Fatal Frost

by Nancy Mehl

  “You can wait.”

  “No, I can’t. I have to go . . . now. Please. I promise I won’t take long.”

  Mark caught the guarded look on the young man’s face. Was he trying to tell him something?

  “Okay, but you make it fast, hear me?”

  Troy nodded.

  Mark came around the table and undid the belt. He helped him to his feet and followed him down the hall to the bathroom.

  Once they were out of hearing distance from the men in the kitchen, Troy stopped and turned to look at Mark. “There’s someone in your office you can’t trust,” he whispered. “I don’t think you should make that call.”

  Mark frowned at him. Did Troy know who the mole was? Or was he just saying what Vargas told him to say? Though Mark wanted to believe the kid, there was no way to know what was real and what wasn’t.

  “Thanks,” he said. “I appreciate the information. I’m not calling the office, just my boss’s cellphone. I’m sure it’s safe.”

  Troy’s eyes widened. “Please be careful. It’s dangerous . . . you’ve got to believe me.”

  “I want to believe you,” Mark said, “but I don’t really know you, Troy. You might be trying to cozy up to Vargas. Maybe you think your odds are better that way.”

  The kid’s head dropped. “I understand why you think that, but please . . .” He looked up at Mark. “Just be careful,” he said again.

  “I will. Do you really need to use the bathroom?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Go ahead. I’ll wait out here. Let me know when you’re done.”

  “Okay.”

  Troy slipped inside the bathroom while Mark stood in the hallway, thinking. Would his next move save them, or would it lead to their deaths?

  Chapter

  Thirty

  Batterson put down his cellphone and stared at the wall. He had to get his people to safety, but after finding out he couldn’t trust Carol, he’d begun to wonder if this operation had been compromised through anyone else. Who could he trust?

  He grabbed the phone again and called his friend, Colonel Brad Austin of the Missouri State Highway Patrol. Within a few minutes he’d arranged for a helicopter. It was the only way he could think of to get close to his team.

  After he located them, of course. Mark had given him a description of the property where they were—within two miles of the address Batterson had been given.

  LA hadn’t heard from Detective Jess Medina since he’d arrived in Missouri. Batterson was pretty sure the detective was dead. After getting his team out safely, he’d send someone to check on Medina, hoping to find him alive and in need of being rescued.

  Next, he called in three of his most experienced deputies: Shauna Sparlin, a twelve-year veteran with a tough exterior and a heart of gold; longtime friend Tom Monnier, a man Batterson would trust with his life; and Al Thomas, another seasoned deputy he’d worked with many times.

  These were people he trusted without hesitation. Of course, he’d felt the same way about Carol. At that moment, Batterson wasn’t sure about anything—except that time was running out for Mark, Mercy, and Lieutenant Williams. If he had any chance of getting them out alive—and capturing two important figures in the Vargas cartel—he had to move now and rely on his gut instinct.

  Once he’d finished contacting the deputies, he waited in his office. Although he hadn’t been to church since he was fifteen, he lowered his head and prayed for God’s help.

  “Batterson is sending us to find his deputies and the police officer who went with them.”

  There was only silence on the other end of the line.

  “You promised to let Troy go and allow us to move away if I helped you. I expect you to keep your promise.”

  Ephraim Vargas sighed into the telephone. “I did not say what you would have to do to obtain your freedom. You will not dictate terms to me.”

  “Listen here. Either you let Troy and me out or I go to Batterson right now and tell him the truth.”

  “And then I will simply direct my son to shoot your son. It would be very easy.”

  Al Thomas’s stomach clenched. “You mean Troy is out there? In the middle of this thing?”

  “He is exactly where I want him to be.”

  Al took a deep breath. “Either you swear to protect Troy and bring him home safely or I promise I’ll bring you down, Vargas.”

  After another long silence, Vargas made a clicking sound with his tongue. “Here is the deal. You will make sure Angel gets out safely. You must guarantee it. He will not be shot, nor will he be arrested. Is that clear?”

