by Dee Davis
She’d lowered her defenses and allowed herself to care. She’d put someone else first. And by so doing, she’d put herself right back into the line of fire.
Damn it all to hell.
The smell of coffee pulled her out of her maudlin thoughts, and she stopped at the counter, debating whether to try to carry cups or to simply buy ground coffee and make her own. The former would be easier, but this wasn’t Starbucks. There were no lids and no carrying containers, which meant figuring out how to balance both the cups and the food.
Finally, she settled on the ground coffee, praying that there was something at the hacienda that could serve as a percolator. Adding the package of coffee to her other purchases, she turned to go but was stopped short when something hard shoved into her back.
“Don’t do anything to call attention to yourself,” a voice behind her said. “One wrong move and you’re dead. Do you understand me?”
She nodded, her mouth going dry, her heart pounding so fast it was difficult to breathe.
The man shifted, his gun digging into her side, his profile familiar. It was the captain from the Princesa. Valdez.
“Look, if it’s the money you’re after, I don’t have it with me,” she said, looking frantically for a way out. If he managed to get her back to his boat, there was practically no chance for her to escape. And in her haste to get to the market, she hadn’t left a note, or anything to let Drake know where she’d gone. He might work it out, but it would be too late. Which meant she was on her own. And the thought sent panic rocketing through her.
“I don’t need your money,” Valdez responded, with a shake of his head. “Turns out you’re worth ten times as much. The man said he’d pay cash. All I have to do is hand you over to him.”
Her body went cold. Ortiz was the only one who would possibly offer that kind of money. And she had no doubt what her fate would be if he got his hands on her. “I can pay you more,” she offered, hating the note of desperation in her voice. “All you have to do is let me go.”
“Nice try.” Valdez laughed, the sound harsh. “But if you had that kind of money, you wouldn’t have needed to bargain with me for a ride.”
“Maybe I’m just a bargain hunter.” She tried to wrench free of his grip, but he held tight, the gun digging deeper into her ribs.
“Easy now,” he hissed, his fingers tightening on her arm. “I’d hate to have to kill you. But if you give me any more trouble, I promise you, I will.”
“Somehow I doubt that,” she said, her bravado strictly for show. “If I’m dead, I’m no longer worth anything to you.”
“Now that’s where you’d be wrong.” He smiled, his eyes narrowing speculatively. “You see, I get paid either way. Granted, I get more if you’re alive. But I’m not opposed to cutting my losses if you prove to be more trouble than you’re worth.”
She nodded, holding her tongue. There was no sense antagonizing him. Instead, she poked her finger into the paper bag holding the coffee. It wasn’t as good as a trail of bread crumbs, but it was better than nothing. And maybe if she was lucky, Drake would see the coffee and know which way she’d come.
“My friends will come looking for me,” she said, still working to keep her panic at bay. The only way she was going to get out of this was to keep her head.
“Not if you’re counting on the coffee.” He laughed, nodding at the muddy street. “Black coffee against black mud. No one will see that.” He grabbed the packages, throwing them into a pile of garbage on the corner as they turned into an alley leading to the pier where the Princesa was moored.
So much for the Hansel and Gretel approach.
A dilapidated warehouse ran the length of the alley on the left-hand side. To the right there were several smaller buildings, all of them seemingly deserted. Still, her gaze moved back and forth across the street looking for some sign of life, someone who could help her. But there was nothing except the soft whistle of the wind as it blew through the empty alley.
As they moved farther down the street she could see the mast of the Princesa over the top of the warehouse, and she knew that if she was going to make a move it had to be now. Once the captain had her on his boat it would be next to impossible to escape.
Heart pounding, she scanned the alleyway, searching for something that might offer sanctuary. The warehouse, made of aluminum siding, was windowless, access limited to a series of sliding doors, all of them securely padlocked. Then, just as they were nearing the end of the building, she saw her out. A small door, at the top of a metal staircase. All she had to do was break free and make it up the steps.
It was risky, but bottom line, it was better than doing nothing. And if she could buy herself some time, she still had hope that Drake would find her. And if not, then she’d damn well have to figure out how to save herself. But first things first.
As they approached the staircase, she was careful to keep her eyes away from the door. No point in telegraphing her intentions. She’d have only one chance, which meant she had to get it right.
Sucking in an audible breath, she stumbled, then bent over, grabbing her chest. “Asthma,” she wheezed, sputtering for air. “Can’t breathe.”
Valdez, caught by surprise, loosened his grip, and she seized the opportunity, yanking free and driving an elbow into his ribs. Cursing, he staggered backward and she sprinted for the stairs, her feet ringing against the metal as she took the steps two at a time.
Adrenaline pushing her onward, she pulled on the door, to no avail. Behind her, she could hear Valdez clambering up the stairs. Summoning all her strength, she grabbed the door with both hands, yanking it open as it screeched in protest.
She slipped through the door as a bullet embedded itself in the metal above her head. Racing across the mesh metal floor, she dove behind an abandoned metal drum as another shot ricocheted past her.
“There’s nowhere to go,” Valdez called, his footsteps growing closer. “And I can promise it’ll go better for you if you give up now.” His tone was cajoling, but she could also hear the underlying anger.
