Abducted: Reconnaissance Team (Texas Rangers: Special Ops Book 1) (6 page)

When the American connected Liz with Adam, the Mexican had said ‘
a cop
.’ It hadn’t been a statement, but a question.

The Mercedes turned onto a private drive and passed through a grove of palm trees. Her heart beat faster—something she hadn’t thought possible. Why would these men suspect Adam of being a cop? Why would a cop model at a fashion party? Maybe trying to catch the criminals that now held her hostage?

The car left the trees and stars spread across the sky as far as the eye could see. The Mercedes’ headlights washed across the white adobe of a single story house with an arched doorway. Beyond the house, Liz glimpsed tall palms. A chill sliced deep through her trembling insides. She was about to die.

You’re not dead yet.
Think.
Was Larissa involved in criminal activity? More likely, her millionaire husband was involved. He wouldn’t be the first man to have made his fortune on the wrong side of the law.

Adam being an undercover cop would explain much about his behavior. After twenty-five years in the fashion industry, she knew models—their attitudes, their sense of self-importance. When Adam modeled for the job, he’d done nothing untoward to set off alarms. But tonight he’d acted more like a date than an employee. Then he’d disappeared with Larissa.

The Mercedes stopped in front of the hacienda. Liz’s heart jumped into her throat.

The American shoved open the door, then grasped her arm, pulled her from the car. “You go ahead and scream now, if you like. No one will notice. But you’ll piss off Carlos and you won’t like the consequences.” 

“What?” she snapped. “He’ll kill me twice?” 

“A lot can happen before death.” He dragged her toward the house.

Liz kicked his shin. He cursed and she twisted free. As he raised his hand, she slammed her knee toward his groin, but the back of his hand smacked her cheek. She spun and hit sand. Numbing pain spread across her face. The American yanked her to her feet.

Hysterical laughter bubbled up. If Adam Billings was an undercover cop, she hoped like hell his real name was Rambo.

The man who’d spoken with Sanchez earlier entered the dining room and Ben sipped his wine as he crossed to Sanchez and whispered in his ear. Sanchez’s gaze shifted onto Ben, and cold dread seeped through him. Sanchez nodded and the man left, pulling the doors closed behind him

“Perhaps you can explain something,” Sanchez said.

“If I can,” Ben replied.

Sanchez rose. “Come with me.” 

Ben stared. The bodyguard standing nearest the door took a step forward.

“Have I offended you?” Ben asked

“Not yet.” 

Ben glanced at the goon, then followed Sanchez down a short hall. The goon trailed him. Sanchez stopped in front of the third closed door on the left. He opened the door and Ben caught sight of a queen-sized bed covered with a Southwestern style quilt in reds and greens. His heart hammered when the traffics dealer motioned him inside. 

“What am I getting myself into here?” Ben kept his tone casual.

“A simple explanation.” 

A strong shove propelled him into the room. Liz Monahan stood to the far right of the bed, a man gripping each arm. Her expression mirrored his:
What the hell are you doing here?

Her hair was disheveled and Ben detected a slight swelling on the upper left hand corner of her mouth. One of the goons had slapped her. Rage tightened his insides. She didn’t look or act like a woman who’d been raped. That thought kept him from pummeling the two goons on the spot. But he would arrest them before this operation was finished.

Ben riveted his gaze onto Sanchez. “What’s she doing here?” 

“She was caught eavesdropping on my men.” 

Eavesdropping?
He hadn’t heard right.

“What are you talking about?” 

“We caught her on the balcony,” the man to her left said.

Ben shifted his gaze onto the muscular Mexican and demanded, “What balcony?”

“What difference does it make?” the man said.

Ben turned toward Sanchez. “Tell your man to answer my question.”  

Sanchez nodded and the other man, an American, said, “We went into one of the upstairs rooms to talk business and caught her out there listening.” 

Ben looked at Sanchez. “Don’t your men know to check a room before talking business?” Before Sanchez could reply, Ben added, “This woman isn’t some kid who won’t be missed for a couple of weeks. She runs a top design company. Her colleagues will be expecting her back at her hotel tonight. Your men stepped in it this time, Sanchez.” 

“You are so sure?” Sanchez asked.

“If you’re foolish enough to think that the disappearance of
any
woman won’t put the cops on alert, then you’re not the businessman I thought you were. Those two dead girls got national media attention. Reporters are aching for more action from the Border Patrol. You can bet calls for the Rangers won’t be far behind. You’ll have to transport your cargo fifty miles south of Juarez, maybe even move to Laredo—though that’s damn close for my taste after this fuckup. Chances are, you’ll have to work strictly out of California for a while.” 

