by Terri Reed
Dread squeezed Carter’s chest. “I didn’t see them or the hotel security.”
Noah’s jaw firmed. “We’ll search the building for them. And pray they are alive.”
Frustration beat a steady pulse through Carter’s veins. “Rachelle said something about a trucking company that Miles’s company owns stock in.”
“That’s something,” Noah said. “Did she give you the name and location?”
“No. But it would be on her computer in her hotel room.”
He whirled and raced into the hotel with Frosty at his heels.
At the elevator, Carter jammed his finger on the call button as he heard Noah saying to the others, “Find the doorman, the security guards and the local officers who were sent to this location. Check the hotel’s video and get it to Danielle so we can identify Miss Clark’s kidnappers.”
The elevator arrived, the door sliding open. Carter and Frosty entered. Before the doors could close, Reed and his dog, Jessie, stepped inside.
“I can’t let you go through this alone, man,” Reed said.
Appreciating his friend’s support, Carter nodded, not sure he could speak without his voice revealing the fear tearing him up inside. What if he didn’t reach Rachelle in time? What if he lost her, too?
He couldn’t take another death of someone he... He couldn’t finish the thought.
On the twenty-fourth floor he stepped out of the elevator and ran down the hall to Rachelle’s room. The door hung off its hinges. His heart lurched. He remembered the horrifying sound of the door busting open and Rachelle’s screams. He shuddered as nausea roiled through him.
Letting his emotions get the better of him wouldn’t help Rachelle. Determined to keep focused on doing the job, he entered the room with Frosty. The dog sniffed the carpet. Behind him, Reed and Jessie entered.
Rachelle’s laptop wasn’t on the desk by the window. He opened the closet and the drawers of the dresser. “Her computer isn’t here.” He snapped his fingers. “The thumb drive. She hid one somewhere in here.”
The desk chair had been pulled to the center of the room. Her cell phone was on the charger, plugged in to the outlet on the desk. The hotel phone lay on the floor.
While Reed searched under the bed and between the mattress and box spring, Carter circled the chair. Why was this here? He tilted his head back and eyed the vent in the ceiling. Would she have hidden the device there?
He stepped onto the chair and probed at the vent. She could have shoved the USB between the slats. He dug into his duty belt for his multitool. He used the screwdriver portion of the versatile tool to undo the screws holding the vent plate in place. When he removed the plate, a small, silver memory stick fell to the floor. Frosty sniffed at it and whined, no doubt picking up Rachelle’s scent from the device.
Picking up the thumb drive, Carter said, “We have to get this to Danielle.”
* * *
Rachelle wasn’t surprised when the sedan pulled into the gravel driveway of Smith’s Trucking Company in Flushing. The same company that Miles Landau owned stock in. She sent up a prayer that Carter would make Thug Two tell them where to find her. She only wished she’d told Carter where she’d hidden her thumb drive in case Thug Two refused to talk.
Sitting in the back seat next to Thug One, who kept his gun pressed into her side, she looked for possible escape routes as a metal gate closed behind the car. They had passed through an industrial area until they reached the compound, which had a high chain-link fence covered over with sheets of corrugated metal preventing anyone from seeing inside. A dozen large hauling trucks were parked in two rows of six. A building near the front looked like the company office.
If Rachelle managed to get away from her captors she could hide in the trucks or go to the office for help. But would she find help there? Most likely Thug One would only catch her or shoot her as she ran or tried to climb the fence. And she doubted there was anyone on the other side to hear her screams. They were pretty isolated at this far end of the borough.
“It’s not too late.” She sat forward to address the driver, who’d yet to say a word. “You could let me go. The police know about this place. They’ll be here any minute and y’all will go to jail.”
Thug One yanked her back as the car rolled to a halt. His wide-set eyes held anger in their depths. “When we’re done with you, there won’t be anything left for the police to find. Now shut up.”
