by Terri Reed
The faint smell of antibacterial cleaner burned her nostrils. She hated to contemplate the many germs that had contaminated the room. It wasn’t that she was a germophobe per se. But she couldn’t afford to catch a sickness now. Not when her sister’s life was in jeopardy.
Hysteria bubbled up at the ridiculous direction her brain went. A coping mechanism? The walls closed in on her making her skin crawl with desperation.
Frantic to escape, she looked for a possible exit besides the locked door. A window high in the wall was the only possibility. Pulling her jacket sleeves over her hands for protection against picking up bacteria or a virus, she tugged at the table but it wouldn’t budge. The feet had been bolted to the floor. Using the sleeve of her jacket, she dragged the chair over to the wall below the window and stepped up. Unfortunately, she still couldn’t reach the window. So much for escaping. She pounded a fist against the wall, the pain barely registering in her desperate mind.
She jumped down and wedged herself into the corner. Wrapping her arms around her middle, she prayed with everything in her. She’d been entrusted by their father to keep her sister out of trouble. She hadn’t done a very good job this time. Thinking back over the many times Liz had had to bail Jillian out of one scrape or another made this latest folly that much worse. Jillian was an adult, but her judgment and maturity hadn’t caught up to the number of candles on her last birthday cake.
Dad would be so disappointed. But Liz solemnly vowed to her father’s memory that she would do whatever it took to save her sister.
* * *
US Immigration and Customs Enforcement agent Blake Fallon watched the woman on the video screen. Elizabeth Cantrell. Or Liz, as she’d been clear to correct him.
Her DMV picture didn’t do her justice. Her honey-colored hair draped loosely about her shoulders, and her thick-lashed blue-green eyes reminded him of the Caribbean. The puffy, knee-length jacket hid her figure except for slender, jean-encased legs. The red color of her outerwear highlighted the pink in her cheeks.
His lips had twitched when she’d tried to reach the window. Good for her for at least trying. She was going to need to be brave and brash for what he had planned. He hoped she had the mental and physical mettle to help him bring down an international criminal.
“Here we go,” Canada Border Service officer Nathanial Longhorn said as he entered the room.
Blake and Nathanial served together on one of many joint teams consisting of various law enforcement agencies between the United States and Canada called Integrated Border Enhancement Teams—IBETs for short. Other members of their team were working to find the illegal contraband smuggler Idris Santini’s far-flung bases of operation in Canada, the United States and Venezuela.
Santini was like a cloud of smoke, visible one moment, then disappearing the next. But now Blake had a viable lead. A way of drawing Santini out into the open where Blake and his team would snag him in a tight net, like the dangerous critter he was. But to do so, Blake would need Liz’s cooperation. He’d get it by any means possible.
Nathanial lugged Miss Cantrell’s suitcase onto the table next to the video feed and popped open the lid. Nestled inside between Liz’s clothing was a small wooden jewelry box. Roses and a hummingbird decorated the lid and sides. It was delicate and appeared old. A family heirloom?
So far Blake’s information from his confidential informant inside the Santini organization had proved correct—a woman named Elizabeth Cantrell was planning to bring contraband for Santini into Canada via the border crossing in Buffalo, New York.
Blake snagged the jewelry box and lifted the lid. The rough stone necklace he’d been told about lay at the bottom of the box. He breathed out a relieved breath and untangled the necklace, then stretched it out on the table.
Nathanial snorted. “That’s it? Huh. Not what I pictured.”
The stones weren’t pretty and sparkly like polished, cut diamonds, but were still ill-gotten gains from the blood and sweat of people forced into labor in horrible mining conditions in a developing nation. “These gemstones may not look like much, but each one, when polished and cut, will be worth millions. There’s a rumor the head of Venezuela’s most violent gang had the necklace fashioned for his wife as an anniversary gift. Santini won’t get paid if he doesn’t produce the necklace before the date.”
