As the truck inched closer to the center of Wilshire Park, the nervousness that had been coiling through his stomach intensified. Please, God. Let everything be okay.
His cell phone rang. He checked the caller ID and quickly answered. “Hi, hon. Are you at the hospital?”
“Yeah, I just parked my car and am heading inside. Where are you?”
“Less than ten minutes away. I’m stuck in traffic.”
“I worried about that,” she said. “There’s construction on Elm Street, along with an accident.”
Of course there’d be both construction and an accident. “Well, the traffic is moving along now. I’ll make it with plenty of time. But you’ll definitely be on soccer duty. I had to skip going through your dream neighborhood and will have to do some serious backtracking.”
“I don’t mind dealing with soccer. I’m just glad you’re going to make it on time,” she said, and he caught the worry in her voice.
“We’re going to be just fine.”
“Vin, you don’t know that. What if—”
“No what ifs. I love you and besides, we’re awesome parents. That’s how I know we’re going to be fine. Okay?”
“You wouldn’t say that if you saw Benny munching on cat food earlier.”
He chuckled. “The boy knows what he likes.”
“If you say so,” she said and it warmed him to hear a smile in her voice. “I’ll let you go. I’m heading into the office. Love you.”
He ended the call and dropped the phone in his lap. Then swore again when the traffic stopped moving. At this point, he could probably park the truck and sprint the rest of the way to the hospital. Drumming his thumbs along the steering wheel, he looked to the clock on the dash again. Two thirty-eight. Damn it. If the traffic didn’t pick up, he’d do just that. Park and run.
The cars in front of his truck began inching forward. With the truck higher than a regular vehicle or SUV, he saw a side street up ahead. Perfect. Fifty or so more feet and he’d turn down the street and avoid the accident and construction. No matter what, he’d make the ultrasound.
Nothing could stop him.
*
Norfolk, Virginia
3:38 p.m. Eastern Daylight Saving Time
Dante drove the rusted pickup truck they’d bought off the maintenance guy they met at the airstrip. With over three hundred thousand miles, the 1983 Dodge Ram was probably worth seven hundred dollars—if that. Dante had paid fifteen hundred. But renting or having a rental company drop a vehicle at the airstrip hadn’t been an option. They weren’t supposed to be in Norfolk and hadn’t wanted to raise suspicions. He’d suggested they steal something and reimburse the owner later, but then Dante ran into the maintenance guy and now they were the proud owners of a piece of shit.
Jake checked his Colt Delta Elite, then slipped the pistol into its leather holster.
“I thought Ian gave you a Glock,” Dante said, as he checked the GPS and made a turn.
Naomi had given him the pistol the Christmas before she’d left him. “He did. But I like my Colt. It has sentimental value.” Jake raised his hips and slipped several magazines into the back pocket of his jeans. He glanced at his phone propped on the cracked dashboard. “Looks like they stopped at—shit. I can’t tell what the hell street. Is there a map in here?” He flipped open the glove box and found a bunch of empty cans of tobacco.
As Dante turned left, he hit the speed dial on his cell phone and handed it to Jake. “Get Rachel on it.”
Jake put the phone on speaker as soon as she answered. “Where are we heading?” he asked.
“I’ve got her location pulled up on an aerial map. Looks like the driver’s pulled into an old warehouse. Hang on, let me check it.” As she tapped away, Jake’s chest tightened with impatience. The GPS chip indicated Naomi wasn’t on the move anymore.
“Got it,” Rachel said. “The building belongs to BH-Xpress, but is no longer in use.”
“Not according to the GPS.”
“Right. What’s your location?”
“Forty-third and Lexington,” Dante said, slowing the truck.
More tapping came across the line. “Okay, go one block, then hang a right onto Monticello. Take that for a mile until you hit East Fifty-Fifth. Make another right. You’ll see a Laundromat on the left. Park in the back. From there you’re about one hundred yards from the warehouse. You can use the back of the buildings next to the Laundromat for cover.”
Dante made the turn onto Monticello. “Will this GPS chip show which floor of the building Naomi is being held?”