“I have no intention of giving up the Texas border,” Sanchez said.

“You’re a fool if you think Remmey’s transports will get across the border without inspection after this. She—” Ben nodded at Liz “—disappeared from Remmey’s party, which means the cops will watch everything he does like a hawk. As for your other transports, they’ll get caught and you’ll have Federal Police crawling all over this nice little hacienda.” 

“I own the police,” Sanchez said.

“That’s a big claim, but we both know you don’t own them all—especially your Chief of Police, who’s doing his damndest to rid Juarez of our kind. He’ll jump at the chance to team up with US authorities, and even your friends are going to be hard pressed to find their loyalty.” Ben shrugged. “But that’s your problem. I said I wouldn’t interfere with your business and I meant it. You can figure out how to deal with this. Have your driver take me back to El Paso.” 

Liz gave a small cry, but Ben kept his expression passionless.

“Perhaps this is the perfect test to cement our trust,” Sanchez said.

Ben snorted. “You’re talking murder.” 

“It wouldn’t be your first,” Sanchez said.

“You’ll never get away with it,” Liz blurted. “I’m already late. By now, my friends are down at the police station filing a report.” 

Ben looked at her. “We all know it takes forty-eight hours before a missing persons report can be filed.” 

“Not when you have connections,” she shot back.

Damn, the woman had backbone. “Connections won’t do you a damn bit of good now.” 

Her eyes narrowed. “That’s not what you’re telling him.” 

Ben laughed. “No, what I’m telling him is that he’s in a shit load of trouble. You, on the other hand, are dead. Big difference.” 

Shock widened her eyes and guilt twisted through Ben. He hated doing this to her, but she needed to be scared—to look scared.

Sanchez shifted his gaze onto Liz. “Why were you eavesdropping?”

Ben snorted before she could answer, and said, “Looking for me, I’d say. I was her date for the evening. I guess she doesn’t like being ditched. That’ll teach me to accept a date unseen.” 

Liz lifted her chin. “You overestimate your charms, Mr. Billings.” 

“I doubt it.” He gave a single shake of his head. “What a waste. You can’t do anything with her. She’s too old.” 

“I beg your pardon?” Liz burst out, and Ben bit back a laugh. Only a woman would be outraged by an insult intended to save her life.

“Yes,” Sanchez replied. “She would never submit.” 

Ben raked his gaze down her body. Damn her. She looked even better than she had at the start of the evening. There was something about a woman whose clothes and hair were tousled.

“The attempt would be one helluva ride, though,” he murmured.

Her eyes widened.

Ben looked at Sanchez. “I’ll deal with her—my way.” 

Sanchez’s brows rose. “What is your way?” 

“You and your men get out. I don’t like witnesses. Once I’m done, I bury the body—alone.” 

Sanchez nodded. “Do you need a weapon?” 

Ben gave a small smile. “No.” 

Liz’s eyes narrowed. “You’d better take the gun. You’re going to need it.” 

Ben laughed. The woman was either stupid or the most courageous female he’d ever met. He hoped for courageous. Otherwise, they were both dead.

* * *

Liz’s heart thundered in her chest as the door clicked shut behind the four men. Before she could utter a peep, Adam shoved her against the wall. She cried out an instant before his body crashed into hers. His hips pressed heavy against her abdomen, and she shoved at his chest. The immovable wall of muscle forced her palms flat against his chest. Liz became aware of the powerful thump of his heart.

His gaze bore into hers. “You shouldn’t have gotten so nosy, Ms. Monahan.” 

A shiver slid down her back in the heartbeat before she remembered he was a police officer. Liz narrowed her eyes. “And you shouldn’t have used me as your cover.”

He blinked. “What the—How did you figure it out?” he demanded.

“When those men caught me, the first thing they said was ‘cop?’” 

“They know I’m a cop?” 

Liz shook her head. “Not
know
. It was a question.” 

“Dammit.” He glanced back at the door and Liz registered the hard thigh that pressed against the juncture of her legs.

“I think you can let me go,” she said.

He looked back at her. “I’m supposed to be terrorizing you.”” 

Liz released a shaky breath. “I’m pretty scared.” 

His mouth turned down. “Yeah.” 

He released her, then backed up, and she realized her pulse was pounding.

“What’s the plan?” she asked.

