Abducted:Reconnaissance Team (Texas Rangers: Special Ops)

by Tarah Scott

  Ben rolled again, this time in control, first slamming his rifle on the ground, then rolling over it, shouldering the pain, centering the flashlight in his vision. The earless man collapsed into Sanchez’s legs. Sanchez fired again. A wild shot. The recoil jerked his aim toward Liz. His balance wavered as the other man slumped.

  Ben rolled to a kneeling position. Taking the hip shot, the flashlight went airborne. Ben squeezed off another shot. Sanchez went down.

  * * *

  Liz realized the screams she heard were hers. Soaking wet with rain and mud, she tried to rise, but her legs gave way as if made of rubber. Strong hands grasped her shoulders and pulled her up. She fell against Ben and he wrapped her in his arms, solid and warm, a wall of protection.

  “It’s okay, honey.” He hugged her tighter. “You’re all right.”

  Was she really all right?

  Ben had shot Sanchez. But was it over? In bad movies, the villain kept coming back and coming back. Liz shook her head, her face pressed against Ben’s chest. It wasn’t all right. It would never be all right.

  “Shh,” Ben soothed, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

  Rain continued to beat down on them. Tears began to fall and she didn’t think they would ever stop. She tasted salt. Then Ben hugged her close against his uninjured shoulder.

  “What happened?” a male voice said.

  “Braxton?” Ben said. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “He’s helping me.” Hal rose from his squat beside Sanchez and Liz cried harder. Hal was alive. “He won’t be bothering us anymore,” Hal said over the rain.

  Ben guided Liz toward the house. “We’re taking shelter,” he said. “Braxton, grab that flashlight and come inside. You too, Hal.”

  Liz didn’t think she breathed until the rain cut off and Ben was urging her to sit. She tightened her arms around his neck, but she then caught sight of a flashlight beam and the man holding the flashlight. Embarrassment heated her cheeks. She sat settled on the couch. Something banged her hip and she realized with a start that Ben had a rifle slung over his back and she had bumped the butt.

  Liz checked her waistband. She’d buttoned up her jeans without realizing it. Was it her imagination or could she still feel her attacker’s fingers clawing at her panties?

  Ben sat down beside her. “You’re safe, Liz.” He twisted and looked at Agent Braxton. “There’s a hurricane lamp in the kitchen pantry closet.”

  “I know where it is,” Hal said. They left and the room went dark.

  Ben’s arm encircled her. “Are you all right?” he asked her.

  She wasn’t, not really, but she knew what he meant, and said “Yes,” despite the tremor working its way through her body.

  “Where’s R.W.?” The quiet words belied the concern evident in his voice.

  “Oh, Ben.” Liz began to cry. “Mr. Sanchez had R.W.”

  “Where?” Ben demanded.

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. He—Sanchez—called me while I was hiding. R.W. and Agent Masters hid me in a closet upstairs. Mr. Sanchez called me.” She was babbling, but couldn’t seem to stop.

  “How did he get your number?” Ben asked.

  “I don’t know. But he had R.W.. I heard him in the background when Mr. Sanchez called. The American and the other man found me. They knew I was hiding in the upstairs closet. How is that possible?”

  “I don’t know,” Ben replied.

  “They took me outside, then you came.”

  “You have no clue where they took R.W.?” Ben asked. “Probably somewhere outside the house,” he said before she could reply. “If they had him inside they wouldn’t have gotten you outside. And they couldn’t have him in a car. I would have seen it. Where’s Masters?”

  “The last I saw of him was when he and R.W. hid me in the closet. Someone was shooting at us. Agent Braxton went to the car and they shot out a headlight. Hal went to check the fuse box upstairs.”

  Ben shifted, then his cell phone lit up in his hand. “No bars,” he muttered. “What about the land line?”

  “It’s on a modem,” she said. “It’s out with the electricity.”

  He shifted again and she realized he was straining to see something in the direction the men had disappeared. He wanted to go and look for R.W.

  “Go look for them,” she said. “I’ll be okay.” Though the thought of being alone in the dark started her insides trembling again.