She glanced around her, trying to figure out her best move. She was on a narrow walkway that circled the perimeter of the warehouse. Only about six feet at its widest, the catwalk offered little protection—a couple of pillars and some piles of abandoned crates.
Still, she knew she couldn’t stay put. Valdez was closing in, and he had the lethal advantage, especially at close range. At the far end of the platform, she could just make out a second staircase leading down to the main floor. She needed to make a run for it, but first she needed to buy herself a little time.
Reaching down beside her, she grabbed a piece of rusted metal and hurled it back the way she’d come. The fragment hit the floor with a loud clank and Valdez, still about ten feet away from her, spun in the direction of the noise.
Madeline pushed off the floor, sprinting down the catwalk toward the second set of stairs. Valdez responded with a hail of bullets, exploding at her feet as they ricocheted off the metal flooring. Ducking behind one of the pillars, she pressed her back against the cold steel.
The staircase lay about twelve feet away, tantalizing in its offer of freedom. But to get there, she’d have to step out into the line of fire. And he was closing the distance, which meant his shots would be more accurate. Fighting against panic, she searched for something that might give her a way out.
But there was nothing.
Valdez’s footsteps were coming closer now. Time was running out. She shifted slightly, trying to see around the pillar without giving herself away, and in so doing, her foot brushed against something hidden by the shadows. Dropping to her knees, she felt along the floor, her hand closing on something cold and hard. A piece of rebar. Three feet in length, the twisted bit of iron seemed a gift straight from heaven.
Pushing to her feet, back to the pillar, she waited, holding the rebar like a baseball bat. Valdez moved closer, turning in circles as he searched for her. Madeline sucked in a breath and wa
ited. Three feet. Then two. And then he was there. She could hear him breathing, as he searched the shadows, trying to find her.
Her heart pounding, Madeline stepped out from behind the pillar, swinging the rebar for all she was worth. It caught him across the chest, sending him flying backward to slam against the railing. He stumbled, then caught his balance, lunging forward again, his hand just missing her arm as she sprinted past him, running full-out for the staircase at the end of the catwalk.
Another bullet whizzed past her and she grabbed the railing on the stairs, using it to propel herself downward. Behind her, she could hear Valdez, still in pursuit. The stairs curved to the right, and she slowed only slightly, shifting her weight to maintain balance, as she flew down the steps. She hit the landing hard, her muscles protesting as she moved off the stairs onto the cold concrete floor of the warehouse.
She ran forward, following a narrow hallway, grateful when it opened into a larger space. But something felt off and she skidded to a stop, turning in a slow circle as her eyes telegraphed a frantic message to her brain. She wasn’t on the main floor of the warehouse. Between the murky shadows and her haste to escape, she’d somehow missed the first-floor landing, winding up instead in some kind of basement.
The small cement room had no windows or doors, no egress from any direction except the way she’d come. She turned back to the hallway leading to the stairs, heart pounding. She could hear Valdez coming off the steps. Spinning around again to face the room, she prayed she’d missed something. That there was a door, or some other means of escape. But there was nothing—no way out.
She was trapped.
Valdez appeared in the doorway, leveling his gun, a slow smile of satisfaction spreading across his face.
CHAPTER 22
Drake made his way cautiously down the last of the stairs into a hallway leading to the warehouse basement. Keeping his back to the wall, he inched forward, leading with his gun. When he’d realized Madeline had gone missing—again—he’d guessed that she’d headed to the market. He’d learned enough about her to realize that she wasn’t good at sitting idle. She needed to do something, even if it was only buying food.
And when he’d seen her at the coffee stall, he’d been certain his assumptions were correct. But before he could get to her, she’d done a one-eighty and left with a stranger, heading for the docks. It had appeared that she’d gone willingly, so Drake figured the man must be the captain she’d convinced to take her out of Puerto Remo.
Anger had warred with disappointment, but he’d followed her anyway, knowing that he had to stop her. Had to take her back to D.C. It wasn’t until they’d turned into the alley that he realized the man was holding a gun. And then, before he could do anything about it, Madeline had somehow managed to pull free, heading for the warehouse, her captor hot on her heels.
There was no sign of either of them now, but he’d heard gunfire, his blood running cold. Then he’d seen someone disappearing down the stairwell at the end of the catwalk. So he’d followed, keeping back out of sight to avoid discovery, heart twisting as he tried to keep from imagining the worst.
But when a second round of gunfire split through the silence below him, he threw caution to the wind, starting to run, skipping steps as he wound his way down the stairs, past the first landing to the bottom, and into the shadowy hallway he hoped would lead him to Madeline.
Immediately ahead, a doorway loomed out of the darkness, and he heard voices.
“I told you it was no use running.” The voice was male, but Drake couldn’t see the man, his line of vision obscured by a structural support.
“So what?” Madeline queried. “You expected me to just give in and let you hand me over to Ortiz?” She was crouched in a corner, holding an iron rod as if it were a sword. Her voice was calm, but he could see that her hand was shaking.
“Ortiz,” the man repeated. “Is he the one who offered me the money?”
