Trusting the Bodyguard

by Kimberly Van Meter

  “Let me out,” she demanded, nearing hysterical tears if she didn’t get away from him. “Let me out!”

  “No,” he answered calmly. “We have not discussed your new role.”

  “My new role?” she repeated, disgust in her voice. “I have no role in your life. I’d rather die.”

  “No, you wouldn’t. You would do anything for that brat. She’s my insurance policy. As long as you remain by my side, loving and attentive as any good wife should be, we will raise Jenna together. If you cross me, try to leave or anything else that doesn’t please me, I will slice that baby flesh one piece at a time and make you watch as she screams. And when I’m done, I’ll toss her little carcass to the dogs.”

  Marissa couldn’t breathe. The air in the cloistered Town Car was suddenly hot and lacking oxygen. Oh, Jenna. The very idea of that happening to her beloved niece made her want to throw up. Her heart rate doubled and she feared passing out. “How could you?” she gasped, black dots dancing in front her. “She’s your own daughter!”

  He shrugged. “We will make many babies, cariño. Ones not tainted by your sister’s blood.” He reached over to rub her belly possessively. “You will give me sons. Or die trying.”

  Marissa gulped, straining to hold on to the thin thread of consciousness but for the first time in her life…she fainted.

  “WE GOT ENOUGH?” Archer growled, pulling his gun to double-check his ammunition. He was ready to pound a new expression into that slick Latino scumbag, one that was minus a few teeth.

  “We got him,” Jeremiah said, “although you know his high-price lawyer is going to squawk about the recording without his knowledge bullshit.”

  “Not worried about a technicality,” Archer said, gearing up in a Kevlar vest and strapping more ammunition into his tool belt.

  “You should,” Jeremiah warned, strapping gear, as well.

  Rico entered just as they were finished. “Hot diggity. Where we headin’, boys?” he asked, the shit-eating grin on his face almost comical if it weren’t for the circumstances.

  “We’re going to catch ourselves a big fish. Want to come?” Jeremiah asked.

  “You know it. I love to fish. Especially when the catch is a scum-sucking drug lord from the East Side.”

  Archer bared his teeth in a travesty of a smile, ready to do some damage. “Then let’s do it. I’m hungry for a fight.”

  “Yeehaw!” Rico said, his exuberance masking the stone-cold professional that Archer knew his teammate was. “Let’s ride, amigos.”

  “You got a 20 on that Town Car?” Archer asked as they walked out the door.

  “Yeah,” Jeremiah said as he checked the GPS tracker but suddenly frowned. “Shit. We just lost signal.”

  Archer knew that meant one of two things and neither boded well for Marissa.

  “It could be a glitch,” Rico suggested, all jocularity gone. “You know that happens with the tiny wires.”

  “It isn’t a glitch,” Archer returned, not willing to give himself false hope. Somehow Ruben had figured out she was wearing a wire. Son of a—

  “Arch…”

  “Yeah, I know,” Archer said, compressing his lips to a tight line. “Regroup,” he muttered beneath a stream of hot curse words.

  “We need a team if we’re going into the compound. It’s not going to be as simple as walking in with a warrant. A traffic stop is one thing…taking him down on his own turf without backup…that’s a suicide mission,” Jeremiah said, his frown deepening, but at Archer’s ominous expression he added, “We’ll go in when the sun goes down. She’s a smart girl. She’ll figure out a way to stay alive.”

  Archer felt sweat beading his forehead and nausea clamping down on his gut. “I know,” he said, bluffing. Perhaps if he said it enough times he’d believe it. But right about now he didn’t know what kind of hell Marissa was going to have to live through until they got there.

  Just stay alive, honey. Stay alive. I’m coming for you.

  RUBEN CRUSHED THE TINY beadlike earrings between his fingers. Wires protruded from the thin metal casing and he knew his cariño had betrayed him…again.

  At first he’d simply planned to take them away so he could replace them with something more beautiful than the simple gold studs, but as he plucked them from her ears while she was out cold, he realized what he was holding.

  And it made him see red.

