“South. Everybody copy that?” Ben said.
All teams confirmed.
Where was the van taking the women? The border was approximately thirty minutes away. But the dormitory couldn’t be in Mexico—could it? The women were undocumented aliens, but Amber had been shown a notebook full of official-looking documents, supposedly proof of the surrogates’ legal status. But the documentation was probably fake. No, they wouldn’t house the kidnapped women in Mexico. Cops might be more likely to look the other way or to accept bribes on that side of the border, but getting back and forth would pose a serious threat to the ongoing business.
Between downtown San Diego and Mexico, the bad guys had a choice of National City, Chula Vista, Imperial Beach, and San Ysidro. Marissa’s premonition had shown the dormitory near the ocean. The first two cities fronted along San Diego Bay, and San Ysidro was inland. Was the puzzle pointing to Imperial Beach?
Should he alert the team to the possibility? What would he say? A fellow agent with Czech gypsy genes had a hallucination in which the target property was in Imperial Beach. Yeah, right. But if they lost the van, maybe the “intel” would come in handy.
Heading in the opposite direction on the same freeway, Ben drove from downtown toward the FBI office in Sorrento Valley. He glanced at Amber, who sat silently staring out the side window. He wanted to take the time to cheer her up, but he had to stay focused on the op.
He pulled into the FBI compound and parked.
“Still on I-5 south. Leaving National City,” Dillon said.
“Copy, I-5 south,” others responded.
Ben hustled Amber inside, and they made it to the computer showing the video feed from the chopper before the next update.
“That’s the van. There’s Dillon. That’s Staci,” he explained to Amber, pointing out the vehicles on the screen.
“Leaving Chula Vista,” Dillon reported.
“All eyes on target?” Ben asked.
Everyone checked in.
“Vehicle moving to the right lane, slowing. Next exit Palm Avenue, Imperial Beach.”
Ben smiled. Son of a bitch. “Stay close. Don’t lose them,” he warned again. “If he continues to slow, take the exit in front of him, Staci.”
“Copy.”
Her gaze glued to the screen, Amber grabbed his arm. “They’re going to find it,” she whispered.
“That’s the plan.”
“Definitely slowing,” Dillon said from the car behind the van. “Right blinker. He’s taking this exit.”
“We’re off,” Staci said.
“Target exiting. We’re on his tail.”
“Good job,” Ben said.
Amber exhaled loudly and dropped into a chair.
He shook his head and chuckled.
“Turning west on Palm.”
“Chopper eyes on target?” Ben asked.
“Got it,” Conrad replied.
“Cars hang back. Don’t get made.”
Minutes passed, breathing the only sound.
“Left turn onto Seacoast Drive. Commercial area,” Conrad said.
“Still have visual,” Dillon confirmed.
C’mon, c’mon, be there, be there.
“Pulling into the parking lot of an old hotel with no signage. We got you, assholes,” Dillon hissed.
Hot damn.
Amber let out a whoop and then slapped her hand over her mouth. Ben laughed.
“Dillon, keep the visual. Staci, circle until they’re inside.”
“Five women and two men exiting van. Entering building.”
“Great job, everyone. We have located the dormitory. All teams reconnoiter. We’ll need detailed intel to set up tonight’s stakeout and tomorrow’s raid. Send me lots of pictures. Staci, stay on-site until relieved.”
“Congratulations, Ben,” Rex said from behind him and slapped his shoulder. “Now get to work.” He winked at Amber and walked away.
“‘Get to work’? What does he think you’ve been doing all day?” Amber asked.
He snorted. “Nothing, compared to tomorrow.”
Chapter 24
Amber sat in the same room at the San Diego FBI office where she’d worked with Ben that morning. So much had happened; how could it still be Wednesday?
Ben was über-busy planning tomorrow’s operations. Instead of stressing him out, the challenge of coordinating multiple locations with precise timing actually seemed to give him an adrenaline rush. When he’d told her on the night they met that he loved his job, he hadn’t been exaggerating. Catching bad guys was in his blood. And the prospect of rescuing Maria and the other women obviously amped up his excitement.
