A Promise to Protect

by Liz Johnson

  He belonged out there with his team, saving people with names he didn’t always know, not next to little girls who made him ache for a family of his own. Ashley deserved to have a family, and despite her history, she’d find it. She’d find a man who could settle down with her and provide for her and take care of the women and children who came to stay at Lil’s Place.

  And that man wasn’t him.

  He couldn’t stay here forever. He couldn’t risk Ashley’s heart any more than he already had.

  She was clean houses and security systems.

  He was explosives and dead-of-the-night rescue missions.

  He had no right thinking about her as more than a promise to Tristan. Even if every time he closed his eyes he smelled that citrus shampoo and felt the warmth of her breath on his neck.

  She was a mission. She had to be only a mission.

  One he hadn’t been able to complete—yet.

  His phone burst to life, shaking in his pocket and beeping low and even. He snatched it and pressed it to his ear.

  “Waterstone.”

  “Matt, it’s Vince.”

  He let out a quick breath. At least it wasn’t Tristan calling to check in again. “What’d you find out?”

  It sounded like Vince shuffled some papers on the other end of the line. “Looked into the company you asked about, Ithyka.”

  “Did you find the owner?”

  “Not yet. Ithyka is a subproperty of another corporation, which actually belongs to a conglomerate. And all of them seem to be front companies. They have lots of post office boxes but no actual addresses.”

  Matt kept his voice low, despite the unsettling news. “But I was there. At the Infinity bar. It has an address.”

  “Sure. The companies own plenty of property, but the companies themselves don’t seem to have owners, and the management is more phantom than human.”

  “Who are these people?” Matt rubbed the curls on top of his head, scratching all the way to his ear and back. If he pressed hard enough, maybe he could stimulate an idea that explained this whole thing.

  How was Miranda connected to Joy? And why was someone willing to kidnap her and terrorize Ashley to get to the girl?

  Whoever it was, this wasn’t their first rodeo. They’d covered their tracks, sent trained thugs and kept their identity hidden from the local police for a while now. That wasn’t by accident.

  “I don’t know, man. I’ll keep looking,” Vince said.

  “Thanks. Did you find out anything else?”

  “One thing. I found three other properties within a twenty-mile radius of the Infinity that are owned by other companies in the conglomerate, and all three of them had fairly recent building permits through the city.”

  “How recent?”

  “Umm...” Vince clicked away on a keyboard. “Within the last year or so.”

  He strummed heavy fingers on the table, rattling the plate that Greta had left behind. “Was there a building permit for the Infinity?”

  More typing on the other end of the line as he pushed his chair back from the table and began pacing the confines of the small kitchen.

  “Yes. A little over a year ago.”

  “Can you tell what kind of permit it was or if the construction was ever completed?”

  “Sorry. All I can tell you is that the one outside the city limits was a permit to add a basement to a single-story building. I haven’t gotten into the files for the other permits yet.”

  “Did you say the permit was to install a basement? In a preexisting structure?” He couldn’t keep the incredulity from his voice. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Don’t know what to tell you, man. It’s right there on the permit.”

  Four buildings within forty miles of each other. All with building permits, and at least one basement. Except, the construction on the Infinity hadn’t reopened the bar. It was still closed. Had it gotten a basement, too?

  “Will you text me those other addresses?”

  “Of course.”

  “And you’ll keep looking for a name to go along with these?” He hated the way his voice rose, matching the desperation that threatened to rise like bile from his stomach. He had to figure this out. The warning shot had been just that. A warning. The next shot would meet its mark.

  “Sure thing.”

  Matt turned off his phone, circling the room with even steps and zero pain in his leg.

  * * *

  By the next morning, he hated his healed leg. At least when it burned every time he moved, he had a good excuse for not sleeping well. This time, he’d lost a night of sleep to images of Ashley’s face as her car window shattered.

  Long before the sun rose, he slipped off his cot and pulled on his sweats and tennis shoes. If his leg really was better, a jog might make him more pleasant for the rest of the day.

  And he knew just where his run would take him.

  One of the addresses from Vince was only a little over two miles away. He could get there and back in about twenty minutes on a regular day. It’d probably take him twice that after a few weeks of limited PT.

  The night had turned the hallway eerily silent as he crept toward the muted beam of the night-light. Every room was still, but he hovered outside Ashley’s door, ear pressed to the wooden panel.

  He raised a hand to knock, but stopped short.

  She’d insist on going with him, but she was safer here than out in the open. Besides, he could make it there and back before she even woke up. She’d argue about it, but in the end it was best for him to go alone. Only God knew what was waiting at the building he was heading to.

  Creeping to the front door, he punched in the security code that allowed him to open the door, then immediately reengaged the system once the door shut behind him.

  The moon shone big and bright in the morning sky, showing him the exact path toward his destination. After three slow steps, he picked up speed, his legs going slower at first and then gaining momentum. Nowhere near the five-minute-mile pace he’d had in BUD/S, but decent, given the injury and time off.

