by Wendy Byrne
“Calm down, Enrique. Let’s think about this logically.” While Jared didn’t say as much, he couldn’t help but believe he questioned Enrique’s judgment, too. “She’s probably upstairs.”
Or she knew we were coming. The idea circled his brain until he thought he might scream from the very thought of it. Sammie isn’t Teresa. And maybe if he thought it enough times he’d believe it.
“Hey, man, I’ve got your back, no matter what. We have to proceed logically—”
“Ah, shit.” Enrique pointed to the note on the counter and read it. “‘Enrique, once again you’ve been played. By the time you read this, I’ll be halfway to South America. Yours not so affectionately, Sammie.’”
Anger followed by fear roared inside his chest. His breath stalled as he worked through the betrayal. No, he couldn’t. No, he wouldn’t believe it. He rushed up the stairs, taking two at a time with Jared right behind him. He searched the apartment but found nothing.
A sound went off, signaling a text had come in. He heard Jared’s go off as well.
Jonathan Crane’s real name is Maxwell Lincoln. The real Jonathan Crane’s law school picture does not match up. Maxwell is a known acquaintance of Scott Silvestri.
“Ah, shit. Scott Silvestri is Teresa’s brother. What would Crane want with her?” Pieces started to fall together in his head. Enrique squeezed his temples as he barreled back down the stairs. “She was set up. I know it. But why?”
“You need to get me up to speed,” Jared said.
The money. That’s the part that didn’t make sense. Memories of Teresa plagued him.
He needed to make the right call. But what was the right call?
His career meant everything to him. Going back on all that he believed in rose before him. Would he return to that black space of pain and second-guessing once again?
“Say something, Enrique. I need to know what you’re thinking.”
…
Little by little, everything was shifting into place for Sammie. Enrique had scammed her. He’d never cared about her. He only wanted to do his job. Like some dumb schmuck, she’d stood in the middle of it all, oblivious to the deceit he wove around her. She was just a pawn in his game. He wouldn’t be coming for her. No one would. She was royally screwed unless she figured this out on her own.
Feeling sorry for herself and wallowing in self-pity wouldn’t help her right now. She needed to keep her focus on the present. If she survived, she’d have more than enough time to mourn her stupidity.
“Where are you taking me?” She shifted in her seat.
“Someplace special. And remote enough so you’ll never be found.”
“So cliché, don’t you think?”
“You’ll lose a lot of that attitude when you see what we have planned for you.”
She glanced at the driver who she knew as Jonathan Crane, but clearly he wasn’t who she’d thought. “Who are you?”
“Maxwell Lincoln, lover of Enrique Santos’s ex-wife, Teresa. The asswipe put my woman in prison. But we’re about to be reunited, thanks to your lover’s incompetence.”
“What are you talking about? And how does this involve my uncle?”
The man in back laughed while Jonathan—or Maxwell, or whatever the hell his name was—smiled and said, “That’s the beauty of it. It doesn’t. He’s the poor schmuck with a gambling problem who worked perfectly in our plan when he was forced to sell drugs. Enrique Santana, or Santos, to the rescue—he rode in on his white horse to make the bust. Then you came to town, and we hatched the perfect plan to destroy him once and for all. I’m sure about now he’s disintegrating due to your betrayal.”
Her hands trembled so badly she interlocked them on her lap so he wouldn’t notice. “What are you talking about? I didn’t betray him.”
The man in back spoke again. “But you wrote him a note and left it for him to be totally humiliated at your part in bringing him down. It really was a beautiful thing. We even planted evidence in your apartment from his personnel files. A just reward for what he did to my sister.”
“But I still don’t understand why he would think I betrayed him.”
“That’s not the point. He’ll believe you have. Sort of like Romeo and Juliet. Before he figures it out he’ll have eaten his gun.”
The very idea made tears spring to her eyes. She’d never met pure evil until just now. Surely Enrique was smarter than to fall for that. “Not going to happen.”
