Trouble With the Law

by Becky McGraw

  When Trace looked back up, he saw Dave studying him intently in the rearview mirror. He wasn’t looking at the road, but somehow he managed to keep it between the lines. After a few seconds he said, “I make sure we have the tools to get the job done. Sending soldiers into battle half-equipped and expecting a good outcome is just stupid. Been there, done that. Not doing it to my men.”

  Dave looked back at the road, but Trace could see the tension in his arms where he gripped the steering wheel. There was a story there, he could see that. Trace knew the signs. His own story produced the same tension inside of him. Maybe he and Dave Logan had more in common than he thought.

  A heavy seriousness settled in the atmosphere inside the van. Even Ronnie was quiet. Which was definitely saying something. She always had something to say, but she hadn’t muttered a word since they left the house.

  After an hour or so of driving, Dave said, “Tell me about those women, and what kind of condition we can expect them to be in when we rescue them.”

  “They’ll be scared,” Ronnie said.

  “Probably drugged and not perfectly coherent,” Trace added with a look at her.

  Her eyes met his and with the oncoming lights shining into the van, he saw a little fear there. That surprised him, but seeing fear in Ronnie’s eyes was comforting to Trace. Maybe she wouldn’t do anything stupid if she was scared.

  “They’ll be confused,” she said and he heard a waver in her voice.

  “I’m not waffling on helping with this, but I still can’t understand why you don’t just alert the authorities to intercept them,” Dave said with a shake of his head.

  “I feel obligated to help them,” Trace replied with a huffed breath. “I watched other groups be herded in and out of that ranch for six months. I couldn’t help those women, but I can help these. Give them a chance to get back home and maybe make a life for themselves.”

  Maybe Trace Rooks wasn’t as damaged as Ronnie thought he was. That statement said he still had the ability to care. It also made it obvious to her that there was a lot more going on inside his head than just self-preservation. The fact that he saved her from that ranch said that as well. There was hope that he would find his way back to the man he was before he was sent to prison. It would just take time, and vindication. Ronnie would help him get that if it was the last thing she ever did.

  Ronnie sighed and when Trace looked at her, she stiffened her shoulders and folded her arms over her chest. No weakness, she thought dragging her eyes to the back of Dave head. “Are we almost there yet?” she asked, impatient to get this over with so she could start working on those files.

  “Not far,” Trace replied, as the GPS unit on the dashboard announced a turn was coming up. Anticipation and a smidge of anxiety mixed inside of her.

  She was with Dave in wondering why Trace was insisting on doing this instead of alerting the police. They got anonymous tips every day from folks. Dave could have even given it to them. Instead, they were going into the woods after dark on a mission that wasn’t even their own. But Trace seemed to be determined to do this. And she wasn’t letting him go alone. Tomorrow, Conner would be at the lodge with those files. They could begin untangling this mess he had gotten both of them into.

  “I talked to Conner and he’s bringing the files to the cabin, but he’s going to be a few more days,” she said and Trace grunted. “He’s found some stuff we need to weed through, other than the files from the case. Notes that were made by the partners. Unexplained deposits from the business account into their personal accounts around the time of your trial. He had to tread lightly to get that information, so that’s why he was delayed.”

  That got his attention. Trace shifted in the seat and turned toward her. “He’s digging into their bank accounts too? How’s he getting that information?”

  “Don’t ask, don’t tell,” Ronnie said with a short laugh.

  Conner was sticking his neck out, going into the office after midnight when he knew nobody else would be around. And he was being careful not to leave a trail that he’d been there. He sounded terrible the last time she’d talked to him this morning. She didn’t think he’d slept since he left the cabin the other night.

  “Your friend better be careful,” Dave said glancing at her in the rearview.

  “He’s covering his tracks. We need that information.” And she trusted Conner to get it discreetly. She’d only thought of getting that information to cross check last night when they talked.

  Ronnie figured the financial records might be a road map to the dirty dealings if they could tie irregular disbursements into the files he was bringing out. The rest he would have to get from the courthouse during regular business hours. To get checking account information on the other players, they would need a court order, but this was a start, and Ronnie hoped it would lead to having enough evidence to do that.