  He would punish her. She needed a strong hand, someone to teach her boundaries. He ran his knuckles across her cheek. He was the man to do this and he accepted the challenge gleefully. Even now, as she slept, her beauty stirred him like no other. Her sister had been a cheap imitation of the vision in his possession.

  But, even as he visually caressed her body, lingering on the soft, plump mounds of the breasts that haunted his dreams, he thought of how he was going to make her scream in pain.

  His breathing accelerated and he hardened with anticipation. A woman’s tears of agony were a beautiful thing, a gift that he relished wringing from their eyes as they pleaded for mercy. His thoughts wandered to Layla and he smiled at the memory of her last moment. He sighed. So nice.

  Ah, cariño. Your tears will water my soul. Just as it should be. We will have a wonderful life together.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  NIGHT COULDN’T COME fast enough. Archer paced until Rico finally threw a pen at him and made him stop.

  “You’re driving me crazy with your pacing, bro,” Rico said, glowering at Archer. They were all edgy, waiting for the sun to go down so they could infiltrate the compound high in the Oakland hills. They had a full team, sixteen officers in full SWAT mode, with Rico, Jeremiah and Archer each leading a group to surround the four-thousand-square-foot residence.

  “How much longer?” Archer asked Jeremiah.

  “Another hour. You know the drill. Go take a powder. We won’t leave without you.”

  Archer grunted in answer and strode from the room. He felt as if a hundred ants were crawling over his skin, as his nerves played ping-pong with one another. He never should’ve let her walk out the front door with that psycho. He should’ve found a different way rather than using her as bait but they’d needed Ruben to believe that everything was cool. The fact that Marissa was a terrible liar weighed on his mind and almost made him discard the plan on that issue alone but he knew they likely had one shot to make this work and so they’d gone ahead with the plan. If anything happened to her…A vision of Kandy Kane’s dead body flashed in his mind, only this time it was Marissa and he nearly lost what little breakfast he’d eaten.

  Detouring to a secure phone, he dialed the number to the family fostering Jenna while she was in federal custody.

  Rachel Forsmann, a nice but no-nonsense woman, picked up the line. “This is Rachel Forsmann. How may I help you?”

  “This is Agent Brant. How is Jenna doing?” he asked, wishing he could see her. “Is she all right?”

  “Code word, please,” came the pleasant but firm voice on the other line, and Archer relaxed, glad to know that Forsmann was a stickler for details.

  “Code word hot dog.”

  “Thank you, Agent Brant. She was a little fussy but after a hot meal she settled right down. She’s a good sleeper. She conked out a little bit ago. Would you like me to wake her?”

  “No. Let her sleep. I just…” wanted to hear her little voice. Better yet he wanted to hold her in his arms and tell her that everything was going to be okay and that the only mother she’d ever remember was coming home soon. But he couldn’t say any of those things and not just because she was already fast asleep. “Never mind. Just take good care of her. She’s a special kid.”

  “All children are special, Agent Brant,” Rachel returned evenly. “Is there anything else you require?”

  “No. I’m sorry to have bothered you.”

  “No trouble, Agent Brant. Perhaps…you’d like to come and see her tomorrow?” she suggested.

  “Yeah…we’ll see,” he said, not willing to commit to a
nything. He didn’t want to jinx the operation. His cell phone buzzed at his hip. It was Jeremiah. Time to hit it. “Good night, Mrs. Forsmann.”

  “Good night, Agent Brant. We’ll be home all day tomorrow if you change your mind.”

  He replaced the office phone on the cradle and returned his cell phone to the holster on his utility belt.

  “Let’s rock and roll,” he muttered and prepared to go to battle, to fight to the death if need be, for the woman he loved.

  MARISSA AWOKE IN A luxurious room filled with crisp white linens on the king-size bed, framed high-quality prints of priceless paintings gracing the walls, and thick white Berber carpet under her feet. The carpet reminded her too much of the carpet her sister had had in her apartment when she was killed. She tucked her feet under her and rubbed at her eyes, wondering what the hell was going on. A soft knock at the door startled her and she pulled the comforter around her. The door opened without her invitation. Expecting Ruben, she grabbed the first thing her fingers could reach and prepared to hurtle the small brass alarm clock at whoever had the misfortune of walking in, but when she saw a timid Puerto Rican woman coming with fresh towels she lowered the clock and apologized.