“You’re our ace in the hole. In case he doesn’t fall for what we’re selling, he won’t be able to resist coming to your rescue. But he’ll be alone. No one in their right mind will ever believe him again,” Jonathan said.
“Oh, and did I mention we planted a shit ton of drugs and about five hundred thousand in cash in your apartment in Providence, along with his personnel files, and then did the same at his place as well? It was a thorough job, if I do say so myself,” Scott added.
Bile rose in her throat as she fought back the urge to retch. She couldn’t imagine a way out of this that didn’t end in disaster.
…
“You got any ideas, Jared?” Enrique paced the back of the bar trying to gauge how long it would take before the police showed up. No doubt they wouldn’t believe him when he told them Sammie wasn’t here. Jared was the only person he could trust. “We’ve got to assume she’s with Crane. Do we know if he took her away in a car?”
“As far as we know, Jonathan doesn’t own a boat. And none have been reported stolen.” Jared stared at his computer screen. “What’s your tracking device telling you?”
Thank God, he’d remembered the device he’d thrown in her purse. “South Florida, as far as I can tell. We need to start heading that way before they’re out of range.” Enrique clicked off the phone, more frustrated than ever. He was missing something. A knock sounded at the door, and Enrique went to open it.
Michael? What the hell was he doing here?
“I need to tell you something.”
Enrique shook his head. “Not now, Michael. Sammie’s not here. And we’re kind of in a hurry.”
“That’s why I’m here. There was a man hanging out behind the place the other day, and that same guy was in the car she got into with Jonathan.”
“Wait a minute. Do you know who he is?”
“I don’t have his name, but he knows you.”
A chill lit up Enrique’s spine. “What do you mean?”
“Heard him muttering something about being related to you. I think he said brother-in-law?”
Enrique shook his head. The only brother-in-law he’d had was dead. “I don’t—” The thing that had been bothering him surged to the forefront. Jonathan and Scott were known acquaintances. Shit. “Was he a tall, skinny guy with a scar on his forehead?”
“Yes, that’s why I came. I spotted him hiding in the backseat of the car when Jonathan came out with Sammie, and it struck me as odd.” Michael avoided looking at Enrique. “Jonathan told me he wanted to help out Sammie. He said you were a bad guy who was trying to hurt her, but he needed my help to prove it. He told me that you”—he pointed to Enrique—“were a drug dealer and it was up to me to save her, so I let him know when you were around and when you weren’t.” Michael’s head hung low, his chin nearly reaching his chest. If Enrique wasn’t so pissed, he might feel sorry for the guy.
Enrique put himself in check. “For sure you saw this guy in the car when they left? How did Sammie look?”
“Worried. Scared, maybe.”
Teresa’s older brother. It had to be him. Hatching a convoluted plan to take him down. He should have known it would all connect back to her, somehow. He slammed his fist into the counter, let out a string of expletives, and pulled out his phone.
This changed everything.
Chapter Twenty-One
Even though they’d blindfolded Sammie about an hour before they stopped, she knew wherever they were keeping her was remote. They’d removed her from the car and put her on a fan boat, so
she could only guess they were somewhere deep in the Everglades. Now she couldn’t hear any sounds besides the flutter of insects and the hiss of snakes, and she could feel the moisture seeping beneath her skin into her bones. Once in a while the sound of another fan boat rushed through the water, but other than that there was silence.
She’d been locked inside a small room for several hours with her hands still bound, but with her blindfold off and the air surrounding her stifling hot. There were no windows, so she was guessing about the passage of time.
Her only thought involved escape. In order to do that, she had to conserve her energy, keep up her strength, and try to find a weapon she could utilize.
As far as she knew, they had guns. She heard the rat-tat-tat of gunfire every once in a while, like they were practicing.
She figured they were biding their time until Enrique came for her. Or they heard he’d killed himself.