Nathanial whistled. “No wonder Santini’s so hot to get his hands on it.”
“Yes.” Acid churned in Blake’s gut at the thought of Idris Santini. A man who’d stop at nothing to get what he wanted. Santini and his syndicate of smugglers funded an illegal mining operation in Venezuela. Though the authorities had tried unsuccessfully on numerous occasions to shut down the mine, Santini either bought off or killed anyone who endeavored to thwart him.
A joint effort between the IBETs and the current Venezuelan government had tracked Santini’s latest shipment to Miami, then to Canada. But by the time the IBETs team had the intel, the goods and Santini had disappeared.
Until today. Word was that a single, valuable piece had supposedly been stolen by one of his lower level minions to give as a gift to the man’s unwitting fiancée. Blake’s informant on the inside stated that Santini had personally abducted not only his man but the man’s new wife, Ms. Cantrell’s sister, and were holding the couple hostage in exchange for the necklace.
Thus Liz Cantrell was making the trek north.
That the woman hadn’t panicked but had followed the kidnapper’s instructions spoke to her determination. But not involving the police was pure recklessness. Liz Cantrell was no match for the likes of Santini.
Blake’s gut twisted. He hated to think what would happen to Liz and her sister if he didn’t intercede.
After swiping the necklace from the table Blake stuffed it back into the jewelry box, then headed into the interrogation room.
Liz had her back propped against the wall, her arms around her torso as if holding herself together. Her gaze lifted from the floor to him. Her pale complexion and frightened eyes tugged at him. He didn’t make a habit of intentionally scaring women. But he had to make sure she was malleable so when the time came she’d follow his directions without question. If the need arose her compliance could be the difference between life and death.
Her gaze dropped to the box in his hands. “That’s mine.” She pushed away from the wall. “You opened my suitcase.”
He set the box on the table. “That’s what happens when you carry undocumented diamonds.”
She made a face. “Diamonds? What are you talking about?”
He narrowed his focus on her. Did she really not know? Or was she playing him? His informant inside Santini’s operation said she was an innocent pawn.
Maybe.
Blake rarely trusted anyone. Let alone a man willing to sell out his boss.
Or most women.
In his experience women in general made the best liars and broke their promises much too easily. Truth and fidelity were moving targets, not hard and fast ideals.
But they were ideals that he honored.
He’d let himself be sucked in before by a woman to only be disappointed and hurt when the inevitable happened. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. Instead he took to heart his father’s motto, never let your guard down.
He shook off the memories scratching at his mind. The here and now needed his attention. Santini was the objective. And this woman standing before him was the means to an end. Nothing more.
Blake had pressed his informant for Santini’s location, but the man was more afraid of Santini than Blake. It was one thing to report a goods transaction and an entirely different one to give the cops Santini’s whereabouts. The informant had bolted, and Blake hadn’t heard from him since. But at least Blake had Liz Cantrell. She would lead him to Santini.
Lifting the lid, Blake grasped the diamond ne
cklace, holding it up for her to see. “This.”
Her eyes widened. “Those are just rocks.”
“No, Miss Cantrell, they aren’t.” He dropped the necklace. It landed on the table with a clatter. Twelve stones, held together by thin gold wire. “Those are uncut diamonds. Illegally trafficked from the mines of Venezuela.”
She shook her head. “No.” A hand flew to her throat. “Oh, no.” Anger clouded her eyes. “Those aren’t mine.”
“Are you telling me you’re carrying them for a friend?” He tsked and shook his head. “Not the smartest move.”
Her lip curled. “You don’t understand.”
“Try me.”
She lifted her chin but remained mute. He had to give her props. She had a spine of steel so far. He didn’t know many who’d face him with such bravado, especially women.
He waited, letting the silence draw out. Her expressive eyes revealed her inner turmoil. She was struggling to keep from talking but something held her back.
Was she also more afraid of Santini than Blake?
