Beyond Duty

by Stanalei Fletcher

  “I thought I heard something in the sky over the tree line. I turned to look and rolled my foot on a rock.” She grimaced as he eased off the shoe. “If I’d been wearing my hiking boots, this wouldn’t have happened.”

  “We didn’t know we’d be out in the brush like this, or I’d have told you to pack a pair.” He took off her sock and rested her foot in his palm. The simple act felt too intimate and she had a hard time concentrating.

  “What did you hear?” Riley brought her attention back to her clumsy accident.

  “It was some sort of whining sound. I didn’t see anything, though. Right after I twisted my ankle, I couldn’t hear it anymore.”

  Riley sat back on his haunches and gazed at the sky. “A man-made whining sound?”

  “Yes.”

  “Could it have been one of those unmanned aerial vehicles from the senator’s program?”

  She thought for a moment, remembering the drones she’d heard in Afghanistan. “Yes. I think it could’ve been an UAV.” She reached for her sock to put it back on.

  “Whoa.” Riley grabbed the sock away from her. “What are you doing?”

  “If a drone is out here, then something’s going down. We need to be ready to move.”

  “Not until we’ve taken care of your ankle.” He stuffed the sock in his pocket, then pulled a small case with a red cross on the lid out of his pack. As he opened it, his cell phone vibrated. He checked the display then put it to his ear. “O’Neal.”

  Chip watched his expression turn from mildly curious to alarm.

  “Right now?”

  “What?” Chip strained to hear the conversation on the other end.

  Riley waved for her to be quiet. “He did what?” He listened for a beat, then swore. After pressing the off button, he stared at her. “You were right about hearing a drone. Byron and the general are sending a rescue team onto the property. The senator ordered a surveillance drone for coordinating the approach.”

  “We haven’t been close enough to relay any information. How can they know for sure the women are down there?”

  Riley looked annoyed as he put the phone away. “They don’t, but the kidnapper called the senator an hour ago and moved up the timeline. Burnsworth wants proof the women aren’t on the property so we can eliminate it from our list and keep searching.”

  “Moved up the timeline? The senator can’t reschedule a congressional vote. What does the kidnapper want now? How much time did he give?”

  “He wants a public announcement from the senator withdrawing his support for the program.” Riley’s mouth thinned. “We’re down to twenty-four hours and counting.”

  “Do you think our cover has been blown?”

  “No, I don’t. However, Pomeroy gave permission for troops to check out the property. It’s a done deal.” He gently twisted her heel. “How does that feel?”

  “It hurts.” She winced. “So Pomeroy gave permission?”

  “Yeah. Surprised me, too.”

  “That could mean he’s not involved.” Chip figured Riley felt as frustrated as she was.

  “So he says.”

  Something was still off with this setup. “What are we supposed to do?”

  “They want us back at the resort for a follow-up.”

  “We’re here. We should observe the raid—see what happens.” Chip didn’t want to abandon her friend if she was in one of those houses.

  “We can’t stay.” Riley rested her foot on his thigh as he unrolled the wrap around her ankle. “I’ll get this fixed up and then we have orders to evacuate the area. If we’re seen, the kidnapper might kill the women to send a message.”

  “You can go. I’m staying.” Chip tugged her sock from his pocket and picked up her shoe. “I’ll stay out of sight, but I’m not leaving until the raid is over. I have to know if Fiona’s here or not.” She waited until Riley finished wrapping her ankle, then eased the sock over the bandage. The shoe was a tighter fit, but that might help stabilize her ankle. She scooted on her backside toward the property line. With luck, it would all be over in a matter of minutes.

  Chapter Nine

  Chip knelt behind a juniper tree close to the fence line, careful of the pressure she put on her ankle, even though it felt much better after Riley had wrapped it. She studied the buildings hunkered in the small valley bowl like some child’s toy ranch, and prayed Fiona and Lorraine were found—that their nightmare would soon be over.

