Redemption (15 page)

John nodded. There’d been no sign of a struggle. That meant Garcia had surprised her, overpowered her immediately. Given the chance, Hope would have fought back. The fact she didn’t was ominous.

“You think it was just Garcia? Or did he bring someone with him?” John asked. Luke hesitated and John pinned him with a glare. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“When I saw Garcia had entered the country, I checked further,” Luke said. “Seems Tómas and Ramon came through as well.”

John stepped forward until he was toe-to-toe with Luke. “What the hell kind of screwed-up operation do you run if known terrorists can just waltz into our country?” Tómas and Ramon. They were ruthless, soulless. They wouldn’t care that Hope was pregnant or that she’d known nothing about the money.

“Airport security doesn’t fall under my jurisdiction, Callahan. I’m just reporting what I know. How they got in isn’t important right now.”

They stared at each other until John stepped back. “So the trinity’s here.”

“You need to calm down.” Luke’s voice was low, controlled and commanding, and it set John’s teeth on edge.

“Yeah? I’ll tell you that when it’s Kate they have and watch you remain calm.”

A speculative gleam entered Luke’s eyes. “So it’s like that, huh?”

John looked away, completely ill equipped to handle his emotions right now. “She’s five months pregnant.”

“What?”

“She’s
pregnant
.”

Luke cursed.

“Exactly. So don’t stand there and tell me to calm down.”

“Maybe that will work to her advantage,” Luke said. “Maybe because she’s pregnant Garcia will—”

John laughed, the sound bitter and a tad on the wild side. “He killed his niece, Barone. Look what he did to us. What makes you think he’ll spare Hope and the baby?”

Luke’s lips thinned.

“You see now why we have to find her?”

“Where are you going to look?” Luke asked. “You have any idea where they took her?”

“None.”

“You can’t go running off half-cocked. We need to come up with some plan.”

Luke was right, of course. But sitting and discussing this while Garcia had Hope made John’s skin crawl.

“I think you’ll hear from him soon,” Luke said. “You have the key to the paperwork. Hope is the only one who can get inside that safety-deposit box. He’ll call. And when he does, we need to be ready.”

Hope’s head hurt. She couldn’t feel her arms or her legs. She had experienced panic and fear after waking up at John’s with no memory, but that was nothing compared to this panic.

She was in a hotel room. A cheap hotel room. The carpet was threadbare, the comforter on the bed old and worn. The place smelled of mildew and rotten food and she had to force herself not to throw up.

“You’re awake.”

Her gaze flew to the corner of the room where the outline of a man stood among the shadows.

“What did you do to me?” Fear made her voice quiver. Her hand automatically tried to cover her stomach but she found they were tied. “What’d you give me?”

Garcia stepped into the light. “Relax,
querida
. It was nothing deadly.”

She snarled and pulled at her bindings. Her wrists chafed against the rough rope as it dug into her skin. She tried to work her fingers around the knot.

“Save your energy,
querida
.”

She flung curses at him as she continued to struggle.

“Ah, now that is not nice.” He chuckled, clearly amused.

Movement from the other bed caught her attention. A woman leaned against the headboard and stared listlessly at Hope. She looked vaguely familiar. She had dark bags under her eyes, a nasty-looking bruise on her jaw and a puckered scar on her left cheek. Her clothes were cheap and nondescript, a white T-shirt and what looked like new jeans. Dull blonde hair was matted on one side and sticking up on the other. Who was she? She appeared to be drugged and Hope dismissed her as she continued to work on her bindings.

Garcia approached, a wicked gleam in his eye. “You can not escape,” he said. “I will not allow it.”

“Go to hell.”

Anger flashed in the dark depths of his eyes and he leaned forward, invading her personal space. He smelled good. Like something exotic and masculine. The contrast of the evil coming off him and the deep scent of his expensive cologne was disconcerting. “I am going to hell,
querida
.” He shrugged. “Just a part of doing business.”

“What do you want from me?”

He straightened and pushed his hands into his pants pockets as he rocked back on his heels, staring at her through half-closed lids. “I want the money Susanita owes me.”

“I don’t know anything about any money.”

His smile was malicious and she could have sworn she saw anticipation as well, which made her shudder. “It will be like that, eh?”

“I-I don’t know about any money she owes you.”

“Ah, but you know where it is, yes?”

She hesitated. She could hold out, not tell him. And he would beat her. John had barely survived this man’s wrath, she surely wouldn’t. And she had her baby to think of. “Yes, I know where it is.”

Disappointment flashed across his face. Had he wanted her to hold out? To force the confession from her?

The woman slid off the bed and walked to Hope, hatred twisting her scarred features. “I want my money,” she snarled. “You had no right to it.” She reached out. Hope winced, fully expecting the woman to slap her but Garcia caught her wrist before it made contact.

“Not yet, Susanita.” Garcia pushed Suzanne back. “We have uses for Miss Stewart.”

