The Complete Tempest World Box Set

by Mankin, Michelle

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  King

  I turned my cell on as soon as the wheels of the plane touched the runway. It lit up with a barrage of missed messages. Before I had a moment to start sorting through them, my cell rang.

  “Mike, hey.” My screen had identified him. “We just landed.”

  “Not Mike, Mr. Acenado. It’s Frank MacKenzie. Mike’s here right beside me receiving medical attention. I insisted on him coming to the hospital to get his nose reset and those busted ribs of his wrapped.”

  “Frank, as in, Miriam’s ex-boyfriend?”

  “Yes and no. Frank MacKenzie is my name, but I’m not a building contractor like she thinks I am. I work for the government, Homeland Security Investigations specifically. I’m a special agent for HSI. I’ve been undercover investigating Vincenzo Campanella for child trafficking and pornography. But explaining everything would be complicated. Let’s just say Miriam was our chance to get close to his daughter without raising suspicion.”

  “Jasmine.

  “Yes. She’s a brave little girl with a strong sense of justice. Surprising given who her father is. I credit Miriam. I think her influence has made a world of difference for Jasmine. And as for Miriam, I’ll tell you upfront that I’ve wanted her to be mine for real since I took on this investigation. Mike here tells me that’s no longer an option. Says her heart belongs to you.”

  Maybe it did. Her actions said it did. But right now I couldn’t wrap my brain around anything else beyond the priority of getting her back.

  “Anyway, the important thing is we know Campanella is holding her. The FBI alerted us to what’s going on through Justin Jones, a mutual acquaintance. I made the decision to move in while you were airborne. We have an arrest warrant. We have the personnel I need. We’ve also got access to his security system. We’re going to get Miriam out of there safely, I promise.”

  “I want to be there.”

  “I can’t let you. You could jeopardize the operation. It’s highly irregular.”

  “I won’t jeopardize jack. I want the same thing, to get her out of there as soon as possible. I won’t interfere. But I want to be as close as I can be when you bring her out.” No if we got her out. I wasn’t allowing for that possibility. “She would want me there.”

  “Yes, I believe she would.” He sighed. “Alright. But you have to do strictly as I say.”

  “Bueno.” Nothing good about the situation, but he had agreed, and I wanted to get started. I wanted to claw the seatbelt off my lap, throw open the airplane door and drop to the tarmac to facilitate that happening faster. We were going to get her. Hands curled into fists, I stared out the window willing myself to be patient though I was certain I could run faster than the damn plane was taxiing. “Her brother,” I remembered. It was difficult to focus. “He comes, too.”

  “Fine.”

  “And my brother.”

  “Anyone else? The rest of the band, perhaps?”

  “No. They’re not here. Just us three.”

  “Good. You’ll need to keep everything I’ve told you confidential. The fewer that know the better our chance for success.”

  I got that. We hadn’t even told my family or hers what was going on. “Where should we meet you?”

  “I’ll be waiting at the gate when you deplane. I think you’ll recognize me.”

  I did recognize him, though I looked at him differently after he flashed us his HSI badge. He took us to an office in an unmarked SUV. One of many businesses within a strip mall, it was pretty nondescript except for having Homeland Security Investigations etched on the glass door.

  Inside there were rows of desks along with about a dozen individuals who were either on the phone or engrossed with whatever their computer monitors displayed. Not a single one wore a uniform which was fortunate. It would have made them seem more like cops with whom I had a sketchy history.

  “Mac.” A fit man in his mid-forties approached us. “Glad you’re back.” He gave Frank a chin lift, then turned his attention to us. “Jeff Fox. Special Agent in Charge.” He grazed a brief, but somehow thorough, glance over me and my bandmates. “Any difficulties?”

  “No.”

  “Any new developments?”

  “None.”

  “We got your informant out.”

  “Good.” Frank aka Mac looked tremendously relieved by that piece of information.

  “She got us the access codes we needed and overrides to all the cameras before she left.”

