the phone. “This is a perfect example of why I don’t like cell phones.”
R.W. laughed. “Why don’t I fix us a drink?” He crossed the room to the sideboard.
A flash of lightning brightened the well-lit room. Liz glanced out the patio window as two more quick lightning strikes illuminated the night sky over the mountains.
“That’s some storm,” Hal said.
She wasn’t usually worried by storms, but she didn’t like this one. It felt like an omen.
A roar of thunder caused her to jump. “That was loud enough to split the bedrock.”
R.W. laughed. “The day thunder splits this bedrock is the day we head underground. You got nothing to worry about. There’s nothing more solid than the Franklin Mountains.”
Lighting lit the sky. A moment later, a boom shook the windows. The lights flickered, then went dark. Liz tensed when the smoke detector in the hall chirped, leaving the pelting of rain the only sound in the room.
“Dammit,” R.W. said.
In the next instant, the room lit as the lights came back on.
“Maybe I’d better get the candles and flashlights I found in the pantry closet,” Hal said.
R.W. turned, two tumblers filled with amber liquid in hand. “What were you doing snooping?”
Hal shrugged. “When the storm started, I figured I’d better look for supplies just in case. I found the breaker box. A storm like this can flip a breaker. I put a flashlight on the mantle.” He nodded toward the fireplace.
“You’re a good man to have around,” R.W. said.
The room went dark again. They waited. This time, the lights didn’t come back on. The muffled tread of boots on carpet sounded. Someone banged into something and Liz recognized R.W.’s “Dammit.” A few seconds later, a flashlight beam lit the hearth. R.W. crossed to Liz and handed her one of the glasses he’d held earlier.
“The breaker box is in the back office upstairs,” Hal said. “I’ll take a look. Might take me a few minutes to figure out what’s what. First, I need a flashlight from the pantry. ”
“I’ll go with you.” R.W. flashed the beam on the couch before locating Liz. “You going to be okay until I get back?” he asked.
“Sure.” She just wished Ben would call back. He heart wanted to burst from her chest.
“Have that drink,” R.W. said, then the two men left and Liz sat alone in the darkness.
She leaned back against the couch and looked at her phone. One bar. That was enough to make a call. She tried Ben’s number again. This time it rang and she straightened, pressing the phone to her ear. Two rings in, the call dropped. Liz looked at the screen.
“Relax,” she told herself. It’s the storm. He called. He’s okay.”
The flashlight beam entered the room, followed by R.W. “Did you have that drink, Liz?”
A pounding at the front door caused her to start. She jumped to her feet. “That must be Ben.”
“Maybe,” R.W. said. “You stay here until I find out.” He crossed to the corner and Liz set the drink on the coffee table, then came to her feet as he picked up the shotgun he’d placed there earlier.
“Are you worried?” she asked.
“Cautious. You stay here.”
“Carlos Sanchez wouldn’t knock,” she said.
“Probably not,” he said, and disappeared into the hallway.
Lightning flashed enough to brighten the room for an instant and she froze with the irrational fear that she could be seen. The room went dark again and the heat of embarrassment crept up her cheeks. She was acting like a kid.
More pounding on the front door. Liz started forward and ran her shin into the coffee table. She winced with pain, then carefully navigated in a limp around the table and armchair. Thunder rolled, then died and she caught muffled voices in the hallway. Liz reached the hallway and edged forward, feeling her way along the wall. The voices grew louder and as she reached the bend she recognized Agent Masters’ voice.
“Out of the way, Hunter,” he said.
Liz stopped and peered around the corner. R.W. held his flashlight beam in Agent Masters’ face.
“How did you find out where we were?” R.W. demanded.
“That’s none of your business,” Masters said.
“We don’t want any trouble,” Agent Braxton said. “We’re here to take Ms. Monahan into protective custody.”
“She’s in protective custody,” R.W. shot back. “Our custody.”
Liz caught the menacing note in R.W.’s voice and glanced at the shotgun he held. The barrel pointed at the floor, but she would bet he could have it pointing at the men in a New York second. R.W. might not like Ben being a Ranger, but he was taking seriously Ben’s order to protect her.
“Mr. Hunter,” Braxton began.
Liz stepped into their line of sight and Braxton broke off.
R.W. shifted his gaze in her direction. “Liz, you get back in the other room.”
She hurried to them. Masters took a step toward her.
“Stay where you are,” R.W. warned.
Liz reached them as lightning brightened the sky behind the two agents. Rain pelted the pavement beyond the covered porch and she welcomed the balmy air that whipped across her face.
“It’s all right, R.W.” She looked at the two men. “Did Ben send you?”
R.W. snorted in disgust. “Ben wouldn’t send these two.”
“If we could speak to you.” Agent Braxton stepped up beside his partner. “Alone.”
“She doesn’t have to talk to you,” R.W. said.
“It’s all right, R.W.,” Liz said. “There’s no reason I can’t talk to them.” She wanted very much to know how they’d found her.
“Why don’t you step outside on the porch?” Braxton said.
R.W. shook his head. “She’s not going outside.”
Liz had to agree with that. “You gentlemen can come inside.”
