San Antonio Secret, page 3
The boy’s grin widened. “Thanks, Mr. Vargas. This is the best birthday ever.” Charlie gave Rafe a huge hug and disappeared into the motel room.
“I hope he didn’t bother you, Mr. Vargas,” Elena Ripkin said in an exhausted voice. She pushed her ash-colored hair away from her face.
Rafe took his card and wrote a phone number on the back. “I have a friend looking for help. It pays well. Give him a call. Use my name.” He handed her a CTC card with his boss’s name and number.
Elena’s hand trembled when she clutched the bit of card stock. “Why? You don’t even know me.”
“I know enough,” Rafe said. And he did. The background check had revealed a woman whose husband had been killed in an oil field accident. Within months, she and Charlie had been evicted from their apartment. They’d lost everything.
A lot like Rafe’s family. And their story had not had a happy ending.
If he could give Charlie some hope…maybe he wouldn’t end up like Rafe’s brother, Michael. Dead at seventeen on the streets of Houston, executed by a rival gang.
*
THE WIND SHOOK the rickety trailer. Mallory huddled in the corner of the small bedroom’s makeshift cot, wrapping her arms around her daughter. Her heart still raced. Somehow she had to save them, but the trailer’s window had been boarded up and the door locked from the outside. Mallory’s fingers were bleeding from working at the thick planks of their prison. She let out a frustrated sigh. There was no escape.
At least the cowboy had untied them, even if Judson had cursed while the younger man removed the binding. It gave them a shot. She rubbed her wrists. The rope burns would heal. If they got out of here alive.
Mallory had no idea where they were. Far from San Antonio, though. They’d been locked in that van for hours, driving intermittently, occasionally stopping for Judson to make a phone call.
Whoever their kidnapper had contacted, it hadn’t put him in a good mood.
“Mommy,” Chloe whimpered, burrowing deeper into her mother’s arms. “I want to go home. I want my kitty. Princess Buttercup will get scared if I’m not there.”
With a gentle motion, Mallory hugged Chloe closer and kissed her head. “Hush, Button. Everything will be fine.”
The door opened, and Judson stepped into the bedroom cradling a sawed-off shotgun in the crook of his arm. “It’s not nice to lie to children.”
Mallory pressed Chloe up against her, praying she could keep her daughter safe. “She’s only a little girl. Please, let her go.”
“That’s the boss’s decision. He wants to see you. Alone.”
Mallory hesitated.
The man pointed his weapon toward Chloe. “I won’t ask again.”
Mallory kissed Chloe’s forehead, then shifted to get up, but Chloe clutched at her arm, her tiny fingers digging into Mallory’s skin in panicked desperation. “Mommy. Don’t leave me. I’m sorry I didn’t jump.”
Chloe’s face was streaked with tears. Mallory’s heart breaking, she stroked her daughter’s cheek, wiping away the dampness. She stood and fought to smile down at her daughter. “It’s okay. Be brave. No matter what happens. I love you, Button. Always remember that.”
Chloe whimpered, clinging to her mother.
Prying her daughter’s fingers off her arm, and with one last kiss on Chloe’s cheek, Mallory straightened and stepped away from the bed. “I’m ready.”
Her captor smiled, his eyes cold and dead. “I doubt that. But if you tell the boss what he wants to know, he might be lenient.”
She took one last look at Chloe, sent up a prayer and followed her captor through the narrow hallway into a living room. She glanced through the crack between the curtains at the front of the trailer. Night had fallen, but a bright spotlight illuminated the chaotic yard, strewed with trash and unidentifiable junk alongside several rusted-out car bodies. The place appeared abandoned, with a sea of darkness as far as the eye could see. No sign of civilization. No clue as to where they were.
A police car pulled up. The passenger-side window lowered.
“Judson. Get out here,” a voice called.
“Damn,” the guy muttered. He nodded at the man at her side, his weapon resting in the crook of his arm. “Watch her.”
Judson walked down the stairs. With tentative steps he approached the car. What kind of monster made a man who would kidnap a child that nervous?
