by Dani Pettrey
Clint and George wheeling a large white cooler out through the supply checkpoint.
“Where’s Ted?” Gage asked. “He’s not in the footage.”
“Heath never mentioned Ted,” Jake said.
After personally confirming Landon’s credentials and realizing the severity of the situation, Lance introduced them to the captain—who was more than eager to get to the bottom of the matter.
Considering the remote location, and the unknown extent of the danger, the captain officially suspended all further excursions until the cruise ended in Russia—which wouldn’t be until the day after tomorrow.
The Bering was secured with all guests inside for the duration of their anchoring time in Pribilof, but it did little to ease the fear coursing through Gage. There was no trace of Darcy. . . .
Clint and George had her. He had no doubt. They must have intercepted her in Mullins’ office before Mullins returned.
“Looks like Ted was left behind,” Lance said, reentering the room after taking a radio call.
They all followed Lance to the clinic, where they found Ted, half alert on the examination table.
Gage lunged for his throat. “Where is she?”
Jake and Landon wrestled to pull him off.
“Where is she?”
“Where is wh-wh-who?” Ted said between choking breaths.
Gage slackened his hold at Ted’s genuine confusion. “Darcy.”
“Why would I know?”
“Because you’re part of it.”
“Part of what?”
“The trafficking network.”
“Whoa! No. I had no part in that.”
Landon rested a hand on the edge of the table. “No part in what?”
Ted swallowed.
41
The lid lifted off the container Darcy was crammed into. Bright daylight assaulted her eyes. She tried to lift a hand to shield them, but found her hands bound.
Clint bent, gazing down at her.
“You creep.” She kicked, her foot colliding with his jaw.
His head swung back with the impact, and he swore.
George chuckled from somewhere nearby. She could hear his voice, just couldn’t see his face. “I told you she was trouble.”
Clint wiped the blood dripping from his mouth. “Well, she’s not our problem any longer. Help me get her out.”
Darcy readied to kick again but stilled at the sight of George’s gun aiming down at her.
“Why don’t we just finish her off now?” he asked.
“Because”—Clint reached in a bit more apprehensively, wrapped his arms around her, and lifted her out—“we have a quota to meet.”
George leaned against a wooden post, the sort you’d hitch a horse to, the gun still aimed at her. “We would have already met our quota if she hadn’t messed it up. The boss is pretty upset that we’ve delayed the shipment for so long.”
What were they talking about?
“No matter.” Clint set her on the ground at the base of the post and adjusted her bonds, securing her to it. “One blond-haired, blue-eyed American completes the list, so they can sail tomorrow. Doesn’t matter if her name is Whitney or Darcy.”
George chuckled, kneeling to look her in the eye. “Yeah, where you’re going, no one cares about names, sweetheart.”
She fought the urge to kick again. If they were taking her where Abby was being held, there was still a chance she could find her friend.
George stepped into the boat and started the motor. “Let’s go. We can call the boss about picking her up once we’re on our way.”
“Sorry it had to go down this way,” Clint said. “I really liked you. You should have minded your business like I said, and then all of this unpleasantness could have been avoided.”
“Unpleasantness? You’re selling human beings into slavery.”
“I’m not. The boss is. All I do is make the drops.”
“And that keeps your conscience clear?” Was he insane?
“That, and the money helps.” He laughed and joined George in the boat. They pulled away, leaving her stranded.
“So, you’re seriously claiming you had nothing to do with smuggling women or drugs between America and Russia?” Gage pressed.
“No, man, I swear.” Ted held up his hands. “If I did, do you think they’d leave me here?”
“Someone slammed you over the head with a metal pole. I don’t think they were trying to leave you behind; I think they were trying to kill you,” Gage said.
Ted looked down.
“You know more about what’s happening than you’re letting on.” Landon leaned on Ted. “We are going to get to the bottom of this. So the way I see it, you have two choices. You tell us what you know and aid in the rescue of a kidnapped woman, or you hold out and we tell the Feds when they arrive that you were uncooperative.”
“I don’t know how it works. Seriously. I just know Clint and Jeremy—” he shook his head as if trying to clear it—“Clint and George now, work the ring.”
“Ring?” Jake asked from the doorway.
“That’s just what I call it. Look, I know what they’re into is no good, but I’ve made it my business to not make it my business. I do my job and—”
“And ignore the fact they are kidnapping women and selling them into the sex-slave trade,” Gage said. Real nice guy.
“I didn’t know anything about that. I thought they were just dealing drugs.”
“Oh, come on,” Gage roared. “You can’t be that dumb.”
Ted’s jaw tightened and he shifted uncomfortably. “Until that chef lady came around asking questions about missing women, I thought it was just drugs.”
“And then?”
“And then she went overboard.”
“So now . . . ?”
“I still don’t know.”
Gage slammed his hand on the table beside him. “That’s not helpful, Ted. They’ve got Darcy out there somewhere. Where? Where would they have taken her? There were a bunch of coordinates in the black book we found in your room. Where do they lead to?”
