Liz threw back the covers and swung her legs off the bed. Then stopped. Her heart pounded. She closed her eyes. She wanted so badly to go to Ben’s room. Would he think her a coward for being afraid? Liz remembered Sheila. Maybe Ben had invited her into his bed. She strained her ears for sounds in the next room, but heard nothing. That didn’t mean anything.
He’d spent the day making sure she stayed safe. He didn’t need her keeping him awake. Liz laid back and pulled the covers to her neck. She left the light on and eventually drifted into troubled dreams full of exquisitely designed dresses stained with the blood of a faceless man.
Chapter Twenty-One
Ben felt as if he’d only just dropped off to sleep when his phone pinged an incoming email. He turned on the lamp, grabbed the phone off the nightstand, and pressed the email button. A message from Larissa Remmey appeared on the screen.
Mr. Hunter, we received another message from Mr. Sanchez. As you know, the FBI is monitoring our calls in hopes of finding clues to Christina’s whereabouts, so I thought it best that I email you this information. The following is his message.
Francis, I am deeply disappointed that you have not found the information I need. Perhaps the video I attached will motivate you to find the answers now.
Ben’s heart jumped to a thunderous beat as he tapped the screen to view the attachment. The video loaded and he stared, chest tight, fingers gripping the phone so hard his knuckles blanched. Stucco walls, yellowed with time and filth, provided the only backdrop to the activity taking place on a dingy-sheeted bed. A man gripped a young woman’s wrists above her head while he rammed into her.
The girl’s eyes, scrunched closed, suggested an effort to distance herself from the ordeal. The sound was off—a blessing Ben was thankful for—but the picture was crystal clear. The girl’s hair, once a rich brown, was now matted with dirt. Tracks on her arms told of heroine injections used by brothel masters to subdue and control the girls. This girl wasn’t Christina, and Ben couldn’t deny the relief and guilt that rolled over him. No one had saved the young woman in this video.
A single sentence had been superimposed at the bottom of the screen.
You will never find her.
Despite the hour, Ben didn’t hesitate. He dialed Medina’s number. The captain, wide awake, answered on the second ring, and Ben told him about the email.
Ben ended with, “How soon before the female cops are ready to enter Remmey’s associate’s trucks?”
“I’ve got six female officers assigned to the sting operation. We should be good to go tomorrow morning.”
“Maybe you should call Remmey tonight,” Ben said. “Let them give Sanchez the good news.”
“Slow down, Hunter. They aren’t supposed to call him until tomorrow morning.”
“Captain, they won’t be sleeping tonight. They need to know there’s a light at the end of the tunnel.”
“There’s no guarantee this will help locate their granddaughter,” Medina said in a quiet voice.
“They need hope,” Ben said.
A moment of silence passed, then Medina said, “All right. I’ll give them a call. “
“Thanks,” Ben said, and hung up.
* * *
Liz jerked awake, aware she’d heard a sound. Her heart pounded as she blinked the room into focus. The sound, she realized, came from Ben’s room. He was talking on the phone. She glanced at the clock. The red LED lights read 3:34. She couldn’t discern his words, but a call at this hour couldn’t be good. The call lasted another four minutes, then Ben went quiet.
Liz rolled over, but didn’t bother closing her eyes. After twenty minutes, she got dressed, crossed to the door, opened it, and peered down the empty hallway. She slipped from the room and hurried to Ben’s door. She gave three soft taps. The door opened two seconds later. Ben stood in the doorway and Liz took a startled step backward at coming face-to-face with the broad expanse of his tanned chest.
“Liz, what’s wrong?”
His deep voice jarred her from the trance, but before her head cleared, Ben grasped her arm and pulled her into his room. She caught sight of the revolver he gripped, hidden behind the door. He stepped into the doorway and Liz’s gaze snagged on the firm curves of his jean-covered butt. She shifted her gaze to the chiseled flesh of his back and her heart skipped a beat. Ben glanced both ways down the hall, then backed into the room. She stepped out of the way as he closed the door. He turned and demanded, “What’s wrong?”
