Ripped Apart

by Miriam Minger

“It’s not them…oh, God, I can’t do this. I can’t do this!”

  She pulled the car over so sharply onto the shoulder that she heard a thud and then Jake cursing in the back seat, but she didn’t care. She threw the car into park and groped wildly for the door handle, panic choking her.

  She needed to get out. She needed to face this man, a friend of Doug McKain’s or not, and demand to know what the hell he was doing. She shoved open the door and started to climb out, only to be grabbed by the collar of her T-shirt and hauled back into the car as a burst of gunshot shattered the rear window.

  “Damn it, Clare, stay down.”

  She was down, hugging the seat, her fingernails digging into the bloody upholstery. She scarcely heard the front passenger door open for her heartbeat thundering in her ears, but she screamed when someone grabbed her by the shoulders. In an instant she was hauled out to the ground and sent rolling down the embankment.

  “Don’t move! Keep your head down!”

  Clare came to rest at the bottom of the ditch and spat out a mouthful of buffalo grass and dirt. She was so terrified she wouldn’t have thought to move a muscle. Tires screeched to a halt and men yelled in Spanish, then she heard the pop, pop of gunfire followed by an ominous silence.

  Had Jake been shot? Was he dead? Had the killers seen her? She glanced to her left at the thick cedar trees and wondered desperately if she’d make it there by crawling before anyone saw her. She had to look around her to see if they were coming. She had to raise her head, if only a little…

  Clare choked back a scream at the sight of a man’s body lying at the top of the embankment with a bullet hole in his forehead.

  His black staring eyes bored into her as blood oozed from the hole, spittle dribbling out of his mouth, but the man wasn’t Jake. Thank God, it wasn’t Jake. He stood on the passenger side of a light colored SUV pulled up behind Detective McKain’s car, his gun pointed at a swarthy Latino sprawled on the ground.

  Rapid-fire, fluent Spanish erupted from Jake as Clare watched open-mouthed, still not daring to move. Where was the Taurus? She realized then that the killers must have hijacked the SUV after they crashed their car, some hapless driver probably having stopped to help them. Had they shot and killed him too?

  Sickened, Clare dropped her chin to the dirt and listened to the staccato exchange between Jake and his prone captive although she understood little. She’d never formally studied Spanish and she wished now that she had. Only when Jake called out her name did she rise shakily to her feet. She skirted around the dead man, her heart still pounding. She reached Jake’s side just as he dropped to one knee and pressed his gun to the man’s left temple.

  “In English, amigo, for the lady.”

  Short and thickset, the man didn’t readily answer but stared at Clare. His dark eyes appeared as cold and emotionless as a snake’s. Jake spoke to him very low in Spanish, dug the muzzle deeper into the man’s temple and cocked the weapon with an ominous click. The man shuddered, fresh sweat beading his forehead. Once more he fixed his eyes on Clare.

  “Your son…he lives.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Clare stared at the man. Jake removed the cell phone from his captive’s shirt pocket and slipped it into his own.

  “Get back into the car.”

  “But my son…he said my son—”

  The deafening report from Jake’s gun drowned out Clare’s words, followed instantly by a bone-chilling shriek as the prone man clutched at his shattered right kneecap and writhed on the ground.

  So much blood. Clare glanced at Jake but he ignored her and steered her to Detective McKain’s car. As soon as she was seated he slammed the front passenger door shut and went back to his captive. Another ear-shattering report made Clare jump in her seat.

  She twisted around to see the man holding onto his other knee as he screamed in agony. Jake got into the car and started the engine without saying a word.

  They pulled a U-turn and sped north, Jake remaining grimly silent while Clare sat in a mute daze beside him. A mile down the road, he drew the cell phone from his shirt pocket and punched in three numbers, his voice as hard as his expression when the other party answered.

