Blindsided
Still Ethan had to try.
He had stepped up to her, planning to confiscate the gun and turn it on Guerra, but instead he said the first thing that came to his mind. The word ransom spilled from his lips. The only other thing Guerra liked more than torturing people was money. Veronica Spencer was worth a huge chunk of change. But still, as Ethan threw out the idea to ransom her, his lungs seized as he waited for Guerra’s response. He thought for sure his cover was blown. A year’s worth of going deep, tanked. An innocent woman’s life, ended.
No. Not innocent. Ethan had to believe the evidence Pace had on the glamour girl. Enough to put her away for years. There were even pictures from a street race in Miami with her and Guerra. And as soon as Ethan could get her “ransomed” out of here, Pace could cuff her, and Ethan could get back to bringing down Guerra’s ring—and the man he worked for.
As much as Franco Guerra was a despicable man, he wasn’t the man Pace wanted. Guerra was a car thief and mechanic, a means to much more sinister crimes that his cloned vehicles contributed to.
The man waiting for the cars was the real prize.
Ethan had no name at this point, just the term Guerra used: the Boss.
The Boss was in charge of a whole list of crimes, but it was what he transported in these vans that was beyond comprehension. Drugs, yes, and lots of them. But apparently, the Boss didn’t get the memo that the slave trade had ended. He trafficked thousands of victims in and around the United States each year, and Ethan had finally worked his way up to being one degree away from taking down one of the largest human trafficking operations in the States.
So close he was to cracking this case and infiltrating the operation successfully. So close he was to breaking free thousands of victims by putting away their owner.
So close.
The woman screeched again, an earsplitting sound, a reminder that he had another person to break out of here first. Get Veronica Spencer out before the whole investigation went down.
And if he could, do it without giving himself away.
She kicked the rear door for the hundredth time, and Guerra laughed with delight. “The chica’s got fire in her. I look forward to snuffing it out.”
Ethan’s stomach clenched along with his teeth. He fought the urge to pull over and arrest the sleazy man right there. Instead, he smiled Guerra’s way and hoped that it covered his true feelings well.
As well as his growing doubts in Roni Spencer’s guilt.
If she was working for the Boss like Pace said, why would Guerra try to take her out? A little disagreement between accomplices? Jealousy?
Or was this whole scene staged, made to look as if she was innocent in front of...who?
Him?
Ethan sent a quick look Guerra’s way. Had the man figured out he had an agent in his presence?
Ethan’s hand curled tight around the steering wheel. “Are you going to give me some directions, or are we just going to drive all night?” he asked, acting as if he didn’t really care.
“The Boss wants us to bring our feisty chica to him. He also wants to meet you. He was impressed with your vision to go big and ransom the woman. You just earned your way into the big house. What do you think of that?”
Ethan’s saliva glands juiced. He could taste the victory with this case already. So close had just become right now.
Ethan envisioned the win being handed to him on a silver platter, although knowing the extent of this ring, the platter would be solid gold. He couldn’t wait to tag the platter as Asset Forfeiture, and every other piece of property stolen by this crime ring. If he believed God cared one bit about him he might have thought he was being handed the win as some sort of reward. But that couldn’t be the case. God would never give him anything. And Ethan definitely didn’t deserve a reward, nor did he want any favors. He’d learned it was best never to expect any, especially in his line of work. He had a job to do, and he did it alone. Period.
Ethan switched lanes and answered Guerra’s question with an aloof shrug. “Should be interesting, but I was looking for some pocket change. I thought we were going to ransom the woman. What could the Boss possibly want with Spencer?”
Guerra stilled and glared at him with his beady black eyes. The man didn’t appear to buy Ethan’s nonchalance.
Ethan readied to spring into fight mode, his gun within reach in his ankle holster.
“Remember, muchacho, I’m putting my life on the line by bringing you along. I could leave you right here, if you catch my drift.”
Ethan locked his eyes on Guerra’s black-gazed warning. Slowly, Ethan smirked as if to say, is this a joke? A slow rumble of a laugh erupted from his tight vocal cords. The bluff was a risk, but no fear could be shown or he would be pushing up this spring’s daisies along the roadside.