Not getting Pedro’s note to Maria weighed on Amber. The poor young woman had looked so bewildered after seeing his picture. Perhaps the silver lining was that bewildered was better than frightened. And Amber had caught a break when Dr. Ortega picked up the piece of paper. If it had landed with the writing side up, he would’ve known it wasn’t her grocery list. All in all, the entire experience left her freaked out.
She tried to read the book she found in her purse, but her attention kept drifting. Her iPhone provided entertainment for about thirty minutes. She took off the wig and finger-combed her hair. After removing the contacts, she cradled her head in her arms on the table. Mentally, she reviewed the time at Dream Makers. Some detail hid at the edge of her memory, but she simply couldn’t find it.
“You asleep?” Ben’s familiar voice startled her.
She sat up. “Just thinking.”
“Please tell me you’re not still worried about the note.”
“Not as much.” She sighed. “Actually, I keep thinking I’ve forgotten something.”
“Like what?”
“If I knew what it was, it wouldn’t be forgotten,” she snapped.
“Whoa, down girl.” He smiled. “I understand you’re freaked, but remember, I’m one of the good guys.” He dropped into the chair next to her. “We already talked through the whole encounter, and we covered everything I could recall.”
“I know. It’s just… just that I was in such a panic after dropping the note, the rest of the time is a blur.”
“I’ll have someone set up the audio recording for you to listen to.”
“Thanks. That might help.” She rubbed both temples. “I wish I could remember.”
“Hey, don’t stress.” He threaded his fingers through her hair and pulled her closer for a kiss. His tongue teased her lips apart. He moaned and changed angles for better access.
“Excuse me,” a voice said from the direction of the door.
Amber jerked back and gasped.
“What, Staci?” Ben asked without turning around.
“I just got in from Imperial Beach. I need an update.”
“Talk to Dillon.”
“But—”
“Talk… to… Dillon,” he repeated with his back still to her.
Amber glanced at Staci and received a glare in return before the agent left.
“What’s up with her? She’s been rude since we met.”
He shook his head. “That’s just Staci. She’s a drama queen. We’ve known each other since the Academy. Unfortunately, she hated my last girlfriend. Tried to make our lives a living hell.”
“Maybe she’s in love with you.”
“God, I hope not.” He shook his head vehemently. “No, no way.”
“Was Staci the reason for the breakup—the one you’re just recovering from?”
He pondered the question for several beats. “I used to think so. But Marissa said it was a prem… uh… No, it wasn’t Staci.”
“Marissa is… was your girlfriend?”
“Yeah. FBI Special Agent Marissa Panuska.” He paused. “You… you’re both strong women. I hope you get to meet her someday.”
She nodded politely, but former girlfriends weren’t high on her list for besties. “Do you need to go?” she asked during a lull in the conversation.
“No.” He stood
up and sauntered to the door. After fiddling with the doorknob, he returned to his seat. “I need to be right here, doing this.” He lifted her from the chair and onto his lap. “I know what will help you unwind.”
He claimed her mouth again, but that wasn’t all. His fingers slipped beneath the hem of her skirt and tiptoed upward, pushing her legs apart.
Her breath caught, and she started to pull away.
His other hand cupped the back of her head. “Let me in,” he whispered against her lips.
As his hand crept higher up her thigh, he nibbled her lower lip. She squirmed on his lap, his erection pressing against her bottom.
He groaned. “It’s not every day I get a lap dance at the office.”
His warm hand molded to the crotch of her panties and sent tingles to her toes. Desire flared, hot and needy. His skillful fingers traced the edge of the elastic—up, down; up, down—before sliding underneath. Separating and stroking, he found her most sensitive spot. Press, rub, circle. Press, rub, circle.
Inside, she coiled tighter and tighter. Two fingers thrust inside—in, out; in, out—while his thumb continued to caress.
“I can’t—” she gasped.