  “Listen carefully. No questions. Direct the police to Smithson Valley, five miles north of Bulverde Road. They’ll find a tan-colored SUV parked on the shoulder, one man dead and another shot and disabled but anyone who approaches him should consider him extremely dangerous. He and his partner have murdered at least four people—the Garzas, Billy Carson, and Detective Doug McKain. You’ll find Detective McKain’s body a mile south”—Jake’s sideways glance at Clare made her mouth the directions to him—”left side…dirt road…back in the trees. Got it?”

  Jake ended the call before what Clare guessed to be the 911 operator could have answered him, and shoved the cell phone back in his pocket. A heavy silence filled the car. Clare glanced from the handgun shoved into the waist of Jake’s jeans to his unreadable expression.

  For the first time she looked at him, really looked at him: his black hair cropped close to his head much like a Marine, his tanned, rugged features marked by a day or two’s worth of stubble, a lean yet powerful frame that evidenced a man who worked himself hard…and back to the pistol again that he’d handled as if he’d been born to it. He glanced at her and for the first time it registered with Clare that his eyes were a piercing blue.

  Something else registered, too, and it chilled her. “You used me as bait.”

  Jake’s expression remained unchanged as he looked back at the road. “You needed answers. My friend is dead. I wanted answers. We got them. Those men were paid to kill you.”

  Clare said nothing. She sensed with a stab of dread that he was going to tell her more, much more.

  “Hit men from Mexico. Monterrey. That’s where they took Tyler.”

  Clare knew she was staring at Jake stupidly, but this revelation was so unexpected and incredible she was having trouble making sense of it.

  “Eduardo Ruiz,” Jake continued. “Ever heard that name? Seen it in the newspapers?”

  Clare shook her head while Jake’s expression grew harder.

  “Not surprised. He’s kept a low profile but he’s a key player in the Castillo drug cartel run by his brother-in-law and kingpin, Manuel Castillo. The Feds have been trying to shut them down for years—looks like they’re still trying. Mexico’s political corruption almost guarantees that drug traffickers are virtually untouchable.”

  Jake took the turn so fast onto Hidden Spring that Clare thought they might spin out of control. He didn’t say anything more but sped along the paved road, an occasional slide of the tires onto the narrow shoulder sending gravel and clouds of dust churning behind them.

  They turned into Isabella Ranch and she thought they might stop at the house but Jake kept going. The dirt road grew narrower as he drove past barns, fenced pastures and several outbuildings until they came to what looked like a large machine shed constructed of corrugated metal.

  Jake slammed on the brakes near the front of the building and lunged out of the car, the engine still running, and Clare followed suit, not knowing what else to do. She stood to one side while Jake hauled open what appeared to be a garage door to reveal a John Deere tractor and other machinery.

  As soon as he started up the tractor and began to drive it out of the shed, she sensed his purpose. She went around to the other side of Detective McKain’s car and got back in to steer the vehicle into the tractor’s place. When she turned off the engine, Jake had already parked the tractor under a spreading live oak and met her at the car door.

  “Thanks. We’ll leave the vehicle here for now. I need to figure out what the hell to do with you.”

  Clare was glad to get out of the car, but Jake’s statement startled her. “I don’t understand. Shouldn’t we go to the police? The FBI? Those two men aren’t looking for me now—”

  “What if there are others? What makes you think it’s going to stop here? The police an
d FBI can’t help you, Clare, trust me.”

  Jake strode out of the shed. Only when he began to close the door did Clare hurry out, too, her legs feeling wooden and her heart racing. She stopped behind him while he hauled shut the door and padlocked it.

  “What do you mean they can’t help me?”

  “Simple. Eduardo Ruiz wants you dead.”

  Jake turned around so suddenly to face her that Clare stumbled backward. He caught her arm and pulled her closer to him, his eyes staring into hers. “Let me paint the picture for you. He’s taken your son and wants you eliminated so you’ll never try to get Tyler back. Eduardo’s son Daniel became the organ donor, not the Garza boy, and the parents were slaughtered yesterday in retribution for their mistake. Eduardo somehow found out that Tyler was the heart recipient and set this whole insane thing into motion.”

  “That man…the one you wounded, he told you all this?”

  “Better to spill his guts than have his dick cut off and shoved down his throat. Works every time.”