  “You’re trembling.” He pulled her tight against him. “I’ll look for the boys as soon as Hal and Braxton get back.”

  His cold, soaked shirt pressed against her chest where her shirt lay open, and she shivered. “Is he really dead?” she asked.

  “Two bullets to the heart. You’ve got your life back, Liz.”

  Did she? What did her life consist of now?

  Behind Ben, in the hallway, light crept toward them, then Agent Braxton and Hal appeared in the doorway. Ben released her as they approached. Hal set the lamp on an end table and Ben’s gaze locked onto her bared chest.

  His eyes yanked up to her face. “What happened?”

  “I’m all right.” Her teeth began to chatter. “The American—”

  Ben seized her shoulders. “The American what?”

  She began to shake. “Nothing happened. No time. I—” She felt cold. So cold.

  “You what?” Ben demanded.

  “I pulled off his ear.”

  Ben blinked. ”That’s what he was saying?”

  “It’s laying out there in the rain,” she said through chattering teeth.

  “She’s going into shock,” Ben said. “Hand me the afghan from the chair near the window.”

  A moment later, Agent Braxton draped the afghan around her shoulders.

  “You’ve got to get out of this wet shirt, Liz.” He pulled the sleeve from her left arm, then wrapped the blanket around that arm, then did the same with the other arm and snugged the afghan tight around her.

  “Better?” he asked.

  She nodded, then she cried, “You’re bleeding.”

  “It’s just the stitches I got earlier. They pulled free.”

  “You’re not—”

  “No,” he cut in. “I’m not hurt.”

  “Don’t move.” He rose and stepped away with Agent Braxton and Hal. “Want to give me the run down?” Ben said to them.

  They filled him in, and Liz learned that the agent had been wounded, though not seriously, and lost consciousness. He awoke and encountered Hal outside after Hal discovered the house was empty and began to search outside. Neither had no idea where Agent Masters or R.W. were. Liz realized she was crying again. Ben reached her side an instant later.

  “Shh, honey.” He pulled her close and she couldn’t halt the flood that followed.

  “Can you get backup?” Ben asked the agent.

  “No signal. You got this?” he asked. “I’m going to start searching for my partner and your cousin.”

  “Yeah,” Ben said. “I’ll keep trying to make contact with headquarters. Hal, give him a hand.”

  They left and she was alone with Ben.

  He held her close and her heart began to slow in rhythm with the beat of his heart.

  “I’m sorry, Liz,” he finally said. “I don’t know how Sanchez found you. I didn’t think—”

  “No more sorrys,” she cut in. “You were right. He was determined to end our lives. He was a maniac. It’s over. I hope R.W.—” Her voice broke.

  “Don’t give up on R.W.,” Ben said. “Like I said, he’s tough.”

  Bootfalls in the hallway caused Liz to jump. Ben grasped his rifle as the beam of a flashlight came into view.

  Ben stood. “R.W.?”

  “Who else?” R.W. replied, and Liz began to cry again.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Ben stared at Medina in shock. “Me? My phone call to Liz is how Sanchez discovered her location?”

  “That’s right,” Masters said before the captain could reply. />
  “Will--” Braxton began, but Medina interrupted.

  “If you boys hadn’t gone behind our backs and tapped Ms. Monahan’s phone, none of this would have happened.” Medina’s gaze locked with Masters’. “Seems to me that makes the fact Sanchez found her as much your fault as ours.”

  Masters snorted. “That wouldn’t have stopped your boy here from calling her and Sanchez would have still tracked the call. That’s what happens when a case becomes personal.”

  “That’s what happens when there’s a mole in the ranks,” Medina answered mildly. “Your ranks.”

  That shut Masters up, but Ben couldn’t get it out of his head that if he hadn’t called Liz, if he’d just stuck to the plan, her life wouldn’t have been endangered. He nearly got her, R.W. and Hal killed. Not to mention, two federal agents.

  “He’s right, Captain. I screwed up.” Ben looked at Masters and Braxton. “But that doesn’t mean you should have gone behind our backs.”

  “You went behind our backs and tucked her away,” Masters shot back.

