If Juarez thought Kane or Siobhan knew where Hestia was, he was mistaken. And if he tried to beat the information out of them, it would fail, because there was no information to gain. Torturing him or Sean wouldn’t give Juarez the information he needed because they didn’t have it. And they didn’t have Siobhan, not yet. Not at all. Kane trusted Lucy to keep Siobhan safe.
Lucy and Siobhan had picked up Andie, one of the most decorated US Marines still active today. Andie would put her sister in a high-level military prison if she had to until this situation was resolved. If she got a lead, Lucy would certainly go after Juarez. If Juarez left men at the house, Lucy wouldn’t walk into a trap.
Maybe that’s why they separated him and Sean. To use Sean as the bait.
But Lucy wouldn’t turn Siobhan over to Juarez to save Sean.
Love makes even the smartest people stupid. Don’t forget that.
Kane trusted Lucy to do the right thing. But this whole situation was fucked; worse, Kane had no idea what Juarez’s end game was.
He has a secret. He knows something.
Kane hated that he didn’t have all the information he needed to formulate an actionable plan.
Juarez looked at his watch, still smirking. “Ten minutes. Ten minutes and you’ll realize that your redheaded whore is a liar like every other female. I will enjoy watching you fall, Kane Rogan. I will enjoy it very, very much.”
* * *
As soon as Sean was taken into the small, dark, moldy house he knew that Kane wasn’t there.
Sean wished his Spanish were better, because he didn’t understand everything the men were saying, but the part he picked out was that Kane was being taken to “the barn,” wherever the hell that was.
They’d only driven about fifteen minutes before they stopped. There were voices around him, but he couldn’t make them out. When he tried to adjust his position to look, one of the two guards sitting in the back of the truck with him kicked him in the ribs.
Then the voices stopped and the truck started moving again, bumping on a deeply rutted road. They only drove for a minute before stopping again. Sean was pulled out of the truck and taken into the sagging structure. It had once been a home, but storm damage had rendered it uninhabitable.
There were several other similar manufactured homes that were barely a step up from dilapidated trailers, scattered through the area, but no one was close enough where Sean could call for help. And why would anyone help him? Juarez could have paid off the neighbors, or maybe they just didn’t want to get involved with a bunch of men with guns.
Only two vehicles had come to this trailer with Sean, which meant the others had either been left at the ranch or had followed Juarez, who had Kane.
One thing Sean had going for him was there were two trucks outside. He could hotwire most anything, especially older vehicles. And there were other houses in the area, where he might be able to find a vehicle or a phone or someone to help. He needed to get out, get away, and get to a computer. Kane still wore the watch that Sean had hacked. Sean could find out exactly where he was at midnight or noon.
He hoped it didn’t take that long. He prayed Kane was still alive. That this wasn’t just some elaborate plan to torture and torment him.
Sean’s captors tied him to a chair. The trailer stank of rotting wood and furniture. It had clearly been flooded and only partly cleaned out. The windows were open or no one would be able to breathe in here; as it was, the place remained a serious hazard.
The chair was metal, and maybe his captors didn’t know that he was as good—and sometimes better—than his brother at getting out of bonds, because they didn’t secure him well. Nylon rope around his wrists, tied behind his back, ropes around his ankles, and they’d tied a couple of loops around his middle and the back of the chair.
Fools.
He just had to wait until they left. Two minutes and he’d be free, but only if they weren’t watching.
The two young men—hell, Sean didn’t think they were yet eighteen—stayed outside. He didn’t see any guns on them. The two men with guns stood inside the doorway, letting the breeze come in through the open door. They didn’t talk to him. Didn’t tell him what they were or weren’t going to do. They spoke in Spanish, but he didn’t know if they came with Juarez or if they were local. Considering that southern Texas was 90 percent Hispanic, he suspected local. Juarez probably brought in his key team members from Tamaulipas and hired the bulk of his crew locally.