  Jake released Clare’s arm and walked away from her, shaking his head. She blinked in the bright sunlight as sweat slid down her back and tears stung her eyes. Useless tears she wiped away with the back of her hand as she ran after him, her voice rising.

  “What else did he say? Damn you, Jake Wyatt, tell me!”

  He turned around slowly to face her, his expression as grim as she’d seen it. “Tyler’s in a heavily guarded compound in Monterrey. Maybe someplace more remote. The hit man wasn’t too sure about that detail. Your ex-husband was murdered right after the Garzas for the same reason they want you dead. Anyone closely related to Tyler is to be killed, Ruiz’s orders. Doug simply got in the way.”

  “I know, I’m so sorry—”

  “He was doing his job.” Jake glanced into the distance for a moment, silent, then slowly exhaled and turned back to Clare. “Lucky thing the hit man was a long-time associate of Ruiz’s or we’d never have learned this much. Ruiz must have trusted him to tell him that his wife wanted her son back, at least what was left of him. I guess that meant his heart…and Tyler. I’m sorry, Clare.”

  He started to walk away from her but she ran after him and grabbed his arm to stop him. Rising panic threatened to choke her. “You’re sorry? Some Mexican drug lord kidnapped my son and you say you’re sorry? Tyler could die without the proper treatment. He needs special medication and constant monitoring, and if he started a fever—”

  “He’s probably receiving the best medical care money can buy—a helluva lot of money. Eduardo Ruiz is one of the richest men in Mexico, and his brother-in-law Manuel—”

  “You speak as if you know these people.” Clare began to pace around him in a frantic circle. “What did you tell me earlier? U.S. authorities have been trying to shut them down for years and you called them murderers.“

  “They are murderers. Butchers. The Garzas, Doug, your ex-husband, innocent women and children…”

  Jake’s expression had grown so grave that Clare stopped in her tracks to look at him. His eyes burned into hers.

  “I know about Ruiz and Castillo and others like them because it used to be my job, okay? Ever heard the term military attaché? It’s a nice euphemistic title that means everything and nothing, but what they see and do throughout any country you could name would make you run screaming into the night. I know because I’ve done it.”

  “You served in Mexico?”

  “Left the place four years ago. I moved around a lot, Nuevo Laredo, Mexico City, Matamoros, but Monterrey was my home base. Believe me, there are a lot of us veterans of the war against the Mexican drug trade out there.”

  He set out again, leaving Clare to hurry after him while she felt as if she were fighting to breathe. Her hands balled into fists, she shouted at his back, “You said the police and FBI can’t help me—”

  “They’d try, but you’d be dead within the week. U.S. Marshals, Texas Rangers, maybe even Witness Protection, you name it—they’d do their best but fail you. If someone like Eduardo Ruiz wants a person dead, they die, sooner than later.”

  “What about the Mexican authorities? Or if we went through some diplomatic channel—”

  “I guess you didn’t hear me about the political corruption. These drug cartels have everyone eating out of their hands and fearing for their lives. Tyler might as well have been sucked into a great black hole for all the help you’ll get there.”

  “Okay, great, no FBI, no police, no assistance from Mexico. Maybe that hit man might give us some more information—something that could help—”

  “The police probably have him in custody now, and they’ll never get him to say a word.”

  “You managed it.”

  “I’ve always been very persuasive, but I’m not shy about my techniques. I use them. Law enforcement wouldn’t. Too many damned rules to protect the innocent until proven guilty. Maybe if we’re lucky the bastard bled to death before the police got to him.“

  “Wonderful. Another idea shot to hell, thanks to you.”

  Jake stopped and turned around to face her. “Would you rather I’d let him go instead of shooting him since he’d been so helpful, and hoped the police would catch him once they got a good description of his vehicle?”

  “No, no, of course I wouldn’t.“

  “I didn’t think so. Trust me, Doug would have approved.”

