Colby Brass

by Debra Webb

  St. Patrick’s was the second oldest church in the city, one of the few structures to survive The Great Chicago Fire. Architecturally it was admirable, but Von had never been much of a churchgoer.

  It had something to do with God abandoning her when she needed Him most. She let it go the first time it happened, when she was thirteen. But then…six years ago, He let her down again.

  The past was the past, she reminded herself.

  She shivered, though they sat in the relative comfort of the car. Just staring at the hulking structure of the church with the snow falling around it felt foreboding somehow. The holiday decorations were another sore spot with her.

  Face it, girl, you have some serious baggage.

  Trinity, of all people, should see that.

  Whatever. This investigation had to be her total focus right now.

  That they were to meet Lane—a man who profited from the sale of humans—was likely the underlying factor motivating her feeling as she’d been cast into some sort of sinister theater production.

  The briefcase containing the money and two state-of-the-art tracking devices was in the backseat. Backup was stationed two blocks away, well outside possible enemy detection range. Von had strapped a .32 to her ankle, as had Trinity. Communication links were in place. Backup, Simon and Jim, would be aware of every word.

  Once again Lane was running a few minutes behind.

  Trinity reached into his jacket and withdrew his cell phone. He glanced at the screen, then at her. “It’s Lane.” After pressing the necessary buttons, Trinity said, “You’re late. We had a deal, Lane.”

  The hesitation that crackled in the air warned that Lane understood he was on speaker.

  “I have you on speaker,” Trinity put in quickly, “my wife is here, waiting, with me.”

  “I’m very disappointed, Mr. Lane,” Von managed to say though her mind still reeled with the idea that Trinity had called her his wife.

  That was her role in this undercover operation.

  She was Louise Barton, wife to Myles Barton.

  But it felt…strange.

  “There’s been a change of plans.”

  An alarm wailed in the back of Von’s brain.

  “I’m paying you exceedingly well, Lane,” Trinity reminded their contact. “You came highly recommended. I have no patience for games. You should have given me a straight up no before you took my money. This conversation is over.”

  “All is in order, Mr. Barton,” Lane hastened to say. “We’ve changed the transaction location. That’s all. I have what you want.”

  Trinity held Von’s gaze. “I’m not happy about this, Lane.” Trinity allowed a beat of thick silence. “But I’m prepared to move forward.”

  “Just one more thing,” Lane said.

  “Mr. Lane, this is becoming tedious.”

  Von’s attention flew to the rearview mirror to the glare of headlights approaching from their rear. She clutched Trinity’s sleeve and nodded to the rearview mirror. Three seconds later a gray sedan pulled up next to theirs. The dark tint on the windows concealed the driver as well as any passengers.

  “I’m sure you understand what you need to do,” Lane said.

  “Lane—”

  “This is ridiculous,” Von snapped, cutting Trinity off. “We’re supposed to get in this gray car you’ve sent and just go wherever it takes us?”

  Lane had severed the telephone connection.

  Von’s door opened.

  Her gaze collided first with the business end of a weapon. “Get out,” the masked man holding the gun demanded.

  Behind her, Trinity was receiving a similar order.

  “There’s no need for guns,” Trinity said. “I don’t know what’s—”

  “Do as you’re told and shut up,” the man holding the weapon aimed at Trinity commanded.

  Von climbed out, as did Trinity. Their escorts led them around to the gray sedan and ushered them into the backseat. Trinity’s escort snatched the cell phone from his hand; Von’s ripped the purse from hers.

  After a quick search of her purse, he held out his hand. “I’ll need your cell.”

  Von dragged the phone from her jacket pocket and placed it in his hand. “I just got that phone,” she complained with the petulance that was a trait of her cover. And any info she could give to Jim and Simon via the com link, the better.

  “Get in,” the man roared, pushing her toward the open door of the gray sedan’s back seat.

  When she and Trinity were inside and the doors closed, the man who’d ushered her into the car dropped into the front passenger seat. He settled the briefcase containing the money in the seat between him and the driver. The tracking devices inside would ensure Jim and Simon were able to follow their movements despite the abrupt change in plans.

  As soon as the doors closed, the sedan peeled away.

  “Where are you taking us?” Trinity demanded. “What’s going on here?”

  “You’ll have your answers soon,” the guy in the passenger seat said with a glance toward Trinity.

  Von settled back into her seat. She took Trinity’s hand in hers to keep up the pretense of being his wife—who would unquestionably be frightened at the moment.

  His fingers were stiff at first, but it wasn’t long before they closed around her hand.

  Von swallowed back the emotion that rose into her throat.

  If he would just let it go.

  Even after all this time, he tugged at her emotions. Just being near him…remembering. Despite the fact that she chastised him for remembering, she remembered.

  All too well.

  She wiggled her hand free of his.

  This wasn’t a good idea.

  She remembered everything.

  Von closed her eyes and cleared her head. She summoned the image of Lily Larkin and all other thought vanished.

  Tonight…right now…nothing else mattered except finding that little girl.

  They were headed away from the city.

