Secret Rendezvous

by Sharon C. Cooper

  Tied to a hard chair that was about as comfortable as a bed of nails, she wiggled around to loosen the rope that bound her wrists behind her back. Instead of loosening, the rope grew tighter and pain shot up her arms. Dammit, the ropes wouldn’t budge. Her legs were bound at the ankles and whoever had tied her up knew what they were doing.

  She glanced around the dingy room, willing herself not to get sick by the stale, musty smell of the distressed space. A ratty brown-striped sofa to her right looked as if it had seen better days, while a small wooden table sat alongside it, packets of bright colored pills littered across the tabletop. She turned slightly, trying not to jostle her head for fear it would split open from the pain. There had to be something with a sharp edge that she could use to cut through the ropes. The desk, a few feet away, had rounded corners so it wouldn’t work, but maybe she could use the metal bookshelf to her left. Now, if only she could get to it without toppling over.

  “¡Llegas tarde!”

  She stopped moving and strained to listen to three or four voices coming from the other side of the wall. They spoke in rapid Spanish and all at the same time. Besides hearing that someone was late, she couldn’t follow the conversation as their voices grew louder and angrier. The arguing didn’t last long before she heard furniture being moved, and a door slammed, then there was silence. It was at that moment Alandra noticed the embedded door near one of the bookshelves, maybe an escape route if she could get out of the ropes. After several more attempts, her efforts were proving to be useless.

  Alandra rested her head against the wall and wondered how she got herself into this mess, and now she had pulled Quinn into it. What I would give to be in his strong arms right now. If all had gone according to plan, that’s exactly where she would be. She loved everything about him from his quick wit to the way his brain operated like a computer. There was a commanding air of self-confidence and danger about him, intimidating the most treacherous criminal, while attracting women without him even trying – including her. He towered over the average man by at least eight inches, with skin the color of smooth mahogany, and the most beautiful dreadlocks she’d ever seen on a man.

  She would never forget the first and only time they worked together. They had been on a joint op, a special – personal – project assigned by the president of the United States to attend an international summit in South Africa. They’d posed as a married couple and Alandra had gathered intelligence on their host’s seedy business affairs. Quinn’s responsibility was to provide her with protection if needed. A warm feeling surrounded her as she remembered their first intimate encounter. Looking back, someone probably should’ve provided her protection from him.

  Who could resist a man like him? His masterful hands had undone her blouse, removed her skirt, and began a lust-arousing exploration of her sex-starved body, before she had a chance to protest. His skilled lips, fit for a god, traced heated kisses from the sensitive area behind her ear, on down to the very essence of her womanhood, and all common sense had escaped her. Sensations she’d never experienced before ripped through her with such force, he had her screaming his name over and over again, begging for him to stop but hoping he wouldn't. That night he’d brought her to the most explosive orgasm that had ever racked her body, and she’d been addicted to him ever since.

  I have to get out of here. A cold shiver gripped Alandra with such force she jerked her head up, regretting the sudden move. Her jacket. She didn’t have her jacket. She looked around the room in search of it, but nothing…not even her backpack. That meant they’d probably found her cell phone. Shit. Hopefully Quinn had been correct in saying that he’d take care of it.

  “Ahh, I see you are awake, princesa.”

  She glanced at the door in the far right corner of the room. So this is Orlando Medina, leader of Los Hermanos. She’d seen several photos of him prior to heading to Mexico. He was good-looking in a roguish kind of way, it was a shame he was such a prick. Just under six feet tall, he sported an expensive looking suit that appeared tailor made for him. His shiny black hair, brushed away from his face, nipped the top of his expensive shirt collar. What stood out the most to Alandra though were his eyes - dark, cold, and intense.

  She swallowed hard as he made his way across the room to stand before her. Los Hermanos was the most feared drug cartel in all of Mexico. Based on the reports she had read prior to the op, Medina had taken over when his father was killed five years earlier. Now, at only twenty-seven, he was one of the most powerful men in Guerrero.

  “Muy bonita,” he said. The back of his long, cold fingers slithered down her cheek. “You are even more beautiful awake.”

  She turned away, but he quickly grabbed her hair and forced her head back.

  “You look at me when I talk to you!”

  Alandra cut her eyes at him. If looks could kill he would’ve been burnt alive, his ashes heaped on the floor. After a stare-down, he released her hair and shoved her head forward.

  “Remove the gag,” Medina ordered one of his me. He slid a wood chair across the floor and sat it in front of her. Seconds ticked by before he spoke. “Who are you, and why are you in Guerrero?”

  Alandra twisted her mouth in an effort to work out the cramp before she spoke. “My name is Selena McKenzie. I’m a teacher at—”

  Medina backhanded her and pain seared her jaw. Asshole. The bastard was lucky her hands and ankles were bound.

  “I will ask you again. Who are you?”

  “I told you,” she said through gritted teeth. “My name is Selena McKenzie. I’m a teacher from Philadel—”

  He raised his hand to hit her again, but she charged at him, chair and all, ramming her head into his face. Though she crashed to the floor, the satisfaction of knowing she’d caught him off guard would be worth any other pain he inflicted. The spark of victory was short-lived when one of Medina’s men smashed the butt of his rifle against her temple. Her face slammed against the floor. Stars twinkled in front of her eyes, and a burning sensation engulfed her head. It took everything she had to hold her tears in check. No way in hell, would she let him see her cry.