  “I understand. And you will guarantee the same for Troy.”

  “You have my word.”

  “And you will let us go after this?”

  “Yes,” Vargas assured, “I will release you from our arrangement. But only if Angel is unharmed.”

  “Then we have a deal.”

  Al Thomas ended the call, cursing under his breath. He’d spent his life in law enforcement, an exemplary career. One mistake and Ephraim Vargas had moved in like a tornado, tearing everything apart. Al had stupidly pocketed some of the money from a drug bust so that Troy could go to a good school—one without gangs. Somehow Vargas had found out and threatened to expose him. Since Troy’s mother was dead, Troy would have gone into foster care. In the end, the money hadn’t helped anyway. Troy had been pulled into a gang, probably under the direction of Vargas himself. Now all Al could do was try to get them out of St. Louis so they could start over. Troy was smart, and he still had a soul—something most gang members seemed to lose somewhere along the way. Al would do anything for him, anything to save him. He felt guilty turning on Richard Batterson, but when choosing between a man he admired and the son he loved, there really wasn’t any choice. He’d done the only thing he could do.

  He tossed the burner phone he’d used to call Vargas in the trash and covered it with refuse so no one would find it. Then he prepared himself for a mission that would either save him and his son . . . or destroy their lives forever.

  More than once, Mercy felt herself slipping. Her body seemed to be shutting down. It had to be her head injury. She fought to stay focused, but it was a losing battle. She needed help. Keeping her gun trained on Vargas and Ace, she called for Mark. Within a few minutes he came into the room.

  “I need to talk to you,” she said. Though she didn’t want to let Vargas know she was struggling physically, she had to alert Mark before she made a mistake and lost control of the situation.

  Mark walked over and stood next to her. When he leaned down, she told him she was in trouble.

  “I understand. Let me cuff these two and then I’ll watch them while you get some rest.”

  Mercy didn’t want to give into weakness. And even though she fought it with all her strength, she could tell it was a battle beyond her control. She could handle lack of sleep, even injury, but this concussion seemed to have a mind of its own.

  Mark went into the kitchen and returned with two more pairs of handcuffs. “This is it,” he said. “The cuffs you used on Angel are wrecked, and I used two sets in the kitchen. When Angel gets back, we’ll have to find something else.”

  Mercy nodded. “It will be fine.”

  Mark gave her a tight smile. “Once the guys return with Tally, I’ll tell them if they try to cause trouble, I’ll shoot their boss. I doubt that will set well with them—or him.” Mark looked over at Vargas. “Good thing you came along for the ride. You’re giving us leverage. I’m sure your brother wants you alive.”

  Vargas didn’t say anything, but Mercy noticed his jaw tighten. Good. It was exactly what they needed if they were to pull this off.

  Mark grabbed a pillow from the couch and put it on the love seat nearby. “Lay your head down here. That way I can keep an eye on you, Vargas, and Ace at the same time.”

  Mercy felt like she was letting Mark down. He needed her beside him. It wasn’t fair to ask him to guard Vargas and his men alone. Especia
lly since he was injured.

  “I’m going to sit up for now,” she said through gritted teeth. “I’ll try to stay awake. When Angel gets back, wake me up if I happen to nod off. I’m sorry about this, Mark.”

  “It’s not your fault, Mercy. You have a concussion.” He pointed at the pillow. “At least put that next to you in case you need to close your eyes. It will be hard for me to catch you if you pass out.

  Mercy took his advice and put the pillow against the arm of the love seat. She turned sideways, drawing her knees up and leaning her head back. She struggled to keep her eyes open, but the room began to spin like some kind of crazy carnival ride. Just seconds later, she felt herself drift away.

  Mark was growing increasingly worried about Mercy, and he wasn’t sure how to help her. He hoped allowing her to get some rest was the answer, but in many cases people with head injuries were encouraged to stay awake.

