Exposed (24 page)

Her heart careened in her chest, disbelief and betrayal slicing deep.

Miguel?

It made no sense. Why would he hurt her?

Then she was weightless, rising into the air, and powerless to stop it. Everything spun around her, a strange roaring filling her ears.

Shouts echoed in the distance behind her but she couldn’t even cry out as Miguel carried her deeper into the foliage. Fighting to keep her eyes open, she managed to get one more look at his face just before the darkness took her.

Chapter Seventeen

Ethan checked his harness one last time then slid from the rooftop over the side of the exterior wall. For this exercise they were using an abandoned industrial building in South Miami. Bracing the soles of his boots on the thick concrete, he leaned his weight back and held still with his brake hand on the rope beneath him. To his left, Schroder mirrored his movements.

“Three and four in position,” he said quietly into his comm, the weight of his rifle resting against his chest.

“Stand by.” Tuck’s voice was just as soft. Their team leader was on the ground floor in another part of the building with members of the DEA FAST team, seven stories down. Bauer, Evers and Vance were on the eighth floor already, twenty yards down the hall east from the target apartment.

In this training scenario the tangos had the far west side of the building locked down, so while Bauer and the others closed in from one side, Ethan and Schroder were going to infiltrate via an open window of an abandoned unit on the opposite side of the target apartment. Blackwell had already rappelled down to secure it while Ethan and Schroder had provided security from above.

Weight distributed in the harness, Ethan stayed still, his breathing even as he awaited the command.

“Bravo team, go.”

At Tuck’s order, Ethan and Schroder both shoved away from the wall. They rappelled fast, hopping their way down the side of the building. They slipped inside the open window, where Blackwell was waiting for them. Together the three of them made their way out into the hallway, avoiding detection by the tangos at the far west end, as well as the ones barricaded in the apartment between them and Bauer’s squad.

After checking to make sure the hallway was empty, they eased toward the tangos’ apartment in the dimness. The lights were out, all the electricity turned off by the drug dealers currently holding captives in the apartment.

Ethan pulled down his NVGs and switched them on. He and the others headed for the target, their boots silent on the thin, worn carpet. They stopped twenty yards away from the apartment, on the opposite side of the door from Bauer’s team.

“Bravo team in position,” Ethan murmured.

“Alpha team ready. No movement on this floor,” Bauer confirmed from inside.

“Roger,” Tuck answered. “Hang tight.”

Everyone held their positions while they waited for the signal.

“Green light,” Tuck said a minute later.

Ethan signaled to the guys behind him to follow and started for the door. Bauer closed the gap between them on the other side. He and Ethan paused there while the former SEAL set the breaching charge on the lock.

Ethan leaned back when he gave the signal. When the charge blew, Bauer sent the door flying inward with a single, powerful kick and Ethan tossed in two flashbangs. It took only moments for them to infiltrate and lock down the place. They “arrested” the three hostage takers and freed the four FAST team members posing as hostages for this practice run.

On the way out they took the stairs down to the bottom of the building. Once they exited and handed over their charges, Ethan and the others took off their helmets and walked toward where Tuck and the other DEA members were waiting. His team leader met them partway, his expression way too serious considering the training op was over.

“DeLuca sent a message,” Tuck told him. “Wants you and Vance to call him ASAP.”

Ethan blinked. Tuck’s expression held no traces of alarm, but the guy had been former Delta so he was impossible to read if he didn’t want to be. “What about?”

“Didn’t say. You two take five. Make the call in the command center and meet up with us when you’re done.”

Ethan shared a questioning glance with Vance, and headed for the street. The converted motorhome that served as a mobile command unit sat at the curb. Three DEA agents were inside it, but left to give him and Vance some privacy while Ethan made the call. DeLuca answered on the second ring.

“Hey, it’s Cruz. I’ve got Vance with me. What’s up?”

His commander sighed in a way that signaled bad news, and Ethan’s stomach tightened. He knew that sound, could easily picture DeLuca dragging a hand through his hair. “There’s no easy way for me to say this, so I’m just gonna say it.”

