Darkness and motion and a sense of being crammed into a very tiny space all worked against her and Julia had to use every bit of determination she possessed to forget about all of that, to lean back just enough to free her hand so she could reach into her pocket.
Her right arm and hand had gone numb. She was afraid she might not be able to feel the phone with her fingers, let alone use it. If she dropped the device, it would be as good as lost to her.
Julia wiggled her fingers, stretched out her hand, and then made a fist, working her fingers and wrist until the pins and needles of returning sensation nearly brought her to tears.
The necessary exercise ate up precious seconds. She could have sworn she heard the tick-tick-tick of a clock in her head. The car continued to move at what felt like a pretty steady speed. Funny how much rougher a road could seem when one traveled in the trunk as opposed to the cabin of the vehicle.
Julia brought her wandering mind back to the task at hand. Her fingers felt almost functional again. She hoped they were functional, because she had only one chance to get it right.
Only one way to find out. Just do it, Jules. She reached into her pocket, and latched onto the slim and slippery device.
Pulling it out and holding it up, she brushed a finger against the keyboard and the display lit up. She could see the keys, which meant her vision was all right, so that was one blessing at least.
Julia wanted to call Dev and Drew. She wanted to call them and cry and beg them to rescue her. She knew that once they found out she was in trouble, they’d come for her. There was no doubt in her mind about that, period.
But she hadn’t taken the time to enter either of their numbers into her cell’s phone book. Of course, she’d memorized them both, so all she had to do was—
A clicking sound seemed to fill the entire trunk, so loud it jarred her thoughts. Then the car began to reduce speed.
Panic bubbled inside her, threatening to erupt. Was the driver turning, or pulling over? Fighting the panic, and the changing motion of the slowing vehicle, she hit the button for phone book, and then the number 4, and selected ‘text’. She used her left hand to hold the phone while she tried to see the keys she would press with her right. Her grip felt tenuous at best, and her shaking didn’t help.
The car continued to slow down and Julia felt tears sting at the back of her eyes. No time now for anything but the most basic message. So she keyed only three letters, and then moved the cursor to ‘send’.
The car must have pulled off the road onto the gravel shoulder. The sudden roughness, and then the stop, jerked her body forward and then back again.
The phone tumbled from her fingers, landing somewhere beyond her sight in front of her, between her and the far corner of the trunk.
One of the car doors opened, and then slammed closed again and the trunk lock clicked.
Julia pulled her right hand down, working it under her body to almost where it had been when she’d come to. Closing her eyes, she tried to relax, her instincts telling her to play possum for as long as she possibly could.
She prayed her captor was just going to check on her and not change vehicles. As long as she was in the same general vicinity as her cell phone, there was a very good chance she would be rescued.
* * * *
Dev felt his blood run cold. The sensation was very similar to the professional detachment he assumed when getting ready to go on a mission. Jordan’s words had shocked him, angered him, and terrified him all at the same time.
He wanted, quite desperately, to punch something or someone. Okay, maybe what I’m feeling is not quite the same detachment as when I go on a mission.
“What do you mean, she never arrived?” Drew took the two steps necessary to bring him beside Dev, effectively making them a single unit.
The hot emotions rolling off his best friend matched his own. They were like twins in so many ways. He never wanted to face a threat, or a danger, without his brother there to back him up, and hold him up.
Jordan shook his head, one finger held up—saying ‘wait’—and then turned his attention back to his cell phone. “I’m calling Adam. I’m worried. If she just had car trouble—“
“She’d answer her phone,” Dev said. Then he spied her purse on the kitchen counter. “Unless she left it behind.”
“She wouldn’t leave it.” Tracy stood behind Jordan. Peter slipped his arm around her. Clearly upset, the tiny woman hugged herself, rubbing her hands up and down her arms as if she felt chilled. “We never leave our cell phones behind. Not ever. Something’s wrong.”
