Threat of Exposure

by Lynette Eason

  Brock jumped out from beside her and clipped the man around the knees.

  The two crashed to the dirt floor. Gisella scrambled for the light. Snatching it up, she turned it on the struggling duo. Brock caught a punch to the eye and reared back. But before the attacker could gather the strength for another blow, Brock’s fist landed on the man’s jaw.

  And he went still.

  Panting, Brock rolled away from the now-stunned smuggler. Gisella kicked the gun against the dirt wall and slapped the first cuff on the man’s thick wrist.

  Brock shoved him onto his stomach and finished the job.

  “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “Yeah. I’ll have a shiner and probably a headache, but yeah, I’m good. You?”

  “Peachy.” She looked around. “No one’s coming down here. I guess we’re still undetected for now.”

  Brock grunted. “What do you want to do with him?”

  “Tie your bandanna around his mouth and let’s handcuff him somewhere back in one of the side areas.”

  “Works for me.” Brock whipped the bandanna from around his neck and fashioned a gag for their prisoner. Gisella took the cuffs Brock held out to her and fitted the first one around the chain connecting the ones attached to the man’s wrist. As Brock forced the man to walk, she found a rung attached to the wall, probably used by the smugglers to find their way in the dark. She snapped the second cuff around this. Then she grabbed the gun she’d kicked against the wall and stuck it into her waistband in the small of her back.

  It wasn’t comfortable, but would have to do because she sure wasn’t leaving it with the prisoner.

  Brock walked to the ladder, placed his foot on the first rung and began climbing.

  Gisella quickly followed and soon, he was at the top.

  Once there, he closed his eyes and listened.

  Nothing. Had the men stepped outside of the tomb to conduct their business? They would have had to or he would have heard voices. And they would have already put in an appearance to see what was going on below. Were they even still there?

  Surely they were or he and Gisella would have been trapped once again in the tunnel with the bad guys bearing down on them.

  With a cautious push, he lifted the lid of the coffin an inch. More darkness. He felt Gisella behind him on the steps, impatience radiating from her. Yet she remained silent and let him take the lead.

  Another push and the lid lifted a few more inches. Still no light. No one was in the tomb. He finished opening it, reached in and grasped her hand. “Come on. We’re good.” Keeping his voice low, he said, “They’ve gone outside. Let’s get out if we can, but be on your guard. As soon as they realize our friend back there is missing, they might come looking for him.”

  Brock pictured the door in relation to the coffin and moved toward it, hands outstretched. When his fingertips touched it, he slid them down to find the knob. It occurred to him that someone must have added that when they’d decided to build the tunnel.

  Why would a mausoleum need a knob on the inside?

  Turning it slowly, he inched the door open, not worried about it making any noise, but more worried about the location of the men. He didn’t like not being able to see what he was walking into.

  Once he had the door open enough to look out, he saw lights in the distance. A car had parked opposite the mausoleum and the men were gathered around it. He placed a call to the sheriff and requested backup keeping his voice in a low whisper. No one looked his way.

  “Backup should be on the way,” he whispered back to Gisella then nodded in the direction of the men. “They’re distracted for now. I’m going to see if I can get a little closer and hear what they’re saying.”

  “I’m right behind you.”

  Brock grimaced at her statement. He’d hoped she would stay behind, but he had to admit he wasn’t surprised at her insistence on going with him. Not that he thought she couldn’t handle herself, but it sure would make him feel better knowing she was tucked away somewhere safe.

  He started toward the men, ducking behind tombstones just as he’d done when he’d been avoiding gunfire only a couple of days before.

  Fortunately for Brock and Gisella, the car’s headlights illuminated the area in front of it, leaving the surrounding area still dark so that if someone looked in their direction, they would still be protected by the night.

  But the men didn’t seem too worried about being caught as they never took their attention from whoever was in the car issuing orders. And handing out cash.

  An arm shot out of the window and handed a handful of money to each man, one by one. As the men received their money, they repositioned their now-empty backpacks over their shoulders.