“Unfortunately, no. Remember, this is a prototype. But the main thing we need is the general location, which we have. Now we just need you inside the warehouse.”
What they needed was to storm the place and put a bullet into Hunnicutt’s head. “I’ll send a text when we’re inside.” Jake ended the call and handed Dante his phone.
“Reach in the duffle bag,” Dante said. “I brought you a knife.”
Jake pulled up both legs of his jeans. “Got a knife and a gun. I’m good.” He let go of his pant legs, leaned forward and tapped the dash. “There’s East Fifty-Fifth.” He pointed. “And the Laundromat.”
Dante made a quick left, slowed the Ram and pulled into a parking lot filled with gravel and potholes. The backdoor of the Laundromat had been boarded shut. More plywood had been hung from the inside, while broken glass remained in the windows. The worn brick was covered with graffiti. Garbage, broken bottles and beer cans lined the back of the building. Looking to his left, Jake saw much of the same.
After climbing out of the truck, Jake moved to the back of the Laundromat. Dante came alongside him, and they both eased their way down the narrow path between buildings. Jake’s boots crunched over more broken glass and trash. The rancid odor of shit and piss hit him from all angles. When they reached the sidewalk, he stopped and peered around the corner of the building. “Rachel’s right. The warehouse is about one hundred yards from here.”
“He’s chosen a good place to do his business,” Dante said. “No one would think Hunnicutt is using the warehouse or coming within ten feet of this area. There’s also no telling what kind of security he’s using.”
“We’ve got the main entrance, which doesn’t look worth the effort with the boards and chain lock, and then the dock entrance. But if the gate’s wired to a security system, that could be a problem.”
Dante opened his coat and pulled out a mini bolt cutter. “It’s hard to tell if the fence is electric or not. If it isn’t, we’ll cut it.”
Jake stared at the other weapons and gadgets on Dante’s belt. “Where do I get one of those?”
“Home Depot.”
“I meant the Batman utility belt.”
“Home Depot.”
He rolled his eyes, then said, “Let’s go back the way we came. Follow the buildings along the rear until we’re diagonal from the warehouse dock. Looked like there were houses next to the last building. We can cross from there.”
Nodding, Dante sprinted back down the narrow alley. As Jake ran behind him, he hoped to God they could find a way inside the warehouse without alerting Hunnicutt. He wanted the element of surprise. Even more, he wanted to be able see or at least hear Naomi. Hunnicutt was a sick, crazy bastard. If the man had no qualms about murdering hundreds of innocent people to gain what he wanted, what would he do to Naomi? Then again, because Hunnicutt had spent years looking for her and took the risk of setting off bombs across the country, he might not do anything to her right away. Later, though—
He picked up the pace and ran past Dante. He couldn’t think about later. Instead, he had to hope like hell that they gained the necessary evidence in time to haul Naomi out of the warehouse. Stopping where the buildings ended and dilapidated houses began, Jake squatted behind a rusted dumpster. “Are the handles of your bolt cutter plastic?”
Dante checked the tool. “Yeah, why?”
“We’ll use that to test if the fence is electri
c.”
“You know this how?”
“And here I thought you SEALs knew all the tricks.” Jake kept watch on the warehouse. “My dad taught me when I was a kid. You touch the metal part of the bolt cutter closest to the plastic handle on the fence post. If it’s on, we’ll see an electric arc. If not, we’re good to go.”
Dante gave him a curt nod. “Let’s do this.”
They ran across the street and hid behind a detached garage about forty yards from the warehouse fence. Jake took the bolt cutter from Dante, told him to stay put, crouched and used the overgrown grass for cover. He quickly chose the part of the fence closest to the building and farthest from view of any warehouse window. Naomi had been inside for at least five minutes, and that was five minutes too long for his liking. Needing to be able to see or hear her, he worked fast and tested the fence. No arc.
He turned, gave Dante a thumb’s up, then using the bolt cutter, he began snipping the fence. The tool sliced through the metal like a hot knife to butter. By the time Dante reached him, he’d made progress and was pulling part of the fence back. “Ready?” he asked, ducking and stepping through the hole he’d made.