  In a fog, she saw Medina stand, adjust his suit jacket and dab at his bloodied nose with a tissue. “If I did not already have something planned for you, you would be dead now. Your American friend got away, but you will not.”

  American friend? She fought off the relentless pain that threatened to make her black out. There was someone else in Guerrero? Who? She shook her head, trying to keep her eyes open.

  “Leave her,” Medina said when one of his guards started to lift her and the chair upright.

  “I have some things to take care of, Ms. Pargas.” She looked at him through lowered lashes, shocked by his use of her real name. “Yes, I know who you are. And when I return, you will learn who I am.”

  ****

  Anger and fear fueled Quinn’s efforts to get to Alandra. The fact that Guerrero, Mexico had recently made national news with the killing of sixteen people believed to be the work of Los Hermanos made Quinn even more anxious to find her. He’d called in a number of favors and was now en route to Coyuca de Catalán with José flying the helicopter.

  José Delgado, an expert in explosives and one of the best men Quinn had ever worked with, retired from the Navy a few years back after ruining his knee during an op. As far as Quinn was concerned once a SEAL always a SEAL. He had no doubt the two of them together could wreak havoc on the town if it deemed necessary to get Alandra out safely.

  “She must be a helluva woman, Captain,” José said over the roar of the helo. After all these years, he often referred to Quinn by the title he’d held during their Navy days.

  Quinn glanced at his friend. “How do you know it’s a woman?” When Quinn arrived in Acapulco, he hadn’t had much chance to give details about the person they were to rescue; he’d been focused on making sure José had all the supplies.

  “Because we’ve been on some deadly assignments together, hermano, and I have never
felt the tension that’s vibing off of you right now. It has to be a woman. Are you sure your head is going to be in this?”

  “I’m cool.” Quinn knew better than anyone that the best way to screw up a mission was to be mentally preoccupied, which was one of many reasons he’d never gotten serious with a woman. Too much of a distraction.

  He sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. The past few hours had been hell. Not a minute had gone by that he didn’t think of Alandra. Her call had dropped during a fight. Either the phone had been damaged, or her attackers had found it. Or worse.

  They were now ten minutes outside of Coyuca de Catalán. Quinn drew comfort in knowing that though he was familiar with the area, José knew the roads better, and he hoped the informant would provide the information needed for them to get in and out quickly. Informant or no informant Quinn planned to start his search the moment nightfall hit.

  “So are you sure we can trust this informant of yours?”

  “I’d trust him with my life. He has his finger on the pulse of the city and has access to inside information. He also thinks he knows where they are holding your ‘friend’.” José glanced at Quinn and grinned. “Okay, so maybe that’s how I knew she was una mujer. He says this woman is American, and, well…muy bonita.”

  Quinn’s eyes narrowed. “He’s seen her? How?’

  José shrugged. “I only ask for facts, not the details. He should have the information on her location once we get there.”

  A short while later José landed the helicopter on the outskirts of town, near a grassy mountainside overlooking the city. Getting into operative mode should’ve been second nature for Quinn, but this was no ordinary op. He had a lot riding on the success of this mission and the sooner they got started, the better. They grabbed their gear and hurried toward a four door, black Silverado truck with tinted windows. As they approached, a short Hispanic man who looked to be in his mid-twenties with a long, jagged scar from the tip of his left eyebrow to the center of his chin jumped out to greet them.

  “Hola, Miguel,” José said and shook the man’s hand. “Este es mi amigo, del que te hable y mencione.” He looked at Quinn.

  “Captain, this is Miguel. He will help us find your friend.”

  The men shook hands and Miguel directed them to the truck where Quinn sat in the backseat.

  “Where are we headed?” Quinn asked.

  “My house,” Miguel answered. “I have a blueprint of the building where they are keeping your friend. I will tell you everything I know.”

  Quinn asked a few more questions while he took in the view of stucco houses with clay roofs built into the lush hillside. Fifteen minutes into the drive, he half listened from the backseat as the two friends talked about the state of the city and the violence over the past few months, which was the last thing he wanted to hear about. The closer they got to the city, the more dilapidated the homes appeared and the flatter the land. They soon pulled off onto a narrow dirt road, which seemed to lead to nowhere, but eventually led to a small house that looked more like a hut.

  “This way,” Miguel said when they exited the truck.

  They walked into the small space, which felt cramped with both Quinn and José filling the room. Quinn dropped his bag near the door. The sparsely furnished, one window room barely looked lived in with its bare walls, kitchen table and a couple of chairs in the corner. There was a short hall nearby and Quinn assumed it led to a bathroom and maybe a bedroom or two.

  Miguel directed them to the table where they stood around and studied the blueprint he had spread out. A map of the city leaned against a nearby chair.

