by Karen Kirst
The sound of doors slamming was followed by the sensation of darkness. An engine rumbled to life. The floor beneath her jerked, and she rolled, slamming her head against jutting metal. Lightning arcs radiated through her skull.
The movement continued, and she realized she was in a vehicle.
Her attackers had her in their grasp.
Julian wasn’t going to reach her in time.
* * *
Julian went from room to room searching for Audrey. He’d tried her cell. It had gone straight to voice mail. With each passing minute, the certainty that trouble had found her solidified in his gut.
He entered the room at the end of the corridor and charged over to the bed, where her scarf was lying on the floor. The bed comforter was rumpled, and a decorative pillow had fallen between the bedside table and mattress.
“Audrey? You in here?”
The bathroom yielded not a single clue. Out in the room again, he noticed a set of patio doors tucked into a corner alcove. He turned off the bedroom light, readied his weapon and stole into the cool night. What sounded like commands spoken in a foreign language drifted to him.
Julian started to investigate, only to stop when his shoe connected with something. The object skittered across the painted cement and landed in the mulch. He quickly realized it was a cell phone. The screen responded to his actions, showing badly cracked glass and a background photograph of a younger Audrey with who he assumed were nursing students.
Her smiling face leaped out at him. She looked happier than he’d ever seen her. Radiant and carefree, before danger became her stalker.
His stomach went into free fall.
Audrey had counted on him to keep her safe.
Pocketing her phone, he sprinted past thick shrubbery hugging the foundation and onto a wide swath of grass between the house and a high stucco privacy wall. A half moon aided the grounds’ lamps in combating the darkness. Scaling the wall took more effort than usual, thanks to weeks of forced inactivity. He landed on the brick-paved driveway just as a white catering van left the portico and rolled onto the street. Its lights were off.
They had Audrey, and if he let that van out of his sight, she’d be lost forever.
Blanking his mind to everything but his mission, Julian raced across the lawn, careful to avoid the lights on the grounds. They couldn’t know they’d been seen.
* * *
These were her final hours.
Audrey implored God to grant her divine peace and acceptance. Her burning drive to survive wasn’t showing signs of wavering, however. She had too much left to do and experience. With her life in jeopardy, she realized she wanted to love again. To be loved. She wanted to be brave, like Julian. Her bodyguard had dominated her thoughts during the interminable ride.
He’d sink deeper into self-blame because of this. He’d assume responsibility for whatever happened to her, and she hated that. If she could get a message to him, she’d tell him that he’d been her rock during the most harrowing time of her life.
Another thought struck her. When her dad learned of Julian’s role, he’d blame him, too. In his anger and grief, there was no telling what he’d do.
She had to get free, but how?
The restraining ropes were so tight, her feet were slowly going numb. Her wrists ached and her bruised and battered shoulder protested the awkward position. She’d have to wait until they reached their destination and pray an opportunity presented itself.
Dread pounded behind her eyes. She’d faced this enemy twice and would’ve succumbed to their attacks, if not for Julian’s interference. He’d been her faithful rescuer. This time, she was on her own.
The man riding with her hadn’t spoken a word, so when his guttural voice shattered the silence, she recoiled. He wasn’t talking to her, she realized, as unfamiliar speech echoed off the thin walls. He must be speaking into a phone or radio.
The vehicle slowed, and Audrey’s heart rate tripled. Would she have a chance? Would a window of escape present itself? Or would the end be quick and hopefully painless?
Her ruminations abruptly ceased as the vehicle stopped and she heard the doors yanked open. Fresh air washed over her. She shivered. The temperature had dropped in the sun’s absence.
Hands seized her feet and yanked, sliding her along the cold, ridged metal floor of the vehicle. She yelped but didn’t resist. Had to bide her time. Let them think she would passively go along with their plan.
Adrenaline flooded her body to the point that she trembled with the need to expend it. The strangers carried her through the night, one at her feet and the other at her shoulders. Her ears strained to catch clues that might aid her. She thought she heard a boat horn in the distance. They were near the river or the ocean.
Their dress shoes skimmed the ground, catching stray gravel from time to time. Doors opened and closed, and she sensed the change immediately. They were inside a building with a humid interior that smelled of moss and foliage.
Audrey was placed on soft, smooth cushions. Disoriented, she battled rising panic and nausea.
“Is this how we treat invited guests, gentlemen?”
The black covering was removed, and she was maneuvered into a sitting position. A silver-haired man in a pinstripe suit occupied one of several wood-and-leather chairs arranged around an animal-print rug and abstract wooden coffee table. When his shrewd, gunmetal eyes completed a thorough inspection of her, he lifted a single finger.
“Remove the gag.”
His voice held a trace of an accent, but she couldn’t place it. Three men flanked the leather sofa, the same ones who’d bound and gagged her in Lincoln’s bedroom. The long-haired one obeyed the command. The twins scowled at her.
She did a surreptitious survey of her surroundings, desperate for a way out. They’d brought her to a warehouse, but it didn’t seem to be the average storage or working space. Shadows draped the cavernous interior. Unusual sounds penetrated the stillness—trickling water and crickets chirruping.
