Chapter Twelve
Oh crap! It really was Dalton. Here. Standing in front of me. In Mexico. “What are you doing here?”
I couldn’t read the expression on his face. Relief? Anger? Confusion?
In his typical take charge kind of way, he turned to Officer Ramón and said, “That’s her,” in a dismissive tone.
Officer Ramón nodded uncomfortably, then backed away, leaving Dalton to talk with us alone.
Dalton waited for him to move back down the hall, then turned. He glanced at Noah, his eyes on him for a brief moment, as if he’d just noticed his presence, then quickly dismissed him and zeroed in on me. “What the hell’s going on?”
“How did you know? How’d you find me?” I sucked in a breath and shook off my crazy face. “What are you doing here?” His shirt was rumpled, his jaw covered in stubble. Very unlike Dalton.
“Um, gee, that’s my question. What are you doing here?” He stood there, hands on his hips, eyebrows raised, the tendons in his neck pulled taut.
A long pause. I couldn’t tell him. Any of this. He shouldn’t be here.
He held up his cell phone. “I got your text, then nothing.”
I shook my head. “I didn’t send you a text.”
“I did.”
I spun around. Chris was awake.
With his eyes fixed on my shoes, he mumbled, “We needed help.”
I glared at him. “But Chris, Dalton can’t—now he’ll have to—” I couldn’t finish the sentence. Shit!
Dalton’s expression changed to concern when he saw Chris. The butterfly sutures stuck to his forehead in a mangled mess. Dried blood caked around them. “What happened to you?”
Chris’s hand went to his forehead. “Yeah, it was probably a shovel.”
Dalton’s eyebrows shot upward and his hands landed back on his hips. “Okay, someone start talking.”
“It’s nothing. Really,” I said. “All a misunderstanding. I’m sorry you came all this way.”
He held the phone up and read, “Rotting in a Mexican jail. Friend kidnapped. Scared shitless.”
“Okay, see that right there. I would never say scared shitless, so—”
His jaw tightened. He forced a grin. “Since I know you well enough to know you wouldn’t joke about something like that, I immediately pinged the GPS coordinates. I texted you back but your phone had died. So I hopped on the next flight. Which cost me a fortune by the way.”
“Thanks,” I said, but it came out sounding like a squeak.
“Then”—he gestured in the direction of Officer Ramón—“I get down here to be entertained by some song and dance from Bernardo Fife out there about you trafficking in wildlife. So, I’ll ask one more time. What the hell is going on!”
Chris bumped me aside. “My fiancé got kidnapped. That’s what’s going on. They say they’ll kill him if we don’t give them $500,000.”
Dalton’s eyes shot back at me.
“I’m handling it,” I muttered.
His eyebrows shot up. “Really? From this cell? Was the mud wrestling part of the plan, or was that a side thing for fun?”
I glanced down at my sticky, dirty clothes. This can’t be happening!
How many times had Dalton warned me? Told me he would only go so far? He wouldn’t lie to our superiors about me. He’d have to tell them about this. My career was over.
Chris went on. “We have no idea who took him or what to do. All we have is a ransom note.”
Dalton finally swung back around to acknowledge Noah. “And, of course, you’re involved somehow.”
Noah stood a little taller, pushed his chest out. “Doug and I came here to help out at a turtle conservation camp. That was all, until we found out—”
“Until,” Chris interrupted, “he stopped paying the bribe money, and Doug got kidnapped.”
“Hey,” Noah said. “This is not my fault.”
“Whoa, Sandy,” Dalton said. “Back the truck up. Someone’s been kidnapped because you—”
“My fiancé,” Chris said.
“That’s Doug?”
Chris nodded. “In the dark of night, on horseback.”
“Because you,” Dalton faced Noah, “were paying bribe money to keep that from happening, but then stopped?”
Noah shook his head. “Not exactly—”
Dalton held up a hand to silence Noah, then turned to me, his eyes narrowed. “Why do I already know where this is heading?”
