Love Inspired Suspense April 2015 #2

by Dana Mentink

  Shaun gripped her shoulders, his face blurry in her compromised vision. “Lexie? Stay with me, Lexie. What’s wrong? Are you ill?”

  Barely lucid, Lexie waved a limp arm toward the bathroom, hoping Shaun would get the message. He disappeared and returned with a plastic cup of water, which he tilted up to her lips. She drank, grateful for the cooling effect of the liquid, but beyond mortified that she’d lost the strength to hold the cup herself. She squeezed her eyes shut and let the panic attack run its course.

  After a few minutes of labored breathing and intense internal waves of heat, Lexie felt well enough to open her eyes again. Shaun knelt in front of her chair, concern etched across his features. “What happened? Should I call a nurse?”

  Lexie shook her head and downed the rest of the water. “Panic attack. I’m okay, I’ll just feel a little dizzy for a few hours.”

  “You’re sure you don’t need medical attention? I can have one of the nurses down here in minutes.”

  Under different circumstances, Lexie might have laughed and explained the details of what a panic attack entailed, but right now she felt more annoyed with her body’s bad timing and unpredictable response to stress than anything else. “No nurse needed, all right? This happens once in a while. It’s not a condition I can control. It feels like I’m dying for about ten to fifteen minutes and then I’m fine.”

  Lexie wished her cabin had an extra room she could disappear into for a few minutes, not only to give her body a break from trying to process the stresses of the day, but also to get away from the clear worry on Shaun’s face. His concern made her stomach queasy, mostly because it didn’t make sense. How could someone who’d so callously shattered her sister’s heart act with such tenderness?

  Heat rose in her cheeks as she realized she’d been staring at him. He stared back, refusing to break eye contact. A gasp rose in her throat and she swallowed it down, looking away with effort. No, no, no. Shaun was all wrong for her.

  She took a deep breath and tried to focus on the present. Someone had left her a warning, and she needed to know why. “The only reason I can think of for that message,” she said, working it out as she spoke, “would be if Maria isn’t simply missing, as her parents believe. Whoever did this means business. They have to know I’m looking for her, which only confirms the worst-case scenario. Shaun, Maria left her prom dress behind. It doesn’t make sense.”

  “You’re suggesting she might have been taken?” Weariness betrayed Shaun’s otherwise confident demeanor. “Because you’re on the right track, in that case.”

  Lexie shot him a sharp look. “You know about this? Let me guess—I should stay out of it and let you handle things.”

  Shaun ran his fingers through his hair and leaned against the desk. “I think we’re beyond that. In brief, kidnapping isn’t far off. The correct term here is likely trafficking, though I don’t want to jump the gun just yet.”

  Lexie cringed at his choice of words. “Because anything to do with a handgun on Canadian soil would be problematic.”

  Shaun squinted at her. “Right.”

  Since he didn’t rise to the bait, she pounced on the rest of his know-it-all commentary. “And I don’t see how trafficking fits into this. We’re on a ferry to Newfoundland. Last time I heard about trafficking, it involved moving drugs or weapons across the Pacific.”

  “Exactly. Which would make the Atlantic an ideal route for a savvy trafficker with connections and the know-how to get their cargo from point A to B.”

  “Cargo? Their drugs?”

  Shaun shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m afraid not. It’s far worse than that. There are groups around the world who traffic people, Lexie. They kidnap young women and sell them to the highest bidder for work in factories or as domestic help to people who have more money than brains or morals. These girls don’t know what they’re getting into, and are usually enticed by the promise of a great job in a flashy foreign country. They’re offered high salaries and plenty of additional perks, but by the time the girls realize they’ve been duped, it’s far too late.”

  Lexie’s stomach churned as she tucked her knees up to her chin, wrapping her arms around her legs. “I thought that kind of thing only happened overseas, not here. I’ve wondered why the girls don’t just run away, but I know it’s much more complicated than that. It’s hard to believe this goes on without the whole world freaking out about it.”