Guerra smirked in return and chuckled, too, at first low, then loud and cackled. A laughing hyena came to mind, all sharp teeth bared in a wide-open mouth; 100 percent vicious and sickly illuminated by the lights of the dashboard. “The Boss is going to like you, Ethan Gunn. Keep heading north. We’re going to the border. Right outside Canada in a logging community. The middle of nowhere, really. Wait till you see this place. Our chica might never want to leave, if she even could.”
Ethan stilled his hands on the wheel. Once again Guerra’s words didn’t sit right. “And we’ll ransom her there?”
“We’ll see,” Franco said with a small smile and looked out his window. End of conversation.
Again, Roni Spencer felt like a victim in all this, not an accomplice. She felt like an innocent civilian caught up in his investigation.
Ethan bit down on the inside of his cheek, remembering the last civilian he’d snagged in an investigation—and nearly got killed. He’d vowed never again. Solo or no-go. That’s how it had to be with him.
Ethan peered into the rearview mirror to the woman tied up in the back. Not a noise or movement could be heard now. He doubted she’d fallen asleep. She had to be listening to them. Had Guerra’s words ground her impudence into fear? Was she feeling as sick as he was? He had to stop this from going any further.
“I don’t think we should be bringing her,” Ethan said. “She doesn’t seem the type to go quietly. She could get us all killed.”
“Boss’s orders, and what he says, goes. I don’t think you want to get on his bad side. And not mine either. Now drive.” Guerra put his gun on his lap, his trigger finger itching to make his point.
Ethan continued north and thought of his tracking chip sewn into the inseam of his boot. He trusted Pace to be charting his every move north and following with the team. They wouldn’t be too far behind and would be ready to move in with guns blazing if Ethan needed them. But only if. Anything earlier would jeopardize the investigation, and Pace wouldn’t make his move a moment too soon.
Ethan drove on, leading Pace to the Boss, but that also meant leading Roni Spencer into even more danger. Whether she was a criminal or civilian didn’t matter.
He shot another look in the rearview mirror. The bundle on the floor remained still and quiet. Regardless of what Pace believed about her, something told Ethan he’d just graduated from undercover car thief in this operation to nefarious human trafficker. And Roni Spencer was his first delivery.
TWO
Roni’s aching head took hit after hit as the van bounced over a deep-rutted road. Logging roads in the middle of nowhere. They’d left the smooth highways a while ago and traveled far enough from her home that none of her family would ever find her. Not the one in the CIA, and not even Wade’s intelligent service dog, Promise.
The van thumped again and Roni forced her eyelids closed, swapping the tormenting darkness of her shroud for a darkness she controlled. Her arms and legs had long gone numb from the constricting ropes bound to her appendages. They drove her to near insanity, but not as much as her fear. In this moment of stark terror, all she wanted was her mom.
The image that formed in Roni’s mind wasn’t one of the photographs that portrayed her birth mother, but instead, a living and breathing woman, Cora Daniels, came to mind.
Cora was so much more than the family’s maid. She had worked for the Spencers long before Roni was born. It was Cora who cared for Roni so lovingly after the loss of her parents. It was Cora who filled the role as mother through the many surgeries on Roni’s burns and through the emotional pain that followed for so long after. It was Cora who made sure Roni never felt left behind, not when her parents died and not when Wade left for the army. Cora was Roni’s support team when her blood relatives weren’t, when her own uncle—her guardian—found her lacking. Roni pushed thoughts of Uncle Clay away. She didn’t need his negativity in her moment of life-and-death. She refocused on Cora’s loving face in her mind.
As long as she had Cora by her side, Roni pushed on. A life without her would be unbearable.
Cora’s last conversation with her that morning at breakfast filtered in. She’d brought up retirement again. Roni shook it off just as she had that morning.
Every time Cora brought it up Roni would cover her ears and sing “You Are My Sunshine” out loud. It had been their song since the day Roni woke up in the hospital wrapped in gauze. Only then it had been Cora singing because it would be a long time before Roni felt well enough to sing, or talk, or even whisper.
