by Rebecca Deel
“A guy came to the bar where I was working in Atlanta a couple of years ago. Asked if I wanted to make some extra cash. I was behind on some payments, so I agreed to call if a pretty girl showed up who might suit their needs.”
“Same deal in every city you’ve worked in since then?”
“Yeah.”
“The guy have a name?”
Russell snorted. “You should know better than that.”
“Description?”
“Won’t do you any good. The guy turned up dead a few weeks after I moved here.”
Jon tightened his grip on Russell’s hair. “Description?”
“White. Mid-twenties, maybe. Six foot. Carrot-colored hair.”
“Distinguishing marks so I’ll know when I’ve identified the right carrot-topped dead man.”
“Some kind of dagger tattooed on his left hand. The tip dripped blood.”
Jon’s eyes narrowed. The dripping blood off the dagger tip was the symbol associated with the Scarlett Group. In fact, the rescued women and children who had been sold by Scarlett’s Beauties each had that particular tattoo somewhere on their bodies. A mark of ownership or identification. The thought of someone marking Dana with that tattoo made him want to vent his rage on whoever might be responsible for marring her satin skin.
“Where do they take the girls, Russell?”
“I don’t know.”
Jon yanked harder on the hair in his fist and pressed the blade of the knife a little deeper.
“Ow! Hey, I’m cooperating. Aren’t I talking to you?”
“You aren’t talking enough. And I bet no one would miss your miserable hide if I let this knife do the job it’s designed to do.”
“Okay, okay. Look, I don’t know where they take the girls, honest. But I do know there’s some doctor in Murfreesboro who works with them sometimes. Checks out the girls, you know?”
“And you didn’t think that was strange? Kind of overkill for a simple roll in the hay, isn’t it?” Fury roiled in Jon’s gut. It took every ounce of control he possessed to stay his hand from slicing through the vulnerable sweat-slick flesh of Russell’s throat. If finding Dana didn’t take top priority, he might let that knife slip. Jon scowled. “If you want to live another five minutes, you better have a name or location more specific than Murfreesboro.”
“Wilson. I heard the doctor’s name was Wilson. That’s all I know. I swear.” The pitch of Russell’s voice betrayed his utter terror.
Although aggravated with the tiny amount of information he’d learned, Jon believed Russell told him the truth. He eased the knife away from the man’s throat and yanked his head back at a more painful angle, wrapped his arm around the neck and began tightening his hold, a hold one designed to cut off blood flow to the brain and render him unconscious or kill him if he tightened enough. So tempting. “If Dana is injured in any way while she’s in the hands of your friends, I will come back and find you. You don’t know the meaning of pain yet, Russell, but you will wish you had never been born before I’m through with you.”
When the man slumped, unconscious, Jon dropped him to the floor and left the apartment as silently as he’d entered.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“No way. I won’t allow it, Brenna.”
Yeah, that was pretty much the reaction Brenna had expected. A wry smile curved her lips. Good to know she still understood enough of the male psyche to predict Eli’s response. And who did he think he was to allow her to do anything? The last time she let a man help her out of a difficult situation, Ross the Rat had taken advantage of her baby sister. Not this time, even if the man was Eli Wolfe. “Nice to know you care. You, however, are not my father or my boyfriend.”
Eli frowned.
“Dana is the only family I have left in this world. I’ll do whatever it takes to free her from the Scarlett Group.”
Eli jammed his hands through his hair, paced the kitchen. “Sugar, this is a trap. You do understand that, right? These people are terrorists. They aren’t going to hand over Dana once they get her recording. She and the deliverer are dead once they get their hands on it. Your sister has been in their hands for two weeks. They can’t have kept her blindfolded this whole time.” He stopped in front of Brenna and cupped her face between his hands. ”Do you understand what I’m saying here? She can identify at least some of her kidnappers. If she’s released, Dana will be able to connect employees to the Scarlett Group. That means they can be tracked through these people. They can’t allow her to live.”
“What do you expect me to do, Eli? I won’t let her die if it’s in my power to prevent it.”
