Abducted:Reconnaissance Team (Texas Rangers: Special Ops) (9 page)

“You won't be much good without your badge.” 

“So that's how it is?” Ben leaned forward “I go back or our Federal buddies go to the director.” He rose. “That's just fine. I don't need a badge to take care of her.”

Or to get Sanchez.

Liz dropped her overnight bag on the chair in her hotel room. She needed room to breathe. Her close brush with death last night—and perhaps the close proximity with Ben Hunter five minutes ago—had jumbled her thoughts. Of course, the one unanswered question that nagged her wasn’t helping. Liz figured if she was going to get any answers before she left El Paso—and before Mr. Sanchez discovered where she was staying—it had to be now.

Liz glanced at her watch. Twelve-oh-three. Ben said he would pick her up at three for an early supper. She suspected he didn’t trust her out of his sight. Three hours was more than enough time to get some answers. She picked up her purse and left the room. If a Ranger stopped her on the way out of the hotel, she would tell him to keep a discreet distance while following her, but go she would.

She made it out of the lobby and into a cab without being stopped. Tension tied her stomach into a pretzel by the time she reached Larissa Remmey’s office at
G International
half an hour later. She was taking a chance showing up without an appointment, but going back to Larissa’s home wasn’t an option. For all Liz knew, mobsters had commandeered the Remmeys’ home. Liz’s intuition told her that Larissa Remmey didn’t like rubbing elbows with mobsters. Liz’s intuition also told her that Larissa had something to do with whatever Ben wasn’t telling her. She prayed she hadn’t miscalculated.

Liz now waited on a couch in the waiting room across from Larissa’s personal assistant. One of the big double doors to the right opened and Larissa stepped into the waiting room. Liz rose as she approached.

“Liz.” She extended her arms and pulled her into an embrace, then drew back. “This is a pleasant surprise. Come into my office.” She led Liz inside and they sat on a leather sofa in a corner of the massive office. “You disappeared last night.” A twinkle entered Larissa’s eyes. “You didn’t perhaps spend the evening with one of the young models?” 

“As a matter of fact I did.” 

Larissa laughed. “I’m not surprised. That dress was delicious. No man could possibly resist you. Who was the lucky man?” 

“Adam Billings.” 

Startlement flickered in her eyes, then melted into understanding. “What did he tell you?” 

So Larissa knew about Ben. Did she know his real name?

“He didn’t tell me anything,” Liz said. “He didn’t have to. The jig was up when two of your guests kidnapped me and took me to Mexico where
my date
was instructed to kill me.” 

Larissa straightened. “My God, Liz. What happened?” 

Liz related the story and Larissa grew pale.

“I’m going to be blunt,” Liz said.

Larissa gave a short laugh. “Have you been holding back, my dear?”

Liz laughed. “No. Let’s just agree, we won’t pull punches.” 

Larissa nodded. “Agreed.” She grasped Liz’s hand and squeezed. “I am truly sorry. I had no idea.”

Liz offered a soft smile. “I don’t believe you intended for me to be abducted.” 

Larissa released Liz’s hand. “What I intended was for Mr. Hunter to find my granddaughter.” 

When Larissa finished her story, Liz fought back tears. She’d really mucked things up. It was a sure bet that Carlos Sanchez was now on the hunt for Ben, which meant Ben’s chances of returning undercover were nil. Not only had she ended his investigation, she’d put Larissa’s granddaughter in peril—not to mention, endangered the Remmeys. Mr. Sanchez couldn’t be certain they knew Ben was a police officer, but a man like Mr. Sanchez would kill them out of spite. What was the saying?
Revenge is a dish best served cold
. Yeah, but why had Carlos Sanchez kidnapped the Remmeys’ granddaughter?

Liz held Larissa’s gaze. “What exactly can your husband do for Carlos Sanchez?” 

Larissa didn’t flinch from her gaze. “Help him transport slaves across the border.”  

