He reached behind his back, and his hand returned with a gun. His other hand dug into a pocket of his cargo shorts and lifted out another one. “And now I got two.”
My gun. Shit. Oh God, I’m in trouble.
Her mind raced through the possibilities. If she kicked out at him from this position, she might hit his groin, but more likely his kneecap. Even if he collapsed and she made it to the living room, he had surely secured the additional locks on the front door. She wouldn’t be able to reach high enough with her hands bound behind her back.
Lisa was virtually useless with her hands and feet duct-taped. Besides, she was probably close to shock at this point.
How could all her precautions and preparations be worthless when she needed them?
Oh God, he’s really got me this time.
Chapter 31
Ben listened to Amber’s phone ring again, his third try to contact her. No answer. Reluctantly, he said, “Call me, babe,” and disconnected.
He looked up when several ICE vans pulled into the dormitory parking lot a few yards away. Two men got out of one and strolled to the rear to open the door. They helped Pedro climb out because his hands were bound behind him.
“Dammit,” Ben muttered. He stomped to the van. “Release him.”
“On whose authority?” one of the officers asked.
“Mine. FBI Special Agent Ben Alfren. Release him into my custody.”
They glared at him.
“Look, Pedro turned himself in to save his girlfriend.” Ben gestured toward the dormitory. “Without his help, we never would’ve known this shit was going on.” He glanced down pointedly at the young man’s hands. “Maria almost got killed today. Don’t you think he should be able to touch her?”
The officers’ expressions softened.
“He tipped you guys to all this?” one asked, nodding at the building.
“Sure as hell did.” Maybe that was a stretch, but Pedro had certainly been a critical cog.
“Well, shit. That should count for something. You’re responsible for him though.” The man undid the restraints. “We need him back in this van before we leave.”
“No problem. C’mon, Pedro.” He took the kid by the arm and led him toward the ambulance.
“Muchas gracias, Ben. Is… is my Maria okay?”
“Absolutely. She’s a very brave woman. You’re a lucky man.”
“Sí, very lucky. She is my—how you say?—soul mate.” Then Pedro spotted her and broke into a run. “Maria, Maria!”
“Pedro! Mi amor.” Pushing the paramedic aside, she jumped down into Pedro’s arms. They smothered each other with kisses.
From a discreet distance, Ben watched the unabashed display of affection. A twinge of envy pinched him. He’d experienced that sort of overwhelming love before. Although the relationship with Marissa had failed painfully, he would never regret what they’d shared. An epiphany stunned him. For the first time in two years, he wanted, seriously wanted, an all-in relationship again. With a new woman. Another intelligent, brave woman.
He whipped out his cell. Answer, Amber, answer. But she didn’t. “Call me, babe.” He stuffed the phone back in his pocket. Dread rippled through him, raising goose bumps.
He didn’t notice Rex approaching until he pounded him on the back.
“Again, congratulations on a great job, Ben. I just finished monitoring Staci’s raid. Went down without a hitch. We have so many people in custody, I don’t know what we’re going to do with them all.” He laughed. “Best news is Johnson’s wound isn’t major, so no significant injuries to the good guys. The bad guys didn’t fare as well, but I don’t give a damn.”
His boss’s words barely registered. His gut screamed that something was wrong with Amber, and he feared he knew what it was.
“I gotta go, Boss.”
“Hey, just because I said you did a great job doesn’t let you off the hook on cleaning up this mess.” He chuckled and motioned toward the vehicles and people scattered across the site.
“It’s Amber.”
Rex frowned. “What?”
“Amber’s in trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?”
Damn, he didn’t have time for explanations. If Amber couldn’t answer the phone, things were already bad. Real bad. “Stalker trouble. Violent former boyfriend. He’s put her in the hospital before.” Even if Rex objected, Ben was leaving. Screw the op. Screw his career. “I need your keys, Boss.”
He didn’t hesitate a second before digging them from his pocket and tossing them to Ben. “Need help?”
