Concrete Evidence

by Rachel Grant

  CHAPTER NINE

  One year earlier

  Oaxaca, Mexico

  ERICA SAT ON THE DIRT FLOOR of the jail cell. The cell had no window, no bunk, no plumbing, and the air was hot and stagnant. She’d given up on breathing through her mouth to avoid the putrid stench hours ago. She pressed herself against the bars and tried to get comfortable in the least filthy spot. Previous prisoners had peed on the floor and used their own feces to write Spanish swear words on the concrete walls. Flies coated the curse words, giving the letters both motion and sound. A high-end art gallery might appreciate the display, but she didn’t.

  She had to get out of here.

  Before he locked her inside the cell, the officer made her take off the wet suit she’d donned over her shorts and T-shirt. Her clothes had long since dried. The salt on her skin made her feel itchy and twitchy, and she was sick to her stomach with fear. What the hell was going to happen to her?

  She’d asked in both English and Spanish to speak with someone from the Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia. She needed to convince an INAH official that Jake meant to steal from the Mexican government. She wasn’t the criminal. She’d been trying to save the artifacts when she took them and fled. But the officers ignored her.

  The arresting officer pulled a chair into the corridor outside the cell. A fat burrito dripped juice onto his pant leg. The aroma of spices and beans masked the stench of the cell for a brief moment. She guessed it was early evening, which meant she hadn’t eaten in about twenty-four hours. She’d give anything for a bite of that burrito. “Are you finally going to question me?”

  “No.”

  “They know everything they need to, Cream Puff.” Jake walked into the corridor carrying another burrito. “Leave us alone,” he said to the officer. The man stood up and left.

  Shit. “The cops are on your payroll,” she said bitterly.

  “Of course. I have a very large payroll. But then, I have a very large income. Which you are jeopardizing.” He sat down in the vacated chair and ate a bite, making a show of savoring the food. His smile was predatory. “Hungry?”

  She changed her mind. There were several things she wouldn’t do for a meal, and they all involved Jake.

  “Tell me where the artifacts are, and I’ll let you go.”

  “No.”

  “You can’t win, sweetheart.”

  “You’ll never find the artifacts. You need to cooperate with me.”

  “You’ve got spunk, that’s for sure. But that’s all you’ve got.” He dumped the food on the floor, just out of her reach. “See you tomorrow.”

  She repeatedly called out to the officers, demanding they contact INAH. At last an officer entered the hallway and said, “If you don’t shut up, we’ll stop giving you water.”

  She shut up.

  Sleep came with great difficulty but was the only way to pass the time, the only way to escape the hunger that gnawed at her from the inside.

  Jake returned the following day. From the slanting light in the hallway, she guessed it was evening and she’d been in the cell for about thirty-six hours. This time he had a steak that smelled so good it brought tears to her eyes.

  “You look terrible,” he said. “But don’t worry, Marco would still fuck you.”

  She turned and faced the flies on the wall. The words shimmered as the angled sunlight caught their shiny backs and fluttering wings. Mesmerizing but grotesque. Just like Jake.

  She had been attracted to him. The idea seemed ludicrous now. But she had, and for that she was ashamed.

  “All you have to do is talk, Erica.” He said the words kindly, as if he cared about her.

  She stared at the flies. “Go away, Jake.”

  He left, and the police officers went with him. She was alone, locked in a cell without food, and they hadn’t given her water since midday. The Mexican summer heat was unbearable. She no longer cared about food. She just wanted water.

  It was a relief when Jake came back the following evening. She’d begun to believe she would be left there to rot. Fly food.

  He gave her a sip of water. But the paltry swallow wasn’t enough.

  “Where are the artifacts?” he asked.

  “In the jungle. Near where my car broke down.” She’d been so close to freedom when the engine quit.

  “I knew that. Where in the jungle?” He held the water glass just out of her reach.

  “I just hid them and ran.”

  Jake dumped the water on the ground and walked away.

  She escaped into sleep, curled up on the hard dirt floor. In her feverish dreams, she was hot, thirsty, and alone. Sleep wasn’t an escape after all.