“Damned if I know.” He started toward the curtain that covered the balcony door beside the bed. He reached the curtain, eased aside the fabric, and peered out. “Come here.”

She forced her legs to cross the room to him.

“Is that Mercedes the car they drove here?” He motioned for her to peek through the gap in the curtain.

She leaned in front of him and looked through the paned glass doors, past the small balcony to a car parked behind a black limo. Liz straightened. “Yes. He left the keys in the ignition. I thought maybe I could steal the car.” 

“I’m sure Sanchez has a couple of well-placed guards somewhere on the grounds,” Adam said. “We’re lucky they didn’t put you in a second story room. We can make it to the car—” 

Muffled voices sounded outside the door.

Iron fingers gripped her arm and Adam threw her onto the bed. His knee slammed her side as he straddled her. She screamed. He seized the bodice of her dress and yanked. Leather raked her nipples. She cried out and threw her arms over her breasts as the door flung open. Liz glimpsed the leer on the Mexican’s face an instant before Adam twisted and looked over his shoulder. The American stepped into view behind the Mexican.

“Get the fuck out!” Adam shouted.

“You’re taking too long, amigo,” the Mexican said.

“Get in my way and I’ll kill you both.” 

The American stepped away from the doorway and the Mexican muttered something Liz couldn’t distinguish above the pounding of blood through her ears, then he left and closed the door behind him.

Adam faced her. His eyes didn’t stray to her arms. “You okay?” he asked.

She couldn’t move.

“He didn’t see a thing,” Adam said.

“What?” 

“I blocked his view.” 

Tears threatened. “Then why did you…” She couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence.

“You prefer that
he
rape you?”

Liz lay beneath him, trembling like a seven point earthquake. He’d never lifted a hand to a woman and he’d sure as hell never scared a woman like that. When Larissa had seen through his cover, he should have scrapped the night. But he’d wanted Sanchez. Now Liz might die because of him.

Like hell.

“Come on.” Ben pulled her to her feet and turned toward the window. “Fix your dress.” 

Rustling of clothes followed, then she whispered in a tremulous voice, “Done.”  

Ben turned around, grasped her shoulders and pulled her close so that he could whisper, “Scream—and make it real.”  

She startled him by beating at his chest. “Bastard,” she cried. “Let me go!”

“Shut up, bitch,” he hissed, and slapped his thigh.

She quieted, eyes wide.

He leaned close. She jerked back. His gut wrenched, but he whispered, “Whimper.”

Startlement flashed in her eyes. He nodded.

She whimpered, then moaned a long, ‘Nooo.’

He caught her hand and hurried her toward the patio door. Ben eased aside the curtain, scanned the grounds, then opened the door and pulled her the three steps to the wrought iron railing. He swung her into his arms, lifted her over the railing and set her on the ground.

“Get down,” he ordered.

She dropped to a squat as he hopped the fence and landed beside her. He scanned the property, his gaze locking on a small cottage to their right. Bars on the windows had snagged his attention when he’d arrived. He’d hoped to get a look inside. Ben hesitated. He wasn’t going to do a damn thing about it now. He couldn’t chance Liz’s life to satisfy his curiosity.

Ben grasped her hand and looked her in the eye. “Run like hell to the Mercedes. I’m driving. You get in the back and down on the floor. Stay there no matter what. Understand?” 

She nodded, and he pulled her up and into a run. They reached the car in four seconds. Ben released her hand, and she jumped in back and he in front. He turned the key. The car purred and Ben slammed into reverse.

“Hold on,” he ordered, and hit the accelerator.

The front door of the house burst open as the car careened backwards along the circular drive.

“Motherfucker,” the American shouted, and a shot sounded a bare second before the glass on the passenger side window shattered.

Liz screamed.

“Stay down!” Ben yelled.

He hit the brake and the car spun, facing the driveway. He rammed into drive and jammed the accelerator to the floor. Tires squealed and the car fishtailed, then jettisoned forward. Three shots in succession ripped through the rear window. Ben jerked left. The rear skidded right. He straightened out. Liz drew a sharp breath.

“Hold on,” Ben ordered.

He looked in the rearview mirror. The Mexican stood in the middle of the circle drive, a handgun aimed at them. Ben veered right and four shots missed them. Two more shots sounded. He left the palms and spun the wheel left, fishtailing onto the street. In the corner of his eye, he saw the limo racing down the driveway after them.

“You all right?” he demanded.

“Yes.” 

