Sinful Deception (Covert Affairs Book 3) (9 page)

Get away.

The door opened, and the car started moving all at the same time. She dove for the opening.

“What the fuck?” the driver yelled, then swerved, and the car door slammed in her face. The passenger jerked her back, and her head hit his shoulder, shooting pain through her temple.

“You fucking bitch,” the guy next to her yelled. “I’m gonna kill you.” To the driver, he said, “I’m bleedin’, man. I’m
bleedin
’.”

“Shut the fuck up,” the driver yelled. “Tie her hands with something.”

Her mind pinged everywhere—Marcus, her brother, her parents, her own imminent death, who these men were, what they wanted. Panic swirled in the background, but somehow, Tova kept it caged.

“I don’t know where Cedro is,” she said.

“Then maybe you’ll just have to come up with the money he owes us.”

She watched the neighborhood flash past her windows, trying to keep track of her location, but her brain was clouded with fear.

“Stay tough.”
She heard Cedro’s voice in her head, words he’d told her as a girl when he’d taught her how to fight.
“Always stay tough.”

“I don’t know what money you’re talking about,” Tova told them. “I sure as hell don’t have any. And if you don’t stop, I’m going to throw up.”

The car skidded around a corner and turned onto the main boulevard. Sirens sounded in the distance, and her mind shot back to Marcus.

Marcus. God.
She wanted him.

The man beside her shoved her forward with a hand on her back and jerked her arms together, wrapping something around her wrists. Then he pushed her down on the seat. “Now hold still and just shut the fuck up. You’re lucky I don’t kill you, bitch.”

Her head throbbed, and the pain stretched down into her neck. Her shoulders. Her spine. Would they rape her? Torture her? Kill her? Her mind cut off the unthinkable and turned back to Marcus. Either he’d called the cops or the gunshot had brought them. She had no idea if her emergency call had gone through before the guy had knocked her phone out of her hand. But there were no sirens behind her now, and hopelessness sucked at her heart.

She fought it back. She could get through this. Her parents needed her. Cedro needed her.

Stay tough.

The car squealed around another corner, slowed, bumped over a curve, and jerked to a stop. How long had they been driving? Ten minutes? Fifteen? She couldn’t be far from home.

“Yo, bro,” the guy beside her said. “I need a hospital.” The driver’s door slammed, and he swore. “You fucking bitch. I can’t believe you
shot
me. I swear to God—”

Her door opened, and a meaty hand grabbed her arm and hauled her out of the car.

Tova squinted into the darkness. They were in an open space with low brush and trees, and she scoured her mind for their location. There were several parks near her house…but she had no way of telling if this was one.

A man approached from the darkness, Hispanic but smaller than the other two, and calmer. “Where’s your brother?”

“Christ,” she said, “He’s in
Mexico
. Why would you think he’s here? He can’t get into the United Sta—”

A hand connected with her face, and her head jerked sideways. Hard. Her neck tweaked. Pain launched through her cheek, forehead, mouth, shoulders. A sob ebbed from her throat, and she gasped for air.

“You’re here. He’s been here. And he owes us money,” the calm one said. “All of our debts get paid, one way or another. And someone’s going to pay—in cash or blood.”

Her mind searched for answers. Cedro must have run the border again, agreed to some desperate arrangement to make payment when he got here. She scanned her bank accounts, then friends she might be able to borrow money from. “H-how much?”

“Twenty grand.”

Disbelief clouded her mind. “
Twenty—?
”

“You heard me. And we want it.
Now
.”

“I— I— We—” What could she say? She didn’t have it. She knew Cedro didn’t have it. Had no idea how they could get it. “Why?”

“Why doesn’t matter. What matters is he owes. And that he betrayed us. Either you find your brother and tell us where he is…” The man leaned closed, reached back, and fisted Tova’s hair, jerking her head hard. Pain crawled over her scalp, and she cried out. “Or you’ll be the one to pay for his debt, chica.”

