“Government or private?”
No answer.
Noah blew out a sigh. The longer this took, the more Samara would suffer. Noah slammed the door on that thought. He had to concentrate on the here and now. Thinking about what Samara might be going through would destroy his concentration. He was the only one who could save her and he needed this man’s cooperation to find where they’d taken her.
Leaning forward, Noah laid it on the line. “Here’s the deal. These bastards have kidnapped at least thirteen young girls over the past couple of months. I believe they’ll take a few more and then gather them together at one meeting place. We plan to find that place, rescue the girls, and take down the organization.”
He knew full well he’d just revealed information that could blow their entire operation. That didn’t worry him. If this guy wasn’t undercover for a good reason, the knowledge he gained from this conversation wouldn’t matter. He’d never be set free.
“If there’s someone you’re trying to help, work with us to find her before it’s too late.”
A long, jagged breath sawed from the injured man’s lungs. He swallowed hard. “My sister, Lara. She was taken six weeks ago in Macon, Georgia. She’s fourteen.”
Noah sat up. “How’d you find them?”
“I have some contacts. They hooked me up. I’ve been involved in three of the kidnappings.” He closed his eyes and whispered, “Did my best to make sure the girls aren’t hurt. They’re not raping them. Just storing them until they’re ready for transport.”
“Do you know where the meeting place will be?”
“An old fishing camp outside of Monarch, Mississippi. We were supposed to head there after we got the girl.”
Sliding his hand down his face, Noah breathed out a ragged sigh. He should have known Mitch would go home.
“How many men are involved?”
“Hard to say … seen three of them.” He glared through swollen eyes. “One of them looks a hell of a lot like you.”
Noah stood, pulled a knife from his jacket, and cut the ropes holding the man. He collapsed on the floor.
“Take it easy, man. We’ll get you some help.”
“Gabe, get in here!” Noah shouted.
Gabe stalked into the room. “What the hell did you do?”
“I’ll tell you in a minute. Let’s get …” He looked down at the half-conscious man lying on the cold concrete floor. “What’s your name?”
“Justin Kelly,” he mumbled.
Noah nodded. “Let’s get some medical care for Mr. Kelly.”
Jordan appeared at the door. “What’s going on?”
“Get as many people as you can together. We need to go through some scenarios.”
“You know where Samara is?”
“Yes.”
“Thank God.”
While Jordan pulled out his cellphone and began the task of gathering LCR operatives, Noah helped Gabe carry Justin to a cot in another room.
With barely a glance at the injured man, Eden turned to Noah. “What’s going on?”
“I know where Samara is. … I’m heading there tonight.”
She shook her head. “I know you feel responsible for Samara, but you’re in no condition to go after her. Jordan and I will—”
“No, I’m the only one who can carry this off.”
Eden looked at him with narrow-eyed suspicion, reading between the lines. “I knew something was going on. I think it’s time you told us exactly why you’ve been so heavily involved in this case, when another operative could have just as easily handled it.”
The time had come to reveal all. “Get Jordan and come to Samara’s apartment. I need to grab some things. While I get ready, I’ll tell you.”
“You’re sure this is the one?”
Richard nodded, ever eager to seem agreeable. “Oh yeah, boss. She told Robert she was there to meet Brian.”
Mitchell Stoddard scratched the stubble on his jaw as he stared down at the unconscious girl. She kind of looked like the picture she’d sent him, but her hair had been shorter and she had more meat on her bones in the picture. He kicked at her shoulder with his boot, knowing she wouldn’t wake up for a while. She seemed younger than her picture too … and almost too skinny.
Some of the pervs they’d sell her to went for the real young skinny ones, so getting rid of her wouldn’t be a problem. If that’s what he decided to do. But if she had information on Noah McCall, just how much would his boss rather have the information than another dumb, skinny-assed girl? He was willing to bet a lot.