  “Hey! Paco! Where are you?” The one who’d just received his money called out in Spanish and looked around.

  Brock sped up.

  Gisella glided behind him on silent feet, her weapon held ready in her right hand.

  They reached a large tombstone and ducked behind it. Peering around the edge, Brock saw one of the men move.

  He headed that way and as he moved, Brock caught a glimpse of two men in the car. One was just a shadow that he couldn’t make out, but the light from one of the smuggler’s flashlights illuminated a face he knew well.

  Niles Vernon.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Gisella’s stomach burned as she honed in on the agent.

  A dirty cop. She didn’t want to believe it, but she couldn’t deny the evidence right before her eyes. Disgust curled inside her and she gripped her gun, ready to come out and arrest them all by herself.

  But that would be stupid.

  The one who’d called out for Paco—probably the guy in the tunnel—walked toward the mausoleum. Gisella saw that Brock had his weapon trained on the man.

  Snatching her phone, she punched in a text to the sheriff asking for backup, then one to Levi letting him know what was going on.

  He would call in the reinforcements. Without waiting for confirmation that he’d received the text, she tucked the phone back on her clip and got ready to go on the defensive with the man looking for Paco.

  Brock waited until she nodded at him to let him know that backup was on the way. An angry shout made her duck and her heartbeat jerk into overdrive. Had they been discovered?

  A gun cracked, a man screamed. Gisella peered around the edge of the tombstone to see a body on the ground in front of the car. The one who’d been headed their way spun on his heel to watch everything play out.

  Niles stood behind the open driver’s door, his gun held casually in his hand. His eyes scanned the now-silent group of eight men. “Anyone else think I’m cheating them?”

  No one responded and Niles smirked. “Yeah. That’s what I thought. You have your orders. Don’t mess up.” He gave a casual wave to the man he’d shot. “And clean that up. Take him back with you. I don’t need any evidence he was here.”

  Everything in Gisella wanted to confront the murderous Border Patrol agent, but these men were all armed, all dangerous—and all scared of Niles Vernon.

  It would be suicide for her and Brock to reveal themselves without help.

  Headlights illuminated the area in front of her and Gisella breathed a prayer that it was backup. The group froze at the approach of the vehicle then scattered when they saw it was a patrol car. Niles swore and thumped a hand on the hood of his car, but didn’t run.

  Probably thought he could handle the sheriff, Gisella decided. She looked over at Brock and saw him watching, waiting for just the right moment.

  Satisfaction thumped in her. Niles didn’t know she and Brock were the ones that had called in the reinforcements. Then she frowned at the single patrol car. Where were the rest of them? Surely, the sheriff didn’t think he could take care of this alone?

  Then again, he was probably counting on her and Brock to help him out.

  Still…

  The car rolled to a stop and the sheriff got out of the driver’s side
. Chris Locke climbed from the passenger seat.

  Sheriff Johnston’s booming voice cut through the sudden silence. “What’s the problem, Vernon?”

  “What do you want, Kip? There’s no problem. I told you I could handle this.”

  “You can, huh? Why aren’t you answering your radio? And where’s the Ranger and her sidekick? We’ve got company downtown. Two more Rangers.”

  Gisella saw Brock frown at the slight insult. She kept her focus on the men before her even while her eyes scanned the surrounding area. Two more Rangers? Levi and Evan? Ben had sent help even though she’d told him she didn’t need it. Instead of feeling insulted, she was grateful. She just hoped Levi had gotten her text about her current location. She’d sent that text just as an FYI. Now, she realized it might very well bring the Rangers to her and Brock’s aid.

  Maybe.

  The smugglers from Juarez had scattered, but no doubt they hadn’t gone far, hoping Niles would deal with the sheriff and they could conclude their business.

  Niles shrugged. “How would I know? I had business to take care of tonight and it didn’t include babysitting.” He moved to climb back into his vehicle, resting his hand on top of the open door. “Guess you scared my business off.”

  The sheriff scowled. “I got a call that they were here and requesting backup.”