  “Bless her.”

  “I have no doubt he suspects her. Her future is totally up in the air if we don’t succeed. We need to move quickly.” Jeff honed his gaze on me. It was no longer observant. He was worried it might already be too late for Miriam. Every muscle in my body locked tight.

  “Miriam Jackson is the wildcard. Could throw a wrench in everything if you let your emotions rule you.” He put a hand on Frank’s shoulder. “You have to set your feelings for her to the side. Think logically. No distractions.”

  Frank nodded once. “Have you narrowed down where he has her?”

  “Somewhere on the lower levels. A section that can only be accessed from the hallway outside his office. Where we know he has the others. We’ve got a computer forensic analysis agent on it.”

  “Only one?” He frowned.

  “Yeah. The rest are working on getting us key card access to every single other nook and cranny of the place.”

  “We got a trace on his personal cell yet?”

  “Negative.”

  “Can’t proceed with the breach until we have it. I need to know where he is so I don’t put her or the others at any more risk than they already are.” Frank scrubbed a hand over his face before peering at his superior. “You’re not telling me what I want to hear, Fox.”

  “SRT is ready to roll the minute we have all those things.”

  “Flash bangs? Chain cutters? Breaching rams? Everything on my list?”

  “Yeah. Everything you wanted the Special Response Team to have.”

  “Except full access to the Tropicana. Except confirmation of her exact location,” Frank complained.

  “Got it! All rooms! All cameras!” A thin agent wearing glasses at a nearby desk whooped loudly and brandished a celebratory fist in the air.

  “Alright, everyone. This is it.” Fox turned to address the room. “We have our op plan. Victim’s coordinators are on standby at the scene. A Public Affairs Officer is prepared to make a statement to the press once we’re through. Let’s do this. We finally got the bastard where we want him. Let’s roll.”

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Miriam

  I bolted awake at the sound of the opening door. Two goons came in, different ones with colder faces and meaner eyes. I tried to moisten my lips, but my mouth was too dry. It had been too long since I’d had water.

  They avoided eye contact as they went to work setting up an industrial grade movie camera. Others were concealed inside the room, I had no doubt.

  I warily watched them, a million scenarios running through my brain. None of them good. Still, I remained on the floor with my back to the corner, awaiting my chance.

  Lights on tripods went up next. They trained them and the camera on one area. The bed. I avoided looking at it, my gaze skittering over it as quickly as my thoughts did.

  The door hinge creaked, a pitiable sound that frayed my nerves. The guards had left the door ajar. For the moment both of them had their backs to me. I saw my shot, and I took it, bursting from the corner in a full out sprint. My vision tunneled and my heart slammed around inside my chest as I ran toward that narrow slice of freedom.

  Get to the hallway, I told myself, but I didn’t make it. Not even close. I realized then that they had only been baiting me.

  They joked about how easily they had caught me as others entered the room. They formed a circle around me, stripped my clothes, taunted me.

  The first open palmed slap came without warning, knocking me to the ground. My c
heek blazing, I cursed and managed to regain my feet. And then another hit me. And another.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  King

  They put us inside an unmarked van full of surveillance equipment and federal agents parked right outside the main entrance, so close I could have almost hit the hotel marquee with a rock, but the headset wearing analysts were still having trouble patching into the security system. Voices that had been loud and boisterous with preoperational adrenaline became hushed and anxious. I caught snippets of whispered conversations. Speculation about a delay. I was just about ready to throw open the door and storm the place on my own. Bryan, Sager and I exchanging glances that said they were with me if I did. Suddenly the security camera feeds flickered, pictures replacing the previous static on the screens.

  I felt a surge of elation that soon became icy dread when my gaze reached the last screen on the row. Miriam. My queen. Huddled in the corner of a stark appointed hotel room, naked, her wrists cuffed. I stepped forward. The agent in front of the screen cut a quick glance over his shoulder, then hunched further in front of the monitor blocking her from view. He tersely uttered a string of technical information into his headset. LL3. Room 220. Access restricted. Entry through the hallway on the right before the pool. Elevator override. My cell rang as those details penetrated my frenzied mind.