Thomas Bennett hated Noah McCall and his no-good do-good outfit. With good reason. They’d fucked up everything last year, forcing Thomas to go underground. His boss hadn’t been happy. Having his boss unhappy was not a good thing. Mitchell might never admit it to another person, but if there was one man who scared him, it was Thomas Bennett. After watching Bennett de-ball a man with a giant knife, he had a respect for the man and his knife. Mitch’s balls shriveled as he remembered the poor bastard’s screech of agony.
He’d decided then and there to always be on his boss’s good side. Getting the whereabouts of Noah McCall would definitely put him there.
Turning back to Richard, he growled, “Go put her in the supply cabin.”
“But there’s no bed in there.”
“Yeah. So?”
Richard was dumb as a mud ball but had enough sense not to question him any further. Instead, he hefted Carly, or whatever the hell the bitch’s name was, over his massive shoulder and stomped out the door.
Mitch lay back into his leather easy chair and gazed around his cabin. He’d fixed it up a little, knowing he’d be here awhile. The place had gone downhill since nobody used the fishing camp anymore, making it the perfect place to store the merchandise until it was ready for shipment. Besides that, this place brought back good memories. Just him and his daddy. Weekends full of hunting, fishing, and fucking. What his daddy always called the three essentials of life. Damn, they’d had some good times.
Those long weekends would begin early Friday morning. Most times his mama and brother would still be sleeping. Even during the school year, his daddy would let him go. His brother never got invited, which made him enjoy himself even more.
After they picked up their supplies, his daddy would go to one of the whorehouses on the east side of town and find two ripe women out to make an extra buck. Course, they never expected some of the rough stuff, but that was half the fun … surprising them.
They’d all pile into Daddy’s truck and be at the campground just in time for breakfast. Then, their weekend could begin. Damn he missed his daddy.
The old man would have loved to get in on this setup. Good money and all the women he could want. He’d died before his time. Stupid drunken brawl at his favorite hangout. Mitch had been down in Texas hiding out from the law at the time or he would’ve come back and killed the sons of bitches responsible.
Ah well, it was over and done with and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do other than live the life his daddy would’ve wanted for him. Last time he’d talked to the boss, he’d indicated that Mitch might be ready for bigger and better things. He kind of liked the idea of settling down in one place, making a name for himself. No law or do-gooder could touch him. He’d be indestructible.
His daddy would be proud.
Nausea soared and roared like tidal waves as consciousness returned. She’d barely had the chance to register the identity of her abductor before a noxious-smelling cloth covered her mouth and darkness swamped her once more.
Raising what felt like a watermelon-sized head from the floor, she searched blearily around. She was in some sort of cabin. A rickety old picnic table and three chairs took up most of a minuscule kitchen that looked like it hadn’t been used in a decade. Two ratty-looking easy chairs sat in the middle of what was apparently a small living room. The wooden floor held garbage from fast-food restaurants. A foul odor permeated the room, causing another gia
nt wave of nausea to almost overwhelm her. Swallowing hard, she leaned against the wall and took a moment to get her bearings and gather her composure.
The room might be filthy, vile, and disgusting, but it had one good feature. She was the only person in it.
Teeth clenched together to control the pain in her head, she managed to get to her knees, then to her feet. Swaying like a drunken sailor on a storm-tossed ship, she pressed against the rough-hewn wall behind her for balance. Blowing out a long breath to gather her wits and courage, she took a tentative step forward and grimaced at the creak of the wood floor.
“Going somewhere?”
Samara whirled around and then gasped as the room continued to spin around her. Nausea and dizziness swamped her with a vengeance. Holy hell, there was no way she’d escape feeling as though she could keel over at any time.
Wood screeched against wood as he pulled out a chair and placed it in front of her. “Have a seat and let’s get acquainted.”
Looking everywhere but into his too-familiar face, she eased into the chair. This man had to be Noah’s twin brother. There was no other explanation. Why hadn’t Noah told her? Would it have mattered? Would it have changed what happened? Probably not. But the worst had happened and now she felt blindsided and so damn disoriented it was hard to think straight.