  Suddenly, the GPS signaled they needed to make a U-turn and Trace sat forward to lean into the space between the front seats. “You missed the turn back there. It’s not marked. It’s an old oilfield road and goes back pretty far into the woods. One way in and one way out,” he said somberly.

  “That’s not good,” Dave replied as he slowed the van to a crawl, before he swung the van to make the U-turn.

  Trace tensed. “I know, but it is what it is. We probably should park somewhere and walk in. That way if something happens, we’re not trapped.”

  “Great,” Dave replied tersely. “I smell goat shit.”

  A goat fuck. Since his stint in the Marines, Ronnie had heard Dave use that term often. What it meant in this case scared her. Dave thought things might go south, and they’d all be in a world of trouble before this night was over. That’s all Ronnie needed. She should have insisted they forget about this stupidity. Trace didn’t need more trouble, and neither did she. They should have stayed at the damn cabin. Now, not only was he in danger, she was too, and so was Dave and his men. Yes, Ronnie thought those women deserved to be rescued, but not at the expense of one of their lives.

  “Pass the road. There’s another short dirt road on the opposite side a mile or so down, where you can pull off and hide the van. That’s where I hid my bike the night I followed Ray out here.”

  Dave turned the van sharply and Ronnie slid into Trace’s side on the bench seat. She gritted her teeth as the van bounced over the rutted road. A moment later she was engulfed in blackness as he drove further into the woods.

  “How the hell are we going to see out here?” Ronnie asked.

  “You don’t need to see, because you’re staying in the van,” Trace replied firmly.

  “Like hell I am.” It was dark, and there were bad men around here. She’d be safer with either Trace or Dave. Even if they were in the woods with all kinds of creepy crawlies and wild animals. “You’re not leaving me out here alone.”

  “We’ll leave you a gun,” Trace said.

  “I can’t shoot.” Ronnie didn’t want to learn how either. Guns scared her almost as much as the animals she knew were out there in the woods.

  “I have a taser I’ll leave with you. It’s point and shoot,” Dave said.

  “No thank you. I’d probably shoot myself with it,” Ronnie grumped. “I’ll just go with ya’ll.”

  “No!” both men shouted at once then looked at each other, as Dave killed the engine. Trace reached over and slid open the side door of the van. Before he could stop her, Ronnie scrambled outside and stood beside the van. A mosquito immediately bit her neck, and she slapped it.

  “Get back in the van, Red,” Trace growled as he got out. Caleb came out behind him, then both men stood there staring at her. Once her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could clearly see that he was pissed. And determined.

  Well she could be just as determined. And obstinate.

  Ronnie folded her arms over her chest. “No,” she replied.

  “Get your stubborn ass back in the van, Red,” Trace gritted out through his teeth.

  “You’
re not leaving me here,” Ronnie said flatly lifting her chin. “I’ll be safer if I’m with ya’ll.” And she wouldn’t have to be sitting out here wondering what the heck was going on out there in the woods.

  Dave walked around the front of the van and Jamie got out of the passenger side, then all the men stood there staring at her. The air around her practically hummed with testosterone and alpha male attitude. Ronnie took her ski mask out of her pocket, removed her hat, then pulled the black knit cap down over her head. She tucked her hair into the collar of her shirt, and shoved the other hat into the pocket of her pants.

  Ronnie heard a collective growl, but ignored it. The knit cap was itchy on her face, and hot, but she wasn’t about to let them know she was uncomfortable. “Stop wasting time and let’s get going,” she grumbled folding her arms over her chest. “I can argue til the cows come home, ask Dave. I don’t give a damn if you miss that Coyote or not.”

  Dave gave it one more try. He stepped forward and handed her a weapon. “This is a taser. Just point the tip where you want the leads to go and push this button. I guarantee you this thing will bring down an elephant. You don’t need to be scared.”

  “I’m not scared,” Ronnie said pinching her lips. She tucked the device into her pocket, folded her arms over her chest and met Dave’s eyes. “Because I’m going with you.”

