Harlequin Intrigue June 2015 - Box Set 2 of 2: Navy SEAL Newlywed\The Guardian\Security Breach (17 page)

“That's nice to know.” As they neared the outskirts of Norfolk, Rip had Ben take him to the airport where he rented a nondescript two-door sedan that looked like anything else on the streets.

On Hank's orders, Ben rented an SUV. In the separate vehicles, they drove farther out to a smaller, local airport and waited. The sun set around eight, which gave them two full hours to kill until Hank's plane would arrive with the money.

Rip leaned back in his vehicle and closed his eyes. Before each mission he'd performed with the Navy SEALs he'd force himself to relax, to let his body gather the strength he'd need to face the enemy. Each time he had known his skills and awareness were what stood between the enemy and his team. If he wasn't at his best, he was letting his team down.

With Tracie's life on the line, he had a harder time relaxing. Every sound made him jump and his body twitched with the need to take action. There was no way he'd relax until he had her back in his arms. His gunshot wound didn't help with the tension, but he ignored the pain, pushing it aside for now.

A few minutes before ten, the blinking lights of an incoming aircraft brought Rip out of the car and onto his feet.

The Citation X landed on the tarmac and pulled to a stop. When the stairs were lowered, a man in peak condition but with a shock of white hair stepped out of the plane and settled a cowboy hat on his head. Rip knew that face from the video feeds on board the Citation.

Ben joined Rip as they strode through the hangar and out onto the tarmac. “You haven't met Hank, have you?”

“Not in person.” Rip stepped forward. “Mr. Derringer, I'm Cord Schafer. Folks call me Rip.”

Hank's grip was firm. “Would rather have met you under better circumstances, but that's not important. What is important is getting Ms. Kosart back alive.”

“I like the way you think.”

Hank turned to the plane gangway and nodded at the man standing at the top with a suitcase in his hand. The man was big like a linebacker, making the door to the plane seem too small for his broad shoulders. He turned sideways and descended the steps.

Two more men followed him out of the plane.

“Rip, meet Chuck Bolton.” Hank indicated the man with the suitcase.

Chuck held out a hand and shook Rip's, practically crushing his fingers.

“Zachary Adams and Thorn Drennan will also be joining the team,” Hank said.

Zachary and Thorn both shook hands with Rip and then smiled and shook hands with Ben.

“Good to see you, Harding,” Adams said.

Ben turned to Chuck. “I hear you're expecting another kid. Congrats.”

Chuck nodded, a grin spreading across his face. “Didn't know being a dad was going to be so much work and so rewarding.”

Rip didn't have time for pleasantries.

Adams turned to Rip, his jaw tight, his brows furrowed. “Just so you know, I have a stake in this rescue operation. Tracie Kosart is my fiancée's twin. If I don't come back with good news, I've been told not to come back.”

Adam's words hit Rip in the chest. He hadn't known Tracie had a twin. Hell, he didn't know much about her at all. But damn it,
he would
. Once this thing was over, he would make Tracie see reason and go out with him. Then he'd ask all those questions they hadn't had time for since they'd met.

“We will get Ms. Kosart back,” Hank said. “There's no
if
about it.” He motioned Chuck forward and had him set the case on the ground. Then he bent to flick the catches open and stood back for the men to see inside.

Adams, Bolton, Harding and Drennan whistled, as impressed by the amount of cash packed into the case as Rip was.

“That's a lot of money to be carrying around,” Thorn said, his tone deep, resonant.

“A man could get killed carrying around such a stash.” Ben's voice filled the darkness.

“That's why I brought along a security detail.” Hank crossed his arms. “Though you'll be going in alone, my men will infiltrate the shipyard ahead of you and be there for you.”

Rip shook his head. “I don't know. If they get wind of any of you, it could jeopardize Tracie's safety.”

“My men are highly skilled, each coming to me with excellent records in their prior lives and positions.”

Rip's lips thinned. “Are you willing to bet Tracie's life on them?”

“I'm counting on them to help you get Tracie back alive.” Hank's eyes narrowed. “I value each and every member of my team and the people we swear to defend and protect. I won't let the men who've taken her hurt her. I give you my word.”

For a long moment Rip stared into Hank's eyes. The man appeared sincere and committed to getting Tracie back. “If that's the case, we need to be going. I'm due to meet with them at midnight.”

Bolton, Harding, Adams and Drennan helped offload an astonishing array of weapons from the plane into the SUV and then climbed in.

Hank stood beside Rip. “You need to arm yourself.”

