“Hello, Ms. Steele. I am Rico Cordova. Regretfully, we haven’t had the pleasure of meeting in person before now. I apologize for the circumstances of our meeting, but I’m afraid there was no other choice,” he reassured her with his silky-smooth Latino accent.
“You could’ve just invited me up for drinks,” Chaise cooed in response. “This suite is amazing and the company is infinitely better than in my suite.”
Rico smiled at her attempt to flirt with him. “I’m afraid that wouldn’t have worked, Ms. Steele. I couldn’t risk you declining my offer. I’m not so sure you would’ve accepted my invitation. So, here we are—together at last, as they say.”
“You seem to have me at quite a disadvantage. I’m still in my bathrobe. I hardly think that’s the appropriate apparel for any type of meeting,” Chaise quipped.
“My men have brought your clothes. You may change, if that makes you more comfortable. But, I’m afraid you’ll have to stay with me for quite a while now, Ms. Steele. You have been a tad too thorough in your research at Viboro Distributing,” Rico explained. His voice was even and soothing, but held the undercurrent of inherent danger and unmistakable warnings.
Chills ran down her spine, her heart palpitations increased, and she was breathing so fast she was sure she would hyperventilate. He was telling her, in his kind and inviting voice, she would never be free again. The panic attack that she had staved off earlier in the evening now threatened to rear its ugly head with full force.
Swallowing down her fear and anger, she met his gaze with hers. “I’m afraid that’s not an option, Mr. Cordova. I have a previous engagement that I can’t break. We can finish our conversation here and I will take my things back to my own suite,” she tried to project self-confidence and courage but she was sure she had failed miserably.
Rico laughed and showed his genuine amusement. “You know, Ms. Steele, I believe we could’ve been good friends under different circumstances. Alas, it was not meant to be.”
With a flick of his eyes, the two goons who had snatched her from her room picked her up and carried her screaming into the other room. They left her with instructions to get dressed or go naked, but one way or another, she would leave the hotel with Mr. Cordova.
When they left, Chaise quickly dressed and searched through her things for her cell phone. It was missing, of course. They hadn’t reached the pinnacle of the underworld organized crime ring by making careless mistakes like that.
Within minutes, someone knocked on the door and then quickly opened it. “Ah, good. You decided to go with clothes rather than without. Less attention is drawn to us that way,” Rico teased. Chaise was not amused.
The two goons escorted Chaise out of the suite and down the back stairway. It was a long way down by stairs, but Rico seemed to exert no effort. The limousine was waiting in front of the hotel and Chaise was promptly escorted into the backseat.
As they drove off, she wondered if she would ever see anyone she knew again. The thoughts of the last words she spoke to her brother rang through her head like a persistent echo. The regret of not settling the unresolved issues with Bull weighed heavily on her heart.
Chaise was fairly drunk when Bull called her earlier. She had thought about just hanging up on him but there was something in his voice that stopped her. If only she hadn’t insisted on seeing who was at the door instead of talking to him. Truthfully, she was hoping it was Bull outside her door, waiting to see her. How wrong I was, she thought.
The limousine slowed and Chaise saw what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse ahead. The large, sliding door began to move and opened just enough to allow the car to enter before closing them inside.
The section Chaise was in looked like a simple garage. There were a couple of other cars parked inside, no doubt to hide their presence from prying eyes. An inner wall had been constructed to hide the contents of the rest of the warehouse. A simple door that connected the two sections was located in the far corner.
The door opened and several more burly, scary men walked into the garage area. Chaise was escorted into the back area. There were workmen milling about the area, putting up iron bars along one wall. They were building a small prison inside the warehouse. The entire wall was being lined with prison cells, complete with locking doors.
The stench emanating from the dark, musty warehouse was putrid. She covered her nose and mouth and tried to regulate her breathing as much as she could. Chaise fought back the bile that attempted to rise in her throat—from both the smell and from the fear that was taking hold of her senses.
She heard sniffling and whimpers coming from the dark corner. She strained her eyes to see what she was walking into and gasped audibly when she made out the shapes. A sparsely furnished, makeshift cell had been constructed in the corner. The sounds came from any one of the numerous young girls who were crammed into the small space.
As she got closer, she immediately realized they were dirty and appeared to be barely fed. The stench that permeated the air seemed to emanate from their bathroom. The bathroom, which she quickly amended, was actually only a five-gallon bucket that had been haphazardly placed in the corner of the cell. Chaise’s stomach roiled at the thought of what the poor, young girls had suffered.
As she passed by their cell, she noticed that the girls barely glanced up at her. Their will to live was almost gone and their fight to get out had long since vanished. Not one even tried to ask her for help. Chaise bit back the tears that stung the back of her eyes. She knew she had to keep her wits about her to have any chance of getting out of her situation and helping anyone else.
The men escorted her out the back door of the warehouse and onto a rickety old pier. The brackish water lapped at the sides of the waiting boat. Chaise had a very bad feeling about the impending trip. On land, she felt like she had a fighting chance to escape. She could run, hide, scream for help, and in Miami, someone was always within earshot.
But out on the open ocean, she would never be found.