  “I thought you were someone else,” she said, trying to lessen the look of trepidation in the woman’s eyes. “I’m not the kind of person who throws things on a normal everyday basis,” she explained, feeling like a toad for scaring the poor woman.

  “Here are your towels,” the woman said softly, placing them on the polished surface of the black lacquered dresser. She turned to scurry from the room but Marissa hoped she might find an ally in this timid woman and asked her name.

  The woman looked confused. “I bring towels. You wash.”

  “I know what the towels are for. I just wondered what your name is,” she said, her hopes for a friendly face in this hell dwindling quickly. “My name is—”

  “You wash.”

  Marissa frowned. “Thank you but I’m not staying. I don’t need to shower.”

  The woman narrowed her small eyes at Marissa and a chill returned to her spine. “You wash or he get mad.”

  Marissa didn’t waste time playing dumb. She knew whom the maid was referring to. She swallowed. “Or what?” she challenged.

  The woman shook her head and simply repeated herself. “You wash. He likes his woman clean.” And then left the room.

  Marissa shuddered. She was not his woman. Where was Archer? Why hadn’t he come for her yet? She jumped from the bed and grabbed her shoes, slipping them on as quickly as possible. For reassurance, she touched her ears where the studs were and froze when her fingers found nothing but the soft pierced flesh of her earlobe. “Oh, God,” she squeaked, dropping to her knees to search the thick carpet, threading her fingers through the strands in the hopes of finding them before Ruben did but she came up empty. Panic distracted her to the point she didn’t realize the door had reopened until a small whine of the hinges made her say over her shoulder, “I don’t need to wash!” when she thought the woman had returned.

  But it wasn’t the small woman.

  “Looking for something?”

  Marissa stilled and rose slowly to turn and face Ruben. “As a matter of fact I lost a pair of earrings. Gold studs. They were quite special to me.”

  “A shame. I will replace them.”

  “I don’t want anything from you.”

  “Not even, perhaps, mercy?”

  “Mercy?” she repeated, disgust curling her lip. “When have you ever given anything as generous as mercy to another human being. You’re not capable.”

  A slow smile twisted his face. “You know me so well. Another reason we are well-suited.”

  “Go screw yourself, Ruben.”

  Ruben snapped his fingers and two of his thugs appeared. They looked much like Manny did before she gutted him, like gorillas stuffed in ill-fitting suits. “Bring her,” he instructed and they advanced toward her.

  “Don’t touch me,” she warned them but they weren’t inclined to listen. She tried to run but they were quick in spite of their luggish appearance. She let loose with a hearty screech that surely alerted the neighbors that something terrible was going on but no sound of sirens followed as they half dragged, half pulled her behind their boss.

  “Where are you taking me?” she ground out, glaring at the back of Ruben’s head.

  “To what will become—in time—your favorite place. It’s already mine.”

  Somehow she didn’t think he was taking her to Starbucks.

  Ruben opened double doors leading to a room that made her jaw drop and her feet seek purchase against the hardwood floor of the hallway.

  Oh, God. Her next thought was suffused within a terrified scream as the doors closed behind them and locks slid into place. Archer…please save me.

  ARCHER’S ADRENALINE WAS pumping, awakening every sense as the team went into their positions around the perimeter of the house Ruben called his compound.

  The guards were easy enough to dispatch, knocking them out with tranq darts that would give them a helluva headache when they came to but would leave no lasting effects. Not that Archer wouldn’t mind leaving behind a swath of dead bodies in his current frame of mind but Jeremiah made him promise he would use the tranqs and not the Glock so he didn’t have to deal with the paperwork that the General would foist on him when the assignment was over.

  They managed to procure a detailed floor plan of the building from city hall but it was anyone’s guess where Ruben was keeping Marissa. The key would be to get inside before alerting any of the interior guards so they could ascertain where she was being held.