“Black book?”
“Yes. It had descriptions of women, location points, and other numbers we hadn’t figured out.”
“I’ve never seen any black book.”
Gage inhaled, fighting the fear threatening to overtake him. They were losing precious time. “Did Clint or Jeremy ever leave the excursion islands at this port stop to your knowledge?”
“Yeah. A time or two.”
“Any idea where they went?”
“I figured to one of the outer islands.”
“Outer islands?”
“There’s a whole series scattered around here, heading up toward the Bering Sea.”
“These trips. How long would they be gone?”
Ted pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead. “An hour, maybe.”
Gage looked at Jake. “That gives us a place to start.”
He stepped into the courtyard to take the call. Clint better be calling to say they were set to go with the blond woman’s drop tonight. “Yes?”
“Change of plans,” Clint said.
“Excuse me?”
“The reporter went to Mullins.”
“And?”
“Mullins played the good soldier. She called us in and helped us get rid of the evidence. We took the reporter to the drop spot.”
“She’s there now?”
“Yes.”
“Good. You and George wait for me there.”
“I don’t think so. We’re blown. We’re taking the backup plan and heading out.”
“That contingency exists when I say it exists.”
“Seeing as how you’re not the one Bering’s security and the reporter’s cop friend are after, it’s no longer your call. We kept you out of it. Now we’re leaving.”
His jaw tightened. Who did the vermin think he was? “And Ted?”
“We took care of him before we left the ship.”
&n
bsp; “You’re certain?”
“Yeah, George took care of it. Besides, it’s not like he actually knows anything.”
“He’s seen me. And you said he’s figured out quite a bit about our operation over the years. That’s enough to bust us all.”
“He’s too stupid to even go there, and besides, it’s a moot point. The guy is dead. George whacked him good.”
The line went dead.
He gripped the phone so tightly, the plastic casing cracked. He called his men to him. “You.” He lifted his chin at Jason. “George and Clint think they’re flying the coop. Meet them at the locker.” They’d no doubt go there for the new IDs and cash he’d promised would be stashed there if anything went wrong. “Take them out.”
The man nodded.
“And you . . .” He pointed to his brother, Steve. “Go get the girl.”
42
Gage and Jake jumped into the first of the Bering’s auxiliary boats. They’d contacted the Coast Guard, alerting them to the search grid they’d created based on the information Ted had supplied and the map work Jake had done. Their best bet was a small island ten miles from the day’s excursion destination. It would provide a perfect drop location—isolated, uninhabited, and close enough for Clint or Jeremy to run a victim over, or even for someone on the other end to head over for a pickup.
The rest of the McKennas and what security personnel the Bering was willing to lend fanned out in the rest of the boats, each taking a different island on Jake’s grid.
“We’re going to find her,” Jake said as they headed out into open water.
Gage gripped the wheel. “I pray you are right.”
Darcy squinted at the boat in the distance. Was it the man Clint had called to pick her up? She wrestled against her bonds, her hands tied to the post, the rope burning her skin each time she tried to wriggle free. The boat grew closer, and panic set in. She squeezed her eyes shut.
Please, Lord.
“Darcy,” Gage screamed.
She opened her eyes, relief crashing over her as Gage jumped from the boat, sloshing through the remaining ten feet to shore.
He raced to her side and, kneeling beside her, kissed her fiercely. “I thought I’d lost you.”
“We need to hurry.” Her breath came in shallow pants. “Someone’s coming.”
“What?”
“George said they would call for someone to pick me up. I think . . .” Bile rose in her throat.
Gage pulled the utility knife from his pocket. “We need to get out of here.”
“No. Wait.”
“What?”
“Leave me here.”
His eyes widened. “Are you crazy?”
Gage knelt beside Jake in the bushes. They’d agreed to Darcy’s cockamamie plan against his better judgment and hidden their boat in a nearby cove.
“This better work,” he murmured to Jake as a boat came in from the east.
“I won’t let anything happen to her,” Jake promised.
The boat drove right up to the beach. A man jumped out, pulling the small craft up on the sand, and then strode to Darcy.
“Now,” Jake said, pulling his Sig .375.
Gage followed.
Jake paused just shy of the man bending to cut Darcy loose. He cocked the gun, and the man stilled. “Turn around.”
The man turned slowly, his hands lifting. “You’re making a big mistake.”
“Funny,” Jake said. “I don’t see it that way.”
The man refused to talk, but it didn’t matter. The GPS in the boat held the coordinates they needed.
“You really think Abby’s still being held there?” Gage asked as they climbed in.
“I pray she is,” Darcy said. “Regardless, some women are, and we need to rescue them.”
Jake lowered the radio he’d been using. “Coast Guard is on its way, as are the rest of the searchers. I told them we were leaving our friend here.” He gestured to the man tied to the same post that moments ago Darcy had been secured to. “I let them know he’s been subdued.”
“That was a pretty good knock you gave him with that oar,” Gage said, squeezing her shoulder.
“It was my pleasure.” Darcy smiled. They couldn’t risk his getting away or warning whoever was in charge they were coming.