“Where are we going?” she asked, raising her chin in defiance and stopping in her tracks.
The bigger man didn’t say anything in response. He simply picked her up and placed her on the boat. He jumped onboard after untying the hitching line and nodded to the other man. The boat’s engine revved as the propellers pushed them away from land. Chaise kept a cautious eye on the direction in which they were headed and made mental notes about landmarks.
After several minutes of traveling toward the horizon, the boat slowed and Chaise saw their intended destination. A large, luxurious yacht was anchored offshore. The boat she was on idled up to the back boarding platform and two more men secured it with ropes.
Chaise was escorted into the main living quarters. Though riddled with fear, her eyes took in her surroundings and noted the opulence that the criminal underworld enjoyed while she worked hard for every dime she earned. They walked her down the narrow hallway and into the dining area.
The man sitting at the head of the table was no doubt the senior Cordova. He was older, more distinguished with his slightly graying temples and crinkle lines around his eyes, but there was no mistaking the likeness between the man and Rico. Chaise approached the table and when he saw them, he quickly stood, pulled her chair out, and motioned for her to sit with him.
He called for another plate for Chaise as he took his seat. His smile seemed so –genuine—the laugh lines around his eyes were evidence of his penchant for smiling. Chaise couldn’t reconcile the two men in her head—the kind, thoughtful host and the evil, underground empire ruler. He must have sensed her inner turmoil as his face took on a self-deprecating grin before he spoke.
“Ah, I see you have perhaps heard of me, no?” His Spanish accent was thicker than Rico’s, but it fit him perfectly. He had thick, black hair with small speckling of gray scattered throughout. His eyes were almost black and his skin was a beautiful shade of brown. He was most definitely a handsome older man.
“You must be related to
Rico Cordova. He bears a striking resemblance to you,” Chaise answered with a smile. She felt like the worst hypocrite, having food and drinks with the man who had effectively kidnapped her, but she thought this was her best chance at escaping. She needed to keep her enemies as close as possible.
“You are very kind to avoid offending me by assuming he is my son,” he said with a smile. “Yes, in your culture, I would be known as Ricardo Cordova, Sr. In my country, it would not be so, but that is of no matter. You may call me Ricardo,” he explained while pulling her hand to his mouth.
“Thank you, Ricardo. My name is Chaise,” she said politely. “I see your son learned his manners from you, as well.”
Chaise’s plate was placed in front of her, along with a glass of water and a glass of wine. After drinking two bottles of wine earlier, she really didn’t want more but she wouldn’t rudely refuse him while she was still in his good graces.
“This looks delicious,” she said while picking up her fork. The waiter took her linen napkin and placed it on her lap. Chaise nodded graciously at him and took a bite of her food. “Mmmm—I love this! My compliments to the chef!”
Ricardo and Chaise finished their light meal with companionable discussions, though each intentionally avoided the subject of why she was there, for how long, or if she would ever be free again. Ricardo walked Chaise to the sitting area on the middle deck of his luxury yacht. The waiter brought their drinks out and then left them alone.
“Chaise, I know you’re curious about why you’re here with me,” Ricardo said, his voice maintaining his friendly host tone. “There are certain parts of my business that I’m not necessarily proud of, but they are a necessity. You have stumbled into that part of my business, unfortunately.
“This saddens me because I have truly enjoyed your company. I’m afraid we must part ways now, Miss Chaise. I had to meet you first, though. It has been my pleasure,” Ricardo stated.
“I don’t understand what you mean. I haven’t stumbled across anything,” she hedged. She knew she had found something big but she didn’t know all the details of it yet. She hoped to use that ignorance to her advantage. “I’ve only found some date discrepancies in your payroll and human resources documentation. That happens in every country. Why would you want to fire me over that?”
“Let’s not insult each other’s intelligence by pretending. It’s been far too pleasant to taint it with that kind of ending,” he said.
Two of his men appeared and pulled her up to standing. “Goodnight, Miss Chaise,” he called as the men walked her back to the waiting speedboat.
****************
The cutter approached the tanker with Bull and Reaper pacing nervously back and forth in anticipation. Rebel’s friend with the Coast Guard had come through and they were fast on their way to boarding the other vessel. Bull’s hands were locked in a permanent fist and they were ready to pound the first man he came upon.
“No one but Coast Guard personnel leaves this cutter. Is that understood? We do this by the book or we won’t do it at all,” Commander Harper ordered.
All the men answered affirmatively except Bull. Commander Harper gave him a pointed look, raised his eyebrows, and waited for an answer. Bull huffed and reluctantly nodded his head.
“But if she’s on there, you get her off that ship before you do anything else,” Bull commanded.
“You have my word,” Harper replied.
The cutter slowed and a small motorboat full of men who would conduct a thorough search of the vessel was lowered into the water. Bull and Reaper watched intently as the men boarded. Bull snatched up a pair of binoculars, intent on searching for Chaise in any way that he could.
When he caught one of the men in his sights, he stopped on him and examined his face. The man appeared to be looking directly at him with a shitty smirk on his face. He was mocking them and laughing at them for wasting their time searching for her. He was helping to waste time by not volunteering any information.
