Ultimate Escape (3 page)

“
W
hat did you find
?” Cruz asked Sam.

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” Sam replied.

“Stay close.”

Cruz disconnected and called Ace, not taking his eyes off the woman as she strolled down the crowded street.

“Ace, this isn’t adding up,” Cruz said when his old friend answered.

“What?” he said.

“I’ve had eyes on her since she landed, and I have eyes on her right now. I’ve never seen a trafficker do anything like this.”

“Like what?”

“She rode a shuttle from the airport, checked in, and now she’s walking down the street like she’s never been in a city before. This doesn’t feel like business to me.”

“Maybe she’s never been here before. Even traffickers take vacations,” Ace said.

“Ha-ha. But my gut’s telling me something is off,” Cruz said.

“Well, maybe you should have a chat with her.”

“Maybe I should. I’ll be back in touch.”

Cruz disconnected and continued to trail behind the woman. He’d chosen not to mention the little interlude on the bus, but he knew it was part of the reason he was so unsettled. He was not unaccustomed to the appreciative female gaze, but that look… Scorching didn’t even begin to describe it. The naked lust in her eyes, the hungry gaze that had moved over his body almost reverently…

Even knowing the purpose behind her visit hadn’t extinguished the flame that her eyes on him had sparked. And the way the blood had rushed from his head and centered in his cock had been undeniable.

But it wasn’t just the lust that had gotten to him. That was a human response, nothing more, but behind it had been a softness, an openness and honesty in her gaze that he was more and more convinced was genuine. He saw it now as she walked down the street, face full of awe with each new thing she saw.

Like he’d said, it just didn’t add up.

Maybe a guy had put her up to this, a relative, a boyfriend, because he couldn’t wrap his head around the idea that this woman had any idea what she’d gotten into.

But he’d get to the bottom of it soon enough.

Nola had left the hotel in search of food and to see more of the city. She wasn’t brave enough to venture too far, but the half block she’d come was mind-blowing. The crowds moved around her, the noise and movement of the city as vibrant as she’d seen from the bus. Of course, she had no idea what she was going to eat. The travel guides had warned to be selective with food vendors, so Nola was at something of a loss. But when she looked up and saw those familiar golden arches, she smiled and headed toward them.

A nine-thousand-mile flight to eat at McDonald’s. Maybe not the most daring choice, but baby steps.

An hour later, full of french fries and the best milkshake she’d ever had, Nola headed back to the hotel. When she entered the semidarkness of the cool hotel room, she perked, excited for a shower and then sleep. She could start sightseeing tomorrow, and was particularly looking forward to the tour of the Viet Cong tunnels and then the Ben Thanh Market.

But something made her stop in the door frame.

The room felt different, and she froze, hand still wrapped around the doorknob.

Her body was still, but her mind raced with a thousand possibilities, each worse than the one before it, the terrible thoughts crowding her mind until she thought her head might explode with them. She could practically hear her mother’s admonition that she shouldn’t have come here. This trip had been exciting, fun, but now, as she looked at the enormous man who stood in the middle of her hotel room, Nola knew she was going to die.

“
I
don’t have much
, but you’re welcome to it,” the woman said, her voice wavering but strong.

“Take your hand off the door. Close it quickly. Do not scream,” Cruz commanded.

The woman looked genuinely terrified, but that wasn’t his problem. He took one step toward her, and she quickly closed the door, and when it clicked shut, tears began running down her cheeks.

“You can keep those because they won’t change anything,” he said.

And ordinarily they wouldn’t have, but there was more than a little bravado behind his words. The tears seemed as genuine as the woman.

“Come here,” he said, probably more softly than he should have.

She shook her head.

“Come here,” he repeated.

She took one step, then another, her entire body quaking with each tentative movement.

“I…I can get you money. All I can find. You can have it.”

Her voice was barely audible, and her body was racked with shivers. The sight of her fear, so different than the awe and amusement that had lit her face before, tugged at Cruz, softening him and at the same time pissing him off
because
it softened him.

“Keep your money. All I want to know is who you’re meeting and where?”

Behind the tears and terror that shone even in the darkness of the room, Cruz saw the surprise in her cloudy gaze and in the way her brows knit together.

“Meet…?”

The confusion in her face was reflected in her voice, and she shook her head.

Frustration rose, and Cruz closed the distance between them in three steps. When he touched her forearm, she shrieked and jerked away. Tried to at least, but Cruz grasped her before she could flee.