This
was Suzanne Carmichael? This dirty, unkept woman was the one who would have been First Lady? Who had ruined her father’s career, then killed him? Who had betrayed John and Luke and left them in a Peruvian prison? Hope curled her lip in disgust and hatred.

“Tell us where is my money.” Garcia’s smooth voice went hard.

***

John sat in his truck and stared at Daniel Webster’s dark house. It’d been five hours since Hope had gone missing and Garcia had yet to call.

He climbed out of the truck and headed toward the steps. The Christmas lights weren’t on and no lights shown from inside. With each step closer to the house, the sinking feeling in his stomach worsened.

He knocked, not really expecting an answer. Somehow Garcia had discovered Webster was friends with Hope. More than likely he’d gone through her house, found her mail, Christmas cards, address book. Anything that would lead him to her friends.

John cupped his hands and peered through the front window but couldn’t see anything so he turned and headed back down the stairs. Webster loved Hope. John had seen it in the way the man’s gaze tracked her every move, studied her face. He wouldn’t have given her up without a fight.

Hands shoved deep into his pockets, John headed back to his truck.

“You looking for Daniel?” An older woman, wrapped in an oversized sweater, with house slippers on her feet, stood on the sidewalk across the street.

“You seen him around?” he asked.

“Ambulance took him away early this morning.”

“Ambulance?”

The woman nodded. “Police say it was a burglary. Daniel got beat bad.”

It was what he’d expected, but hearing the words made his stomach curl. Damn Manco Garcia. “I’m visiting from out of town. We were supposed to go out to dinner. Is he… Is he okay?”

She shrugged. “They say he might not make it.” She tapped her head with a finger. “Damage to the brain, maybe.”

Inside his pants pockets, his fingers curled into fists of frustration. “You know what hospital?”

“Georgetown University.”

His hands were shaking as he headed for Luke’s place. He had a damn good idea what happened. Somehow, Garcia discovered the connection between Webster and Hope. Webster had no doubt held off as long as he could, but in the end, he’d been no match for Garcia and had more than likely been the one to tell Garcia where Hope was. Having spilled many of his own secrets at Garcia’s hands, John couldn’t blame the guy. He just wished like hell he would have seen this coming.

“Did you hear anything?” Kate asked as John stepped inside the townhouse and shrugged out of his jacket. She’d flown to DC with Luke but Luke had kept her away from the house until he’d determined it was safe. Now John couldn’t help but think
she
was
his
keeper, watching over him to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid.

“Nothing.”

She took his coat and hung it up. “I made coffee,” was all she said before heading for the kitchen.

John dropped onto the couch and leaned forward, elbows on knees. He needed to pull it together, but all he could think of was Hope in the clutches of Garcia and Angelina’s body lying in his cell.

“Drink this.” A steaming mug was shoved under his nose and he automatically grabbed it.

Kate settled into a chair opposite him, curling her legs up underneath her. Dried paint freckled her fingers and colored her nails. She’d probably been painting while waiting for him.

John sipped his coffee. He’d met Kate on Luke’s houseboat. The media had said Luke was dead, killed by his enraged ex-lover, Kate McAuley. John hadn’t believed it at first, until Kate had arrived and admitted to it. She’d held her hands out and all but commanded John to arrest her.

John had liked her immediately.

“Tell me about Hope,” she said into the silence.

He studied the dark liquid in his mug, the taste bitter on his tongue. “The smell of coffee makes her sick.” He set the mug down. “I love her.” He was surprised he’d spoken the words but not surprised at the feeling inside him. He’d known since last night he loved her, but he’d been too afraid to say it. Now he cursed himself for not telling her. What if she never knew? What if she died without knowing how he felt?

He shut his mind to that thought, absolutely refusing to believe he’d lose her after just finding her. “I never thought I’d find someone to love. Not after Peru.” He rubbed his eyes with his fingers. “She’s the only one who’s been able to stop the nightmares, you know?” He paused to get his emotions under control. “If Garcia…”

“Luke says she drove all the way to Tennessee to find you.”

He nodded.

“Seems to me that would take some strength of character. Don’t count her out yet, John. She’s a survivor, just like you.”

He shook his head. “You don’t understand. You don’t know Garcia.”

“I understand.” There was a wealth of meaning behind those words. Of course, Luke would have told her. Suzanne’s deception had torn Luke and Kate apart. They’d had a lot to work through to get to where they were today, but that didn’t mean Kate understood. Not really.

No one could unless they’d lived through it.

Angelina’s face came to mind. Not the smiling face that had delivered his meals, but the terror-filled face of someone who’d seen her own death. He bent his head and wiped at his eyes just as his phone rang.

John’s and Kate’s gazes collided before John lunged for the cellphone and thumbed it open. “Callahan.”

“I want the key.”