  In short order the rhythm of his feet pounding on the deserted streets set his mind on things he didn’t want to think about anymore.

  Like how he knew it was best for Ashley and for him to go their separate ways, but it didn’t make the ache in the pit of his stomach any easier to deal with. Like how in less than a week he’d gotten so used to having her around that going back to San Diego without her was going to be miserable.

  Like the way he’d do anything so she’d never again have to carry the fear he’d seen when she was shot at.

  “God, what am I going to do about her?” The words floated away on the morning breeze before he realized he’d even spoken them aloud. He’d been doing a lot of recon and a lot of pining for Ashley. But he sure hadn’t been doing much praying about the situation.

  Streetlights began to blink off as the sun rose to his back, his sweatshirt becoming almost too much. He stopped next to a green sedan parked at the curb to take it off. His breath came in quick spurts, and he bent to rest his hands on his knees.

  Man, he was out of shape. He hadn’t realized how far of a setback three weeks without training would cause.

  As he sucked in deep breaths, head nearly between his knees, he did what he should have done all along. He’d wanted to be strong for her, but she needed more than his strength.

  “God, I’m a little lost here. I’ve been trying so hard to be what Ashley needs right now and then worrying that I can’t be what she needs for the future. I know that all she really needs is Your strength. Would You give us both an extra shot of it today?”

  The burst of energy that followed sent him sailing down the road until he arrived on the street that Vince had indicated. Unlike the neighborhood s
urrounding the Infinity, the buildings in this area were immaculate. Warehouse after white warehouse rose along the industrial road about twenty feet beyond chain link fences. There was no sign of rust or even everyday wear.

  Someone cared about these buildings. But whatever was in them didn’t warrant an intense security system. The fences were only eight feet and several sported cuts through the wire where would-be thieves had probably broken in.

  All were unremarkable. Except for the fence surrounding the building at the end of the street. It rose at least two feet higher than the others, and a spiral of barbed wire followed the whole length of the barrier. Several cuts through the wire on the far side of the property had been patched with welded iron tourniquets.

  He never slowed his pace as he turned the corner past the address in question until he reached an alley and ducked in there. He hunched into the darkness, scanning the street for any sign of early-morning activity. After ten minutes of nothing, he slipped back into the street and hurried to the fence.

  The only entrance to the fence was on the backside of the building, and it was chained with industrial-strength links and a combination lock.

  What he wouldn’t give for half a block of C-4.

  His only option was up and over.

  Untying his sweatshirt from his waist, he shimmied up the fence and tossed his jacket so it covered the barbed-wire roll. With a quick hop, he was on the other side, and he lowered himself to the ground, dropping the last three feet into an instinctive squat and pulling his sweatshirt with him. He waited for any indication that he’d been spotted, but all was still, so he bolted for the side of the building.

  Through a single window in the top half of the door, he peered into the wide room. It was basically a cement slab with four walls. No equipment or office. No place to sit or boxes stacked as storage.

  That barbed wire was completely superfluous if this was all there was to it.

  There had to be more. Maybe this place had a basement, too.

  He slipped around the perimeter of the building, following the long side until he reached a metal door, similar to the cellar entrance at the Belkins’ farm. The handle had a latch to hold it in place, but no lock.

  As he pulled the oversize door open, the hinges squeaked in protest. He stopped moving and held his breath, eyes darting around the compound in the growing dawn.

  Hugging the cinder block wall all the way to the end of the stairwell, he inched into the basement. The narrow opening emptied into a nearly pitch-black hallway, and he blinked several times, trying to get his eyes to adjust.

  It didn’t do much good, so he closed his eyes and held his breath, waiting for any other sound. No voices or breathing. No shuffles or scurries. It was deserted.

  Taking a quick breath, he nearly gagged, eyes gushing with unshed tears. It smelled of human waste and unwashed bodies, just like the South American prison he’d once had the misfortune to be sent to on a mission.

  Blinking several times and breathing through his mouth, he pressed forward. Someone had been held underground long enough to make the place reek. Probably more than one someone.

  Using his fingertips to navigate the hallway, he found a large metal door, pushed open all the way to the adjacent wall. Above the cold metal handle were two bolt latches. And their matching openings were installed on the opposite side of the door frame.

  He felt his way into the dark room, his hands running along the wall at shoulder height until he ran into the rusted metal of a chain. It hung from the wall, and he followed it all the way to the opposite corner where a manacle lay in a pool of something that did not smell like water.

  He squatted in the corner, trying to understand what had happened here. Clearly at some point, this place had held people against their will. People like...Joy? And whoever would do something like this didn’t have an ounce of respect for life. No wonder Miranda had told Ashley that Joy needed to get out of town, where no one would find her. Whoever this man was, he wasn’t afraid of taking a life.

  And Ashley was on his chopping block.

  He had to get back to her immediately.

  Just as he stepped into the hallway, the heavy metal door creaked again, followed by two sets of footsteps down the stairs.

  He wasn’t alone anymore.