  Shaun sighed. “It’s a harder problem to solve than it sounds. These people operate covertly, and yes, even here in North America. They’re smart. And it’s not unusual to drug these young women en route. By the time the girls get to the factory or new home, they’re either threatened with bodily harm or their captors threaten to hurt the girls’ families if they don’t cooperate. So they go along with it, working themselves to the bone, while the factory owners reap excess profits from their cheaply made products.”

  It sounded insane, and yet…what other explanation could there be? The world made less sense by the minute. “How do you know all this?” she asked, peering up at him. He looked far too relaxed if what he’d just told her was true.

  He pushed away from the desk and crossed the cabin to the emergency phone. “I’m going to call security, all right? They’re going to want to deal with this before we make a mess of it.”

  Lexie unfurled her legs and stretched, hoping to work out the crick in her lower back from the earlier events of the day. Once security completed their sweep of the room, she and Shaun were going to have a serious talk, whether he liked it or not. He knew far too much to be a simple passenger on board the ship—not to mention the gun she was sure he had hidden in his waistband.

  Shaun Lane had a secret, and she intended to figure it out.

  *

  Shaun’s heart thudded as he replaced the phone receiver. It had become quite apparent that he needed to bring Lexie in on his case. The woman had a good head on her shoulders, and she wouldn’t accept his diversions for long. He had to call his case officer with an update sometime in the next few hours anyway, and he needed to clarify how much he could tell Lexie about his search for the Wolf without leading her into even more danger.

  On the other side of the room, Lexie’s stare bore holes into his skull. He admired her persistence—and understood her desire for answers perhaps more than anyone else aboard—but safety had to come first. Whoever left the braid and the message knew very well who she searched for, but likely hadn’t yet figured out Shaun’s purpose here. That put her in the line of fire and left him with the option of sticking by her side for the next twelve hours or so until they docked…not that he’d complain about spending more time around her, but with it came the possibility of being distracted for entirely the wrong reasons.

  As he contemplated what to say to ease her raised hackles, crackling came through a speaker in the corner of the room.

  “Ship-wide announcement?” Shaun watched as surprise flit across Lexie’s visage. She already looked tired. Hopefully this announcement would bring some good news about the noises around the ship.

  A pleasant, masculine voice with a heavy Newfoundland accent came over the speaker. “Good evening to all passengers of the MV Providence. This is your captain speaking, and on behalf of myself and the crew, we’d like to thank you for choosing Atlantic Voyages for your journey to Argentia this evening. No doubt you’ve heard quite the ruckus outside, and we’d like to ease your minds. Please rest assured, the ship is in no danger. It’s quite natural for ice to form this time of year, though it’s atypical for ice to reform this quickly and this thick after a warm spell. As you know, the weather this year has been a mite unpredictable. However, we are not, repeat not, going to sink.”

  The captain paused, and Shaun regarded Lexie. She’d taken his place leaning against the desk, her arms folded and hands tucked against her sides. An urge to cross the room and rub her shoulders for reassurance tugged at his gut, but she appeared less than welcome to any sort of inte
rfering comfort at the moment.

  “What sometimes happens,” the captain continued, “is the ice thickens to the point where the ferry is unable to break through the ice on her own. We’re also unable to turn around and return to harbor. But rest assured! An icebreaker from the Canadian Coast Guard is on its way.”

  Lexie glanced his direction, met his eyes and looked quickly away. What was she thinking? He’d give more than a penny for her thoughts. He’d pay a whole dollar—what was it they called them in Canada? Loonies?

  “So, please sit tight and enjoy the ship’s amenities. A special, complimentary evening buffet will be provided by our kitchen staff in about a half hour’s time, and we’ll provide hot beverages for the remainder of the evening at no cost. Current estimates put us docking into Argentia late tomorrow evening—a slight delay from our original estimated arrival time. We will continue to provide updates as the situation develops.”