The van took a sharp right and came to a screeching halt, jamming Roni against the side wall. There was nothing Cora could do for her now. These men were killers, and the only way she would survive would be to play by the rules until a ten-second window opened up. Ten seconds would be all she needed to make her getaway.
The rear van doors creaked open and harsh hands pulled her out, feetfirst. Her covering was lifted off her head, exposing the two main criminals from her garage.
Her gaze caught the baby blues, and she dismissed their owner with a turn of her head.
“Time to meet the Boss, chica,” said the short, vicious one. He whipped the gag out of her mouth. “Don’t bother screaming. No one will hear you out here.” He tossed a head to reference the thick black forest around her.
She’d been taken to the middle of nowhere. On a sigh, she nodded her acceptance to remain silent and Gunn untied her feet to allow her to walk. Compliance would lead her to that window of escape. Except when she came around the van, the sight before her halted her in her tracks.
“What’s the matter, chica? Never seen a castle before? This one comes complete with a dungeon.” He pushed her toward a solid stone structure and her hope threatened to wane.
So much for windows.
* * *
Ethan walked behind Roni Spencer, his senses on full alert. Were Pace and his backup crew far behind? Would they arrive before the trio entered this stone monstrosity? He listened for them, but the only sound he heard was Roni’s boots clicking on the cobblestones. His men would know something was up when Ethan’s tracker alerted them to his moving away from the racetrack and Norcastle. Without a phone call to say why, they would swoop in. Ethan braced for the deluge of FBI agents that he hoped would make their move before the towering entrance doors closed behind them. His hand flexed for the moment he would retrieve his gun from the holster at his ankle and join in. His heart raced with the anticipation of finally taking Guerra down. Ethan would make sure he missed the grass and hit the cobblestones when he did.
As soon as Pace saw Roni was here, he would go after her with cuffs. Ethan knew it even without a briefing. His handler didn’t like the woman and itched to take her down. If Ethan didn’t know better, he would think there was something personal between the two, but then, the woman was getting richer off the organization and Pace had been working this case for years. Ethan couldn’t fault his friend for being disgusted with the whole organization and anyone involved. But he also couldn’t allow the man to mistreat Roni when he took her in. She didn’t deserve that. She deserved...what? Fairness?
The evidence said otherwise.
But the idea of her face slammed up against the stone walkway beside Guerra’s had Ethan stepping up close behind her. And just like that he made the decision to let Pace take down Guerra instead. A year of anticipation of doing the job himself flitted away on the basis of protecting this woman. Pace would say he’d gone soft. Him, Ethan Rhodes, an ex-hoodlum from South LA whose absentee father had hardened him to granite, soft. He scoffed.
Franco whipped around. “Problem, Gunn?”
Ethan stretched his fingers to make a grab for his holstered weapon. Staying undercover was crucial until his men made their appearance. If he blew it now, he wouldn’t be the only one dead. There were others working this ring from other places. Corrupt nail salons, massage parlors, even country clubs. The message would be out that the investigation was compromised. The runners of the business fronts would retaliate, and the FBI agents working them would pay. Not to mention, the whole investigation would be botched and back to square one.
Ethan gave his uncaring shrug. “No problem. Just amazed at the elaborate digs the Boss has.”
Guerra’s snarl turned to an agreeing smile under the spotlights beaming down on them and most likely recording their every word. Ethan looked forward to confiscating the surveillance to see who else had come through these doors in the past. He wouldn’t stop until this whole outfit—and everyone a part of it—was disassembled. He looked at the back of Roni’s black leather coat, her long silky hair cascading down it, and thought whatever it took, he would deliver...even her.
The huge wooden door ahead of them opened slowly on silent hinges. A man dressed in a black suit with jet-black hair waited on the other side. He stood tall with his arms down in a relaxed pose. The cavernous room behind him displayed the heads of elk and bear. Ethan judged the bear to be a grizzly but didn’t dare take his eyes off the man to be sure.
“Bring her into the light,” the man ordered. Franco went to push Roni forward, but she stepped up willingly.
Too willingly, Ethan thought. Was there any fear in the woman at all?
Or maybe her involvement was more than opening her track to the organization. Maybe she’d been here before. Would he find her on the surveillance?