A shiver of terror coursed over her skin at his ominous words. She was hauled unceremoniously out of the sedan. Rocks dug into her bare feet as she was pushed toward a metal building at the back of the property. Biting back yelps of pain, she lurched through the door behind the thug who’d driven them here. The smooth, concrete floor eased the pain in her feet as Thug One continued to poke at her with his gun. She wished Frosty had taken another bite out of the man.
The door clanked closed behind them. Musty and humid, the heat of the day would have been suffocating if not for the large fan whirling overhead, the noise bouncing off the walls. Sunlight filtered through the grimy windows, illuminating the large space. Large crates, stacked two and three high, lined the opposite wall. In the center of the building sat a man at a metal desk. She recognized Miles Landau from the pictures in his police file.
Sweat beaded his bald head. He steepled his hands and stared at her, his dark eyes unnerving. “So you’re the pain in my neck. I wanted to see you for myself. You’re just a slip of a thing yet so hard to get rid of. Do you have any idea of the trouble you’ve caused me?”
Thug One shoved her forward. She stumbled a few steps. “Trouble?”
“Yes. My buyers have become nervous from all your snooping.” He gestured to the crates. “Now I’m stuck with product I can’t move. All because you’ve been poking around into my life.”
“You’re back to selling drugs,” she said.
Miles barked out a laugh. “I’ve moved up in the world.” He waved a hand toward the crates. “Show her.”
“Boss, I think that’s not a good idea,” Thug One said.
Miles glared at him. “I don’t pay you to think.”
The driver of the sedan moved to one of the crates and slid the lid off to reveal multiple weapons inside.
“You’ve become an illegal arms dealer.” That wasn’t what had led her to investigate him. “Did you kill Chief Jordan Jameson?”
He narrowed his gaze. “I heard about his death. I can’t say I’m too sad as he’s the reason I went to prison, but—” he shrugged “—I also would thank him since that’s where I made the contacts to start my new business.”
Unsure that she believed his protest, she clarified, “Are you saying you didn’t kill him?”
“Not me,” Miles said. “Is that why you’ve been snooping into my life? You thought I offed Jameson?”
“You were released only a few days before his death,” she said. “You vowed revenge at your trial.”
“True. And unfortunate timing, but I didn’t kill him.” He rose. “However, I won’t be able to say the same of you.”
Another wave of fear crashed through her. “The police know about this place.”
“She’s been claiming that all the way here.” The driver finally spoke.
“We should just do away with her now,” Thug One insisted. “I’ll gladly do the deed on behalf of Attilo.”
Rachelle thought about the man who now sat in jail after failing to take her at the fund-raising event.
“We can’t take the chance that she told the police about this place, too,” Miles said. “We have to move. We’ve already lost the warehouse and the inventory there.” He shook his head. “All my hard work destroyed.” His lip curled. “I was going to take my time killing you, but now we’re in a hurry. Ken, take her out back and don’t leave anything for the vultures to take away.”
“Gladly.” Thug One,
Ken, bared his teeth at her like a rabid dog.
She shrank back. “Please, Miles. Don’t make things worse for yourself. Killing me isn’t going to solve anything.”
“Maybe not,” Miles said. “But it will send a message to anyone else who tries to mess with me and my operation.” He made a rolling gesture with his finger. “Get moving.”
* * *
Danielle had no trouble accessing the thumb drive’s information. Carter grabbed the address of the trucking company and hustled out of headquarters with Reed and Jessie to very end of Flushing where Smith’s Trucking was located. They pulled to a stop outside the ten-foot-high chain-link fence lined with sheet metal. Stacking behind them were Noah with Luke Hathaway and Tony Knight along with Carter’s youngest brother, Zach.
They gathered at Noah’s vehicle. “We’ll need bolt cutters,” he said, eyeing the fence. “That metal looks thin. Easy to bend.”
“Sure hope it’s not electric,” Luke said.
Carter grabbed a handful of dirt and threw it at the fence. No sparks ignited. “Nope.”
