by Em Petrova
She jerked back, gulping down her emotions. This had to end—one way or another, she had to find closure, and not only for her parents. She too had been suffering for far too long.
With three weeks’ worth of vacation banked at work, she had plenty of time to travel. She’d never gone to Mexico to see for herself where Antonio had been, but it had to be now.
If she didn’t close this chapter of her life, she could never move on. More than anything, she needed to begin living again.
* * * * *
“Nice digs,” Woody commented as they filed into the room Ranger Ops had been given as a sort of home base. It wasn’t a Texas Rangers’ office, at least, but it was a downgrade even from that. The furnishings were circa 1980s, with chairs sporting metal bases that might have once been modern and now looked like they should be in the dump. Nash’s true concern was whether or not the seats would actually collapse beneath all of their weights.
“They’re in the process of a remodel,” Nash lied through his teeth.
Woody grunted. “The day anything other than the Oval Office gets a remodel is the day I’m sainted.”
That had them all chuckling, but not Nash. He waved at the big table for them to be seated. Then he took up his place at the head, bracing his legs wide and folding his arms over his chest as he eyed them all.
“Looks like most of you have healed from any injuries you sustained on that last mission.”
The cartel had been little match for a special ops force, especially when Nash had gone berserk with rage after being ambushed by a couple of armed guards. Afterward, he’d heard the voice of Lang in his mind, telling him to get hold of his anger, to stay level-headed.
He had some work to do.
Lennon lifted a hand in a half salute. He’d been the worst of them, splitting his brow open a second time and now sporting stitches. The blackened scab and swelling were gone, at least.
“All right, guys, getting down to business. You know what I saw down in Coahuila. And I have orders for reconnaissance as soon as we can scramble. What is before you is a file with all the information on Antonio Vincent since his disappearance. Study it. Know that shit inside and out, so if something comes up down there, you will make the connections.”
The men flipped open their files and began skimming the pages of photos and investigation reports.
“Also, this was just handed to me.” Nash lifted a computer tablet. When he swiped the screen, an image came up.
For a heartbeat, he stared at the woman in the photo, a snapshot as she stepped onto a front stoop when she was unawares. Her body was angled, but Nash was able to make out curve after curve. But what really hit him in the solar-plexus was her hair. Thick dark brown that shone red in the sun and waved over one high cheekbone.
His guys were waiting for him to show them the screen, but Nash flicked his gaze over her face a moment before holding it up.
“This woman is Vincent’s sister Nevaeh. She’s been interrogated at length since his disappearance, as you’ll read in the notes. But recently two Texas Rangers visited her and her family, and Miss Vincent recalled another detail.” He swiped the screen again, moving to the document of notes that had been scanned into the email. He already knew what was written there, so he passed the tablet to Woody seated on his right.
The man merely glanced at the document before flipping back to the photo of Nevaeh Vincent. He let out a low whistle.
“Damn, she’s fucking beautiful. If this is what we get to look at as Ranger Ops, I made the right decision to accept the job.”
To Woody’s side, Lennon leaned in. “Holy hotness. Are there any more pictures of her? Perhaps in her bra and panties?”
Nash’s chest gave a sudden burn of irritation. “Cut it out. Just read your files and what is on that screen while I detail out the plan.”
He sank to the chair, and sure enough, the metal legs seemed to dip beneath his weight. He moved gingerly so as not to bend the living fuck out of it and rested his elbows on the table. “With this new bit of information, we believe Vincent might have been involved in some illegal hacking. He was a big techie, a college kid who liked to hike and travel. We confiscated his computer back when he disappeared, but it cannot be found today. It’s disappeared as well, maybe discarded as junk. Either way, his hard drive revealed nothing. Of course, if Vincent was skilled, he might have wiped it before he left for Mexico. That in itself raises a lot of questions.”
A few of the guys mumbled their agreement as they flipped through the files.
Nash went on. “Recently, I had the authorities searching for the whereabouts of that hard drive, and damn if it wasn’t located for me. Jess? This is yours.” He held up the small piece of electronics that had been given to him.
“I’ll look at it now.” Jess had the tablet and was eyeing the photo of the woman. Nash caught a glimpse of her and twisted his gaze away. He had to focus—no time to think of how long it’d been since he’d had a woman in his bed.
A soft, curvaceous woman.
Never one with hair like that, though. Damn, what he wouldn’t give to sink his hands into that thick mass while driving into her tight body.
He cleared his throat.
Jess got up and went to the corner where a computer system was set up, as high-tech as they came with all the bells and whistles one would expect from working with the government, even if they didn’t give a shit about their office space.
He began to hook up the hard drive and in seconds had something on the screen.
Nash went on, “We’re headed to Mexico at O-six-hundred. Destination is a hostel where Vincent was last seen checking in. Lots of kids stay there during spring breaks, and it isn’t unheard of for drug deals and the like to go down there. But what we believe we’re dealing with isn’t a hijacked tourist.”
Woody and Cavanagh looked up from their files. “He might have just been buying drugs and got into a bad deal,” Cavanagh said.
