She was at Santiago’s mercy. From experience she knew that he had none.
The squeal of tires behind her made her heart jolt, turned Santiago’s attention away. She knew the sound of that engine. God help her, Alex had come. She shoved her hair out of her face, looked toward him, past Santiago. Her heart dropped, her hope with it.
He was alone, against seven men.
But Alex didn’t hesitate. He shoved open the truck door and ducked behind it, his pistol in front of him, trained on one man.
Beside her, Santiago laughed and moved in front of her, toward Alex. “The shining knight has arrived, Isabella,” he said, his voice booming. “Do you remember what I did to your last shining knight?”
She would never forget watching Eric die, screaming, then whispering her name. What had happened afterward, to her, hadn’t been as horrible. She could not bear living it again. She couldn’t let Alex die that way, but was powerless. “There’s nothing between us,” she lied, desperate, knowing Alex heard, hoping her words didn’t hurt. But it was the only way she could think to save his life.
He’d come for her. Had risked his life. The reality of the danger they were in threatened to choke her. Meeting Saldana had been more acceptable, less frightening, when only her life was at stake. Her gaze riveted on Alex, his lean face illuminated by the headlights, the muscle in his arms corded as he held the gun straight in front of him. A real hero. But he was all by himself.
“Send her over here.” Alex didn’t shout the words, but they carried a level of command she’d never heard him use.
Santiago shook his head slowly. “You are brave but foolish.” He looked back at Isabella with a bemused expression. “What is it about you that makes men willing to die for you?” Turning toward Alex, he reached inside his jacket.
The headlights glinted off metal as Santiago drew his gun.
“Alex!” she screamed in warning, frozen as she watched Santiago extend the weapon in slow motion.
“Get down,” Alex shouted at the same time.
Her muscles tightened, unable to obey his command until the first shot rang out over the tarmac, then her body loosened and she dropped to the asphalt, covering her head with her arms as gunfire erupted, striking the metal of the vehicles, eliciting shouts of pain, drawing the scent of blood.
Afterward, she would count less than ten shots, but an eternity passed before she could lift her head. Lionel Danes lay at her feet, vacant eyes staring at the darkening sky. Santiago stood at an odd angle, favoring one side, and blood dripped down one arm, pooling on the ground.
Beside his truck, Alex lay on his back, one leg bent. Completely still.
Chapter Fifteen
She screamed his name and scrambled toward him, only to be snatched back by the hair, stumbling, scraping her forearm on the asphalt. Despite the pain, like needles prickling her scalp, and the gravel tearing at her skin, she clawed the ground to get away, to get to Alex. Her throat burned with unshed tears, with an agony no amount of screaming could alleviate. He couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t. Not because of her. But if he was alive, he would be moving. He would be trying to get to her.
The scene was a nightmare. She couldn’t reach him. Her vision telescoped and suddenly her breath was forced from her lungs as one of the other men lifted her over his shoulder, carrying her away, away from Alex.
He hadn’t moved. Not a muscle.
She kicked, twisted, screamed, but was held firm and dumped in the SUV. As soon as the man released her, she bounced out of her seat, heading for the door, only to be met by a fist to the temple.
And blackness.
Alex fought for breath as he stared at the sky and heard the plane’s engines start. Damn it, damn it, Isabella was on that plane and he couldn’t move, couldn’t go after her. The stars blurred, darkened, came back into focus, but only silence now. The plane was gone.
Isabella was gone. His gut churned with pain and despair. He’d failed her. She was back in the hands of the monster.
The next thing he knew, Julian was over him, cursing him, and ripping the bullet proof vest from him. Alex couldn’t pick out his words because, well, Alex was trying to draw air into his lungs without pain. What had they shot him with, a cannon? His chest felt like it had caved in.
Then he realized Julian was cursing him in Spanish. Too much effort to listen, to translate. Instead, he grabbed his friend’s arm and forced his attention. “Saldana was here. He took Isabella.”