After her gag was removed, Audrey worked her jaw to relieve the stiffness. When she didn’t speak, the silver-haired man’s eyebrows lifted and humor touched his lips.
“You have nothing to say, Miss Harris?”
“What do you want with me?” Her voice had a smoky rasp to it.
“Bring the lady some water,” he ordered. “Untie her.”
His henchmen sprang into action, slicing the ropes and presenting her with a cold bottle. She didn’t dare drink it.
“I do apologize for the drama.” His smile was almost benevolent. “But then, you’ve proven to be more of a challenge than we anticipated.”
“Because I didn’t die when it was convenient for you?”
He chuckled. “I’ll admit to my mistake. I should not have ordered your death before exploring all the possibilities.”
“Who are you?”
“These men call me Boss. My enemies have given me the moniker Jungle King. To you, I’m simply Gerald.”
A man who employed myriad henchmen and who’d accrued enemies had to be involved in organized crime. But what would he want with the relatively small amount of narcotics he managed to steal from the hospital? It wasn’t enough to turn a huge profit.
A high-pitched shriek assaulted her eardrums. Seeing her cringe, Gerald gave a dismissive wave of his fingers.
“That’s probably Brutus. I’ve brought several of my macaws with me this trip. He’s unhappy with his temporary accommodations.”
“Why am I here?”
“I’d like to offer you an opportunity for lucrative employment.”
Audrey gaped at him. “First you want me dead. Now you’re offering me a job?”
“I understand your confusion. I will explain everything. But first, let me give you a tour of my home away from home.” Standing, he held out his hand. A gold-and-emerald
ring flashed, and gold cuff links at his wrists resembled wild birds, wings outstretched and beaks open.
She had no desire to take the hand of the man who’d orchestrated her nightmare. Ignoring the discomfort in her extremities, she pushed off the couch and stood on her own. His mouth thinned, but his gaze remained upbeat.
Gerald sent the men another signal. Lights flickered on, illuminating a cavernous space that left Audrey speechless.
“What is this?”
He strolled toward a massive aquarium stocked with gray, reflective fish. “My permanent residence is in the Amazon jungle. While not my birth country, Brazil has become my favorite spot on earth.” He trailed his fingers along the glass. “Business often calls me away. I’ve gone to great lengths to bring part of the jungle with me.”
“Those are piranhas?”
His smile, and the flash of angular, white teeth, unnerved her.
“Careful, Miss Harris. Don’t dip your hand in.”
As he led her through a maze of exhibits, Audrey felt as if she was in an aquarium. Not the family-friendly kind, either. He took delight in explaining the deadly aspects of his live collection. Bullet ants with bites that felt like gunshot wounds. Giant centipedes—some about a foot long—that also inflicted suffering. Electric eels. Brazilian wandering spiders.
Then there were the snakes—at least a dozen of them, breathtaking and impressive and intimidating. One of the green anacondas weighed over two hundred pounds, he informed her. She worked to conceal her unease. Audrey was beginning to suspect her mysterious captor didn’t have these species here for his comfort and pleasure, but rather to intimidate his “guests.”
They were deep into the building when a commotion drew her gaze to a series of rooms along the far side, all with metal doors and large, darkened windows. A pair of well-dressed men dragged an unconscious man from one of the rooms by his arms. Raised welts distorted his arms and legs.
Gerald’s forehead creased with displeasure. Taking her arm, he turned her back to the poison-dart-frog exhibit and began to explain their usefulness. She couldn’t concentrate. Her mind remained on the victim.
“You use them to torture people who don’t bend to your will, don’t you?”
He stopped in midsentence, his brows descending. “You’re an astute young lady.” Drawing in a deep breath, he contemplated the frogs. “Sometimes it becomes necessary to provide incentive, if you will.”
“And if those incentives fail?”
He regarded her with an enigmatic gaze. “I’m sure it’s challenging for you to understand my methods, given your commitment to helping others.” He shrugged. “There are unsavory aspects to my business.”
“What business is that, exactly?”
“To make money, Miss Harris. More money than you can imagine. Come, there’s more to show you.”
She resisted. “My medical knowledge doesn’t extend beyond the human body. If you mean to offer me a job caring for your pets—”
“I have a competent caretaker on my payroll.” His fingers clamped onto her upper arm, the steel-like grip at odds with his suave demeanor. “You will understand soon enough.”
Aware of the goons shadowing their movements, Audrey didn’t put up a fight. They knew the layout and placement of the exits. She didn’t. They were armed. She wasn’t. Even if she managed to take out one—and that was a big if—there were at least half a dozen more who’d descend upon her.
Her chances of escape were slim. Hope remained alive solely because the crime boss wanted her for something. Whether or not she would prove useful remained to be seen. She couldn’t fathom what he planned to propose she do for him. If she could bring herself to do it, she could buy herself some time. If not...it would surely mean the end for her.
NINE
Julian pocketed the wire cutters he kept in his car trunk and climbed through the opening he’d created. Spiny bushes extended along the fence line, blocking the view of the industrial lot from the main road. He shoved his way between them. Once on the other side, he stopped to formulate a mental map of the enemy’s territory.
