Did he know what had happened to her? He was due to return from Vegas and meet her in DC. No doubt the shooting had made prime time news. And he was probably going insane trying to find her.
She glanced out the side window. A young girl was swinging around a pole in a small patch of grass in front of them. Rows of boats were moored down the long dock. A couple of buildings lined the street. Could she make it to one of them?
Discreetly pulling on the door handle, she waited until she heard the click and pushed against the door. She scrambled out of the vehicle. Her jelly legs failed her. Putting her hands out to cushion her fall, she hit the asphalt. Stinging pain radiated up her arms and through her knees.
She got her feet under her and stood. The dockside restaurant was about a football field away from her. She prayed she could run that far. Or at least far enough to catch someone’s attention inside the building. Launching forward, she used the hood of the vehicle parked next to them to aid her in standing, and scurried around the front end.
She just needed someone to see her. See she was in danger.
“Mia!” The man yelled from behind her. “Stop, or the little girl dies.”
A chill ran up her spine. Slowly she turned around. The young girl sat pulling blades of grass out throwing them into the air. Completely oblivious the threat behind her. The man held a gun against his body, aimed at the back of the girl’s head.
“Stop or I’ll pull the trigger,” he sneered. “You don’t want to be the cause of this pretty little girl bleeding to death right here on the sidewalk, do you?”
The girl looked at Mia and smiled. Had she not heard what the man said? Mia wanted to tell the girl to run, but knew the man would shoot her anyway. While it would get the attention of people in the restaurant and anyone on the dock, she couldn’t do that. Even if it meant Mia could escape, she wouldn’t sacrifice an innocent girl’s life.
Mia put her hands out in front of her. “N-No, please--don’t hurt her.” Her heart filled with enough dread to make her feet heavy as she shuffled back toward the car. “I’ll come with you. Just please don’t do anything to her.
When Mia was within his reach, the man shoved the gun back into his waistband and
wrapped his hand around Mia’s bicep. His fingers dug into her skin. “Try something like that again and I will shoot you right here. Then you will never see your precious Ben again.”
She stopped moving. Her breathing hitched, and her heart beat too fast in her chest. Fuck! He knew Ben’s name. Which meant the RRA knew about Ben and his connection to Mia.
Was this all a trap?
If so, Ben and the rest of The 13 were walking straight into without a clue.
Chapter Six
Riley rejoined them and glanced into the trunk of the car. “That’s quite a treasure trove of unusual items to have in a rental car while on a business trip.”
“Unless your business is to shoot up a courtroom and kidnap a someone who is testifying against one of your comrades and about to expose your terrorist organization,” Ben responded.
“True.”
Lance tossed the rope he held back into the trunk. “Who called you?”
“Flaherty,” she said. “I’m having him run the corporation and Truxton through the system and see what information he can find. Maybe we’ll get lucky and there will be an obvious link to the RRA.”
“And maybe I’ll grow wings and sprinkle fairy dust everywhere,” Lance said.
Riley shrugged. “A girl can hope—on both counts.”
A grin spread across Lance’s face, taking Ben by surprise. Lance seemed to be in perpetual stoic mode. But something about Riley forced his veneer to weaken a bit. Probably because they worked so closely together and seemed to have a strong friendship.
Unless there was more there? Ben shrugged off the thought. Time to consider that later, when he had Mia back.
An overwhelming sense of failure doused him like a cold wave. He had sworn Mia he would protect her. She trusted him to take care of her—to be there when she needed him. And when she faced one of the most daunting tasks in her life, where had he been? Not by her side. If he had been, things would be much different. He would have gotten her out of the courthouse safely.
And they would be together.
The woman deserved some peace in her life. Even before she discovered the money-laundering scheme through Hutton’s Foundation, she had been through hell. She hadn’t told Ben everything about her ex-boyfriend, but she had told him enough for Ben to know that she had suffered mentally and physically. He had held her hostage and beaten her so severely she had been hospitalized for a while recovering.