“I have a .40 caliber strapped around my calf and a nine-millimeter Glock under my shirt. Anything more than that and they'll see it. I'm risking enough as it is. The idea is to give them the money and get Tracie out of there. If you and your men want to go after them, that's fine. I'll help as long as we get Tracie clear first.”

“I agree.” Hank touched a hand to Rip's arm. “We'll get her back.” The older man extended his hand and Rip shook it. When Hank withdrew his hand, he left what appeared to be a coin in Rip's palm. “I want you to have this.”

“What is it?” Rip turned the coin over. It looked like one of the gold-colored dollar coins he occasionally got for change from a soda machine.

“My good-luck charm. Although, for the most part, I believe in making my own luck. But it doesn't hurt to carry some with you.”

Rip shrugged and stuffed the coin in his pocket. “Thanks. I'm not supposed to be there until midnight. You and your men have until then to get into place.”

Hank climbed into the SUV with the other four operatives and they set off.

A glance at his watch made his stomach clench. One hour until he was to meet the men who held Tracie captive. For the first time in a long time he prayed. In the few days he'd known her, she'd come to mean more to him than any other woman he'd ever met. Never one to believe in love at first sight, he could be well on his way there with Hank's only female Covert Cowboy.

As he climbed into the little sedan, he thought back over all he and Tracie had been through together. No other woman he knew would have handled it as well. She was tough, but sensitive, passionate and gentle.

When he got her back, he'd insist they go out on a real date before he had to go back to Mississippi, and she headed back to Texas or wherever Hank chose to send her. Somehow he'd convince her that they should continue seeing each other.

The drive to Lion Shipyard took thirty minutes. For the next twenty, he parked in an empty parking lot outside the fenced-in compound, waited and prayed.

Chapter Seventeen

Tracie woke in a very dark, cramped place that smelled of old tires and gasoline. An engine rumbled, making her tomb vibrate. Based on the noise, darkness and movement beneath her, she was locked in the trunk of a car. The metal hood and walls of the vehicle seemed to close in around her. Her heart raced and her breaths came in short, spiky gasps. She had to calm herself or she'd pass out again.

Taking deep breaths of the smelly air, she forced herself to think of a way out of the vehicle. The backseats of many sedans were equipped with a fold-down seat to carry a long load from the trunk into the cab of the car.

Running her hands along the seam of the trunk lid, she searched for the emergency release lever. Her fingers encountered a ragged piece of metal she guessed was the broken lever. She redirected her search to the back of the seat, hoping to find a lever to release the locks holding the seat in place. If she could get through the backseat without being detected, she could somehow take out the driver and the passenger and make her escape. She found nothing but the hard back of the seat. What she needed was a weapon. The dress she'd worn had been so tight, hiding a gun or knife beneath it hadn't been an option, and they'd ditched her purse somewhere along the way. Tracie felt around the trunk, finding nothing but the shoes she'd been wearing and a hard metal tab.

Her heart thumped in her chest. Most new cars stored the spare tire beneath a panel in the trunk. The tab had to be there to allow access to the tools needed to change a tire, like a jack, the crank and a heavy wrench to loosen the lug nuts.

Tracie tried to roll to one side and out of the way so that she could get to the tools before the vehicle came to a stop. If she didn't have some way to defend herself, she could be dragged out on the ground and dispatched with a bullet in the back of her head.

She'd sworn she'd never allow herself to be kidnapped ever again. Not after Mexico. Yet here she was, captive in the trunk of a car heading who knew where. Her only hope was that Rip would be tearing up heaven and earth to find her.

She laughed, the sound choked by a sob. If only she could get the cover off the storage compartment, she might find a lug wrench or something heavy to hit her captors with and distract them long enough to get away. If Rip found her, she didn't want him to walk into a trap.

The SEAL had grown on her and she wanted to see him again. Preferably under better circumstances. She'd been toying with the idea and now knew, if she didn't die that night, she wanted to go out on that date with her “husband.”

Her lips curled at the irony of the situation. They were married before they'd had a first date. Okay, so the marriage had never taken place, but they'd done a helluva job pretending to be a married couple, and they had more in common than most married couples she knew.

They both loved a good firearm. They were both in dangerous lines of business, and they both wanted to live in a cabin in the mountains. Those few things she knew about him only made her want to know so much more. Like which was his favorite football team, could he ride a horse and did he have any living family members?

Thinking of family, Tracie wished she could get word to her sister. And tell her what?
I'm alive for the moment, but all bets are off when the car stops.

The car made a turn, rolling her to the side. With her hand on the tab, the cover came up with her and she shoved it aside.