  Von’s instincts bumped into hyperspeed. She didn’t dare look back to see if backup could be spotted somewhere in the distance.

  Jim and Simon were too good to be given the slip by these morons. She glared at the two masked men in the front seat. And there were the tracking devices. She and Trinity were covered. Not to mention they were both still armed, but playing this out in an attempt to get as much information as possible was necessary.

  It was possible that their contact had opted to take extreme measures to ensure security, but Von had been in this business too long to hold out more than a fleeting hope on that score.

  Lane had been suspicious all along.

  The prospect of a highly lucrative deal had kept him from walking away…but, evidently, someone higher up the food chain had made him see the hastiness of his decision and made the final call.

  There would be no deal tonight.

  More likely she and Trinity would be taken somewhere and interrogated. It wouldn’t be pretty. And, unless, backup intervened, they wouldn’t likely survive. Lane would get the money either way.

  Funny, she considered Trinity’s profile, she’d started out in this business with him. He’d had that swagger down to a science. The cowboy boots and the worn soft jeans. He’d charmed her with one look. But that had been a long time ago. Now, after all they had survived, it looked as if they would be ending their careers together.

  But it wouldn’t be without a fight.

  She crossed her legs, placed her right hand on her knee, allowed her fingers to slip down to her ankle and trace the outline of the weapon strapped there.

  As if his gaze had summoned her, she turned to the man at her side. His lips tilted upward just a fraction…just enough for her to know that he wasn’t worried.

  He wasn’t going down without a fight, either.

  Her heart bumped hard against her chest when his hand closed around hers once more.

  They would get through this.

  It wouldn’t cha
nge things between them but at least they would be alive.

  HALF AN HOUR OF SILENCE elapsed before they reached their destination.

  The driver parked in front of a barnlike structure. Beyond the small clearing the area around the structure was wooded. The moonlight reflecting off the snow gave the place an eerie look. Two SUVs were parked to one side.

  The men in front climbed out.

  “Don’t do anything until I say so,” Trinity murmured to her a split second before their doors were wrenched open.

  She nodded her understanding.

  Not wanting to be dragged from the vehicle, Von emerged and started forward. The muzzle of her escort’s handgun jammed into her back as a reminder that she should continue her submissive behavior.

  Two SUVs were parked outside the building.

  As they approached what she now realized was in fact a barn, the wide doors opened.

  Inside was nothing at all like a barn. No stalls. No hayloft. There were concrete floors and fluorescent lights. Desks and chairs and two sofas. Several doors lined the far end of the structure. All were closed. No windows.

  A transfer station.

  Considering the goods Lane traded in and the out of the way location…definitely a transfer station.

  This was where they brought the kids…where they kept them until they were shipped out.

  Disgust twisted in her stomach.

  There were four more men inside. None wore masks. All looked like average, run of the mill working guys. The two who’d escorted them here at gun-point removed their masks.

  Bad sign.

  Any time the enemy didn’t care if you saw their faces was bad.

  It meant they weren’t worried about their hostages giving away their descriptions or identities.

  The hostages were going to be in no position to give away anything.

  They would be dead.

  Damn.

  Von scanned the faces. Lane’s wasn’t among the group. Three were thirtysomethings, late twenties maybe, and appeared physically fit. The fourth was older and heavier with a bit of a bulge hanging over his belt.

  “Put ’em in three for now,” the guy with the bulge ordered.

  None of the doors on the back side of the structure were visibly numbered. One of the men who’d brought them here hustled them toward the third door from the left. Von tried to get a closer look at the layout of the larger room, a command center obviously. A couple of computers. Her escort pushed her forward.

  “Did you ensure they weren’t armed?” the bulge guy asked.

  Well damn. Then again, they’d been lucky to get this far without the subject coming up.

  The surprise on their escort’s face gave the answer to the man who’d asked. “Why would they be armed?”

  Give the guy a “stupid criminal” award. Lane might have been suspicious but this guy clearly had swallowed the bait, hook, line and sinker.

  “Do it,” his chubby pal ordered. “Now.” As if to reiterate his words, he strode up to Trinity and patted him down.

  The dummy they’d come to this dance with, did the same to her.

  The older guy shook his head as he stared at Trinity’s .32. “Mr. Lane is not going to be happy about this.”

  “Self-protection,” Trinity said pointedly. “I don’t go anywhere without it. Any man who does is a fool.”

  Their gazes held a moment longer, but the older guy didn’t say anything in response.

  Once they were shoved into room three, the door was slammed shut and they were left to wait for the next move. Unarmed and with a dead com link. Trinity had discreetly tapped his link several times with no response. Something was wrong with the link.

  But they still had the hidden tracking devices in the briefcase.

  Von wanted to rail about the deal going back to Trinity but he held a finger to his lips. He was right. The room could be and probably was bugged.

  There was no furniture in the room. Not a single chair or a table. Only a plastic box filled with toys. She walked over and picked up a fuzzy bear. This was a holding facility, all right.

  Lane hadn’t just been suspicious, he had known. He wouldn’t have brought a customer to a holding facility. He had known they were undercover operatives of some sort before he’d made the call tonight.