Ethan gave a last hooded search to the tree line. Anytime, boys, he thought. But no hint of backup didn’t mean they weren’t out there. He trusted his team to show up when he needed them most.
The man at the door said, “Veronica Spencer, is it?”
Ethan perked an ear for the direction of the conversation in front of him. It would determine his next move. If things went south his gun would be coming out with or without backup.
“Yes. I’m Veronica Spencer.” Roni lifted her chin, her voice clear of any hesitation.
“You’re very pretty.”
Ethan couldn’t see Roni’s face as he waited for her response...which didn’t come.
So, flattery was all it took to silence Roni Spencer’s tongue? Fancy that.
The man pressed in close to her, and Ethan moved up, as well. The guy lifted a hand to her hair. Ethan spread his fingers to make ready for a grab.
“I said, you’re very pretty. Has anyone ever told you that?”
She shrugged. “Sure, but I never believed it.”
The man smiled from one side of his mouth. “Let me assure you, you are.”
“Oh, well, if you assure me, then it must be true.”
Sarcasm. Thick as the wood beams holding this cavern up.
Ethan stifled a cough. Was the woman blind to the danger? Why would she throw the man’s compliment back in his face?
If this was the Boss, Roni could have just signed her death warrant. If the woman kept this up, Ethan figured saving sand from slipping through his fingers would be easier than keeping her alive.
The silence in the room thickened as the man studied her face. Her response confounded him just as much as it did Ethan.
Was this even the leader of the organization? Or another scout?
The man cleared his throat. “I’ve arranged a room for you upstairs. You’ll find it comfortable...and what you’re accustomed to, I’m sure.”
So the guy knew who he had. Maybe that would help Ethan keep her alive.
“I don’t plan to be here long,” she said flippantly.
Ethan fisted his hands and pressed his lips. Oh, why couldn’t this woman be the docile type?
A scar at the corner of the man’s eye ticked. Ethan willed Roni to pick up on the fine line she pushed against. The guy leaned in closer and so did Ethan, ready to remove Roni from his reach.
“Is that right? Was I wrong to show you hospitality, then?” he asked with eyebrows raised to the high wood-paneled ceilings.
“No, you will be compensated accordingly, sir,” Roni replied. “I can promise you that.”
The man’s brown eyes darkened; his jaw clicked. He looked to Franco Guerra with a snarl. “Guerra, I will see you in my office. Now.”
Guerra dropped his gaze with his nod. The response from the car thief spiked Ethan’s curiosity. Never had Ethan seen Franco drop his gaze to anyone.
Ethan’s heart picked up its pace, even as he set his face to be void of emotion. It wasn’t fear he checked. It was pure joy. He was in, and he’d found the mark. Or “the Boss” as Guerra called him, the head of the whole organization.
The heavy door slammed behind Ethan, echoing through the gaudy monstrosity funded by crime and jolting him back to his role here.
A young maid stepped out from behind a closed door, her head bent so low only the top of her silky black hair showed. Guerra cowered off like a leashed dog to the rear of the hall, and Ethan took a step to follow the men. Then two guards who were obviously packing heat followed the maid out into the hall and nodded to Roni to move up the stairs with them.
Ethan took a last look at the backs of Guerra and the Boss. He had a decision to make: find the evidence to take this crime ring down, or stay by Roni’s side and protect her with his life.
He took the stairs. Mutters beneath his breath denied he was going soft.
Pace’s voice in his head protested otherwise.
* * *
Roni’s jail cell gleamed with expensive golden decor likely imported from around the world. The white sateen feather blanket on the canopied bed looked luxurious and comfortable.
She avoided finding out.
The beauty of the room juxtaposed with the ugliness of her captivity made her blind to her surroundings’ appeal. No matter the extravagance, the room was still a jail cell.
Roni scanned the space for possible exits and cameras. She figured at least one guard stood out in the hall, if not more. Big Brother was watching. She cringed at the feeling.
So far her compliancy kept her from whatever nightmare was below the first floor. Could it really be a dungeon in the accurate sense of the word? Who built dungeons these days? Then again, who built castles?
