Hot SEALs: Revealing Love

by Maryann Jordan

  “Wired? Whatever does that mean?” Suddenly, Arlene’s face showed understanding. “Like with cameras? Like what you see on TV?”

  Sabrina pulled the miniature camera, hidden in a pin holding her scarf in place, off her blouse. “They recorded everything and then checked. They’re turning the evidence over to the FBI and you’ve got to know that Ruth’s son is furious.” She lay the pin on the kitchen counter.

  Sabrina saw tears forming in her grandmother’s eyes and she pulled her back in for another hug. “Oh, Nonnie. It’s going to be okay.”

  “I’ve been so foolish. And now I’ve given him money and encouraged Ruth to do the same.”

  “Don’t worry. Your bank has already been alerted. He won’t get any of your money. Nor mine, nor any of the ladies here. When he tries to cash the checks, he won’t get anything.”

  “Well, that’s too bad,” Cecil’s voice growled behind them.

  Whirling around, the two women stared at him in surprise. “What are you doing here?” Sabrina asked, instinctively moving in front of her grandmother.

  “Seems granny here forgot to sign her check. I noticed the oversight right away but before I could come back in, I saw you get in that car with what had to be a detective.”

  Sabrina sucked in a gasp of surprise.

  “Yeah, you didn’t know I saw you. I figured you were up to something so I slipped back in and now I know.” His hand reached out to grab the pin from the counter and dropped to the floor where with one stomp of his expensive shoe, he smashed the recording device to bits.

  He reached into his jacket pocket pulling out a gun as his eyes darted around.

  Gasping once more, she held her arms out attempting to shelter her grandmother. “You’re upset with me,” she said, her voice shaking. “Leave Nonnie out of this.”

  “Bitch, you’re goddamn right I’m mad at you!” He pulled the checks out from his pants pocket throwing them on the floor. “And thanks to you, these are worthless.”

  Sweating profusely, he no longer held the debonair appearance that was his norm. “They’ll kill me if I can’t pay them back. I’ve got to have a plan. I’ve got to—” Suddenly he stopped pacing and ranting, turning abruptly to face her.

  “Taking the old lady won’t do me any good, but giving you to them…yeah. I’ve got no choice. You’re a much better hostage. Worth far more than I owed them.” Seeming to make up his mind, he grabbed her arm, jerking her forcefully toward him.

  “No!” Arlene shouted, with a strength she forgot she had.

  Pointing the gun at the two women, he ordered them to the side of the room while he opened a few drawers. Finding duct tape, he threw it at Sabrina. “Tape her to the chair and be quick about it. And don’t try anything, bitch, ‘cause I’ll check it.”

  Not knowing what else to do, she followed his instructions. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, feeling her grandmother’s hands shaking as she taped her to the chair.

  “Oh, my dear, this is all my fault. If I hadn’t been so intent on trying to connect with your grandfather.”

  “No, the fault lies squarely on Cecil’s shoulders. He’s the one to blame,” she assured Arlene. Standing, she turned back to him. “It’s done.”

  “Let’s go,” he ordered, waving the gun toward the door leading to the garage.

  “Where are you taking me?” she asked, hoping that if someone found her grandmother, at least she would be able to tell them where she was taken.

  “Oh, no, sweetheart. Not in front of the old bat. Come on.”

  After bending to kiss her grandmother, she moved ahead of him and into the large garage.

  “Turn around. Hands behind your back,” he ordered. Seeing her hesitation, he grinned, “unless you want me to go back and visit granny.”

  Pursing her lips, she turned, her mind racing to see if she could somehow overpower him, but he was clever. Keeping the pistol on her with one hand, he used his free hand, crudely wrapping duct tape around her wrists. Once they were taped together, he set the weapon down and wrapped them tightly.

  “Get in,” he growled, grabbing a set of keys from a hook near the door before shoving her into the back seat.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “Got some friends who will take you as the collateral against what I owe. We’ll head to the Krustas warehouses on the waterfront in Norfolk.”