  Was he making a mistake? Would she be all right? He went over to check on her. He gently stroked her head, hoping Vargas would think he was just concerned. Trying to block Vargas’s line of sight, he carefully ran his fingers through Mercy’s hair, looking to find the flash drive. It wasn’t there. She must have moved it, yet he had no idea where. Hopefully, Vargas was convinced it was out in the snow somewhere. Was he still willing to bargain with them for Tally’s life? How long would it take Batterson to get here? If the timing was wrong, or if Vargas decided not to play along . . . There were so many things that could go wrong. One thing he knew for certain. Vargas would do whatever he could to leave before Batterson showed up. He had no illusions about being able to withstand an onslaught of trained Marshals.

  The pain in Mark’s arm was constant now. He had no choice but to bear it and concentrate on his job. He had to keep an eye on Vargas and his gang. Eight against one. He didn’t like the odds. As he sat there he tried to come up with a plan to contain things once Angel arrived.

  “You will never get out of here alive, you know,” Vargas said. “Angel will be back any minute. You have no hope of overpowering all of my men.”

  Mark smiled at him, trying to look nonchalant. “Well, you’re tied up and so are your men. And I have a gun pointed at your head. I don’t think it will be a problem. Angel won’t allow me to shoot his uncle.”

  Manuel snorted. “You do not understand us at all, do you? Ephraim runs things, and he has drummed one truth into all of us. The cartel comes first. Not the people. Not even his brother. He would certainly sacrifice him to save the cartel.”

  “Well, that’s just sad,” Mark said. “Money before family. What a terrible legacy. Does he feel the same way about his son?”

  Mark saw Elias’s eyes widen. He’d struck pay dirt. “How about this? If you give me trouble, I’ll shoot Angel. Let’s see how your brother likes that.”

  Elias shrugged. “It would not make a difference.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “I am not. The Vargas cartel is powerful because we will not allow anyone to stop us. No matter the cost.”

  “You and your men are helpless, and I’m the only one with a gun. It seems you have been stopped.”

  At that moment the sound of a loud engine came from outside. Mark got up and touched Mercy’s shoulder. Her eyes opened slowly.

  “What’s going on?” she asked, slurring her words a little.

  “They’re back.”

  Mercy struggled to sit up and grabbed her gun. Mark hated to wake her, but he needed backup, and Mercy wouldn’t have understood if he’d left her sleeping.

  Mark’s gun remained trained on Vargas as he walked backward to the front of the house. Mercy stood and pointed her gun at him as well. Mark prayed she’d be able to cover him if something went wrong. A quick peek out the window revealed the vehicle that had left tracks by the barn. If Mark wasn’t trying to appear cool and confident, his jaw would have dropped. It was an Avtoros Shaman 8x8 ATV, an eight-wheeled Russian monster that cost well over a hundred grand. Mark had heard of them, but he’d never seen one up close. No wonder Elias and his men could get around in all the snow and ice. He also noticed a smaller ATV parked next to the house.

  The back door of the Avtoros opened, and two men got out. They helped Tally down and supported him so he could walk. His feet were bare, and a blanket had been placed around his shoulders. Angel got out of the driver’s-side door and followed them toward the house. As soon as they pushed the front door open, Mark stepped in front of them.

  “Hold it right there,” he said. He could only hope Mercy had his back.

  Angel’s eyes widened with surprise while the others just glared at him. Mark tried to get Tally to look at him, but he seemed disoriented. At least he was alive.

  “Get him in that chair,” Mark ordered, cocking his head toward a recliner in the corner of the living room.

  At first the men just stared at him, but finally they helped Tally to the chair and lowered him into it.

  “Now hand over your guns,” Mark barked, trying to sound more confident than he felt.

  “You’re a fool,” Angel said. “You have no chance of getting out of here alive.”

  “So your uncle has informed me. Still, I have a gun and he doesn’t.”

  A large man with dark hair and even darker eyes held his gun out for Mark to take. As he reached for it, the man charged him. Mark fired, hitting him in the chest. At the same time, Angel lunged for Mark and knocked him to the floor. Mark’s gun flew across the floor, and he found himself staring up into the barrel of Angel’s weapon. He called out for Mercy, but got no response.