He started running toward Rex’s Bureau sedan. “Yeah. You’re in charge of cleanup and Pedro,” he called without looking back.
* * *
While her former boyfriend threw clothes and shoes into a large suitcase, Amber’s mind raced. Four times, she’d heard her cell ringing in her purse in the living room. Jeremy either didn’t notice or didn’t care.
Please let it be Ben calling with news on the raids, she prayed. He was the only person she could imagine figuring out something was terribly wrong if she didn’t answer. No one else in the world had any idea what was going on in her life. How sad—and possibly tragic—was that?
Not one resident in the complex would realize there was a problem unless they discovered Lisa was missing. But since the rental agent often left the office to show apartments or run errands, hours could pass before anyone noticed. Because Amber hadn’t been at work since Monday, nobody would be missing her there either. No friends and relatives from Kansas or acquaintances in San Diego would be looking for her.
Aloneness swamped her. Jeremy had isolated her from the rest of the world and hunted her down. Resignation weighed heavy and stifled her will to fight. What’s the use? He’s won. Admitting defeat wasn’t in her nature, but her plight felt hopeless.
Numbness shielded her from panic. She watched his frantic activity with a certain detachment. Even with all his psychological problems, he had managed to outsmart her. She’d been so careful to learn from every previous mistake. But she’d obviously screwed up again.
“Jeremy, how did you find me… this time?” she asked listlessly.
He barked an ugly laugh and plopped down on the bed next to her. “Thought you’d figured out how to hide your address, huh, girlie? Usin’ a PO Box and never listin’ your apartment number anywhere was pretty good, but not good enough to fool ole Jeremy.”
She sighed. “I was pretty sure you’d found the complex.”
“Yeah. But I could never spot you comin’ or goin’. You and those goddamn disguises.”
“So what gave me away?”
“Not what, who.” He smirked.
“Lisa. Jesus, I should’ve known.”
“Nope, not Lisa. Laura.”
She frowned. “Laura? Laura who?”
“Laura, your boss.”
Reality refused to register. “Laura Eldridge?”
“How many bosses do you have named Laura?” he snapped.
She shook her head in disbelief. Her boss knew about the history with Jeremy. Laura would never give him information about her. “Dammit. How did you trick her?”
He snorted. “Didn’t have to. She offered you up on a silver platter.”
“What?” Not Laura? Office Mom. My friend. She gagged as bile rose in her throat again. “No way. You’re lying.” He had to be lying. He simply had to be. Laura wouldn’t betray her.
“Why would I lie? So, don’t believe me. I don’t give a damn.”
Why would he lie? What did he have to gain from it? Her stomach roiled with disgust. “But how?”
He shrugged. “I’d called yesterday actin’ like I was a bank doin’ employment verification for a loan. The chick who answered said I’d have to talk to Laura and took my contact info. She didn’t call me back until this mornin’. Smart lady.”
“How’s that?”
“She’d already figured out I was no damn bank. She came right out and asked if I was J
eremy Nelson. At first, I denied it ’cuz I figured she’d call the cops or somethin’. But then, she said she could help me. Go figure.”
No, wait. It doesn’t make sense. “Laura doesn’t know my apartment number. I never put it on any of my personnel forms.”
“Now you’re catchin’ on. She didn’t know the number, but she damn well knew which apartment was yours. Said she’d been here once.”
The bottom dropped out of her stomach. That was true. Laura had brought soup when Amber had the flu.
“She described the location perfectly. I made a beeline over here, grabbed Lisa from the office with a little convincin’ from my sidekick…” He patted the gun in his waistband. “And here you are, thanks to Laura.”
“But why? Why, dammit?”
“Hell if I know. Don’t matter to me.”
She closed her eyes. Why would Laura screw her over? They were friends. Her boss had genuinely regretted having to fire her.
Or had she?
She studied Laura’s image in her mind. Fifty. Petite. Slightly gray.
Her heart lodged in her throat. Oh my God.