  Krustas? Why does that sound familiar? Suddenly she remembered reading that name in the newspaper earlier in the year. Some members of the Krustas family were arrested in conjunction with a federal sting operation cracking down on illegal smuggling…including human trafficking. Oh, Jesus. How does he know them?

  Afraid to glance down, she could only pray the tracking device on her St. Jude necklace was working.

  * * *

  Jude pulled up to Arlene’s house at the same time that Bart’s SUV careened into the driveway. Both men jumped from their vehicles, running to the front door. Finding it unlocked, they powered inside yelling for the women.

  Hearing Arlene’s voice from the kitchen, they rounded the corner only to find her duct-taped to the chair, tears streaming down her face.

  “Nonnie!” Bart shouted as he knelt down, quickly slicing her bonds. “What happened?”

  Not seeing Sabrina, Jude turned to rush out of the room, but Arlene’s voice brought him to a halt.

  “He took her. He’s not real. He’s a thief and he took her,” she cried.

  Bart picked her up and stalked to the family room, laying her gently on the sofa. Twisting to Jude, he barked, “Call Jack. Get Luke to pull her up on the tracker.” Turning back to his grandmother he quickly assessed determining that she was not injured, just distraught.

  Jude, trying to quell his panic while on the phone with the Saints, was assured that Luke was working to find where she was. Running to the garage, he ascertained which vehicle of Arlene’s was missing and relayed that to Bart, who was on the phone with the police.

  Luke called back. “Looks like she’s in Norfolk, heading to the waterfront. Closest warehouses around belong to the Krustas Corporation. We know they’re the strongest Russian mafia’s presence in Virginia. If he’s involved, the FBI will want in on our action. Fuck, they’d love to nail him as well!”

  In a split-second decision, Jude hung up and quickly called Jon. “Need GAPS.”

  “You need it, it’s yours. What’s up?” Jon replied without hesitation.

  “Nastelli’s got Sabrina. He found out we were on to him and he’s taking her somewhere on the Norfolk waterfront. Jack’s man says that the Krustas warehouses are there and they might be—”

  “Russian organized crime,” Jon finished for him.

  “Bart knows where it is and we’ve got to get there now. Any chance for some assistance?”

  “Absolutely. You got it. But I gotta tell you that old man Krustas isn’t gonna be happy that Nastelli’s bringing her there. He’s working to keep the Feds outta his business on the waterfront and while he’s not clean, he’s gonna be fuckin’ pissed to have this brought to his door.”

  “Is that good news for us?”

  “Maybe. You and Bart get down there. I’ll send Rick and Zane to meet you. At the same time, I’ll coordinate with Jack and get the FBI in on this. That’ll keep Krustas from deciding to do something stupid to keep this under wraps.”

  Jude tried to keep his breathing steady, but the idea of Sabrina facing death dropped him to his knees.

  Bart pulled him up by his shoulders, getting into his face. “Pull it together, man. You gotta have your shit tight…for Sabrina’s sake.”

  Giving himself a mental slap, Jude nodded as they ran back out of the house. Jude did not hesitate to jump into Bart’s SUV. I’m in no fuckin’ position to be driving. Once more, Bart peeled away, this time heading toward Norfolk.

  Chapter 11

  Cecil had driven to the waterfront, his mind working furiously. The turn of events had him sweating but he was sure his backup plan wou
ld work. And how fortuitous that the accommodating Ms. Taggart came back to check on the old lady.

  Sabrina looked out of the window from her position in the back seat. The evening sun was disappearing over the horizon and the shadows around the warehouses were ominous. Cecil parked next to a large building and as her eyes glanced around for possible help, she noted Krustas Inc. on a large sign. Licking her lips nervously, her attention jerked back to him as he got out of the vehicle.

  Pulling her out of the car, he had hold of her arm and jerked her forward. Her hands, still taped behind her back, caused her shoulders to scream in pain. Sucking in a deep breath, she glanced around at the men working in the large space moving crates around with loaders. They gave cursory glances her way, but all continued about their business.

  Sabrina tried to be brave, but her jello legs had other plans. Locking her shaking knees into place was the only way she could be sure that she would not end up on the warehouse floor in a puddle.