When Dante squeezed through the hole, they avoided the garage and targeted the service door next to it. Dante checked his badass utility belt and pulled out two small tools.
“What are those?” Jake asked in a hushed tone.
“Tension and torque wrenches. Keep watch, I’m going to pick the lock.”
Jake slid along the garage and checked the small windows. The white SUV Naomi had driven off in sat along the far wall of the garage. From the angle at which he stood, he couldn’t see any other vehicles. He also didn’t see any of Hunnicutt’s men.
Dante snapped his fingers. Jake rushed to his side, just as Dante turned the knob and opened the door a fraction.
“What’d you see?” Dante asked exchanging the lock pick tools for a gun.
“Just the driver’s SUV. Doesn’t mean there isn’t anyone patrolling the garage.”
“Let’s go in, sweep the area and check for surveillance cameras.”
Jake knew that was the right way to handle the situation, but he didn’t want Naomi alone with Hunnicutt any longer than she had to be.
Don’t let him take me…I’d rather die than belong to him.
There was no way in hell he’d allow either option to happen. He checked the GPS on his phone, along with the time. “We split up and make this fast. I want to know exactly where she is—now.”
*
Norfolk, Virginia
3:49 p.m. Eastern Daylight Saving Time
Naomi’s heart beat fast as the Santiago stopped her at the third floor landing of the old, rundown warehouse. He shoved her against the metal door.
“Remember, querida,” he said, pressing his mouth against her ear. “Mr. Hunnicutt demands respect.” He rapped on the door. “Do yourself a favor and, for once, obey him.”
Her legs grew weak, yet the urge to run was strong. The past had finally caught up with her. Christian now had her where he wanted. Desperate. Vulnerable. Alone.
She had no idea if Jake and Dante had made it to the warehouse. The GPS chip had been working when they’d landed, but was it now? Did they know where she was in the building?
The door swung open and she drew back against the Columbian. Ric Mancini. She’d watched him during Christian’s press conference, had spoken to him on the phone, but seeing him now—up close and way too personal—brought back horrifying memories of pain and terror.
Ric sent her a sadistic smile. “Do you have any idea what a pain in my ass you’ve been?” He gripped her by the back of the neck and shoved her inside and against the wall. “For eight fucking years he’s searched for you. I knew I should have let you bleed to death that night.” He took a fistful of her hair and pulled hard until she was bending and at his mercy. “Life would have been so much better without you in it.”
“Ric,” Santiago said and jerked his head toward another closed door. “Don’t mark her. Honey Badger won’t like it.”
“Not for now anyway.” Ric glared at her with disdain, then his lips curved into a cruel grin. “He’ll grow tired of the bitch soon, and then she’ll be all mine.” He leaned in and, pulling her hair until her scalp ached, whispered, “I’m going to enjoy making you suffer.”
He let go of her hair and pushed her toward Santiago. She staggered, lost her footing and fell to her knees. Memories from the night Ric had tortured her surfaced and made her head light with fear. She’d put a gun to her head or slit her wrists before ever allowing Ric to touch her again. Christian personified evil, while Ric was a soulless demon.
“I want to kick her so fucking bad.” Ric nudged her with his leather shoe. “Get up before I accidentally break your teeth with my foot.”
The Columbian laughed and hauled her to her feet. “Poor, querida. Not the welcome you were expecting, eh? No worries, Santiago doesn’t hate you like Ric does. You’re life means nothing to me.”
“Christ, Santiago, you’re starting to talk like Vlad.”
The Columbian frowned and led her toward the closed door. “Quit using the Lord’s name in vain.”
“Give me a fucking break. If Honey Badger told you to slit the bitch’s throat you’d do it in a heartbeat. How is saying Christ worse than that?”