“We’ve got satellite tracking him,” Julian said grimly. “I told you not to engage.”
“He took Isabella,” Alex repeated, each syllable a struggle.
“Yeah, well, you didn’t save her now, did you?”
Alex let his head fall back to the asphalt, released Julian’s shirt. “He’s going to kill her.” After he made her suffer for leaving him.
“We’ve got eyes on him, buddy. We know where he’s going.”
Alex shoved himself up on one elbow, but the movement made him dizzy as hell, and nauseated. His head throbbed like a son of a bitch. Still. “I’ve got to get to her.”
“You’ve got to get to the hospital for some x-rays,” Julian retorted. “Looks like you hit your head pretty good. Might need some stitches. There isn’t a plan in place yet, anyway.”
Alex ground his teeth. “The longer she’s with him, the more danger she’s in.”
“It won’t be long,” Julian insisted. “You just need to get patched up. We’ll get her back.”
“You keep an eye on her.” He scanned the area, what he could see with his telescoping vision. Great. A concussion. Just what he needed. “I got Danes and some of Saldana’s men. They still down?”
Julian glanced behind him. “I don’t see any bodies. Lots of blood, though.”
“Didn’t get Saldana—scared I’d hit Bella. Stupid.”
“Not stupid. You can’t risk a hostage.”
“Not a hostage.”
She wasn’t—she was the woman he’d sworn to protect, a woman who trusted him to keep her safe. He’d failed her.
“The SUVs? There were two. Expeditions, I think.” He strained to see past Julian’s shoulder across the dark tarmac.
“Gone.”
He closed his eyes again. “Maybe surveillance footage—”
“We got it covered, Shep. We’ll take care of it.”
“Don’t let him hurt her,” Alex said and passed out.
Alex sat on the narrow cot in the emergency room and watched for the nurse he’d sent to get him a shirt. Bruised ribs, they said. Could have been worse. Thank God he kept the vest behind the seat of his truck, and had taken time to put it on. Also, a minor concussion, and eight stitches in his scalp. Still, the amount of blood on his shirt made it look like he’d been butchered.
Julian was coming to pick him up now. Why he couldn’t have attended to Alex in the field, Alex didn’t know. It wasn’t like he’d never gotten stitches without anesthetic, or continued on a mission with a concussion. The rest of the team probably wanted him out of the way while they made their plan, the bastards. Julian had better be here before the nurse returned—or Alex would walk back to DEA headquarters, find out what they’d learned from satellite and cell phones. He didn’t know if they were still tracking Bella or if they’d found Saldana. Goddamn, he hated being helpless.
He had to force himself not to think about what she was enduring, only what he could control.
Which wasn’t a hell of a lot.
The nurse returned with a shirt. Her lips pressed together matter-of-factly as he grimaced. He pushed her hands away to button it himself.
“You have my phone?” he asked.
“Your ride will be here soon enough,” she said shortly.
“I want to call my dad.” Tell him he’d killed his friend. Get absolution. Hear his voice.
The woman’s eyes softened marginally. “Yeah. I can get you your phone. I’ll be right back.”
For the first time he hoped Julian wouldn
’t come just yet. He needed to talk to his father with the privacy of a confessional.
The nurse returned with his personal effects. He dug out his phone, and holding it reassured him. He hadn’t realized how out of touch he’d felt. He dialed with shaking fingers. “Dad.”
“Hello, son,” his foster father replied in his deep, calm voice.
“Dad, I—” He swallowed hard, shaking all over now. “I just killed Lionel Danes.”
He heard his dad’s intake of breath, could sense him controlling his questions, knowing as a former Ranger himself what he could and couldn’t ask.
“What happened?”
That question left it open to Alex to decide what to share.
“It’s my fault,” Alex said. “I went to him. I needed his help here and he got us out of town and gave us a place to stay, and then—he took the woman I’m trying to protect.”
“Took her?”