  “Nastelli!”

  Hearing a shout to her left, she jerked her head toward the sound at the same time Cecil slung her whole body around causing her to fall toward him as she lost her balance. His fingers dug into her upper arm as he righted her body with a growl.

  Seeing three men approach, she eyed them warily. All three in dark suits, two were bulky men straight from a mob movie. Their faces hard, but impassive. The one in the middle was taller. Leaner. And his expression? Definitely not happy.

  Stopping right in front of them, she noted the man in the middle barely glanced her way. Is that a good sign or a bad sign, she wondered.

  “I brought—”

  “Shut the fuck up, you moron,” the man said, his smooth voice belying the growl underneath.

  Turning on his heel, he began to walk away while the two bulky sidekicks flanked her and Cecil. He continued to jerk her arm although she was walking beside him. When the two men stopped suddenly, so did Cecil causing her to slam once more into him. Wincing in pain, she wanted to rail against his unnecessary hold on her. Where the hell does he think I’m going to go?

  She watched as one of the silent goons dropped his eyes to Cecil’s grip on her arm and then back up to his face, and immediately felt her injured arm released. Before she could process the silent communications, they were once again walking toward the taller man who was ascending stairs on the side of the warehouse. Glancing upward, she saw a room above with glass windows overlooking the work area. Reaching the bottom of the stairs in a silent formation, one bruiser led the way followed by her, Cecil behind and then the other hulk bringing up the rear.

  With each step, her knees continued to knock as her breath came in pants. Forcing herself to breathe deeply, she fought the panic rising with each step. At the top of the stairs, there was only one way to go—following the lean man straight into the room.

  * * *

  “She’s stopped moving,” Luke reported over the phone to Jude. Rattling off the location, he continued to fill him in on the surrounding area. Disconnecting with him, Jude quickly relayed the information to Jon’s group.

  “Don’t worry,” Jon said. “You concentrate on what you’re doing. I’m coordinating with Jack and my men. When you get there, do not go in with guns blazing. Rick and Zane will work with you and Bart.”

  As hard as it was for Jude to agree, he did. Closing his eyes for a moment, he mentally chanted. Gather the intel. Plan the mission. Execute the mission. He had done that as a SEAL and would need to do it once more if he wanted Sabrina safe. But this time it’s so fuckin’ hard!

  Relaying that they needed to wait to rendezvous with Rick and Zane, he knew Bart did not like it any more than he did. But both men would follow orders—to not do so might cost Sabrina her life.

  * * *

  Entering the warehouse office, Sabrina was escorted to the middle of the room. A quick glance showed the interior did not look like a mob space. At least not what she imagined from movies. The furniture was grey metal, egalitarian. A desk, chairs, conference table, filing cabinets. But what sat behind the desk matched her imaginations perfectly. An older man, heavy-set, with a square jaw and eyes that did not appear to miss anything. Mr. Krustas. She recognized his face from the news. Her mind racing, she tried to remember what she read. He was charged but later cleared by the Feds, but several members of his family had been sent to prison for extortion, illegal smuggling, and racketeering.

  The leaner man walked to stand beside the seated gentleman, both glaring at Cecil with only cursory looks in her direction.

  Cecil opened his mouth to speak but was immediately silenced by a simple raised hand from the older man, who finally gave his attention to her. With a nod to the goon at her side, she saw the flash of a knife but before she could do more than gasp, the tape around her wrists was sliced, freeing her arms.

  Bringing them to the front, she rubbed her hands together to get the circulation moving, wincing as they tingled.

  “Please have a seat,” the gentleman offered, nodding to the chair that was closest to her. She immediately sat, knowing she needed to keep her wits and definitely not wanting to piss him off. At least for now, he did not appear to be angry with her.

  “What the hell were you thinking to bring this woman to our door?” he asked. Not raising his voice, its icy coldness was fierce all the same. Before Cecil could open his mouth, he continued. “And I had better like your answer.”

  She sat as still as possible but could not help but move her eyes toward the left where Cecil stood. His earlier bravado was slipping, if wiping his hands on his expensive pants was any indication.

