Deadly Ties

by Vicki Hinze

  “Yes! Did you hear that, Selene? Someone will be searching for her.” Gwen clapped her hands softly. “Finally, things are looking up.”

  “Are you going to tell me what’s going on here?” Lisa swept her damp hair back from her face. It was hot in the truck, and the air was stale and stank of sweat.

  “We’re not positive,” Selene said quickly.

  “I’m positive.” Gwen shushed Selene. “I know what I heard, and you’re not doing anyone any favors by soft-pedalling things. Just tell her the truth.”

  “Excuse me for trying to make it easier on her. She’s had her heart broken with her mother, suffered kidnapping and abuse, and now this.” Selene waved in a wide arc. “That’s a lot to take in, Gwen. I don’t care how strong you are; it’s hard.”

  “I know it is. I’m going through it too—”

  Lisa’s patience snapped. “Will you two stop it, and please just tell me what you know?”

  Selene tossed her long and dark curly hair back behind her shoulder. “Both Gwen and I have heard things. When the men put her in the truck—”

  “I fainted.” Gwen shrugged, but tears rolled down her face. “Brave and glamorous, huh?”

  Understandable, Lisa thought but kept quiet. If she interrupted, who knew how long it would take to get back to this point? More delays she didn’t need.

  Selene went on, the hand at her throat trembling. “One goon told the other one Gwen was a beauty. Gwen heard more.”

  “What more?”

  “That I’d bring in a fortune,” Gwen shrieked.

  Lisa dragged in a sharp breath. “You’re telling me they’re actually going to—”

  “Yes!” Gwen grabbed Lisa’s hand and squeezed it hard. “We’re going to be sold!”

  Lisa couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. This wasn’t possible, it couldn’t be happening. It had to be a bad dream. Any second she would wake up and discover none of it was true.

  “We don’t know who they are, but that’s what they said they would do.”

  Selene frowned. “I’m so naive; I thought maybe I was being abducted for ransom. But no.” Her voice went shrill. “Can you believe that? Sold?”

  As absurd as it sounded, being held for ransom appealed more than the thought of being sold. As the shock settled in, Lisa found her voice. “So they just snatch women they think they can sell somewhere?”

  Selene looked at Gwen, clearly seeking reinforcement. That she didn’t want to be the bearer of more bad news didn’t alarm Lisa. Already she had revealed herself as a gentle, protective type. But Gwen, straight talking and blunt, returning the look, alarmed Lisa immensely. “What are you not telling me?”

  “We aren’t holding out. Honest. We just haven’t gotten to it yet.”

  “Well, get to it, Gwen.”

  “All right, already.” Gwen worried her lip with her teeth. “Selene told you she refused to sign her new recording contract. Her manager didn’t take the news well. He warned her that her label would ruin her.”

  Selene hiked a shoulder. “Pure rubbish. They wouldn’t. They’re good people. He, on the other hand, was very upset. He said he’d earned the money by negotiating a fair deal and if I refused to sign, he would sue me for his share of it. He can, but he’d lose. I checked with my lawyer, and I told my manager so.”

  Now, evident from her mercurial expressions, Selene was rethinking the wisdom of that. “He is more apt to do this to me than my label. They totally understood I needed time to myself for a while to recharge. It’s essential to creativity that an artist take time to feed her muse.”

  Selene paused, giving Lisa time to digest that, but before she could string together her thoughts, Gwen hooked a thumb toward Selene. “What she means is after a year on tour, she was exhausted and couldn’t take it anymore. She was fried head to toe and needed a break to get human again.”

  “Precisely,” Selene said. “Crass but unfortunately accurate.”

  “Honey, truth is truth. No sense dressing it up. It works fine just as it is.” Gwen sniffed. “Making the jerk her beneficiary gave him a direct route to her money and her copyrights. That’s the straight skinny on Selene.”

  Gwen touched a fingertip to her chest. Her metal cuff banged against her arm. “Me, I’m in the middle of a very messy and expensive divorce. Derek, my moronic and soon-to-be ex, and I have been haggling over the settlement for seven months with no end in sight. If he could make me disappear, it would save him a fortune. No division of marital assets, no divorce. He takes it all.”