  “Now let’s see who’s in charge, shall we?” Angel said, his lips twisted into a cruel smile.

  Chapter

  Thirty-One

  Tally awoke to someone calling his name. For a moment he thought it was his mother, but as he tried to force his eyes open, he realized it wasn’t her voice he heard. At first everything was fuzzy, and then his vision cleared finally. He found himself looking up into Mercy’s face. Her expression registered concern.

  “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “I . . . I’m fine.” He licked his dry lips. “Just sleepy.”

  “You were out in the cold a long time.”

  Tally turned his head, even though the action made the room around him tilt. “Where am I?”

  “You’re back at the house. In one of the bedrooms.”

  Slowly, Tally remembered being tied up outside in the snow. He’d given up. Believed he was going to die out there. He pushed himself up, ignoring the overwhelming frailty that gripped his body. “Where’s Mark? And Vargas?”

  “Mark is in the living room with Elias.”

  “But . . . why are you here?”

  “She’s making sure you’re okay. Once she’s convinced you’ll live, she’ll hand over the flash drive.”

  Tally looked toward the door and saw Angel Vargas standing there with a gun.

  Tally frowned at Mercy. “I don’t understand. What . . . what happened?”

  “Elias and his men were here when Mark and I got back from searching for you. We took over . . . for a while, but they’re in control now. Once you and Mark are safe, I intend to give them the flash drive, Tally. I don’t have a choice.”

  “You found it?”

  Mercy nodded.

  “You can’t do that, Merce. If you do, you’ll put law-enforcement officers at risk all over the country.”

  Mercy smiled at him, but Tally could see the resignation in her eyes. She’d made a decision, and she had no intention of being talked out of it.

  “Time’s up,” Angel said. “We need to get out of here before your Marshal friends arrive. Time is running out. If you don’t give my uncle that flash drive, he’ll kill all of you. Please tell me where it is, Mercy. If you don’t help me, I can’t protect you.”

  “Protect me? You have no plans to protect me—or anyone else. First I want you to let Tally and Mark go. You’ve got two vehicles. Give them one. Once they’re out of sight, I
’ll give you the flash drive.”

  “My uncle won’t go for that. Your only hope is to give it to me. I’ll use it to bargain for your life.”

  “I don’t believe you. You don’t care anything about me.”

  “You’re wrong, and I think you know that.”

  Mercy snorted. “Oh, yeah. You showed what you thought of me when you pushed me down the stairs.”

  “That was an accident. I reached out for you, but I didn’t push you. You fell because you pulled away from me.”

  For the first time, Tally noticed Mercy’s drawn face and unfocused eyes. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “I may have a concussion,” Mercy said. She shook her head slowly. “It’s messing me up. I tried to back Mark up, but I spaced out, Tally. They took my gun.”

  “She fired at us, only she missed,” Angel said. “She needs to be in a hospital. So do you.”

  “You caused this?” Tally asked, glaring at Angel. Even in his weakened condition, Tally felt anger rising inside him. If he ever got a chance, he’d make Angel Vargas pay for hurting Mercy.

  “It really was an accident. I’m not a monster,” Angel said. “To be honest, I’d like to see all of you get out of this thing alive. I just don’t know if it’s possible.”

  Mercy stood, and Tally could see she was shaky on her feet. “So if we die, you can live with that? That makes you a monster in my book.”

  Angel’s look of compassion slipped as his eyes hardened. “I can live with whatever I have to. It doesn’t mean it’s what I want. When you’re the son of Ephraim Vargas, you don’t have a lot of choices in life.”

  “You told me you learned law-enforcement lingo from a cousin who was with the LAPD,” Mercy said. “Seems he made different choices than you did.”

  “Yes, he did. Two years ago they found his body near the border of Mexico and Texas. His choices cost him his life. I didn’t want to suffer the same fate.”