“No,” R.W. cut her off. “They can talk to you just fine right here, and I’m not going anywhere.”
“You can stay, R.W.—but you keep quiet, or I go outside.”
He shrugged. “You’re a big girl. You can speak for yourself.”
“Keep that in mind when you hear something you don’t like.” More wind gusted in, driving rain and whipping her hair across her face. Liz looked at the two agents. “You wanted to talk. Talk.”
“Carlos Sanchez is in El Paso,” Agent Masters said. “Looking for you.”
“My understanding is that he plans to enter Texas via the Onate Crossing,” Liz said.
Agent Braxton’s brows rose in surprise. “That’s right. But until we catch him, we have to assume he made it into Texas.”
She hadn’t considered that. “He can’t know where I am.”
“We found you,” Agent Braxton said.
“How—” Liz narrowed her eyes. “Ben didn’t send you. You tapped my phone.”
“Ms. Monahan, please understand, we only did it for your safety.”
“Oh yeah, you’re from the government and you’re here to help, but what you mean is you have to keep me alive so I can testify against Sanchez.”
“Look, Ms. Monahan,” he said, “Liz, we take kidnapping and human trafficking very seriously. We also take mu
rder seriously, and that’s how you’ll end up if we don’t take every precaution. Bottom line, the only way you’ll be safe is if he’s behind bars. We intend to see that you stay alive to make that happen.”
“It’s a win/win for everyone,” Agent Masters said.
“Where’s Ben?” she demanded.
“He’s supposed to be in the hospital waiting for Sanchez’s man to make a move,” Braxton said.
“Supposed to be,” Liz repeated. “But we both know he’s not.” That’s why he’d called her, to tell her he wasn’t at the hospital. Did he know Sanchez was in El Paso? Fear caused her heart to speed up. If he didn’t know, that put him in greater danger. She had to reach him.
“The last report to us said he was there,” Braxton replied.
“You’re a very convincing liar, Agent Braxton. I’ll wait until Ben returns, then, if he thinks its best I go with you, I will.”
Agent Masters took a step toward her. “Do you want us to place you under arrest? We can do that.”
“You can try,” R.W. said in a conversational tone.
“Hush, R.W..” Liz pinned the agents with a stare. “Then what? You going to keep me under arrest until Mr. Sanchez goes to trial?”
“If necessary,” Masters said.
“Let’s slow things down,” Braxton said. “Ms. Monahan, we can arrest you, but we would rather you came willingly. Ranger Hunter’s family isn’t going to take lightly us hauling you out of here in the middle of a storm, and we’d rather not do that. You’re compromised. We need to get you to a place where you have no contact with anyone until you testify. Have you ever been to Boston?”
Boston? No contact with anyone until she testified? No work, no friends...no Ben. She couldn’t imagine it. “You’re overreacting. This could be over tonight.”
“And if it is, we will release you and be glad for it,” Braxton said. “But even if Ranger Hunter catches Sanchez, there’s still the trial. Even if Sanchez is held without bail, he can contract a hit. You’re going to have to go somewhere safe. Now is the time.”
She started to shake her head, but Masters said, “Do you want more girls to be sold into slavery? Do you want the Remmeys killed, or worse? Sanchez won’t stop at killing Hunter. He’ll get you and the Remmeys, their granddaughter and everyone else involved in this case.”
“Ben will catch him,” R.W. said. Liz looked sharply at him and he shrugged. “Like I said, the boy is good at his job.”
She nodded agreement, but fear twisted her stomach.
“He’ll be all right,” R.W. said, clearly reading her thoughts.
She nodded, but wasn’t so sure. When all was said and done, this was all her fault. If she hadn’t sneaked around the Remmey’s mansion Ben wouldn’t have had to save her and none of this would have happened.
“Tell you what,” Braxton said, “how about Agent Masters and I hang out here for a little while? The storm is kicking up pretty good. You can take a few minutes to consider and we’ll see if the rain lets up. You’ll have to talk your bodyguard into not killing us. Do you think you can do that?”
She nodded. “Of course.” She’d try calling Ben again, maybe reach him before the storm let up.
“I’m going to grab my phone from the car,” Agent Braxton said. “Then maybe we can sit and talk. I’m sure you’ve got questions.”
“All right. But I’m not making any promises,” Liz said, despite the doubt that chipped away at her resolve.
The agent turned and ran into the rain.
“You sure about this, Liz?” R.W. asked. “They can sit in the car while you take your time figuring out how to tell them to go to hell.”
A car door slammed shut and headlights abruptly cut a swath across their legs.
“Damn rental,” Agent Masters muttered. “The headlights automatically turn on when you get into the car.”
One of the headlights went dark in unison with the tinkle of breaking glass.
“Goddamn,” R.W. cursed in unison with Masters’ “Get down!”
The agent tackled her. She hit the floor with him on top of her as a succession of thwangs bit into wood and wall near her. R.W. threw himself against the wall beside the door. Masters rolled with Liz to the side, away from the door, then shoved to his feet, pulling her up with him. Her mind registered his cologne, High Karate, and the smarting ache in her shoulder. The remaining headlight beam cut off and they were plunged into darkness.