Alex swallowed against the burning in his throat. “Kidnapped her. I thought she was safe alone, he came and got her. He said she had a price on her head. He was holding a gun to her—” He broke off.
“You were assigned to keep this woman safe.” His father’s voice was calm, reasonable, as Alex had hoped it would be. Had feared it wouldn’t be.
“No. I was assigned to let her lead us back to the bad guy.”
“Ah.” The single syllable held a world of meaning.
“It’s not like that.” Damn, he never lied to his foster father. Not anymore. Usually his father could see through it. Alex had to hope the phone gave them enough distance. “She’s young, she’s looking for her child. He’s only three years old. A kid that young needs his mother, right?”
“He does.” His father dragged out the last word leadingly.
“I made a mistake.” Alex rubbed a hand down his face as if he could erase that fact. “More than one. Lionel Danes is dead because of it. She’s gone, taken by the man Lionel gave her to. Because I worried more about the woman than the job.”
“Alex, you’re a good soldier. Lionel Danes was a man who always had his own best interests at heart.”
Alex resisted the pull of those words, the hope that they were true. “He was a Ranger.”
“You know yourself not all Rangers are saints.”
He did know. “But if I hadn’t killed him, he could link us to Saldana, to the kid.”
“He still could. You just have to work backwards. If he was in that deep, he would have killed you to get what he wanted, Alex.”
“I know.” He’d heard it in the old man’s voice earlier tonight. “I know.”
“You did what you had to do, Alex. You’ve done it before. Odds are you’ll have to do it again.”
His father was right. Hell, he may have to do it before this was over.
“Call me when you can,” his father said with a sigh when Alex didn’t say anything. “I love you, son.”
“I love you too, Dad.” He flipped the phone closed just as Julian walked back. The grim look on the younger man’s face made Alex’s stomach twist. “What happened?”
“We lost Saldana.”
Alex’s stomach dropped, and he jumped to his feet, ignoring his swimming head. “Isabella?”
“We don’t know.”
“Where did you lose track?” He grabbed up the plastic bag with his belongings and started for the exit, staggering just a bit on unsteady legs.
Julian fell into step. “Near Jacksonville.”
But at least not heading back to Honduras. How long had it taken the DEA to find Saldana the first time? Years? Isabella didn’t have that long.
“Have they traced the SUVs? What about the plane? It’s not like there are a lot of places they could land—did you get the flight plan?”
“Yeah, we have it, and we have a team on its way to the airstrip, but Saldana’s avoided authorities for a long damn time. You don’t think he’s playing by the rules now, do you?”
Alex whirled on his friend, who steadied him when he swayed. “We’ve got to start somewhere, got to find her.”
Jesus. What was she going through right now? Because if Saldana touched her, Alex would tear him apart. She’d been through enough.
He slammed his fist on the gurney. “How could you lose her? Do you know what he’ll do to her?”
Julian shook his head. “I’m sorry, Shep.”
“I shouldn’t have left her alone. I trusted Danes, and I left her alone while I did him a favor. I killed her.”
Julian rested his hand on Alex’s shoulder. “We’ll get to her in time.”
Alex shook his head. “It’s already too late.”
Isabella woke on a rolling bed, the scent of fish—no, the scent of the ocean—surrounding her. She took a quick inventory. Her head and her stomach ached from where Santiago had hit her once she was in his custody, but she was dressed and hadn’t been raped.
Thank God.
But Alex was dead, and that was the worst pain of all.
Without opening her eyes, she tried to measure the room, to discover if anyone was here with her. She listened for the sound of breathing, anything that would give her a clue. But she heard nothing but the lapping of waves against the hull. A boat, then, but no motor. No other sounds surrounded the boat, no voices, no other boats. They had to be in open water. How would anyone find her now?
Slowly she opened her eyes. The room was clean, bright enough to hurt her eyes, gleaming wood and brass. A yacht.
She sat up abruptly. Hector could be here. If Santiago was leaving the country, he would certainly bring his son.