Did this man know his brother was out to get him?
Taking a deep breath, she raised her head to look at him. Until she knew what she faced, she saw no reason to stop pretending. She was a teenager who’d planned to meet another teen by the name of Brian Sanders.
“So were you just pretending to be Brian?”
The smile he flashed her was so much like Noah’s, a sob built in her chest she had to bite her lip to suppress.
“Yeah, that’s me … the jock de jour. Though now that we’ve met in person, you can call me my preferred name … Mitchell.”
“Why did you lie?”
A calculating scowl replaced the smile. “Princess, don’t play games with me. You know exactly what and who I am. And I ask the questions, not you. Are you part of the operation that Noah McCall put together or was he using you as bait?”
“Who’s Noah McCall?”
The back of his hand flew at her face so fast, she had no chance to avoid it. “I said, I ask the questions. You know damn good and well who Noah McCall is, so don’t be giving me any of your lying shit.”
Tears blurring her eyes from her throbbing cheekbone, Samara pressed her lips together to stop them from trembling. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was supposed to meet a guy named Brian Sanders at that bar. I spilled a drink on me. A waitress was showing me where to clean up and then someone knocked me out.”
“And you’re telling me you didn’t scream the name Noah?”
“I might have screamed ‘no.’”
A broad, swarthy hand scratched at his beard stubble, as if trying to determine the validity of her answer. They couldn’t prove Noah had anything to do with her. The longer she could put them off, the better the chances of Noah finding her. She refused to ask herself how he would know where to look, if he was even alive.
As his black eyes seared her, Samara worked hard to look like a scared teenager who only wanted to go home. Which wasn’t really far from the truth.
A smirk appeared on Mitchell’s face. Then he gave a slow, taunting shake of his head. “You can’t lie worth shit, darlin’. I know enough about LCR people to know you’re not one of them. Which means he hired you for this particular gig. Why?”
Samara remained silent. Since whatever lie she told wouldn’t be believed, and she refused to tell him the truth, her only option was silence.
His stare continued for another long minute. Then Mitchell stood and looked over her shoulder. “Come on in, boys.”
Samara’s head jerked around. The two men who’d abducted her headed toward her. Their knowing leers giving her a good idea of what was to come.
“Strip her,” Mitchell ordered.
Jumping from the chair, Samara took two steps to the door before a hand yanked on her hair, stopping her in midflight. She slammed back into the mountainous man. The other man came at her from the side. Samara whimpered. Agonizing terror took control of any courage she’d been able to gather.
Closing her eyes against the horror ahead of her, a small sane part of her prayed for the guts and fortitude to survive.
She screamed at the first slice of the knife.
nine
The acid stench of defeat and despair grew stronger as Noah made his way toward his boyhood home. Getting within a hundred miles of Monarch, Mississippi, was something he’d gladly travel across the globe to avoid. Avoidance now was impossible. Samara was in that hellhole and the brother he’d planned to bring to justice was with her. What Mitch had done to her, Noah refused to think about.
Samara was strong, a survivor. She would do what she had to do until he could get to her. And she knew full well he would move heaven and earth to save her. He might have treated her badly in many ways, but rescuing people was his job and he knew of no one more important to rescue.
Jordan and Eden had been furious when he told them the full story. Eden felt she’d been betrayed. She had tried to understand his reasons for keeping this to himself, but he’d seen her hurt.
Last year, when Noah had realized his brother was working for Bennett, he’d been stunned. Not by Mitchell’s involvement in the sleaze of human trafficking, but how close he was to him. For years, Noah had searched for his brother, always seeming to be just within reach but never catching him. There was little Mitchell hadn’t done and Noah knew almost all of it. The only thing he hadn’t known was where his brother was hiding.