  It wasn’t up for negotiation. If something happened out there in the woods, like the tingles at the back of her neck and the dread in her stomach told her it was, Ronnie wanted to be there. Even if they didn’t have another set of capable hands by bringing her, at least they’d have a logical brain among them.

  And she wouldn’t be alone.

  The men looked at each other, Dave shrugged then Trace growled, “Fine, you’re with me then. And you better not cause me trouble or I’ll shoot you myself.”

  “Not if I tase you in the balls, you won’t.”

  “Fuck,” Trace spat looking at Dave.

  Dave shook his head, and she thought she heard a chuckle as he walked past her to lead them down the narrow dirt road toward the street.

  By the time they reached the drop off point across the street, they had walked about two miles into the woods. Ronnie was sweating profusely under the ski mask. Her face itched, and the temperature under the mask had to be at least three hundred degrees. Sweat trickled down the back of her neck and slid between her shoulder blades. The size-too-small boots she found in the closet felt a size smaller even. The men with her didn’t seem to be bothered though, and she wasn’t going to let them know she was either.

  “I’m taking Caleb and we’re going to work around to the other side of the clearing,” Dave whispered. “Jamie, you set up at the end behind those rocks. Trace you and Ronnie cover this side. Once you get settled put on your com device and night vision, but try to keep radio silence as much as possible.”

  Dave outlined the plan, then instructed them on hand signals they would use to communicate different scenarios, situations and actions. Ronnie paid rapt attention, but her head was spinning when he finished. Trace just nodded as if he understood perfectly, like this were an everyday thing to him.

  Ronnie would just have to make sure she stayed close to him, because she sure wasn’t going to remember all that. And she didn’t know what the hell night vision was. They had given her a taser, but nothing else, and this cloak and dagger stuff definitely wasn’t her forte. Give her a courtroom and a convict and she was a superstar. A commando-type nighttime rescue mission? Not so much.

  “We shouldn’t even be out here,” Ronnie said in a rushed whisper as Trace led her to the edge of the trees so they could watch the big clearing.

  “Don’t give me grief, Red. Just keep your head down and keep quiet!” Trace hissed back, as he fell to his knees behind a tangle of brush.

  He unzipped the backpack he brought with him and pulled out heavy-looking goggles and slid them over the ski mask fitting them over the eye holes. He pulled out an earpiece with a skinny wire attached then shoved it under his mask, and arranged the wire by the mouth hole in the mask.

  “I want one of those,” Ronnie said sitting beside him.

  “Too bad, we don’t have a spare. You’re with me, so you won’t need it anyway. Now, shut the hell up. They should be here in a few minutes.”

  Ronnie watched with interest, as Trace inspected his weapon, sighted it into the clearing, then rested it across his lap. After a few minutes, she heard the hum of an engine. Every muscle in her body tensed as bright headlights suddenly lit up the clearing. Trace tensed beside her too when a long, black, windowless van slowly rolled into the clearing and stopped by the rocks where Jamie was hidden.

  After a minute, the driver’s door opened and a dark shadow moved around the front of the van. He walked into the beam of the headlights, and Ronnie saw a very rough-looking Latino man, dressed in combat fatigues with a huge weapon strapped over his chest. He leaned negligently back against the van and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He lit a cigarette and it glowed red. The smoke as he exhaled filtered into the headlights in ghostly fingers. Another man got out of the passenger side and joined him, lighting a cigarette too.

  The two men didn’t seem to be tense at all. Considering the size of the weapons they had, Ronnie could understand that. Unease worked its way through her body, and she glanced at Trace. The seriousness of this situation suddenly became clear to her. One of them could die tonight. This wasn’t a simple grab and run. If they wanted the women who were probably trapped in the back of that van, they were going to have to fight these men to take them. And Ronnie was going to be in the middle of that fight. Maybe she should have listened and stayed in the van.