I stepped back. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Let me guess,” he said, pinching his temples with one hand. “You decided to take matters into your own hands and went after the kidnappers, right?”
“Actually, I was the one who—”
His index finger came up, paused to silence me while he seemed to take a calming breath, then it swung around to point at Chris. “You tell me what happened. From the beginning.”
Chris started at the beginning and methodically ran through the events—about José and the students, about calling Mr. Strix, about going to see the Comandante, about following the hueveros. All the while, I could see him relax, as though now that Dalton was here, Doug would be saved, and everything would be fine. But as he spoke, the tension in Dalton ratcheted up, little by little, until his neck was red and his eyes on fire.
But you weren’t here, I wanted to scream.
When Chris got to the part where Office Ramón took us into custody, Dalton’s hand shot up again. “I’ll be right back,” he said.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
He turned his back on me and headed down the hall.
“Dalton!”
When he didn’t turn, I spun around. “How could you call him, Chris?”
He crossed him arms. “How could you not?”
“All right,” Noah said. “What’s done is done. He’s here now. Maybe he can help.”
I stomped over to the bench and plopped down. “I can’t believe this. I can’t believe you called Dalton.”
A glacier melted somewhere in Antarctica before Dalton came back.
“All right,” he said. “Officer Fife isn’t going to budge. He’s waiting on some higher up to decide something about something.”
“Great,” I said. “Sounds like you got the whole scoop.”
Dalton stared at me, deadpan, for a beat. Then said, “Where are your passports?”
“Why? What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to get you out of here.”
“How?”
“The service has contacts in Mexico City and—”
“Oh, no. No, no, no.” I pushed my hand through the bars and grabbed him by the arm. “No. Dalton, you know this isn’t what it looks like. You can’t tell anyone. I’ll be done as an agent. Listen to me—”
“Don’t make me the bad guy. You got yourself into this. I can’t control Officer Fife out there. If he files an arrest report, then it’s a done deal.”
I leaned into the bars, as close as I could get to him. “Listen to me!” I dropped my voice to a whisper. “The Comandante, he’s a known contact. I checked him out, with the agency.”
“Chris mentioned that in the rundown.”
“Maybe you could talk to him? In private? I mean, I’m not asking you to—”
Dalton shook his head. “He’s not here.”
Chris gripped the bars next to me. “What about Doug? What are you going to do about Doug?”
“I’ll take care of it,” Dalton said. “Now, how do I get to this turtle camp?”
Noah gave Dalton directions and the combination code to the safe. “Aren’t you going to write this down?” he asked. “I mean, there’re no road signs out there. You could easily get turned around in the dark.”
Dalton’s eyes pivoted toward me and I could see his annoyed restraint. He was a SEAL. This is what he did.
He looked at his watch. “Sit tight. I’ll be back in the morning.”
“Sit tight?”
“But what about
Doug?” Chris pleaded.
Dalton gave Chris a compassionate smile. “I’ll search the place for any sign of contact from the kidnappers. I promise. And I’m going to make some calls.”
Chris seemed relieved. Dalton had a way about him. He made him feel like he would take care of everything. Hell, he made me feel like everything would be all right. I hated to admit, but I was glad he was here.
Chris slumped back down on the bench, the exhaustion setting in.
Noah hung next to me.
I could see steam starting to rise from Dalton. “I’d like to talk to Poppy. Alone.” Somehow he managed to say it without moving his jaw.
Noah moved to the bench, but he wasn’t happy about it.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I didn’t mean for you to come down here. I know the risk. I never would have—”
His eyes locked onto mine and I recognized that look, without question. “I’m glad you’re all right.”
“I’m just saying that I would never ask you to risk your job. But…”
One eyebrow went up. “But?”
“But I’m glad you’re here.”
The corner of his mouth edged upward, ever so slightly.