  “She’s collateral,” Cecil began. “I can’t get what I owe you right now, but I will and—”

  Cecil halted once more with a raised hand from Mr. Krustas. She saw his eyes jerk toward her and then off to the side. The man, standing on her right, placed his hand gently on her arm and assisted her to stand, before ushering her to the side of the room toward another door. Eyes wide in panic, she looked over at Mr. Krustas.

  “My apologies, Ms. Taggart. I will have Frank escort you to another, more comfortable, room where you may find some refreshments while I deal with Mr. Nastelli.”

  Barely able to nod, she allowed herself to stumble into the next room. Inside, she was amazed. Dark paneled walls met maroon carpet. The desk in this room was heavy oak, with matching chairs. A credenza sat behind the desk, crystal decanters centered along with silver picture frames holding what she assumed were family photographs.

  The man identified as Frank spoke for the first time. “You may make yourself at home here, Miss. There’s water and juice in the refrigerator,” he said, nodding toward the wall. “A bathroom is through that door. There is no other exit so, please do not attempt to leave.”

  Wanting to move away from him she immediately walked to the bathroom, shutting and locking the door. Placing her hands on the sink, she bowed her head as she steadied her breathing. Finally, she looked into the mirror seeing her pale complexion. As her gaze drifted down to the sparkle around her neck, she focused on the St. Jude pendant. Patron Saint of the impossible. The tracer is attached! Please, Jude, find me here.

  Using the facilities, she washed her hands before tidying her hair. Steeling herself with a deep breath, she let it out slowly before re-entering the luxurious office. She was hoping that Frank would have left in her absence, but no such luck. He was standing next to the office door, his bulk taking up most of the doorframe with his arms crossed in front of his chest. Walking over to the mini-frig, she retrieved a bottle of water before moving to one of the comfortable chairs.

  He offered a head jerk in acknowledgment of her acquiescence before exiting the room, the click of the lock resounding in the quiet space. Jumping from her chair, she immediately rushed over, placing her ear against the door. Nothing. The heavy, wooden door was too thick. Damn!

  Glancing around, her eyes landed on the crystal glasses on the credenza. Scurrying around the desk, she snagged one befo
re hustling back to the door. Placing the glass against the door and her ear against the glass, she heard the voices clearly. Grinning, she remembered the times she, Bart, and the other cousins could get creative in their cops and robbers games as children. Bart was the one who taught me the oldest listening device in the world. And it works!

  “She’s worth more than I owe you,” Cecil was saying.

  “You cannot possibly be so stupid to think that I can ransom off a young woman from a well-known family to get the money that you owe me,” Mr. Krustas roared.

  “No one knows where we are. I didn’t say anything in front of the old woman. My plan was perfect. It’s always worked before. I got the money, but found out the bitch was on to me and put a hold on the bank accounts. But you can use her. You know…a pretty girl…”

  A gasp escaped before she could stop it, but she knew the door was too thick for them to hear her. Oh, my God. What are they planning? She heard a whine in Cecil’s voice that had not been present before. An eerie quiet followed and, strain as she might, she could hear nothing. No words. No movement.

  * * *

  Bart came to a sudden stop down the road from the warehouses on the bay, dusk already settling over the waterfront. Jude, recognizing Rick and Zane, jumped out before Bart cut the engine, racing over to them.

  “Is she here?” he asked, his voice unable to mask his concern.

  Rick nodded, “Yeah, Jon got confirmation that she’s in the number 205 warehouse.”

  Jude turned suddenly, ready to run in, but Zane’s hand on his arm stopped him.

  “No, man,” Zane said. “We gotta play this carefully.”

  Jude rounded on him, his expression a mixture of incredulity and rage. “What the fuck does that mean?”

  Coming up behind him, Bart’s vibes were equally as angry.

  Rick and Zane shared a quick glance and then Zane continued, “The warehouse is owned by Russian mob boss, Ivan Krustas. Last year, some of his organization was busted for—”

  “I know, I know,” Jude interrupted. “Get to the fuckin’ point before they kill Sabrina.”