  “What?” I answered it without thinking. And I heard a voice. Her voice. “Miriam,” I breathed. But she didn’t respond. She was talking, but I realized that it was only a recording.

  “Please, don’t,” she cried. I heard a slap and a gasp that made my blood run cold. “You don’t have to do this.” Another slap. And another. I heard her crying, begging them to stop. Her pleas were met only with jeers and obscenities. My hands shaking, I jerked the phone away from my ear. That was when I realized that it wasn’t only sound. The caller had opened a video chat feed. It looped again somehow. Helpless to do anything, my gut churned as I watched a circle of men ripping the clothes from Miriam’s body. Every beat of my heart pounded with horror as they began to take turns slapping her, one after another until she stopped getting back up.

  My queen on her knees, in front of monsters like that. I’d make every one of them pay.

  A text message dinged.

  Unknown caller: Enjoy the show? VC

  A red-tinged haze curtained my eyes. Vincenzo Campanella. I would kill him first. Then the rest of them. Stumbling backward on unsteady legs, my shoulders hit the metal wall of the van behind me so hard my teeth rattled. Heart racing with retribution for them and fear for her, I returned my gaze to the monitor that held her image. I tried to reconcile what I had seen on my cell to the live feed on the security camera. No one was in the room with her now. She lay in a corner, unmoving. She stared vacantly at the door. They had stripped her of more than just her clothing. They had stolen her fire and robbed her of her dignity.

  “C’mon.” I turned my head to her brother and mine and lifted my chin. I wouldn’t stand around and watch anymore. Their gazes sharp, they silently acknowledged me. They hadn’t seen what I had on my phone, but they saw the result of it on the surveillance screen that featured Miriam. They were right behind me as I slipped stealthily out the back door of the van.

  • • •

  Miriam

  I stared at the door. What they had done to me had been horrible. I hurt all over. But I knew what they planned for me next would be worse. They had promised to cut me. To burn me. And after that would come the ultimate violation. A shudder rolled through me. Chill bumps rose on my skin. I couldn’t contemplate it. My body already felt alien to me. No longer my own. No longer my choice. Carefully, awkwardly because of the stiffness in my limbs and the handcuffs, I pulled my knees to my chest, dropped my head, and I wept.

  • • •

  King

  Inside the lobby of the lobby, I glanced around to get my bearings. Security lights flared like strobes. The electronic music of the slot machines droned on muffled by the clanging alarms. Uniformed Las Vegas Police ushered frightened people toward the main exits. Pressing forward against the flow, my bandmates behind me, I made my way in remembering the coordinates from the van. I reached the pool exit and the propped open door to the right. I ducked into it and scanned the long hallway that stretched out before me. Along its length several HSI agents I recognized from the main office stood with their weapons trained on men who sat with their backs against the wall, their hands handcuffed behind them. It pleased me to note that most appeared roughed up in one way or another.

  “Mac sent us,” I lied. “Where’s Miriam?” I threw out the question to no one in particular keeping my head down so they couldn’t see the barely-contained rage in my eyes.

  “Lower level three. Room 220. Take the elevator,” one of them replied without looking away from the man he guarded. I put my hand in the air to acknowledge his directions, and he waved us past.

  Bryan and Sager exchanged glances with me as soon as the doors closed.

  “Do you think she’s ok?” Bryan asked as I punched the button for LL3.

  “There might be guards,” I warned.

  “I almost hope so.” Bryan’s eyes blazed.

  The doors opened. We exited shoulder to shoulder. The corridor we entered was more dimly lit than the one above. The strobes flashed ominous shadows on the walls as the alarm bells clanged. We followed the signs that pointed to the right for rooms 210-220. As we made our way down the hall, open doors revealed rooms similar to the one we had seen Miriam in. Each of these, every single one, stood eerily empty.