To his left, a high metal fence topped with barbed wire ran the length of the side road that dead-ended at the river. A paved parking lot stood between him and a boxy, black warehouse that was parallel to the water. Not a single window or door was visible from this angle. A handful of foreign cars occupied spaces close to the building. No sign of the catering van he’d followed here. It had entered through a section of the fence that opened and closed by remote control. A second warehouse sat on his right, the back end adjacent to the fence behind him and the front facing the distant river. It was older, with signs of rust and wear.
Which to investigate first? Every second Audrey was with her captors was life or death.
He hadn’t even considered involving local law enforcement. There wasn’t time to call in a SWAT team. Plus, they had to play by a certain set of rules. He wasn’t bound by oaths or taxpayers’ money.
Preaccident, he would’ve shot off texts to his teammates. They would’ve descended on the target and worked out an infiltration plan. He was on his own now, and he inwardly railed against their pointless, premature deaths.
He freed his weapon from its holster. Audrey wasn’t going to suffer the same tragedy. No way.
Hazy light from streetlamps bounced off the car windows. Their proximity to the black structure cemented his decision. Please, Lord, let it be the right one.
He didn’t take the time to analyze the unexpected plea to his Creator. Scanning for security cameras, he took a circuitous route, keeping to the trees and then traveling the length of the older warehouse. At the corner, he surveyed the area that had been in his blind spot. He counted seven shipping containers. A sleek, red Ferrari was sandwiched between the containers and identical box trucks. Beyond that, a modest-size yacht was moored to a short dock.
Movement in his peripheral vision registered. Pressing close against the weathered siding, he studied the goon with an M16 slung over his shoulder. That was some serious firepower. He paced beneath an awning while puffing on a cigarette. Behind him, garage doors flanked a set of double doors—Julian’s way into that building.
About twenty-five yards stretched between him and the first car. No cover. Nothing to hide his presence.
He’d have to be fast.
Crouching low, he waited for the goon to pivot and retreat in the opposite direction. The instant his shoe sole rotated on the cement, Julian made for the car. He reached it in time, but barely. No way to know if cameras had caught his progress and alerted the building’s occupants.
Peering around the bumper, he again waited for his opportunity. He got it when the goon took a long drag of his cigarette and bent to grind it into a receptacle.
Julian sprang into action. The element of surprise gave him an edge.
“Psst.”
The guy whirled around. Julian balled his fist and landed a swift, hard punch to his temple. His head snapped to the side, and his knees buckled. He slumped to the ground. Julian crushed his phone and comm device and relieved him of his weapons. If he had the means, he’d truss him up. At least this would slow him down once he regained consciousness.
The double doors had a pass-code lock. If he’d had a drill with him, he could’ve gotten it open. He had to resort to breaking off the knob with the M16’s butt stock, then kicking it in. Inside, he found himself in a long hallway with multiple doors. He would have to work his way through them until he located Audrey. But first, he had to deal with the camera in the corner. He’d announce his presence when he was good and ready.
* * *
Gerald ushered her through a metal door fit with a frosted glass insert. Antiseptic smells and gleaming machines greeted her. An EKG machine, oxygen tanks, defibrillator, pulse oximeter and more. Ten hospital-grade beds occupied the sterile, brightly lit room, and all were
empty except for one. A teenage boy was lying asleep in the last bed, his arm in a cast.
Audrey turned her head and found Gerald regarding her with anticipation.
“You have your own private clinic,” she said, his intentions starting to take shape.
Black-market medicine. That’s what all this turmoil was about.
“Take a look around. You’ll see I’ve stocked it with a variety of equipment.”
He stayed close as she ventured farther into the room. Pristine white cabinets, complete with locks, lined the far wall. She wasn’t as interested in the supplies as she was the young man. As they neared, she was able to see that his lip was busted and one of his eyes was nearly swollen shut.
“Who’s the patient? Someone else who dared cross you?”
He smirked. “I am not in the habit of tending my enemies’ injuries.” Strolling to stand at the foot of the bed, he said, “This is one of my employees. Ethan’s forearm was broken in three places and required surgery.”
She assessed his vitals on the screen by the bed. “Did you notice his pulse is elevated?”
“Is that bad?”
“It can indicate he’s in pain or dehydrated.” The ward had the equipment and supplies necessary for treating life-threatening injuries. What it didn’t have was medical personnel. “He needs fluids and someone to monitor his pain levels.”
“This is exactly why you’re needed, Nurse Harris.”
“Can you point me to the intravenous equipment?”
“Unfortunately, I’m not acquainted with the arrangement of supplies.”
Hiding her exasperation, she went searching and located pain reliever and Ringer’s lactate solution. Within ten minutes, she’d inserted the IV port and administered the medication.
“He looks like he’s in high school,” she said. “What could he possibly do for you?”
“Ethan is twenty. Young, strong and teachable.”
Audrey’s stomach churned. During their exploration of the warehouse, she’d glimpsed a staging area with crates containing assault rifles. Her captor had rushed her into another section. Gerald’s organization could be involved in more than illegal weapons. Most likely, they dealt in narcotics and other gang-related activities that led to violence and cruelty and untold deaths.