Kingston Kidnappings (What Happens In Vegas Book 3)

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Kingston Kidnappings (What Happens In Vegas Book 3) Page 17

by Matt Lincoln


  “So,” Miranda hummed innocently as I began to drive back toward the city. “Now that you literally can’t get away, tell me what’s going on with you and Fiona.”

  Drat. I should have known better than to let my guard down.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I retorted weakly.

  “Wow,” Miranda laughed. “Junior, you’ve conducted hundreds of interrogations. Has that line ever worked on you?”

  “No,” I scoffed, smiling in spite of myself.

  “Then why would you think it would work on me?” she asked. “Now come on, give me details. You and Fiona are my friends. I can’t believe I didn’t notice this before. How long has it been going on?”

  I furrowed my brows as I thought about how I should answer. It was a little difficult to quantify, to be honest. We’d never really talked about or put a label on what was going on between us. We’d gone out for a meal together for the first time about a month ago, but we’d been flirting with each other for at least three months. Even before then, though, we’d been hanging out as friends several times a week.

  “I guess it was--” I started to say, but I wasn’t able to finish. The first thing I registered was the sound of crunching metal, closely followed by the screeching of tires. Maybe it was the other way around, but it all happened so quickly that it was hard to tell which came first. After that was a blunt pain across my chest and lap as the seatbelt dug sharply into me, and an intense heat when my face collided with the airbag as it inflated in front of me. The last thing I remembered was the acrid smell of smoke as the car finally came to a stop on the side of the road after flipping once, or maybe twice. It was hard to tell from the inside of the car, but I could feel an alien sensation like I was floating before I was suddenly brought back down into my seat forcefully and painfully. By then, I was beginning to lose consciousness, and I couldn’t really focus anymore.

  24

  Charlie

  The sun had just set, and Patel and I were already in position for our stakeout. Because a car would have called too much attention in this part of town, we’d made an arrangement with a store owner whose building was located in the center of the neighborhood. From here, we’d be able to watch both sides of the street for any suspicious activity.

  “I can’t believe how much he charged us just to let us sit in here,” I grumbled.

  “We’re lucky he agreed to help at all,” Patel replied. “The people here don’t trust the police. And for good reason. Trenchtown is one of the most dangerous neighborhoods in Kingston. Even during the day, you’re liable to become a victim of theft or assault, especially if you’re a bumbling tourist who doesn’t know any better than to wander down here. The police don’t help matters, considering the majority of the ones in this area are corrupt, to put it plainly.”

  “That’s why you didn’t want to use a car?” I asked.

  “Of course,” she responded. “We’d be carjacked for sure. You’re clearly a foreigner, and I’m a woman. We might as well paint a target on ourselves.”

  “Whatever happened to everyone in Jamaica being friendly?” I asked sarcastically.

  “I stand by what I said,” Patel shrugged in response. “Jamaica is a wonderful country mostly filled with wonderful people, but I’m not stupid. It’s not perfect. I’ll admit that. Like in any country, there are rotten apples who try to spoil it for the rest of us. It does make sense, though, that they would target children from these areas. It’s not a safe place for a child, and people who grow up here are often powerless to rise above and get out. Someone coming and claiming that they want to take their child somewhere safe where they can receive an education must sound like a blessing.”

  “And instead, they’re selling them off to rich Americans,” I snarled. It was disgusting that they would take advantage of parents who just wanted a better life for their kids. My blood boiled just thinking about it.

  “Not if we have anything to say about it,” Patel sneered. “Look, someone’s coming.”

  I looked out the window and saw a car creeping slowly down the road. Its lights were off, and by now, it was dark enough that it was difficult to see the car as it moved through the narrow street. It slowed to a stop right in front of a house a few yards away from the store.

  “Do you think that’s them?” I asked as two men got out of the car and headed into the house after taking a quick look around the neighborhood.

  “I think so,” Patel nodded. “We can’t be certain, but the time and location match the information Brown gave us. They’re also clearly up to something, judging from the way they took a look around before entering the house. While that’s not necessarily a strange sight here in Trenchtown, I somehow doubt it’s all just a coincidence.”

  “Let’s move quickly then,” I urged as I stood up. “If we box them into the house, we’ll be able to apprehend them before they have a chance to escape.”

  “Agreed,” Patel replied. “Just be careful. Remember, the child and parents are inside as well.”

  I nodded as I made my way out of the small store and onto the street. We only had a small window of opportunity before the men came back out again. Once we were in front of the door, I took one last look at Patel to make sure she was ready to go inside. She gave me a small nod, and I pushed the door open before quickly stepping inside.

  “Don’t move!” I yelled as I brought my gun up in front of me. “Agent Hills with MBLIS. Put your hands up!”

  Four sets of surprised eyes turned to look at us. A woman, who I presumed to be the mother of the child in question, screamed and threw herself to the ground at the sight of my gun. The sound seemed to startle the two men we’d seen enter the house into action. One of them reached behind their back.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Patel grit out coldly as she stepped up beside me, brandishing her own weapon. “Put your hands up, and get on the ground, now.”

