But his weapon of intelligence made him more dangerous than any crowbar the other men carried.
A greasy rag filled her mouth on a gag and her hands were bound behind her. She screeched and twisted with all her might, but one against six proved her fight hopeless.
No, not hopeless, she decided, settling her eyes on Gunn. She made sure he knew he would be the one to pay for every atrocity inflicted on her, right down to each and every broken nail.
The next second a bag covered Roni’s head, putting her into complete darkness. She took solace knowing she’d made her message clear. Like Jared, Gunn didn’t know how ruthless she could be, and also like Jared, he would soon find out.
* * *
FBI agent Ethan Rhodes needed to figure out a way to contact his handler, Pace O’Malley. He had a mock ransom to set up...and fast. With every mile away he drove, the stakes of life-and-death increased and his investigation imploded. Ethan stole a glance at the passenger seat where the vicious Franco Guerra practically licked his chops every time the woman stuffed in the back of the van restarted her screeching. She went through bouts since the second hour of driving north began. Ethan couldn’t believe she had a voice left after the first hour. She had to be so raw.
And scared.
Although you wouldn’t know it by looking at her. Ethan had never met anyone so brash when a gun was held to their head. She was either really sure of her fighting skills, or she was crazy.
Or, Pace was right about her, and she was working with Guerra’s boss.
Pace had enough on her to link her to the operation, and the way she knew they were cloning cars showed her knowledge about it. But something didn’t sit right with Ethan.
Veronica Spencer couldn’t be a part of the organization, no matter what her bank statements read. Guerra had aimed his gun at her head and meant to kill her. Why, if they were cohorts?
Did the woman know how close to death she’d been in that moment? Ethan doubted it by the way she’d lambasted them all for being in her garage. She had been fearless, even after nearly losing her life in the parking lot. Franco had been torturing her then, cutting off her air little by little to prolong her misery, playing with her like a cat and its dinner.
Ethan’s lips curled in disgust. The man was beyond sick. Eight months of getting close to him had turned Ethan’s stomach multiple times a day. The man had no loyalty to any of his men, using them as an example to the others when they “disappointed” him. One wrong move, and it was over. One guy caught with a cell phone a few months back paid the ultimate price when the phone nearly led the cops to Guerra’s door. Ethan didn’t dare have a cell on his person, which meant he was deep under with no contact with his handler. Just a tracker in his boot and a gun on his ankle.
When Guerra’s gun targeted the redheaded spitfire, Ethan knew Guerra would pull the trigger and laugh for days after. But what could be done to stop it, other than blowing the investigation?
Still Ethan had to try.
He had stepped up to her, planning to confiscate the gun and turn it on Guerra, but instead he said the first thing that came to his mind. The word ransom spilled from his lips. The only other thing Guerra liked more than torturing people was money. Veronica Spencer was worth a huge chunk of change. But still, as Ethan threw out the idea to ransom her, his lungs seized as he waited for Guerra’s response. He thought for sure his cover was blown. A year’s worth of going deep, tanked. An innocent woman’s life, ended.
No. Not innocent. Ethan had to believe the evidence Pace had on the glamour girl. Enough to put her away for years. There were even pictures from a street race in Miami with her and Guerra. And as soon as Ethan could get her “ransomed” out of here, Pace could cuff her, and Ethan could get back to bringing down Guerra’s ring—and the man he worked for.
As much as Franco Guerra was a despicable man, he wasn’t the man Pace wanted. Guerra was a car thief and mechanic, a means to much more sinister crimes that his cloned vehicles contributed to.
The man waiting for the cars was the real prize.
Ethan had no name at this point, just the term Guerra used: the Boss.
The Boss was in charge of a whole list of crimes, but it was what he transported in these vans that was beyond comprehension. Drugs, yes, and lots of them. But apparently, the Boss didn’t get the memo that the slave trade had ended. He trafficked thousands of victims in and around the United States each year, and Ethan had finally worked his way up to being one degree away from taking down one of the largest human trafficking operations in the States.
So close he was to cracking this case and infiltrating the operation successfully. So close he was to breaking free thousands of victims by putting away their owner.
So close.
The woman screeched again, an earsplitting sound, a reminder that he had another person to break out of here first. Get Veronica Spencer out before the whole investigation went down.
And if he could, do it without giving himself away.
She kicked the rear door for the hundredth time, and Guerra laughed with delight. “The chica’s got fire in her. I look forward to snuffing it out.”
Ethan’s stomach clenched along with his teeth. He fought the urge to pull over and arrest the sleazy man right there. Instead, he smiled Guerra’s way and hoped that it covered his true feelings well.
As well as his growing doubts in Roni Spencer’s guilt.
If she was working for the Boss like Pace said, why would Guerra try to take her out? A little disagreement between accomplices? Jealousy?
Or was this whole scene staged, made to look as if she was innocent in front of...who?
Him?
Ethan sent a quick look Guerra’s way. Had the man figured out he had an agent in his presence?
Ethan’s hand curled tight around the steering wheel. “Are you going to give me some directions, or are we just going to drive all night?” he asked, acting as if he didn’t really care.
“The Boss wants us to bring our feisty chica to him. He also wants to meet you. He was impressed with your vision to go big and ransom the woman. You just earned your way into the big house. What do you think of that?”
Ethan’s saliva glands juiced. He could taste the victory with this case already. So close had just become right now.
Ethan envisioned the win being handed to him on a silver platter, although knowing the extent of this ring, the platter would be solid gold. He couldn’t wait to tag the platter as Asset Forfeiture, and every other piece of property stolen by this crime ring. If he believed God cared one bit about him he might have thought he was being handed the win as some sort of reward. But that couldn’t be the case. God would never give him anything. And Ethan definitely didn’t deserve a reward, nor did he want any favors. He’d learned it was best never to expect any, especially in his line of work. He had a job to do, and he did it alone. Period.
Ethan switched lanes and answered Guerra’s question with an aloof shrug. “Should be interesting, but I was looking for some pocket change. I thought we were going to ransom the woman. What could the Boss possibly want with Spencer?”
Guerra stilled and glared at him with his beady black eyes. The man didn’t appear to buy Ethan’s nonchalance.
Ethan readied to spring into fight mode, his gun within reach in his ankle holster.
“Remember, muchacho, I’m putting my life on the line by bringing you along. I could leave you right here, if you catch my drift.”
Ethan locked his eyes on Guerra’s black-gazed warning. Slowly, Ethan smirked as if to say, is this a joke? A slow rumble of a laugh erupted from his tight vocal cords. The bluff was a risk, but no fear could be shown or he would be pushing up this spring’s daisies