Kate leaned forward, her body tense as she tried to press her head to his to listen. Luke walked in and sat in the opposite chair, body calm but eyes sharp and clear.

“Yeah, well we can’t always get what we want.” John quoted the famous Rolling Stones song and Kate smiled, giving him a thumbs-up.

“You take me for a fool,” Garcia spat. The heavy South American accent turned John’s stomach.

“What do you propose, Garcia?”

“Give me the key or I hurt the pretty little
seńorita
.”

Hope was Garcia’s ace in the hole, the only one left alive to get Garcia the money. He wouldn’t kill the golden goose. Not until she handed over the documents needed to access the offshore account. So while intellectually John didn’t believe Garcia would hurt her, emotionally the thought tore him apart.

“How about a trade-off,” John proposed. “The key for Suzanne Carmichael.”

Silence fell heavy between them. John’s gaze went first to Kate, whose expression was sympathetic, then to Luke who nodded in approval. Against John’s strenuous objections, they’d agreed to this plan. Luke had rationally countered every one of John’s arguments until John had reluctantly agreed. With one provision.

“I want her away from Garcia before anything goes down,” he’d told Luke. “I don’t want Hope near any of that.”

Luke had agreed.

“Look,” John said to Garcia. “The woman doesn’t mean shit to me. It’s a win-win situation for you. You walk away with the girl and the money. I get Suzanne and some revenge.”

Garcia chuckled and the sound, at one time so familiar, sent chills up John’s spine. “You surprise me,
amigo
.”

Yeah, well, that had been the plan. John’s only surprise was that he could carry it off without falling apart.

“I never thought you were the type for revenge,” Garcia said. “But I wonder…”

There was a pause and John girded himself for what was to come.

“I am looking at her now.” Garcia’s voice went soft, almost musical. “I am looking at her hands bound behind her back, her legs spread before me, the look of terror in those beautiful eyes. Ah,
amigo
, it is
muy bonita
.”

John clenched his jaw and bit back the possessive growl that strangled his throat. He could practically feel Hope’s terror and the weight of responsibility lay heavy on his shoulders.

“Tell me,
amigo
, will she scream when I cut her? Or will she cry? Maybe she will beg for my mercy, eh?”

John nearly gagged. He didn’t realize until Kate’s hand came down on his back in a soothing gesture that he’d bent over, holding his stomach, breathing through his mouth. Garcia had always been a master at mental manipulation and he was honing his craft on John’s mind. Probing, trying to determine if John was taking him for a fool. John had expected it, but nothing could have prepared him for it. His saving grace was that he and Luke had no intention of leaving Hope with Garcia long enough to find out.

But he wondered if the damage had already been done. In saving Hope’s life, had he killed the best thing that had ever happened to him? Would she believe he would so readily give her up for revenge? For the hundredth time since he discovered her missing, John cursed himself for not telling her he loved her.

“Well,
amigo
? Will she scream? Or cry?”

John closed his eyes against horrific visions of Hope combined with images of Angelina’s dead body. He struggled to breathe, concentrating on Kate’s hand on his back. Before Hope, he would have never allowed Kate’s touch. Because of Hope, he was a whole man. Almost whole. He needed to free her first.

“It makes no difference to me whether she screams or cries, Garcia. I just want Suzanne.”

There was another long pause. John held his breath, his gaze going to Luke’s.

“
Bien.
Suzanne Carmichael for the key.”

John exhaled silently. “Meet me at the bank. Three o’clock. You, Ms. Stewart and Suzanne. Leave Tómas and Ramon behind. I see any hint of those two and I’m outta there.”

Garcia wouldn’t want to be saddled with two useless women and no money. He’d leave the goons behind.

Garcia agreed and they disconnected. John’s hands shook. He felt like a traitor to Hope and what they’d had together.

“This will work,” Luke said. “We’ll get her out of this.”

John stood, ignoring his best friend, hating himself.

“John, you know this is the only way—”

Kate put a hand on her husband’s shoulder. “She’ll understand, John.”

His gaze locked with hers and he had the horribly selfish wish that it was Kate in Garcia’s grasp instead of Hope. He walked away, headed to the room he and Hope had shared for the past two nights. He sat on the bed and inhaled her scent that lingered in the air and wrote his last will and testament. He didn’t have much, just a cabin in the middle of nowhere and a lot of money stashed away that he’d never use. He left it all to Hope and her baby.

Just in case.

***

Hope sat in the backseat of Garcia’s SUV and stared straight ahead. As the minutes ticked by, the tension and silence inside the vehicle increased. Garcia remained still, but the muscle in his jaw began to tick as he watched people enter and exit the bank.

Garcia had given her another shot of whatever he had injected her with before. This one wasn’t as strong, just enough to make her woozy but not enough to make her pass out. Her vision kept fading, as if she were watching the world through a fishbowl. If she turned her head, it took a moment for her brain to follow, so she tried not to move too much.