“You can.”
“Not here.”
“Yes, here. Now.”
He rubbed faster and pushed her over the edge. As a cry of satisfaction left her lips, he smothered it with his mouth. Thoroughly sated, she floated, limp and languid, back to earth.
Ben removed his hand, straightened her panties, and smoothed her skirt. “Now, what did you forget?”
“My name?”
* * *
An hour later, Ben returned to the room. He grinned at the pretty woman sleeping with her head on her arms. His earlier visit had done the trick to relax her—and more. He kissed her temple and whispered in her ear, “Wake up, babe.”
Her dark chocolate eyes opened, and she smiled up at him dreamily. “Are you here for an encore?”
He snorted. “No, sorry. This room has a one-a-day limit. But we have pizza. Come eat.”
She sighed and sat up. “I’d really rather go… home.”
His smile faded. “I can’t leave yet.”
“I understand. I wish I’d driven myself this morning. If someone can’t take me, I’ll call a taxi.”
“Transportation isn’t the issue.”
“C’mon, Ben. I’ll be careful. I was looking out for myself long before I met you.”
“But now you have met me. And I have a vested interest.”
She cocked her head. “What does that mean?”
Only fools rush in… He looked away for a moment and then brought his gaze back to hers. “I told you I don’t want you to leave. That’s a clue.”
“I’m not leaving town, just going home.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Do I?” She arched her eyebrows. “Do you?”
“Cut me some slack, Amber. I’m buried in this op. Friday, we can talk all you want about us.”
“That’s not my point. I’m not forcing you to say anything. I’m a big girl. I should be able to go home alone.”
He pressed his lips together and glared. “It sucks being here. I understand that. But you’re safe.”
“You can’t protect me every minute.”
“Doesn’t mean I don’t want to.”
She blinked. Then blinked faster.
“Look, babe, I’m not your dom or whatever the hell Christian Grey was called. I don’t control you. I want you to stay of your own free will.”
Her eyes glistened before she lowered them. “How much longer?”
“A couple hours.”
“Fine.”
“I got this.” He closed his eyes and pressed his fingertips to his temples as if mind reading. “‘Fine’ means you’re right, and I should shut up.” Then he pinned her with a no-nonsense stare. “Be careful. I have some choice words of my own.”
She smiled innocently. “Where’s the pizza? I’m starving.”
The planning for the Thursday ops actually took three more hours. Ben would’ve stayed longer, but Rex approved the plan and ordered everyone to get some sleep. He set roll call for four a.m.
Before leaving, Ben checked in one last time with the agents staking out the dormitory. They gave him a complete report. All quiet. The place looked locked down tight. Through the lobby windows, they could see the armed guards watching a huge flat-screen television. Lights were on in a few of the second-floor rooms, but none of the women ever came to the windows. Metal bars deterred any thoughts of escape. Through the large windows at both ends of the upstairs hallway, the agents had discovered two locked gates blocking access to the stairs and elevators.
Ben suspected Garcia would’ve also changed the individual room doors to lock from the outside instead of the inside. Essentially, the women were caged. If a fire broke out, they were trapped without a means of escape. In the surveillance pictures, the drab place appropriately resembled a prison more than a hotel. One more night, Maria. Only one more night.
Guilt gripped him as he watched Amber trudge to the Beemer. She was beyond tired, but had agreed to put the disguise back on without too much complaint. Had he been an ogre to persuade her to stay? No, she’s safer with me.
Since she was so tired, he circled the neighborhood only once and then did a quick search of the complex. Neither action revealed any signs of Jeremy Nelson. Although there weren’t any physical signs, the hairs at his nape stood on end. Marissa had taught him never to ignore such warnings. On instinct, he patted the Glock in the shoulder holster under his jacket.
“C’mon, babe, I need to get you into bed,” he said, opening the passenger door.
She smiled sleepily. “Promises, promises.”
He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and she leaned into him as they walked past the mailboxes. Despite the awesome feeling of having her tucked under his arm and knowing her slender, nubile body would be beside him all night, his mind moved to high alert, and tension built in his muscles.