Liz shook her head, unable to find her voice.
His brow furrowed. “You all right?”
She nodded. “I—What are you doing with that?” She pointed at the gun.
“Just a precaution.” He went to the nightstand and pulled open the drawer.
“I don’t remember you having a gun,” Liz said as he placed the weapon in the drawer and slid it shut.
“I put it on before the meeting with the FBI.”
“Put it on?”
He faced her. “Ankle holster.”
“Oh.”
“What’s wrong?” he demanded. “Why aren’t you asleep?”
“Why aren’t you sleeping?” she asked.
“I asked first.”
“I heard you talking on the phone.”
He frowned. “I would think a fancy place like this would have thicker walls.”
“Blame the building code. Who are you talking to at three-thirty in the morning?”
“Business.”
“Mr. Sanchez business?”
“Did anyone ever tell you you’re nosey?”
Liz wanted to laugh, but sadness tinged the impulse. When a man told a woman she was nosy, the romance was definitely over. Better this way, she told herself. Ben had romanticized a relationship with her.
“You’re avoiding the question,” she said. “A call at three-thirty in the morning isn’t good.”
“Sometimes that’s when the best news comes in.”
“Ben, what’s going on?”
He walked around the bed, leaned his butt against the footboard and crossed his arms over his chest. Liz couldn’t tear her eyes from the sight. She recalled again those arms around her when he’d pulled her from the car, the insistent passion when he’d kissed her--
“I think you like me.”
“What?” she said.
A speculative light glinted in his eyes. “You’ve come for a little comforting.”
Another minute and I'll have to touch you, he’d said. An urge to cry rushed to the surface. What was wrong with her?
“Liz.” Ben straightened from the bed and started toward her. She took a startled step back. He caught her arm. “Don’t cry, honey.”
Cry? Liz drew a stuttered breath and realized that tears were trickling down her cheeks. He tugged her against him and her cheek met the warm flesh of his chest. Her head whirled with the sensation of muscle flexing as his arms tightened around her.
“I shouldn’t tease you so much,” he said.
His voice washed over her like a smooth whisky down her throat.
“It’ll be all right,” he soothed.
Memory of the bloody dream returned. It wasn’t going to be all right. “Mr. Sanchez won’t hesitate to shoot you in broad daylight.”
Ben drew a deep breath and she sniffled as he released the breath.
“I can’t risk him coming back for you, and I can’t leave that girl in his hands.”
Her heart constricted. “It’s just such a mess. I’m so sorry.”
He leaned back and looked down at her. “You have nothing to be sorry for. This became a mess the day Sanchez kidnapped the first woman. Remember, I was chasing him before you came along.”
“Before I came along and messed things up, you mean.”
Ben stared down at her for a long moment and she became aware of her legs pressing his thighs.
He offered a gentle smile. “This is what I do, Liz. That’s never going to change.”
The urge to cry resurfaced
. His hands slid from her waist to her arms as he took a step back, and Liz had the impression that he, too, was close to the edge.
A light knock on the door caused Liz to jump. Ben tensed, but to Liz’s surprise, he didn’t seem worried.
“Don’t move,” he whispered, then crossed to the door. He opened it and Liz glimpsed Sheila Antonio in the hall.
Sheila’s eyes lowered to Ben’s chest, then slid up to his face. “I thought you might like some company.”
“Sheila,” he began, but her gaze cut past him to Liz.
She looked back at Ben. “Business, huh?”
“That’s right,” he said, and closed the door in her face.
He whirled and reached Liz in three paces.
“What did she mean by that?” Liz demanded.
A cloud passed over his face. “It means you and I are in this together and have to work together. Let her think that.” He passed her and flipped back the bedcovers. “You’ve had a rough twenty-four hours. You need a good night’s sleep.”
She realized with startling hurt, that he wanted to get rid of her before she cramped his style. Liz nodded. “Yes.” She started toward the door, but his grasp on her arm stopped her. She gave him an inquiring look.
“A good night’s sleep means in that bed.” He stabbed a finger toward his bed.