Patting the well beneath her she felt around for the familiar hard steel of a lug wrench. A small temporary doughnut tire lay in the middle of the well. Beside it was what felt like a jack stand. She couldn't find a tire iron or lug wrench.

Damn.
What idiot drove a vehicle without the proper emergency equipment? She almost laughed hysterically at her thought, then sobered as the car slowed to a stop.

Fumbling to remove the jack stand from where it was screwed into the bottom of the well, she found a wing nut and twisted it loose as fast as she could. When she had it out, she set it aside.

The engine cut off and doors opened and closed.

Moving as quietly as she could, she slid the lid over the well and rolled over it. She pushed the jack stand behind her, hiding it and her hand from view.

When her captors opened the trunk, they'd be in for a big surprise.

The lock on the trunk popped and the lid rose, letting in only a small amount of light.

Tracie kept her eyes closed most of the way, peeking through the slits. When a man bent over and grabbed her arm, she launched herself at him, swinging her other hand with the jack stand in it at her attacker's head. It hit with a dull thump.

The man's grip loosened and he crumpled to the ground with a groan.

Tracie scrambled out of the trunk, falling to the ground beside the man she'd hit. Before she could scramble to her feet, the big man who'd captured her outside Blackburn grabbed her around the middle and held on.

She fought, kicking and biting until he slammed a fist into her face, hitting her cheek so hard, her head jerked back and everything faded to gray. She tried to hang on, willing her eyes to stay focused.

In the meantime, Vance Tate rose to his feet and backhanded her. “Bitch! I oughta kill you for that.” Blood oozed from a gash on Tate's temple and he wiped it away with the back of his sleeve.

Dizzy, her knees threatening to buckle, Tracie's head swayed in the dark searching for another escape plan. From what she could tell, they were in a dark alley between brick warehouses that were completely dark. Even if she screamed, she doubted anyone would hear her.

Headlights illuminated the darkness. A vehicle sped toward them. For a moment Tracie thought it wasn't going to stop, would run them over.

At the last minute, the vehicle, a black SUV, screeched to a halt, kicking up gravel and dust in their faces.

A man wearing a suit and a dark fedora stepped out of the vehicle, the hat pulled down over his forehead, hiding his eyes from them. “What's the meaning of this?” the man growled. “Why is she here?”

Vance jerked a thumb toward her. “This woman and her husband came to Blackburn today asking about purchasing guns.”

The man crossed his arms over his chest. “So?”

“They are the ones Delgado told us about. He's mad as hell and is on his way here. He thinks this woman and her husband are responsible for destroying his entire camp.”

“What does that have to do with me? You know I don't get involved in the details.”

“If this woman and her husband are responsible, as Delgado says they are, we could be in big trouble. I want out. I don't even know if she was involved, but it was too much of a coincidence.”

“Where's the husband?” Fedora demanded.

“I don't know. When I heard Delgado was on his way here, I left with the woman and called you immediately.”

“Look,” Tracie said, struggling against the arms locked around her middle. “I have no idea what you're talking about. This is just a big mistake. If you let me go, I'll walk away, no harm, no foul.”

“Shut up!” Vance popped the side of her head with a forceful slap.

Tracie tried to break free of the big man's hold, but he was stronger and refused to release her.

“It's too late,” Fedora said. “She already knows more than she should.”

“What do I know?” Tracie argued. “I came to buy guns for my vacation home in Costa Rica. I don't know what you two are talking about or who this Delgado guy is. Just let me go. My husband will be worried sick.”

As if she hadn't said a word, Fedora focused on Vance. “You know my policy.”

Vance's entire body shook. “Yes, sir, but—”

The mystery man held up his hand. “You've compromised my cover.”

“I had to. They know.”

“Know what? Really.” Tracie shook her head. “I have no idea what you're talking about. I just want to go home, kick up my feet and drink a very dry martini. Maybe two.”

Fedora man didn't move a muscle. In a voice that sent chills up and down Tracie's spine, he said, “Kill her.”

“Whoa, wait a minute,” Tracie said. “This is one big ugly mistake. If it's all the same to you, I'll buy my guns somewhere else.”

Vance backed up a step. “I'm not doing your dirty work for you. This is Delgado's mess. Other than a grainy photo and Delgado's text, I'm not even certain they did anything wrong.”

“We can settle that right now.” Fedora raised his hand and motioned for someone to join them. The passenger door of the SUV opened and a man dropped to the ground.

At first all Tracie could see was his silhouette. When he passed beside the headlights, she caught a glimpse of his face.