  A scream—muffled but still audible—floated into the night and Archer stiffened, knowing it was Marissa. Every hair on his body stood on end at the tortured sound.

  But he held his position.

  They crept along the side wall, aiming for the kitchen door. Archer gained access quickly and easily without making a sound. Silently padding across the tiled floor, they subdued a Puerto Rican woman and two more thugs.

  But they didn’t see the third in time before he sounded the alarm. Suddenly gunfire erupted and Archer had to find cover. He ducked behind a wall and returned fire, dropping the man who had first took a shot at them. His team rushed in formation to take down the men who were running and firing off wild shots in the hopes that they might hit something. Bullets whizzed by and lodged themselves with a spray of plaster into the walls. Men screamed as the bullets that didn’t land harmlessly ripped into flesh.

  “We’re going to need EMS for these scum-suckers,” Archer said into his walkie and kept moving. He was single-minded in his focus. If it shot at him, he shot back. It was a pretty simple plan. And so far it was working.

  Since stealth was no longer an issue, he kicked in the right side of a set of double doors, rifle at the ready.

  But if he lived to be a hundred…he’d never be ready for what was waiting for him in that room.

  Marissa. Arms above her head, hung like a side of beef, she twisted, naked and bruised, blood trickling down the side of her mouth, while wheals of reddened flesh puckered in angry lines across her back. His eyes stung as he blinked back tears of agony but he waited for the all clear from his team that Ruben was not hiding elsewhere in the room. He could hear Jeremiah and Rico on the radio. House was secure. No sign of Ruben Ortiz.

  “What’s your 20, Arch?” Rico asked, amid the scratch of static on the radio.

  “Bedroom on the south end of the house, past the kitchen,” he answered hoarsely, holstering his gun and going to Marissa. His hands trembled as he went to get her down. “Get a medic. Immediately.”

  He wasn’t even sure if she was still alive. Her face was swollen. Her lip split, both eyes blackened, and finger marks encircled her neck as if Ruben had tried strangling her but then changed his mind and moved to a different mode of torture. She was damn near unrecognizable.

  Someone handed him a fine linen sheet they’d ripped fro
m the bed to wrap her in. They helped him in silence as he cut her down and then gently wrapped her battered body with loving and tender attention. She whimpered but the sound was so weak, he wasn’t sure he heard it.

  “Where’s the goddamn medic!” Tears blurred his vision and he prayed like a man who knew he was going to hell and it was his last day on Earth. He prayed for a miracle.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  MARISSA FLOATED WITH the weightlessness of water yet she wasn’t wet. She heard Jenna’s sweet laughter but couldn’t find her hiding spot. She felt Archer’s touch but when she reached out to touch him, he disappeared.

  Come back, she wanted to shout but her vocal cords were paralyzed. Her mouth worked but no sound came out. Panic caused her heart to flutter like a trapped bird.

  Archer, she wanted to cry out. Archer, where are you?

  Ruben’s face appeared before her and she shrank back. He’d done terrible things to her. So much pain. It hurt so bad she couldn’t hold back any longer. She’d tried to remain stoic, to laugh in the face of his efforts but the pain had been excruciating and she’d buckled under its weight. She’d thought Archer would save her. Why didn’t he?

  The first thing Marissa became fully aware of was moisture making a slow trail from the corners of her eyes. Then came the steady beep of machines, the scratch of utilitarian sheets and the hard surface of the bed she was lying in.

  Her body shrieked in protest when she turned her head to focus. The world was blurry but she knew she was in a hospital. Fear snaked its way into her heart as she wondered if Ruben was still there, seeing to her welfare after nearly killing her, just so he could do it to her all over again. She moaned as the pain hit a glorious crescendo and she heard the deep, low rumble of a man’s voice that immediately soothed her even as he seemed gruff with the other person in the room. Suddenly, the pain floated away like a balloon on a hot summer day, heading for the freedom of the clouds. And she sank into a blissful sleep that was dark, quiet and safe.