One second later, a bullet slammed through Judson’s head and he fell backward.
Mallory froze in horror. She turned her face away from the dead body. “Why?”
The cowboy turned to Mallory, his face grim. “Judson let your friend escape.”
Did that mean Sierra was alive? Please let her be alive. Please let her find us.
The car door opened. The man beside her clutched his weapon with shaking hands. “Lady, if you want to stay alive, do exactly what he says and tell him what he wants to hear. If you don’t, you and your kid won’t make it out of here in one piece.”
*
THE LONELY WHISTLE of a locomotive chugging through town pierced the night. Rafe handed Elena the last two cans of chili and directions to CTC before the exhausted women disappeared into her room.
Rafe locked his motel-room door and flopped onto the bed, not bothering to remove his boots. He took a long swig of beer and flicked on the television.
Charlie didn’t know it, but he’d given Rafe a gift. A welcome interruption. Because today would have been his fifth anniversary.
Except Gabriella had died a month before the wedding.
The mission had gone so wrong so fast. Gabriella had taken a spray of bullets. She’d had no chance. Because Rafe hadn’t seen the betrayal coming. He hadn’t protected her. He’d let emotions overrule his judgment.
It wouldn’t happen again.
Rafe’s knuckles whitened around the beer bottle. Never again.
Regret for what had happened would never leave him. He’d learned his lesson. A lesson he should’ve learned as a kid, but hadn’t. A lesson he prayed Charlie would never have to learn. Never let your heart rule your head. You’ll get your head bashed in and your heart crushed.
Words he lived by. Except for one night. With Sierra Bradford.
It had taken one kiss for him to forget the lessons of the past. He still couldn’t believe he’d loved her, like he’d dreamed of from the moment he’d met her.
That one intimate encounter with Sierra had scared the hell out of him. He couldn’t risk caring for her. Caring meant allowing his emotions to rule him once more. He couldn’t do that. Sierra deserved someone who would give her everything. Heart, mind, body and soul. Not a man who not only didn’t know how to be a part of a family but whose heart had been used up and destroyed.
Yeah, Sierra deserved someone whole, but that didn’t stop him from dreaming about each kiss, every caress, or the way she’d held him tight against her as if she’d never let him go.
He dug into a pocket of his jeans and pulled out a small velvet pouch. He opened his hand, and a thin gold chain fell into his palm.
Sierra’s. It had broken during their night together. A very passionate night he would never forget.
Don’t go there. He tucked the chain back into his pocket.
He didn’t need another night of dreaming about her.
He flipped channels, searching for another distraction. His cell phone rang. Blocked number. Hopefully a CTC job. No one else called him. “Vargas.”
“It’s Noah. I need your help.”
It would have to be Noah. One of the few people he trusted. One of the few people who trusted Rafe. At least Noah would trust him until he found out Rafe had seduced his sister. And worse, run out on her. Even if it was for her own good.
Bracing himself, Rafe took a swig of beer. “What’s up? I thought you hung up your spy suit.”
Noah had been CTC’s best of the best. Now he worked as a consultant, making cool gadgets to use in covert ops. He’d been almost as quixotic as Rafe—until he’d found someone to love him and a reason not to risk his life.
“Sierra’s disappeared.”
Chapter Two
Fighting the adrenaline rush, Rafe carefully set the bottle on the rickety nightstand. This wasn’t happening. Not again. Right before Thanksgiving he’d searched for her. He’d barely gotten her out alive. He didn’t like the twisting in his gut, the uncomfortable panic driving his heart to race.
“When did you last see her?” He fought to stay calm.
“A couple days ago. She left a cryptic message about not making it to Sunday lunch. She’s been so reclusive since the attack, we gave her the space, but I went by her house to check on her. She’s gone with at least one suitcase, bed unmade, dishes in the sink. That’s not like her. I’m worried about her, Rafe. She hasn’t been the same since—”
“Archimedes. Damn him.” His teeth ground together. Good thing Archimedes was dead. Rafe would have taken great satisfaction in killing the psycho for what he’d done to Sierra. “You tracked her cell phone?”