The fact that she wasn’t bound struck her and reaffirmed her fear that they were out on the ocean. Nowhere to run.
She was his prisoner again.
She rolled off the bed, staggered, and not from the pitch of the boat. Was she drugged or just hungry? She hadn’t eaten since the chili in the trailer with Alex. She had no idea how long ago that had been.
Cautiously she tried the door handle, not wanting anyone on the other side to realize she was awake. The door was locked from the outside. Her heart dropped, but she shouldn’t have expected otherwise.
Head spinning, she sat on the floor, hard. She only wanted to know where she was and if her son was on board. She glanced toward the windows that lined the room near the ceiling. Too narrow to crawl out, and even if she managed, what would she do next?
She needed to find out what hell she was sailing into.
Alex squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again, trying to focus as he stared out at the bobbing boats in the marina. His head throbbed like a son of a bitch and every bump Julian had hit from the airport to the marina in the rented Jeep had only made it worse. Julian had instructed him to stay in the Jeep and though Alex rebelled, he knew now was the time to let others do the legwork. When it came to tracking Isabella down, he needed to be ready to go. Which meant he needed to rest while his team canvassed the area.
Saldana had screwed up at the airfield. He’d probably thought no one saw him split his crew, two men taking the Lear Jet, two more plus Saldana and an unconscious Isabella taking another SUV here to the marina.
Classic decoy. Good thing the mechanic working in a nearby hangar had kept himself hidden or he might not be going home to his family this morning.
Unconscious. The mechanic’s words had been “out of it”, but Alex’s mind ran with the possibilities. She was hurt, she was drugged, she was dead.
No, Alex couldn’t believe that. Which meant that she was out there somewhere with a man who would hurt her, and she was defenseless.
His own helplessness hurt more than his damn shoulder. Now, if she was out at sea, how could he find her? She could be any damned where.
Julian pounded on the driver’s side window, making Alex jolt, then swear as pain shot through him.
“What the fuck?” Alex demanded when his friend opened the door.
“We have the boat. Fifty-foot sailboat, registered to a Javier Bustos out of Belize. The p
lan they filed with the harbor master said they’re heading back there, but it could be another decoy. Trouble is, they’ve got the GPS turned off. Could be anywhere.”
The longer they took to find her, the more trouble she was in.
Please God, don’t let him have taken her out to sea to dump her body. He had to see her again, had to hold her again, had to make sure she was safe before he turned away.
Isabella balanced on her toes on the narrow bunk and shoved at the latch on the window, but it was too high and she couldn’t get leverage to push it open.
She whimpered in frustration, just stopping herself from pounding the frame with her fist.
Behind her the door handle turned and she whirled. Too late to pretend she was still unconscious. Trapped. Her heart rabbited as she waited for the door to open.
The man who walked through was unfamiliar, and big. His eyes widened to see her standing on the cot. He stepped into the room and she hopped to the other side, keeping the bunk between herself and the stranger.
“Come with me.”
The big man’s voice didn’t match his body, more high pitched than Isabella expected, as if she wasn’t off balance enough. Her own voice sounded distant to her ears when she asked, “Where?”
“You are in no position to ask questions.”
Even his tone was unexpected, not unkind. But when he approached, her trembling grew out of control so she had to grip the edge of the bunk to stay upright. Was he going to throw her overboard? The only question was if he’d shoot her first, or let her drown.
She wouldn’t see her son again, or Alex. Bile bolted up her throat at the thought but she battled it back.
“I want my son.” She wondered if he could understand her through her chattering teeth. “Is my son here?” If he was, whatever she had to do to pay for running from Santiago would be worth it, if she could only see him, touch him, hold him.
Something like sympathy flickered in the big man’s eyes. “It’s better if you come with me under your own power.”
He was right. She struggled for self-control. To be forced to appear before Santiago would reveal her fear.
Breaking Daylight Page 17