“How can it possibly cost that much?” Joe Ranger asked. “We’re using our own sperm and eggs. It’s not like we’re buying your inventory.”
Laura blinked in surprise.
Amber knew clients were often unprepared for the fees, but their response was usually less accusatory.
“Mr. Ranger, I assure you that we never consider the precious life-creating eggs and sperm entrusted to us as ‘inventory.’ And using Mrs. Ranger’s eggs does require the egg retrieval procedure. All services considered, our fees are in line with industry standards across the country. As we never want financial restrictions to prevent people from realizing their dreams of a child, we offer numerous flexible payment plans.”
“How about discounts?” he pressed. His wife turned bright red.
“Discounts for what?”
“We’re young, healthy specimens. Shouldn’t take as much work.”
“I’ve never heard of any discounts being offered. But as I explained, you only pay for the services necessary for your particular situation. Some services you may not need. For example, if the first viable embryo transplant is successful, you’ll only be charged for one.”
He grunted his displeasure. “How much do you make on each deal?”
“Not enough to stay in business, Mr. Ranger. If we didn’t receive grants from various charitable foundations, we wouldn’t be able to cover our expenses. The doctors who own this company also have their own separate medical practices. They view this agency more as a humanitarian venture than a for-profit business.”
“Yeah, right. I bet they all drive Mercedes.”
Mrs. Ranger looked like she wanted to fall through the floor.
Amber admired Laura’s restraint. She would’ve told the guy to take a hike five minutes ago.
Her boss glanced at her watch before offering the couple a stilted smile. “If you don’t have any further questions, I’m due in another meeting shortly.”
Joe Ranger stood up. “No problem. We’re outta here.”
Without shaking hands or any parting pleasantries, he stomped out of the room, his wife following meekly behind.
“That went well,” Amber said.
Laura sighed. “I think he’s the rudest potential father I’ve ever met.” She shrugged. “Maybe he thinks we should do this for free.”
“Don’t let it get you down.” She placed a comforting hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Now what did you want to talk to me about?”
Laura’s expression went from sad to sadder. “You know what I told Mr. Ranger about the company’s financial structure is true. What you don’t know is that, due to recent cancellations, we’re in a… a financial bind. We’re looking at possible layoffs for the first time ever. The doctors hate the idea, but they’ve decided the only fair way to handle this is to use a last-in, first-out approach.”
Amber’s stomach knotted.
“Since you’re our newest employee, I’m afraid you’d be the first to go.”
* * *
Ben glanced around the table at the five Mexican men. Their forlorn expressions and haggard appearance spoke of a grueling ordeal. He couldn’t wait to hear their story, but first, he needed to gain their trust.
“Let’s take off the cuffs and get them some water,” he suggested to one of the two ICE agents in the room.
“But—”
“Hell, they’re not going anywhere. They asked for this meeting.”
The agent reluctantly removed their restraints and then left the room to get the water.
“I’m FBI Special Agent Ben Alfren,” he said, reaching across the table to shake hands with each of them. “I don’t condone your coming into our country illegally, but I’m willing to listen to your story.”
“My name is Pedro Casas,” one said. “My English is not so good, but I speak the best.”
The man appeared to be in his late teens. Despite his youth, he exuded confidence. But Ben also detected a hint of panic in his eyes. Pedro had lost someone very dear to him, and he was desperate to get her back. This would definitely be the person to deal with, and not just because of his language skills.
“That’s great, Pedro.” Ben made eye contact with the other four. “Do you all understand English? If not, I can get an interpreter.”
Each man nodded. One mumbled, “We are good.”
“All right. If you want to add anything to what Pedro tells us, just speak up, and he’ll translate for me.” He grinned and patted his chest. “Comprendo muy poco de español.”
The Mexicans chuckled.
He turned his attention back to Pedro. “Start at the beginning.”