“Baby, I wasn’t suggesting that at all. You aren’t equipped to handle this kind of situation. Let me handle it with Jon and our counter-terrorist team. This is exactly the type of op we deal with on a regular basis. You can trust us. The Scarlett Group won’t know we’re there until it’s too late for them to mount an assault against us. I promise you, we’ll get Dana to safety and then they will pay. When we asked her to keep track of Sartelli, she became ours. We protect our own.”
Brenna stepped back. “No. The Scarlett Group is expecting me and, as drop-dead handsome as you are, you can’t disguise yourself as a 30-year-old romance writer. They know what I look like, Eli. I won’t take the chance with Dana’s life.”
“So you’re willing to gamble with your own life?”
“I owe her this chance at freedom.”
“Do you honestly believe Dana would want you to risk your own safety to secure hers? She loves you too much, Brenna.”
“And I love her too much to leave her in their hands when it’s within my ability to free her or at least try. I owe her. She stayed in that house with Ross so I wouldn’t give up on my dreams. She sacrificed her own happiness for me. I’m not leaving her in Scarlett Group’s hands without doing my part to get her free.” Brenna dropped onto a stool at the breakfast bar. “You’re wasting your breath. I won’t change my mind about this. Don’t you see, Eli? You’re my ace in the hole.”
“How do you figure that?” His mouth curved into a frown, one deep enough to hint how frustrating the whole conversation had turned out to be for him.
“I’m beginning to know what you are capable of, what this group you work with on the side can do, but the Scarlett Group doesn’t. They think you and Jon are two-bit gumshoes, not the elite counter-terrorist operatives I suspect you are.”
The apartment door opened and Jon closed it behind him. He paused in the doorway, looking first from Eli to Brenna and back. The tension Brenna felt in the room must have communicated itself to Jon because he said, “Do I need to come back in a couple minutes?”
“Stay,” Brenna said, her throat tight. “Eli and I won’t come to an agreement in two minutes. Maybe you can talk some sense into your partner.” She hated that she’d disappointed Eli. Somewhere over the hours of their growing friendship, what he thought of her began to matter. A great deal. The wounded former Navy SEAL was beginning to look a lot like the person she’d always dreamed of finding for a mate.
Jon’s eyebrows rose. “Sounds like heaven, but very unlikely.”
“Makes you a lot smarter than our client.” Eli folded his arms across his massive chest. “Brenna got a text from the kidnappers. They want her to deliver Dana’s recording to some warehouse off Nolensville Road in Little Mexico. At midnight, no less. Do you see the same problem I do?”
Brenna told Jon the address and waited for his response, not sure if he would take Eli’s side or her own. She hadn’t missed his flushed face when he’d heard the news about Dana. Considering Dana shut down any man’s interest and kept them at a safe distance, she wondered if maybe her sister felt something a lot stronger for Jon. All the other men who hit on her Brenna had heard about. But she never mentioned Jon. Was there something between Dana and Jon, something her sister was reluctant to discuss, maybe not wanting to vocalize the situation for fear she would jinx it?
Dana had discussed at great l
ength every man she had frozen out. Her sister worried that her feelings would remain in a deep freeze the rest of her life, but what if Jon had melted her fear of chancing a relationship? Maybe Jon was the right man for her, the one with enough patience and love to overcome her sister’s fears and well-founded concerns. Tears stung Brenna’s eyes. From what she had seen of Jon Smith so far, Dana could do a lot worse than a man whose feelings ran so deep he would risk his life to rescue her. Of that, Brenna had no doubt. Jon would take a bullet in a heartbeat if it would get Dana away from the Scarlett Group. Her beautiful sister deserved a chance at happiness and she planned to do everything in her power to help Dana get that chance.
Her gaze shifted to a still agitated Eli, his hair mussed. He had almost taken a bullet to protect her, had the bandage to prove it, and would put his life on the line as well to get Dana back. Eli seemed cut from the same steel mold as Jon. What were the chances of two men of such sterling character and necessary expertise being in the right place at the right time? Brenna sighed. Slim. Which made the men’s appearance in their lives even more of a miracle than she first realized.
Or a mistake. What if she had trusted the wrong people?
“Dangerous,” Jon said. “It’s a trap.”