The warning wasn’t even close to anything he’d been expecting on this call. Ethan gripped the cell tighter. “What’s wrong?” Vance was watching him closely. It worried the hell out of Ethan that DeLuca had requested his closest buddy on the team be present while he received whatever news their commander had for him.

“I got word twenty minutes ago about an incident that went down in Key West this morning.”

Ethan’s spine jerked taut, all his muscles locking. There was only one reason why DeLuca would be calling about that. “Marisol,” he rasped out. “Is she okay?” Vance’s eyes were locked on him but all Ethan was aware of was the pounding of his heart as he awaited DeLuca’s answer.

“She’s missing.”

His stomach twisted hard. “Missing?” he echoed.

“A shooter attacked her security team at their interview this morning. The guy they interviewed is dead, along with two U.S. Marshals. Another is wounded, and so is Agent Lammers. They’re both in surgery right now. Her boss got away, said he saw some guy come out of the trees and grab Marisol.”

“She’s been kidnapped.” His voice sounded dull even to his own ears, the reality hard to grasp.

“Yes.”

Ethan let out a shaky breath and closed his eyes. He felt like he might puke. “But she’s alive?”

“We don’t know. But since everyone else is dead or wounded and was left on scene, there’s no reason to take her unless the kidnapper wanted her alive.”

All Ethan heard was the
we don’t know
part. He dragged a hand through his hair, gripped the back of his neck and swallowed. Was she even alive? The thought of someone killing her made him fucking ill. Helpless.

He couldn’t handle her being taken from him this way, couldn’t imagine the world without her in it. She was such a bright light. To have that extinguished, snuffed out in such a heinous way, was unthinkable.

DeLuca must have known he was losing it internally because his voice took on a snap of command. “Listen to me. Our agents are doing everything they can to find her. I’ll meet you guys at the Miami field office in fifteen minutes. Have Vance drive you there. We’ll get an update and go from there.”

Shaken to the core, Ethan mumbled some sort of a response and ended the call. Vance clapped a big hand on his shoulder, turned him to face the door. “Let’s go.”

“Marisol,” he began. “She’s—”

“I overheard everything,” Vance replied, his voice flat. “Come on.”

Ethan barely remembered getting into their rental. Vance got them to the Miami office as fast as he could and together they met DeLuca outside the doors.

Their commander studied Ethan’s face for a moment, his expression determined. “I’ll help in whatever way I can.”

Throat too tight to speak, Ethan nodded his thanks and headed inside. DeLuca took them straight to the agent in charge of the investigation. The man ran through everything they knew about the attack and Marisol’s disappearance to this point.

All evidence from Key West pointed to one shooter, still on the loose, and nobody had identified the man who’d taken Marisol. They knew there were two men on scene because the shots had come from one direction and the man had come from another when he took Marisol. It was presumed they were working together though.

Next Ethan relayed everything he knew about Marisol’s situation. Where she’d been heading this morning, the recent threats, everything and anything he could think of that might be useful.

Which amounted to a handful of shit. She’d already been attacked and kidnapped. He was praying they wanted to use her for ransom and not torture.

When he was done detailing everything he fell silent, his heart pounding hard against his sternum. “Have you informed her family yet?” he asked the lead agent.

“No, but we’ll have to shortly.”

“You want me to do it?” He’d rather be gutshot than deliver that news to Marisol’s mother and sisters, but maybe it would soften the blow if they heard it from him and knew he was with the investigative team right now.

“That might be best.”

Ethan nodded, forced out a slow breath to quell the rolling of his stomach. “I need some privacy.” He wanted to throw something, put his fist through the wall, but he couldn’t. There was no outlet for the violent mix of emotion roiling inside him.

Someone showed him to a private office down the hall. He closed the door and sank into a chair in front of the desk, a knot the size of a boulder lodged in his throat as he immediately flashed back to the leather chair behind her desk at her office, and what he’d done to her there. Now she was gone.

