Freeze Frame

by Judith Rochelle

  Mike leaned down and pressed a soft kiss on the top of Kat’s head. Just his presence was easing the anxiety that had gripped her since this whole nightmare began. She wriggled back against him, absorbing the warmth of his body.

  “I’m really glad you’re here,” she told the man who had suddenly become enormously important to her. More so than previously.”

  “Because you need a dashing daredevil?” he teased.

  “That too.” She dredged up a grin from somewhere. “But mostly because it’s you.” She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. “Mike, I…”

  “I thought we agreed not to rehash the past anymore. I’m here and I’m in for the long haul. I’ll never leave you like that again. Ever. No matter what.”

  Putting his hands beneath her elbows, he lifted her from the bench and turned her to face him. In his eyes she saw so much caring and concern that it made her heartbeat flutter. He looked at her as if trying to tell her with his eyes everything that was in his heart. Then his mouth brushed against hers, a touch as light as a butterfly’s wings and shivers raced through her.

  When his tongue traced the seam of her lips she opened for him as if it was the most natural thing to do. As if they’d been doing it forever. When his tongue swept inside she met it with her own, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing herself closer to him. She could feel the hard ridge of his erection pressing against the soft flesh of her belly and moved her hips back and forth against him.

  He groaned and lifted her in his arms without breaking the kiss, carrying her into the bedroom. When he set her on her feet she was trembling with need. Heat flared in his eyes as he pulled the thin, short-sleeved sweater over her head and his gaze feasted on her breasts, barely contained by the silk and lace of her bra.

  “Kat, I should be shot for even wanting you with everything that’s going on and the danger to your sister. But—”

  “Hush. Our feelings for each other aren’t going to stop while this is going on. And Mari would be the first one to tell me to grab onto you and hold on. So that’s what I’m doing.”

  “I love you, Katherine Culhane.”

  She heard the emotion in his voice and it ratcheted up the heat factor even more.

  “I love you too, Michael D’Antoni.”

  “Took me long enough to come to my senses,” he told her in a husky voice, his fingertips tracing the edges of the lace cupping her breasts.

  “I’m not letting you change your mind this time,” she whispered.

  “You couldn’t even if you wanted to.”

  They undressed each other slowly, touching and caressing as each inch of skin was exposed. Mike’s mouth paid homage to her nipples, his hands probed the heat between her thighs. She trembled as her hands found the hot length of him and she wrapped her fingers around it.

  Then they were lying on the cool sheets, Mike rolling on a condom with hands not quite steady. She opened her thighs to welcome him and he entered her with one, hard thrust.

  Home!

  That was all Kat could think.

  This is home.

  And then the time for thinking was over.

  * * * * *

  Rip was in his bathroom, the only place he was able to find any privacy. He’d slipped a disposable phone into the pocket of his slacks and, with the water running, just in case, dialed a familiar number.

  “I want to talk to Herrera,” he told Nando. “Right now.”

  Nando’s laugh made his nerves jump. “I don’t think he wants to talk to you. He leaves this all up to me.”

  “Damn it, I have to talk to him.” Rip couldn’t control the frustration in his voice. “I need some assurances about the hostages.”

  “We have sent you pictures, no? That should be assurance enough.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Rip snorted. “Right. You send us a picture of four people who look like you’re using them for punching bags and expect everyone to be happy? The fucking feds are sitting on everyone. They want guarantees.”

  “I don’t think anyone is in the position to be asking for that,” Nando pointed out to them. “We have the trump cards.”

  “What if the feds or these other two guys refuse to let us hand over the bonds before we have the hostages back?” Rip demanded. “Or what if they have something up their sleeves they aren’t telling us about? Surely you don’t think they’ll just let ten million in blank bearer bonds walk out the door without some kind of guarantee about the hostages.”

  “Then it’s up to you to make them see the idiocy of their ways.”

  Rip raked his hands through his already rumpled hair. “I’m in a very bad spot here. I have to speak to Herrera. I need a real guarantee he’s going to let those people go. And when.”