But she had made it through, and come out stronger. She had survived being held by the RRA at the Colombian compound. And, if it was the last thing Ben did in this life, he was going to make sure she lived a very long and happy life—free from the threat of the RRA.
Shouts reverberated through the structure. A swarm of cops and FBI agents circled the SUV, their voices a loud buzz from across the garage. Ben swallowed the bile and fear surging up his throat and through his chest. He was in a dead run toward the vehicle, only vaguely aware of the pounding of Lance and Riley’s footsteps behind him. Sweat gathered in his armpits. Dread fueled him on. He prayed that by some miracle Mia had been found—alive.
He halted beside Letz. His face was grim, eyes distant. He said nothing, just continued to stare into the interior of the SUV. Ben inhaled deeply, almost afraid to see what was inside the vehicle.
Two men lay in pools of blood. Each had holes in their necks and heads, the areas not protected by their Kevlar vests.
“Who are they?” Riley asked Letz, her voice low.
“The two marshals we thought were with Mia safe and sound somewhere in the DC area,” he said.
Staggering back, Ben bent at the knees. He held his gut, forcing himself not to wretch—not at the sight of all the blood, he was used to seeing more blood on the battlefield—but at what the blood represented.
Dead Marshals were a good indication the RRA had Mia.
And if they did, chances were good she was already dead.
Chapter Seven
“Now, we are going to walk down the dock and get onto my boat,” the man whispered, “and you are going to be a good little girl, Mia, and do as your told. I’d hate for Ben and his merry band of SEALs to find your body floating in the marina.”
Her head was in the clouds, still fogged by the drugs in her system, and unsure what to do. Say fuck it and make a run for it? Risk getting shot in the back and killed? Or go with this man, wait for her brain to clear, and figure out a plan to warn Ben and the team?
She had to tell them not to come after her. Rescuing her would lead to all of them being ambushed and killed. There was no way of knowing where this man was going to take her. Or how many men would be waiting at the other end of this excursion for Ben and the team to show up. If she attempted to get away now, it was certain death, and the terrorist behind her would find another way to get to Ben. He would never know they knew who he was. He would be vulnerable. They could kill him and the rest of the team, and the information she had would be wasted, if she died without letting them know. Going with her kidnapper afforded her the best opportunity of saving Ben.
She nodded her head.
“Good girl. I knew you were smart. Now, we’re going to walk arm-in-arm to the boat like a happy couple.” Something poked into her ribs. “If you attempt to run or get anyone’s attention, I will shoot you and toss your lifeless body into the bay. Are we clear?”
She held her breath wanting to tell him to fuck a horse in the ass and die, but held her tongue. Ben’s life was in her hands, along with the rest of the team, and she needed to do everything she could to make sure they survived.
Dying now would not make that happen.
Even if it meant she would still die later. She would give her life for Ben without hesitation.
They walked to the end of the pier and boarded a
large yacht. Once on, the man led her to a lower stateroom, forced her to sit on the bed, and pulled out a syringe.
“No, please,” she begged and squirmed to get away. She needed a clear head to come up with a plan.
Pushing her back against the mattress, the man straddled her chest and plunged the syringe into her upper arm. Leaning over her, he brushed his lips against her cheek. “Sleep, dear Mia. Everything will be clear once we reach our destination.”
Darkness enveloped her, and she sunk into nothingness.
Chapter Eight
The temperature had dropped significantly, and rain had started to fall. Soon the roads would be black ice and driving would be treacherous. DC drivers only knew two speeds—really slow or excessively fast. There was no in between.
Ben clicked the key fob and locked the doors to the rental car. Rain dripped from his hair down his back, sending a wave of goose bumps over his skin. He pulled the collar of his jacket tighter around his head and neck, and jogged to the front door of the CIA building.