“Someone who works for him, more likely,” Madeline said, with a practiced shrug. Drake recognized the gesture—her way of whistling at the dark. “Ortiz isn’t big on getting his hands dirty.”
“I can’t say that I blame him,” the man said. “Although with a pretty little package like you, I can see where it would be tempting.” Anger surged, but Drake managed to keep his control. He had to wait until the angle was right.
Madeline’s fingers tightened on the rebar. But the man only laughed, brandishing the gun as he lunged for her, moving into Drake’s line of sight.
Drake stepped forward, leveling his weapon. “Drop it or I drop you right where you stand.”
The man lifted his arm, holding his gun out to the side in seeming surrender, but as Drake took a step toward him, the man swiveled, dropping down to take the shot. Drake moved on instinct, diving to the side and firing once. The man careened backward as Drake’s bullet ripped through his shoulder, his hand spasming as the gun dropped to the floor.
Drake moved closer, keeping his weapon trained on the man. “Madeline, are you all right?” he asked, his eyes never leaving the man on the floor.
“I’m fine,” she assured him.
“Good. Get the gun.”
She inched forward, snatching the gun away and handing it to Drake, then retreated to her corner, her gaze locked on her captor.
“What’s your name?” Drake asked.
“Marco Valdez.”
“And who do you work for?”
Valdez frowned up at him, one hand clasped over his bleeding shoulder.
“If you want to live, you’re going to tell me everything you know.”
“He’s the captain of the trawler,” Madeline said. “The one I tried to hitch a ride on this morning.”
“Is that the truth?” Drake asked. “Or did you lie to her?”
“I told her the truth. It’s my boat.” He lifted a hand in surrender. “She asked for my help and then she changed her mind. A woman’s prerogative, no?”
“Except that you apparently can’t take no for an answer.”
“It wasn’t as if I was looking for her. I simply ran into her in the market. And since there was a bounty on her head, I decided to take action. It was providence.”
“For you, maybe,” Madeline said, her hands still clenched around the iron pipe.
The man shrugged. “I never wanted her dead. But then she hit me.”
“Believe me, I’m going to do much worse if you don’t start talking. Who offered you the money?”
“I swear I don’t know,” he said, holding up both hands. “A man came by the trawler asking about a woman. Said she’d run away from her husband. He told me there would be a substantial reward for any information.”
Madeline made a choking sound, but Drake kept his attention focused on the man. “And you were only too happy to help.”
“Sí. It was a lot of money. Ten thousand. American.”
“Is this the man?” Drake held out the photograph of Alexander Petrov that Nash had given him.
“It looks like him. Only his hair is shorter. Like in the American army.”
Drake nodded, filing this newest bit of information away. “So what did you tell him?”
“The truth. That she’d asked me to ferry her out of the country, only she ran off before we could finish the deal.” He shifted, wincing from the pain. “The man threw a couple hundred my way, and I thought that was the end of it. Until I ran into her in the market.”
“And you figured you could turn a tidy profit if you grabbed her and took her to Petrov.”
“It seemed like a plan,” the man said, shrugging, “only I wasn’t taking her to him. He said he’d check back, so I thought I’d just hang on to her until then. Hadn’t planned on her being such a livewire.” He shot a heated look in Madeline’s direction. “Bitch almost got me killed.”
“Yeah, well I wish I’d hit you harder,” Madeline said, lifting the rebar.
Valdez growled something unintelligible, his eyes narrowing as he reached f
or his pocket.
“Gun,” Madeline yelled as Valdez dove for the cover of the pillar, shooting at Madeline.
Drake fired as he dove between Madeline and the bullet, then rolled to his knees and fired again. Valdez’s body slid down the pillar, his lifeless eyes still wide with surprise.
“Did he hit you?” Drake asked, turning to Madeline, searching for any sign that she’d been injured.
“No.” She shook her head, reaching out to touch his hand. “I was afraid he’d hit you.”
“I’m fine,” Drake said, his fingers squeezing hers. “Bastard never had a chance.”
“Is he…” Madeline whispered, her eyes moving to the body.
“Dead? Yes.” Drake nodded, reaching over to check the pulse and retrieve the little handgun. “Should have guessed the guy had a second piece. Anyway, we need to get out of here before we have company. If I heard the shots, someone else will have heard them, too.”
“Petrov,” she said, running a hand through her hair, still staring at the body. “So who is he?”
“One of two mercenaries we think di Silva hired. Montague was the other one.”
“The guy I killed,” she said, her lips tightening into a thin line. “How long have you known this?”
“Since I first talked with Nash. The night we arrived in Puerto Remo. There’s been a lot going on. I didn’t have the chance to tell you. I thought maybe we got him when we blew up the boat.”
“But we didn’t.” She shook her head, clasping her hands together so tightly her knuckles turned white. “And even if we had, Ortiz would have just sent someone else. It never stops. Like a nightmare I can’t wake up from. They just keep on coming.”
“Now’s not the time, Madeline,” Drake cautioned. He held out his hand to her, but she pushed it away.
“I’m sorry. I’m fine,” she said, pulling to her feet. “Really. What’s a little kidnapping after everything else I’ve been through?”
