But Vandershoot would serve time, either in Spain or the United States, because of the flagrant nature of his offenses and government agreements to cooperate in ending human trafficking. At least, it was a start. All the men on the team were pleased, nearly celebratory.
Kyle, Coop, Tucker, Trace and several others were eating dinner with Jason and Damon, when Kyle got a call from Washington, relaying a message from Christy. He was given permission to speak with her privately.
When he returned to the group, he was silent. He didn’t even laugh when Damon and Fredo imitated one of Jason’s Maori chants. He’d promised to add some of his routine to their exercise program.
But when their eyes met, Jason knew something was wrong.
“You have news?” Jason started softly, fear curling up from his belly.
“I do. You want to do this here, or you want to do it private, Jason?” was Kyle’s response.
It wasn’t a hard decision. These were his brothers, as dear to him as Thomas had been. He also trusted Kyle wouldn’t offer him the choice if it was really bad, so he agreed.
“Kiley’s been kidnapped, Jason.”
This was not expected. “This happened in Florida? How are Aimee and Andy?”
“What about Martel?” asked Damon.
“Everyone in Florida is fine at the moment,” said Kyle. “She went back to Portland, and they took her from the airport.”
“But how could that be? She told me she was waiting to go back. I’m practically back home now. What happened?”
“There have been some murders in Portland, related to the stories she was following for the paper. I guess she got threatened by the police, and they were preparing to arrest her and bring her back anyway.” Kyle leaned forward. “I’m not real happy about this, but apparently our friend Andy got in touch with someone you know very well, Kelly. Your father-in-law.”
“Oh shit. He didn’t,” she said.
“He’d sent a car over to pick her up, but someone got to her beforehand and she never showed.”
Jason had never felt so helpless. He couldn’t believe she would actually be so careless with her personal safety. “I don’t even know where to start, Kyle. Are the police on it? Does anyone really know anything or are we guessing here?”
“Riley’s on it. He’s got a former cop working on it too, to be a liaison.”
“That would be Bryce,” mumbled Tucker. “Wow, this is a real shitstorm. It keeps getting bigger and bigger. Now they’ve gotten my household involved. This is dangerous stuff.”
“We need to get to her,” said Jason. “Can I get released on an emergency basis?”
“And do what?” asked Kyle. “Get involved with a shootout with the local mob? A shootout with police? Take your pick, Jason. Your Trident could be at risk here. I’m not sure there’s any arrows in your quiver, if you catch my drift.”
“But I have to do something. You can’t just make me wait here, processing paperwork, sitting on my ass wondering if—”
“Kyle, you should let Tucker, Damon, and Jason go. Get them released,” Coop said.
“That your professional opinion, Coop? You gonna risk my career, too?”
“I’d do it for you, Kyle. You know I would. We’d all do it for each other.”
“But for what? If I thought it would do any good, I could justify it.”
Tucker pounded the table. “Fuck this. Riley’s been after me to join his little venture. Maybe it’s time to go do it.” He turned to Kelly. “You know what he’s capable of. Does he have the network, the resources to do a hostage rescue?”
“I would never underestimate Mr. Colin Riley. Those who dare do so at their own peril. He has more allies than I’ll bet the police up there have. And it’s what he lives for. He could do it. I don’t know what he’s got planned, but I think he could.”
“Thanks, Kelly.” Tucker stared back at Kyle. “My mind’s made up. I’m all in. Those are good enough odds for me. I’m taking them, if you’ll let us. Get the three of us released, and I’ll do what I can to keep the youngsters from getting snagged by something awful. I saw firsthand from the look in Bryce’s daughter’s face what those guys can do. This has got to stop and I won’t be able to live with myself unless I try.”
“I’m in too. No matter what. I’ve gotta try,” said Jason. “I don’t care what it costs me. We have to stand up to this evil challenge.” Jason felt the whole room was with him as well. He was grateful for the moral support.