  Ben nodded, too tired to fight. “Yeah, we did. And my call is what tipped off your informer. Now what are you going to do about it?”

  “Catch him,” Braxton said.

  “With Hunter’s help,” Medina said.

  Ben started. “Captain—”

  “This comes down from the Chief,” Medina cut in. “Dendy’s already spoken with the governor. He agreed. It’s time we played nice together. A lot went wrong on this operation—because the Rangers and the FBI wanted to run independent operations. Let’s not forget, we have half a dozen law enforcement officers to find.”

  “No word?” Ben asked.

  “No. But it’s only been twelve hours. However, we’re wondering if their disappearance might not have something to do with the mole who tipped Sanchez off to Ms. Monahan’s whereabouts.”

  “Catch him, find them,” Ben said.

  “Maybe.” Medina shifted his gaze to the two agents. “I think you boys will be hearing from Phillips anytime now.”

  Masters’ mouth thinned, but he kept quiet. Ben didn’t give a damn what Masters or Braxton or Phillips—their boss—thought. He didn’t care what Medina or Dendy had to say. He was going to see Liz. He’d nearly gotten her killed. She might not want to see him, but he had to try. He had to apologize. He had to tell her—

  “There’s something you might want to know, Hunter.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Word is, Manny Alvarado has already stepped into Sanchez’s shoes.”

  “Alvarado?” Ben felt as if he’d taken a baseball bat to the gut.

  “What’s so special about Manny Alvarado?” Masters demanded. He looked from Medina to Ben. “You’ve got a history with Alvarado.” He snorted. “This is too good.”

  Ben slowly turned his gaze onto the agent. “Why did you save my life?”

  Masters’ brow furrowed, then understanding glimmered in his eyes. “Saving pretty boys like you is my job, and I’m good at it. You didn’t think that meant I liked you, did you?”

  “Not for a minute,” Ben said, then turned his attention back to Medina. “Alvarado is more violent than Sanchez. If he discovers those six kidnap victims are law enforcement agents he’ll strip them naked and let every one of his men rape them in public, then leave them for anyone else who wants them. I’m in, Captain.”

  * * *

  It took four days for the FBI, the Texas Rangers, State Department, Homeland security, and the doctors to release Liz. During that whole time, she had seen Ben only twice in passing. Medina said she and Ben couldn’t be allowed to compare stories. This was such a high profile case, he said, he couldn’t chance the appearance of collusion. Even Masters and Braxton were sequestered somewhere in their secret underground complex. That had made her laugh for about a second to think the FBI had more secrets than the military or the secret service.

  Finally free, Liz took a cab to the airport, glad to have come to her senses during those four days. The cabbie got her carryon out of the trunk, accepted the fare and a large tip with a bow before taking off.

  She had researched a bit about the Stockholm syndrome and it fit her attachment to Ben. It wasn’t his fault. Their lives had been in danger and he looked up to her as more mature and down to earth. Besides, one night of lovemaking didn’t make a relationship. At the time, she needed him just the way he was: young and in lust.

  Even now, the thought of a man like him wanting her sent a wave of heat up her cheeks. But it was time to go home. According to her staff, the bad Bond girl mystique created as a result of her kidnapping and race across the border had gone viral. It seemed that every hot chick, and chicks who wanted to be hot, were crying for the outfit she’d worn at the party. Of course, many would pay more to have one made in custom cuts and leather. All the details made her head spin.

  Liz paused and glanced back across the airport at the buildings on the horizon. She had gotten to like this town. But she wouldn’t return. Next year, she would send Brenda. It hurt too much. That much, she couldn’t deny.

  * * *

  Liz arrived home to find a dozen messages on her phone. She pulled pen and paper from a small desk in her living room, then settled on the couch with a cup of hot chocolate and began listening. She reached the last message and her fingers tightened on the phone when Ben’s voice came loud and clear through the line.

  “Hey, Liz. I guess you haven’t gotten home yet. I’m sorry I missed you before you left. They didn’t tell me you were leaving and, well, I’ve been in meetings. Not much of an excuse, is it, honey?”

  Liz couldn’t stifle a sob.