  The speaker broadcast ended with a click. Shaun didn’t even attempt to hide the sigh that welled up, releasing it in a long, drawn-out breath. Having the ferry trapped in ice presented an additional complication, namely that it meant more time in an enclosed vessel with someone who wanted to hurt Lexie. If his suspicions were correct, that someone also happened to be a notorious criminal who had eluded him for the past three years.

  This left Shaun with just one option: Find the Wolf and take him into custody before he could hurt Lexie or anyone else. First things first, though. He had a question, the answer to which might provide some insight into the situation.

  “The security team should be here in a minute,” he said. “But before they get here, I’m curious. What made you pick this ferry? Specifically, I mean.” He wasn’t entirely sure where he was going with this, but his gut told him it might be important.

  Lexie raised one eyebrow at him. “If you must know, though I don’t think it’s any of your business, we received an anonymous tip at Lead Me Home. The tipster saw Maria’s photo on our website and called to tell us he saw someone matching her description at the last gas station on the highway before the ferry terminal. Logic followed that she might be headed to Newfoundland, as there isn’t really anywhere else to go from here. And the small community of North Sydney, Nova Scotia, isn’t the kind of place a person can run to in order to disappear. It’s not unusual for us to get tips like this. Folks call in sightings of people we’re searching for, or report whispers and rumors. Sometimes finding a person is as simple as a friend knowing where their buddy has gone for the weekend, or an employee at a rehab facility letting us know the person has checked in. This one came in about Maria, so I followed it. I didn’t pick this ship for any particular purpose, just got on the road as soon as I could after the tip came in.”

  Buzzers went off in Shaun’s ears as he listened to Lexie’s explanation. As a CIA operative, he relied on leads from anonymous sources on a regular basis, following up on promising tips and using the intel to assist sensitive investigations. The kicker here? He’d undertaken the voyage to Newfoundland for a similar reason, after receiving a tip that possible suspects with ties to the Wolf might be operating out of Argentia. It could be a coincidence, but in his experience, very few happenings in life could truly be chalked up to coincidence.

  Had the same anonymous tipster provided intel to the CIA and to Lexie’s missing-persons organization? It seemed unlikely and far-fetched, but then again, so did the fact that he’d bumped into Nicola’s sister on a ferry to Newfoundland, far from both of their homes.

  And even more bizarre? That Lexie might possibly be targeted by the same man he’d been trying to bring down for the past three years.

  *

  Although he stood on the other side of the room, Lexie felt keenly aware of Shaun’s presence. His concern for her safety had softened the edges of her anger, though allowing herself to pursue any line of thought regarding why wouldn’t serve any purpose. Better that they remained far from each other, especially after the embrace he’d given her when they found the braid and photo on the bunk. They’d fit together too well.

  She had to stop thinking about him that way. She wouldn’t be the second Reilly sister to have her heart broken and her life shattered by this man. Lexie squeezed her eyes shut and pressed the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger.

  “Knock, knock?”

  Several raps on the door frame followed the question, and three men in navy blue security uniforms entered the room. An older, stocky gentleman who looked as if he’d spent a lifetime on the open water strode over to Shaun and extended his hand. “Tim Parsons. We spoke earlier about the incident on the parking deck?”

  “Tim, thank you for bringing your team in here. We’ve got a bit of an unusual situation.” Shaun took the man’s hand in a firm grasp, and Lexie noted with mild annoyance that all the security officer offered her was a curt nod.

  “Call me Parsons.” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder toward the two men behind him. The shorter of the two had a lanky build with arms that went on for days, and bright orange hair to complement it. He stared at the floor and the walls as though wishing he could be anywhere but inside a passenger’s room. The other security officer, however, looked familiar. “Reed and Josh are my main team. We’ll do what we can, but as you know, we have our hands full with the recent announcement. What’s the situation here?”

  Josh seemed to sense her gaze on him and met her look with a nod of acknowledgment. They’d met him in the computer room. Well, a familiar face was a good thing, right?