“And you, Damon?”
“Shit, Kyle, Martel would never forgive me if I didn’t try. Besides, there’s no risk. She wants me to go teach school or something. There’s no way she’s gonna go live in San Diego. That was a pipe dream. My priorities are all changed.”
“They must be putting something in the water there,” Kyle said, shaking his head. “What is it?”
“It’s the sunsets. And while you’re at it, release me too,” said Ned. “If I can’t defend one of our own, what’s the point? The war’s come to our soil. Time to do something about it.”
Kyle studied all four of them, one by one. Jason knew he was trying to sort out all the screaming going on inside his head. And if he didn’t do it quickly, he was about to lose his whole squad.
“God damn it! Give me a minute.” He whipped out his sat phone, got up, and headed outside the dining hall.
“What if they say no, Tucker?” Jason was worried.
“Well, we could start a mutiny here, but somehow, I don’t think that will turn out as well as our cruise ship caper,” answered Tucker. “It’s out of our hands, kid. Sucks, but they own us. If they say no, then we stay.”
They didn’t have to wait long. Kyle barked at the doorway. “Come on, you four. We’re cutting you loose. There’s a Seahawk getting ready, with your names all over it.”
In less than ten minutes from start to finish, the four SEALs boarded the brand new forty-two-million-dollar bird and were dropped off on the far side of the harbor. Lt. Gridley and two men were on their way to pick them up and escort them to the airport. They wouldn’t get there for at least another twenty-four hours. But they were on their way.
Chapter 20
Kiley woke up lying on a dirty mattress that smelled of things she didn’t want to think about. Her neck was stiff, and she had a throbbing headache. Her whole left side was painful, like she’d been thrown on the mattress roughly like a piece of meat while she was unconscious.
She heard coughing and realized she wasn’t alone. Opening her eyes, daylight seeped into the structure somehow. She sat up and discovered she was in a cage. Immediately, her chest began to constrict and she became woozy.
Breathe! Breathe!
Scanning the warehouse-type building, she saw more than a dozen other cages, all containing young girls. Some were sleeping on dirty mattresses like hers, but others were sitting up, their backs propped against the metal sides of the compartments. Most of their expressions held sad contemplation.
“Hello, does anyone know where we are?” she called to the room. Her words echoed ominously.
Most of the girls looked up, and a couple of them stood. One of them put her fingers to her lips and motioned for her to be quiet. Then she pointed to a roll-up doorway and a desk manned with a guard, who was hunched over, snoring.
Kiley searched the cage and discovered her purse was missing.
And so is my computer!
She felt the pocket of her jeans and was gratified to learn that the thumb drive she’d made of her computer’s contents was still there.
Thank God!
She tried to get her bearings, listening to anything from outside that might give her an indication where the warehouse was located while several of the girls watched her. She heard freeway traffic, which wasn’t much of a help. But then she heard the sound of a train streaking by and then quickly disappearing. It wasn’t one of the long trains hauling freight but probably a passenger run.
She heard a police or ambulance siren of
f in the distance and then heard the sudden blast of a large vessel traveling nearby, just like the cargo ships that went in and out of the harbor along the warehouse district of Portland. There was a commuter run she’d taken many times, so she was fairly certain she knew what general area she was housed. She was within a dozen blocks of her old flat and probably had jogged past this building.
She stood and studied every cage, wondering if she’d recognize anyone. All the girls had long brown or black hair, all were very slight, young, and terrified. Most of them appeared to be either Latino or Asian. Carmen was not among them.
The sounds of a diesel vehicle of some kind came very close to the roll-up doors and then shut off. She heard several car doors slam shut.
Quickly, she looked for something she could use to protect herself. There were bottles and some shipping crates next to the wall, but nothing she would be able to reach. She did notice a crowbar someone had used to open those wooden crates. Wood shavings had spilled over the table where the box had been unpacked and had partially obscured the crowbar.