“Finally. Another voice of reason.” Eli swung around to pin Brenna with his glare. “Jon agrees with me. It’s a trap, one designed to permanently rid Scarlett Group of two problems.”
“If they don’t kill you outright, we could lose you as well, Brenna.” Jon peeled black gloves off his hands. “They would still get their hands on the evidence which could end their business and capture you, too. A double bonus for the terrorists—the evidence plus two beautiful women to sell to the highest bidder.”
Nausea boiled in her stomach. The possibility of some psycho buying her on the open market as if procuring a side of beef made her want to vomit. “That’s why I have you and Eli. To make sure the bad guys don’t get away with the recording and either girl.”
“As good as we are, sugar, we can’t guarantee something won’t go wrong.” Eli closed the distance between them and pulled her into his arms. “Are you willing to put your freedom on the line, your life? What if we lose you in the human trafficking market?”
Brenna burrowed deeper into Eli’s arms, her ear pressed tight over his pounding heart. “Can’t you tag me or something? Track me somehow? Just in case.”
Eli grunted as if kicked. “You’re not a cow or a horse, Brenna. No tagging. Sure, we can plant a tracker on you. But what if we’re not in time? It could take hours or days, more time than you might have. Too much time. What if they want to sample the goods before they sell you? What if they decide you caused them too much trouble, put a gun to your head and pull the trigger? What if we can’t track you fast enough and the battery on the tracker dies? It’s too risky, baby. Don’t ask that of me.” He leaned close to her ear. “Not after what I told you about our last mission. It would gut me if anything happened to you.”
Brenna’s lips brushed his jaw with a gentle kiss. “So, don’t let them take me.”
Eli tightened his arms. “It’s not that simple.”
Jon dropped his gloves on the dining table. “Is Dana’s computer up?”
“Yes.” She inclined her head toward the back bedroom. “I was checking her emails.”
“Anything of interest?” Eli asked her.
“A message that might be from Ross. I don’t see how since he’s still in jail.” At least she thought Ross the Rat was still in jail. He might have been granted early release for good behavior. Her lip curled. She doubted her stepfather’s friend, Police Chief Frank Carter, would bother to get in touch with them if Ross had been released. Carter wouldn’t spit on either her or Dana if they were on fire. The man believed Ross the Rat innocent of any wrong doing. In his opinion, the juvenile delinquent 16-year-old had set up an innocent Ross Harrison. The good-old-boy club reigned supreme in the chief’s corner of the world.
Jon strode down the hallway out of sight, clenched fists the only sign of his struggle for control. Brenna returned to her stool at the breakfast bar, fatigued from being awake all night. She must be wrong about the message. Maybe she was so tired she was becoming loopy, going in circles just like her thoughts.
Eli’s warm, solid hands massaged the tight muscles of her shoulders. With almost uncanny accuracy, he targeted and untangled the knots. She sighed as her muscles began relaxing for the first time in days. Maybe since Dana had first called her weeks ago. “I’ll give you a month to stop. Wait, I take it back. That’s much too soon. Two months.”
He chuckled and continued his search-and-destroy mission. “You don’t know if the message is from Ross?”
“Not positive, but it sounds like him. Same drivel he’s always spouted since the day he was arrested.”
“What did the email say?”
His hot breath on her neck sent a shiver racing across her body. “He says he loves Dana and can’t understand why she rejected him, that he’s willing to forgive her and take her back. If she continues to reject him, there’ll be a price to pay.” Brenna’s head leaned back against Eli’s chest.
Eli’s hands stilled. “Think it might be from Russell instead of your stepfather?”
She closed her eyes for a moment, considered the suggestion. “It’s possible, I suppose.” The idea didn’t sound right. Neighbor Tim seemed very confident of his chances of success with Dana. Overconfident, arrogant twit. Why would he resort to threats?
Another possibility surfaced, one sure to make Eli unhappy. Brenna opened her eyes and scanned the room. They were still alone. She might not get another opportunity to talk to Eli without his partner. “What about Jon? Could he have sent Dana the message?”
His silence drew her gaze to his face. “Eli?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“Put your emotions on ice and think, Eli. It’s obvious he has feelings for Dana, but she never mentioned Jon to me.”
