“I prefer the term Federal Agent, actually,” she said mildly enough, though her heart was triple-timing in her chest. “When did you find out?”
Chenglei relaxed into his seat and toyed with the solid-looking brass ball on top of the staff. “Not soon enough. I would never have allowed you free rein in my home had I known.” He glanced up and snagged her gaze. “I’d hoped some time spent in a… less than ideal situation, shall we put it, would persuade you to turn over the information you stole from me. I can see now I was wrong. You remind me of the stray dog that used to roam my village at night. It was skittish, all skin and bones. I’d risk a beating in order to save some scraps from my dinner in the hopes of gaining the animal’s trust.”
He shook his head and straightened his tie over a rotund stomach. “Nothing worked. He’d been beaten too much to have faith in a human, even one as small as myself.” His lips quirked. “Then, one day, I was walking home from the poppy fields—my family’s only income came from the opium we collected—and the dog slunk from the bushes to follow me. I was so excited. I skipped all the way home and the dog never left my side. Mi madre, she was happy for me, she gave me a few strips of dried beef to share with my new pet. I couldn’t wait for my padre to get home, I was sure he’d be as happy as I was.”
He stared out the front window. His hand tightened around the ball of the cane, the bones of his knuckles popping beneath the skin like a skeleton’s. “Can you guess what happened next, Agent Holt? My beloved padre wasn’t as thrilled as I’d hoped. He saw the dog eating our meat and strode into the house without a word. The next thing I knew he came back out with the gun that always hung over the mantle and shot my dog.
“I learned a valuable lesson that day. Don’t trust anyone. It took me a couple of years, but my father paid for what he did. With his life.” He turned eyes devoid of emotion on Maggie and she shivered. “I tell you this because you need to understand, nothing will stand in the way of what I want. You’d do best to tell me where you hid my information, and if you’re lucky I may let you live.”
That wasn’t going to happen. Maggie knew as well as he did, the moment they got to wherever he was having them taken, she would be tortured until she gave up the info and then she would die. The time for action was now, before they left the city behind.
She fiddled with the button of her top and suppressed the triumph when his attention caught on the movement. Meanwhile, her other hand inched along the hem of her mini-skirt until she felt the telltale bump in the material—one missed by the bodyguard’s earlier inspection.
“Look,” she murmured, her voice masking the near-silent glide of the zipper that hid a two-inch shiv she’d fashioned from the underwire of her bra. “Surely we can come to an understanding. Let me hand over part of the intel so that my bosses are satisfied and you keep the rest.” She leaned against him and nestled her cheek against his. The scent of sandalwood overwhelmed her for a moment, sending her back to those days of hell when she’d had no control. She swallowed around the fear coating her tongue and whispered, “It could be a win for both of us.”
The blade caught in a thread and refused to slide free. Maggie could have cried, but she didn’t have that luxury. Without the element of surprise her plan had no chance of success. Her weapon was paltry compared to the guns she knew her opponents carried, not to mention the damage that brass ball, which was way too close for comfort, could do to her jaw.
Chenglei smiled against her cheek and tipped her head back for his kiss. “I’m sure we can work something out,” he said just before his lips touched hers like a poisoned apple.
Revulsion gave impetus to her fingers. The shiv broke free and without hesitation, Maggie plunged the tip into the side of the monster’s neck. Blood erupted from the wound. Chenglei fell back against the seat, his eyes bulging out of his head as he choked and tried to stem the flow from the jagged hole.
The bodyguard glanced over his shoulder and cursed, slamming the brakes so hard the car skidded out of control. Maggie grabbed for purchase with one hand and reached for the club with the other. She used the driver’s preoccupation to crash the ball over his head. He slumped over the steering wheel, the horn blaring out a strident warning that they were about to hit a wall.
Maggie shouted to the hysterical girl and braced for impact.
32
Frank fumed as the four-door sedan drove away with Magdalena. If he could have flown he’d have landed on top of that car, reached in through the window, and come out with his prize. He felt that territorial. Instead, his feet were cemented to the ground as the crime boss escaped and Maggie was left to handle him on her own. Again.
Talk about emasculating moments.
He hadn’t felt this helpless since his brother was attacked at school and left for dead. If he went after her too soon, he would be spotted, further endangering her life. If he waited too long, he risked losing sight of the car in the rabbit warren of alleys and streets comprising the inner city.
“Tell me what you’ve got,” he asked, demanding a sit-rep even though this wasn’t technically his mission.
“Heading east, a block and a half out and moving fast. You’re clear,” Adam said, his voice radiating frustration. He was too far away to do much more than watch her disappear and it left a sour taste in his mouth.
“Wait,” SAC Rhinehold chimed in. “He’s bound to have sentries posted to guard his back. You could walk into an ambush. Give us time to meet up. We’ll go after her together.”