Staying strong was important. Unless she missed her guess, that Scott guy was tweaking something. Not that she cared, but it would make him a whole hell of a lot easier to overcome. Two of them and one of her was doable.
Sammie heard some arguing coming from outside before the door swung open. The sun nearly blinded her for a few seconds as her eyes adjusted.
“How’s life treating you, Sammie?” Scott chuckled and got close to her. Sweat and grime covered him, and the smell of not showering on a regular basis nearly gagged her.
He grabbed her arm, and she brought her elbow into his gut. She dashed toward the door, but he managed to recover and grab her hair. He wound it around his fist and yanked her back toward him.
“Get your filthy hands off me.”
“I thought we’d have a little fun while we’re waiting to hear what’s going on with that boyfriend of yours.” The laugh he emitted made her want to vomit.
When he let go of her hair, she moved as far away as she could. “Touch me again and I’ll make you regret it.” She might be in the middle of a swamp, but she could take this asshole one-on-one, even with her hands taped.
“Big talk for someone who’s holding no cards in this poker game.” He placed his hands on his hips and stared a little too long at her legs. “I have to say it gave me a good laugh to hear Enrique was screwing you over. He walked right into a trap and didn’t even know it.”
“I don’t know what kind of fantasyland you’re living in, but whatever you’re planning doesn’t have a chance in hell of working.” Keeping him on defense was the way to play this. She’d been around his type all her life and knew what would push his buttons.
The slap came at her unexpectedly. She didn’t have time to prepare or the ability to protect herself. As a result, she tumbled to the floor.
“You forget I’m in charge. Enrique’s a dumb ass. He’ll never find you until it’s too late. If he even tries.” He took a swig from a water bottle hooked to his belt.
She jumped to her feet, though the heat had to be a hundred plus inside this room, even with the door open. Going for that water was almost as tempting as shooting the bastard. “What do you hope to accomplish?”
“Don’t you get it? It looks like he fucked up Jack’s arrest, so my sister’s lawyer has already filed a motion for her case to be reopened in light of his screwups.” He nodded. “Ah, I see he didn’t tell you about everything that went down in his so-called career. Let’s just say it’s been less than stellar. Fabricating evidence, getting an officer shot, just to name a few.” Her skin crawled when Scott stopped inches from her face. His bad breath assaulted her senses. “On the good news front, you’ll be happy to hear Jack’s still hanging in there. My guy must have made a miscalculation when they beat him up to keep him from talking. That uncle of yours is one stubborn son of a bitch.”
“So am I.”
…
Enrique fixed his gaze on the screen of his phone as Jared negotiated through the back road in a jeep. “What the fuck?”
“We’re running out of road. What’s the signal saying?”
“Ahead about thirty miles.”
“Hell, that’s deep into the Everglades. There’s nothing there but gators and snakes. Maybe they tossed her purse out or something.”
Enrique didn’t want to think about what Jared didn’t say. They both knew the score, and Sammie was expendable. There was no reason to keep her around except to torture her.
“We need a fan boat. That’s the only way to get in there without attracting attention. You know somebody who can get here like yesterday?”
“I’ll make a call. Should have one in less than five minutes.”
Enrique’s phone rang. Mel’s name popped onto the screen. Shit. “Where did she go, Enrique?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” He blew out a breath.
“The police said she left a note and that she’d been playing you all along.”
“She didn’t write that.”
“Enrique.” He didn’t have to say the remainder of his thoughts. Enrique knew all too well what they were.
“Suppose Teresa’s brother got involved in this? Suppose Jonathan, aka Maxwell, was Teresa’s lover.” He swallowed back the bile. “Suppose this was an elaborate plan to make me suffer. To make me lose any shred of credibility I had remaining.”
“You have any proof?”
“Nope. But I’m about to get it. And I’ll prove she’s not involved in this and her uncle was coerced. This all circles back to Teresa. She’s been that elephant in the room all along, and I’m about to put that to rest once and for all.” This was all on him. If it came down to it, he’d swear up and down that he’d forced Jared’s cooperation.