“Could be. Though Vincent wasn’t known to use drugs or alcohol other than an occasional beer. What this new evidence points to—”
Jess broke in, “Is that the bro’s got a big fingerprint, and I can follow it.”
Nash got up and went to the computer desk. The others followed, all fanning out behind Jess as he brought up a code on the screen. “See this? It’s a series of letters and numbers, but it’s basically Vincent’s signature. Is there anything I haven’t read yet in that file about this question of hacking?”
Nash leaned in to examine the codes, which just looked like gibberish to him. “His sister recalled walking in on him while he was online, and there were rows of codes on the screen. When he typed something in, a restricted warning came up, and when he started scrambling, she left in a hurry and didn’t see more.”
Jess was nodding. “Makes sense. How the hell’s this all been missed for what? Ten years?”
“That’s right,” Nash said.
“Probably were searching in all the wrong places.” Woody crowded closer to look at the screen. “They were looking for a kid who went hiking and got lost, maybe slipped into a canyon or was murdered for his possessions and buried in a spot they had no chance of discovering. They weren’t thinking he was involved in anything criminal, like hacking into a database that had earned him notice.”
“He might have been lured down here,” Cavanagh spoke up.
Nash straightened away from the screen. “We’ve got our work cut out for us. We’re not talking about paperwork checks here, guys. We’re special forces now, and we have to think like them.”
“What’s the plan, boss?” Woody already looked ready to roll out.
Nash was too, now that they had more of a handle on what they were looking for, thanks to Jess. “We’ll disguise ourselves as tourists and start following any trails we can, talk to people and see if they remember anything or know of any known organizations in the area. People who don’t want to be known.”
Jess nodded. “That’s what I’m
seeing here. I need a few hours to really dig, but this kid entered some unknown fucking territory, by the looks of it.”
Nash clamped a hand on Jess’s shoulder. “Take the time you need.”
“Sully?”
He turned at his nickname, modeled off Sullivan.
“Why exactly do we have this?” Linc held up the tablet with the photo of Vincent’s sister.
“Because she’s said to resemble Vincent in features and coloring. Though the man I saw on the street was wearing a ball cap…” Nash stared at the woman’s face. He nodded. “Yeah, that’s what he looks like, though obviously she’s much more feminine.”
Much, much more. But the set of their eyes and the way their lips bowed was undeniably a genetic trait they shared.
“That old photo might not provide the image we need of Antonio. But maybe having this woman’s face locked into your brains will help you recognize him once we get down there.” He made a fist and bumped it against his lips as he stared at the woman. The Texas Rangers had reported how irritated Vincent’s sister had been while speaking to them, and that their mother had gone inside the house in tears.
New determination struck Nash. They were fucking finding this guy and returning him to his life. When Ranger Ops was finished, Antonio Vincent’s picture wouldn’t be hanging on walls anymore.
Chapter Three
The air was stifling in the bus, and Nevaeh’s shirt clung to all the wrong spots. Along the route to Mexico, she’d found a hairband and pulled her hair into a messy topknot, but it did nothing to keep the perspiration from rolling down her neck.
Some of the other passengers had gotten out of their seats to speak to the driver, asking about air conditioning, but he only said it was on. Clearly, it was not. The conditions were miserable, but she was on her way to Mexico and couldn’t back out, so she’d just have to deal with her spine sticking to the vinyl bus seat.
Outside the foggy window, the landscape didn’t change much between Texas and Mexico—same earth, same types of vegetation that survived with little water during these hot months.
Soon she’d arrive at the same hostel where Antonio had last been seen. She had little idea of what to do once she got there, but she’d figure it out. This was her one chance—her only hope. She didn’t put much faith in those Texas Rangers taking renewed interest in the case—after all, she’d been here before. Several times, in fact.
Back at home, she hoped her parents were keeping busy as she’d told them to. Daddy needed to keep working or risk being let go, and it was good for him to get out of the house. Her mother was more difficult.
She’d lost her job after her son’s disappearance and had been such a basket-case since that she hadn’t been able to hold another position. Nevaeh had suggested her mother work on some of her sewing projects she sometimes took in for people, and her mother had nodded in agreement, but Nevaeh had seen that blank look in her mother’s eyes that told her she had shut down again… the sign in the storefront turned to closed.
Letting out a sigh, she took a bandanna and wiped at her neck. First thing she’d do when she arrived at the hostel was shower. She needed to feel cool and clean. Then she’d have a look around and formulate a plan.
Across the aisle, a woman had a little girl snuggled on her lap. The child’s legs dangled over her thigh, swaying with the movement of the bus. Her thumb was plugged in her mouth and her big brown eyes wide and staring as kids did right before falling asleep.
Nevaeh didn’t want to stare, but it was hard not to look at people and see how their lives progressed while she was stuck, in a standstill. After her brother disappeared, she had gone on to graduate from high school, do a stint for business in a community college and land a job at a solid government agency that gave public assistance. But she hadn’t truly lived.
The woman across from her—she’d found love in the man who sat at her side and they’d shared that bond by creating a child.
