Ryan let out a low whistle. “Rookie move. Now all they have to do is Google him to see if she’s lying. A made-up name would have bought slightly more time than a real one.”
“Yep, she put them under pressure.”
“Listen up.” Lake Benson, the original owner of the company, raised his voice to cut through the chatter, and all eyes turned to him. “The clock is ticking here. The ransom is supposed to be transferred to the kidnappers’ account by midday. Seeing as it’s past three now, that doesn’t give us much time to find them. The Collinses are insistent on paying the ransom by the deadline. Delaying payment would have bought us more time. As it is, we have nine hours to get to them.”
As an ex-SAS soldier, Lake was experienced with these situations. The man was still lean and muscled well into his forties, and there was barely any grey in his blonde hair. He stood at the end of their makeshift war area, with two of his partners, Callum McKay and Rachel Ford-Talbot, flanking him. The fourth partner, Harry, was a silent partner. Ryan had never actually met the guy. As far as he knew, he had very little to do with the business.
“Elle,” Lake said. “What can you tell us?”
Elle’s fingers stilled over the keys as she looked up at her team. “I’m not sure yet, but I think I may have narrowed down the search area—and it isn’t good news. It looks like they’re being held in the middle of the Peruvian jungle. As far as I can tell, they’re nowhere near a road, or a town.”
Callum did that rumbling thing he liked to do when stuck in an enclosed space with other human beings. “Harvard, what are the chances your man will try to escape with Belinda?”
“Pretty damn high.” Harvard ran a hand over his bald head, sounding as grim as everyone else felt. “I don’t see him sitting around waiting for the ransom to be paid. Even if we had the money to pay it. Beast might have squirrelled some cash away, but it sure as hell isn’t anywhere close to the ten million they’re asking.”
Callum let out a huff. “Tell me your guy has experience in the jungle.”
“Wish I could. He’s city, all the way. There’s no better man to have at your back, but he doesn’t have any experience with this terrain. Don’t underestimate him, though. He’s a mean son of a bitch. When he isn’t touring the MMA circuit, he works as a bodyguard. He knows how to fight, and he’s street smart.”
“They aren’t in the street,” Callum said.
The rest of the team fell silent for a minute.
“What about Belinda?” Lake turned to Belinda’s brother, Daniel. “Has she got any experience in the jungle, any survival or outdoor skills?”
Daniel had paled to the point of being unrecognisable as his action-hero persona. “She made a movie once where she lived in a cabin in the Canadian wilderness.”
“That’s a no, then,” Lake said.
“They are so stuffed,” Ryan whispered to Elle, who nodded.
“Looks like we have to get to them before they start hiking out of there,” Lake said. “Elle, can you narrow the search area down further?”
“Working on it.” Elle’s eyes didn’t leave her screen. “The satellite phone signal is easier to trace than I expected it to be. They obviously didn’t expect anyone to follow the call back to them,”
“Any word on the missing driver?” Lake said.
“He’s involved,” Elle whispered to Ryan, bringing him up to speed. “Witnesses saw him disable Beast and shove him in the car. Then the coward made a run for it.”
Ryan was furious. It was people like that who gave their whole business a bad name.
“Aye, I’ve heard something,” Callum growled in his thick Scottish brogue. “I got a text from Violet. I sent her and Noah to the airport, and they hit the jackpot. They found the bastard trying to make a run for it.” Callum’s eyes narrowed and he got that look his team liked to call Killer-Callum. It meant someone was about to get hurt. “They’re on their way back with him. Give me five minutes alone with the guy and I’ll get the information we need.”
Lake nodded and turned to Dimitri, yet another American on their London team. Ryan was beginning to feel outnumbered. “Belinda’s bodyguards?”
Dimitri shook his head. His wife and partner, Megan, stood beside him. The blonde Scot looked more like a Barbie wannabe than a security specialist, but Ryan knew exactly how deadly she could be—sometimes totally by accident. Megan had recently finished her trainee period and was now considered a full member of the team—something that made everyone nervous.
