by Debra Webb
Not once had he allowed their time together to move beyond the bounds of a working relationship. He knew better. The military had long ago drilled that rule into his head. Fraternization was against the rules.
He’d figured he would get past the little infatuation. Hell, he hadn’t been involved with anyone in too long to talk about. He should have seen this one coming, but he hadn’t. Now, here he was, charged with the duty of going after her and bringing her back.
He could do it. And maybe it was better this way. Those weaker emotions, the ones he attempted to keep in check, likely needed this lesson in futility. He had to remember where he stood in the grand scheme of things. He could not permit close personal relationships. It wasn’t as if he didn’t understand the situation.
All he had to do was to remember the deal—like it or not.
As the door to Victoria’s office opened, A.J. stood to greet the woman herself. He booted all other lingering thoughts from his head and focused on the realities. He had a job to do. End of story.
“Good evening, A.J.” She smiled. “Please, sit.”
As she strode around her desk to her own chair he noted that she looked as elegant and calm as ever. One would never know that the agency was in the middle of a major crisis.
He settled back into his chair as she did into her own. “I’m ready to leave immediately. I’ve taken the liberty of arranging air as well as ground transportation. My flight leaves in three hours.” It was the earliest flight he could get with one stop too many, but it was better than waiting until tomorrow.
“I appreciate your preparedness, A.J. But let’s have Elaine cancel your arrangements for the sake of time and convenience. The agency jet will take you to a private airfield near Florescitaf where ground transportation will be waiting.”
Surprised, A.J. acknowledged the change with a nod. “Outstanding. I can be ready within the hour.” He wasn’t going to argue with private transport. He just hadn’t expected to be allowed such a privilege. His experience in the Marines was that only those who had achieved a certain level and paid their dues were permitted the most advantageous perks. He had to remember that the private sector did things a little differently. It would take some getting used to. Elaine, the agency’s receptionist, would take good care of him.
Victoria passed a manila folder across her desk to him. “Your mission is fairly straightforward, as you know. Find her and bring her back. She won’t like it, but if she wishes to avoid official charges, she will be cooperative.”
The file contained all the pertinent information the agency had on Gabrielle, which wasn’t that much, but it was enough background for A.J.’s needs. He already knew her, understood how she thought to a degree.
He closed the folder and fixed his gaze on the woman waiting for any questions. “I need to understand just how far you want me to go in order to stop Miss Jordan’s plans for vengeance.” In spite of his efforts, he found himself failing to breathe as he waited for her response.
Victoria held his gaze for several seconds before answering. During that time he saw a glimmer of uncertainty in her eyes. That surprised him. He’d never once known her to waiver, would have wagered against it. He couldn’t tell if her hesitation was a good thing or a bad one as far as Gabrielle’s fate was concerned.
“Miss Jordan is operating under many misconceptions that make her judgment unreliable. My preference would be for you to intervene and, without significant incident, bring her back here.” She paused a moment, seemed to drag up her courage. “However, preventing her from reaching Sloan and his family is priority one.”
Her expression turned grave as she went on. “If she reaches him, her fate is out of our hands. I would prefer that didn’t happen. I’ve tried without success to contact Sloan or his household helper Pablo. If we’re lucky, he and his family are away. But he could return any moment.” Victoria pressed A.J. with a look that conveyed a great deal more than her words. “I need you to do whatever it takes, A.J. We have to stop this train crash before it happens, if at all possible.”
The decision was made. He had his orders. Personal feelings had no place beyond this point.
“I understand. I won’t use excessive force unless absolutely necessary, but I won’t hesitate should the need arise.”
Victoria nodded. “We’re in agreement then.”
“I’ll report in as often as possible.” He pushed to his feet.
“We’ll keep you posted with any information we gather on this end.”
A.J. nodded once before turning to the door. Every second he wasted was one that might cost Gabrielle Jordan far more than she wanted to pay. That was one way in which he could help her in all this.
“One last thing, A.J.”
He hesitated at the door and faced Victoria again. “Yes?”
She stood behind her desk, that atypical uncertainty haunting her expression once more. “You’re certain you feel comfortable with this?”
He wasn’t entirely surprised by her question. It pained her to ask. That much was clear. Also very clear was her reasoning, elaborating was in no way necessary. “I’m one hundred percent certain, ma’am.”
Drawing in a deep breath, she nodded once, banishing the uncertainty he’d seen in her expression. “Very well then. Based on your experience and your objectivity in the matter, I am of the opinion that you are the best man for the job. However, if you feel the need for backup, all it takes is one call. I’ll leave that to your discretion.”
“I understand.”
“Of course it will be best if I can contact Sloan ahead of your arrival,” she went on, apparently only then deciding to mention this part. “In the event that doesn’t work out, tell him that I’m trusting him to do the right thing on this. Even pure evil can occasionally spawn something good. He’ll know what I mean.”
A.J. left Victoria’s office with only a vague idea what her message to Sloan meant, but he felt no need to question her orders. He had learned well from his career in the military that there were times when a soldier didn’t need to know every detail about a mission. He simply needed the know-how and the determination to carry out the assignment.