  To the north, she could make out the scenic byway that wound through the Jemez Mountains toward Los Alamos. The team mounting a rescue mission had probably gathered at the Air Force base at Albuquerque sometime early this morning. They would’ve been the ones who controlled the UAV she’d heard earlier.

  To reach this location so fast, the troops must have received their orders around the same time she and Riley were discussing Pomeroy’s possible involvement. What was Andrew thinking, requesting troops before they could confirm the situation? For that matter, what were the general and O’Neal thinking? A raid was bound to tip off the kidnapper. Both men were aware of the edict to keep the authorities out of the picture. Were they trying to get Fiona and Lorraine killed? Was this program worth the sacrifice of two innocent women?

  No. Chip refused to believe Andrew, the general, or O’Neal were willing to make that kind of a sacrifice. And even if they were, she wasn’t. Chip wasn’t going to let the women die on her watch.

  Riley settled in beside her. “If you’re determined to stay, I’m not leaving either.”

  She tried to ignore the warmth that blossomed in her chest as she realized he hadn’t abandoned her, after all. Heat radiated off his shoulder as though he’d channeled the New Mexican sunshine directly from his body. She wanted to lean toward him and take in the comforting sensation. Instead, she readjusted her focus and looked down the hill to the buildings below. How long had the troops been reconnoitering Pomeroy’s property? Did they have the intel she and Riley had been looking for?

  “Have you seen any movement yet?”

  She shook her head. “What I wouldn’t give for a pair of binoculars. I can barely make out the cars on the road just beyond.”

  Riley dug through his backpack. “Here.” He handed her a compact pair of binoculars.

  “You’ve had these all along?”

  “I wasn’t hiding them from you.”

  She gave him a considering look. “What else have you got in your bag of tricks?”

  He offered a crooked grin. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  Heat rushed to the roots of her hair. She was out of her depth, attempting to flirt with a man who surely had more women in his contact list than she’d had dates in the past five years. “Never mind.” She lifted the binoculars and viewed the area below. “I still don’t see any activity.” She handed the glasses back to Riley. “You want to look?”

  While he studied the buildings, Chip listened for the whine of the UAV or the rumble of a large transport vehicle that would bring in the troops. She knew any rescue team wouldn’t be careless enough to drive up to the front door and knock, but they had to be somewhere nearby.

  “Look!” Riley pointed to a corner of the clearing. He handed the binoculars back to her. “Over there.”

  Chip focused to where he pointed. A team of six men emerged from the juniper forest and peeled off in pairs. They headed toward the back of the property directly below Riley and Chip’s perch. “Good. They’re going for stealth, not force.”

  The soldiers—it was too far away to tell if they were Army Special Forces, or possibly a SEAL team—ran in crouched positions to the house farthest from the road. They circled the building, checking the windows and openings, then breached it. Chip didn’t hear any sounds carry up. These guys definitely knew their stuff.

  The troops were inside the first house and back out again in less than five minutes. No noise, no casualties. No rescued hostages.

  They performed an identical breach on the next building. Only this time the r
esults were different. Minutes after entering the building, the team emerged flanking a single person. No shots had been fired as far as Chip could tell. The troops apparently met with no resistance.

  Two of the men broke off from the team, holding onto the new person between them, and returned to the covering juniper at the back of the property. The other four headed off to search the remaining buildings. As the group of three hurried toward cover, Chip got a good look at the person through the binoculars. “They have Lorraine Voras. She’s alive. It doesn’t look like Pomeroy’s as clean as he claims.”

  ****

  Riley admired the troops’ precise tactical execution as they cleared the remaining buildings. The search went down as well as anything he’d seen—even in the movies. When the team exited the second building with the woman between them, he’d hoped this was the conclusion of the assignment. The gamble of sending in the rescue team had paid off. But then he’d spotted only one of the hostages with the troops. A sinking feeling settled in his gut. No one else had been found. Except for Lorraine Voras, the entire property was vacant.