“Let me answer this one, babe,” she said. “The guys are morons. They’re drunk. They didn’t even see their charge leave the room. But they could rate the racks of every woman present. I’m an eight.” She frowned at Dimitri. “Told you they were bloody idiots. My boobs are a solid ten.”
“At least,” Dimitri said, making Megan beam at him before she turned back to Lake.
“They insist they had nothing to do with the kidnapping,” she said.
“Yeah, right,” Rachel said with a snort, her eyes on her phone rather than on the group.
“I’m with Rachel—” Harvard started.
“You wish,” Rachel muttered.
He grinned in her direction. “They’ve worked as a team for years. Seems suspicious that the night their driver decides to sell out their charge, they’re otherwise occupied.”
“They’re always like that,” Daniel said. “That’s why Julia wanted her to fire them and take on a Benson Security team instead.”
The kid’s face was ashen and his hands trembled. Ryan gave him credit for the fact he was still standing, but he was totally out of his depth.
“He doesn’t need to be here for this,” Ryan whispered to Elle.
“He’s the family representative. His mother was hysterical and his dad took her up to their room. They left him behind to keep them informed.”
Ryan’s eyes were drawn to movement behind the bar. The shadows seemed to solidify, and Grunt appeared. The man mountain was Joe’s best friend, best man at his wedding and the most taciturn guy Ryan had ever met. Grunt worked out of the Scottish office with Lake and was married to Megan’s twin sister, Claire. Claire didn’t have anything to do with security work. As far as Ryan could tell, her main function was to soothe her husband and make sure he didn’t go on a rampage.
Sure enough, as Grunt stalked further into the room, a small blonde trailed in his wake. She was heavily pregnant with baby number three, the first two being twins, and was eating her way through a plate piled high with sandwiches. Ryan’s stomach grumbled, and he checked his watch. It had been over an hour since he’d last had a snack.
“I’m calling Joe,” Grunt said.
“Not a good idea,” Lake said. “Wait until we have more information.”
“I think Julia should know about her sister,” Claire said around a mouthful of food. “She’ll be upset if she finds out her sister was in danger while they were on honeymoon. I know I would have been if Megan had been kidnapped during my honeymoon.”
“We wait,” Lake said, in that tone that brooked no argument. “We need more information first.”
“They’re out of contact right now anyway.” Rachel held her ever-present iPhone in front of her as her red talons tapped at the screen. “Their flight to Brazil is in the air. They won’t land for another four hours.”
“Then you have four hours before I tell Joe,” Grunt said.
Everyone in the room, bar Harvard, looked at Grunt. The man was huge and built like the Hulk on steroids. He rarely spoke, and when he did, he generally could not be moved. Ryan noticed that even Callum and Lake were leery of arguing with him. There was an uncomfortable silence.
Megan let out an exasperated sigh. “Claire, you want to deal with this?”
Claire looked up at her husband with suspiciously convenient tear-filled eyes. “Baby, this is upsetting me. And the baby. I agree we should tell Joe, but a few more hours won’t hurt. Will it? Can’t we wait until the team knows more? For me?” She
pouted as she rubbed a hand over her swollen belly.
Ryan felt his jaw drop. There was no way Grunt would fall for that act. She wasn’t even trying to be believable. He watched in awe as Grunt wrapped an arm around his wife and pulled her into his side. “Don’t cry, baby. I hate it when you cry.”
“What the hell?” Ryan whispered to Elle.
“Love is a mysterious thing,” Elle whispered back before she grinned.
Grunt grunted. “Ransom time,” he told Lake. “You have until midday.”
“Thank you.” Claire pressed a kiss to his chest while she gave her sister a thumbs-up.
Everyone else looked on with bewilderment.
“Elle,” Lake said, “you keep working, narrow down a search grid. Dimitri and Megan, arrange transport. If we’re going into the rainforest to get them, we’ll need a helicopter, a boat, and a guide we can trust.”
“That’s asking a lot,” Dimitri said. “We don’t know who’s taken them, and we don’t know who to trust.”
Elle’s fingers stilled on her keyboard. “We do know someone we can trust. Someone who knows Peru inside out.”