Nevaeh had given up dating, and she was well aware of how that wall she’d erected to keep out the pain of her loss had kept out everyone else too. Her ideas of what her adulthood would be like had twisted into a confusing knot that cinched tighter by the year. Lately, she’d begun to wonder if she could ever pick it apart if she had the chance.
The child’s eyes dropped shut. After a minute, her mouth went slack and her thumb fell to her lap. The bus went on swaying, the landscape trundling by Nevaeh’s window.
Instead of dwelling on the things she couldn’t control, she tried to organize her thoughts into things she could. First, she’d have a thorough look around the hostel. Having never been in one before, she wasn’t sure what to expect, but stories were that they were places kids went to party on spring break and could sometimes be scary, with seedy people sharing the same bathrooms or rooms being easily broken into and personal belongings stolen.
At least she hadn’t brought anything of value with her—a knapsack filled with clothes, her debit card and a very small amount of cash she planned to exchange for some pesos.
She dazed out for a while, her mind wandering over places she’d visit to try to retrace her brother’s footsteps that fateful day he’d gone missing. When the bus came to a stop, she jolted into awareness.
Sitting up straight, her back peeled away from the seat, and she stifled a groan. People around her began collecting their items and getting to their feet, and Nevaeh did too.
With her backpack slung over her shoulder, she made her slow way up the aisle to the doors of the bus. The street was busy, milling with tourists and pedestrians. She knotted her bandanna around her throat. Her attire would fit right in with everyone else—loose cotton pants, a tank top and the bandanna. She had comfortable sandals on her feet and nothing about her would stick out, which was what she wanted.
When she reached the steps, she descended and stepped onto concrete. The crowd propelled her on for some time, but soon she got her bearings and took off on foot in the direction of the hostel. She’d studied a map for two straight days so she had enough confidence to make it to her destinations. A lost tourist would be a target, and she didn’t want to put herself in a bad situation.
The sights, scents and sounds of the city would be infectious and invite excitement on any other occasion, but Nevaeh’s reason for being here was more depressing than these people probably saw in a lifetime. Actually, she hoped that was the case—nobody should suffer the way she and her parents had this past decade.
Walking the street gave her some new ideas about places to visit and ask about Antonio. A computer shop could perhaps offer some clues, if it had been in business when Antonio had been there, of course.
The hostel she arrived at was painted a bright pink and yellow in keeping with the festive colors of the city. In front was a short block wall painted yellow as well, and a few people sat there talking and laughing.
She approached the door, heart pounding. Is this what Antonio had seen upon coming here? The place looked freshly painted, so she doubted it was this well kept at that time.
Through the front door was an open space that the warm breeze washed through. She welcomed the feel of the breeze on her sweaty body as she stated her name and checked in. She was given a key and the directions to the staircase leading to her room.
The interior was painted a pale blue, and again, she doubted it had been this bright and airy when Antonio visited. At least she’d always imagined someplace seedy, dark and filled with all the wrong sort of people, smoking with needle tracks up their arms.
The thought that she might have been wrong all these years, that her brother hadn’t faced dangers she’d imagined, threw her off-balance.
A door in the hallway slammed, and she heard giggles behind it. Locating her own room, she used the key and stepped inside. She’d paid for a private space, but if you had a smaller budget you could share a room with a stranger. That did not appeal—at all—so she’d shelled out a few extra bucks and gladly.
Inside her room,
it smelled faintly of grilled corn. She drifted to the window and looked down on a courtyard where some people were grilling. Smoke rose upward, the source of the smell.
Her stomach rumbled. After her shower, she’d find food.
Another glance around the space revealed a simple bed with a white cover. There was no pillow, which she hadn’t expected, so she’d need to ask about that. First things first—the shower.
With her knapsack on her shoulder, she went back out into the hallway and found the one bathroom on this floor that many would share. When she entered, a man looked up from the sink where he was brushing his teeth. With the brush sticking out of his mouth, he offered her a smile. She nodded and moved past him toward the showers.
The last thing she wanted was to be raped here, so she had to be watchful. She didn’t know these people and would not let down her guard.
Tucking her bag into a corner where she could keep an eye on it from the open shower, she washed quickly and dried off even faster, using a towel she’d brought from home. Then she dressed in a clean pair of jeans and another tank top. This time she tied a bandanna around her hair like a headband but kept the topknot. It was too hot to have all her heavy hair shrouding her shoulders.
Feeling much improved, she went back downstairs and stepped onto the street once more, in search of sustenance. Maybe some grilled corn.
* * * * *
The moment Nash entered the hostel, he sensed a tension hanging in the air. When he and his guys had checked in here earlier, the atmosphere had not been so… what was the word? Guarded.
He gave Woody the side-eye and they peeled off throughout the downstairs common rooms, on high alert. The other guys did the same, fanning themselves in the spaces. To outward appearances, they were just young guys who’d come to Mexico to party. Nash tugged at the collar of his T-shirt, and he couldn’t’ tell if he was just the heat of the day or the repressed vibe in the place.
He swept his gaze over the room and stopped dead.
