Hunted (FBI Heat Book 1) (18 page)

Ben listened to Amber’s phone ring again, his third try to contact her. No answer. Reluctantly, he said, “Call me, babe,” and disconnected.

He looked up when several ICE vans pulled into the dormitory parking lot a few yards away. Two men got out of one and strolled to the rear to open the door. They helped Pedro climb out because his hands were bound behind him.

“Dammit,” Ben muttered. He stomped to the van. “Release him.”

“On whose authority?” one of the officers asked.

“Mine. FBI Special Agent Ben Alfren. Release him into my custody.”

They glared at him.

“Look, Pedro turned himself in to save his girlfriend.” Ben gestured toward the dormitory. “Without his help, we never would’ve known this shit was going on.” He glanced down pointedly at the young man’s hands. “Maria almost got killed today. Don’t you think he should be able to touch her?”

The officers’ expressions softened.

“He tipped you guys to all this?” one asked, nodding at the building.

“Sure as hell did.” Maybe that was a stretch, but Pedro had certainly been a critical cog.

“Well, shit. That should count for something. You’re responsible for him though.” The man undid the restraints. “We need him back in this van before we leave.”

“No problem. C’mon, Pedro.” He took the kid by the arm and led him toward the ambulance.

“
Muchas gracias
, Ben. Is… is my Maria okay?”

“Absolutely. She’s a very brave woman. You’re a lucky man.”

“
Sí
, very lucky. She is my—how you say?—soul mate.” Then Pedro spotted her and broke into a run. “Maria, Maria!”

“Pedro!
Mi amor
.” Pushing the paramedic aside, she jumped down into Pedro’s arms. They smothered each other with kisses.

From a discreet distance, Ben watched the unabashed display of affection. A twinge of envy pinched him. He’d experienced that sort of overwhelming love before. Although the relationship with Marissa had failed painfully, he would never regret what they’d shared. An epiphany stunned him. For the first time in two years, he wanted, seriously wanted, an all-in relationship again. With a new woman. Another intelligent, brave woman.

He whipped out his cell.
Answer, Amber, answer.
But she didn’t. “Call me, babe.” He stuffed the phone back in his pocket. Dread rippled through him, raising goose bumps.

He didn’t notice Rex approaching until he pounded him on the back.

“Again, congratulations on a great job, Ben. I just finished monitoring Staci’s raid. Went down without a hitch. We have so many people in custody, I don’t know what we’re going to do with them all.” He laughed. “Best news is Johnson’s wound isn’t major, so no significant injuries to the good guys. The bad guys didn’t fare as well, but I don’t give a damn.”

His boss’s words barely registered. His gut screamed that something was wrong with Amber, and he feared he knew what it was.

“I gotta go, Boss.”

“Hey, just because I said you did a great job doesn’t let you off the hook on cleaning up this mess.” He chuckled and motioned toward the vehicles and people scattered across the site.

“It’s Amber.”

Rex frowned. “What?”

“Amber’s in trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?”

Damn, he didn’t have time for explanations. If Amber couldn’t answer the phone, things were already bad. Real bad. “Stalker trouble. Violent former boyfriend. He’s put her in the hospital before.” Even if Rex objected, Ben was leaving. Screw the op. Screw his career. “I need your keys, Boss.”

He didn’t hesitate a second before digging them from his pocket and tossing them to Ben. “Need help?”

He started running toward Rex’s Bureau sedan. “Yeah. You’re in charge of cleanup and Pedro,” he called without looking back.

* * *

While her former boyfriend threw clothes and shoes into a large suitcase, Amber’s mind raced. Four times, she’d heard her cell ringing in her purse in the living room. Jeremy either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

Please let it be Ben calling with news on the raids
, she prayed. He was the only person she could imagine figuring out something was terribly wrong if she didn’t answer. No one else in the world had any idea what was going on in her life. How sad—and possibly tragic—was that?