  “You are in no position to be demanding anything, amigo. Just let it play out. Herrera knows what he’s doing.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  He snapped his phone shut and banged his hand on the vanity counter.

  Shit!

  Chapter Twelve

  Kat was a bundle of nerves in the morning but she knew Mike needed her to keep herself together. She’d given them everything she could about the location where the hostages were being held. Now it was up to them to pinpoint it. She fidgeted through breakfast, waiting for Ed’s call that he’d arrived.

  “If you push those eggs around any more they’re going to jump off the plate,” Mike teased. She knew he was trying to ease her tension.

  “I’m sorry.” She set her fork down on the edge of her plate. “I’m just having a hard time waiting.”

  “I know, kitten.” He took one of her hands in his and squeezed it. “But I promise you we’ll get this done. Now come on. Eat a little. Then we’re going to put some alternate plans together for when Ed gets here.”

  Obediently she picked up her fork, put a tiny bite of egg in her mouth, chewed it and swallowed. It tasted like Styrofoam. “Do you think you should try calling Ron Pelley or that FBI agent again? Maybe they’ve heard something.”

  On her other side Mark snorted. “I’m sure they have. And I can also tell you we won’t hear a thing from them until the ransom drop, whatever it is, goes down and they still don’t have the hostages back. Then they’ll be more than happy for us to save their bacon.”

  “That’s sure the way things have been turning out the last year or so.” Mike could barely hide the bitterness in his voice.

  Kat looked at him, eyebrows raised. “I thought you guys did some contract work for the government, or am I mistaken?”

  “Not with the FBI, though,” he told her. “They’re very territorial. Extremely so. And when they do end up needing us, you’d think we had shit all over us when they came to meet with us.”

  “Forget it,” Faith said. “Turf wars can wait until we get everyone back. Safe and sound.” She reached over and touched Kat’s hand. “We’ll get them back. Don’t worry. These guys can do anything.”

  They had room service send up a fresh pot of coffee, which the waiter brought when he came to clear their dishes. They pulled out the printouts of the aerial maps Andy had sent them, spread them on the table and settled down to try to figure out the best plan of attack.

  “I wish I could have pinned down the location of where they are a little better,” Kat told them. “Sometimes it works really well but with the problems I’ve had lately, even with Brent out of the picture…”

  “Quit it,” Mike said, Lifting her hand and placing a kiss on her knuckle. “You’re doing great. You need to keep your mind clear so you can focus when we get more information to give you.”

  “When you get a better location on Victor Herrera’s estate, or acreage or whatever it is, I can use those coordinates and pictures to give you a better look at what’s on the ground. Maybe if see how many guards there are and exactly where on the grounds they’re being held.”

  “That’s good. We’ll be counting on you, Kat.” Mark spread out the aerial photos. “And you can help us in th
e flyover too.”

  She wrinkled her forehead. “How can I do that?”

  “We’re going to get one chance to eyeball this. The Mike and I will be doing their thing in the cockpit, I’ll be running a camera to capture everything we pass over. But we’ll need you and Faith to act as spotters.”

  She felt a little better at having a useful role to play. “I can do that.”

  “Good, good.” He cleared his throat. “Now. Let’s figure out what we need to take with us in our flyover. I emailed Ed a list of what to bring. Anything else we’ve already got in the plane.”

  * * * * *

  The hostages knew it was morning by the weak light filtering in through the high slit of a window. Eli climbed stiffly to his feet, gingerly working the kinks from his muscles. It had taken a long time but they’d finally stanched the bleeding from his nose and he’d satisfied himself that it wasn’t actually broken. He might have difficulty breathing for a while but at least it was intact.

  Lissa had just stirred, lifting her head from Sydney’s lap and Mari was just coming out of the terrible excuse for a bathroom. He couldn’t believe how uncomplaining everyone was. He knew his wife had great inner strength but he was so proud of the way she was handling things. He had a new level of respect for both her and their daughter.