It made sense, except every second he wasted gave that bastard, Chenglei, more time to hurt… No, he wasn’t going to think that way. Maggie was tough. She’d be fine. She had to be.
“Hurry your skinny ass up, O’Connor. We don’t have all day,” Rhinehold ordered, already charging across the street toward Frank, hobo skirt flapping around her calves.
“I’m on the way,” Adam panted. They could hear his boots clumping down the fire escape attached to the side of the building. “And what are you doing checking out my assets, Agent?”
Amanda grimaced, sliding to a halt in front of Frank. “That man’s ego is as legendary as his aim.”
Frank smiled absently. “He’s got a good heart, give him a chance.” Maybe if they circled wide and got in front of the getaway car they could round them off before they left the city. Nuevo Laredo was mostly controlled by the Zetas and Gulf cartels, which funny as it may sound, actually gave Maggie a better chance. The Sinaloa were hated in the region, old Chenglei would have to tap her cool in order to not get noticed while in the city.
“Give him a chance to what?” Amanda interrupted his musings. “He’s already broken the hearts of almost every female under the age of fifty within our field office. And now he thinks he should flirt with me until the one he really cares about—Agent Holt—returns? No, thank you.” She noticed his startled expression and sighed. “Sorry. TMI, I know you’re his friend. I want Maggie back as much as he does, it’s just… I wish….”
She turned as Adam jumped the last few treads of the stairs, secured his weapon over his shoulder and jogged towards the Buick. “It doesn’t matter. Forget I said anything. I’m not usually so unprofessional,” she muttered as Adam joined them. “Okay, we’re going after her, but no shots fired unless it’s on my command. You got it?” She stared a frowning O’Connor down.
“Yeah, whatever. Let’s go already. They’re getting away while we stand here chit-chatting.” He opened the back door to let her in—ever the gentleman, even in the midst of a temper—and then jumped into the front passenger seat himself, setting the rifle at his side and pulling a Glock from the holster under his arm. “You drive,” he said to Frank, then had the grace to look sheepish. “Sorry. I’m freaking out. We just got her back. Why the hell did I let her risk her life again?”
Frank’s temper rose. He slapped the roof of the car, causing the occupants to jump. “Who made you God? She’s a grown woman, what makes you think you could have stopped her?” He shook
his head and stomped around to the driver’s seat. “You keep stifling her, you’re going to lose her, man.”
“If you two are done throwing testosterone around do you think we could get back to providing reinforcement for Agent Holt?” Amanda growled from the backseat.
Frank started the car with a roar then looked over at his old friend. “I might as well tell you now, I plan on asking Magdalena out after this is over.” He shoved the gearshift into drive, gunned the engine, and took off with chirping tires.
Maggie came to with the acrid odors of an overheating radiator and the tang of fresh blood filling her senses. She blinked against the bright light stabbing her eyes and slowly sat up, holding trembling fingers to the back of her skull, then frowned when they came away wet. She was bleeding.
Everything came back in a rush and she jerked, turning to stare at the grotesque picture of Chenglei slouched awkwardly against the door, red rivulets dripping from the shiv sticking out like the bolt in Frankenstein’s neck. She shivered and looked for the two in the front seat. The guard was gone, his door dangling drunkenly off its hinges. Molly lay unconscious on the seat, her skin pale in the artificial light. Smoke curled from the crumpled hood nestled against a brick wall.
She coughed, wincing from the ache in her head, then pushed her own door open and eased out of the car. The distant sound of squealing tires ramped up her sluggish pulse. They had to get out of here before someone showed up to see what had happened.
“Molly,” she called, giving the girl’s cheek a tap. “Molly, wake up.”
She moaned and raised shaky arms to block her face. “Wha… what happened?” she whispered.
“We were in a car accident,” Maggie said, keeping an eye on the surrounding area, blessedly quiet for the moment. “You need to come with me. It’s too dangerous to stay here.”
Just then headlights pierced the darkness heading straight for them. Maggie dropped to a crouch, cursing her lack of a weapon. There was no time to search Chenglei. “Quick, check the floor for a pipe or something. Anything I can use to protect us.” And when the other girl didn’t move, “Now, Molly.”
There was a slim chance Frank and Adam had found her, but until she knew for sure it was best to be prepared.
“There’s nothing here,” a frantic Molly cried, leaning out the door to watch the approaching vehicle.
Maggie gave her shoulder a not-so-gentle push. “Get back inside. Do you want to get shot?” She shook her head as the kid scrambled onto the passenger side floor and wished for half a second she could join her there.
And then the car skidded to a stop and there was no more time for useless hopes.
33
Frank’s headlights picked out Maggie huddled on the ground and slammed on his brakes. She was huddled on the ground near the open driver’s door of the other car, which, going by the steam and crumpled hood, had obviously collided with the building.