“She didn’t mention me, either, did she? This isn’t just gut feeling, though that is part of it. I know Jon, Brenna. He would as soon slit his own throat before he would ever harm Dana or any other woman for that matter. You don’t understand, sugar. Jon’s mom was the victim of an abusive husband. Jon’s father beat her and him on a regular basis. His childhood was filled with trips to the emergency room. I don’t know how many broken bones he had. His father was a mean drunk. Eventually he died in a drunk driving accident. Jon says it was the best day in his mother’s life.”
She considered his statements for a moment before twisting in his arms to face him. “What if you’re wrong? What if Dana rejected him like she has all the other men who showed interest in her since Ross molested her? Is it possible Jon hurt her without meaning to? Maybe her rejection triggered some kind of violent reaction and this whole thing with the postcards and text messages is a hoax to cover his trail.”
Eli’s lips quirked upward. “Been reading too many thrillers at night, sugar? Sounds like a plot to a James Patterson novel. If Jon had ever hurt Dana, either by accident or deliberate intent, he’d own up to it and take the consequences like a man. A SEAL would never behave otherwise. That’s who he is before anything else, a SEAL.”
“What about PTSD?”
Eli stilled under her hands. “What about it?”
“Could he be suffering from PTSD, maybe hurt Dana and not realize what he had done?”
“You might as well call in the cops now and turn me in along with Jon and every other military vet. Many of us deal with the realities of war long after we leave military service. A lot of employers won’t hire us because they’re afraid we’ll wig out on them and shoot the place up.” Eli’s gaze studied her face. “Are you afraid of me, too?”
Tears stung Brenna eyes. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt Eli or Jon for that matter, but she needed to chase any possible lead, no matter how painful. She hadn’t realized seeking the truth might hurt her or Eli so much. How could he
r reasoning be so circular? Not even minutes ago she wondered if she was wrong to trust Eli and Jon. Yet when he confronted her, she couldn’t name him or Jon as evil. “Never. I trust you with my life, Eli. I already have.” She lifted a trembling hand and brushed aside the stray lock of hair clinging to the bandage on his forehead. “You have the injury to prove it.” A tear escaped and trailed down her cheek.
“And I trust Jon with my life.” He caught the tear with his forefinger, his dark gaze on her face. “Do you really believe the tale you’re spinning, sugar?”
“I don’t know what to believe anymore,” she whispered. Everywhere she turned, lies and deception seemed the rule of the day. How could she trust anyone? She didn’t understand the intense feelings growing inside her for Eli, was afraid to truly believe in the emotions flaring wildly out of control in a matter of days. She didn’t know Eli or Jon, much less Dana’s boss. If she trusted the wrong person, Dana could pay with her life.
He sighed and trailed a fingertip down her cheek, traced the trail of tears now flowing down her face. “If I find out he was responsible, I’ll take him out myself. You can believe that.”
His quiet words of utter conviction sent a shiver down Brenna’s spine. Deep in her heart, she knew Eli meant every word. But would it be enough?
Jon strode back into the kitchen, a sheaf of papers in his hand. “Suit up, Wolfe. Time to roll.”
“Why are we racing down Interstate 24 before the sun comes up?” Eli checked the rearview mirror, expected to see flashing lights any time behind his Camaro. The THP loved to patrol the I-24 corridor between Nashville and Murfreesboro. He didn’t relish a fine from Tennessee law enforcement or a stint behind bars for reckless endangerment. “By the way, if I get a speeding ticket, you’re paying.”
“If you go any faster, I’ll need a barf bag,” Brenna muttered from the back, her fingers clutching Eli’s seat.
Eli reached over his shoulder and patted her hand. Her doubts about him still rankled. She was the only woman who had caused the slightest stir of interest in months, yet she didn’t fully trust him, half expecting him to be a PTSD head case. Couldn’t say that he blamed her. Maybe she wouldn’t be so doubtful about him if he hadn’t spilled his guts about not being able to sleep most nights without ghosts from the past visiting him in his dreams. He hated his leftover issues from the military, but he couldn’t change it. Time was helping some, creating a much needed distance. Talking to his dad, he knew he’d never be totally free of the ghosts.