When they reached the corner, he heard heavy footsteps, approaching fast. Instantly, he swung Amber behind him.
A figure in a gray hoodie burst from the darkness and plowed into him.
Chapter 25
The gray hoodie came out of nowhere and slammed into Ben.
Amber screamed.
If Ben hadn’t spun her behind him the second before, she would’ve been hit full force and been lying on the ground instead of watching in fear and disbelief. Amazingly, Ben took a single step back as he absorbed the blow.
Jeremy, on the other hand, hadn’t anticipated the brick wall of Ben’s body. He swore as he bounced off and stumbled backward before falling to the ground.
Frantically, Amber dug in her purse for her gun.
Ben launched himself at the guy, rolled him onto his stomach, and yanked his arms behind him. He straddled the man and dropped onto his back. Jeremy yelled in pain when Ben pushed his arms higher up his back.
Her fingers closed around the reassuring metal as she yanked out the pistol. Automatically widening her stance and releasing the safety, she gripped the gun with both hands. Despite her panic, she held the weapon steady. “Don’t move or I’ll shoot!”
Ben’s head whipped around, alarm in his eyes but calm in his voice when he said, “Great job, babe, but I got this.”
The words didn’t register over her pounding heart and gasping breath.
His expression grew more serious. “I got it under control. Lower… the… gun,” he said with unquestionable authority.
Air whooshed out of her lungs. She lifted her finger off the trigger and let her arms fall.
“Let’s get a good look at you, asshole,” Ben said.
He jerked the hood down, pulling hair with it.
Jeremy howled.
“Son of a bitch,” Ben growled. “C’mere, babe.”
She told herself there was no reason to be afraid. Ben sat atop Jeremy on the concrete with her sta
lker’s arms pinned to his back. Her former boyfriend couldn’t harm her. Yet her feet refused to move. All the times he’d hurt her flashed through her mind. He got off on it. He enjoyed it. The mere sight of Jeremy, subdued or not, terrified her.
Ben turned to face her. “It’s okay. Come see.”
She glanced down at the gun in her hand and decided not to put it in her purse. Its cold hardness empowered her.
Putting one foot in front of the other, she lurched forward until she stood beside Ben and Jeremy. “You b-bastard,” she hissed.
Ben smacked the back of the man’s head. “Look at her.”
Slowly, the guy turned his head.
Amber gasped. Her mind went blank. She stared at the man who should’ve been Jeremy.
But wasn’t.
“What… the…?”
“Yeah, Gary. What the hell? Answer the lady.”
“It’s… just… a… game,” he ground out between pants for air.
“A game? Aren’t you a little old for Capture the Flag or Ghost in the Graveyard?”
“Get… off… me. You’re… crushing… my… goddamn… back.”
Ben slapped his head again. “Watch your mouth. Show some respect.”
He climbed off his victim, but not without putting a knee in the small of his back. Gary groaned.
“It’s… n-not… h-he’s… n-not…,” she stammered.
“Nope.” He moved beside her, took the gun from her hand, and set the safety. “You okay?”
“I-I guess. What…?”
He wrapped one arm around her shaking shoulders. “Yeah, Gary, what screwed-up game are you playing?”
Moaning, Gary rolled onto his back and lay spread-eagle on the concrete with his eyes closed. “It’s called Knockout. All the gangbangers play it in the big cities. They catch people unaware and knock them out.”
“Christ. Yeah, I’ve heard of it. But it’s not a game; it’s assault. Are you a gangsta wannabe?”
“Not really. My buds dared me to do it.”
“Tell your ‘buds’ that you tried it on an FBI agent, and I kicked your ass. If I ever catch any of you doing this shit again, I’ll call my contacts in the SDPD. Got that, homey?”
“Yeah, sorry, dude. You too, ma’am.”
“I bet you are,” Amber said under her breath.
Hunted (FBI Heat Book 1) Page 18