  “The building she’s in looks like a factory that manufactures electronic parts,” Miguel said in perfect English. “But it’s not. It is a warehouse where Los Hermanos uses half naked women to process illegal drugs.” He stole a glance at both men. “They have her.”

  Quinn cursed under his breath and jerked away from the table. “If those assholes have laid a finger on her I will blow up this whole fuckin’ town!”

  Miguel stared at him while José shook his head and directed his attention back to the blueprint.

  Quinn paced the small space, clenching and unclenching his fists. It had been a helluva long day and he was at his breaking point. He stopped and leaned against a wall, his arms hanging at his sides as he breathed in and out to get himself under control. He’d had a feeling Los Hermanos were behind this kidnapping, but a part of him didn’t want to believe it. She was in the hands of men who couldn’t give a damn about human life, and Quinn would shoot anyone who got in his way of taking her home.

  He pushed away from the wall. “Miguel, I want to know every damn thing you know about this place, how many people are in the building and where I can find Orlando Medina. His ass is mine.”

  “Uh, señor, these people are very dangerous.”

  “So is he, Miguel.” José reached for the map. “So is he.”

  Quinn bombarded Miguel with more questions about the building and its contents. Always conscious of women and children in dangerous situations, they would make sure the workers were evacuated while Quinn searched for Alandra. They discussed the building’s location and the best route to get to it. Miguel described the reception area on the first floor. He also explained that the drugs were manufactured and packaged in the back of the building. The second floor housed offices.

  “She is in this room,” Miguel pointed to a spot in the right hand corner of the building on the second floor.

  Quinn pierced him with a deadly gaze. How was it that Miguel knew so much about Alandra’s location? If he had anything to do with her being captured, he would choke the life out of him. “How do you know?” he asked in a controlled voice.

  Miguel seemed to notice the lethalness in Quinn’s eyes because his own eyes grew wide. He stepped back and raised his hands, palms out. “I had nothing to do with any of this. I have heard from a very reliable source that this is where she is, but she is heavily guarded.”

  Quinn released a breath, his nerves on edge. He didn’t miss the skeptical look from José who probably thought he wouldn’t be able to keep it together long enough to get to Alandra.

  “I’m cool,” he said to his friend who glared at him.

  José returned his attention to the items on the table. “Here’s what we’re gonna do.”

  Chapter Three

  “¡Despiertate! ¡Despiertate! Wake up!” Alandra heard someone yelling.

  A pounding headache, exhaustion and hunger kept her from moving, but her eyes popped open when someone dragged her chair upright, jostling her head. No soon had she sat up then bile surged to her throat, and she turned in time to hurl what little was in her belly. She hadn’t felt this sick since the time she had pneumonia, and spent several days in the hospital. After another round of vomiting, she wiped the edge of her mouth on her shoulder before training her attention on Medina and his goon.

  “Do you feel better, chica?” Medina signaled his guy to move the chair away from the mess she’d made on the floor.

  She didn’t bother responding. How did he think she felt after being bound for hours without food or water? All she wanted to do was get the hell out of there.

  “I had planned to send you back to the U.S. in a body bag with a note, but I have a better idea. I wonder how much you are worth to your government.”

  Alandra knew the U.S. didn’t negotiate with their enemies. Sure there would appear to be negotiations, but there would only be words exchanged, not money.

  She didn’t know how much longer she could hang on. If only she could shake her pounding headache, then maybe she could come up with a plan to escape. But weariness had settled into her body hours ago. She had no idea how much time had passed, and could barely keep her eyes opened.

  As her head began to sag and her eyes drooped a nearby explosion, powerful enough to shake the building, caught her attention. The men jumped and looked around frantically. The lights flickered and plaster from t
he ceiling crumbled to the floor. Alandra heard women screaming and people running. As discretely as she could, she moved her wrists around in an effort to loosen the ropes, drawing energy from desperation.

  “Ve y mira que paso.” Medina ordered, sending his guard to find out what happened. He glared at her. “If your friend has come back, you both will die.”

  Alandra frowned. So she hadn’t dreamed him saying something about her friend. “I don’t understand. I don’t have any friends here.”

  “Of course you would say that, but it is too bad that he was not as concerned for you. He squealed like a chica when I threatened to cut off his hands and send them back to the U.S.”

  Before Alandra could question him more, an alarm blared. Seconds later Medina’s guard charged into the room. “Tenemos un problema.”

  A problem? It sounded like more than a problem.

  Medina cast an angry look her way. “You will be sorry if I find that you have had anything to do with this,” he said before he and his guard rushed out the door.

  “Wait! Don’t leave me here!”

  ****

  “Tell me where she is now, or the person who finds your body will also find your goddamn brains splattered against that wall over there,” Quinn growled, the barrel of his gun shoved against a guard’s temple.

  The man, at least a foot shorter than Quinn and half his size dropped a duffle bag loaded with money, and lifted his hands.

  “I cannot,” he said in broken English. “They will kill me.”

  “You have one second, asshole, to tell me where she is or I will kill you. Your choice.”

  He pointed to a wall behind them. “There.”

  Quinn glanced around. The blueprint hadn’t shown another room. He turned back to the man, hit him over the head with his gun, and let him crash to the floor.