“She knows how to block her signal. Or someone else does. That’s what I get for having a sister who’s better than I am at electronics. Even if she doesn’t believe it.”
“Zane might be able to hone in on her location.”
“He’s at CTC headquarters. I don’t want the boss thinking she’s gone off the deep end.” Noah hesitated. “I know we don’t want her working for CTC, but when Ransom put her on indefinite leave after Archimedes—at our insistence, if you remember—the light went out of her eyes. We screwed up there.”
Rafe adjusted the patch over his eye and rose from the bed. “No, we didn’t. The job’s too dangerous. She could get hurt. Or worse.” He’d be damned if Sierra put her life on the line any longer. She’d almost died once. If anything happened to her…
Rafe grabbed his duffel from the top of the closet. “I’ll find her, and I’ll bring her home. Then it’s your job to keep her there.”
“Just make sure she’s okay. She’s not herself these days, Rafe. She can’t sleep. She’s got circles under her eyes. I don’t want to lose my sister. You and I both know how the nightmares can take over your life.”
Yeah, Rafe knew. He’d had his fair share. He also had up-close-and-personal experience with Sierra’s demons. Her bad dreams had led to the best—and one of the worst—night of his life.
Spending time in Sierra’s arms had made him want more. That’s when he’d known he’d fallen way too deep. She’d ripped a hole in the Kevlar protecting his heart. She’d made him want forever. Except Rafe had learned all too well that love destroyed. He didn’t matter, but he couldn’t bear to hurt her more than he already had. So he’d walked away—for her sake—and instead had taken to watching her from afar. To make certain she was always safe.
She’d nearly caught him more than once, and he’d begged Ransom for another assignment. Something that would get her out of his constant thoughts. He’d believed he’d wanted distance, but he never should’ve ended his surveillance. If he hadn’t, he’d know exactly where to find her. “Did you check the buses and airlines?”
“I’m working on it.”
“I’ll call when I find her.” Rafe stuffed his 1911, a Bowie and his P-11 with its ankle holster in his bag, along with ammunition, a secure satellite phone and some of Noah’s more interesting tracking devices.
Now all Rafe had to do was find her.
He tapped a few keystrokes into one device and started the search. He had a bad feeling. He didn’t know if his gut was warning him of trouble or if he simply dreaded seeing Sierra again. Once he found her, could he resist her? Could he walk away again…and did he even want to try?
*
ILLUMINATED SIGNS DOWN the San Antonio street kept the road brightly lit even though night had fallen. The 18-wheeler’s engine rumbled in idle. Sierra clutched the door handle and shoved it open.
“Thanks for the lift,” she said, easing out of the truck.
“You sure you don’t want me to take you to the hospital?” the driver asked.
When her foot hit the ground, a shot of pain pierced her thigh. She couldn’t stop the wince.
“I’m fine.” And doing a lot better than Mallory and Chloe. First she had to take care of her leg. She’d be no good finding them if she passed out and ended up in the ER. Gunshot wounds at the hospital meant cops. Cops meant trouble.
She forced a smile and turned to look up at the man who’d saved her life when he’d stopped. She dragged the bag containing her laptop, extra money and credit card from the seat. She’d stashed it in the trunk when she and Mallory had left to pick up Chloe. Even though the car keys had vanished sometime during the abduction, luckily Sierra had been able to pop the trunk release just inside the driver’s side door and retrieve her belongings. “Thanks again.”
The diesel revved before the truck’s horn blared and the vehicle rumbled down the road. Sierra walked away from the motel, limped down several long blocks and hurried as best she could across four lanes of traffic. If anyone asked the trucker about her, they wouldn’t locate her easily.
After a quick stop at a convenience store for bandages, a burner phone and a few other supplies, she trudged another mile before locating the perfect, most nondescript motor inn on the street.
The place reminded her of another motel, another time. Another place.
She’d learned a lot from Rafe Vargas that week. Most lessons she preferred to forget. But how to disappear in plain sight, that was a skill she would find useful tonight.