She sounded shaky but okay. The squeal of tires drew his attention to his driver’s side mirror. The limousine had reached the road and was headed after them.

“We’re not done yet,” he said.

“What?”  

“They’re on our tail.” 

“Oh dear,” she said as if he’d suggested,
We’re going to be late for the opera
.

Ben couldn’t help a laugh. “Lady, you have a knack for understatement.”  

“There’s a gun underneath the seat.” 

“What?” he demanded.

A gunshot ripped through the air. Ben yanked the wheel hard left onto another street. The back end of the car slid. Tires squealed in unison with a muttered ‘oof’ from the back.

“Good Lord,” she muttered.

“Give me the gun,” he ordered.

Movement flashed in the rearview mirror and Liz’s face came into view. “Dammit, Liz, I said stay down.” 

“You asked for the gun.” 

“Give me the gun and get down.” 

“How can you shoot when you’re driving?” she demanded.

He glanced in the mirror and met her gaze. Lights flashed in the mirror as the limo took the turn like a jackrabbit. The Mercedes should have been able to outrun the limo, but leave it to Sanchez to have installed special get-away modifications. A car whizzed past them going in the opposite direction. Ben scanned the street. Four streets up, he could make another left that would spill them onto Chihuahua-Juarez 45, headed north to the border. The limo was losing ground. Another few seconds and he and Liz would be out of danger. A car turned onto the road ahead and slid to a stop sideways, blocking the street.

“What the hell?” The sons-of-bitches had called in reinforcements…and there were no turns between them and the car. “Give me that gun, Liz, and buckle up.” In the rearview mirror he saw her eyes flick onto the car blocking the road.
“Now.”  

She thrust the gun over the seat. Even without looking at the weapon, the weight suggested a magnum. At least they’d saved the best for him.

“Keep your head down.” Ben gripped the gun with his right hand. “This is going to be a hard landing. You ready?” 

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” 

“Good girl.” 

* * *

Good girl?
Maybe that meant she would go to heaven—because today she was going to die. Liz glanced down. Her small evening bag slid from under the front seat. She'd forgotten about the purse—and the Modu phone. Liz looked up and saw two men standing outside the black Mercedes she and Adam sped toward. Her heart thudded. The men aimed guns—big guns—at them. The car jettisoned forward as if a rocket had ignited, throwing her against the seat. She grabbed the seat belt, clicked it into place and bent as low as the safety belt allowed.

This can’t be real.

A second later, the roar of three shots caused her to duck. Adam had fired, she realized. A volley of shots ripped through the air. Bullets penetrated the metal of their car in a succession of
thwangs
. She cried out. The car slid sideways.

Liz jammed her eyes closed and clutched the seatback. Her body jolted and her seatbelt locked an instant before the rear of the Mercedes spun and crashed into something. Her stomach lurched. Another crash sounded with another hard jolt. Tires squealed and she snapped open her eyes to see smoke rise from the front wheels as the car rocketed past the roadblock. 

“Are you all right?” Adam demanded.

Her head swam. “What?” 

“Liz.” 

The sharp note in Adam's voice snapped her attention onto his reflection in the rearview mirror. She nodded.

“Just a couple more minutes and we’ll lose the limo,” he said.

Limo? Liz glanced back. The two men who had been pointing guns at them, were now scrambling up from the side of the road. Her chest tightened. The limousine had become a heat-seeking missile with their car its target. How could the huge vehicle travel that fast? Adam made a sudden right turn. Liz slammed into the side door. The seat belt cut into her shoulder as she caught sight of an overhead sign that read Chihuahua-Juarez 45. A car horn blared and Adam swerved. Another car sped past. A siren split the air.

“Dammit,” he cursed.

“Police?” She glanced back.

“Yeah.” 

A black and white truck with a blue and red flashing police light followed two car lengths behind. “This is good. Those thugs won’t dare hurt us with the police around.” 

“Depends on whether we get a cop Sanchez doesn’
t
own. I'd say it's a fifty-fifty chance.” 

“He owns the police?” This was a bad dream.

“We’re five minutes from the border.” 

The siren blared closer. The police car drove so close, she couldn’t see its front bumper anymore. Liz faced forward. They passed another overhead sign that read United States Border. Two cars in the right lane had slowed in order to avoid them.

“They must think we intend to run the border,” she said. “They must have called ahead.” 

“Yeah, about now, US Border Patrol will have the border locked down. They’ll have a blockade up and waiting for us.

“Maybe you should call them.” 