  THIRTEEN

  Matt stole a quick breath, sliding back into the room and praying that the new arrivals wouldn’t hear him. Every muscle in his body tensed, and he leaned forward on his toes, still within the protection of the cage.

  “Where’s the light switch?” One of the men stubbed his toe on the other side of the wall and let out a string of curses that would have put any of the SEALs to shame.

  The other man offered a different swear in response to the pungent odor.

  Bright couple of guys, these two. He could take them out in about four seconds flat, even in the dark. But what if they had useful information? Clearly someone had sent them here. They made enough ruckus to rival the noise on the deck of an aircraft carrier, so they either didn’t know he was there or they didn’t care.

  He’d stake another leg injury that it was the former.

  A dim light flickered at the foot of the stairs, and he snuck three sharp breaths as he loosened his fists and wiggled his fingers.

  “So what did he say?”

  The guy with the stubbed toe sighed like he’d been forced to work with the village idiot. “The boss said we’re supposed to get the rooms ready. They’re transferring a bunch of them tomorrow.”

  “Why’re they bringing them here?” Maybe that guy really was the village idiot.

  After a long pause, the one with the minor limp sighed. “Because, they’re getting inspected. Because the feds are checking out the other place.” He stomped off to the far end of the hall, his companion dragging his feet in pursuit.

  They were transferring a shipment into a basement with shackles and the distinct smell of dirty humans. It didn’t take a genius to figure out exactly what that “shipment” contained. Someone was keeping people in this basement. And probably in three others.

  How had he missed it when they searched the Infinity? He’d joked about finding a picture of Joy when they searched the bar, but if they’d thought to look for a basement, they might have found equally clear personal markers—if she’d been there, Joy’s DNA would be there, too.

  Ashley had said she’d been bruised from her wrist to her elbow and that someone had done a number on her. If Joy had fought the handcuff at the end of the chain, it would have easily done that kind of damage.

  Human traffickers with no respect for life wanted the girl back. And they’d kill Ashley to get to her. But why? Did they think her broken English could reveal too much about their operation to the authorities?

  “What about that Asian girl? The boss ever get her back?”

  “Not yet.”

  Chains clanked and a hose sprayed down one of the far cells, covering most of what was said, but it was clear that someone wasn’t happy with Joy’s disappearance.

  “He find a buyer?”

  “Stupid idiot. He’s had a buyer. For the last two weeks. That’s why he needs her back.”

  Bile rose in the back of Matt’s throat, and he swallowed it quickly before he gagged on it, giving away his position. Buyers and sellers. They spoke like they were selling livestock, not people.

  For a moment he let himself believe he was wrong. It wasn’t humans being held here. It wasn’t even animals. He had imagined the whole thing.

  “What are they going to do with her when they find her?”

  Except he hadn’t.

  “Shut up.” The sound of flesh hitting flesh was unmistakable. “Don’t be stupid. You know the boss won’t stand for anyone to steal from him.”

  Especially a petite, blonde shelt
er director. He didn’t have to say it aloud for it to be true. If the boss was trying to deliver Joy to a wealthy buyer, every day meant more trouble and probably more pressure to get her back. More pressure to force Ashley to give her back.

  Time was running out. He had to get back to Lil’s to warn her and make sure that Joy was still safely hidden.

  With no idea how long the other two men would stick around, he didn’t have many options. He had to reveal himself and pray that they didn’t have more buddies waiting outside. Taking a long, slow breath, he closed his eyes and clenched his fists. A short run may have winded him, but his injury couldn’t take away the years of training drilled into him by the toughest bunch of SEAL instructors to ever walk the earth.

  He waited for the hose to turn on again before peeking into the hallway. The dim light was his only ally. One of the men stood at the far end, spraying the second stall. The other was walking straight toward him, his head turned as he yelled at his friend.

  “Where’d you say the other one was?” His voice bounced off the cement as he headed for the base of the stairs.

  Matt sank to his haunches, his movements noiseless, and he waited.

  Keeping an eye on the first man’s shadow, he shot a hand out to yank on the man’s wrist, dodging as the giant crashed to the floor, disoriented and clearly shocked.

  “What the—”

  Matt effectively cut the man’s words at the quick with a swift elbow to the chest before wrapping his arm around the meaty neck, locking his hold in place with his opposite wrist. The man thrashed about, like a marlin on the end of a line, his hands alternately slapping the cement floor and clawing at the arm that was cutting off his air supply.

  “Jack? Where did you go? Where’s the other hose?” Footsteps echoed from the far end of the hallway.

  They were about to have company.

  Matt loosened his grip on Jack, who had passed out and now laid motionless, save for the shallow rise and fall of his chest. He’d have a raging headache when he woke up, but that would be a little while yet.

  Jack’s partner stalked right past the first cell, so that Matt had to chase him up the stairs, tackling him at the knees. The man fell so hard that he didn’t even have time to hold out his hands to stop the fall. His face cracked against the cement with a sharp report.