He listened as best he could. A few years of high school Spanish didn’t really help him understand the fast-spoken dialect. Lucy could interpret virtually any Spanish out there, from high Spanish to regional Spanish. Kane was fluent—at least in conversational Spanish. Siobhan was fluent. But Sean was better with machines than language, and he’d never quite caught on.
He needed to work on that, because he really wished he understood what they were saying.
He closed his eyes. Focused. He heard a few things, specifically girls’ names, and soon realized that they were talking about their girlfriends and what they were going to do with the money they were making.
Yes, definitely local.
Sean didn’t know if that would help him, but it was best to have all the information available. And if they were local, they didn’t have loyalty to Juarez. They might be enticed to run or disappear if things got heated.
He stared at them and waited, willing them to leave him alone.
I just need two minutes. Two minutes and I’ll be free.
Chapter Six
Siobhan’s phone rang at exactly 7:00 p.m.
She reached for it, but Lucy grabbed her wrist. “Remember what I said,” Lucy said.
Siobhan was on edge. Lucy understood that, but both Sean and Kane’s lives were on the line, and they needed to play this right.
“I know. I know.”
They hadn’t had enough time to set up an FBI trace, and JT hadn’t wanted to call in the authorities just yet—he wanted to make sure this wasn’t a pure hostage situation, which RCK specialized in.
Fortunately, Lucy had enough technical skill to use Sean’s computer to run a basic trace program, and she had set it up with Siobhan’s cell. Siobhan would answer through the computer, which put the call on speaker. It wouldn’t give them an exact location, but they could narrow it down, and then look at the region and find the most likely place they might be held hostage.
Lucy nodded, and Siobhan hit the enter key, which started the call and the trace program.
“H-hello?” Her voice cracked.
“Siobhan Walsh, this is Felipe Juarez. You took my daughter; you will return her.”
“I saved her from a disgusting pervert. You should be ashamed marrying her off to an old man! She wanted—”
“Stop. Stop,” he said over and over, until a gun went off.
Siobhan screamed.
“That’s your only warning. The next bullet will go through your lover’s head instead of in the wall.”
“I—”
“You are a liar, Ms. Walsh. A liar and a kidnapper. When I learned the truth, I wanted to find you and break you. But I know you are strong. You would die with your secrets. But you are not strong enough. I will make Kane Rogan suffer. I will make him curse you and beg to die. I know he is strong. It will take days, weeks, to break him. But I will break him. I will send you tapes of his screams. I will send you videos of his blood flowing into the earth. All because you are a liar.”
Tears ran down Siobhan’s cheeks.
“I—I—I—p-please.”
“Please. Please what, Ms. Walsh? Please spare him? He’s going to die. You know I would never let him live after what he’s done, so I won’t even pretend. But the difference between weeks of pain and suffering and a bullet in the back of the head? That’s on you.”
“I don’t—”
“Do not tell me you don’t know where Hestia is! I know you do! You think you were so smart? Think again. She just graduated from college. From University of Ari
zona. And guess what? You were there. Oh, she’s a smart girl, and you are a smart girl, but her friends, not so smart. I saw the truth. Hazel Lopez.” He spat out the name. “You will bring Hestia to me. You have twelve hours. At seven a.m. I will call this number again. Either Hestia answers, or the torture begins. Do you understand?”
“Y-yes.”
He ended the call. Siobhan sobbed.
She hadn’t asked for proof of life. Lucy had wanted it, needed it. She hadn’t asked about Sean.
But at least they knew why this had happened.
“Who is Hazel Lopez?” Andie asked.
Siobhan couldn’t speak. She had a hard time catching her breath. Lucy gave her water, but couldn’t coddle her, not now. She was watching the computer as it narrowed down the area Juarez had called from.
A minute later, the computer beeped that it had a location.
A two-square-mile location in the middle of nowhere. The closest town was a small place called Santa Maria.
But it was a place to start.
She sent the data to JT in Sacramento, and he would work on narrowing the information down. It wasn’t enough, but it was more than they’d had.