* * *
Liz stared out the window of the truck. Morning sun burned off gray clouds as Ben pulled into the driveway of his father’s ranch.
“I know you don’t want to stay at the ranch, but it’s only for the day,” he said. “I can’t leave you alone, and headquarters—or any other law enforcement agency’s office—is out of the question. We have to assume that Sanchez has men watching all law enforcement offices, and we can’t know who his contacts are. When I get back this evening, we’ll move to a hotel for the night.”
A tremor rippled through her stomach at the thought of being alone with Ben in a hotel room. Last night—after he’d turned away Sheila Antonio—he’d herded her into his bed, then pulled the covers up over her breasts and tucked them around her. When he pressed warm lips to her forehead, she grasped his neck and pulled his mouth down to hers. Liz had felt the shudder in his body and she’d come close to begging him to crawl into bed with her. But he turned out the light and his warm hand had covered hers before she passed into sleep.
He’d woken her with a gentle squeeze to her shoulder, and tucked her under his arm in their walk back to her room. She couldn’t see his face in the early morning shadows, but he lingered long enough to brush his lips against hers and she knew it had been as hard for him to leave as it was for her to let him go. Letting him go today was even harder.
She was sure that his sudden decision to leave her at the ranch had something to do with the phone call last night. If Mr. Sanchez had discovered Ben’s identity, Ben wouldn’t return to his father’s ranch. Liz envisioned her two abductors running into R.W. and Hal. She’d like to see that. Those boys would catch them and—a thought struck.
“Ben, what would happen if Mr. Sanchez’s men thought I was here at the ranch?”
He shook his head. “Nothing. They would discover you’re not here and leave.”
Excitement streaked through her. “That’s the answer. If he finds out who you are and sends someone to look for me, you can follow the man back to Mr. Sanchez.”
Ben glanced at her. “Liz, crossing the border is the hard part for Sanchez’s men. It’s more likely the hit man would simply call and tell him we’re not at the ranch.”
Liz started to reply, then slumped.
He offered a gentle smile. “I’m delivering you to Las Cruces tomorrow, then I’m going to Mexico. End of story.”
She wanted to argue so bad it hurt, but he wasn’t about to abandon the Remmeys’ granddaughter and she wasn’t going to ask him to. But that didn’t stop the terror that he might not return. She barely knew the man, yet couldn’t imagine him disappearing from the world—and her life—so soon. How did the women who married these men live with this fear every day?
* * *
Ben knew Liz was worried, but he sensed her hurt too. He was torn between taking her in his arms and assuring her he would return this afternoon, and wondering if she would forgive him for abandoning her at the ranch. Hal and R.W. entered the family room, quashing the idea of kissing her.
“It’s only for the day, Liz. You understand?” Dammit, he felt like a fifteen-year-old schoolboy hoping his first love wouldn’t think him a complete idiot.
R.W. reached the sofa and stopped. “You make it sound like you might not come back.”
Liz’s eyes widened in fear.
“It’s only a meeting, Liz,” Ben quickly said, then scowled at R.W. “R.W., you make any trouble while I’m gone and I’ll arrest you and leave you in lockup for the week.”
“I’ll keep him in line,” Hal said. “And you can count on us to watch over Liz.”
“If you have a computer where I can get online, I’ll stay out of your way.”
“You’re not in our way, darlin’,” R.W. said.
She gave him a dry look. “Then let’s just say that’ll keep you out of my way.”
Hal laughed. “She’s too smart for you, R.W.”
“Yeah,” he said. “That’s why I never got married. They’re all too smart for me.”
“There’s no arguing with that,” Ben said. He squeezed Liz’s shoulder. “You have my cell phone number. If you need anything, call.”
She nodded and he forced himself to walk from the room and straight to his truck. Leaving Liz was one of the hardest things he had ever done in his life. Hal and R.W. would protect her with their lives, but Ben wasn’t going to forget the fear in her eyes. Only it wasn’t fear for herself, but for him. The woman was tying him up in all kinds of knots.