Ryan groaned. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who she meant. David was one of Lake’s shady contacts. He had skills that very few men on the planet had, which meant some government somewhere had put a whole lot of time into training him. The thing was, they didn’t know for sure which government he worked for, although Elle had been obsessed with finding out ever since they’d met in Peru.
“I’ll call him,” Lake said. “See if he’s close enough to help out.”
Elle actually blushed as she went back to tapping her keyboard. Women? Who knew what they were thinking? Ryan’s thoughts turned to the one in his bed. Maybe she’d be there when he got back and they could pick up where they’d left off. Yeah, that would be perfect. He shifted in his chair and hoped no one would notice that his mind wasn’t on the operation.
“Ryan, Harvard,” Lake said. “We need weapons, comm equipment and jungle gear. I don’t know how long we’ll be in that terrain. You also need to assemble supplies for Belinda and Beast.”
Ryan nodded. They had contacts in Peru who could help them out. They’d made sure to establish them after their last mission in the country had gone balls up.
“Rachel,” Lake said. “You run interference with the authorities, act as project coordinator, seeing as Julia’s on honeymoon.”
“Seriously? Rachel?” Callum was outraged.
“Like you’re more tactful,” Rachel scoffed.
“I don’t offend everyone I talk to,” Callum snapped.
“No, you punch them.”
“Mummy and Daddy are fighting again,” Ryan whispered to Elle, who smothered a laugh.
Callum opened his mouth to argue, but was distracted when the ballroom doors crashed open. A man flew through them. He landed in a groaning heap on the floor. Two seconds later, one of their newest team members strode in after him. Violet Lee, a miniature Scot with Chinese ancestry, stood over the man. Her hands were on her hips and there was a look of disgust on her face. When she realised everyone was staring at her, she cocked an eyebrow.
“What happened?” Callum barked.
“Nothing to worry about,” Violet said. “The driver and I had a little talk on the way here. He was reluctant to tell me what he knew. I helped him to get over it.”
“Damn it,” Callum shouted. “I wanted to hit him.”
“You snooze, you lose,” Violet said.
It had become clear about ten seconds after Rachel had hired the woman that Violet showed no fear of anyone on the team. Ryan wondered if she’d been introduced to Grunt yet. Now that was a meeting he’d like to witness.
Noah, another of Joe’s childhood friends—and an Atlantic City cop—rushed into the room, looking harried and slightly shell-shocked. He glanced at the driver on the floor, then looked over at Callum. “If I take the job with Benson Security, I want your word that you will never partner me with her again. You hear me? If you do, I’ll quit and move the family back to the States.”
“Drama queen.” Violet strode towards the rest of the team, stepping on the driver’s hand as she passed him. She didn’t even look back as he wailed and curled into a ball.
Elle leaned in to Ryan and whispered, “You know what they say about her in Glasgow?”
“No.” Ryan kept his eyes on Violet, just in case the woman decided to take out her gun and massacre the lot of them.
“Before she was kicked off the police force, there were incidents where suspects under her care were mysteriously hurt. If one of them disappeared, never to be found, the rumour was that they’d died Violent-Lee. Violently. Get it?”
“Yeah, Elle, I got it.” Violet scared the crap out of him. He could totally understand why Noah looked like he needed some up close and personal contact with a bottle of whisky.
Violet came to a halt beside Callum. “I know who the kidnappers are.”
“Who?” Callum snapped.
“The Martinez family.”
The tension went up a notch. The fledgling cartel was fast gaining a reputation for their kidnapping for ransom efforts and their willingness to run drugs where others feared to tread.
“But”—Violet reached into her pocket, pulled out a wet wipe and calmly proceeded to clean the blood from her hands—“it wasn’t the gang’s idea to snatch the actress. Someone hired them.” She cocked a thumb behind her. “Tiny dick over there doesn’t know who. He just took the money they offered him and tried to run.” She reached into another pocket and tossed a piece of paper onto the table in front of Elle. “That’s his bank account number. Maybe you can trace the money back to the source.” She turned to glare at the driver. “Now what do you want to do about him?”