* * *

As Ben drove toward Liz’s hotel, he knew dinner wasn’t going to go as planned. Aside from the curve ball Sheila had thrown him about Liz’s past, Liz was already proving to be the handful he’d suspected her to be. After leaving headquarters, he’d made a few phone calls that he hoped would fill him in on her past—then told himself to turn off the cop instincts and wait for answers.

Concealing his thoughts wasn’t the problem. Liz figuring out that he had
something
on his mind was the real danger. After all, she had figured out that something was going on with the Remmeys—and kept quiet, which fooled him into thinking she wasn’t going to interfere. Then Larissa called and described Liz’s visited. Now Ben didn’t have the slightest idea what she intended to do with her newfound knowledge.  

He parked in front of the hotel and got out. The valet took the keys and Ben headed into the lobby. She almost hadn't agreed to dinner. He wondered if her agreement included plans to ferret out the Remmeys’ involvement with Carlos Sanchez. And maybe even find out what she’d stumbled into and what kinks she’d put into his investigation. The woman did keep busy.

Damn, he hoped she didn't give him trouble when he reached her room. Despite the very real possibility she was connected with Sammy ‘the ice pick’ Grekhova, Ben wanted badly to see her. Just as importantly, however, he needed to keep her in his sights until Medina got back to him. Ben was certain Chief Dendy wouldn't allow Liz to return to Mexico, and Medina was in agreement, but if the Feds managed to convince her, Dendy might not be able to stop her. Ben wasn't sure he could either. They needed to find Sanchez before the Feds had a chance to come to any real decision, then apply pressure. Sanchez scorned the American justice system, and the way Ben figured it, he wanted Ben—and Liz—badly enough to stay close by in Juarez.

Despite the fact that Ranger Lance David had been assigned to keep an eye on Liz, Ben hated letting her out of his sight. The tall man sitting in one of the lobby chairs lifted his eyes from the newspaper he was reading and telepathed an
all okay
. Ben allowed himself to relax a notch. If Braxton and Masters had paid Liz a visit, Lance would have let him know. The ranger stretched long, jean-clad legs out in front of him and Ben knew the big man would be gone by the time he and Liz made it down to the lobby.

Ben took the elevator up to the fifth floor and, a minute later, knocked on Liz’s door. No one answered. He knocked again. Silence followed and his heart rate notched up. Lance was good at his job. If Sanchez’s men had walked through the front door, Lance would have spotted them in a heartbeat. A second Ranger monitored the delivery entrance. No one had believed Sanchez would make a move this quickly, but Medina had agreed with Ben; they couldn’t chance that Sanchez would get lucky and find her.

Ben knocked—pounded—this time. The door opened so abruptly that he took an unsteady step forward before catching himself. Liz stood before him. She lifted a brow and he knew she’d figured out exactly what he was thinking.

She confirmed the thought by saying, “I guess you’d better catch him.” 

Yeah, he guessed she was right.

Ben had told her the evening would be casual so, like him, she wore jeans. Her short-sleeve, peasant-style shirt   slipped off one shoulder, and the flash of skin made her look just as good as she had last night in the tiny designer dress. Good enough to eat. How was it possible this woman could be connected with a mob boss?

He smiled. “I’m glad you decided to keep the date.” 

“I figured you’d track me down if I didn’t.” 

He would have. Then he would have turned her over his knee for good measure. That idea had serious merit.

“Come on in.” She released the door and turned back toward the room.

Ben hurried across the threshold, letting the door swing shut behind him. Liz crossed to the chest of drawers and picked up a keycard lying there. Ben brushed past her as she picked up a small purse. He stopped at the curtained window that spanned the far wall and pulled the curtain back enough to peer outside.

“See that pond?” she said. “Very quaint. Reminds me of a little fishing hole I use to go to as a kid.”

He glanced at her. “You fish?”

She slipped the keycard into her purse then looked at him. “I was a master fisherwoman by the time I was ten.”

He released the curtain and faced her. “By age ten?”

She shrugged. “Best bamboo pole and bobber fisherwoman you ever saw.”

Ben laughed. “I would like to have seen that.”