“Sanchez took my phone for safe-keeping,” he said. “But don’t worry, once the US cops are in sight, I’ll slow down. They won’t shoot us as long as I stop.” 

Shoot?
Her stomach clenched. “You can use my phone.” 

His eyes riveted onto the rearview mirror. “You have a phone?” 

She pulled the phone from her purse and held it up.

“Do you have a signal?” 

She flipped it open. “Two bars.” 

“Dial for me.” He threw out numbers. She input them, then hit send and pressed the phone to her ear. A dial tone sounded.

“It’s ringing.” She handed him the phone.

A second later, he said, “Joe, it’s Ben.” 

Liz snapped to attention. Ben?

“I know,” he said. “Hold up. You got a speeding car headed your way with a Juarez cop on its tail. That’s me.” A pause. “I can’t explain, but I have a civilian in the car, Elizabeth Monahan, so I’d rather you didn’t start shooting when I reach the border.”  

Flashing lights to the right drew both their attentions. Another Juarez police car raced along an access road that merged with Highway 45. Adam muttered and Liz’s heart leaped into her throat.

“Make that two Juarez cops,” he said into the phone, then, “What is it?” A heartbeat of silence passed and he said, “Yeah, Adam Billings and Elizabeth Monahan.” 

A three second silence drew out and Liz thought she would go insane with the blare of multiple sirens.

Adam gave a cold laugh. “Warrants for our arrest? Sanchez is fast. Sorry, buddy, you’re going to have to clear the road. If we stop on this side of the border, it’s
hasta la vista, baby.” 

Her breath caught when his eyes flicked onto her from the rearview mirror.

“Looks like we’re going to have to run the booth.” 

She knew he was speaking as much to her as to the man on the phone.

His gaze shifted back to the road. “Get Medina on the line and let him know. See you in two minutes.” He flipped the phone closed.

The police car behind them veered left as the merging patrol car entered the highway. Liz realized their intention to sandwich their car between them a second before he said, “Hold on.”  

The two cars closed in on each side and Ben’s words echoed through her head,
hasta la vista, baby.

* * *

The clock on the dashboard read 12:14. A car in the second lane pulled onto the shoulder as they approached. Thank goodness, traffic on a Saturday night headed to the US from Juarez was usually slow. The cop on the left edged closer as the cop on the right veered toward them. The speedometer pointed at one hundred miles per hour. The top speed was one twenty, but Ben guessed he could push it to one fifty. That’s what the cops would expect him to do.

They hadn’t opened fired, and Ben figured Sanchez wanted them alive. The human traffics dealer had to be frothing at the mouth to have been taken in so easily, not to mention, scared by the question of exactly which law enforcement agency Adam Billings worked for.

The front fender of the car on the right inched alongside the passenger door. Another second and the fender was even with the Mercedes’ front tire. Just one more second… Ben glanced left. The driver smiled, then yanked the wheel right. Ben tapped the brakes. The two cars shot past, sideswiping one another. They bounced off each other like two giant metal toys, then veered in opposite directions.

Ben jammed his foot down on the accelerator. They rocketed past and the lights of the toll came into view. Ben had crossed this border more times than he could count, but never at a hundred miles per hour. The police car to their right had straightened and again gave chase. Ben gave a low laugh.

“Can’t US Border Patrol stop them?” Liz asked.

He hated the tremble in her voice. “I’m sorry, Liz. They can’t. We have to cross through the booths onto American soil.” He glanced in the mirror. They passed beneath a streetlamp and he saw her drawn expression. “We’ll be okay. There isn’t much they can do now.” 

He should have known better than to voice his hopes. Ben felt the weapon pointed at him almost before he caught the movement in the corner of his eye as the car pulled up alongside them.

“Get down!” He yanked the wheel right.

Two shots fired as Ben sideswiped the car. He whipped his gaze forward and yanked his foot off the accelerator as the booths loomed closer. Beyond the booths, blue and red US Border Patrol vehicle lights bounced off the white buildings.

Liz murmured, “Good God,” as they sped through the narrow booth at eighty miles an hour.   

* * *

The car slowed. So did time. Liz blinked as they passed a Border Patrol SUV. A second vehicle went by in an eerie blur of white, black, and colored lights that raced across her vision even after Adam passed them. He finally stopped after what seemed minutes instead of seconds. She sat, unable to move. No movement came from the front seat and she pictured Adam dead. She knew the thought was ridiculous, but unreasonable panic caused a tremor in her stomach that quickly escalated into a body shake.