Darcy rubbed her arms as the boat sped toward the island fixed in the GPS’s coordinates. “What if we can’t find them? What if . . . ?”
Gage clasped her hand. “We should pray.”
She looked up in shock. “What did you just say?”
“We should pray.”
“I thought . . .”
“So did I, but God had different plans.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Are you saying . . . ?” Had she been right? Had God been at work in Gage’s heart?
“I spent our last night aboard the Bering on my knees, begging God to forgive my bitterness and anger toward Him for all these years.”
“And?” Hope sprang in her eyes.
He swallowed. “I’ve asked Him to be my Savior.”
Tears welled in her eyes, and she hugged him, clinging to him without saying a word.
“You okay?” He rubbed her back.
She burrowed into his hold. “I’m so grateful.”
“Are you crying?”
She sniffed. “Don’t worry. They are tears of praise. I’ve been praying—”
“Ever since we met,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “I know, and I’m not sure what I did to deserve your prayers, especially considering how I treated you when we first met or even over the past week, but I am so glad you offered them.”
She gazed up at him, so overwhelmed with love. “So am I, but I can’t take any credit. I may have offered the prayers, but it was God who answered them.”
He clutched her hand tightly against his chest. “Let’s pray He answers our prayers now.”
They poured out their prayers for a miracle to occur. For Abby to be rescued, for enough evidence to mount to bust up the trafficking ring and convict the men behind it.
43
The low-lying island was dotted with hills—a combination of brown tufa and cinder cones—several nearly a hundred feet tall. From their vantage point in the boat bobbing along the rocky coastline, Gage could see the hills provided ample coverage for a house or compound to be nestled behind, out of sight from any passersby. Though, in this region of the Bering Sea, only fishing vessels trawled.
Gage confirmed the coordinates to the rest of the McKennas, the Coast Guard, and the FBI agents en route. Hopefully, they’d arrive soon.
“We have no idea how many men are on this island,” Jake said.
“Or how armed they are,” Gage added. “Should we wait for backup?”
“We can’t,” Darcy said. “They’re expecting that man we left on the island to return with me. The longer I’m delayed, the more suspicious they’ll become. If Abby or any other women are being held on the island, we need to move now.”
Jake nodded. “I agree. And if they hear the boat approach, they’ll assume it is their man arriving with Darcy.”
Trying to find a place to pull ashore proved tricky—the majority of the coastline was rugged and interspersed with sheer cliff headlands swathed with nesting seabirds. Gage finally spotted a small cove sheltered from the breakers, but they still had to wade through several feet of rock-strewn water to reach the shore.
Having not been greeted by gunfire, they hoped the island’s remote location had lulled any guards into complacency and they would be able to approach without confrontation.
“I’ll climb that hill.” Jake pointed to the nearest mound. “It should give me a good view of the island. If there’s a structure here, we’ll be able to assess what we’re facing.”
“All right, let’s go,” Gage said.
“You two should wait here, in case someone spots me.”
Gage wavered.
“Trust me,” Jake said.
Gage nodded, watchin
g Jake hike up the hill littered with lichen-covered rocks as Darcy paced beside him. “We’re taking too long.”
“We need to know what we’re walking into.”
She balled her hands into fists, her skin paling to an ivory blue.
Gage clasped hold of her. “Give me your hands.”
She held them out, and he pressed them between his, trying to warm her. It couldn’t be much above freezing. The Bering Sea climate was Arctic Maritime, and with the constant lashing southern wind, it felt it.
Within ten minutes, Jake was back. “Okay, we’ve got a building about fifty yards northeast. I spotted one man outside. I didn’t see any windows, so I couldn’t get eyes inside. I think the best course of action is for you to lead Darcy in just as they’re expecting her.”
“They aren’t expecting me.”
“Keep her in front of you and your head down. Even though they probably know there was trouble on the ship, they have no reason to expect anything out of the norm out here. I’ll flank around and overtake the man when his attention is directed on you two.”
“And then?” Gage couldn’t allow anything to happen to Darcy. Couldn’t even think about . . .
“We use him to figure out what’s next.”
Gage led Darcy through the knee-high grasses swaying in the breeze.
The man ahead was tall but scrawny; his attention was fixed on a magazine, his gun in its holster at his side. “About time,” he said, not bothering to glance up at the sound of Gage’s approach. “Don’t tell me she gave you a hassle.” He flipped to the end of his magazine and turned to Darcy, a smile curling on his bearded face. “The boss will be pleased. She’s perfect.”
Gage kept his head low.
“Steve?” The man cocked his head, trying to see around Darcy.
Jake took the opportunity to sneak up behind the man and relieve him of his weapon, handing it over to Gage.
“How many men in the house?” Jake asked.
The man raised two fingers.
“How many doors?”
The man raised one finger.
“Thanks.” Jake knocked him over the head, and they moved for the house. “I’ll go in first,” he said, hovering outside the entrance. “Darcy, wait out here until we signal it’s okay.”