  And Mari. Ignoring her own injuries she’d maintained a calm presence, never letting the others see how rattled she might be or what pain she might be in. She’d soothed Lissa when Sydney had retreated to the bathroom to pull herself together and worked hard to keep everyone’s spirits up, despite the pain he knew she was suffering.

  He’d used part of the time, sitting against the wall in the hot, humid dark, to try to figure out who in hell had fingered them. Who could have hooked up with their kidnappers—and he knew with a sure certainty now it was the lease of one of the drug cartels—and planned this? Who needed money so badly? Or hated them so much? Or both?

  His problem was the first people who came to mind he instinctively wanted to reject out of hand. He didn’t want to think that someone he was close to, did business with, would be involved in something like this.

  The wood bar slammed outside, the door opened and Pedro entered. Enrique followed him, carrying a tray with bottled water and the by now dreaded tortillas. He set the tray down against one of the walls, then stood back, arms folded across his chest.

  Eli had an urge to pick up the tray and throw it at him, but clenched his fists to keep from making a rash move. By now he’d kill for a steak and they all would have sold their souls for some halfway decent coffee. Even Lissa, who was being so brave and good he was enormously proud of her, said she’d be willing to beg for chocolate. But they said nothing, just waited for the two men to leave.

  Pedro raked his gaze over each of them, the malicious smile they’d come to expect twisting his lips.

  “Today may be a good day for you,” he said at last. “If everything goes according to plan, that is.”

  Eli felt a thread of hope wiggle through him. Was the ransom going to be paid? Would they actually be released?

  “What, nothing today?” Pedro prodded. “You should hope all the arrangements go through as planned. Otherwise…” he eyed Lissa, “I may have to find some other way to provide satisfaction to El Jefe.”

  Eli reached for his daughter and pushed her behind him. “Leave her alone.”

  “Or what?” Pedro laughed. “You aren’t in very much of a position to object to anything, Señor Wright. You should just pray your friends come through for you.”

  Friends? Eli thought. Was more than one person involved in this?

  “Who exactly is El Jefe?” he asked. “And why can’t we meet him? If he’s responsible for this, why can’t I look him in the eye and asked how this happened?”

  “He has us to take care of things for him,” Pedro snapped. “He does not get personally involved in activities.”

  “I want to see him,” Eli pursued stubbornly.

  “Eli,” Sydney cautioned but he ignored her. He’d had enough. He wanted to meet his captor face to face.

  But Pedro, instead of answering him, reversed his rifled and jabbed it into Eli’s stomach. He doubled over from the pain, fighting the nausea that threatened to erupt from his mouth.

  “We are done here,” Pedro told him. “That’s answer enough for you.”

  He nodded to Enrique and the two men backed out of the door. Then the wooden bar slammed back into place again.

  * * * * *

  Anthony Delaware sat in silence while Ron Pelley signed the receipt for delivery of the bearer bonds. The messenger from the investment house tore off a copy and gave it to him, nodded and left as quietly as he’d come. Pelley ripped open the thick delivery envelope, slid the bonds out onto his desk and counted them very carefully.

  “Is it all there?” the agent asked.

  Pelley nodded. “All in order. I had my investment banker sign them so there was a neutral signature.”

  “Ten million dollars doesn’t make as big a stack as I thought it would.”

  Pelley grimaced. “The kidnapper wanted them in large denominations. Doesn’t take up so much room that way.” He looked up at Delaware. “I don’t suppose you’ve had any luck finding out who this is, have you.”

  The agent swallowed a bitter taste in his mouth. “I wish. Whoever this is, he’s obviously done it before and often enough to know how to get around all our technological tricks. And no one on the streets is giving anything up. Believe me, we’ve hit all of our contacts.”

  He’d had calls coming in all throughout the previous day and into the evening. Every agent had pulled in their snitches and pressed them for information. All with the same results. Nada.