  She opened her eyes to see a murky light shining down the hallway. By her estimation, that was morning light. How long had she been here? Four days without food, two without water? More? Less? She couldn’t be certain.

  She drifted off to sleep again. This time she dreamed of her mother. “Why?” she asked her mother. “Why?” But her mother was dead and would never explain herself.

  She had no idea how much time had passed when she heard Jake say, “Cream Puff, I brought visitors.” Had it been less than a day? It could have been more. It seemed like forever.

  She opened her eyes. Her vision was blurry, and the dim light from the hallway hurt. She couldn’t help it, she let out a whimper of pain, hating the fact that Jake knew he’d beaten her. Her vision gradually cleared, dark shapes became people, and she realized the entire crew of the Andvari stood in the narrow hallway in front of her cell.

  “Your choice is simple. Tell me where the artifacts are, or Marco and the others take turns raping you.” Jake’s voice was so casual, as if he were reciting lunch options. He tossed a key into the air and caught it, then slid the key into the cell lock.

  The men leered at her with malevolence.

  She’d thought hiding the artifacts would keep her alive. She’d believed he wouldn’t let her die of dehydration or starvation because he didn’t want to lose millions of dollars worth of Aztec artifacts.

  She’d forgotten he could make her sorry she was alive.

  “You’re mine now, puta,” Marco said.

  A crew member grabbed her arms. She struggled against him. His grip tightened. Pain shot through her wrists. She felt dizzy, nauseated. Marco grabbed her shorts and pulled on the waistband. She bucked and kicked. He jumped backward.

  “Dammit! Hold her.”

  The man holding her wrenched her arms back. Searing pain burned her shoulders. Marco pulled down her shorts, then unzipped his pants. He was hard and ready.

  The metallic taste of fear filled her mouth. Her throat seized. This was really happening. She was about to be raped by Marco. Then the crew.

  “Tell me now, Cream Puff. In another ten seconds, I won’t be able to stop him.”

  “Enter the jungle due east of where my car was parked.” Her voice cracked and she tried to swallow, but her mouth was too dry. “Walk five hundred steps southeast, fifty steps east, then two hundred steps south.”

  “That’s where you buried it?”

  “No,” she rasped. Marco stood with his hard prick in his hand. Would he rape her anyway? “Repeat that pattern three times. It was dark, so I took small steps. If a tree blocks the way, veer to the left. The artifacts are buried under a downed tree.”

  “Find the artifacts,” Jake said to the crew. “I’ll stay here with Erica. Call me when you’ve got them.”

  The grip on her arms loosened. She would have felt relieved, except Marco looked angry and disappointed. “What if she’s lying?”

  “Then you get to rape her.”

  “If she’s telling the truth, will you let her go?”

  Jake didn’t answer.

  She doubled over and began to heave.

  The crew left. She pulled up her shorts, then curled into a ball. After a few minutes, Jake dropped next to her and rolled her onto her back. Cupping her head with one hand, he pressed a cold, clean, clear
glass of water to her lips. She opened her mouth and drank.

  He shifted her so her head and shoulders lay across his lap. She wanted to resist, but he held the water. Jake Novak was always in control.

  He caressed her forehead, then traced her nose and cheekbones like a lover. He poured another sip in her mouth. “The Aztec artifacts don’t exist, Erica. No one knows about them. The police here only care about the money I paid them. You have no proof we excavated the artifacts.”

  He didn’t know about the photos she’d taken. “What artifacts?” she croaked.

  “Good girl.” He gave her another sip of water and petted her head.

  She’d become his fucking lapdog.

  “Your car is fixed. You can drive away a free woman—”

  “What was wrong with it?” She’d wondered for days why her car broke down.

  “Marco tampered with the gas line when he went to the marina for the mail drop, just in case you decided to do something stupid.”

  Yes, Jake Novak was always in control.