  My strides lengthened, my companions matching my pace. Around the corner, I saw a uniformed agent outside the room that held my reina.

  “Still working on the override for this door,” he said sheepishly as we approached. “The pass code’s more complicated.”

  “Stand back.” I shouldered him aside. The panic I had held at bay was cresting. Surging on a wave of adrenaline, I reared back and kicked the door. It gave way too easily. Off balance, I staggered inside the room as I heard the agent’s comm unit crackle.

  “Lock override complete. Visual clear. Subject secure. Medical team dispatched.”

  I dropped down on my knees beside Miriam’s prone form.

  “Miriam. Reina. Wake up.” My eyes began to burn when she didn’t respond. I slid my hands under her. Her skin felt ice cold. She whimpered a protest as I pulled her to my chest. Her head lolled listlessly to the side. Cradling it, I stood. The rattling of the handcuffs behind her back made my anger surge anew.

  “We’ve got her.” Bryan removed his shirt and threw it over her to cover her nakedness. He put his hand on my shoulder, his expression revealing he was having his own issues tempering his rage. “We gotta keep it together. Get her out of this place.”

  “Let’s go.” Sager gave us both a look. The presence of my bandmates brought me a small measure of comfort. But after what Miriam had been through I wondered if there would be anything I could do to fix her.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  Miriam

  Juaquin was here. I remembered the disbelief I had felt when he had come to my rescue. How had he found me? Waves of relief alternated with panic as I remembered the violation I had endured. Juaquin had saved me. So handsome. So vital. So fierce. Even now he stood guard outside my room like a sentinel as the ER staff attended to me.

  But I was a wreck. Why bother? What could the empathetic nurses and no-nonsense physicians possibly do to make me better?

  I hardly remembered the ride over in the ambulance. Since then I had endured questions, exams and bloodwork. Although I had declined the rape kit.

  I wrapped the scratchy blanket tighter around my shoulders. Though the nurse had somehow managed to secure all the ties of the flimsy hospital gown, I still felt glaringly exposed.

  The way I feared I always would from now on.

  Juaquin was talking to the doctor and my brother out in the hall. The staff had sent Mike and Sager to the waiting ar
ea, which was a good thing given their pasts. Neither did well with emergency rooms or the aftereffects of physical violence. Especially on such a personal level.

  What is the doctor asking my brother and Juaquin? I wondered. What more needed to be said? I had been beaten. Threatened with sexual abuse. My torturers had videotaped my humiliation. The inquiries and questions seemed unnecessary in light of the video evidence. I couldn’t stand any more. I wanted to go home. As if sensing my disquiet, Juaquin turned his head my way.

  Ah, I felt his concern. His sympathy. I didn’t want it. I wasn’t worthy of it. I had walked directly into Campanella’s trap. I had endangered everyone. My bruised and broken body, as well as the inner wounds that no one could see, were all my own damn fault. I dropped my gaze.

  “Miriam.” His black and white Adidas high tops entered my field of vision. I gripped the blanket tighter and cranked up my chin. I was his queen, or I had been. How could I resist his call? He winced and narrowed his golden eyes. I looked like hell. I had seen my face in the mirror. It wasn’t pretty. A stark contrast to him and his devastating masculine perfection. Black sweatshirt with cut off sleeves. Jeans snug in all the right places. More than one nurse had given him a second look as he had passed.

  “What did the doctor say?” I licked my dry lips and glanced away. I lifted the Styrofoam cup with a straw to my mouth. He watched me closely. I took a long sip, cool and refreshing. I realized, like many things, I would never take the freedom to drink whenever I was thirsty for granted again.

  “That you’re ok to go home now if you want.”

  How will anything be ok after this? I thought as he removed the turquoise jacket that he had tied around his trim waist. He had probably actually needed it back in Seattle. “Here.” He gently removed the blanket and replaced it with the jacket, carefully arranging it around my shoulders as if it were a mantle, and I was still good enough to be his queen. “You ready?”