Her mouth scrunched in a grimace. “I was a funny looking kid, and even funnier with that pole propped over my shoulder.”

He could see it, a cuter version of Huck Finn. “What did you catch?”

“Primarily croaker and perch. Catfish, if I was lucky.” She slipped the purse strap over her shoulder. “Ready?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

They started toward the door.

“Did you do any other fishing besides the local pond?” he asked.

“Surf fishing. I never developed a taste for deep-sea fishing. The fish are too big. I did fish for steelhead, though.”

“Steelhead? You didn’t fish for steelhead in Texas.”

They reached the door and Ben opened it, then stood aside as she preceded him.

“The pacific northwest,” she replied. “It was fun, but too much work.”

Ben laughed. “You obviously fish for the peace and quiet.”

“Fresh fish can’t be beat. I never fished unless I intended to eat what I caught.”

“I was a trout and bass man myself,” he said as they started down the hallway.

“None of the little guys for you?” she said He laughed, but she added before he could respond, “Trout fishing is more work than steelhead.”

“I’m not afraid of hard work.”

Her head snapped up and her gaze met his. He grinned and she rolled her eyes, then looked down the hall.

“Where are we going?”

“I know this great steakhouse on the south side,” he said. “You’ll love it.” 

She remained silent until they reached his truck. When he flipped on his turn signal and waited to merge into oncoming traffic, she said, “I agreed to your invitation because I want to talk to you.” Ben flashed an innocent look, but caught the almost imperceptible narrowing of her eyes in the instant before she said, “You know I spoke to Larissa.” 

It wasn’t a question. He joined the traffic flow. “You’re going to be damned hard to hide anything from, Liz.” 

“I’ve been told that.” 

He just bet she had.

“You didn’t find out anything about Larissa’s granddaughter, did you?” she asked.

He stopped for a light and looked at her. “I didn’t find out much of anything.” 

Sadness darkened her expression.

“It’s not your fault, Liz.” 

“Maybe not,” she replied. “But it’s still heart wrenching.” 

Ben couldn’t argue that point. “We’re not done with Sanchez.” 

“After last night, He'll be cautious about dealing with people he doesn’t know.” 

“Yes.” Likely, he’d be more than cautious. He would go into deep hiding—after he got revenge. If that happened, it would be a long time before the Rangers got another shot at catching him.

“What are you going to do now?” she asked.

The light turned green and Ben accelerated. “We’re going to get Larissa’s granddaughter back and shutdown Sanchez’s operation.” Even if Ben had to chase him to the southernmost point of South America.

She looked at him. “You make it sound easy.” 

“All in a day’s work.” The last thing he wanted was to discuss business. Tonight was supposed to be about pleasure. But if he didn’t share what the FBI planned for them, tomorrow she would find out he hadn't told her. “You never did tell me exactly what you heard on the balcony, Liz.” 

She looked at him. “Is this why you asked me out?” 

The indignant lift of her brow made him regret the question. He’d fallen into his own trap. “No. Strictly speaking, you don’t have to say another word to me about what happened.” 

“We might as well get it out of the way,” she replied. “The American said they had an arrangement and the Mexican said that arrangements change. The American said that Carlos wanted the girls moved and the Mexican said it was too hot and Mr. Sanchez's men were the ones who had caused the problem. That's when the American told him that if he fucked Mr. Sanchez over they would be as dead as those girls.” Liz shrugged. “That’s it. I was so startled that I made a noise and they found me.” She flashed an embarrassed smile. “I wouldn't make a good undercover agent.” 

“I'm impressed you didn't go into hysterics,” Ben said.

She snorted. “I came pretty close.”

Ben had experienced a bit of hysteria himself. He'd never been more scared than when Sanchez opened the door and he saw her standing in that bedroom. “You did good,” he said, remembering her calm while surrounded by some of the nastiest criminals in Mexico. Was her courage born of experience? “Real good,” he added, despite the sudden doubt.

“I think that's a compliment,” she said.

He braked behind a car at another traffic light. “It is.” 

“You're being too serious, Mr. Hunter.”