  Tense silence settled around them, as Trace stared intently at the two men talking and laughing at the front of the van. Their animated waves were punctuated by the glow at the end of their cigarettes. Except for the agitated chirp of the crickets and night creatures in the woods, nothing broke the silence in their hiding place, until Trace suddenly whispered, “Copy.” He eased up to his feet and Ronnie’s stomach danced as she stood too. His large hand dropped on her shoulder and he shoved her back down. “Stay here,” he said quietly.

  “Like hell,” she whispered back as fear shot through her. Ronnie got her balance and tried to stand again.

  “Stay here!” he hissed, shoving her back down.

  Ronnie would have protested, but he took off too quickly and disappeared through the trees. A chill skated down her spine, and she hugged herself. She looked back into the clearing and squinted to see that the men were stubbing out their smokes. They shifted their guns to their backs, then walked together to the back of the van and opened the doors.

  A few minutes later small shadows moved at the back of the van and there was a flurry of activity. The night sounds in the woods went quiet. Ronnie’s ears honed in on whimpers that echoed across the clearing. They sounded almost like sounds agitated kittens might make and were followed by stern shouts in Spanish.

  Ronnie could hear the angry male voices echoing across the clearing. Move bitch. On your knees over there, or I’ll shoot you whore.

  Shoulders hunched, the poorly dressed women walked single file into the clearing then dropped to their knees. It was dark, but Ronnie quickly figured out why the ten or so women had walked single-file when she heard chains clinking. They were chained together like slaves. The mission here tonight suddenly didn’t seem so unnecessary to her.

  Those women were slaves. And they were chained just like she had been at the Diamond Bar ranch. She wouldn’t doubt they were drugged too. All of the other shackles around that room suddenly made sense now. This was how women who were trafficked were treated. Like animals. Chattel. Disposable property. And that pissed her off.

  No wonder Trace had been so adamant about coming out here tonight. Any human being with even half a heart would find it abhorrent. If regular people were aware of exactly what human trafficking meant, she was sure they would be doing more to
stop it.

  Trace had seen this for six months at that ranch and couldn’t do a damned thing to help these women. It had to have driven him crazy. Ronnie had just been exposed to it for six minutes now, and she was feeling that way. Hearing about human slavery was one thing. Actually seeing it firsthand was quite another. Whatever she had to do, she was going to help Trace help these women. Ronnie was just glad Dave was here, because other than helping him communicate with them, she didn’t know what she could do.

  Something moved out of the shadows across the clearing and darted toward the rocks then disappeared. Another shadow followed, and Ronnie figured out that must be Dave and Jamie getting into position. Something was about to happen. She wished she knew what that was. If they had given her a damned radio she might know.

  Suddenly the two men’s attention swung to the trees on Ronnie’s side of the clearing. Adrenaline shot through her veins and her heart kicked hard in her chest. The men stiffened, then grabbed for their weapons. Trace’s stern voice stopped them. In broken Spanish, he shouted, “We have you surrounded Throw down your guns and put your hands up.” They jerked their weapons up and he cautioned tersely, “ Easy, or you’re dead.”

  Both men slid the strap of their weapons over their head then bent over and laid them at their feet. “Kick them away,” Trace ordered.

  They toed the big guns, but didn’t kick them as Trace instructed. Ronnie heard a metallic click resonate on the night air from somewhere behind the van. The men jumped and quickly shoved the weapons away from them with the toe of their boots. Trace moved out of the woods and into the beam of the headlights. Jamie scrambled down the rocks on his butt, then edged around the van to stand beside him. Both had their weapons pointed at the men.

  A twig snapped behind her, and before Ronnie could scream a beefy hand clamped down over her mouth and a strong arm closed around her waist. Ronnie struggled but couldn’t break his iron grip that was holding her arms at her sides. She heard a sound like the sound she’d heard behind the van and a chill left goosebumps on her skin as it skated along her nerves. Someone had cocked a gun and she had no doubt they would use it if she kept resisting. Her body stilled, and her captor removed his hand and stepped back from her. Ronnie spun around and saw there were three men, not one there. All of them were heavily armed, and none had covered their dark-skinned faces.