Holding her arm, he walked them into the adjoining sitting room and then pushed her into an armchair.

“Relax. I’m not going to hurt you,” Cruz said, worried that she was about to faint or, even worse for him, freak out. When he stepped closer, she looked up at him and then glanced away quickly. But then the furrow in her brow deepened, and she looked at him again, recognition lighting her gaze.

“The shuttle…” she whispered.

He’d held on to the small hope that she wouldn’t recognize him, but the charged moment that passed between them was apparently something that couldn’t be ignored or forgotten. He’d have to use it to his advantage.

“Yeah, the shuttle. Which means I’ve had eyes on you all day. I know you haven’t made the drop yet, so you can still help yourself. Tell me what your drop point is and who you’re meeting, and I’ll let you go.”

Slightly disingenuous because whoever she was working for would be much less forgiving, but he couldn’t be swayed by that.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just on vacation.”

“So explain why I have good intel that confirms the person traveling on flight 936 out of Atlanta and sitting in seat 5A, your seat, is bringing in highly valuable information regarding highly illegal trafficking?”

He hadn’t thought it possible, but her already wide-as-a-doe’s eyes widened even farther.

“My seat?”

“Yes, your seat, 5A.”

Her face practically crumpled, and Cruz thought she really would pass out. She lifted her hand to her mouth, the gesture surprisingly gentile given the situation.

“Oh no. This can’t be happening.”

“It’s happening. Now, where’s the drop and who are you meeting?”

“That wasn’t my seat,” she said faintly.

“What?” Cruz barked, the woman jumping at the sound of his voice.

“That wasn’t my seat. Someone gave me 5A. I switched with…”

She trailed off again and looked away, seeming to retreat into her own thoughts. “I knew something was wrong, but it was a window seat and first class. Oh God. I’m gonna die because I didn’t want to fly coach,” the woman said.

Then she slumped back against the chair, and her face twisted as if she bore the weight of the world. And then the tears started, silent, almost dignified.

Cruz stared at her, that unfamiliar uncertainty creeping back stronger than ever. The intel hadn’t specified the merchandise, but the team had suspected trafficking, and trafficking meant money, and people didn’t hesitate to kill over money. As he watched, that uncertainty exploded to full-blown unease. Her story was far-fetched, but this whole job had felt wrong from the start, and if she’d switched seats…

“What is your name, and where are you from?”

“Nola,” she said quietly, turning frightened, soulful brown eyes up at him. “Nola Bailey. I’m from Thornehill Springs, North Carolina.”

Cruz pulled his lips into a tight line. This had just gotten much more complicated.

T
he man glared at Nola
, his stunning eyes as icy now as they’d been warm on the shuttle. When she’d entered and seen that figure standing in her room, every horrible thought imaginable had filled her mind, turned her blood to dread-filled sludge that felt like it could barely move through her body. That dread had intensified as he’d asked his questions, ones that Nola had no answers for, but when she’d said her name and where she was from, something had shifted. His expression hadn’t changed, but there’d been the faintest recognition in his eyes.

So she latched onto it, praying that it was a lifeline, something that she could grasp and maybe use to help herself.

“Thornehill Springs?” he said.

She nodded quickly. “Yes. Have you hear—”

Her words died in her throat as she watched him. His body stilled and he tilted his head slightly, face contorted with concentration.

The breath-stealing fear that had receded ever so slightly roared back at full force when he reached into his waistband with his huge, intimidating hand that was only made more so by the gun that he now held.

A shriek bubbled in her throat, but Nola managed to swallow it when he put a finger to his mouth. He extended his hand and beckoned her, and Nola had no choice but to comply. She stood on shaky legs and moved close to him.

His gaze met hers, seeking, and he seemed satisfied with whatever he found there. He leaned close, and though fear still gripped her, Nola didn’t move away. The brush of his warm breath tickled her ear and then his words penetrated her brain.

“You’d better be on the up-and-up, Nola Bailey. Because we have company.”

He hadn’t asked a question, but Nola nodded and didn’t pull away when he grasped her wrist. His hold was firm but not threatening and as improbable as it seemed, his touch comforted her. It was wishful thinking, her last gasp of hope, but he’d had time to kill her a thousand times over, and she still breathed. That had to mean something.