Dev knew Drew hoped as he did that Tracy was mistaken, because he strode over to the counter, grabbed up Julia’s bag, and rummaged around inside it.
“Wallet, address book, makeup case, pen. No cell phone,” Drew said.
“Adam, we have a situation here. Julia headed out…what? Fuck. Yeah, she left here, on her way to the grocery in town, less than a half hour ago. Okay, let us know if you find anything. Meanwhile, I’ll call Mitch.”
“What? What’s happened?” Dev knew he sounded frantic and didn’t care. “And who the hell is Mitch?”
“Adam received a text from Julia just a couple of minutes ago. Only three letters, and he got no response when he texted back to her.”
“Three letters. SOS,” Drew said.
“Yeah. He’s going to start at the grocery and trace her likely route back to here. And Mitch is Mitchell Grafton, head of security for Benedict Oil and Minerals. Actually, he’s our head of security, period.”
“Why would you call him? You’ve got two Navy SEALs whose specialty is tracking and hostage extraction.” Movement in his peripheral vision had him remembering who else had come to dinner. “And two newly retired Air Force officers who know how to do a hell of a lot more than fly a plane.”
“Mitch has the cell phone keys,” Morgan said. He met Dev’s gaze and nodded. “Before any of us put our varied talents to work, we have to know first if it’s necessary, and if so, where the hell she is.”
“You can track her through her cell phone using GPS?” Dev asked.
Jordan turned away to make the call while Morgan stepped in closer to answer. “Yeah. Once cell phone technology married GPS technology, every member of the families, even Grandma Kate, has carried a cell phone. We’ve always had to be diligent with our personal security over the years, because being who we are has always meant we were prime kidnap targets. New technology has made that diligence easier, and like Tracy said, we don’t leave home without them, ever.”
Dev nodded, but found his attention drawn to Jordan and that man’s conversation with Mitchell Grafton.
“You need to send those coordinates to Adam,” Jordan said into his phone, “as soon as possible. She hasn’t been gone more than a half hour, as near as we can tell. Thanks, Mitch. We’ll let you know.”
Jordan slid the phone back into his pocket. “Mitch will feed her signal into the program and give Adam a first update within minutes. Then we’ll at least know where to start looking.”
Dev didn’t even question the assumption he’d made—that Julia had been taken. He knew it deep inside. He had no idea who would have taken her, or why. But if that bastard hurt her—
“I’ve got resources I can tap, too,” Peter said. Then he ran a hand through his hair. “I have a shitty feeling about this. That it might be connected to me, and the investigation I was a part of.”
Dev understood immediately what Peter meant. Julia had filled him and Drew in on the danger Tracy, Peter, and Jordan had faced a few weeks before. Peter had been targeted by a Mexican drug lord, and Tracy had been used as bait to lure him into a trap.
What Dev understood in that moment was that the gut instincts of every one of them who were used to facing danger were screaming the same message.
Dev could see remorse on Peter’s face. “The only one who’s to blame here is the bastard who took her. Feeling anything but anger is just a waste of time.”
J
ordan’s cell phone rang. “Hey, Adam, that was—where? Yeah, I know the place. Fuck, that’s ballsy, being so close to the house. We’re on our way.”
Dev knew what Jordan was going to say before the words left his mouth. He reached into his pocket for his keys, ready to go. He just needed to be pointed in the right direction.
“Adam found her car, about a mile and a half from here. She’s not there. I’ll drive, Dev.” He held out his hand for Dev’s keys. Dev hesitated only a moment, then turned them over to him.
Judging by the mass exodus, they were all heading to where Adam had found Julia’s car.
Dev had to fight the urgency within him that demanded he shove everyone else out of the way, leave them behind, and just go.
His woman was in trouble and he had to get to her.
One look at Drew’s face showed him his own emotions reflected back.
They went in two cars, and both drivers—Jordan and Morgan—ignored speed limits, if not safety, getting them there in bare minutes.