“Don’t let her near me,” the driver begged. “Please, somebody, keep her away from me.”
The smile that crept over Violet’s face was chilling.
“We’ll secure him for the cops,” Lake said. “No more damage unless it’s necessary.” Violet opened her mouth, but Lake held up a hand. “Unless I deem it necessary.”
She frowned, clearly in disagreement with that edict.
After another terse command to reconvene half an hour before dawn, Lake dismissed the team to their tasks. Ryan wondered if Harvard would give him a minute to run to his room and see if his girl was still there before they went about assembling the team’s gear. One look at the big man’s stony face told him no. Guess he’d have to be happy with chasing her down when this was over. He was due a proper vacation. Maybe he’d take some time and hang around after everyone else had gone home. Yeah, he liked that idea a lot. For some reason, he knew it would take a lot more than one night to get Esperanza out of his system.
Chapter 7
The kidnappers’ toilet turned out to be a ratty wooden cubicle built over a hole in the ground. Belinda thought it was taking the whole experience a step too far. Would the kidnapping have felt less authentic if they had a proper toilet? She didn’t think so.
Someone had strung some storm lamps throughout the camp, and the dull yellow glow gave barely enough light inside the toilet hut. She looked in the hole. Eyes shone out at her. Oh no. Just no. There was no way she was baring her backside to whatever was down there. She would just hold it until the rescue, because seriously, how long would it take? They already knew where she was being held.
After a suitable amount of time had passed to make him think she’d used the facilities, Belinda called for the guard. With a bored jerk of his head, he motioned for her to follow him back across the compound to her cell. She desperately wanted to question him about his role in the fake kidnapping, but she knew she couldn’t break character. She’d done that enough already, and it was clear it wasn’t allowed.
The setup of the camp was impressive. If she didn’t know it was fake, she would have totally believed it. In fact, it was so authentic that a niggling thought started jabbing at her brain, telling her it was re
al. Could John be right? Had they really been kidnapped?
Walking across the uneven ground was tough in her party shoes. Her four-inch heels weren’t designed for traversing the outdoors. Actually, she was pretty sure they weren’t designed for anything other than standing still and looking pretty. Each step was agony, and she worried she’d roll her ankle and John would have to carry her back to the resort. Not John, Beast. She rolled her eyes. It was the kind of nickname a kid picked for himself, not a full-grown man. But whatever, she’d play along. It was what she did best.
Belinda slowed her walk to give her time to see as much as possible. There were five shack-like cabins dotted around the clearing. The voices of several men could be heard coming from the largest one. A radio blared and people laughed. It was another clear sign that this was all fake, because surely if it were real they wouldn’t be hanging around partying.
The camp was surrounded by the dense foliage of the Amazon rainforest. The faint light didn’t let her see much beyond the huts, but she could still make out a wall of trees and plants. Nothing else. Just trees and plants. There was no sound of rushing water, which meant they were nowhere near one of the many rivers running through the rainforest. Instead, she noticed a dirt track behind the main cabin. The path to a boat? She wasn’t sure.
“I speak English,” the man beside her announced.
“That’s nice.” Belinda smiled at him. No point in being moody with the cast.
The guard smiled, revealing stained and crooked teeth. As far as Belinda was concerned, that was taking a role a step too far. “After we get the money, I’m going to rip that dress off your body, force you to your knees and shove my dick down your throat. You’ll like that, no? You actresses are all the same. Whores. Expensive whores. But instead of paying you, I’m the one that will get paid for using you. Are you worth ten million dollars?”
Belinda’s stomach surged and she fought the urge to vomit. It was so real. The look on his face, the malice behind his words, the sweat-stained clothes and rotten teeth. Had she been wrong? Was this real? Or was he saying these things to make her think it was real? Sweat trickled down her spine and her hands began to shake. A door to one of the huts crashed open and a man staggered out. Drunk. He was fastening his pants. Behind him, a topless woman, wearing a ripped skirt, sobbed as she watched him leave. Her eye was black and there were bruises on her breast. The world shifted beneath Belinda’s feet.
Ransom (Benson Security Book 4) Page 4