  The kidnapper had separated the women and hid them in different locations. Smart of the kidnapper. Unlucky for Fiona Burnsworth and the senator. Worse, the good guys had just tipped their hand.

  “Either you’re right about Pomeroy, or someone wants to make him look guilty.” He nudged Chip’s shoulder. “We need to get out of here.”

  “Not now!” She glared at him, a suspicion of tears in her eyes, and then gestured to the place where two of the soldiers disappeared into the brush with Lorraine. “We need to go down there and talk to Lorraine. She might know where Fiona is. We have to move fast before the kidnapper realizes we’re on to him. In fact, we could already be too late.”

  Riley’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out and looked at the text. “They’re taking Lorraine to the hospital. Byron wants us there to take a statement from her.”

  Chip looked as if she wanted to argue, then took a deep breath. “Fine, help me up please.” She reached out a hand and Riley tugged her to her feet. She limped as fast as she could to the horses and mounted her mare. Riley was right behind her as they started back toward the resort at a much faster clip than the ride out.

  ****

  Dean Weston stared in disbelief at his phone. A live feed, showing a military unit busting into Pomeroy’s vacation home, displayed on the small screen.

  How was this happening? How had the authorities found Lorraine? And so quickly! She was supposed to have been safe until this whole ordeal was over.

  He swore and tossed the phone on the table, the clatter echoing in the quiet room. Maybe he should leave the country—just kill Fiona Burnsworth before the entire shit-storm crashed down on his head. He grimaced at the bitter taste in his mouth. He wouldn’t be killing anyone. He was in deep, but killing wasn’t a path he’d go down unless he had no choice. But, if he disappeared now, and the Burnsworth bitch died, how could that be his fault?

  Dean ran a shaking hand through his hair. He never should have agreed to abduct the women—wouldn’t have, if his own life weren’t on the line. After this fiasco, he’d have to leave the country. Hell, he’d have to leave the western hemisphere to be safe from the authorities.

  He paced to the small kitchen and pulled back the bedsheet that covered the window. The dismal scene outside was the same as every other time he looked out—sagebrush and dirt as far as he could see. On the other side of the small driveway, a little creek—with a name he couldn’t remember—ran through the ravine that sheltered this small cabin and kept it hidden from the main highway. The location was a barren, suckhole of a place, and he wanted this nightmare to end so he could get back to D.C. Or better yet, back to California. His mother would give him money from his trust fund so he could hide for a while. She always came through for him.

  Behind him, his phone vibrated on the table. They would’ve seen the video, too. The feed had been broadcast real-time directly south of the border. The phone buzzed again and he felt his bowels turn to water. He didn’t want to answer it, but he didn’t dare ignore the summons.

  Swearing, he crossed the room and picked it up. Even though the caller ID was blocked, he knew who was on the other end of the line. “Hello?”

  A heavily accented voice said, “We have a problem.”

  Dean’s gut churned until he thought he’d throw up. He’d only spoken to this man once, and had hoped never to hear that sinister, too calm voice again.

  The head of the El Rey del Sur, an up-and-coming drug cartel, had no remorse for kidnapping or killing. The new cartel was determined to prove they’d earned a cut in the lucrative drug trade by taking on a United States Senator. Something the more prominent cartels would probably like to do, but were smart enough to avoid an all-out war with the United States.

  The El Rey del Sur cartel had no such qualms. When they’d discovered Dean, a U.S. Senator’s aide, had been dealing cocaine in D.C., they had found the leverage—and the connections—needed to pull off the brazen blackmail.

  “I swear.” Dean’s voice cracked. “I don’t know how they found Lorraine. I did what you told me. I separated the women.” He justified his part of the plan. It wasn’t his fault it all blew up when the troops stormed the house.

  “It is true we told you to split them up. However, it was you who placed Senorita Voras in a location that could be traced back to you.”

  “The location was convenient. Pomeroy is in Washington. No one was supposed to know. They just got lucky.”

  “No one got lucky. Someone made the connection. The location was a sloppy choice.”