“Hazel Lopez,” Lucy repeated.
Siobhan took a deep breath and pulled herself together. “I’m sorry, I’m usually better than this, but that man—he is evil. I know he’ll do everything he said he’ll do. I was a fool nine years ago, I should have done it differently.”
“No second-guessing. Why does he think you know where his daughter is?”
“Hestia called me in May. She was graduating from college and asked if I wanted to come. And . . . I knew I shouldn’t, but she had a new name, a completely new life! I don’t know how he found out I went there, or that I went for her graduation, or anything! I don’t know. But I don’t know how to find her. Her name is Hazel Lopez now, that he has . . . he might be able to find her, I have to find a way to warn her, but I don’t even know how to do that! All she told me was that she was going back home after graduation, that her family didn’t live in Arizona. I met them and they are so wonderful, so proud of her. A wonderful family, and she has brothers and sisters and—”
“Siobhan, focus.”
She said, “Only Kane knows who got her papers in order and how to reach out to her. He told me once that he didn’t want to know, that he trusted this person—said she was in ICE, that she had been trafficked and would know exactly how to make Hestia disappear in all the right ways.”
“Sonia Knight,” Andie said. “She married a fed.”
Then it clicked. Sonia had married Dean Hooper, the ASAC of the Sacramento FBI office. Dean and Sean were friends. “I know how to reach her,” Lucy said. But this information would, by necessity, need to be kept confidential. She didn’t want to know where Hestia was. But she would likely have to get a new name and identity if they couldn’t stop Juarez now.
Lucy stepped outside and called JT Caruso. She gave him all the information she’d learned, not only about the call but the reason Juarez was coming after Siobhan and Kane now. JT was already working on tracing the call, and he said he’d talk to Dean and Sonia.
“Just get her protection,” Lucy said. “Juarez hasn’t been able to find her. My guess is when he learned her name and the college she graduated from in May, he tried and failed to track her down. That’s why he took Kane—if he took Siobhan, Kane would mount a rescue. Taking Kane, Siobhan doesn’t have the training or resources to find him, especially with this tight time limit.”
“You’re right, but I know Sonia and she’s not going to turn the girl over to her father. Kane wouldn’t want her to.” Lucy heard voices in the background, but couldn’t make them out. Then JT said, “I’m getting Sonia on the phone now. We’ll get the girl protection, but if we don’t find Kane and Sean before seven in the morning, we need to buy time. I’ll figure out if we can patch Hestia in to Siobhan’s phone, or forward the call to her location.”
“We can’t put her at risk.”
“We won’t. But when he calls again, we’ll have the FBI trace it. I’ve already talked to Rick.” Rick Stockton was one of the assistant directors of the FBI in Washington and JT and Kane’s closest friend. Rick and JT had been in the Navy SEALs; Kane had been a Marine. But they had worked more than one joint operation and seemed to be bonded for life, a bond that Lucy was grateful for now. “Rick’s putting together a small tactical FBI team. They’ll be there to trace the call at seven in the morning, but if you get any information about their location, call Rick directly—you’ll need backup.”
“I will.” Lucy would take all the help she could get at this point, because twelve hours—eleven hours, forty-two minutes—wasn’t enough when she didn’t know where to start.
“I’ll listen to the conversation as well—thanks for recording it. If I come up with anything, you’re the first to know. Jack just left, but it’ll take him eight hours to get there. He’ll fly straight to the ranch, so he’ll definitely be there early in the morning to help with any rescue. If this ends up being a hostage rescue, you’ll want Jack.”
“You don’t have to convince me,” Lucy said. “My negotiation skills aren’t going to come in handy this time.”
“But you can work on buying time. Use your strength, Lucy. And remember—Sean and Kane will do everything they can to get out of this. Be ready.”
Lucy ended the call and took a deep breath. Padre had come out to the porch while she was talking.
“Jack’s coming,” Lucy told him. Padre and Jack had been friends for more than two decades.