  “I hated being forced to break you,” he said softly. He set the water glass aside, then traced the column of her throat. “Every time I look at you, I wonder how in hell you have skin so pale after living on a boat in Mexico for five weeks. But then, I’ve watched you apply sunblock a hundred times. And a hundred times, I’ve had to stop myself from grabbing the damn lotion and rubbing it in for you. And then there’s your wet suit and the way you shimmy into it. I could come just watching you. Every time I watched, I hoped you wouldn’t be able to get your D-cup tits into the tight suit.” He slid his hand under her T-shirt and squeezed her breast.

  To save herself, she had given up the only advantage she had, and now she would still be raped on the dirt floor of a fetid jail cell. With the last of her strength, she pushed his hand away.

  “Easy, Erica. I won’t do anything you don’t want.” He pulled her back onto his lap.

  “Then stop.”

  “Think about it. You can come back to the boat, share my cabin. I’ll double your pay—you’ll get a hundred and fifty grand for two months’ work.” He pressed her hand against his erection. “I’ll make you come so hard you’ll forget the last few days even happened.”

  She shoved at his chest. “You couldn’t find a clitoris with a compass.”

  He laughed and touched her breast, her side, then her crotch. “It’s right here. Waiting. For me.” He slid his hand inside her shorts. “Admit it. You’re as turned on as I am.”

  At last, she knew what to do. The man wanted the ultimate power trip—her broken, beaten, and living with him as his whore. He wanted to own her. His trophy. His hand in her shorts was a repulsive assault, but she willed her body to relax. She bit her lip and made her eyes say yes while her mouth said, “No.”

  She slid off his lap, dislodging his hand, and scooted back to lean against the bars. “No,” she said again. This time she made her voice breathy, aroused. She reached down and touched her nipple, squeezed her breast.

  His eyes widened; then he slowly smiled. “I knew you’d see things my way.”

  She could beat him.

  He pressed her into the bars as his mouth covered hers. She kissed him enthusiastically, as if he were the water she’d been deprived of. He groaned, then lifted her shirt and pulled her bra aside. His mouth locked on her nipple.

  She grabbed the forgotten water glass and smashed it against the bars, breaking the top. He jolted backward, but she caught his cheek with the jagged edge.

  He lashed out, knocking the broken glass from her hand. He was too fast; she too weak.

  Her wrist throbbed. She pulled down her shirt and felt her body begin to shake.

  Blood made dark tracks on his cheek and pooled in the hollow of his neck. “You’ll regret that, Erica.”

  He pulled her to her feet. Holding her in a viselike grip, he called for an officer. The man came running. Another lapdog.

  “Clean up the broken glass while I hold her,” he said in Spanish. He kicked the heavy broken base of the glass toward the bars. “When you’re done, get a doctor. I need stitches.”

  She wondered how he would punish her and struggled against him. His arms might as well have been bands of steel. The officer finished picking up the broken glass, and Jake let her go. She dropped to the ground.

  “If you lied and the boys don’t find the artifacts, then you’re going to find out what it’s like to get fucked in your mouth, ass, and cunt all at the same time. A true cluster fuck.” He left, locking the cell behind him.

  She hated him. She hated the crew. She hated the police who were so easily bribed. But most of all, she hated herself.

  He returned much later, sporting a fresh white bandage on his cheek. “They found the artifacts.” He unlocked the cell. “Your car is parked out front, loaded with everything you left behind on the Andvari. I’m giving you enough pesos to buy food and gas to get home.”

  She paused, hardly able to believe he was really letting her go. She wanted to ask him why, but that would be stupid, which she was trying very hard not to be. Not anymore.

  He flashed the Jake grin, the one that was so warm, so appealing, the dimples alone had convinced her to work for him. “You’re wondering why I’m letting you go.” He lifted her chin and ran the pad of his thumb over her lips. “You’re mine. You have no idea how hard I’ve worked to protect you these last five weeks. It would be a shame to waste all that effort, and if you’re here when Marco gets back…” His voice trailed off. “But you stole from us. For that, there is a price. You’re never working as an underwater archaeologist again.”