  The man slowly brought both of his hands up in front of him before moving to obey her commands. Both men got to their knees, a little too easily, in my opinion. As Patel moved forward to handcuff the suspects, I noticed that one of them had moved his hands together behind his head. It was a normal position, but something about it seemed off.

  “Patel, stop!” I yelled as I realized what the man was doing. The next moment, he pulled a gun from behind his back. He’d had a modified holster strapped to his shoulders. She managed to duck out of the way just as the man fired a shot at her.

  The other man took advantage of the distraction by leaping to his feet and lunging toward me. I fired my own gun, but he’d anticipated my actions and jumped to the side. My shot missed him and instead pierced the coffee table in the center of the room. I felt a sharp, hot pain as the man’s knife tore through my abdomen. I hadn’t even seen him draw it.

  I cried out in pain and pressed my hand to the wound on my side. I turned and tried to train my gun on the man as he made a break for the front door, but the pain in my side was distracting me, and after accidentally hitting the coffee table, I didn’t want to fire inside the room again unless I could get a clean shot.

  I swore as the man rushed out the door, causing me to miss my chance. I heard a gunshot behind me and turned just in time to see the man who’d shot at Patel fall to the ground. She rushed forward to kick the gun he’d dropped away from him.

  “Go after the other suspect,” she called as she turned to look at me. “I’m fine here.”

  I had confidence in Patel’s abilities. Since she seemed to have a handle on things in here, I turned and took off out the door at a sprint. The wound on my side screamed in protest as I sprinted down the street, but I gritted my teeth and pushed through the pain.

  It was so dark that I could barely see anything. The light of the moon provided a bit of illumination, but the shadows cast by the tightly packed buildings plunged everything back into darkness. Fortunately, there was virtually nobody out on the street at this time of night, so I was quickly able to catc
h sight of the suspect as she raced down the street.

  He must have heard my footsteps as I began to close in on him because he suddenly turned around to look at me over his shoulder. I was worried he might try to shoot at me. If he did, I’d be completely exposed out here in the open street. I tensed, ready to jump to the side or duck to the ground the moment I saw the flash of metal.

  It never came. Instead, he suddenly took a sharp turn down a narrow alley. I followed him down it, but I couldn’t move as quickly as he could. He was clearly familiar with this area, and he leaped over trash cans and around stacks of wooden crates with ease. In contrast, every obstacle I hit put me just a few steps further behind him.

  I finally made it to the end of the alley and into a more open square in the center of the neighborhood. I looked around frantically for any sign of him and caught a small flash of movement ducking behind the corner of a building at the other end of the square. I ran around the edge of the building and caught sight of the suspect running toward a group of men. They were standing at the corner of the street smoking and talking, and their conversation fell silent as they watched us approach.

  The suspect yelled something at them in Patois. Even though Patel had spent the afternoon teaching me some common phrases, I still didn’t manage to catch what he said. Whatever it was, I could tell it wasn’t good as soon as the men threw down their cigarettes and began to walk toward us. I stopped dead in my tracks as I was gripped with an intense feeling of foreboding.

  The suspect tossed a smirk at me as he ran past the men and around the corner of the building. The men, however, continued to advance on me.

  “I’m not looking for trouble,” I explained as I put my hands up in a placating gesture. I was confident in my abilities in a fight, but I wasn’t cocky enough to think I could take on four grown men on my own, even with a gun.

  “You a cop?” one of the men asked as the group came to a stop a few feet away from me.

  I wasn’t sure how I should respond to that question. I somehow doubted that telling them I was actually a federal agent would make any difference. Patel had mentioned more than once how dangerous this area was, so it was possible that admitting to being any kind of law enforcement wouldn’t end well for me.

  “I asked if you were a cop!” the man shouted as he took a step closer.

  “I am,” I answered cautiously. They probably wouldn’t have believed me if I denied it, anyway. I needed to be tactful with what I said next. “That man who just ran off, he was trying to hurt a little girl.”

  “What girl?” the man asked.

  “She lives a few houses away,” I explained. The men most likely lived around here. In my experience, even the most hardened of criminals detested those who went after kids. Maybe appealing to their sense of sympathy would help get me out of this. “In a building across the street from the general store. There was a blue wind chime on the front porch.”

  “That sounds like James’s kid,” one of the other men grunted. The first man seemed to relax a little.

  “What does she look like?” he asked suspiciously. I hadn’t actually seen the girl when we’d entered the house, only her parents and the two men we’d followed inside.

  “I don’t know,” I admitted.

  “Then how do you know he was trying to hurt her?” The man asked as he pulled a gun out of his waistband and pointed it at me. My heart stopped, and I could hear a ringing in my ears as I looked down the barrel of the gun.

  “Hey!” Patel’s voice broke through the ringing in my ears and grounded me again. I turned toward the sound of her voice. She was standing a few feet away. Her gun was pointed at the man, and she was slowly approaching us.

  “Stop!” The man yelled. “Or I’ll-”

  “Yuh wi what?” Patel cut him off in Patois. “A yuh gwine lick shot ah federal agent? Yuh waah di fi wi wul agency tuh cum dung pan you?”