Ben arrived at the same safe house where he and Liz had met with Braxton and Masters the night before. He recognized Medina’s Dodge Ram truck parked in the driveway. Ben parked behind the captain, then went to the door and knocked. A moment later, Braxton let him inside.
Medina and Masters occupied opposite chairs at the kitchen table. “Sit down.” Medina motioned Ben to the chair opposite him.
Ben obeyed, and Braxton sat in the last vacant chair.
“First,” Medina said, “as an FYI, we’re set up for what Sanchez will believe is the first shipment of kidnapped women across the border.”
“What’s the chance this will lead us to Sanchez?” Ben asked.
Medina shrugged. “Not great. Mostly, we’ll get a look at the local operation. We’ll follow the truck through its locator. Then the Juarez Chief of Police will get lucky and find the women when they reach their destination.”
“You think Sanchez won’t take it out on that little girl when his shipment gets confiscated??” Masters said.
“Loyola plans to make it clear that he was on the lookout for human shipments,” Medina said.
Masters snorted. “All you’re doing is pissing him off.”
“Then he’ll make a mistake,” Medina said, and turned his attention to Ben. “The El Paso Police Department sent word to Juarez D.A. Bryan Gomez that you and Ms. Monahan have agreed to cooperate with the warrants for your arrests. We’ve leaked news that Ms. Monahan has dyed and cut her hair. That gives Sanchez’s men the idea that she looks different than any pictures they have.”
Ben nodded. “They’ll actually be looking for differences.”
“If we’re lucky,” Medina said. “We’ll give them one hole in our dragnet where they can best take a shot at you, then a second, less obvious hole. We’ll have both places staked out. When Sanchez’s guy takes his shot, we’ll stick to him and hope he lands in Sanchez’s lap.”
“What about the Remmeys’ granddaughter?”
“You may have just gotten her killed—or worse,” Masters said.
Ben ignored the agent and said to the captain, “I’m wondering if a direct trade isn’t a better idea.”
Masters straightened. “You’re not in charge of this operation. The only reason you’re here is because we can’t find another agent pretty enough to play your part.”
Ben shifted his gaze onto Masters. “Push it, Masters, and this pretty boy will make the run-in we had last night look like a tea party.”
Masters’ eyes narrowed. “Don’t you threaten—”
“That’s enough, Will,” Braxton cut in, along with Medina’s “Hunter, you’re out of line.” Medina took a breath. “We considered an exchange,” the captain said, “but we don’t think Sanchez will show up personally. We all want to save the Remmeys’ granddaughter, along with every other man and woman he’s kidnapped, including the ones he’ll kidnap tomorrow and the next day if we don’t get him. Not to mention, as long as Sanchez runs free, Ms. Monahan won’t have a real life.”
“There’s no guarantee Sanchez gets close enough to his hit man to give us any idea where he is,” Ben said.
“That’s why we have a backup plan,” the captain said. “If Sanchez’s guy doesn’t lead us to him, then we leak the news that you’re not dead.”
Ben thought for a minute. “You mean, put me in a hospital and let someone come for me there.”
“Yep.”
“Isn’t that too convenient?” Ben asked. “He’s got to figure it’s a trap.”
“Maybe,” the chief agreed, “but Sanchez wants you pretty bad. Maybe even bad enough to take chances. Loyola is in on the deal. As chief of police he can have his men nearby to keep things looking real.”
Ben nodded. “I’ll be ready to go late tomorrow morning.”
“Tomorrow morning?” Masters said. “Medina, you agreed that Hunter would leave with us now, and we place Ms. Monahan into protective custody.”
“What?” Ben jerked his gaze onto the captain. “Sir, you know—”
“We can’t risk a leak,” Masters said.
“You’re not getting anywhere near her,” Ben snarled.
“You boys demanded those terms,” Medina said. “We never agreed. Hunter will be here tomorrow morning at ten a.m..” The captain rose and everyone followed suit.
Abducted: Reconnaissance Team (Texas Rangers: Special Ops Book 1) Page 16