I glanced back at Chris, then leaned closer to Dalton. “It’s bad. These are some bad men who’ve taken Doug. I don’t think it’s a simple kidnapping.”
He nodded. “I kinda figured.”
“So, what are you really going to do tonight?” I hoped he had a plan he wasn’t sharing with Chris.
“It sounds like there’s nothing that can be done until the kidnappers make contact again. Though, if kidnapping’s their main gig, they probably troll for tourists. Maybe they profile marks at that Tiki bar Chris mentioned you met at.”
Noah was back on his feet. He moved to stand beside me, slipped his hand around my waist.
I gave him a look. What was that about? I didn’t have time to deal with it right now.
To Dalton, I said, “So you’re just going to wait? Do nothing?”
His gaze flicked over to Noah, then quickly back to me. “Nothing? I’m a single guy with a free night in Mexico. Isn’t this place known for the margaritas and sexy, easy women?” He smirked. “Enjoy your stay. See you tomorrow.”
Chapter Thirteen
An hour or so passed after Dalton left before we heard a peep from anyone. It must have been around seven p.m., because the sun had gone down again, when voices came from the front office. This time, they were definitely speaking Spanish.
Footsteps clomp, clomp, clomped down the hall. Noah and I moved away from the bars. Officer Ramón appeared with two men behind him. They weren’t in uniform, though they definitely carried concealed weapons—pistols tucked in their belts at their backs. I could tell by the way their waistbands puckered.
They followed Officer Ramón, hands hanging down in front of them, crossed; they looked like henchmen. Though I admit, I didn’t have any experience with the Mexican undercover police force.
They came to a halt outside our cell.
The men’s eyes landed on me, heavy and uncomfortable. Like I was the target of some hunt, and they’d finally cornered their prey. Or maybe I was being paranoid. Being in jail had made me cagey.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
No response. The first man raised a cell phone, pointed it at us, then gave Officer Ramón a nod and they turned and left.
“What was that about?” I said to Noah. “Did he just take a picture of us?”
“No idea.”
Not a minute later, Officer Ramón came back, keys in hand, went right to the door, opened it, his eyes on me, and said, “C’mon.”
Noah got up from the bench. “Finally.”
“Just her,” Officer Ramón said with a mocking grin. He reached in, grabbed me by the arm, and tugged me through the opening, then slammed the door shut again.
“What? Why?” Noah asked.
“Why me?” Had Dalton made some progress? But certainly he’d be working for the release of us all.
The officer moved me down the hall without an answer, to the lobby, where the two men waited. “These men have questions for you.”
“Okay,” I said. This was unorthodox.
One of the henchmen grabbed me by the elbow and shoved me into one of the plastic chairs.
“Watch it, buster,” I said, yanking my arm from his grasp. I looked to Officer Ramón. “What’s going on?”
I couldn’t read the expression on his face. “These men are Policía Federales. They need to”—he paused as though trying to find the English word—“interview you about the poaching.”
“I’ve got nothing to say.” I crossed my arms. “I wasn’t poaching and you know it.”
He tapped a folder on his desk. “Says right here that you did.”
I stared at the folder. My future. My career. All hinged on what was written in that folder. Dammit. “Listen, this is all a big misunderstanding.” I started to rise from the chair, but one of the henchman blocked my way, forcing me back into the seat. “I can explain.”
The other henchman busied himself plunking at his cell phone, punching the miniature keyboard with one fat, callused finger.
“You see,” I stammered, “we were simply trying to get information. Our friend—” I stopped. Could I tell him about the kidnapping? If he was involved, he already knew. So what would it matter? If he wasn’t, maybe he could help. If he believed me.
But something wasn’t right. These men were not federal officers. Agents of the Federal Police wear dark blue combat fatigues. Not civilian clothes. Unless they were from the investigation division. But still, they wouldn’t carry their weapons tucked in their belts at their backs. Not like that.
No. No way were these two detectives.
“Confirmado,” said the one with the phone.