  “The problem,” his boss had told him when he called for some added muscle, “is there are so many kidnappings going on all the time it’s hard to sort out one from the other. Last year there were more than four hundred. That exceeds one a day.”

  The news depressed Delaware even more. He’d also come to the realization that even if they knew something, people were too scared to talk.

  “When they’re more afraid of someone else than the big, bad FBI,” Anthony said before ending his phone call, “you can be pretty damn sure we’re dealing with a cartel. They invented the word vicious.”

  He realized Ron Pelley was saying something to him and jerked himself out of his mental wanderings.

  “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

  “I said,” Pelley repeated, irritation in every word, “that I don’t like the idea of just turning this ransom over without some kind of guarantee. You don’t even know where the bonds will be going.”

  “We’re not that stupid, Mr. Pelley. We have a plan in place.”

  He nodded to the tech who’d arrived back early that morning. The man stepped up next to the desk took the stack of bonds, riffled through them and pulled one partway out. From his pocket he took a thin plastic envelope and a pair of latex gloves. Snapping on the gloves, he removed a tiny wafer-thin snippet of paper from the envelope and attached it to the underside of one corner of the bond he’d selected.

  “What’s that?” Pelley asked.

  “A brand new type of GPS tracker. Developed especially for Homeland Security but they’re letting us give it a test drive. If they run any scanners over it, they won’t find anything because the frequency is so different.”

  “And if they do?” Pelley demanded. “They could kill the hostages without a second thought.”

  Delaware stared at him, expressionless. “We know what we’re doing, Mr. Pelley. You just do your thing and we’ll do ours.”

  * * * * *

  They were still poring over the aerial shots Andy had sent them when Mark’s cell phone chirped, he checked the caller ID and he flipped it open.

  “Okay Andy. Go. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Okay, wait.” He pulled his laptop around, clicked on the email icon and a multi-page document opened up. “Okay. Got it. Thanks. And keep diggi
ng.”

  Three pairs of eyes stared at him as he disconnected the call.

  “Give,” Mike said.

  “Andy’s got us a little more information on the three stooges.” They’d left the little printer hooked up in Mike and Kat’s suite, so all Mark had to do was click on the print icon and wait for the pages to spit out. He began handing them around as he pulled them out of the tray.

  “Holy crap,” Mike said, scanning the first two pages in his hand. “Ryan Post seems to have gotten himself in a little over his head expanding his spas. He’d already gone through most of his trust fund and tried some quick schemes to get it back.”

  “He certainly had some…um…exotic ideas,” Kat commented, reading over Mike’s shoulder. “How does anyone go through a million dollars in that little time?”

  “By having his brains in his ass instead of his head,” Mark snorted. “And trying to outdo his very much smarter brother-in-law.”

  “So are you saying he borrowed from the wrong people?” Faith wanted to know.

  “Looks like it,” Mark told her. “Unfortunately Andy’s still trying to follow the money trail. The paper’s changed hands more times than a deck of cards. If it leads us back to Victor Herrera, we’ve got our answer.”

  “Or,” Mike said, scanning the next couple of pages, “it could be Ron Pelley who’s personal net worth has taken a tumble with the economy. He’s been taking some high flyers in some pretty unorthodox ways to recoup his losses and keeping things hidden from Eli Wright. He also has an ex-wife who he pays hefty alimony to who isn’t the kind to be sympathetic to circumstances.”

  “Let me see that.” Mark grabbed the sheet out of her hand. “Hmm. You know someone like him, if he found himself under the hammer of the wrong people, could be ripe to approach for a stunt like this. He could even have been pressured to use one of Wright’s companies to move drugs into the country.”

  “I don’t like the sound of that. Andy better dig deeper into this.” Mike was reading over his shoulder. “Uh-oh. Look here.” He pointed to part of the report. “This could be an indication he’s trying to fix the problem by diverting Wright International funds into private offshore accounts. A piece of the ransom would get him healthy again in a hurry.”