“I’ve got a set in my rig.” Tony peeled away.
“Me, too,” said Reed.
“Good. I do, too,” Noah said. “Zach, you go with Tony and take the west side of the compound. Luke and I will take the east.” Noah looked at Carter. “You and Reed head to the back.”
“What if they come out the front?” Zach asked.
Noah pointed to the NYPD cruisers pulling up. “Those guys will be waiting to take whoever comes out into custody. They have a stake in arresting Miles, too. The officers that had been dispatched to Rachelle’s hotel, along with the hotel security, were found unconscious and tied up in the janitor’s closet. One of the officers has a concussion.”
Carter was relieved to hear the men were alive.
After retrieving their dogs, the K-9 Unit dispersed.
Carter lifted a prayer they weren’t too late to save Rachelle as he and Frosty took off with Reed and Jessie close behind. He kept an eye out for video surveillance equipment but didn’t see any.
They reached the back of the compound. Reed cut through the chain-link fence and bent back the sheet of metal and they found themselves facing the backside of a metal outbuilding. They squeezed through, keeping the dogs close.
A low growl emanated from Frosty. Carter gave him the hand signal for silence.
Carter peered around the building, his heart stuttering to a stop at the sight of Rachelle being manhandled by a large, beefy guy—the same guy who’d abducted her from the hotel. He was attempting to drag her toward the fence, but she wasn’t making it easy.
Relief that she was still alive and fighting lifted Carter’s spirits.
Drawing his weapon, Carter whispered to Reed, “Cover me.”
Reed nodded and withdrew his weapon.
Keeping a tight hold on Frosty, Carter stepped out from around the back of the building. “Let her go.”
The assailant stilled with one arm wrapped around Rachelle’s waist. With his other hand, he reached behind him and produced a gun, which he shoved into her rib cage. “Don’t come any closer,” he yelled. “I’m taking her with me.” He pulled her toward the closest haul truck.
“There’s nowhere for you to go,” Carter told him. Frosty strained at his lead. “You have nowhere to run.”
The door of the metal building banged open and a man came out holding an AK-47 semiautomatic rifle.
“Halt,” Reed called as he aimed his weapon at the newcomer.
Without warning, the man holding Rachelle aimed and fired at Carter. The retort of the gun echoed through Carter’s head as white-hot pain tore through his leg.
“No!”
Rachelle’s cry sliced through Carter’s heart. He buckled, going down hard to the ground, losing his hold on Frosty. “Go,” he said.
The dog rushed forward.
From all around there were shouts as the K-9 team and officers of the NYPD flooded the compound, quickly subduing the man and leading Miles Landau out of the metal building.
And yet Rachelle’s captor refused to give up. He held the gun to her head and backed away. Frosty followed, barking and lunging, but the man was too adept at using Rachelle as a shield.
“Drop your weapon,” Noah shouted.
“No way. I’m a dead man if I do,” the guy shouted. “She’s my ticket out of here.”
Carter fought through the agony burning his leg. Using what remained of his energy, Carter lifted his weapon. He met Rachelle’s terrified gaze. He prayed she’d understand as he yelled, “Drop!”
Trained to follow the command, Frosty dropped to his belly. A fraction of a second later, Rachelle went limp in the man’s arms, creating an opening.
Fearing for Rachelle and knowing in his heart of hearts that he couldn’t fail her now, Carter made a difficult choice and fired, striking the man square in the chest. The man crumpled to the ground and Rachelle was free.
Drained, Carter flopped onto his back and stared at the blue sky overhead.
Then Rachelle and Frosty were at his side. Her lavender scent filled his head. Her soft hands soothed his fevered brow. She gathered him in her arms. Frosty whined and licked Carter’s cheek. He wanted to reassure them both he was all right. It would take more than a bullet to the leg to do him in. Yet, he couldn’t form words. His tongue felt thick. His brain fogged like a window in winter. A chill passed over him. Fire licked at the wound in his leg.