Sitting down, she examined the mattress. It was made of old ticking material and had buttons sewn into it, holding the layers together like they did in the old hotel rooms she’d seen. As the sound of men’s voices became louder, she wiggled several of the buttons back and forth until she found one that was slightly loose, enough to get her fingers under it as she pulled, and it broke off in her hand. Kiley examined it closely and discovered it was made of metal. Portions of the little disc had been clipped and folded back on itself, and that’s where she focused. She carefully pried several teeth of the metal back until she had a very small sharp edge no wider than a half inch across, but it was better than nothing. She tucked the disc inside her shoe, down by her toes, making sure nothing sharp would cut her own flesh if she had to walk.
The door opened, and four men stepped inside, all wearing suits and black gloves. One of them swiped across the face of the young boy who had been guarding the cages. The young man fell backwards, his metal chair scraping on the concrete floor and then skidding several feet before stopping. He scrambled to his feet, holding his nose and trying to stop the profusion of blood cascading down over his lips and onto his shirt.
Another car arrived, and a fifth man entered, dressed in a police uniform.
Kiley studied the tall lanky cop, considering whether she might have met him somewhere before. Then she recognized him as one of the men from the mayor’s task force on human trafficking, a man she’d interviewed for her story. At the time, she’d thought him very helpful, but when all the leads he gave her dried up, she had wondered.
Well, the answer was right in front of her, heading across the floor between the other cages and walking deliberately in her direction. He hadn’t tried to cover his face, which gave Kiley the sinking feeling he wasn’t worried about her recognizing him for a very specific reason.
She’d come to the end of her tether. This was where the story was going to end. She’d be written up under Michael or Corbin’s heading,
Local Investigative Reporter found Murdered in Warehouse Sting Operation.
She remembered what the old reporter had told her. It verified his story. It was always the ones who were in charge of the clean-up that were the guilty ones. Those were the ones to watch, be patient, and go back and keep drilling for more information after the scandal was sanitized.
That probably also meant her other hunch had been right. The mayor was involved up to his eyebrows. Or, at best, he was somehow compromised.
“Hello, Kiley,” Officer Damien Woodhouse said, standing with his hands on his hips in front of her door. “Are they making you comfortable?”
She didn’t look at him.
“You get a little rest?”
He kept digging.
“Hmmm? You always had so much to say, so many opinions, so many theories and ideas. I enjoyed your articles in the paper, although you were a pain in the ass.”
She glared up at him. “Good.”
Reflexively, he lunged for her through the bars, but Kiley was quick to back up out of his reach.
“I tried to warn you several times, Kiley. You just wouldn’t give up. Now see what you’ve brought on yourself? On the reputation of the paper? Did you know that there’s going to be a full retraction printed tomorrow? Too bad you won’t be seeing it, though. I wrote the piece myself.”
One of the suits walked over to Woodhouse. “Can you hang for a bit? We’ve got to pick up a package. I’ll be back and we can load them up.” He glanced down at Kiley. “Finish things.”
“Sure, I’m fine. You leaving the kid?”
“You’re his ride. I guess so.”
“Okay with me. You count the inventory?”
“Sixteen.”
Kiley knew that didn’t include her, but she didn’t dwell on that. The odds had just swung in her favor slightly. She had to find a way out of the cage first. But she had a plan.
Once the door slammed shut, she put her plan into motion.
“I guess you’re too scared to let me out to go pee. Did I get that right? I should just pee all over the mattress?”
Woodhouse’s eyes flared. “I’m not afraid of you,” he sneered.
Kiley shrugged. “Suit yourself.” She began to wet herself.
“Hey! Julio!” he called to the injured guard. “I need the keys. Quick!”