  What they were saying penetrated the fog in Lisa’s mind. “You’re saying these abductions aren’t random?” How could they not be random? Human trafficking was well documented, but were there really that many sick people out there? “Are you telling me that your husband and your business manager have paid to get you out of their lives for giving them problems?” Good grief, there had to be a mistake.

  Fifty percent divorce rate. More single than married households for the first time in the history of the nation. Maybe it wasn’t a mistake, but no one with any business sense would build a trade around an anomaly. Could there really be enough men like Dutch to support a trade?

  For money? There’s always someone willing to do anything for money, Lisa. You’ve seen too much to deny that.

  “Deliberately. Intentionally. On purpose.” Gwen nodded.

  Horror slithered through her, set her pulse to pounding in her temples. “Someone paid money to have this done to me?”

  “My guess is yes. No one is going to snatch any of us off the street or out of a public building unless someone is paying him to do it.”

  “They might, Selene.” Gwen fanned the beam of light across the bed of the truck. “Remember, they’re selling us on the other end. So they might.”

  “Don’t be absurd. No one involved in this kind of sick, nefarious activity would miss the opportunity not to double their money. If they can be paid twice, they’re going to get paid twice.”

  “She has a point,” Lisa said, really thinking it through. “I see this same kind of mentality at the center. To the professionals, it’s not personal. It’s business. They couldn’t care less about our lives. To them, it’s all about money, control, and power. Get paid to get rid of the problem, get paid again when selling the problem. One job, two payments.”

  “See?” Selene lifted a hand. “Exactly my point. It’s always about greed.”

  “Makes sense,” Gwen admitted. “Even if it does scare me to death and tick me off.”

  “Be scared and ticked off later.” Lisa forced her own anger and fear to take a backseat. “If we want to live through this, we need clear heads.”

  “Exactly. We’re all scared, but we need to keep our wits to help ourselves.”

  “Selene’s right.” So Gwen’s husband and Selene’s manager paid for their disappearances. And Lisa’s? Dutch. Of course, Dutch. Which meant her initial reaction had been right. He’d had her mother brutalized to guarantee Lisa be in a specific location at a set time. Staged. Her stomach sank. Despicable. Twisted. Evil.

  “You okay, Lisa?” Gwen asked.

  “No.” Her stomach hurt, her head throbbed, and if she didn’t get some fresh air soon, she was going to be sick. “Wait. Yes, I’m okay.” She steeled herself. “I’m just fine.” She had to think. Think. “Who are our buyers?” Even trying hard, she could barely wrap her mind around this kind of evil. “Do we have any idea?”

  “Not yet.” Gwen sounded as vexed as she looked. “All I’ve heard Frank say was I would bring a fortune at auction.”

  Frank. “Which one is he?”

  “Dirty. Long hair, grimy T-shirt. He was driving. I don’t know if he still is or not.”

  “So is this Frank auctioning us off?” The sickness inside Lisa swelled. Auctioned and sold? Dutch must have thought for years about the worst thing he could do to her to pull her into something this seedy and disgusting. How did he sleep at night? How did any of them sleep at night? Did they have n
o consciences? No spark in their souls they hadn’t corrupted?

  Evil exists. You know it does. This is one of its many faces.

  It was an ugly one. The truck hit a bump, jarring them. Pain shot through Lisa’s hip and back. “What else do we know?”

  Selene lifted a hand for Gwen to speak.

  “They stop every two hours and let us go to the rest room.”

  “What else?”

  Gwen frowned. “These men are Spiders, Lisa.”

  “What does that mean?” Lisa hated spiders. She was terrified of them and had been for as long as she could remember, though she had no idea why.

  “Spiders get rid of problem women.”

  Spiders. She’d never heard of them. Gangs and traffickers and drug cartels, yes, but Spiders had eluded her and her professional community. Were they that good that they could function under everyone’s radar? And if they were, what did that mean to her and the others?

  “So they’re going to sell us and then what? Prostitution?”