“Stay back,” Masters ordered, and shoved her against the wall to his right. R.W. was pressed against the wall to his left. Her heart thundered.
“The driver’s side door is open,” R.W. whispered. “Maybe your partner made it out of the car and into the bushes.”
“Get out of the way,” the agent ordered.
R.W. scooted around him and Masters slid closer to the door. “Jason,” he called in a loud whisper. No one answered. “Is there another way out of the house?” Masters’ demanded in a whisper.
“A back door off the kitchen and a sliding glass door off the den,” R.W. replied.
“We’re on the top of a damn mountain,” Masters muttered. “We go out there and we’ll be even bigger targets than we are in here. You have some place you can hide her in the house?”
“What—” Liz began. Her phone rang.
She grabbed the phone from her back pocket and looked at the screen. The word private blinked. Liz tapped the ignore button and stuffed the phone back into her pocket. Lightning flashed and she glimpsed Masters, gun held at shoulder level, barrel pointed skyward as he yanked his head back around the doorjamb.
Masters cursed. “Let’s get her to safety, then we’ll search the house.”
“What about Agent Braxton?” Liz said.
He hesitated. “You’re the priority.”
She discerned movement and, an instant later, the door clicked shut, then locked.
R.W. grasped her arm. “Here.” He thrust the flashlight into her hand. “Hold onto this.” He shifted and she realized he had one hand on the wall as he started forward in the darkness. After ten steps, they made a left turn and started upstairs. Agent Masters followed so close behind she could feel the heat from his body.
They reached the second floor and after half a dozen steps, R.W. stopped and shoved her against the wall.
“Here,” he whispered. The next instant, a door creaked before he said, “Come on.”
The agent grasped her shoulder and gently pushed. Liz felt her way along the wall and around the doorjamb into a room. A hand on her arm caused her to jump before she realized it was R.W.. He pulled her and Agent Masters forward, then opened another door and urged her inside.
“Keep the flashlight,” he said. “And this.” He groped her arm, then grasped her hand, lifted it, and wrapped her fingers around the cold steel of a gun. “You ever shot before?”
“What the hell are you doing?” Masters snapped.
“Giving her protection. You ever shot before, Liz?” R.W. repeated.
“Sure. My dad taught me, and I used to shoot with my husband.”
She felt as much as heard the slight pause, and ire rose to the surface. She knew what he was thinking but wasn’t going to correct the thoughts—or answer the questions.
“That’s the safety.” He placed her thumb on the switch. “It’s on. You see anyone other than us boys, you shoot first and ask questions later. You stay here until I come for you. I don’t come, you don’t move until the police show up. Now burrow back behind those clothes.” He eased her back until her shoulders came into contact with hanging clothes.
Liz wanted to do anything except hide, but knew she couldn’t endanger these men’s lives like she had Ben’s when she stumbled into his investigation.
Chapter Thirty-One
Ben turned the sharp curve on the mountain road, then slowed when the silhouette of the darkened house came into view a hundred feet ahead. Lights had shone in the houses on the hill as he’d driven up. Had the storm knocked out the electricity
in seconds it’d taken to navigate the turn? Lightning flashed and he glimpsed a car parked in front of the house—and the open driver’s side door. He cut off his headlights and slowed. Rain pelted the car with thick drops that made it almost impossible to see even with the wipers on full blast.
He pulled the SUV over and switched off the engine. He couldn’t distinguish the car in the rain and dark, but he hadn’t recognized it during the lightning flash. Sanchez wasn’t likely to park out front. It had to be the FBI. They were dumb enough to be so obvious. But how had they found Liz?
Ben stuffed the phone in his back pocket, then grabbed the small flashlight stored in the glove box. He reached beneath the seat and found the Rugar hidden under the seat, then paused. They often kept a Bullpup in the back of all Ranger vehicles. Might he need the rifle? Lightning zig zagged in the distance and the sky brightened for an instant—and Ben decided on the Bullpup. He shoved the pistol into his waistband, then pulled up on the door handle. His shoulder protested with a sharp pain that lanced down his arm and back. Ben gritted his teeth and slipped out of the car. Seconds later, he slung the rifle over his shoulder as thunder roared.
Rain slapped his face in stinging drops. He threw an arm in front of his face to shield his eyes and crept up the graveled driveway toward the abandoned car. Thunder rolled and Ben cursed another burst of lightning that lit the yard like daylight. He reached the car. No interior light burned. Like him, someone had turned it off. Definitely FBI. As expected, the car was deserted.
Lightning flashed again and Ben ducked down beside the car. Poised, he counted twelve seconds to the next clap of thunder then shoved into a run. A wave of dizziness slowed him as he neared the house and he veered left before righting himself. He reached the front porch and flattened himself against the wall near the door, breathing harder than he liked.
Carefully he grasped the doorknob and pressed down. Locked. That was better than a deserted car and an open door. He leaned his head against the wood paneling of the house and took a slow, deep breath in an effort to slow his heart. He pulled his phone from his back pocket and tried R.W.’s number. This time, the phone rang, but went to voicemail after three rings. The storm had to be interfering with the signal. He put the phone back in his pocket.