Julio came running. They both fumbled with the keys, which released the door. Officer Woodhouse pulled Kiley’s hair, yanking her from the cage and sending her toward the restroom in the corner. As they neared the packing table, Kiley struggled, attempted to give him a knee to the groin, but he was quick enough to step away. Just for an instant, he lost his grip. It gave Kiley just enough time to grab the crowbar from under the shavings and swing at Woodhouse. The sharp end of the curved tip struck the officer across his cheekbones, nearly severing his nose from his face.
As he screamed, crashing to the ground, Kiley took his gun. A large pool of blood seeped from underneath his skull as his body went limp.
She had no idea how to shoot. But it was good enough to scare Julio into thinking she could.
“Unlock them all, right now, or I’ll drill you.”
The girls became agitated, whining and begging to be let out first. Julio danced around each of the cages until all but two were opened. They heard the sound of a vehicle outside, and all the freed girls ran in the opposite direction, toward a dark corner near the restroom. Kiley hoped she didn’t have to do something to make the gun operable, like slip off a safety or cock it. She vowed that if she survived this ordeal, she’d learn how to handle a gun properly.
The door opened a crack. A woman’s face peered in—someone she didn’t recognize. Kiley aimed the pistol at her, and she shouted back, “No! Don’t shoot!” in Eastern European accent, perhaps Russian.
But what happened next surprised her even more. From behind the woman stepped Carmen. The whole left side of her face was swollen and bright purple, but she was very much alive.
“Carmen!”
They ran to each other and hugged. Then Kiley turned on Julio, demanding, “Finish, until they all are released.”
“Kiley, this is Natalia. She saved my life. She used to be one of them,” Carmen said, pointing at the small crowd huddling together at the rear.
“Thank you, Natalia. I—” She remembered what the men had told Officer Woodhouse. “Oh my God, we don’t have much time. They’re coming back. There are four of them.”
“We can take the bus,” Natalia said.
“What bus?” asked Kiley.
“There’s a detention bus outside,” said Carmen.
“Do you know how to—”
“Yes, Kiley, I used to drive a school bus before I became a reporter. Let me check for keys. Be right back.”
“Help me,” she said to Natalia, who then ran for the girls and motioned for them to follow her back outside.
Julio was trying to quietly slip t
hrough the doorway, and she yelled at him, pointing the gun at his face again. “No way, Jose.” She directed him over to one of the cages, grabbed his keys, and locked him inside.
She heard the diesel bus start. Natalia led the girls out through the door and up the steps into the white Department of Corrections bus.
Kiley was the last one to climb aboard.
Carmen ground the gears and the engine nearly flooded out, then lurched forward. Several of the girls screamed. Carmen swore, but then adjusted the clutch and smoothly drove them across the parking lot and out onto the street.
Kiley sat back and only then did she loosen her grip on the gun. She wondered if it was even loaded.
Chapter 21
When Jason and his three teammates landed in New York, all of them had messages delivered during their direct flight. The WIFI was out on the plane, so none of them were able to play the messages until they landed.
Jason’s was cryptic. Kyle gave him little details, but left him Colin Riley’s number so he could be filled in. Damon was on the phone with Martel. Ned was speaking to Madison, who was working at the Salty Dawg, while Tucker spoke to Brandy. It was clear Brandy was getting an earful from her husband. But nothing was going to dampen Jason’s mood.
He dialed Riley’s number, and after a greeting, he put Kiley on the phone with him.
“Are you okay? God, Kiley, I thought we’d lost you.”
“I’m fine. And better still, Carmen’s fine. And did you hear?”
“Honey, I’m hearing all sorts of things. Everyone is getting clued in, trust me. I got Tucker, Ned, and Damon with me. We’re about to board a plane for Portland in about a half hour.”
“I’m so glad you’re on U.S. soil, Jason.”
He heard her struggle to breathe. He knew she was crying. He felt his own eyes begin to water as well. “I never would have forgiven myself if something had happened to you. Promise me you won’t do this anymore. Please—”
Escape To Sunset: One Night Stand Romance-Hiding From The Mob (Sunset SEALs Book 4) Page 17