“Motherfucker!” Bull yelled loudly.
“What is it, Bull?” Reaper asked.
“She’s not here. The whole crew is too calm and collected. The one guy on deck is pointing over here and laughing. They’re making us waste our time—they’ve taken her somewhere else,” he explained.
“You don’t know that,” Commander Harper countered. “Now that we’re here, we will conduct a thorough search and if anything turns up, we will haul them in.”
Bull shook his head. He knew a decoy when he saw one. He knew they’d been duped and the search of a tanker would take hours. He was stranded in the ocean on a cutter with no other way to get back to shore. He was positive he would have a stroke before he was able to get back to land.
Three hours later, the search of the tanker was concluded with the exact results Bull had predicted—Chaise wasn’t onboard. They’d wasted all that time on a wild goose chase and he was no closer to finding her than he was when he left shore. He stood on deck, feeling the wind whipping through his hair, as he imagined how frightened she must be.
As soon as he was back on land, he stalked off while Rebel and Reaper thanked Commander Harper for his help. He held his cell phone in his hand and was conflicted on whether he should contact his father yet.
Even that thought alone was foreign to him. Contacting his father had never been an option before. He thought about all the strange turns his life had taken over the past couple of weeks. How his ties to Reaper led to his ties to Chaise and ultimately led him to his ties to his father. As a man who didn’t believe in coincidences, he knew there was a higher power at work, bringing them all together. He had to believe it would all work out in the end.
Putting his phone away, he decided he couldn’t contact John just yet. He didn’t want to chance blowing his cover and losing Chaise for good. He racked his brain, trying to decide the next move they should make. The idea struck him like lightning and he grabbed his phone up again.
“Brad, it’s Bull. I need you to pull a list of every piece of property the Cordovas own in Miami. Send that to us ASAP. Thanks, man,” Bull said, ending the call and turning to his brothers.
“Brad is pulling the Cordova owned properties in Miami. She’s here, Reap. They haven’t taken her away yet. We have to find where they’re keeping her,” Bull explained.
“Sounds like a good plan to start. Let’s see what Brad comes up with in his research. If there are too many, we can call in more men, divide them up and save some time,” Reaper said. The stress and concern was infused in his voice, though he tried to maintain his edge and remain the fearless leader.
Bull’s phone pinged with the incoming text from Brad. “There are twelve warehouses and two estates. The warehouses are all relatively close but the two houses are pretty far away from each other,” he relayed.
“Let’s get to the office and get our gear. I’ll call in Blake and Roman for additional recon help on the way there. We’ll get our game plan together so that we’re all on the same page,” Reaper directed. “We need a coordinated front to make this work. We have no idea how many men Cordova has.”
Bull agreed even though it was killing him to wait another minute. He wanted to storm in with guns blazing and take Chaise from wherever it was they had her hidden. He knew Noah was right—without a plan of attack, they would unwittingly put Chaise in more danger. He just hoped that she was being held in one of the known Cordova properties.
If not, Bull didn’t know where else to look. He only knew that he damn sure wouldn’t ever give up. There was no explanation for how she had invaded his thoughts, his life, and his heart in such a short time. Bull only realized that he had strong feelings for Chaise and he couldn’t let her go.
He would’ve looked for her just because he was a good man, he was good at his job, and he had a duty to act. His heart, however, was more than involved in the case. It ruled him, it ruled his decisions, and it ruled his actions. A soft, loving woman turned the tough, stoic man inside out in a matter
of days. It defied logic and reason but it was no less true.
They drove to the main Steele Security headquarters to change clothes and start gathering their gear. They dressed in all black and donned a variety of weapons in numerous locations. Laying out a map of the city, they pinpointed the location of each warehouse and the private homes.
The warehouses were located fairly close to each other, as expected, and in an old rundown section on the outskirts of Miami. Where one of the houses was located, however, was a complete surprise to everyone. The first one was in Key Biscayne, an influential island town that was connected to Miami by a bridge.
The second house was on Madden Island, which was an island off the coast of South Beach that could only be accessed by boat or helicopter. Bull and Reaper exchanged concerned looks. Any rescue attempt from that island would be very tricky with such limited access points.
“One step at a time, Bull. Let’s check these warehouses first. The helicopter was a decoy, so she’s probably still on the mainland,” Reaper said.
Looking around at the five men, Reaper continued, “We’ll split up and check every warehouse. If you find her,” he stopped and pierced Bull with his gaze, “do not engage without all of us there unless you have no other choice. Understood?”
Four of the men responded affirmatively. Reaper cleared his throat and waited for Bull to respond. “Understood,” he finally answered, but his voice lacked conviction. Reaper shook his head, knowing that it was fruitless to argue with him at that point. Bull’s nickname may have been originally given to him because of his size, but it also described his personality.
Once they had parked in a covered garage, they moved on foot toward the warehouses. They were all heavily armed and experienced in covert operations. The urban warfare maneuver would be a walk in the park compared to the dangers the team had collectively faced.
Wicked Ties (Steele Security Series) Page 17