  Now he would want to know who had hired them and what exactly they knew.

  The money was irrelevant.

  It was insured and marked for tracking purposes. Unless it was skillfully laundered first, anyone who tried to use it would be caught.

  Von hoped she got to witness that part.

  The door opened.

  She and Trinity turned to face whatever came next.

  A man rolled a utility cart into the room.

  A second man carried two folding chairs. He placed them in the center of the room. “Sit,” he ordered.

  “Where is Lane?” Trinity demanded, keeping with his cover. “We had a deal.”

  “We won’t need him for this,” the man with the cart explained. He gestured to the chairs. “Have a seat.”

  “This has gone far enough,” Trinity protested. “I demand that you take my wife and I back to our car. You clearly do not understand who you’re dealing with.”

  “You’re right,” the one at the cart said as he picked up a roll of duct tape. “That’s what we’re going to find out.”

  “What’s he talking about, Myles?” Von asked, feigning fear, which wasn’t that difficult.

  “It’s all right.” Trinity hugged her. “We’ll get through this.”

  “Sit,” the man who’d delivered the chairs roared yet again.

  Trinity waited until Von had taken her seat and then settled into his. Their hands were taped behind them. Their ankles were bound and then a strip of tape was placed over their mouths.

  How creative.

  The men left the room.

  If there was anything else on the cart besides duct tape and what looked like a rope, she couldn’t see it. Maybe the whole thing had been a scare tactic designed to get them primed for talking.

  Von had already spotted two cameras. They were being watched. Any attempts they made to free them selves would be futile.

  There was one thing she could do. Maybe their captors would even expect her to do it.

  She bounced up and down in her chair, scooting it closer to Trinity. When she’d gotten close enough she placed her head on his shoulder and blinked rapidly as if holding back tears.

  He smelled good. The same sexy scent he’d always worn. It reminded her of other scents and sensations. Like salty sea air and the spray of the ocean’s wild, crashing waves. If she closed her eyes she could conjure up the feel of sand between her toes…and the wind on her face. They’d taken their honeymoon in the Bahamas. Warm, beautiful…the most amazing week of her life.

  Too bad it hadn’t lasted.

  The door suddenly opened and two men entered once more.

  Lane was one of them.

  Von felt the tension in Trinity’s posture.

  Lane turned to his colleague. “Bring the woman first.” He glanced at Von before walking out.

  Trinity struggled with his bindings as the man approached her.

  The man manacled her arm and jerked her to her feet. “Let’s see how long it takes you to talk.”

  Since she couldn’t exactly walk with her ankles taped together he pitched her over his shoulder and started for the door.

  Trinity broke the folding chair getting out of it, but then fell face-first onto the floor.

  There was nothing he could do.

  The door slammed shut, cutting him off from her view.

  The bastard carrying her hefted her into another chair, this one in the main space of the building.

  Lane stared at her for a long moment, then said, “Start with the toes. If she doesn’t talk, move to the fingers. I want to know exactly who they are.”

  Von had two options. She could just tell the truth, spill the beans, ri
ght up front and die quickly. Or she could attempt to hold out, maybe come up with something that would keep both her and Trinity alive.

  The tape was ripped from her lips. She winced.

  “Do you want to talk now?” the man in charge of her interrogation asked. “Or.” He cut loose the tape around her ankles. “Lose a little toe?”

  “We have money,” she offered with all the uncertainty and fear she could muster. “A lot more than what’s in the briefcase.” That should give them something to think about.

  The guy braced a hand on each arm of the chair and leaned in, putting his face close to hers. “You trying to buy time, lady?”

  “Just trying to save us both some time,” Von explained. “My husband and I are in a time crunch of our own. We need that little girl.”

  The bastard trailed a finger down her cheek.

  She drew away from his touch.

  “How much money?” he asked as he traced that same finger down her throat.

  She resisted the urge to kick him in the crotch. He was in the perfect position. And he had cut the tape on her ankles. But she would play it this way for a bit and see what happened.

  “Maybe three times that much at my husband’s office in a safe. Even more in the bank.” If she was going to lie, she might as well make it good. Not only did she not have a safe in her little apartment, she also felt reasonably certain Trinity didn’t, either. Not unless his rich uncle had died since they divorced.

  Then again, she was relatively certain he didn’t have a rich uncle.

  “Let’s see what the boss has to say about that.” The man straightened away from her. “Lane!”

  Lane looked up from his cell phone conversation and held up a hand indicating he needed a moment or two.

  While they waited, Von surveyed the movements of the others on site. She had counted four men besides their two escorts when they’d arrived. Six, altogether. Lane made seven. All were accounted for except two as far as she could see. She stretched her neck and considered the four doors across the back of the building. Number three from the left was where Trinity was. That left three other rooms. Were there prisoners in those rooms? Abducted children? Maybe Lily Larkin?

  Wait…if there were cameras in the room where she and Trinity were held, surely there were monitors out here somewhere. Maybe she could get a glimpse of who or what was in the other three rooms.