Picking up the necklace, Blake said, “I’d hate to think you were caught up in something that might land you in jail. Or worse.”
She shivered and licked her lips. “May I have some water, please?”
A stall tactic. It wouldn’t do her any good to put off telling him what he wanted to know, but he nodded. A moment later, Nathanial brought in a small cup filled with water. Liz drank it down as if she was dying of thirst in a vast desert.
Nathanial left the room.
Deciding to try a different approach, Blake sat, giving her the illusion of authority. “We’re here to help you, Ms. Cantrell. All you need to do is trust us.”
“I wish I could,” she whispered.
Ah, her resolve was weakening. Maybe another little nudge. “If you work with us, then there’s less likelihood of going to jail.”
“I have to leave,” she said with an urgency that sent an alert to his senses.
“What’s the rush?” He steepled his hands. “Are you meeting a buyer for the stones?”
Shaking her head, she insisted, “No, it’s not like that.”
She was close to caving. He would get what he wanted from her. “The only way you get out of here is by cooperating. Tell me what it is like. And tell me the truth.”
Rubbing at her temples, she said, “I can’t. He said no police. He’ll kill my sister.”
So his informant was correct. An innocent woman’s life was in danger. Now more than ever he needed Liz’s assistance. “The only way to get your sister back safely is if you tell me everything.”
When she remained stubbornly silent, he reined in his frustration and pushed harder at her with his words. “You see how this is a sticky situation for you?” Blake nodded to the necklace. “You’ve been caught red-handed with illegal contraband. We could arrest you and put you in jail.”
Her eyes grew round with panic. “No, if you do that my sister is dead.”
He felt no satisfaction in threatening her. “Then cooperate with me.”
A pained expression crossed her face, then she seemed to come to a decision. She squared her shoulders, lifted her chin and met his gaze again, showing her spunk in the way her eyes sparked. “My sister married a man who is mixed up in something bad. Something that neither Jillian nor I have anything to do with. Now she’s been kidnapped.” She glanced at the stones on the table. “Those are her ransom. If I don’t deliver them to—” she frowned but there was no mistaking the unshed tears filling her eyes “—to Fort George by noon tomorrow, he’ll kill her.”
Anticipation revved in his veins. “Who is he?”
She wiped at an escaped tear. “I don’t know,” she ground out. “We didn’t exchange pleasantries.”
She stepped closer, her pretty face taking on a pleading expression that jabbed at Blake. He fought off the sensation. He couldn’t let her get to him. He wouldn’t be that weak. His job was his life. And he wouldn’t let anything interfere with his job. Especially not a beautiful, gutsy woman, no matter how much respect she stirred in him.
“Please, you have to let me go. My sister’s life depends on me giving that stupid necklace back.”
“I could charge you with smuggling or even terrorism,” Blake stated, gauging her reaction. Her distress appeared sincere. But he had to be sure. He had to know she wasn’t involved. That she wasn’t lying to him.
Her mouth opened, then snapped shut. She seemed to be reeling in her temper. “I’d never laid eyes on that necklace until last night. Apparently, my sister’s new husband gave her the necklace.” She slashed the air with her hand. “A man broke into my apartment looking for it. He said Travis stole it from someone named Santini. And now some madman has threatened to kill Jillian if I don’t give him the necklace.”
“Santini is a madman. A dangerous madman.” Deciding he’d pushed enough and needed to proceed with a more gentle manner, he motioned to the chair. “Have a seat, Ms. Cantrell.” He purposely softened his tone. “May I call you Liz?”
Slowly, she sank onto the edge of the chair, poised as if she’d bolt at any second. He reluctantly admired her grit. “That’s fine.”
He studied her for a moment, appreciating the delicate line of her jaw and the high jut of her cheekbones. She was really a striking woman. But not in a made-up or pretentious way. Her attractiveness was natural and came from within her. He’d read the dossier on her and knew she ran an antique store left to her by her deceased father. If this were a different situation, he’d want to know more about her. Did she like antiques? Or was she keeping her father’s dream alive at the expense of her own? And what did this woman dream about? Who was she deep down inside?