  “But there has to be something I can do.” Tears blinded Clare and that upset her even more as she waved her arm at the machine shed. “Just give me the damn keys to the car and I’ll leave. You’ve done enough already. You risked your life to save mine and you don’t even know me. He’s my son, damn you! I can’t leave him there and I don’t care if this Eduardo Ruiz is the richest man on the planet. I don’t care if he’s hired a hundred hit men to hunt me down. I’ll do anything to get Tyler back, do you hear me? I’ll go after him myself!”

  Her voice had grown so desperate and shrill that she startled a flock of scrub jays out of a nearby live oak. As they circled above her, screeching, Clare sank her forehead into her hand and began to weep silently, overcome.

  Who was she kidding? She’d be dead if not for Doug McKain’s brave actions, and Jake’s protection too. She had never touched a handgun, never taken a self-defense course.

  Now look at her. These stupid tears wouldn’t help Tyler. Her false bravado wouldn’t help him, either, yet here she was thinking of driving off with no clue and no plan—

  “Say it to me again, Clare.”

  She blinked and looked up. Jake stood in front of her, staring at her intently. She took a step backward and wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. “Say what again?”

  “What you’d do to get your son back.”

  Her hand fell to her side, her heart suddenly pounding. “Anything. I said I’d do anything. Go there myself if I have to.”

  He didn’t respond but just looked at her. His eyes were locked with hers as if weighing what she’d said. For a fleeting instant a shadow passed over his face as if he wrestled with himself or perhaps didn’t believe her. Tears burned her eyes, but she swore in that moment she wouldn’t cry again.

  “I want my son home with me,” she said, her voice growing stronger. “Safe. Happy. Just tell me what I need to do.”

  “Okay. Start with this.”

  Clare glanced at the cell phone he held out to her, then back to his face. Any turmoil she’d sensed in him was gone.

  “Ruiz is probably waiting for a call from those two…waiting to hear you’re shot dead. If you got him on the phone, what would you tell him?”

  Sickened by the thought, Clare took the phone from Jake and studied it for a moment, then hurled it with all her strength at the nearest live oak. The phone shattered into pieces against the twisted trunk, a high-pitched buzzing sound coming from what was left of the receiver. Jake went over and ground it into the dirt with the heel of his boot and the buzzing stopped.

  “No more phone calls. Guess he’ll just have
to wonder what the hell’s going on up here…and maybe buy us some time to get to Monterrey. Come on.”

  Jake set off toward the house and Clare hurried to catch up with him, astonished. “Did you say Monterrey?”

  “That’s where Tyler was taken, right? At least it’s a place to start.”

  She nodded, trying to keep up with his longer strides. “But you said us—”

  “Do you speak Spanish?”

  “No.”

  “Guess you’ll need my company. You said you’d do anything, right?”

  “Yes, whatever I have to.“

  “Then we need to get out of here. A cop’s dead. This whole area’s going to be swarming soon with Federal and local authorities. They won’t learn much from the hit man, but they’ve got a lot to chew on from my 911 call. I don’t want to be around if some agents start connecting any dots. If we have a chance in hell of retrieving your son and making it out of Mexico alive, we’re going to have to be totally under the radar.”

  Clare stopped dead in her tracks and he stopped too, and turned around to look at her. Clare felt such a raw tightness in her throat that she wasn’t sure if she could speak, but Jake read her mind.

  “I don’t want your thanks.”

  “But—”

  “I said I don’t want your thanks. Top priority now is to get you far away from here and anyone else Ruiz sent to kill you. We’ll catch a flight out today—not here, from Austin. Less chance of running into anyone I know. Now let’s get moving.”

  His voice had grown harsh, the same shadow passing over his face. He turned and strode away, leaving her as startled by his change in demeanor as when he’d said he planned to take her to Monterrey.

  God help her, she didn’t know this man and yet she was entrusting herself to him as well as her son’s life. It was all so crazy, but no more insane than the reason Eduardo Ruiz’s wife had wanted Tyler abducted. What else was there for her to do?

  Clare set out after Jake. He’d already disappeared into the back of the house, the screen door slamming behind him.

  She’d only had to think of Tyler and knew she had no other choice.