The young man told a harrowing tale of dealing with a ruthless coyote who used the nickname Loco and told everyone he worked for the vicious drug lord Enrique Hermosillo. Pedro described riding in a large truck, a semi, and a van. He explained how the armed guards had separated the men from the women, and how he’d been knocked out.
“What happened when you came to?” Ben asked.
“Came to what?”
“It means ‘woke up.’”
“Ah, sí. I woke in the white van with the other men and the guards. They take us to a house to wait until night to go more north.”
“Where was the house?”
Pedro shrugged. “It was with a few others but not in a town.”
The ICE agent returned with five bottles of water and set them on the table. The Mexicans grabbed them immediately.
“Did you see a house number or a street name?” Ben asked.
Pedro frowned as he concentrated. “I do not remember.”
The others shook their heads.
“No problem. We’ll work on that later. Then what happened?”
“They tell us to sleep on the mattresses on the floor, but we are too angry.” He glanced at his companions. “After they lock us in a room, we talk. We do not trust Loco.” Pedro drew a deep breath. “When it is dark, they open the door, let us out of the room. The blue van comes. There are only three women. Five are missing. My Maria is gone.”
Chapter 2
“The kid was crushed,” Special Agent Ben Alfren said. He had returned from the San Ysidro facility an hour ago and sat in his boss’s office giving him an update.
“Wouldn’t you be?” Rex asked.
Ben instantly thought of his ex-girlfriend, Marissa Panuska, and nodded his agreement. “Yeah. I probably would’ve taken someone’s head off.”
“Except these ‘someones’ would’ve had guns trained on you. Not a smart move.”
“True. These five guys were smart though. They bided their time.”
Rex nodded. “How did they get to San Ysidro?”
“The fifteen immigrants and the guards put on blue coveralls over their regular clothes. The uniforms had the logo of a fake cleaning company. They were also given baseball caps with the same branding. When they were taken outside, plastic decals of the logo had been stuck to the sides of the blue and white vans. There were vacuums, buckets, mops, and cleaning supplies inside as props. If stopped, they would’ve looked like a large cleaning crew.”
Rex arched his eyebrows. “Not bad.”
“Best I could piece it together, the house where they were held was in eastern San Diego County. They drove west on Interstate 8 to I-5 north. Without a guard noticing, Pedro kept fiddling with the door handle, but it wouldn’t open. Probably had a child-safety master lock. The vans pulled off the freeway in Oceanside for gas. It wasn’t that late, so the station was still busy. At a signal from Pedro, the other men attacked the two guards, who were at a disadvantage because they’d been smoking weed all day. The kid smashed the window with a metal bucket, reached through the broken glass, and opened the door with the outside handle. Then the five guys made a break for it.”
“The guards didn’t shoot because there were too many witnesses,” Rex surmised.
“No doubt it would’ve ended much worse if the station hadn’t been crawling with customers. Anyway, they laid l
ow in Oceanside until they managed to spot some Hispanics. In no time, the guys were in someone’s kitchen, explaining to a sympathetic audience what had happened. Sure enough, a Good Samaritan offered to drive them down to San Ysidro this morning.”
They sat silent for several minutes.
“No leads on the missing women,” Rex said as more of a statement than a question.
“Nada.” He pulled two photographs from a file and laid them on the desk. “These women are Maria and Carmen.”
“Shit.” The SSA shook his head. “Someone’s daughters, sisters…”
Ben cursed under his breath. “Yeah.”
“The others?”
“The guys didn’t have photographs of the other three women. They’re going to work with a sketch artist.”
Rex stroked his chin. “Did you tell them?”
He shook his head. “Didn’t have to. They’d already heard the horror stories about sex trafficking.”
“Do they know the odds of finding their women?”
“I tried to soften it to a little above zero. Knowing Hermosillo, they could be working near all the new oil fields in North Dakota by now.”
“Too bad the bastard decided to diversify. Guess drugs weren’t enough.”
Ben massaged the tight muscles at the back of his neck. “Yeah, H is a real prick. Wants a piece of anything profitable.”