Not one resident in the complex would realize there was a problem unless they discovered Lisa was missing. But since the rental agent often left the office to show apartments or run errands, hours could pass before anyone noticed. Because Amber hadn’t been at work since Monday, nobody would be missing her there either. No friends and relatives from Kansas or acquaintances in San Diego would be looking for her.

Aloneness swamped her. Jeremy had isolated her from the rest of the world and hunted her down. Resignation weighed heavy and stifled her will to fight.
What’s the use? He’s won.
Admitting defeat wasn’t in her nature, but her plight felt hopeless.

Numbness shielded her from panic. She watched his frantic activity with a certain detachment. Even with all his psychological problems, he had managed to outsmart her. She’d been so careful to learn from every previous mistake. But she’d obviously screwed up again.

“Jeremy, how did you find me… this time?” she asked listlessly.

He barked an ugly laugh and plopped down on the bed next to her. “Thought you’d figured out how to hide your address, huh, girlie? Usin’ a PO Box and never listin’ your apartment number anywhere was pretty good, but not good enough to fool ole Jeremy.”

She sighed. “I was pretty sure you’d found the complex.”

“Yeah. But I could never spot you comin’ or goin’. You and those goddamn disguises.”

“So what gave me away?”

“Not what, who.” He smirked.

“Lisa. Jesus, I should’ve known.”

“Nope, not Lisa. Laura.”

She frowned. “Laura? Laura who?”

“Laura, your boss.”

Reality refused to register. “Laura Eldridge?”

“How many bosses do you have named Laura?” he snapped.

She shook her head in disbelief. Her boss knew about the history with Jeremy. Laura would never give him information about her. “Dammit. How did you trick her?”

He snorted. “Didn’t have to. She offered you up on a silver platter.”

“What?”
Not Laura? Office Mom. My friend.
She gagged as bile rose in her throat again. “No way. You’re lying.” He had to be lying. He simply had to be. Laura wouldn’t betray her.

“Why would I lie? So, don’t believe me. I don’t give a damn.”

Why would he lie? What did he have to gain from it? Her stomach roiled with disgust. “But how?”

He shrugged. “I’d called yesterday actin’ like I was a bank doin’ employment verification for a loan. The chick who answered said I’d have to talk to Laura and took my contact info. She didn’t call me back until this mornin’. Smart lady.”

“How’s that?”

“She’d already figured out I was no damn bank. She came right out and asked if I was Jeremy Nelson. At first, I denied it ’cuz I figured she’d call the cops or somethin’. But then, she said she could help me. Go figure.”

No, wait. It doesn’t make sense.
“Laura doesn’t know my apartment number. I never put it on any of my personnel forms.”

“Now you’re catchin’ on. She didn’t know the number, but she damn well knew which apartment was yours. Said she’d been here once.”

The bottom dropped out of her stomach. That was true. Laura had brought soup when Amber had the flu.

“She described the location perfectly. I made a beeline over here, grabbed Lisa from the office with a little convincin’ from my sidekick…” He patted the gun in his waistband. “And here you are, thanks to Laura.”

“But why? Why, dammit?”

“Hell if I know. Don’t matter to me.”

She closed her eyes. Why would Laura screw her over? They were friends. Her boss had genuinely regretted having to fire her.

Or had she?

She studied Laura’s image in her mind. Fifty. Petite. Slightly gray.

Her heart lodged in her throat.
Oh my God.

* * *

Ben careened out of the dormitory parking lot in Rex’s unmarked black sedan. Every instinct screamed Amber was in danger. How could he have been so stupid to leave her alone? He should’ve made her stay at his office while the raids went down.
What the hell was I thinking?

Could the timing be any worse? He’d finally reached the point where he wanted a serious relationship with a woman again, and now, some asshole was going to ruin it.

For him. For Amber.

But wait. Did she want a long-term relationship? She claimed she didn’t because of Jeremy, because she’d have to go on the run again. Or if they stopped him, Ben believed she’d move back to Kansas. But…

The proverbial lightbulb flashed on. Suddenly, her odd change of moods when they were taking the nursery pictures and talking about staying in his home made sense. Amber wanted what she didn’t think she could ever have: a long-term relationship. With him.