  “I’ll try again later.” A pause followed, and she thought he’d hung up, then he said, “I miss you.” A click sounded.

  Liz hugged the phone to her chest, then curled up on the couch and cried.

  * * *

  In the new Nina Bruno Building in Dallas—bigger and better than the one Carlos Sanchez had burned--Liz’s office door opened and she looked up from the design she studied.

  “You’ll want to see this,” Becky, her assistant, hurried to Liz’s desk, picked up the TV remote, and pointed it at the TV on the right hand wall.

  She changed the channel and the tail end of a toothpaste commercial filled the screen. As the close-up of dazzling white teeth and catchy jingle vanished, a young, pretty reporter appeared on the screen. “To continue our late breaking news, we’re at Las Palmas Hospital in El Paso where we have learned that Texas Ranger Ben Hunter has just been released after rescuing six undercover police officers from Juarez’s human trafficking underworld.”

  Liz stared. Ben back in Juarez? He’d killed Sanchez, but someone had surely taken his place—and that someone would kill Ben just as quickly as Sanchez would have. But this is what Ben did: rescue people. Liz unexpectedly remembered the conversation Ben had with his Captain when he took her from the hospital to the safe house.

  “Completely off the grid?” Ben had said.

  He also said something about someone telling Sanchez something. He had to have been talking about the missing officers. Suddenly she understood. The undercover police officers had been sent as the first transport on Francis Remmey’s trucks.

  “Are you all right, Ms. Monahan?”

  Liz started at the sound of Becky’s voice. “What? Yes, Becky. I’m fine. Would you give this back to Lisa?” She handed Becky the design she’d been studying.

  “Sure.” Becky took the papers, then walked back to the door. She glanced at Liz as she reached to close the door behind her.

  The camera panned from the reporter to Ben as he emerged from the main entrance of the hospital, followed by three very young, very beautiful women, and started down the walkway toward reporters gathered there. Liz’s heart pounded. He wore jeans and a white shirt—what he’d worn in the hospital that day. His Texas Rangers badge covered the pocket over his left breast. Her heart ached. He looked as good as she remembered. But she’d had little chan
ce to forget.

  Promotions for their upcoming line were riddled with pictures of the two of them at the gala. Pictures from the photo shoot he’d done with Tanya sat on Becky’s desk waiting for his approval to be used for other promotions. Their communications to him had gone unanswered, and when Liz had her assistant call Captain Medina, he’d told her that Ben was away on assignment and he didn’t know when he would return.

  But worse than their promotions was the four calls he’d made to her following that first message. She hadn’t answered or returned his calls. When no other calls followed, she should have been relieved. Instead, hurt had surfaced. She was unreasonable, and knew it, but that didn’t change her feelings.

  Ben and the three women neared the reporters and the camera shifted back to the young reporter. “Texas Ranger Ben Hunter headed the operation to rescue six undercover agents missing during an operation to infiltrate accused human traffics dealer Carlos Sanchez’s organization.” Ben and the women reached the reporter and she thrust a microphone toward him. “Ranger Hunter, can you tell us how the agents are doing?”

  Ben nodded toward the women who accompanied him. “As you can see, these three officers are doing just fine.” The camera zoomed in on the three beauties who stood beside him.

  The reporter shifted the mike to the closest woman, a tall, voluptuous blonde. “Can you tell us how Ranger Hunter found you?”

  She grunted. “He burst in when I was interrogating a prisoner. He completely blew my cover.”

  The reporter swung the mike back to Ben. “Is that true, Ranger Hunter?”

  Ben nodded. “Fortunately, Officer Kelley had pretty much finished interrogating the suspect.”

  “We understand that one of your agents was killed in the operation,” the reporter said.

  “Yes,” the blonde said. “Officer Pulaski. She died saving a fourteen-year-old boy from a gang rape.”

  The reporter blinked, clearly caught off guard, but then she broke from the shock and said smoothly, “She must have been an outstanding police officer.”

  “The best,” the blonde said. “And she would have considered her sacrifice well worth the cost. Aside from the boy, we saved two dozen young women and men from lives as slaves.”