“Here’s my guy now.” Jared tried to reassure Enrique.
“They’ll have firepower on board, right?”
…
“If you were a man you’d take me on one-on-one.” This was Sammie’s last-ditch effort—appeal to the male ego—which worked nine times out of ten. There was no way Enrique would find her here, and dying by an alligator would be preferable than at the hands of these two morons. She might not be able to out-muscle both of them, but she could sure as hell out-think them.
“I heard you’re quite the karate master, but that won’t keep us from breaking your neck,” Scott said.
“Maybe. Maybe not. Why don’t you try and see?”
“Cut that tape, and I’ll bring her outside. We need a little amusement to pass the time. Let’s see if she can kick my ass and dodge some snakes. When she screams for mercy I’ll make the call to good old Enrique,” Jonathan said.
Jonathan flipped open a knife, cutting through the tape in back. She stretched her fingers and worked the muscles in her arms in preparation.
“Be careful what you wish for baby, you might get it,” Scott whispered in her ear while he pushed her out the door.
Flashes of clarity came at the most inopportune times. She loved Enrique. Not that she could do anything about it now, but it was his face that flashed before her as she contemplated what could be the last few moments of her life.
Would it bother him if something happened to her? Or was this only a job for him?
What a hell of a time to think about this.
The front yard was no more than a small clearing in the middle of mounds of vegetation. The ground was damp, and judging by the smells, the swamp of the Everglades was close. Even if she managed to get away, she didn’t have a chance of getting out.
One step at a time.
“Nobody interferes. If I win, you let me go.” She shook her arms to help some of the circulation return.
“Sure, whatever you say.”
They both laughed. And neither would fight fair. The only thing she was counting on was lasting long enough for help to arrive. But that wouldn’t happen. Enrique wouldn’t care what happened to her. He’d had his chance to tell her what he’d been up to but didn’t. That spoke volumes about how little he trusted her. No doubt he suspected she’d been part of this all along.
&
nbsp; Scott stalked her until she found an opening and landed her first kick, sending him sprawling. Pride, more than anything else, had him waving off help as he came after her, even more determined.
Circling like the predator he was, he threw a clumsy punch toward her jaw. She blocked it with her arm. With his other hand, he caught her on the side of the face.
She saw stars, the pain reverberating through her whole body. But she couldn’t give up. Shaking off the bout of dizziness, she willed her vision into focus. She had this. Murphys were made of strong stuff, like Jack used to tell her.
Dehydration was starting to set in. But if she was quick enough to evade him, she had a chance of staying alive.
He was playing with her now, a cocky smile on his face. Jonathan joined in, cajoling her with words, trying to scare her into losing her focus.
But she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. This was her arena. He might be a street fighter, but that wasn’t his expertise.
The sounds of the swamp pervaded her thoughts—the buzzing of insects circling around her head, the whirl of fan boats traveling across the water in the distance. Mosquitoes, or some other kind of insect, bit her flesh. Little by little, she felt the bumps rise to the surface of her skin as each new bite occurred.
“Make her suffer,” Jonathan urged. “She’s been a pain in my ass since day one, acting all high and mighty like she was better than me. Better than everybody else.”
When Scott pulled a knife and clicked it into place, she wasn’t surprised. All along she’d expected something like that. They wouldn’t fight fair. But she was used to that kind of thing. “That’s the thing about down here. A nick with a knife, the blood starts to flow, and all sorts of critters come to feed. Little by little they eat away at your flesh. Before you know it, the alligators come wandering by.” He laughed. The sound bringing a round of goose bumps to her sweat-covered skin.
He taunted her with that blade, bringing it close in a wide arc, then jabbing at her. He wanted her to react. But if nothing else, she had patience.
Her focus was Scott, watching his eyes, as they gave a hint to his every move. Her breath came in pants as she struggled to breathe in the humidity. She heard a popping sound, then Jonathan fell to the ground.