“Shit!” he shouted and slammed his hand against the steering wheel.

He cut through Imperial Beach like a madman on a mission. Because he was crazy with fear. For Amber. If Jeremy hurt her… He couldn’t let himself finish the thought.

He wound through traffic like a basket weaver. Passed cars as though they were standing still. Ran a red light. Earned several honks and middle-finger salutes.

Finally, he swerved onto Highway 75 north. A straight shot up the Silver Strand with the Pacific stretching to the horizon on his left. Damn the tourists crawling along the highway, watching the waves crash on the beach. Darting around any vehicle that dared to block his path, he raced toward Coronado.

Only a few more miles…

Amber’s arms ached from being trussed behind her with duct tape. Her hands were going numb. Even if she managed to free herself, her diminished physical condition would severely hinder her movements.

“Where’s your passport?” Jeremy asked, tossing folders out of the file box where she kept important papers.

“I don’t have one.”

Yanking the gun from his waistband, he marched across the bedroom. “Don’t fuck with me, bitch.” He shoved the muzzle under her chin. “I don’t got all day. We gotta hoof it to ole Mexico real fast.”

He wouldn’t shoot her. At least, she didn’t believe he would. He wanted to punish her too much to end it that fast. Unless he was off his meds. In that case, Jeremy didn’t think like a rational person; he was completely unpredictable.

“Remember, I changed my name. I didn’t get a new one.”

He narrowed his eyes. “But the old one’s still good. The picture is you.”

“But the Mexican officials will compare it to my driver’s license, and the names don’t match. They won’t let us across the border. They might even call the US Border Patrol.” She didn’t know if they compared the two IDs or not, but it sounded reasonable. She’d tell any lie necessary to prevent him from taking her into Mexico. Once there, no one would find her.

Jeremy thought a moment. Always dangerous. “We’ll hide your driver’s license somewhere in the car. Tell them you don’t have one.”

“Like they’ll believe that.”

He slapped her so hard her head spun. She tasted blood on her lips, and the drumbeat started in her brain again.

“Don’t sass me. You know what happens when you do.”

With her thoughts scrambled by pain, she couldn’t respond.

“Well, I’ll just go ask Lisa where it is.” He sauntered to the bedroom door.

“She doesn’t know.”

“But you do. You decide how much you want her to suffer before you tell me.”

“Don’t, Jeremy, please.”

He shrugged as if to say it was her fault. True to form, he always blamed others for his atrocious behavior.

He stomped out the door. A few minutes later, muffled screams came from the living room.

“Stop, Jeremy, stop! I’ll tell you. Leave Lisa alone,” Amber shouted.

A final whimper reached her ears and then a loud thud.
Oh God, no.

He stormed back into the bedroom. “See what you made me do.”

Before he jammed the gun against her temple, she caught a glimpse of blood on the muzzle.

“Where… the… hell… is… your passport? I’m only askin’ once,” he ground out.

No sense in dragging out the inevitable, especially if it might mean a delay in getting Lisa help. “Lockbox under the couch. Key’s on the keychain in my purse.”

Growling with frustration, he trudged from the bedroom again, returning a few minutes later with her passport held high like a trophy. He grinned and fanned the five hundred dollars of cash she also kept in the box for emergency getaways.

“That’s my girl. Always prepared.” He surveyed the room. “We’re done here. Time to go.” After stuffing her passport and cash in his pocket, he closed and zipped the suitcase. Then he yanked a sweater out of a drawer. “Get up.”

He stepped out of reach of her legs as she rolled to the side and leveraged herself off the bed. He draped the sweater across her shoulders, fastened the top button, and pulled down the back to cover her bound hands. “Aren’t you the pretty one, sweetheart?”

“Jeremy, stop and think. You’ll never get away with this. Don’t screw up your life.”