Knowledge was a very powerful tool, no doubt. But, at times, knowledge could be a stumbling block to achieving the greater good.
This was one of those situations.
He appreciated that Victoria practiced what she preached. She had complete faith in his ability to get the job done. To his relief, much of that faith was based on his word. He strongly believed that a man was only as good as his word. It pleased him that his new employer shared that belief.
Just another reason he couldn’t allow any personal feelings he’d foolishly allowed to develop to get in his way of doing his job. He needed his work, needed that kind of focus in his life. There wasn’t room for anything else. Not anymore. He had to keep that truth in mind and stop permitting wishful thinking from overriding good sense.
A.J. considered his plan of action as he stopped by his town house for his bags and drove to the airfield where the Colby Agency jet would be waiting.
Picking up Jordan’s trail wouldn’t be difficult. Florescitaf was a small village and an attractive young urban woman would stand out. Since she didn’t know the location of Sloan’s private residence, she would have to ask questions or go on a grid search of the surrounding area. Either way would be time-consuming as well as risky as far as keeping a low profile.
Once on board the agency jet, he used his time to brush up on his Spanish. He hadn’t used the language in ages, but getting his point across wouldn’t be difficult. An hour later he felt confident with his spotty vocabulary so he took some time to consider his target.
Gabrielle Jordan was very young, only twenty-two. She’d spent eighteen months of that young life in prison. The first six months of that time she’d made a fuss about being innocent, including writing several appeals herself, none of which were taken seriously by her court-appointed attorney. So she’d shut up and
done her time.
She’d gotten out only a few months before applying for a job at the Colby Agency. Her ability to create a false identity was commendable if misguided. She hadn’t missed a trick. Case in point, she’d fooled one of the top private investigation agencies in the country.
He had to smile. The woman had herself some real brass ones, that was for sure. He closed the door on that line of thinking. From what they’d learned in the past twenty-four hours, she was the only child of an alcoholic mother who claimed Gabriel DiCassi as the child’s father. DiCassi had been Trevor Sloan’s arch enemy and an international assassin. A standoff between the two men had ended in DiCassi’s death.
Apparently, Gabrielle held Sloan responsible for her father’s death. Victoria had estimated, based on comments Jordan had made to coworkers at the agency, that she believed her father to have been a great man. She’d spoken highly of him and her wistfulness related to his death had been apparent during those conversations. Of course she hadn’t once mentioned his name. Now she was apparently out for revenge.
A.J. closed the folder and relaxed into the aircraft’s luxurious leather seat a little more deeply. He found it difficult to understand how a parent could lie to their child, or neglect their offspring for that matter. By all accounts, Gabrielle fell smack into the category of the abused and neglected. That sort of childhood twisted a person’s thinking. He could only imagine how it felt to have no one in the world to depend on. He wondered if that was the reason she’d worked so hard to be the absolute best she could be. She’d had no one to count on but herself.
Though his father had been a strong disciplinarian, A.J.’s formative years had included a secure and loving environment. He’d earned his hard knocks as a military man. He’d jumped in at age seventeen and then spent the next fifteen years proving what he was really made of. An injury and the life-threatening infection that followed during his time in Afghanistan had ended that career. He didn’t talk about it. He shifted in his seat. Victoria was the only person at the agency who knew about it. His physical shortcoming prevented him from future military service, but it didn’t stop him from being a damned good investigator.
Being chosen by Victoria Colby-Camp as one of only a few new hires was proof enough.
A.J. Braddock wasn’t down for the count by a long shot. He still had some good years in front of him.
With his experience in the desolate mountains of Afghanistan, tracking one misguided young woman in Mexico would be a piece of cake. He would not fail in this mission. Victoria was counting on him. And he needed his work at the Colby Agency to give him something to look forward to, to hang on to. He wasn’t ready to give up on being all he could be. No matter what the doctors said.
He wasn’t dead yet.
Chapter Three
The Sierra Madre mountains, washed in green forest, jutted upward around the desolation of the desert and were a sharp contrast to all that surrounded it. The desert scrub and cacti of the expansive terrain she’d traveled for miles after leaving the village had given way to the rugged landscape at the foothills of the mountains, but the Jeep she’d rented had handled the drive easily.
Her patience and persistence had paid off. A kid, maybe twelve or thirteen, who’d made a delivery to the Sloan residence from the local market had given her directions.
For a price.
She hadn’t haggled with him. At least, not once she’d seen a sort of kindred soul in his eyes. This kid hadn’t needed any more grief in his life. From what Gabrielle had deciphered from the conversation, his mother was ill and he drove the broken-down truck his father had left behind when he’d deserted the family years ago. The kid helped put food on the table for his three brothers and sisters.
Life sucked that way all too often, Gabrielle decided. But the kid…he reminded her of herself. He wouldn’t let it get him down. Instead he’d do what he had to. No matter the personal cost.