His boots squeaked on the linoleum floors despite how vigorously he tried to dry them on the mat. He waved his military ID in front of the black security pad. The lock clicked and he yanked the door open and walked into the TOC. Flaherty sat at a desk, his head shifting back and forth between two computer monitors. Ben stepped beside him. The contrast between the bitter cold outside and the heat coming from a vent over his head made sweat break out over his skin, and he mopped his brow.
Flaherty glanced at Ben. “Humps.” His eyes dipped down at the corners. “Sorry about Mia.” Flaherty had been instrumental in helping Ben, Lance, Mason, and Mia get out of the country to avoid being arrested for murder while they attempted to figure out who was laundering money from Hutton’s charitable foundation. All the guys had grown close to Mia during that impromptu operation, and were fiercely protective of her.
And all of them seemed to be grappling with how they had failed her. Ben the most.
“Any new information?” he asked. Flaherty shook his head, his lips forming a tight line. “Are Riley and Lance here?”
“I don’t think they ever left.” Flaherty pointed to an office off to the right of where they stood. “In there.”
“Thanks, man.” Ben walked across the space, thankful the soles of his boots had dried and the obnoxious squeaking eliminated. The office door was open. Lance sat in a chair across from Riley, the phone receiver to her ear. Ben lightly rapped on the doorframe.
Lance waved him in. Ben took the chair next to Lance. Riley glanced at Ben and gave him a head nod in greeting.
“Thanks, I owe you,” Riley said and hung up the phone. “Flaherty,” she called out. When he came into the office, she handed him a piece of paper. “Start tracking these GPS coordinates.”
“Sure thing.” He studied the paper in his hand. “Cell phone?” He lifted his gaze to Riley’s. “Do I get to know who I’m tracking?”
“Alina Sokolov.”
Ben’s heart leapt and took off racing. Ben had met Alina prior to going on a blind date with Mia—the night they had both been thrust into the center of the RRA’s terrorist plot. Only afterwards had he learned Alina was a member of the RRA.
“You think she has something to do with this?” Ben asked, his chest clenching, making it difficult to breath.
“Nothing concrete,” Riley said. “Doesn’t hurt to keep track of her—especially now.”
“If the RRA has Mia, Alina may lead us to where they are holding her,” Lance added.
“So, basically, pulling shit out of our asses.” Ben felt helpless, which was an odd place for him to be. He was the one who knew how to overcome obstacles and save people’s lives. But this—this was testing him. He couldn’t strap on his gear, dead drop from a helo, and rescue Mia while shooting anyone who got in his way. He had to sit and wait for the bad guys to make a move.
But the RRA didn’t kidnap Mia simply to prevent her testifying about their operation. They also wanted to avenge the deaths of their comrades. And to kill her. Any negotiating with them for her release were on hold until, and unless, the RRA contacted them to make a deal for her life. The more time that passed, it seemed there was little chance of that happening.
“It’s a long shot—we’re not even sure how involved in the RRA Alina is or whether they would bring her in on this—but if there’s a chance she can provide some information that will lead us in the right direction, we have to give it a try,” Riley said.
The phone on her desk rang. She answered it, and was quiet as she listened to the voice on the other end. The only thing Ben could make out was a male voice, but not who was calling. Riley’s brows furrowed and she scowled. Whatever was being said was not good news.
“You’re sure?” Riley asked. She blew her breath noisily out through her mouth and nose, her cheeks puffed out like a blowfish. “Okay, thanks for the update.”
“Who was that?” Lance asked.
“Letz,” Riley said. “He said the dead marshal’s weapons were holstered and had full magazines.”
Lance quirked an eyebrow. “No missing bullets from any of the guns?”
Riley shook her head.
“Then who shot the dead RRA members?” Ben asked. It was unlikely the RRA would kill their own men. “And who the fuck took Mia?”
“Rogue RRA player, perhaps?” Riley said. “Maybe a member who wasn’t happy with the way his comrades were handling the situation?”