“Shut up, bitch. You already screwed it up good. Now, let’s do this,” he drawled.

He marched her down the hallway and through the living room. When he stopped to sling Amber’s purse over her shoulder, she spotted Lisa sprawled on the floor between the couch and coffee table, blood oozing from a gash at her temple. Her throat tightened.

“Lisa needs medical attention, Jeremy. Let me call 911 after we leave.”

“Not a chance. Someone will find her eventually.” He shoved Amber out the door and closed it behind them. Hiding the gun under the sweater, he positioned it against her back. “One wrong move and you’re history.”

Unfortunately, the courtyard was still deserted. She wasn’t sure what she would’ve done if someone had been around, but the opportunity didn’t arise.

She glanced up at the door to Ben’s apartment, and her eyes stung with tears. If she’d left town when her early-warning signals had first gone off, she would’ve been able to say good-bye. Now he’d hear about her abduction from Lisa, who would hit on him with her next breath. Ben would move on with his life. In time, their two-week fling would fade from his memory. But she would
never
forget him.

Walking at a steady pace, they reached Jeremy’s Jeep Cherokee parked on the street in only a few minutes. She peered over her shoulder for one last look. Her final moments of freedom had been spent here. They hadn’t been especially happy hours, worrying about Ben and the operation. Would news of the FBI raids reach into Mexico? Would she ever know if they freed Maria and captured Raul Garcia? Would she learn of the demise of Dream Makers? Would she have the comfort of knowing FBI Special Agent Ben Alfren hadn’t been injured or killed?

Hopelessness swelled inside. Those events were no longer part of her life.

It was over.

Jeremy hoisted her up, buckled her into the passenger seat, and slammed the door. After throwing her suitcase in the back, he climbed in and cranked the engine.

“
Hasta la vista
,” he said.

The Jeep had just pulled away from the curb when Jeremy had to swerve to avoid an oncoming black sedan racing toward the apartment complex.

“Learn to drive, asshole!” he shouted and pounded the horn.

* * *

“Shit!” Ben hissed as he sped past the white Jeep Cherokee heading in the opposite direction.

The person in the passenger seat was Amber. He’d only seen her for a split second, but he knew without a doubt. Unfortunately, he also knew the driver was Jeremy Nelson.

Slamming on the brakes, he glanced in the rearview mirror as the traffic light turned green, and the vehicle turned left onto Orange Avenue.

“Damn.”

Where would Jeremy take her?
Think, Alfren, think.

There were only two roads leading off the Coronado peninsula: the route he’d just driven along the Silver Strand from Imperial Beach, and the bridge across the bay to San Diego and Interstate 5. The freeway was the straightest and fastest route to the Mexican border, only fifteen or twenty minutes, depending on traffic. If Jeremy reached Mexico, the chances of finding Amber shrank to almost nothing. That was exactly where he would be going.

Cut him off before he gets there.

Ben hit the accelerator. The tires squealed. Instead of doing a U-turn and following the Jeep, which was now completely out of sight, he fishtailed a turn onto Glorietta Boulevard and gunned it. He knew there was no left turn allowed from Glorietta onto Fourth Street, leading to the bridge.
Screw that.
He would drive the car over concrete barriers, a golf course, or someone’s lawn if he had to. His only chance to catch Jeremy was to access the bridge from that location.

He reached the intersection and spotted the Jeep approaching in the eastbound lanes from Orange Avenue. Jeremy traveled with the flow of traffic to avoid attracting attention.

Ben waited until the vehicle passed. Then he laid on the horn. Startled drivers slowed just enough for him to shoot across three lanes of westbound traffic with only near misses instead of collisions. In a bone-jarring move, the sedan bounced up and over the concrete median.

Spinning the car into the eastbound fast lane, he earned honks and dirty gestures from the drivers he nearly sideswiped. Wishing he had the power of his BMW, he floored the accelerator to climb the steep incline of the bridge.