What was going on?
He nodded to the other man, who grabbed me by the arm again, and forced me to my feet.
“Hey, get your hands off me.”
This wasn’t right. Nothing about it made sense. These men weren’t interviewing me. And my gut told me they weren’t police. I couldn’t go with them.
But what if they were? And I resisted?
“I don’t want to be any trouble. Really, I have nothing to tell you. No information. Like I said, this is all a big misunderstanding.”
Officer Ramón stepped closer to me, his arms crossed. “Who was the man here? Why did he come?”
Dalton? He wouldn’t have told him he was a federal agent. But, what did he tell him? Crap. We’d been too busy filling him in on the kidnapping. I didn’t think to ask. What would Dalton have said he was doing here?
“Who? You mean my ex-boyfriend? He’s, like, a serious stalker.” I added an eyeroll. “He’s been following me for months. Now, all the way to Mexico. As soon as I get home, I’m getting a restraining order.”
“Boyfriend, huh?” Officer Ramón said with a heavy dose of skepticism.
“Ex-boyfriend.”
“He said he was a cop.”
Crap.
“Tried to get me to release you into his custody.”
Double crap.
The one with the phone gave a huff of impatience. “No necesitamos un cabo suelto.” We don’t need a loose end.
“Yo lo encargaré de él,” said Officer Ramón. I’ll take care of him.
Take care of him?
If Officer Ramón was mixed up with the cartel, even a cop from the U.S. would be a major threat to their operation. These men weren’t officers of the law. They were the kidnapper’s henchmen. Oh no! Dalton!
The one who had ahold of my arm wrenched it behind my back. He had a zip-tie in his other hand. He was going to bind my wrists.
Like hell.
I stepped sideways, straightened my arm, and dropped my weight, breaking his hold. With a quick spin behind, I caught his elbow, wrenched his arm, pulling him downward, and rammed his face into my knee. With the force of my hand on his forehead, h
e collapsed to the ground.
The second man was on me in an instant, but I was ready for him with a side kick to the knee. He crumpled. I pivoted, my leg up, and delivered a roundhouse to his head. He went down, out cold.
The first had recovered. Too fast. He was up and slammed me into the wall. Knocked the wind out of me. But my hands were free. I sucked in air, drew back, and slapped his ears—wham—from both sides. He staggered back, shaking his head. A punch to the solar plexus, and he slumped forward.
I grabbed for his weapon, and reached around him, training it on Officer Ramón.
He stood with his hands out in front of him, holding his weapon aimed at me.
“You want a piece of me, too?” I said holding my weapon steady, the sights on his chest.
His head shook from side to side.
My eyes glued right to his badge. Oh, crap. What am I doing?
“This doesn’t have to—you can tell them whatever you want. Just let us go.”
“I can’t do that,” he said, shaking his head some more.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” I said. It was true. Breaking out of jail was bad enough.
“You don’t understand.”
“What’s going on out there?” Noah shouted from the cell.
Officer Ramón turned his head. The break I needed. I leaped forward and collapsed his elbow, knocking the weapon from his hand. He lost balance. I pushed him down, spread eagle on the floor, and held him with my knee in his back.
He tried to buck.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” I said. “Now keep your hands out to your sides.”
He exhaled heavily and complied.
“Now hands on your head,” I said as I removed his handcuffs from his belt and snapped them onto his wrists. “Get up.”
I glanced at the two goons in a heap on the floor. I had another minute, maybe, before they came around. I relieved the second one of his weapon, too.
“Down the hall,” I said and gave Officer Ramón a shove.
As we came around the corner, Officer Ramón in cuffs, me behind him, his weapon shoved into his back, Chris’s eyes grew large. “Oh my god!”
Noah grinned like a toddler being handed a lollipop.
Operation Turtle Ransom: A suspenseful, wild-ride-of-an-adventure on a tropical beach in Mexico (Poppy McVie Mysteries Book 4) Page 13