* * *
Ben careened out of the dormitory parking lot in Rex’s unmarked black sedan. Every instinct screamed Amber was in danger. How could he have been so stupid to leave her alone? He should’ve made her stay at his office while the raids went down. What the hell was I thinking?
Could the timing be any worse? He’d finally reached the point where he wanted a serious relationship with a woman again, and now, some asshole was going to ruin it.
For him. For Amber.
But wait. Did she want a long-term relationship? She claimed she didn’t because of Jeremy, because she’d have to go on the run again. Or if they stopped him, Ben believed she’d move back to Kansas. But…
The proverbial lightbulb flashed on. Suddenly, her odd change of moods when they were taking the nursery pictures and talking about staying in his home made sense. Amber wanted what she didn’t think she could ever have: a long-term relationship. With him.
“Shit!” he shouted and slammed his hand against the steering wheel.
He cut through Imperial Beach like a madman on a mission. Because he was crazy with fear. For Amber. If Jeremy hurt her… He couldn’t let himself finish the thought.
He wound through traffic like a basket weaver. Passed cars as though they were standing still. Ran a red light. Earned several honks and middle-finger salutes.
Finally, he swerved onto Highway 75 north. A straight shot up the Silver Strand with the Pacific stretching to the horizon on his left. Damn the tourists crawling along the highway, watching the waves crash on the beach. Darting around any vehicle that dared to block his path, he raced toward Coronado.
Only a few more miles…
Chapter 32
Amber’s arms ached from being trussed behind her with duct tape. Her hands were going numb. Even if she managed to free herself, her diminished physical condition would severely hinder her movements.
“Where’s your passport?” Jeremy asked, tossing folders out of the file box where she kept important papers.
“I don’t have one.”
Yanking the gun from his waistband, he marched across the bedroom. “Don’t fuck with me, bitch.” He shoved the muzzle under her chin. “I don’t got all day. We gotta hoof it to ole Mexico real fast.”
He wouldn’t shoot her. At least, she didn’t believe he would. He wanted to punish her too much to end it that fast. Unless he was off his meds. In that case, Jeremy didn’t think like a rational person; he was completely unpredictable.
“Remember, I changed my name. I didn’t get a new one.”
He narrowed his eyes. “But the old one’s still good. The picture is you.”
“But the Mexican officials will compare it to my driver’s license, and the names don’t match. They won’t let us across the border. They might even call the US Border Patrol.” She didn’t know if they compared the two IDs or not, but it sounded reasonable. She’d tell any lie necessary to prevent him from taking her into Mexico. Once there, no one would find her.
Jeremy thought a moment. Always dangerous. “We’ll hide your driver’s license somewhere in the car. Tell them you don’t have one.”
“Like they’ll believe that.”
He slapped her so hard her head spun. She tasted blood on her lips, and the drumbeat started in her brain again.
“Don’t sass me. You know what happens when you do.”
With her thoughts scrambled by pain, she couldn’t respond.
“Well, I’ll just go ask Lisa where it is.” He sauntered to the bedroom door.
“She doesn’t know.”
“But you do. You decide how much you want her to suffer before you tell me.”
“Don’t, Jeremy, please.”
He shrugged as if to say it was her fault. True to form, he always blamed others for his atrocious behavior.
He stomped out the door. A few minutes later, muffled screams came from the living room.
“Stop, Jeremy, stop! I’ll tell you. Leave Lisa alone,” Amber shouted.
A final whimper reached her ears and then a loud thud. Oh God, no.
He stormed back into the bedroom. “See what you made me do.”
Before he jammed the gun against her temple, she caught a glimpse of blood on the muzzle.
“Where… the… hell… is… your passport? I’m only askin’ once,” he ground out.
No sense in dragging out the inevitable, especially if it might mean a delay in getting Lisa help. “Lockbox under the couch. Key’s on the keychain in my purse.”
Growling with frustration, he trudged from the bedroom again, returning a few minutes later with her passport held high like a trophy. He grinned and fanned the five hundred dollars of cash she also kept in the box for emergency getaways.