  At that, Niles jerked. “Here? Where?”

  Gisella and Brock exchanged a glance. She whispered, “If we let him drive off, he’ll get rid of the drugs in the car and we’ll lose our evidence. We can’t wait any longer.”

  “I agree. I’d feel better with more help, but you’re right.”

  “I’ll help the sheriff and Chris arrest Niles. You watch for anyone who decides to come back and fight.” He nodded and she stepped from behind the stone to point her weapon at Niles.

  “Freeze, Niles! You’re under arrest.”

  Niles did as ordered and froze. More in shock than in any desire to follow her command. He rotated, hands held where she could see them and met her gaze.

  His wary eyes narrowed. “For what?”

  “Smuggling drugs. I think we’re going to find something real interesting in the contents of those backpacks that you threw in the back of your car. Sheriff, Locke.” She glanced at the two men. “I need a set of cuffs, please. I had to leave mine down in the tunnel.”

  “What tunnel?” Chris demanded.

  “Long story,” Brock murmured from behind her. He kept his back to her back and she knew he was watching for any threatening movement, determined not to be taken by surprise by a returning smuggler.

  The sheriff held up a hand. “Hold on a second.” He glared at Gisella. “Why would you want to arrest Agent Vernon? Are you out of your mind?”

  “Hardly.” She gave a ten-second explanation of what she and Brock witnessed. “The men who brought the drugs over from Juarez are still in the woods somewhere.”

  The sheriff’s face turned red in the light of the headlights. He said to Niles, “You really messed up this time, Vernon.”

  Niles ignored the sheriff and smirked at her. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Ranger. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Not for the first time that night, Gisella developed a bad feeling in her gut. But she wasn’t here to debate the issue with him. “Pull your weapon out of the holster and give it to the sheriff.”

  The sheriff pulled his gun and pointed it at the Border Patrol agent.

  Then swung it around on Gisella and Brock. “Actually, Ranger, why don’t you and your partner drop your weapons?”

  Brock froze. Then, gun held out to his side in a non-threatening manner, swung around to face the sheriff, Niles and Chris. All three had their weapons trained on him and Gisella.

  “Well,” Brock muttered, “that explains a lot.”

  “So, you’re the ones who didn’t want us here.”

  Gisella’s words came out flat, a statement of fact loaded with disgust. Her lip curled and she still held on to her gun, finger twitching near the trigger.

  The sheriff’s “good ol’ country boy” persona disappeared as his eyes took on the consistency of chipped ice. “Don’t be stupid, Ranger. You might get off a shot, but you and your partner will be dead before you can blink.”

  Gisella gave a low sound in her throat then slowly lowered her gun to the ground at her feet.

  “Kick it,” the sheriff ordered.

  Brock tossed his and Gisella gave hers a swipe with her right foot.

  Sheriff Johnston motioned for Niles to get the weapons. The man did so while Chris kept his gun trained on them.

  On Brock.

  Brock sneered, “That area of the fence on the border, it was all set up for us, wasn’t it? Something to throw us off if we came snooping?”

  Niles grinned. “Worked, too, didn’t it?” Keeping his gun on Gisella, he yelled in the direction of the trees, “Get out here!”

  As though he’d waved a wand, the eight men from the tunnel started appearing from behind headstones and from the trees bordering the cemetery. Hard dark eyes stared at them.

  The sheriff motioned for the men to disappear back down the tunnel. “Get on back where you belong.”

  Like disturbed ants, they scuttled toward the mausoleum door and disappeared. No doubt the man who’d surprised them in the tunnel would be gone by the time he and Gisella got out of this.

  If they got out of it.

  Brock’s nerves of steel seemed to have deserted him in the face of Gisella’s danger. He wasn’t worried so much about himself, but Gisella…

  He shuddered. “What happened to Jasper West? I’m guessing he didn’t just escape. Billings helped you set it up to look like he did while in actuality, he’s probably dead. How am I doing so far?”

  The sheriff scowled. “Shut up.”

  “So what happened to him?” Brock asked.