When they rounded a bend in the road and Dev saw Julia’s car, his heart damn near stopped. The vehicle had slammed against a tree, crumpling the front end of the car like an accordion. There hadn’t been a fire, thank God, but the impact hadn’t been a gentle one, either.
A police cruiser, lights flashing, had pulled up close to it. Adam Kendall stood, bent over by the passenger side front door, peering through the widow. The driver’s door had been wrenched opened. Obviously aware of their approach, Adam straightened and turned to face them, arms akimbo.
Dev was out of the car before it stopped moving, intent on one thing, and one thing only.
Adam clearly didn’t intend to stop him. “Don’t touch anything, and come over to this side.”
Devon understood the order. A quick look told him the grass and dirt by the driver’s door was rich with footprints.
“I won’t touch anything. I just want to—” What? He might not be a trained investigator in the same way a cop was trained, but he had eyes that could see and a brain that could think. All he was demanded he do something.
His brain stopped thinking when he saw the blood on the steering wheel, the dash, and the seat. Bits of white plastic and a missing air bag cover told him the safety device had indeed gone off.
“Matt’s bringing the camera and fingerprint kit. I’ve got a call in to the Rangers. They’re better equipped to handle this sort of situation.” Adam then came to stand beside him. “She probably hit her head, despite the air bag. Head wounds, even small ones, bleed a lot. You know that, right?”
Dev turned his head to the side and looked at the others—Julia’s family, all of them. Drew stood beside him, but everyone else had stayed back—whether as a way to acknowledge his and Drew’s relationship with Julia, or just as a way of respecting the crime scene, he couldn’t say for certain.
Crime scene. Jesus Christ.
He looked back at Adam. “Yes, I know that. You don’t have to worry that either one of us will go off half-cocked.” He stopped and thought about all the information they didn’t have, yet. And he thought about a family so conscious of security as to provide everyone with monitored cell phones. Once word got out that something had happened to one of their own, he had a feeling they would be inundated with volunteers. “There has to be a place we can set up some kind of command center. If she was taken for ransom—and that’s the only thing that makes sense at the moment—there’ll be a call. While you handle that end of it, when the information comes in from your Mr. Grafton, we’ll need to be able to set up maps and charts so we can coordinate the rescue effort.”
“The new hangar would make a good place,” Morgan said. He looked from Dev to his brother, Adam. “We’ve got some state-of-the-art computers, and lots of room to maneuver.”
Adam nodded, once. “All right, yeah, that makes sense. Let’s do it.”
Chapter 12
Julia huddled in the front seat of the car, giving the appearance of being frightened and disoriented, and no threat whatsoever to the man who’d taken her, the man driving.
That first part at least was not hard to do, all things considered.
Her kidnapper—she had no idea who he was—had hauled her out of the trunk before she’d acted fully conscious. She hadn’t had to fake the groans, since he’d been none too gentle and she hurt. The moment he’d lifted her, the headache she’d been trying to ignore had exploded into a fierce pounding.
The pain had been so intense she’d not even tried to fight him as he’d tied her wrists together. When he’d snapped the handcuffs on her ankles, she’d only whimpered pathetically.
Julia let her eyes drift shut, hoping that closing out the late-afternoon sun would help to ease the throbbing behind her eyes.
“Stay awake.” He reached over and gave her a light shake. “I need you to be conscious, at least for the next while. Until I decide what it is I am going to do with you.”
“I’m awake. My head hurts.” Then his words penetrated. “Until you decide what you’re going to do with me?” Julia didn’t like the sound of that, didn’t want to consider that there was any other motive to her being snatched than simple greed. But then, this man had let her see his face, and she suddenly realized that couldn’t be good. She’d be able to recognize him, pick him out of a police lineup.
Unless he intended that she never got the chance to do so.