No, he ordered himself. She had to be alive. Had to be okay. He thought of how incredible it had been to make love to her last night, the way she’d given herself to him. Then this morning when she’d smiled up at him and kissed him goodbye before climbing into the vehicle with her security detail.

“Call me when you get back,” he’d told her before putting her into the back passenger seat of the SUV. “Hopefully I’ll be off work then and I can bring you some dinner.”

“A dinner date?” she’d asked with a grin.

“Yeah.” He’d tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, leaned in to kiss her.

She’d kissed him back, slow and hot and sweet, then flashed him a secret smile that got his blood pumping about getting her alone again later. “See you tonight.”

His throat tightened as the memory faded. His kitt’n. Was she scared right now? In pain and praying that he was coming for her? It gutted him.

He pulled out his phone and dialed her mother. It was one of the toughest calls he’d ever made. Mrs. Lorenzo screamed, the heart-wrenching sound making the hair on his nape stand on end.

He did what he could to calm her, let her know he was staying on top of the investigation and that a team of FBI agents would be coming to talk with her. All the while he prayed they’d get a solid lead that would allow him and his teammates to go after her.

When he ended the call he felt…numb. Inside and out.

Vance knocked once and poked his head into the room, his face tense. “You need to see this.”

Ethan jumped up and rushed back to the office where the lead investigator was.

“This just came in,” the agent said, easing aside so Ethan could see the computer screen on his desk. “CCTV footage from a camera near the harbor in South Miami.” He played the footage, showing a big guy carrying a giant duffel on his back. The kind sport fishermen might transport a large catch in. But that was no marlin in there.

Marisol.

His entire body went rigid. Was she still alive? Ethan gripped the edge of the desk, forced himself to breathe.
No
. They were going to get her back, alive and in one piece. He had to stay positive, focus on finding her.

“Here’s the best shot we could get of his face. It’s not the greatest, but we were able to enhance it some.” He tapped a few keys and pulled up an image.

Ethan sucked in a breath and pushed up from the desk as recognition slammed into him. “Miguel Salvador,” he blurted, hardly able to believe it.

The agent jerked his head around to stare at Ethan. “You know him?”

Jaw tight, he nodded. “He’s from our old neighborhood. Soli and I knew him when we were kids. She said she saw him the other night, out in front of her mom’s place.” What the fuck? Had he been following her even then? What the
fuck
had that asshole done to her? Ethan’s hands curled into fists, a helpless rage flooding him.

The agent waved at someone from his team, snapped his fingers to get their attention. Everyone crammed into the room stared at him as he spoke to Ethan. “Miguel Salvador,” he repeated, and two people instantly rushed from the room, presumably to search the name.

“What do you know about him?”

“He’s in his late twenties. Served in the military for a while. I heard SF.” His stomach dropped. The guy was deadly. Not good news for Marisol.

“What else?”

Ethan blew out a breath, his mind spinning. “His mom died of an overdose when he was a kid, and he was taken in by his maternal grandmother. She suffered permanent brain damage during an attack in a home invasion years ago and was institutionalized, but he always visited her. She’s probably still at a facility here in Miami.” Miguel had been a quiet, shy kid, and while he’d never been friendly with Ethan, he’d always been kind to Soli. What the hell had led him to do this?

“What’s her name?”

“Flora Bautista—” He stopped, the words cut off by an invisible knife as it hit him. The bits and pieces of intel he knew rolled around in his brain, all the edges coming together like pieces of a puzzle.

The answer he came up with didn’t seem possible, and yet his gut screamed that it was true.

“No,” he breathed, leaning forward to stare at the screen. “No fucking
way
.” His blood iced up, fear for Soli screaming through his system.

“What?” DeLuca demanded, pushing closer to peer at the screen. “What is it?”

Ethan pushed up again, feeling dizzy. “Bautista. It’s a surname relating to John the Baptist.” He turned toward DeLuca, saw that his commander was frowning. Oh, Jesus, what if he was right? “He was a saint,” he continued, his pulse thudding hard and fast.

“
El Santo
,” DeLuca muttered, looking as stunned as Ethan felt.