Hand holding her wrist, he moved to the suite’s large, well-appointed bathroom, one that she’d fallen in love with on first sight. He pushed her behind the rosewood credenza that held linen and whispered, “Be silent and don’t move.”

With that he moved to the opposite corner of the vast bathroom, and Nola’s panic increased. She stared at him imploringly, but he didn’t spare her a glance, and instead stood confidently, eyes glued to the partially closed bathroom door, weapon up and at the ready.

Understanding clicked in her mind. It would take a second or two for someone entering the bathroom to notice him, but he had no such disadvantage. From where he stood, he had an unobstructed view of the door, and from his periphery, he could see the bathroom mirror, which reflected partial views of the bedroom and sitting room.

He had a plan, and most importantly, he wasn’t leaving her.

Nola held to that. It had to mean something that he hadn’t left her. She wasn’t sure about him or what he wanted, but she knew with certainty she was far better off with him than whoever and whatever awaited her outside. Being with him was the best of all of the awful alternatives and he seemed to have her safety in mind. She tried to make that her sole focus, something that got harder as the seconds passed and the muffled voices that had begun in the living area drifted ever closer. With each moment that passed, her heart beat a little harder and her nerves got a little more frayed, so frayed she thought she might burst from the tension of it. Or even worse, scream.

With that thought, the urge to scream, to flee, to do anything but stand there overwhelmed her, and Nola quickly jammed her fist into her mouth and bit down, desperate to stifle the sound. The sharp pain of her teeth piercing her hand helped focus her, and though she didn’t let up, the urge calmed just enough that she didn’t scream.

She glanced at him again, noting that he hadn’t moved a bit. But this time, he did look in her direction and even in the shrouded shadows of the bathroom, she could see his unspoken admonition.

One voice, then another, closer this time, and she realized that the intruders had reached the sitting room. They spoke in hushed whisper tones, not that it was necessary. Her Vietnamese started at
xin chao
and ended at
tam biet
. But she didn’t need to speak the language to know that they were moving through the room, methodically, unrelentingly, and that they would soon enter the bathroom and find them.

The man knew it, too. He seemed even more alert now, his large frame strung tight, ready for an attack, one she prayed would never come. She bit down even harder, begging the Lord to let this be over soon.

The sound of a zipper opening and then stuff being tossed filled the room. And oddly, the noise helped her focus. If she could picture what they were doing, she wouldn’t have to wonder how close they were, how close she was to the end. No, instead she could listen.

To the stuff being thrown.

To the softly voiced whispers.

To the receding footsteps.

She dropped her hand and exhaled for what felt like the first time in hours and then looked at the man, who still hadn’t moved. She started to take a step, but he shook his head twice, eyes never leaving the door. Nola froze, foot in midair. The pounding of her heart redoubled in its intensity, drowning out all other sound. But though she couldn’t hear, she knew something was wrong.

And so, not breathing, not moving, she watched the man as he watched the door.

Watched the mirror from the corner of her eye.

Watched the door move ever so slightly open.

And watched the tight, corded muscle of his forearm flex as he pulled the trigger.

What she didn’t watch was the trajectory of his two rapid shots. Or of the two that came after.

He moved quickly as he fired, crossing the bathroom in what seemed an instant, but Nola stood where she was, kept her eyes on the spot he’d vacated.

Time passed, though she couldn’t have said how much. And where before she’d wanted out, right now, this bathroom seemed the safest place, the only place where she wouldn’t have to confront what had happened. Suddenly, light flooded the bathroom. Nola blinked twice but didn’t move.

“Hey,” the man said, shaking her. “Hey,” he repeated when she didn’t turn.

Then he stood in front of her, body close enough that she felt its heat. He grasped her chin and lifted, forcing her to meet his eyes. He didn’t speak again, but she saw the worry that marred his face.

“You all right?” he finally said.

“D-did I…? Did they hear me?” she croaked.

She didn’t bother to ask if they were dead, his relative calm confirmation enough of that fact. His eyes softened as he shook his head.

“No. They would have come in either way. I’m sorry you had to see that,” he said. When he spoke again his voice was gentle. “Does this look familiar?”

He held up a small black memory stick.

“N-no. I’ve never seen that before,” Nola responded, surprised she’d even managed to get words out.

“This was what they were looking for. And they’ll have backup. We gotta go now.”

And as he’d done what now felt like an eternity ago, he grabbed her wrist and led her, this time out of the room.