  “Lexie, why don’t you have one of the officers escort you to the lounge?” Shaun’s question sliced through her brooding thoughts. “I’ll meet you there after we get things sorted here.”

  Escort her to the lounge, as if she was a child? Not likely. “I can see myself there, thank you very much. But this is my room, so I don’t see why I should leave.”

  Parsons cleared his throat, waving his hand in her general direction. “Sorry, miss, but judging by what this gentleman has told me, we’ll need to move you to another room while this one is under investigation.” He turned back to Shaun. “There’s no Royal Canadian Mounted Police on board today, but we’ll close off the room until we reach harbor.”

  Lexie shuffled closer to her bags, away from the door. Being pushed out of whatever was going on wouldn’t help her investigation or give her the answers she needed regarding Shaun’s latest suggestion. Human trafficking? It sounded absurd, and yet deep in her heart, she knew that some people were fully capable of evil. Was kidnapping people and forcing them into menial labor truly that far-fetched?

  “Won’t moving me to another room cause the same problem? If somebody got in here, they could get into that room, too. I don’t see how that’s any safer.”

  Parsons smiled at her as though she’d lost a few brain cells. “It’s a matter of protocol and safety, Miss…”

  “Reilly. Lexie Reilly.” She didn’t bother to cross the room and shake his hand. “Forget about the room. I don’t need sleep.” She reached down to pick up her bags, but a hand on her arm stopped her midmotion. She straightened to find Shaun next to her, a sheepish smile on his face.

  “It’s a good idea, Lexie. Humor me on this and take a different, safer room for the night. The person who accessed your room may have hacked into the passenger list and found your room number there. Your new room won’t be on file, so you should be able to get a good night’s rest.”

  Lexie scolded her heart, which threatened to melt at his sincerity. She matched his gaze and held it for a few seconds before realizing that he did, in fact, make a good point about the passenger list. “Fine. But I still want an explanation for how you know all that stuff you told me…understand?”

  He nodded and took a step back, easing the growing tension in the air between them. “I’ll tell you as much as I can, and that’s a promise. But you’ll have to meet me halfway. I have some questions for you, too. Meet in the lounge in a half hour or so?”

  She agre
ed, picked up her bags and headed to the door. What could he possibly have to ask her? Compulsion moved her to look back at Shaun one last time before following Reed to her new cabin. He and Parsons were discussing the photo left on her bunk, and despite the lumberjack getup he wore, Shaun’s demeanor looked too smooth—too professional for him to simply be a passenger who’d stumbled across her path. And while this thought left her with more suspicions than reassurances, she couldn’t help but wonder why she’d felt so much safer in his presence than she had in the few moments she’d been on board alone.

  FIVE

  After sorting things out with Parsons, Shaun headed back to his room and dug his portable Broadband Global Area Network satellite terminal from his gear bag. He bundled up with a few more layers of warm clothes and jogged to the nearest outer deck exit to set up the phone connection. He was already an hour overdue for his first checkin, which didn’t bode well for the upcoming conversation.

  “You’d better have something for us, agent,” came the gravelly voice of Jack Credicott, the case officer Shaun reported to in Langley, Virginia. “You know how the men upstairs get cranky when we keep them waiting. Either you’ve caught our man or you’re about to bust him. Throw me a nugget, here.”

  Shaun grinned, imagining Jack at his desk with an oversize mug of Costa Rican coffee and his ubiquitous jar of green Jolly Rancher candies. “I’ll do you one better, Jack. I have reason to believe the Wolf has at least one ‘package’ aboard the ship.” He followed the statement by relating the incident on the parking deck and subsequent events. “The cut braid looks like the Wolf’s work—just enough violence to make a statement, but not enough to cut into profits.”

  “So he’s either close or you’ve got yourself into a wasp nest of drones moving packages for him.” The crinkle of a plastic wrapper transmitted across the ocean into Shaun’s ear.