“How much time and effort do you want to spend on this?”
He exhaled in frustration. “I promised them we’d try. In exchange, they’re going to put their heads together and give us every detail they can about Loco and his connection to Hermosillo. ICE is holding them in a detention center. They gave me a week before they’d start deportation proceedings. If we come up with any leads, they might agree to extend.”
“All right. I can assign Special Agents Staci Hall and Dillon O’Malley to work part-time on this with you. Anything else you need?”
“Yeah. A miracle.”
* * *
“C’mon, Amber. You haven’t been to a single Meet-Your-Neighbors party since you moved in,” the rental agent whined.
Amber glanced past the woman to the pool area down in the courtyard, where a boisterous crowd was deep in party mode. “I’m sorry. I… I’ve been busy.”
“You don’t look busy now. Believe me, it’s gonna be a good one. The apartment complex’s hottie came this time.”
She snorted. “Complex hottie? Seriously?”
“Yeah. His name’s Ben Alfren. He rarely comes to these things, but he’s so freakin’ sexy all the women want to date him.”
“Well… uh… players aren’t really my thing.”
“That’s the crazy part—he never hooks up with anyone. He’s kinda mysterious. Like you.”
Like me, my ass. I bet he’s never had to hide from a stalker a day in his life. “Thanks for the invite, but I—”
“Don’t be a party pooper. Look, come down for just one beer, check out Ben, and then you can leave.” She traced an X over her heart. “I cross my heart. I’ll never bug you again about coming to another complex party.”
That was an offer Amber couldn’t refuse. “All right. Give me a minute, and I’ll come down.”
Amber closed the door and leaned her forehead against it. She so did not want to go to some party. Early on, she’d learned that making friends in new places was dangerous. People talked. And Jeremy knew how to pry information out of unsuspecting do-gooders trying to help him find his “long-lost, mentally unstable sister.”
Besides, her week had ended on the crappy note that she might lose her job. In addition, instinctual warnings about Jeremy’s proximity had started zinging along her nerves again. In a way, it might be a good coincidence the two were happening at the same time. If she had to move because of her stalker anyway, getting laid off wouldn’t feel so bad. But none of it put her in a party mood. Truth was, she had almost forgotten how to let herself go and have fun. However, to get the pesky rental agent off her back, Amber would fake it.
With a resigned sigh, she headed to the bathroom to freshen up. Looking in the mirror, she took inventory. She’d already taken off her makeup—which wasn’t anything more than mascara, blush, and lip gloss anyway—after getting home from work. Without other color, her brown eyes appeared too large in her pale face. Her blond hair hung on her shoulders because she’d also taken down her ponytail. It was slightly tousled from the bad habit of running her fingers through it while she read or watched TV.
Amber stared at her reflection for several seconds. She wasn’t trying to attract attention; she needed to blend in. Screw it. She settled on a swipe of the hairbrush, a swish of mouthwash, and a spray of cologne.
In the bedroom, she evaluated her cutoff denim shorts and oversized T-shirt. Most of the female partiers were wearing tiny scraps of fabric posing as bikinis. Not a chance. Her clothes were comfortable; she wasn’t changing them for anyone. Finally, she slid on leather sandals, stuck her keys in her pocket, and headed for the door.
From the landing at the top of the stairs, she scoped out the party. Always best to know her escape route ahead of time. Scanning the throng, she easily picked out Ben. He was the only guy being swarmed by a dozen women. She chuckled. So much for not being a player.
Steeling herself, she descended the stairs and took her time crossing the palm-lined courtyard. At poolside, she scanned the crowd and realized she truly didn’t know a soul except the rental agent. I should keep it that way.
Caught in the shifting currents of bodies, she missed the coolers of beer on her first pass through the party, so she had to come around again. As she walked past a concrete planter filled with colorful tropical flowers, a lanky guy with dark blond hair latched onto her, his arm draping across her shoulders like a yoke.