“That’s my girl. Always prepared.” He surveyed the room. “We’re done here. Time to go.” After stuffing her passport and cash in his pocket, he closed and zipped the suitcase. Then he yanked a sweater out of a drawer. “Get up.”
He stepped out of reach of her legs as she rolled to the side and leveraged herself off the bed. He draped the sweater across her shoulders, fastened the top button, and pulled down the back to cover her bound hands. “Aren’t you the pretty one, sweetheart?”
“Jeremy, stop and think. You’ll never get away with this. Don’t screw up your life.”
“Shut up, bitch. You already screwed it up good. Now, let’s do this,” he drawled.
He marched her down the hallway and through the living room. When he stopped to sling Amber’s purse over her shoulder, she spotted Lisa sprawled on the floor between the couch and coffee table, blood oozing from a gash at her temple. Her throat tightened.
“Lisa needs medical attention, Jeremy. Let me call 911 after we leave.”
“Not a chance. Someone will find her eventually.” He shoved Amber out the door and closed it behind them. Hiding the gun under the sweater, he positioned it against her back. “One wrong move and you’re history.”
Unfortunately, the courtyard was still deserted. She wasn’t sure what she would’ve done if someone had been around, but the opportunity didn’t arise.
She glanced up at the door to Ben’s apartment, and her eyes stung with tears. If she’d left town when her early-warning signals had first gone off, she would’ve been able to say good-bye. Now he’d hear about her abduction from Lisa, who would hit on him with her next breath. Ben would move on with his life. In time, their two-week fling would fade from his memory. But she would never forget him.
Walking at a steady pace, they reached Jeremy’s Jeep Cherokee parked on the street in only a few minutes. She peered over her shoulder for one last look. Her final moments of freedom had been spent here. They hadn’t been especially happy hours, worrying about Ben and the operation. Would news of the FBI raids reach into Mexico? Would she ever know if they freed Maria and captured Raul Garcia? Would she learn
of the demise of Dream Makers? Would she have the comfort of knowing FBI Special Agent Ben Alfren hadn’t been injured or killed?
Hopelessness swelled inside. Those events were no longer part of her life.
It was over.
Jeremy hoisted her up, buckled her into the passenger seat, and slammed the door. After throwing her suitcase in the back, he climbed in and cranked the engine.
“Hasta la vista,” he said.
The Jeep had just pulled away from the curb when Jeremy had to swerve to avoid an oncoming black sedan racing toward the apartment complex.
“Learn to drive, asshole!” he shouted and pounded the horn.
* * *
“Shit!” Ben hissed as he sped past the white Jeep Cherokee heading in the opposite direction.
The person in the passenger seat was Amber. He’d only seen her for a split second, but he knew without a doubt. Unfortunately, he also knew the driver was Jeremy Nelson.
Slamming on the brakes, he glanced in the rearview mirror as the traffic light turned green, and the vehicle turned left onto Orange Avenue.
“Damn.”
Where would Jeremy take her? Think, Alfren, think.
There were only two roads leading off the Coronado peninsula: the route he’d just driven along the Silver Strand from Imperial Beach, and the bridge across the bay to San Diego and Interstate 5. The freeway was the straightest and fastest route to the Mexican border, only fifteen or twenty minutes, depending on traffic. If Jeremy reached Mexico, the chances of finding Amber shrank to almost nothing. That was exactly where he would be going.
Cut him off before he gets there.
Ben hit the accelerator. The tires squealed. Instead of doing a U-turn and following the Jeep, which was now completely out of sight, he fishtailed a turn onto Glorietta Boulevard and gunned it. He knew there was no left turn allowed from Glorietta onto Fourth Street, leading to the bridge. Screw that. He would drive the car over concrete barriers, a golf course, or someone’s lawn if he had to. His only chance to catch Jeremy was to access the bridge from that location.
Hunted (FBI Heat Book 1) Page 22