* * * * *

Marcus turned onto Sugarman Lane with squealing tires and jerked to a stop where all the cop cars were clustered on the corner. He’d had too much time to think on his way over—thirty excruciating minutes to imagine all that could have happened to Tova. What might
be
happening to Tova right this minute. What could still happen to Tova.

He jumped out of the truck and jogged toward the house where cops huddled near the door. These were multimillion dollar homes, which didn’t fit with Tova’s rendition of money problems—roommate or not.

“Who’s in charge?” he yelled before he’d even reached the sidewalk.

“Brooks,” one of the cops near the door called inside. “Lucero’s here.”

Zoe Brooks had been Marcus’s teammate on the line until a few months before, when she’d transferred into investigations at Immigrations and Customs Enforcement, a branch of Department of Homeland Security. He’d called her as soon as he’d left his house to ask her for help with the local authorities and extra resources for Tova’s case. But he hadn’t expected Zoe to come herself.

She met Marcus in the foyer, and he pulled her into a hug. She wore jeans, a T-shirt, and running shoes. She was young and pretty, and one of the toughest agents he’d ever worked with. He’d trusted her with his life on numerous occasions.

“What are you doing here?” He pulled away, holding her by the arms.

“It turns out Tova Sorensen’s brother, Cedro Sorensen, has popped up on our radar as a two-time loser at the border.” She glanced around and lowered her voice. “I
may
have dirtied up that information
just
a touch to give us an in. That and a busy night for the locals allowed us to play.”

Marcus didn’t know what to think about Tova anymore. “Sorensen’s not American?”

Zoe tilted her head toward the hall, indicating she wanted to talk privately. When they’d stepped several yards away from the others and into a darkened living room, Zoe kept her voice low. “You’ve stumbled onto quite a mishmash here, my friend. Cedro Sorensen is a Mexican national.”

He slapped a hand to his forehead. “Tova? Fuck, is
she
American?”

Zoe rested a hand on his arm and gave him a gentle squeeze. “Tova is American. The only American in the family. They were born to the same parents—one Mexican, one Swedish, but Tova was born in San Ysidero, Cedro in Tijuana.”

The turmoil that must exist in her family instantly filled Marcus’s mind.

“We contacted Tova’s parents in Mexico, who say they haven’t heard from Cedro in a week, and they’re credible.” Zoe released his arm and started down the hall, “Come on back here with me.”

As they walked down a hardwood-floored hallway, Zoe said, “The house is owned by a Kelly Burton, male, thirty-three. He inherited the house from his mother when she died two years ago. He’s a flight attendant for Delta, and he’s currently in Arizona on a layover. Comes home tomorrow. He confirmed that Tova is his roommate and that she house-sits and cat-sits for him when he’s out of town. She works nights at Studio Diner and attends UCSD.”

He relaxed a little. “That all lines up with what she told me.”

Zoe and Marcus donned gloves and booties handed over by one of the cops standing at the door, then stepped into a room—Tova’s room. He recognized it from the videos. But seeing it, standing in it, seemed…surreal. The reality of it put a whole different spin on the situation. Before this, Tova had been an infatuation, an intangible fantasy, no more real than a clear daydream. Now, she was real. Flesh-and-blood real. And his infatuation with her seemed to morph into true affection.

“Clay,” Zoe said to the crime scene tech dusting for prints, “can we have a few minutes?”

“Sure.” He lifted his dark head from inspecting the surface of the hardwood floor, nodded to Marcus, and exited the room.

Marcus couldn’t take his gaze off the blood smears on the polished hardwood floor. Couldn’t pull his mind from the sight of the object—he still didn’t know what it had been—hitting Tova’s shoulder or hearing her cry out.

“Marcus?”

He refocused on Zoe and wiped sweat from his forehead. “What?”

She licked her lips, glanced around the room, and Marcus’s gaze followed—to the stripper pole, to her open closet where sexy costumes and lingerie hung, to the webcam, to the sparkling heels at their feet. “When you called and said she was a friend, I didn’t question you. But…how, exactly, do you know Tova?”