“I expected nothing less. We’ll find them, Lucy.”
She had to believe it, or she would fall apart.
“JT is going through the maps, but—”
“I know this area. You’ll just have to show me how to use that computer of Sean’s. I’m technology challenged.” He gave her a spontaneous hug and mumbled a prayer in Spanish. It comforted her like nothing else had.
She said, “Let’s get started.”
Chapter Seven
The sun was long down; the rotting house was dark.
The four men rotated in and out, but for the last thirty minutes, they all sat in the back of the pickup truck, talking. Complaining, it sounded like. From what Sean could figure out, they hadn’t realized they’d have to sit on him all night. Maybe no one expected him, or if they did, they hadn’t planned on grabbing him as well. Two of the guys had plans they canceled.
Sean recognized that he was lucky to be alive. They wanted Kane, for whatever reason. It would have been easy to kill him, especially since they’d separated him and Kane. Yet, if they needed leverage, they’d be able to bring Sean in. To torture or kill, it wouldn’t really matter. Kane was strong, but would he bend—or break—if Sean was being tortured? Siobhan?
So far, though, other than a few bruises, Sean was in good health.
By now, Lucy and Siobhan would be back at the house. They’d know something was wrong, call for backup. If Lucy found his phone, she’d at least have the basic information of what happened. Sean hadn’t seen any of the men go back and take their guns or phones. They had tossed everything in the ranch truck.
But he had no control over what Lucy had found or not found; he just needed to find a way to get out of here and call for help. Now that it was fully dark, he had a better chance.
They were checking on him infrequently, probably because the house reeked. It should be completely razed—it would cost far more to save it than it would to build it new. But the door was open. They’d hear if he made too much noise.
He’d mentally seared the image of the living room into his mind. He didn’t know if there was a window he could crawl out—quietly—in the back of the house, but that was his best bet. Still, he had to make sure that he had a few minutes, and no one had checked on him for the last thirty.
“Hey, guys!” Sean called out.
No answer.
“Guys! I have a question!” he shouted.
He heard grumbling, then one of the four walked up to the doorway. “What?” he snapped.
“Can I get some water? I can hardly breathe in here.”
He laughed. “Screw you.” He walked away, said something to his friends in Spanish, and they all laughed.
Sean waited a few minutes in case one of them decided to bring him water, but no one came.
Two minutes later, he was out of the ropes. He sat there for a second, made sure no one was coming.
The open door was going to be a problem, but he would have to risk it.
Be smart. Be fast. Be quiet.
Sean slowly stood, stretched because his feet were asleep. The last thing he needed was to trip because he had no balance. He glanced out the door as the pins and needles worked themselves through his body. He couldn’t see his captors from this angle, but he could still hear them talking and laughing. He stepped forward. The rotting floor creaked.
He hesitated, but didn’t hear any change from outside. They were still talking and laughing, and he heard a couple bottles rattle.
No other noises in the neighborhood. No parties or cars or voices. No kids playing or televisions blaring. Was the entire neighborhood empty? Were all the trailers abandoned, like the one Sean was being held in?
He glanced out the door. Now that it was completely dark, he couldn’t make out the people in the truck, though two of them appeared to be smoking, the small orange embers from their cigarettes moving in the black night. They likely couldn’t see him, but they might be able to sense movement.
Sean took another step; another creak. The sound seemed unbelievably loud, but that could be his adrenaline pumping. He took six steps forward and two to the right—he knew from staring at this place for the last three hours that there was an overturned recliner that partly blocked the hall. His left leg brushed against it, but he didn’t trip.
He listened. The guys were still chatting.
He didn’t know what was in the back of the trailer—from his observations he had seen four doors, leading to rooms or bathrooms. The stink was worse back here, as if the septic tank had busted and no one had cleaned it out. The last door was the largest bedroom and the door was missing. But there were two windows—one facing front, one facing back.
No Way Out Page 6