Lance nodded. “Perhaps didn’t support what the RRA was going to do to her, and is trying to save her.”
“It would make sense we haven’t heard from them because they are laying low and hiding from the RRA,” Riley added.
The explanations were plausible, but didn’t feel right to Ben. So far, everyone he had met connected to the Russian terrorist organization was ruthless and believed deeply in the political cause. The idea that one of them would suddenly grow a conscience and risk his life to save Mia was highly suspect.
“Whether it’s true or not, we need to find out where she is before the RRA does,” Riley said. “I doubt they are just giving up on finding her, and will continue to look for her until they can recover her.”
And finish what they set out to do, Ben thought.
Kill her.
“So, where do we go from here?” Lance asked.
“Norfolk,” Riley responded. “Turns out Truxton is alive and well and willing to meet with us.”
“So, not Mia’s kidnapper.” Ben said, the thought deflating his waning hope of finding Mia.
Riley shook her head. “Not necessarily. It’s possible he is still RRA and holding her at his house—or somewhere else close by.”
“Or knows where she is,” Lance said.
A small ball of optimism warmed his chest. There was still a chance—a small chance—but it was enough to keep Ben from losing his shit and falling into a pit of despair.
He stood and walked to the door. “Let’s see what Truxton has to say. I need Mia back home.”
Chapter Nine
The sound of the ocean pulled Mia from sleep. With a heavy head, she opened her eyes no more than slits. She was on top of a mattress, covered by a thin comforter. The air was warm and humid. The smell of sea salt wafted around her.
She leveraged her hands on either side of her, and managed to slide to a semi-inclined position on the bed. Red clay tiled floors and open walls led to a lanai. Dusk was settling over the ocean. Under normal circumstances, it would be peaceful and relaxing. But the jackhammer in her head reminded her of her why she was there. She had been taken from the courthouse, drugged, and brought here—most likely to be tortured and killed.
The RRA had already kidnapped her once. Had beaten her and threatened to kill her. If not for Ben rescuing her, she never would have made it out of Colombia alive.
Slowly, she glanced around the room. No one else was there. No guards. No restraints. That either meant the people holding her captive were inept, or certain she would not
be able to escape. She had seen the RRA up close and personal, had seen the horrors they exuded on innocent people. They were far from inept or stupid.
Wherever Mia was, she was far from civilization. Or help.
Far from Ben.
God, how had this happened? She and Ben had been so close to having the life they had been dreaming of—a simple existence in Newport where they could do all the ridiculously boring things couples do day in and day out. Eat meals together. Fall asleep in front of the TV. Wake in the morning, wrapped in each other.
Make love whenever and wherever they wanted.
And then, in the blink of an eye, and the shot of a gun, everything she had been hoping for slipped through her fingers like the fine grains of sand on the beach just beyond where she sat.
The door to her room opened. The man in black, now wearing a mask that hid his features and only showed his eyes and mouth, stepped inside carrying a tray. He set it on the table on the lanai. As he approached the bed, Mia pulled her legs to her chest, and curled into a ball. No way was she going to be drugged again. She could barely think coherently as it was. Any more drugs in her system, and becoming addicted to whatever the hell was being shot into her veins would be the least of her worries.
The man sat on the edge of the bed beside her. His brown eyes were soft—familiar, somehow. Once again, she had the feeling she knew him.
The man cleared his throat. “Give me your hand.”
Mia shook her head and immediately regretted it. Pain lanced through her eye sockets and straight into her brain.
“I will not hurt you,” he said. “I promise.”
“Please, don’t drug me,” she murmured. Her tongue was thick and dry, making it difficult to form words.
He slid his hand into her. His palms were sweaty and hot, but offered Mia no warmth. On his wrist was a watch. She tried to see the date so she could figure out how many days had passed since she had been at the courthouse, but it was an older watch. She recognized it—a vintage Heuer. Her ex had one like it.
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