Marcus wiped his face with both hands. “I met her online.”

“Like a chat room?”

Fuuuuuuck.
He rubbed his eyes. “Sort of.”

He took a deep breath and explained how they’d met.

Zoe’s lips twisted; her brow furrowed. She pressed the clipboard in her hands to her chest and crossed her arms over the top. “I’ve known you a long time, Marcus. This”
—
she gestured with one hand to the room
—
“isn’t you. You can’t even approach a woman at a bar. You always wait for them to make the first move. The guys had to virtually drag you to a strip club for a bachelor’s party, for God’s sake.”

He wasn’t about to waste time trying to explain why he thought Tova was different. “You’re right, it’s not me. I’ve been working a lot, haven’t had time to date, which I suck at anyway. Trigger suggested… Never mind. I was just trying it out.”

“There’s your first mistake—taking advice from Trigger on women,” she said. “But I have heard about the work. I talked to Trig two weeks ago. He says you’re still working like a dog, even after they’ve got the new guy trained.”

He held up his hands and fought to hold on to his patience. “Zoe, I appreciate your concern. I do. But right now, I need to focus on Tova—”

“Everything that can be done to find Tova is being done. And this confirms what Trigger was telling me when he said you haven’t been yourself for months. I’m really worried about you. We both know everyone’s safety is compromised when one person pushes himself too hard. Trigger says you’re obsessed with arrests, that you’re taking chances with your safety. He’s even gone as far as to say you’ve become reckless in order to get the takedown.”

“Really?” He planted his hands on his hips. “This coming from a woman whose last assignment ended with a smuggler’s gun in her face?”

“Maybe that’s
why
it’s coming from me. We both took Cody’s death hard. We both drove ourselves harder after his death. I found a way out before it killed me. I want that for you too.”

“I know, Zoe. I know.” Marcus blew out a breath, raked both hands through his hair, and paced Tova’s room. Her bedroom window faced the street that intersected Sugarman. “Do we have any leads?”

“Uniforms are still canvassing, but initial reports from the neighbors say the vehicle is a dark-colored, four-door sedan, most likely a Toyota, with a very loud muffler—not the smartest kidnappers in the bunch. But no license plates, so your descriptions of the attackers are the best we’re going to get.”

“Fuck.” Marcus folded his arms and stood at the window, fighting to keep horrible visions of what might be happening to Tova out of his head.

At the end of the block, a small sedan turned the corner onto the side street. Not a cop cruiser. Then it took a sharp, jerky U-turn and squealed as it took off again. “What the—”

His words cut off at the sight of a shadow moving in the dark. Rolling into the pool of yellow cast by the streetlight. Before it reached the edge of the light, Marcus recognized the size and shape of a bound and gagged body.

“Tova.” He’d turned and run before his brain had fully engaged.

“It’s them,” he yelled as he darted down the hall and out the front door, pulling his weapon from the holster at his hip. To the cops he left behind on the lawn, he called, “Suspects headed West on La Jolla Scenic. Small dark sedan. Go after them,
dammit
.”

Marcus bolted out the door and down the street. The few seconds it took to reach Tova seemed to stretch and expand, his gaze soaking in the terrifying sight of her still in the flood of harsh yellow. His mind pinged to the way the asphalt jarred his body, unlike the dirt on the Mesa. He prayed she was still alive. Hoped they hadn’t raped her. Terrified of seeing the damage they’d done.

Then he was there. His heart in the pit of his stomach. Holstering his weapon. Falling to his knees. Turning her toward him by the shoulders. Scanning her face, her sweatshirt, her legs for major injuries. Blood smeared her cheek and chin. Her hands were bound behind her, duct tape around her ankles and covering her mouth.

“Oh God, Tova.” He pushed her hair off her face. “Tova.”

Zoe crouched on the other side of Tova and pressed a hand to her carotid. Three units whipped down the street, lights and sirens blaring.