  “Worse,” Gwen said. “They’re going to sell and then kill us whenever they’re ready—or have us kill each other so we get to live another day. They call it the kill-or-be-killed game.”

  “It’s true.” Selene pulled a face mirroring Lisa’s disgust. “Frank has asked about our fighting skills.”

  “Kill-or-be-killed. Like some sick sporting event where depraved people bet on the outcome?” Lisa’s head throbbed. “I can’t do that. I’m a doctor. I took an oath to heal people, not kill them.”

  Gwen grunted. “None of us wants to kill. But all of us want to survive.”

  “Like that?” Dangerously close to losing it, Lisa wrestled for control. “I couldn’t stand it.”

  Gwen dipped her chin. “Which is probably why your stepfather chose it for you.”

  The truth in that stole Lisa’s breath. She massaged her temples and prayed for the fear and turmoil churning inside her to settle enough so she could think straight. Think at all. “Sold and then murdered or forced to commit murder to survive by some unknown group that has Spiders find their victims. Unbelievable.”

  “Oh, believe it.” Selene passed the flashlight back to Gwen. “They’ve all been preening about the fights since they threw me in this truck. Frank especially.” Her hands on her face shook. “Watch out for him. He’s as mean as a rattlesnake.” She pointed at Gwen. “He put that gash in Gwen’s head. It’s bleeding again, by the way.”

  Gwen tore her slip, folded a ragged piece of the fabric into a makeshift bandage, and then pressed it to her forehead.

  Struggling to absorb everything, Lisa rubbed her temples again, then her stiff neck.

  Dutch, I knew you were capable of horrific things, but this kind of evil scorches even your charred soul.

  14

  K arl borrowed the convenience store’s facilities and then did a little reconnaissance. The women’s rest room reeked of pine cleaner and had a window. He’d put one of the men out back in case any of the cargo decided to try to crawl through it. Satisfied, he got a fresh cup of coffee, then returned to his car to wait for the truck.

  The man he’d retrieved from the airport, now sitting in his passenger’s seat, didn’t say a word.

  His silence didn’t surprise Karl any more than his not snatching the car and taking off. No need not to keep the engine running and the air conditioner going. Juan wasn’t going anywhere. The reason was simple. Give a man more to lose by running than by staying, and he would stay and do exactly as he was told.

  Karl shut the door, then tapped the vent to blow cold air on his face. “Why does anyone live in the South?” he asked Juan. “Three in the morning, and it’s still hot and humid. I walk from here into the store and break a sweat.” He’d already removed his suit jacket and tie.

  Juan spared him a glance. “You get used to it.”

  He couldn’t get back home fast enough. “You’re clear on your instructions?”

  “Sí, señor.” He looked out through the windshield, his expression drawn and tense, his voice muted. “Drive the truck where I’m told and keep my mouth shut.”

  “Good.” Juan was scared, shaking. The man at least had sense. He should be terrified.

  The white truck pulled off the road and into the store’s parking lot. Karl watched it swerve around a pothole. Frank sat in the driver’s seat. As he pulled alongside the building, he kept the nose of the truck free of obstacles. If Frank had to depart quickly, all he had to do was throw the gearshift into Drive and hit the gas.

  Pleased, Karl told Juan, “Time to move.”

  Juan squeezed his eyes shut. “Dios, forgive me for what I am about to do.” He opened the door and stepped out.

  He’d whispered but Karl had heard. No man liked to act against his own will, and while Karl didn’t lose sleep over the cargo—the chosen ones generally gave as good as they got—it grated at him to give another man a job he didn’t want. He’d been in that position early on and hated it. The Spiders were ignorant subcontractors out to make a buck. But Juan was being forced to act. Raven wanted him involved. That was more than enough.

  Frank hopped down out of the truck and waited beside his open door.

  As Karl and Juan approached, Karl lifted his right hand, stretched his fingers, exposing his tattoo for full view.

  Frank flashed his and looked over at Juan.

  “He’s not one of us.” Karl took the truck keys from Frank. “He’ll be driving.”

  Frank’s jaw tightened and his expression darkened, clearly objecting to having an outsider aboard on his run, but the dark circles and bags under his eyes proved he needed a relief driver. “Who authorized this?”