“Hey, I’m Gary. Haven’t seen you around before,” he slurred.
“For good reason,” she mumbled and kept moving, resenting the uninvited intimacy of his touch with each step.
“Huh?”
She spotted the refreshments and turned in that direction.
“You lived here long?” Gary asked.
“A couple months.” Reaching the coolers, she squatted beside them, dislodging his arm. After selecting a Coors Light, she rose at an angle and took a quick step to the side to avoid his grasp.
He frowned with annoyance but stayed at her elbow as she moved away from the drinks and food. After finding a less busy place to stand, Amber popped open the can and took a drink. Gary filled the time with a monologue about his accounting profession, his chewing gum addiction, and his bottle cap collection. She tried to listen but found herself counting the minutes until she could politely excuse herself.
Finally, he ran out of steam and asked, “What do you do—”
“I work… a lot.”
“I mean do for fun.”
Nope, not giving any personal info to this dude. Ignoring his question and easing around him, she surveyed the crowd for the rental agent whose name she couldn’t remember.
“Lookin’ for someone?” Gary asked.
“The lady who rented me the apartment. I need to thank her for inviting me to the party.” And remind her to never ask me again.
Her gaze swept through the faces and slammed into a pair of intense blue eyes. They peered at her from between two almost naked women. The hottie gave her a sympathetic look. Amber blinked. For an ephemeral moment, she felt the jolt of a connection. Then a woman’s hand reached up and turned his face toward her for a kiss.
“Oh, you mean Lisa. I saw her over here.” Gary latched on again and led Amber toward a building at the edge of the courtyard.
She glanced over her shoulder and found the concerned blue eyes again. Then bodies shifted, and Ben disappeared.
Hoping Gary had actually spotted Lisa, she let him usher her away from the main crowd. The sooner she said good-bye to them both, the better. This guy smelled like trouble, and it wasn’t just the odors of booze, smoke, and sweat emanating from
him. When she didn’t see Lisa, or anyone else for that matter, in the direction they were heading, she knew it was time for evasive measures.
“Oh, I see her over there,” she lied and tried to pull away.
“Nope, over here.”
Before she could make another move, Gary had her up against a wall. Anger began as a slow simmer deep in her belly.
“Now tell me how you like to have fun,” he slurred, leering down at her.
“I don’t have much.” Her brain formulated an escape plan.
“I can fix that.” One hand grasped her chin, and his mouth descended on hers.
She gagged and shoved against his chest. Her beer fell to the ground, splashing on her feet.
“So you like it rough, huh, babe? I can do rough.” He pressed his erection against her.
“No, Gary! Stop. I don’t want this.” Anger bubbled to the brim.
“That’s what they all say.”
He smashed her against the wall with his body and captured her mouth again. She managed to sink her teeth into his lower lip. He pulled back and gave her a lecherous sneer. Past his shoulder, she noticed someone coming toward them, but Gary framed her face with both hands and angled her head toward his before she could get the person’s attention.
He licked his lips. “God, I love ’em feisty.”
“Look, Gary, back off. Now!” She reined in her anger and gave him the benefit of the doubt. “You’ve had too much to drink, so I won’t take this personally. Just leave me alone.”
“Hard to get, huh? I can do hard.” He pumped his swollen dick into her belly.
She clenched her jaw. Anger boiled over. Why did they never listen?
“Okay, let’s have some fun,” she said, making her voice sickeningly sweet.
He lit up with a triumphant smile and took a step back. “Hot damn.”
His move gave her all the room she needed to bring her knee up sharply between his legs. Howling, he bent over and grabbed his groin. Her right hand slashed like a hatchet into his neck. Gary dropped to his knees.
“I can do hard too, asshole.” She stomped off before he could react. “That went well,” she muttered as she climbed the stairs to her apartment. Once inside, she slammed and locked the door.
Hunted (FBI Heat Book 1) Page 2