“I see her,” he said, throwing open his door and ignoring all his training to dash to her side. “Maggie, honey, are you okay?” He knelt and tugged her shaking body into his arms, vaguely aware of Adam and Amanda joining them. She flinched when he touched her scalp and he realized she’d been injured.
“She’s hurt,” he rasped. “Grab my go-bag.” He tipped her head and stared into dazed brown eyes. “We’ve got you now, you’re safe. Do you understand what I’m saying? You’re safe.” He could see when the shock receded and reality kicked in—she jerked, her face twisting, eyes wide, as she tried to look into the car.
“Is he there?” she cried. “I think I killed him, but I’m not sure. Don’t let him get away. Please, don’t let him escape.”
Frank glanced at Adam’s worried eyes, then Amanda backing out of the rear seat. She stood and gave her head a slight shake, her expression grim. “He’s dead.”
“What about the driver?” Adam asked, leaning over Frank’s shoulder to give her arm a gentle squeeze. “Did you see which way he ran?”
Maggie gazed up at him like a lost child, then seemed to gather her strength, temporarily donning her agent’s hat. “No. He was gone when I came to, but there’s someone hiding in the front seat who might know more.”
Frank tensed and grabbed Maggie’s forearms, prepared to cover her body with his if needed. Adam jumped in from the side, also covering Maggie from above as they searched the dark interior.
A hand lifted from the passenger side floor and a small female voice sobbed, “Don’t hurt me. I didn’t mean to do it. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
Adam glanced back, then holstered his weapon before reaching in to help the girl out of the car. “Take it easy. No one’s going to hurt you. Aren’t you one of Maggie’s girls?”
The teen was too busy bawling into her hands to properly answer. Amanda sighed and wrapped a comforting arm around the girl. “Calm down, now. Everything’s going to be all right. We’ll get you home to your family soon, okay?”
Maggie gave the girl an inscrutable look. “Not too soon. Molly here decided it was a good idea to play both sides against the middle. If she doesn’t want to spend the rest of her days as a guest in one of Mexico’s lovely prisons, she’s going to want to turn State’s witness when we go to trial.”
Frank hid his grin. It would take a lot more than a near-death experience to stop his woman—he hoped—from doing her job.
“But,” Molly stuttered. “If I say anything they’ll kill me.”
Amanda looked into her eyes. “What you did was wrong. The only way to make it up to your family and your country is by telling us everything you know. Do you think you can do that?”
Molly tried to look defiant, but underneath was a scared young woman. She sagged and nodded. “Yeah, sure. Whatever you want. Can we go home now?”
Amanda smiled and it changed her face from interesting to fascinating. “Yes. I think we’re all ready for that.” She looked at Adam. “Coming?”
Adam stared at her as though seeing her for the first time, then nodded. “Hell, yeah. Let’s blow this popsicle stand.” He leaned down to give Maggie a peck on the cheek. “Glad to have you back, kid.” They exchanged a long look, then Adam sauntered away. “The crime-fighting duo wins the day,” he sang.
Frank stared after his friend and wondered if they’d ever become best buds again. He’d crossed an invisible line staking a claim on Maggie the way he had, but he couldn’t be sorry. The woman in his arms had captivated him from the very first moment they’d met. He wanted, needed, a chance to see where it might lead.
He stood and helped her to her feet. She wobbled and he hurried to wrap a careful arm around her waist. “Ever been to Texas?” he asked.
Maggie stared up at him, her dark head barely reaching his shoulder. “No,” she answered, her voice soft. “But I think I might like to.”
It was a start.
They had a long road ahead of them, but that was okay, he could wait.
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My Baby Wrote Me A Letter
A family's brush with the past will threaten the fabric of their lives.
Eight months pregnant and her Navy husband away on a mission, Grace Freeman craves the security of her childhood home in Canada.
When a letter written by her long-lost mother is found in an old writing desk it creates a tear in the fabric of her family.
Can Grace find a way to bring peace to those she loves, or will a message from the past destroy their future?
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Afterword
Reviews are the lifeblood of any successful author. Without you, we can’t be heard.
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Thank you,
Jacquie Biggar
Jacqbiggar.com
About the Author
JACQUIE BIGGAR is a USA Today bestselling author of Romantic Suspense who loves to write about tough, alpha males and strong, contemporary women willing to show their men that true power comes from love.
She is the author of the popular Wounded Hearts series and has just started a new series in paranormal suspense, Mended Souls.
She has been blessed with a long, happy marriage and enjoys writing romance novels that end with happily-ever-afters.
Jacquie lives in paradise along the west coast of Canada with her family and loves reading, writing, and flower gardening. She swears she can't function without coffee, preferably at the beach with her sweetheart. :)
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Preview Tempted by Mr. Wrong
Jason eyed the diminutive firebrand, fighting the urge to smile when the situation was anything but funny. Tammy-Jo had more spunk in her little finger than half the men in the SEC.
Maggie's Revenge Page 14