Ready to collapse, she pushed through the motel’s office door, causing a dangling bell to chime. Within a few minutes, Sierra had laid down the last of her cash in exchange for a key. Once she’d locked herself inside the room, she sagged against the door.
She dumped the medical supplies on the rickety table and unbuttoned her jeans. She slipped them over her hips. The material stuck against her thigh. She hissed and froze. The blood had dried.
Closing her eyes, she slowly, gingerly tugged the denim away from her wound.
A sharp burn sliced up and down her leg. She whimpered. Maybe she should just rip it off, like a stuck bandage.
“One, two, three—”
A quick tug and the pants dropped to the floor. Sierra’s knees gave out. She sank to the floor, biting down hard on her lip to keep from screaming.
That hurt. Bad.
Her thigh throbbed, blood dripped from the reopened wound. For a moment she simply sat on the floor, rocking back and forth. When the spots stopped spinning in front of her eyes, she stood on shaky legs and padded to the bathroom.
Propping herself against the wall, Sierra irrigated the wound with hot water, picking out denim fibers and dirt, stopping every so often to lean her head against the wall and suck in several deep breaths before starting again.
A pounding knock sounded at the door.
Sierra limped to the table, wishing the kidnappers hadn’t taken her gun, and grabbed the scissors she’d purchased. As fast as she could, she crossed the room and slipped behind the door, knuckles white, her teeth biting into her lip.
“Mrs. Jones?”
The motel manager’s voice called through the door. He knocked again.
She said nothing. Surely he’d go away.
Her thigh throbbed in time with her pulse. She could hear every breath. She waited. After a minute or two, her muscles relaxed.
Urgent whispers filtered through the door, but she couldn’t make out the words. The doorknob jiggled. Metal on metal scraped. Damn. No one knew she was here. Had the men who kidnapped Mallory and Chloe found her?
Sierra skirted into the bathroom, gripping the scissors even tighter. If someone came in, she wanted a good look at him before she attacked.
“Mrs. Jones?”
Silent, Sierra peeked between the crack of the bathroom door just below the hinge. She made out the manager’s stout figure first.
The man frowned at the towels and trash scattered around the room. “She’s not here,” he said. “You’ll have to come back.”
The door creaked. “I’m her husband.”
She clutched the doorknob with a death hold. She’d recognize that voice anywhere, the deep rumble, the smooth velvet baritone, but she couldn’t believe those three words had escaped his lips.
“Rafe?” Sierra nearly rushed into the room before she stopped herself. Parading around in her underwear wasn’t an option. She peeked around the door.
“Hi, honey,” Rafe said, his expression grim, his voice soft and deadly. “I’m home.”
Before Sierra could contemplate how he’d found her, Rafe shunted the manager out of the room with an excuse, grabbed a bloodstained towel from the floor and wrenched open the bathroom door. He shoved the cloth at her. “What the hell is this?”
She snapped a clean bath towel from a rod and wrapped it around her waist to hide her high-cut panties and naked legs. “What are you doing here?”
“That’s a bullet graze,” he said, ignoring the question. He tugged the terry cloth back to reveal her injury, and before she could say a word, swept her into his arms. Gently, carefully he laid her on the small bed.
He straightened and tossed his Stetson on the chair beside the table.
With his six feet four inches of pure muscle and outlawesque eye patch, he looked like a hero who’d walked straight out of a romance novel. He’d certainly featured in more than one of her own fantasies. At least until the morning after one very passionate night. She’d dropped her guard, flayed open her heart and he’d stomped all over it.
“I don’t need the help. I’ve got the situation under control.” She propped herself up on her elbows and tried to shift to the other side of the bed.
He grasped her arm and held her in place, pushing aside the towel. He didn’t speak, but probed at the angry skin surrounding the wound, then arched his brow as he met her gaze.
Sierra squirmed under his lingering, enigmatic look. Rafe shook his head and rummaged through the supplies. He returned to her side with antiseptic, bandages, antibiotic ointment and tape.