She focused a little more closely on the house in the distance. She’d decided that getting too close without sizing up the situation wouldn’t be a smart move. Instead she’d driven around it, parked at the base of the mountains and then climbed for a while. Just long enough to find a decent position for scouting out the property.
“Some digs,” she muttered as she surveyed the massive residence once more.
A fortress. A ten- or twelve-foot wall completely surrounded the property, which included a monstrosity of a house and sizable grounds, as well. A large iron gate allowed entrance from the front, if one possessed the proper credentials. Probably a numeric code at the very least. Another gate provided a secondary exit at the rear of the property. She could see a pool and what could be a detached garage or rather large workshop. The stuccoed exterior and red-tiled roof of the main house gave the place a rustic Southwestern style.
Apparently murder paid well.
Fury boiled up inside Gabrielle, but she wrestled it aside. She had to stay focused. Losing her temper or having an emotional outburst would be detrimental to that task.
No vehicles were in view. She supposed they were parked in the garage. In the past half hour she hadn’t noted any activity period.
Getting onto the grounds wouldn’t be easy. She’d definitely have to wait for the cover of darkness to attempt any sort of move. Even then—she scanned the rear gate once more—security might include motion sensors. But that was a risk she’d just have to take.
Movement beyond the front of the property snagged her attention and she focused her binoculars to check out the vehicle approaching from the road that led to town.
Her heart rate bumped up a notch. This could be him. This could be Sloan.
The vehicle stopped at the gate. A truck. Full size. Maybe four-wheel drive judging by how high the chassis sat off the ground.
A man, dark hair, dark complexion, entered a code into the keypad. Not Sloan, Gabrielle decided. He had blondish hair and this guy looked like a native of the country versus just a guy with a deep tan.
As she watched, a woman in the passenger seat leaned past the driver and pressed her thumb to some part of the security keypad device.
Fingerprint analysis. Oh, yeah, Gabrielle had known security would be tight.
The gate opened and the truck rolled forward to park directly in front of the main entrance to the house. Before the two passengers were out of the vehicle, the gate had closed securely back into place.
If Gabrielle waited until the visitors left, she might be able to slip through the gate as it closed. It would be dark soon. She glanced at the setting sun. That might work. But she would need to get into position right away. Who knew how long these people would stay or whether or not they were permanent residents? They could be the hired help. The kid from the market had mentioned there was a man who helped around the house.
Gabrielle started to put her binoculars away and get to her feet, but new movement near the house stopped her.
What the hell?
She peered through the binoculars, hardly believing her eyes.
Two boys, one small, nine or ten maybe, another thirteen or older considering his manlike features, ran out of the house and toward the rear gate. Another man, this one much older and clearly Mexican with slight features, hurried after them.
The older man abruptly fell forward onto the stone courtyard. The driver of the truck rushed up to him. Shot the old man twice in the back.
Gabrielle jerked with each sound that echoed against the mountains around her. She scrambled to her feet, almost falling in the process.
“What the hell are they doing?”
The woman, the passenger from the truck, rushed up to the man with the gun. She appeared to be screaming at him. She, too, looked like a local. Dark hair, dark skin. Young.
The man with the gun grabbed her by the throat and said something to her. Something brutal, considering the cruel twist of his face. And then he ran after the boys.
Gabrielle tracked the course of the kids. They had made it through
the rear gate but the man was gaining on them fast. Surely he wouldn’t…
Her gaze swung back to the woman who was now kneeling next to the old man. The woman cried and rocked back and forth as if she’d just lost a loved one.
Gabrielle’s attention shifted back to the kids. The older one was giving the guy with the gun a run for his money but the smaller boy…
“Damn.”
The guy had the little kid.
Adrenaline seared through Gabrielle’s veins. Her business here involved Sloan and only Sloan. Whatever the hell was going on with these kids was none of her concern. But she damn well couldn’t stand here and watch some bastard hurt a kid. No way.
She tore out down the mountainside, careful to take the route she’d chosen on her ascent. The daylight was waning and she didn’t want to risk falling.
By the time she’d reached her vehicle the man had rousted the two boys back through the rear gate, but he hadn’t closed it. Cocky bastard.
Gabrielle jumped into the Jeep and drove as close to the house as she dared for fear of being heard. She bounded out of the vehicle and crept covertly onto the property.
Even before she’d edged up to the corner of the building she’d assumed might be a garage she heard the man with the gun ranting at his captives as well as his partner in crime.
“Tell me when your father will call!” he screamed, simultaneously ramming the muzzle of the weapon into the older boy’s skull.
The boy told the man to go screw himself and Gabrielle couldn’t resist a smile. “You tell him, kid,” she muttered under her breath.
“Maybe I’ll just kill you now, smart boy!” the killer warned.
“No!” the woman cried, only then moving away from the downed man. “You promised no one would die. What are you doing, Manuel? I don’t understand!”
Gabrielle shook her head. Women could be so stupid when they were in love. She braced herself to take down the bastard with the gun.
She’d been training for a moment like this for weeks. She was the best in her class back at the firing range in nowhere Montana.