While Santiago rattled off something in Spanish, Naomi tried to slow her racing heart. She needed to remain calm and level headed. She had no doubt Ric would make good on his threats. She knew first-hand the man enjoyed inflicting pain. Right now, she’d rather take her chances with Christian. After what he’d gone through to force her to come to him, she doubted he’d kill her right away. He’d likely take pleasure in making her suffer first.
The Columbian turned the knob. Ric shoved him out of the way and latched his hand around her arm. “I’ll bring the bitch to him.”
“Que te den por culo,” Santiago said through gritted teeth and narrowed his eyes.
“Fuck me?” Ric smiled without humor, while the Columbian’s eyes widened. “I’ve been brushing up on my Spanish, gilipollas.”
When Santiago sneered, Ric chuckled. “If you don’t like being called an asshole, then don’t act like one. Remember who you work for, Columbian. Honey Badger pays you, but I own you. Understand?”
Santiago stepped aside. “Whatever, Rosseta Stone.”
Ric ignored the other man and looked down at her. “I suggest you play nice. He’s in a good mood right now, but that can change.”
Fully aware of Christian’s mood swings, she had no intention of provoking him. Doing so would be like poking a stick in a hornets’ nest.
Ric wrapped his hand around the door knob. As he turned it, her insides twisted with nervousness and fear. When he pushed the door open, Ric shoved her forward and forced her to walk. As if trudging through quicksand wearing concrete boots, her legs grew stiff and heavy. Dread stilted her steps, worry constricted her lungs and made it difficult to breathe.
Taking shallow breaths, she darted her gaze around the room. Searching for him, preparing for him to pounce.
“Sir,” Ric said. “The guest of honor has arrived.”
Her heart raced. Her head buzzed. She kept searching the room, saw a young guy on a sofa, a laptop on the table in front of him, but no one else. Then the young guy shifted his eyes toward the large, gaudy chair across from him. She came to an abrupt halt, just as Christian rose from the chair.
With an air of pomp and circumstance, he turned and smiled, revealing the dimples she’d once considered sexy. His midnight blue eyes, heavily fringed by dark lashes, held triumph and pleasure as he assessed her. The tailored suit he wore showed off his toned physique and screamed dollar signs. Chuckling and shaking his head as if he was stunned that she was standing there, he moved his long legs toward her.
When he was only a foot away, he stopped, gently took her hand and raised it to his lips. When he dipped his head, she noticed his perfectly styled,
short dark hair hadn’t greyed over the years. Concentrating on his hair, rather than the way he held her hand and kissed it, helped to keep her from cringing. Christian was a charming, amicable man. Enraged, he was a monster.
“A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” He pressed his lips against her skin, then met her gaze. “What should I call my rose?”
With her mouth dry, her tongue thick and her throat tightening, she swallowed hard. “Naomi.”
He frowned and, still holding her hand, led her toward the man on the sofa. “Naomi doesn’t suit you. You’ll always be Rose to me. Here, let me introduce you to my associate, Harrison.”
Harrison didn’t look like the type of man Christian would associate with on a regular basis. With his dirty, unkempt hair and stained shirt and jeans, he looked as if he’d been plucked off the streets. Plus, the fear and nervousness in Harrison’s eyes matched her own.
“Ma’am,” Harrison said, his left leg jerking as he tapped the heel of his sneaker against the area rug.
“Enough of the formalities.” Christian offered her a seat next to Harrison. “There’s no more time to waste. Harrison, are we ready?”
“Yes.” The man opened the laptop and cleared his throat. “On your command.”
Whoever detonated the bomb had to be connected to the Internet…
The betrayal smacked her in the face. Not wanting to reveal that she knew he was using a computer to detonate the bombs, she kept her eyes on the laptop. “What are you doing with that?”
“I’m not doing anything with it. You or Harrison will.”
“I don’t understand.”
Christian glanced at his watch. “We only have three minutes until four. There’s really no time to waste. As part of your welcome home gift, I’m giving you one of two choices. Shoot Harrison in the head with this.” He pulled a gun from behind his back and waved it. “Or you’ll detonate the next bomb.”
Ultimate Kill (Book 1 Ultimate CORE Trilogy) (CORE Series) Page 24