The Jeep appeared just ahead in the far right lane next to the side railing. Ben pulled alongside and slid across the line until the vehicles were just inches apart. Jeremy jerked the wheels to the right and frantically motioned with his middle finger for Ben to return to his lane. The man’s lips moved, and Ben imagined what he was spewing.

He pressed the sedan closer and closer. The Jeep slowed. Amber leaned forward in the passenger seat, and her eyes widened when she saw Ben. He gave a quick shake of his head, hoping she knew it meant not to identify him to Jeremy.

At the apex of the bridge, Ben suddenly cut in front of the Jeep at an angle. Unable to stop in time, the Jeep’s fender and side crunched into the sedan. The maneuver wedged the vehicle in so it couldn’t advance, and Jeremy couldn’t open his door.

Ben threw the gearshift into park and stomped on the emergency brake. He leaped from the car with his Glock drawn but hidden behind him. So far, so good. Now if the cavalry would just arrive in time.

Jeremy had already climbed over the center console. He and Amber squeezed out the passenger door. Once they were standing between the Jeep and the bridge’s low concrete side railing, Jeremy let go with a stream of obscenities.

Her face as chalky white as the lines on the road, Amber stood rigidly beside him. The left side of her face was a darkening, puffy puzzle of purple and red. Dried blood crusted her swollen lips. Her eyes, wide and glassy, pleaded with him. Her chin quivered erratically.

“What the fuck were you doing?” Jeremy screamed at the end of his tirade.

“Sorry, man. Something’s wrong with the steering,” Ben said calmly.

“Stupid asshole. You could’ve pushed us off the goddamn bridge.”

“Dude, I’m freaked out too.” Ben shook his head apologetically. “Hey look, man, it’s all my fault. Let’s call the cops and get a tow truck out here.”

“No cops. My car will run. We’ll push your piece of shit out of the way. You gimme what cash you got and a check if you got one. We’ll call it square.”

He scratched his head. “But I’m gonna need a police report for my insurance company.”

“I don’t give a damn what you need. I need to get outta here. Now!”

Ben breathed a sigh of relief when he heard a siren approaching from the Coronado end of the bridge. Thank God for whomever had called 911 to report the accident. He’d counted on it.

Jeremy’s head jerked toward the sound and then back to Ben. “Don’t have time to move your car. I’m takin’ it.”

“What the hell you talking about? No way, man. Besides, the steering’s gone out, remember?”
C’mon, cops. Hurry.

“You wanna argue with this?” Jeremy yanked a gun from behind Amber and aimed it at Ben.

In the same instant, he raised his Glock. “Yeah, I do. FBI! Drop your weapon!”

Jeremy’s eyes widened with shock. Then they narrowed into menacing slits. His face hardened into a mask of irrational determination.

Damn.
These situations never ended well. The crazy bastard wasn’t going to give up. He’d rather die resisting. Suicide by cop.
Shit.

Jeremy swiveled the gun to press against Amber’s temple. She gasped.

“Move away from your car or the bitch dies.” Jeremy hunkered down low behind her, using her as a shield.

Ben didn’t have a clean shot.

“The cops are going to be here any second, Jeremy. No one needs to get hurt. Put the gun down and let Amber go.”

“What the hell? You know each other? Shit! You been fuckin’ my woman.”

He turned the gun on Ben, an easy target. Amber’s eyes and mouth opened wide with terror.

“Down!” Ben yelled to her.

Instead of dropping, she bent forward, using the momentum to strike Jeremy in the chin with her bound hands. At the same time, she stomped on his foot.

Jeremy’s gun jerked and fired.

Ben dove for the ground. Peering beneath the vehicles, he saw Amber fall to the pavement. Had Jeremy shot her when she punched him?

He rolled onto his stomach, aimed, and pulled the trigger. Two bullets struck Jeremy in the leg.

Screaming in pain, the man jumped up and down on his uninjured leg.

Ben bolted to his feet.

Jeremy’s arms windmilled wildly as he bounced next to the low concrete guardrail.

Ben took aim. “Drop the gun! Drop it now!”