  He held her passport and keys just out of reach. “If you even think about contacting INAH or tell anyone what happened here, I’ll let Marco have you. What’s left of you after that will go to the crew.”

  She took her passport and keys and staggered for the door. She could barely walk, but dammit, she would find the strength to drive.

  She was certain of one thing: she wouldn’t be safe until Jake and Marco were behind bars. She could make that happen, as long as the Aztec artifacts didn’t disappear into some unknown buyer’s private collection. If they went on display in that tribal casino in Maryland, she could take her photos to the FBI.

  CHAPTER TEN

  July 2011

  Bethesda, Maryland

  THE METALLIC TASTE OF FEAR filled Erica’s mouth, and again, her throat seized. Blood rushed from her arms and legs, and she swayed on her feet. Jake Novak was here. Standing in front of her. She felt Lee’s hands on her hips as he steadied her. She leaned against him, the back of her head resting against his chest, grateful he was there.

  Jake wore his predatory smile. His eyes raked her possessively, and Lee tightened his grip on her hips. This was wrong. Terribly, horribly wrong. She didn’t want anyone to know her past with Jake Novak, and yet here she stood, weak-kneed, facing Jake in the hallway while Lee held her protectively.

  “Erica?” Lee whispered in her ear.

  If Jake misread her relationship with Lee, then her foolish intern could be in danger.

  She shook herself, pulled away from him, and found her voice. “Sorry. All that coffee without eating caught up with me, I guess. Caffeine and low blood sugar don’t mix.” Breathing became easier. Not natural, but easier.

  “You were starving the last time I saw you too,” Jake said. “You really need to take better care of yourself.”

  White-hot anger evaporated her fear. She straightened her spine and fixed her gaze on the inch-long scar on his left cheek. “Nice scar. Looks like it must’ve hurt.”

  “Chicks love it.”

  “Why are you here?” She heard the brittleness in her voice and worried Lee could too.

  “I was going to ask you the same thing,” Jake said.

  What sort of game was he playing? He’d e-mailed her at work; he knew about her job. But with Lee watching, she had to play along. “I work here.”

  “Wonderful.” His eyes were as
cold as his voice. “I’m teaming with Talon & Drake on a proposal.”

  “The navy project,” she said with deep dread. When Rob Anderson first mentioned the underwater salvage project, she’d felt a rush of panic, knowing Talon & Drake would team with an underwater archaeologist who knew her past—they all knew her past—but she’d never, ever, considered the nightmare scenario of Talon & Drake teaming with Jake.

  “That’s the one.”

  Lee slipped an arm around her waist as he held out his other hand. “We haven’t been introduced. I’m Lee Scott.”

  She caught the steely look in Lee’s eye and could feel the tension in his body. He’d picked up on her fear. As repugnant as the idea was, she needed to talk to her old boss alone. She stepped forward, away from Lee’s protective arm, and pushed Jake in the chest, forcing him backward. “In there,” she said, pointing toward the vacant conference room across the hall.

  Jake tossed a look over his shoulder at Lee and slid a possessive arm around her shoulders. She itched to shove him away but needed to lose Lee first. At the doorway, she nudged Jake into the room with a sharp jab of her elbow, then turned and said, “Sorry, this conversation is private,” and shut the door in Lee’s face.

  She whirled to face Jake, knowing better than to turn her back on him for long. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “What? No kiss hello?”

  “Pucker up while I bend over.”

  He laughed. “I’ve missed you, Cream Puff. Life on the boat was dull after you left.”

  “You can’t team with Talon & Drake.”

  He held up a manila envelope. “But I am. This is my qualifications package for the team. I was hoping to talk to Edward Drake, but I hear he’s in a meeting.” He took a step toward her and lifted her chin with his forefinger. “Don’t fuck this up for me, sweetheart.” He leaned into her. “I mean it. You’ve been blackballed on the West Coast. Breathe one word of our past association to anyone here, and the rumors about you will finally make it to DC.” His lips were within an inch of hers. “You do want Talon & Drake to pay your tuition for grad school, don’t you?”