Carmelo Delgado.

Tracie's blood ran cold and she leaned her head forward, letting her hair fall partially over her face, praying the man didn't recognize her for the woman who had come to ask about his coffee plantation.

“Is this the woman?” Fedora asked.

Delgado walked straight up to her, grabbed a handful of hair and yanked it back, exposing her face to the headlights.

“Si.”
He cursed in Spanish and then backhanded her so hard, she almost fell. If not for the big guy's arm around her middle, she would have been knocked to the ground.

Her jaw and cheek ached and the tissue around her right eye began to swell.

“Kill her,” Fedora demanded.

Delgado's eyes narrowed and he pulled his fist back to hit her again.

“Wait.” Vance held up a hand. “You can't kill her. Her husband is still running around out there. I've arranged for him to meet me at Lion's Shipyard at midnight. He'll want proof she's alive before he reveals himself to us.”

Delgado looked to Fedora.

For a long moment, Fedora paused. “How did you get him to agree to come?”

“I told him to bring five million dollars in cash in exchange for his wife.”

“Where exactly are you meeting him?” Fedora straightened the sleeve of his suit jacket, appearing to be in no hurry.

Warning bells went off in Tracie's head. The man was like a snake, quietly tensing to strike.

“At Lion's Shipyard, pier ten.” Vance added, “At midnight.”

“How did you arrange this?”

Vance pulled a cell phone out of his pocket. “I used this disposable phone. I signed up for it using a fake name.”

“Clever,” Fedora said. “Let me see that.” He held out his hand.

Vance placed the phone in the man's hand.

In the next second, the world exploded around Tracie, and Vance fell. Knocking into the man holding her and taking them both down.

Another gunshot made the big guy jerk and then his arm loosened.

Slightly dazed, Tracie fought to free herself from the tangle of bodies.

Delgado yanked her up by the hair, jerked her hands behind her back and secured them with a zip tie. He tossed her over his shoulder and carried her to the back of the SUV and dumped her inside.

Her night wasn't going very well at all, but Vance and his bouncer friend's had ended even worse.

Tracie vowed to live long enough to return Delgado's favor and slug him in the face. Then she'd figure a way out of the mess she was in and expose the man in the Fedora. He seemed to have the power, and she planned to bring him down.

* * *

A
T
TEN
MINUTES
to midnight, Rip found a gap beneath the fence and slid the suitcase full of money under the chain link, then he dropped to the ground and rolled beneath the wire. Once inside he patted the gun in the holster under his shirt. It was little reassurance against an enemy he didn't know much about. All he knew was that Vance had taken Tracie. How many more men would show up to protect his investment was a mystery.

He walked between tall stacks of huge metal containers, aiming for the end of the dock where pier ten was located. Right at midnight he arrived and waited in the shadows of the containers, craning his neck to see beyond, hoping to catch a glimpse of Tracie. Nothing moved. He didn't know whether or not Hank's team was in place.

At three minutes past twelve, his cell phone rang.

He fumbled in his pocket for the device and answered.

“There is a forklift three rows from where you are standing. Get in it and drive it down to pier number six. Leave your cell phone where you're standing. If anyone follows you, the girl is dead. You have exactly two minutes to get there. If you aren't there by then, the girl dies. Now go!”

“I want to hear her voice. Prove to me she's alive,” he demanded. His demand was greeted with the silence of the call having ended. With less than a minute to spare, he dropped his phone, ran two aisles of containers over and found the forklift with the key still in it. Rip pushed the lever toward the front of the device and the forklift shot forward. Manipulating the many levers, he finally got the forklift heading in the right direction, having wasted too much time already.

He raced past several piers, counting backward from Pier ten to the sixth one. He would have to handle the exchange alone. If the others moved closer to pier six, they would be seen and risk tipping off Tracie's kidnappers. The money didn't mean anything to him. Tracie did.

Hopefully, with the amount of money they'd demanded, her captors wouldn't feel the need to kill her. Then again, they'd killed the DEA agent to keep their secret. Rip figured there was little chance they'd take the money and leave the girl. Alive.

As he pulled to a halt in front of pier six, he remained in the forklift, hunkered low, using the heavy-duty frame of the machine to shield himself as best he could. He didn't care if he lived or died, but he had to make sure Tracie was safe. He couldn't do that if he was picked off by a sniper.

Shutting off the forklift's engine, he sat for a moment, waiting for Vance to emerge with Tracie. Poised to throw himself off the forklift, he twitched, ready for action, ready to get this over with.