  “It won’t happen with the senator’s wife. I made the call for Burnsworth to rescind his support like you asked. We’re still good to go.”

  “No, we have to adapt. We have a new plan.”

  “New plan?” Dean’s hands were shaking. He wanted to chuck the phone out the door and run. “What’s wrong with the plan we have?”

  “Are you truly as inept as you sound? Do you seriously believe you have control of the situation?”

  “I do! I do! Our ace is still in the hole.” Dean looked at the locked door to the room where he’d stashed Mrs. Burnsworth. “She’s not going anywhere.”

  “That is good.” The cartel leader sounded almost too relaxed, which didn’t bode well for Dean. “But we need more insurance. Especially, if Senorita Voras talks.”

  The phone started to slip through his sweaty palm. He traded hands, holding the device to his other ear in a white-knuckled grip. “They can’t trace me. Lorraine would never betray me. She doesn’t know where I am. I never brought her here.”

  “We cannot take that chance. It is critical we do not fail in our endeavor. There is too much riding on a favorable outcome.” There was a pause. “Including your own life, yes?”

  Dean swallowed, as though a noose was tightening around his neck. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Bueno. There is hope for you, yet.” Another pause. “We believe you are too exposed on your own. We are sending help.”

  The hair on his scalp stood on end. Left alone, Dean could walk away. But if the cartel sent someone out here… “I’m fine. Whatever you need. Tell me. You don’t have to send anyone.”

  “The new plan cannot be executed by one man alone. You handled the kidnapping in the dead of night admirably, and we are pleased. But now we must make the senator believe we are serious.”

  “He believes! Trust me, he believes.”

  “He has hope, because one of the women was rescued. We cannot allow hope.”

  The tension in Dean’s shoulders ratcheted up. He was in this ugly mess up to his studded earrings. Even if he ran, he wouldn’t get far enough away to save his own skin. He had to play the cartel’s game a little longer. Defeated, he asked, “What do you want me to do?”

  ****

  Chip shifted stiffly in her saddle as she and Riley rode out of the brush on the plateau and entered the forest
that bordered the resort. The trail was well marked and she gave the horse a looser rein and encouraged the mount to a faster pace. Her mind kept returning to the scene on Pomeroy’s property. If Lorraine was there, why wasn’t Fiona? Why wasn’t the kidnapper watching Lorraine? What were she and Riley missing? Their cover might not be blown, but there was no doubt Senator Burnsworth had tipped his hand.

  Chip closed her eyes visualizing Fiona’s platinum-blonde hair, her ready smile, and quirky humor. She had to be okay. She just had to.

  Chip’s horse gave a sudden jerk, and she opened her eyes to see a shadow slithering across the trail. She didn’t react quickly enough before the mare reared up, forcing Chip to drop the reins and grab the pommel. Before she could regain control, the horse was in a full run through the trees.

  Behind her, Riley shouted. “Where are you going?”

  She couldn’t respond. She was already several yards ahead and putting more distance between them by the second.

  The horse raced through the forest, under low-hanging limbs that scraped at Chip’s face and clothes. Although her arms were strong from hours of training in the gym, it was all she could do to hang on to the saddle with one hand, while grasping for the reins with the other. Her hat tore away when she dodged a branch that almost knocked her off. Bouncing from one side of the saddle to the other, she was barely able to stay on as the horse raced deeper into the forest. She felt the reins bounce near her knee and glanced down to grab them. Just then, the horse veered and went under a low branch that stretched over a stream.

  Chip saw the limb and tried to duck, but it was too late. Knocked off the horse, she landed on the streambank, momentum carrying her down the slope into the water. The cold water made her gasp with shock. She scrambled over the rocks and back up the side as muddy water dripped from her face, arms, and shirt. Her cargo pants and shoes were soaked through.

  Crawling to a nearby tree, she leaned against the trunk to catch her breath. Her braid had come loose and hair hung in strings around her face. She picked at the leaves and twigs tangled in her damp locks, swearing under her breath at the skittish horse.