  The sheriff’s lips twitched. “Let’s just say Jasper was expendable. More trouble than he was worth. Just like you two.”

  So Jasper was dead. Brock hated the loss of life, but the man had made the choices that had led to his end. “You’re the one who made sure the medical examiner didn’t have a chance to gather the evidence on Ina, aren’t you?”

  With an exasperated sigh, the sheriff said, “Of course. Now enough.” He looked at Chris and Niles. “Kill ’em, then get rid of the evidence.”

  Chris told the sheriff, “I’ll take care of it.” He gave a cruel smile. “It’ll be my pleasure.”

  Brock’s palms started to sweat. Gisella hadn’t moved so much as a muscle in the last couple of minutes, but her eyes weren’t still and he could almost hear her brain thinking.

  “Look…” He held out a hand and Chris’s finger curled around the trigger. “If you thought we were trouble before, you have no idea the mess you’ll create for yourself if you kill us. Plus, we’ve got backup on the way.” Uneasily, he realized a lot of time had passed. Backup should be here by now.

  The sheriff barked a laugh. “Not hardly. I got the message from my dispatcher and told her I’d handle it. I took care of your backup.” He looked at Chris. “Now do it.”

  Chris lifted a brow. “Here? I don’t think so. Get some cuffs on them and throw them in the trunk of your car. I’ll send them to the bottom of the lake and we’ll be done with them. No bodies, no blood, nothing to explain.”

  The sheriff hesitated then narrowed his eyes. “No. Do it right here, right now.”

  Chris shrugged. “Whatever.” He lifted the gun and pointed it at Gisella.

  Brock saw her brace herself even as his muscles tightened in readiness to lunge—at the man or in front of Gisella, whichever would save her life.

  Then Chris whipped the gun toward Niles and fired. Niles hit the ground with a yell. Brock didn’t allow himself to wonder or feel surprise at the sudden reprieve. From the corner of his eye, he saw Gisella dive for cover even as Brock threw himself toward the Border Patrol agent who’d dropped his gun.

  Brock’s own
weapon was too far away to attempt to retrieve, and he wouldn’t have time to go for his weapon at his ankle before Niles had his own weapon back in hand.

  Brock landed next to Niles as the man’s fingers grazed the barrel of the gun.

  “Freeze! Texas Rangers! Put down your weapons!”

  Levi. He’d gotten her text and must have acted immediately to get here so fast. Gisella heard his shouted command even as she watched the sheriff level his gun on her.

  She had no weapon and no time to grab the one she’d been forced to toss. As though in slow motion, from the corner of her eye, she saw Brock’s gun rise and take aim at the sheriff.

  The guns fired.

  Gisella launched herself behind the nearest headstone.

  Something slammed into the side of her head and blackness blanketed her.

  TWENTY-TWO

  Brock saw the sheriff stumble against the car then fall to the ground. Desperately, he scanned the area where Gisella had been.

  Nothing.

  A helicopter thumped overhead. Lights from it swept the area, illuminating it well. Siren screams rent the night and law enforcement descended. Brock saw the El Paso logo on the cruisers.

  He stumbled to the fallen sheriff and swept his gun aside. A tall, blond man with a badge pinned to his shirt—a badge that looked just like Gisella’s—helped a whining yet belligerent Niles Vernon to his feet. “I need a doctor before I bleed out.”

  “You’ll live.” The Ranger snapped cuffs on the man then said, “Hey, Evan, you see Gisella anywhere?”

  The Asian Ranger looked around and frowned. “No.”

  Brock’s worry alarm went on high alert. “Gisella?”

  No answer.

  Brock picked through the sea of faces now swarming the area. But didn’t see the one he most wanted to see.

  Where was she? He thought back to the scene. His last mental picture of her was when she’d dived behind the tombstone to his left.

  Leaving the wounded sheriff in the capable hands of the nearest Ranger, Brock searched for Gisella while his heart threatened to thump out of his chest. Two ambulances arrived, he noted absently as he rounded the next large tombstone.