  “Chessman ordered it.”

  Gregory Chessman had remained active in some NINA operations, even from his jail cell. Not as high up in the food chain as he once was, but high enough. Karl, who had been NINA’s point of contact for the Spiders, had gotten himself promoted to Chessman’s old job, and now Chessman worked under him and Karl ran the Spiders, which is why Karl had pegged Chessman and not Raven with issuing the order. Frank might or might not know Raven existed.

  Neither Frank nor anyone else knew more than they needed to know about Karl’s promotion or about Karl. It was safer for him. Blend in, be indistinctive, the guy everyone sees and no one remembers. He had always hidden in plain sight; it was part of his job and what made him effective as a cleaner, mopping up soured operations.

  When he’d first started over a decade ago, NINA assigned him to Europe, where he perfected his skills. His ability to fade into the background and his attention to detail were essential assets, and he prided himself on providing exceptional work—whatever, whenever, and wherever NINA needed him. In Europe and in the States, he’d made it his business to become their top go-to man. They wanted it, they got it, and it got done right. He served NINA well, and it rewarded him, promoted him right up through the ranks.

  Surprise lit in Frank’s eyes, and he rubbed his jaw. “How long’s he going to be with me?” He jerked his head toward Juan.

  “Until the cargo is delivered.”

  Frank blinked hard, shifting his body weight, uneasy and not bothering to hide it. He stared at Karl with open suspicion. “Project?”

  He and Karl had worked together on many occasions, yet Frank was still verifying. Good man. Excellent. If their positions were reversed, Karl would be doing the same thing. “Shifter.”

  “Code?”

  “Alpha 263891. Supplemental Executive Order.”

  That woke up Frank. “An SEO? Seriously?”

  Even Juan picked up on Frank’s surprise and tensed. Executive orders rarely trickled this far down the chain. Karl nodded.

  Frank cleared his throat, outwardly nervous. “Raven?”

  So he did know about her. “Yes.”

  “All right.” Frank slapped his thigh. “That’s that, then.”

  “There’s more.” Nothing stirred. Karl still scanned their surroundings. Isolated. No unknown c
ars in the lot. Just them and normal night sounds. He lowered his voice anyway. “They’ve added a cargo pickup in Jackson, Mississippi.”

  Frank glowered into the woods abutting the ramshackle store. “That’ll add another four hours to the schedule.”

  “A little more than that, but our orders are to adjust the schedule. I’ve taken care of it down the line.”

  “Fine.” Frank grimaced. “I hope the client at least got soaked on the contract.”

  “Paid triple the normal fee.” Karl had no idea if that was fact or fiction, but it was the word he got from Chessman when they last coordinated on the schedule.

  “Whoa, baby. Now you’re talking.” Frank guffawed, clearly pleased that he’d get a piece of that profit. “Is she royalty?”

  “Who cares?” It didn’t pay to share information you weren’t required to share. A man never knew when something he revealed would turn up in some jerk lawyer’s hands and he’d toss a man down in a deal.

  Of course Karl knew the cargo’s history. Information was valuable, gave a man bargaining power. But he wasn’t revealing it. Especially not to a disposable gopher lowlife like Frank who had brawn but was a penny-thinking lightweight. “Cargo’s cargo.”

  The woman was a witness on a federal investigation that would put an influential businessman in prison a minimum of thirty years for cooking his books. She couldn’t testify—it wasn’t in NINA’s best interests—and she was scheduled to on Monday.

  “Do we intercept her too?”

  “The cargo is already in custody.” Her guards were dead, and she had been relocated. “Pick it up in Jackson and resume your normal schedule.”

  “Sweet.”

  “Thought you’d appreciate that.” Karl smiled. “You’ll be notified where at the appropriate time.”

  “Fine. That it?”

  “That’s it.”

  Frank studied Juan. “Don’t think about being a hero or giving me any trouble. I don’t give warnings. You do anything other than drive and you’re a dead man.”

  “Sí, comprendo.”

  Karl stepped back. “He won’t give you any trouble. Juan’s got a strong incentive to cooperate.”