From a distance, he heard Rachelle’s sweetly accented voice calling to him. “Stay with me. Please, Carter. Don’t you dare leave me.”
I won’t. The thought flittered through him. Lie or truth?
He didn’t know. He couldn’t hold on to the light. Darkness pulled, the allure of oblivion, where there’d be no more pain. No more heartache.
But Ellie! Rachelle!
They needed him. He fought to stay in the light, to stay with her, but the last of his strength ebbed into the gravel beneath him.
Darkness settled in, scrubbing the edges off the pain as he lost sight of Rachelle’s tearstained face.
FIFTEEN
“Help him!” Rachelle held Carter half on her lap. His head lolled to the side, his eyes closed. There was so much blood on the ground, seeping into the earth from the bullet wound just above his knee. She pressed her hands against his leg, but crimson liquid oozed through her fingers. Her heart stalled out. They were going to lose him.
An ambulance siren split the air.
Hurry, hurry, she silently urged. Please, dear God, don’t let him die.
Noah rushed to her side. He placed his hands over hers on his brother’s leg. “The medics are here.”
Two paramedics knelt down beside Carter, nudging her aside. She watched helplessly as they checked his vitals, dressed his wound, stuck an IV in his arm. With Noah’s help, the medics moved Carter onto a gurney. She scrambled to her feet and stayed at his side as the men carried him to the back of the ambulance.
“I’m going with you,” she told them, and climbed inside the back as Carter was loaded inside. Frosty jumped in with her.
The medic frowned. “Ma’am, that dog can’t—”
“It’s okay,” Noah told the guy. “Let them both go with you.” He met her gaze. “When you get to the hospital, call my parents.”
She took a shuddering breath as the weight of responsibility and trust being placed on her settled around her like a heavy blanket. “I will. I promise.”
He nodded. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
The door of the ambulance shut and the van rolled out of the trucking company parking lot. Through the small windows in the back doors, she saw a handcuffed Miles and his minions being led to a cruiser.
Frosty leaned against her and put his paw on the gurney as if the dog needed to touch his master. She understood.
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Carter lay so still. His face was ashen, his lips tinged blue from lack of blood. Her heart lurched.
She gathered Carter’s hand in hers. His palm was clammy. She smoothed a hand over his brow as she silently prayed for his survival. Frosty set his snout on her knee as if he sensed her prayers.
When they reached the hospital, medical personnel whisked Carter away, leaving her and Frosty to quickly follow. Her hand tightened around Frosty’s lead as the adrenaline of the day seeped away and tears streamed down her face. Furiously she wiped at them. She had to call the Jamesons. She needed to find a phone.
“Miss?” A nurse—Sue, her name tag read—drew Rachelle’s attention. “You’re bleeding.”
“What?” She looked down at her clothes. Carter’s blood stained the fabric. Her breath stalled. “It’s not mine.”
“Your feet.”
Glancing at the floor, she noted a trail of blood leading to her bare feet. In the chaos, she’d forgotten about her feet. “Oh.” She dismissed her own need for care with a shake of her head. “I need to make a phone call.”
“Let me tend to your feet, then you can make your call.” Nurse Sue took her to an exam room. “Are you with the police?” She gave Frosty a wary glance.
“Uh, not me. He is, though,” Rachelle said as Frosty stared at them. She reached out and he nuzzled her hand. His vest had splotches of blood embedded in the gold lettering. “His handler was just brought in. I have to call his family.”
“You don’t want to get an infection in your foot. Let’s get this done. I’m not going to lie—this might hurt.” Nurse Sue treated her feet for a couple of minor cuts, picking out bits of gravel before bandaging the wounds. Emotionally overwrought, Rachelle hardly felt the nurse’s ministrations.
Nurse Sue helped Rachelle into a pair of socks and disposable slippers.
Slipping off the exam table, her feet hit the floor with a sting but she ignored the discomfort. “Is there a phone I can use?”
“This way.”