Her own town of Norcastle had an old castle situated on top of the mountain, but it had been built by an eccentric relative of an English duke who moved to America nearly two hundred years ago. The building was now a historic landmark for tourists and hikers to climb to during the summer months.
But this place was different. A newly built replica of a medieval fortress designed for the sole purpose of flaunting wealth.
But wealth from what? she wondered. What exactly did the owner, “the Boss” as she overheard Guerra call him in the van, do to earn all this?
More importantly, how much money would appease him for her ransom if he had such extravagance already?
Roni approached the vanity. A three-way mirror caught her multiple reflections at different angles. Her gaze went to her scarf. From one side, her scars hid beneath the fabric. But not on her right. The right side had a way of peeking out. Jared reminded her of this whenever they were together. She made the adjustment to rectify it just as he would have. In this case, she would have let him. Something told her she had to make the Boss believe she was worth every penny he demanded from her family.
She wondered if they’d been notified yet and absently rubbed her fingers over the fabric of the chair.
“Mulberry silk,” she mumbled when the unique texture stole her attention. The finest and softest silk in the world. She would know after testing them all around her neck. She also knew it to be the most expensive and, at its exorbitant price, she’d passed on it for something less pretentious.
But this guy had furniture made with the stuff.
Again, her captor did not need her family’s money. He had his own. And a lot more than she’d ever seen.
So then, what did he want? Why was she here?
A soft knock came, and Roni heard the lock click over. She straightened up to receive whoever was about to enter.
“Come in,” she said, as if she had the authority to say otherwise.
Roni expected her captor, but when the door opened, the young woman who had led her upstairs returned with satin-tied bundles of linens, her head of black hair bowed as she entered without a sound. The girl hadn’t said a word to Roni before and didn’t appear to want to talk now as she walked to the bathroom. With the main door wide, Roni stepped up to look down the hall, ready to make a run for it.
But just as she noticed the hall clear on one side, Gunn filled the doorway with his massive build and stopped her. The man was a boulder, sharp contours and all, and she would be going nowhere with him as her guard.
“Just checking the accommodations,” he said, looking beyond her into her room. “I see you even have your own maid.”
“There’s also no windows, so you don’t have to worry about me making a break for it,” she spouted back. “Has my family been notified about my ransom?”
“Not yet. Is there another exit from the room? Through the bathroom, maybe?”
“I already told you there’s no way out.” She crossed her arms at her front.
“I was thinking more along the lines of someone getting in. But just in case, I’ll be right outside your door. Count on it.” Then he leaned in, his clean-shaven jaw brushing her cheek, and she nearly jumped back from the shock he gave. “I’m going to get you out of here,” he whispered against her ear, but she barely registered his words. Frustrated with the light-headed response his closeness caused, she shoved him away from her.
“So you can take the ransom for yourself? I wouldn’t go anywhere with you.” Roni slammed the door closed on his face and took delight in having the last word. Then the lock clicked back over, taking even that away from her.
On a huff, she checked herself before she turned to face the young girl. The maid stood by the bed, her head still bowed, but the bedcovers had been pulled back.
“Hello,” Roni said, hoping the girl would engage.
She only nodded in reply. Her lashes blinked, a seemingly nervous reaction to Roni’s greeting.
“Did I say something wrong?” Roni asked.
A low reply came. “They don’t like us talking. Only working. I can help you get ready for bed now.”
“Who’s us? You and me?”
The girl shook her head. “Other girls. Please, senorita, let me help you. I can’t be gone too long.”
Roni ignored the plea in her voice. Something felt off in this already off place. “There’re more girls like you? How many?”
“My counting is not so good. And the number, it...it changes.”
“Changes? Because girls quit?” Roni would have to think the turnover was pretty high in this warped place.
The girl’s silky hair swished side to side with the shake of her head, but no answer came. Instead she peered out from behind her hair at the corner of the room as though someone watched. A wave of nausea swept over Roni. The picture of captivity this girl painted for her had all the details Roni needed to put two and two together—and what it meant for her. The owner’s earlier compliment of her beauty sickened her even more. Guerra and Gunn had paraded her in here like some horse to be put on the auction block. “They have no intention of ransoming me, do they?”