When Bennett had gone underground, so had Mitch. Since he’d never been so close before, he worked endlessly trying to uncover their location. When this new Internet scam popped up, Noah had paid careful attention. Bennett’s stink had been all over it. Wherever Bennett was, Mitch wouldn’t be far behind. Evidently Thomas Bennett had become Mitch’s replacement for dear old Dad. Made sense. Bennett and Farrell Stoddard had so much in common.
Well before LCR came into existence, Noah had planned for the day he would bring his brother to justice. Raping Rebecca had just been a starting point for Mitchell.
After Noah’s release from prison, he’d had but one goal, making Mitchell pay. Fortunately, his friend and mentor, Milo Evans, had helped him see that he possessed much more potential than just a thirst for revenge. Through the long years of creating LCR and developing its people, Noah still had full intentions of finding Mitchell and putting him where he belonged.
With that in mind, he’d kept a tight cover for Michael Stoddard, Mitchell Stoddard’s twin. Records indicated that Michael had been in and out of prison for various offenses, including assault, robbery, rape, and attempted rape. The records weren’t real, but he was one of the few who knew that. If anyone tried to find Michael Stoddard, they would only find information about a career criminal with a remarkable and impressive rap sheet. Noah had known full well that was the only thing that would ever impress his brother.
The one thing he’d never planned was to involve an innocent. Using Samara to set the trap had made such sense at the time. And it would have worked if he hadn’t screwed it up. He’d watched Samara sit at that table, nervously sipping her drink, and he’d been filled with the overwhelming urge to get her out of there. Seeing her in that filthy place, knowing he was responsible for her being there had suddenly been too much. He’d gotten up and said something to Joseph that either they’d been made or something had happened. That’s when the men had grabbed Samara. The look of sheer terror on her face would be something he’d remember to his death. He was responsible for that terror and would fight both heaven and hell to make it up to her.
Surviving wasn’t even an issue. This battle with Mitchell had been building to a fatal ending for years. Noah was sure of only two things: when this was over, Samara would be
alive and Mitchell would be brought to justice. And if that got Noah killed, perhaps there was justice in that, too.
Huddled on her side in a corner, Samara shivered from shock, pain, revulsion, and anger. They’d sliced her clothes off with knives and then tore the rest with their hands. Once nude, she’d been pushed, shoved, and thrown between the three men as if she were a ball. With each pass, they grabbed, pinched, and slapped anything and everything they wanted. And with each toss, they’d screamed obscenities and questions regarding Noah McCall. … Who was he, where was he, how did she know him?
At first, she’d been so terrified she had barely managed to do anything but cry and scream. When she realized her tears and terror only amused them, she’d forced herself to stop. Then the anger had emerged. After that, she began to fight. Each time she was thrown to another man, she did her damnedest to inflict some kind of harm. Scratching, punching, and kicking. They seemed to enjoy this too until she’d kicked gorilla man deep in the balls. She saw fury and pain flash in his eyes right before his fist came at her. Then there was only blackness.
Chills shuddering through her, Samara pulled up to a sitting position and wrapped her arms around her legs to keep warm. She was still nude, covered with bruises, cuts, and scratches. Everything hurt. But she had been lucky. They hadn’t raped her.
Why, she didn’t know. She only knew that though she’d been violated, it hadn’t been as bad as it could have been. Now she just needed to figure out how to escape.
Hands pressed against the wall, wincing with every movement, she rose to her feet. Her eyes swept frantically around the small, stark room, hoping to find something to put on. She would escape, clothes or not, but she greatly preferred clothes if she was going to be traipsing through the woods.
Spotting a man’s shirt on the back of a chair, she hobbled over to it, her ankle throbbing with every step. That last kick had cost her. Ignoring the disgusting body odor emanating from it, she eased her arms into the shirt, pleased it was large enough to hang almost to her knees. Shoes would be good, but she’d lost hers somewhere between Birmingham and here. Finding a pair of size six narrow lying around this dump seemed doubtful.
RETURN TO ME Page 11