A fighter. He knew that for certain.
Shaking off the uncharacteristic musing, he said, “I’m Blake. Agent Blake Fallon with Immigration and Customs Enforcement. It’s my job to help secure the northern border of our country from illegal activities. Activities that Santini engages freely in. Do you understand?”
“Of course. I’m a law abiding citizen. Normally, I wouldn’t... I have never broken the law.”
Appreciating her attempt at defending herself, he kept his tone soft as he said, “Liz, I do want to help you.”
She scrunched up her nose in obvious confusion. He was momentarily distracted by the cute motion.
“You’ll help me?” she asked. “How?”
He took no triumph in having her right where he wanted her. If they were going to see this through, he needed her to be willing to do what he asked of her. “You’ll need to help me, too.”
Her eyes narrowed in wariness. “What do I have to do?”
Valuing her caution, he placed his palms on the table to keep from curling his fingers into fists. The burn of anger at Santini simmered below the surface, ready to boil any moment. “Help me bring down Idris Santini.”
A little V appeared between her eyebrows. “Who is this Santini character?”
Blake’s fingers dug into the table. “A very bad man. He killed a fellow ICE agent in cold blood.”
Sympathy flooded her eyes. Blake tried to look away but couldn’t. Her gaze pulled him in, made him want to make her understand the magnitude of the situation. “Our intel had put him at the docks in New Jersey. Liam and I were the closest agents. I was in Manhattan, and Liam was in Atlantic City. Liam arrived first and, without back up, tried to prevent Santini from boarding a freighter. When I arrived Santini had Liam on his knees. I watched the man put a bullet in the back of Liam’s head and toss him off the side of the pier like garbage.” Blake’s fingers curled into tight fists. “Liam should have waited for me.”
“Would you have waited for him?”
The question so quietly asked had the power of a chainsaw and ripped through him, forcing him to confro
nt a truth he hadn’t wanted to face. “No. I would have done the same.”
“And then you’d be the one dead.”
Acid burned in his gut. He wanted to believe he wouldn’t have let Santini get the drop on him. But Liam was the best there was. “It shouldn’t have happened.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” she said, her voice gentle.
He leaned forward. “And now Santini is threatening the life of your sister and her husband. We need to work together to bring him to justice and rescue your sister.”
Blake vowed to take Santini down if it was the last thing he did. And this woman was the key to Blake’s revenge and redemption. He just needed her cooperation.
“Why should I trust you?” Liz asked with skepticism lacing each word.
Blake stared her in the eye and flattened his hands on the table. “You have no choice if you want to see your sister again. In order for us to succeed, we have to trust each other.”
TWO
No choice.
Staring at the man across the metal table in the interrogation room, Liz clenched her jaw until her teeth ached.
ICE agent Blake Fallon.
He took the acronym to a whole new level. She didn’t doubt ice ran in his veins. Waves of tension rolled off him, adding to her own anxiety. And yet he watched her with measured patience as if he had all the time in the world. There wasn’t an extra ounce of fat to him, no softness whatsoever. His lean frame and wide shoulders blocked her view of not only the door but also the exit. He had a strong jawline, defined cheekbones and eyes so dark she could see her reflection.
Could he see how terrified she was? Did he even care? She knew that wasn’t fair. His story of his friend’s death left an impression. He blamed himself for something that was out of his control. Most likely he thought he could have prevented the tragedy. She had a feeling control was important to him.
And he wanted her to trust him because he said so.
Well, that wasn’t how trust worked. He had to prove himself trustworthy if he wanted her to believe that he could help her. Because from where she was sitting, it appeared as if he wanted to intimidate her into doing whatever he wanted her to do. To bring down Santini. A man who had murdered his friend. And now held her sister captive.