  I wasn’t entirely sure what she’d said, but I could tell she’d mentioned the term “federal agent.” Whatever she’d said, it had given the men pause. They were looking at each other nervously, and I was tense as I waited to see what their response would be.

  “Mi nah fraid ah sum Merikan agency,” the first man finally growled with a scoff. He took a step forward and puffed his chest out in a show of confidence.

  “Den bi fraid ah mi,” Patel hissed as she stalked toward the man, her gun aimed directly at him. “Mi bet mi cud kill at least two ah yuh before yuh get ah shot eena. Between fi mi partner an mi Mi bet wi cudda wollah yuh pan di grung eena ah few seconds. Suh wah mek nuh yuh jus gweh before mi decide tuh use yuh ed tuh tess fi mi aim?”

  Patel and the man stayed locked in a standoff for a few more seconds before the man finally lowered his gun.

  “Let’s go,” he growled at the men behind him. He tucked his gun back into his pants before turning around to lead the rest of his troupe down the street and around the corner.

  I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. That wasn’t the first time I’d had a gun pointed at me, but the experience never got any easier.

  “Did you threaten to kill them?” I asked Patel once I felt comfortable that the men were out of earshot.

  “Yes,” she huffed as she put her gun back in its holster. “Definitely not protocol, but it was necessary for this situation. They weren’t at all intimidated by the fact that we were federal agents. I needed to find another way to get them to back down.”

  “How did you know that would work?” I asked.

  “I didn’t,” Patel admitted. “But you were up against four men with a gun pointed at your head. We didn’t have much to lose at that point.”

  “That’s true,” I conceded. My hands felt a little shaky from the rush of adrenaline, but I tried to brush it off. “We should head back to the house. What happened with the other suspect?”

  “He’s in police custody,” Patel informed me as we made our way back. “The cops that were on standby came in and took him away fairly quickly. Even they don’t want to spend any more time here than necessary.”

  “I can see why,” I remarked.

  “Indeed,” Patel nodded. “Let’s just speak to the parents and get out of here. I have no desire to spend any more time here than I need to.”

  We hurried back toward the house. Even though we were out of danger, for the time being, I kept glancing over my shoulder.

  “Do you think that those men were working with the traffickers?” I asked.

  “I don’t think so,” Patel frowned. “If they were, they probably would have just killed us. I think it’s more likely that they were just some residents who didn’t like having the authorities in their neighborhood.”

  “Great,” I replied sarcastically. Though I suspected as much, considering how surprised the men had seemed to hear that the suspect had been targeting a girl living in their neighborhood, it did nothing to alleviate my fears. If anything, it just made me more nervous that we might be attacked again at any moment.

  I felt relieved when we finally made it back to the house. Patel stepped inside first, and I followed her in. The woman from before was sitting on the couch rocking a small girl back and forth in her arms while the man was cleaning broken bits of glass and furniture off of the floor. I hadn’t realized how much damage we’d inadvertently caused earlier.

  “What is happening?” the woman asked as we came into the house. “Who are you? Why did everyone suddenly start shooting?”

  The man on the floor suddenly stopped cleaning and stood up in front of us as if shielding his wife and child.

  “You are Mr. and Mrs. Green, correct?” Patel asked. “The men who came into your home tonight were here before, weren’t they? I’m guessing they told you that they were going to take your daughter to a school in America.”

  “How did you know?” Mrs. Green asked. She exchanged a nervous look with her husband.

  “We heard that you changed your mind the first time,” Patel replied. “Can you tell us why
you did that?” The woman stroked her sleeping daughter’s hair gently.

  “I just had a bad feeling,” she croaked as tears began to well up in her eyes. “I just had this fear that if I let them take my little girl, I would never see her again. I was right, wasn’t I?”

  “I’m afraid so, Mrs. Green,” Patel nodded.

  “I told you!” The woman suddenly yelled at her husband. “I told you something was wrong! I told you it didn’t make any sense! You wanted me to give them my baby!”

  “I just wanted a better life for her!” Mr. Green yelled in response. “Look around you. Do you think I want her growing up around Devon and the rest of that group that’s always hanging around here? What other chance does she have at a decent life?”

  “That’s enough,” Patel interrupted harshly, causing both of the feuding adults to fall into silence. “Look at your child. You’re frightening her.”

  The little girl had indeed woken up and was looking up at her parents with wide, tearful eyes.

  “What matters now,” Patel continued. “Is that we managed to stop the men before they could take her. Fighting about what might have happened is only going to upset her. Focus instead on what you can do to help us ensure that these men are apprehended and unable to take anyone else’s child.”

  “What can we do?” Mr. Green asked.

  “Tell us how the men approached you,” Patel instructed. “Did they just show up on your doorstep one day?”

  “More or less,” the man nodded. “Joy was outside playing. She ran inside and said that there was a man outside who wanted to speak with us. He told us that he was part of a missionary group from the United States who wanted to sponsor children in need. He said he wanted to take her to the US to get an education.”

  “Does he live around here?” Patel asked.

  “No,” the man shook his head. “I know most of the neighbors. I’d never seen him before.”

  “I see,” Patel nodded. She looked as disappointed as I felt. “Was the man who came to your door one of the men who was here tonight?”

 

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