“Miguel Ramos wants you, and he’s already paid me a hefty bonus, and so I took you. But I have been doing some research on the Internet, and I have been thinking. Your family has more money than Ramos. Also, Ramos is no longer as rich or powerful as he once was. I think it will not be long before he is either arrested—or killed. And then where would I be? So I am, as they say, considering all of my options.”
“Ramos? What the hell would he want me for?”
The man actually looked apologetic. “He does not want you for yourself, senorita. It’s not personal. He wanted you so that he could get back at your boyfriend. Because Ramos believes that losing his woman would hurt him, and more, make him feel powerless, as a man.” He shook his head, but turned his attention back onto the road. “I do believe that hurting Peter Alvarez is the only thing that is important to Miguel Ramos anymore, and I think perhaps that hatred and thirst for revenge will be his downfall.”
Peter’s woman? She wasn’t Peter’s woman. She opened her mouth to say as much, and then snapped it shut again.
Protesting her identity wouldn’t likely help because she’d already been taken. If she tried to convince this man he’d grabbed the wrong woman, she doubted he’d just let her go. No, it would be better to say nothing.
At least this way, Tracy—who was Peter’s woman—would be protected. In the meantime, she had to try and figure out a way to escape. She’d seen no gun, but that didn’t mean the man wasn’t armed. He seemed to be in a talkative mood. It would be smart to take advantage of that.
“Where are you taking me now?” She hated that her voice came out so scared and wimpy sounding. The headache really was taking its toll on her.
“Someplace where we can rest and be undisturbed. A place I know of, that no one else does.” He looked over at her, his eyes doing a quick scan of her.
Perhaps the wimpy tone helped, because he said, “You can rest there, and I think there is some aspirin there. I want you to feel better. It will go better for me with your family if you’re feeling better.”
Julia nodded, then lapsed into silence. It sounded to her as if he was leaning toward ransoming her to her family. Whoever this man was he didn’t seem to have a mean or evil streak in him.
As well, he’d told her something that eased her fear considerably. They were heading to a place and staying there, which meant he was unlikely to change vehicles. Her cell phone was still in the trunk, and still “on.”
All she had to do was keep it together until help arrived—unless something changed. If an opportunity arose to get the upper hand with this man, she’d tak
e it.
She’d feel a lot better if she were in control of the situation when her rescuers arrived.
* * * *
Juan Pecos realized he hadn’t thought as far ahead as he would have liked. He hadn’t planned on taking the woman—Julia Benedict—when he had. He’d thought he would wait, decide for certain what he would do with her, first.
But then her car had passed him on that road not far from her boyfriend’s house, and he’d taken his chance.
And he’d gotten away, was now well far away from Lusty.
Juan stepped off the small wooden porch and made his way around the old line shack. The building had been here for as long as he could remember. At one time, he imagined it had been inhabited by cowboys moving cattle, either for a local rancher, or as part of a larger drive toward Waco and the Chisholm Trail. Perhaps the occasional rustler or other outlaw had used the tiny structure to evade capture, to lay low and plan.
Juan would never apologize for the life he had led. In the Barrio, where jobs were scarce, and hunger high, a man did what he could to bring food to the table. As the oldest of ten children, he’d found ways at an early age to make money. Never a lot, but always enough to help. He’d fallen in with Ramos several years before, and for the most part, the work required nothing he was uncomfortable with.
Until he’d taken the Benedict woman, he’d done nothing to court the noose. He’d known the risk he took. The only question on his mind was a simple one. Did he return her to her family, bargaining with them directly, or did he deliver the woman to Ramos?
Miguel Ramos could be cold-blooded and deadly, as Pecos had seen firsthand. He had little doubt that in Ramos’s hands, the woman would either be raped or killed. Probably both, and the evidence sent to her lover to torture him. Otherwise, why bother to take her?
He stopped outside the back window. He could just see inside, to the old bedstead with its bare mattress and its tied and sleeping occupant.
Covington, Cara - Love Under Two Navy SEALs [The Lusty, Texas Collection] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 12