Ethan stilled his hands on the wheel. Once again Guerra’s words didn’t sit right. “And we’ll ransom her there?”
“We’ll see,” Franco said with a small smile and looked out his window. End of conversation.
Again, Roni Spencer felt like a victim in all this, not an accomplice. She felt like an innocent civilian caught up in his investigation.
Ethan bit down on the inside of his cheek, remembering the last civilian he’d snagged in an investigation—and nearly got killed. He’d vowed never again. Solo or no-go. That’s how it had to be with him.
Ethan peered into the rearview mirror to the woman tied up in the back. Not a noise or movement could be heard now. He doubted she’d fallen asleep. She had to be listening to them. Had Guerra’s words ground her impudence into fear? Was she feeling as sick as he was? He had to stop this from going any further.
“I don’t think we should be bringing her,” Ethan said. “She doesn’t seem the type to go quietly. She could get us all killed.”
“Boss’s orders, and what he says, goes. I don’t think you want to get on his bad side. And not mine either. Now drive.” Guerra put his gun on his lap, his trigger finger itching to make his point.
Ethan continued north and thought of his tracking chip sewn into the inseam of his boot. He trusted Pace to be charting his every move north and following with the team. They wouldn’t be too far behind and would be ready to move in with guns blazing if Ethan needed them. But only if. Anything earlier would jeopardize the investigation, and Pace wouldn’t make his move a moment too soon.
Ethan drove on, leading Pace to the Boss, but that also meant leading Roni Spencer into even more danger. Whether she was a criminal or civilian didn’t matter.
He shot another look in the rearview mirror. The bundle on the floor remained still and quiet. Regardless of what Pace believed about her, something told Ethan he’d just graduated from undercover car thief in this operation to nefarious human trafficker. And Roni Spencer was his first delivery.
Roni’s aching head took hit after hit as the van bounced over a deep-rutted road. Logging roads in the middle of nowhere. They’d left the smooth highways a while ago and traveled far enough from her home that none of her family would ever find her. Not the one in the CIA, and not even Wade’s intelligent service dog, Promise.
The van thumped again and Roni forced her eyelids closed, swapping the tormenting darkness of her shroud for a darkness she controlled. Her arms and legs had long gone numb from the constricting ropes bound to her appendages. They drove her to near insanity, but not as much as her fear. In this moment of stark terror, all she wanted was her mom.
The image that formed in Roni’s mind wasn’t one of the photographs that portrayed her birth mother, but instead, a living and breathing woman, Cora Daniels, came to mind.
Cora was so much more than the family’s maid. She had worked for the Spencers long before Roni was born. It was Cora who cared for Roni so lovingly after the loss of her parents. It was Cora who filled the role as mother through the many surgeries on Roni’s burns and through the emotional pain that followed for so long after. It was Cora who made sure Roni never felt left behind, not when her parents died and not when Wade left for the army. Cora was Roni’s support team when her blood relatives weren’t, when her own uncle—her guardian—found her lacking. Roni pushed thoughts of Uncle Clay away. She didn’t need his negativity in her moment of life-and-death. She refocused on Cora’s loving face in her mind.
As long as she had Cora by her side, Roni pushed on. A life without her would be unbearable.
Cora’s last conversation with her that morning at breakfast filtered in. She’d brought up retirement again. Roni shook it off just as she had that morning.
Every time Cora brought it up Roni would cover her ears and sing “You Are My Sunshine” out loud. It had been their song since the day Roni woke up in the hospital wrapped in gauze. Only then it had been Cora singing because it would be a long time before Roni felt well enough to sing, or talk, or even whisper.
The van took a sharp right and came to a screeching halt, jamming Roni against the side wall. There was nothing Cora could do for her now. These men were killers, and the only way she would survive would be to play by the rules until a ten-second window opened up. Ten seconds would be all she needed to make her getaway.
The rear van doors creaked open and harsh hands pulled her out, feetfirst. Her covering was lifted off her head, exposing the two main criminals from her garage.
Her gaze caught the baby blues, and she dismissed their owner with a turn of her head.
“Time to meet the Boss, chica,” said the short, vicious one. He whipped the gag out of her mouth. “Don’t bother screaming. No one will hear you out here.” He tossed a head to reference the thick black forest around her.
She’d been taken to the middle of nowhere. On a sigh, she nodded her acceptance to remain silent and Gunn untied her feet to allow her to walk. Compliance would lead her to that window of escape. Except when she came around the van, the sight before her halted her in her tracks.
“What’s the matter, chica? Never seen a castle before? This one comes complete with a dungeon.” He pushed her toward a solid stone structure and her hope threatened to wane.
So much for windows.
* * *
Ethan walked behind Roni Spencer, his senses on full alert. Were Pace and his backup crew far behind? Would they arrive before the trio entered this stone monstrosity? He listened for them, but the only sound he heard was Roni’s boots clicking on the cobblestones. His men would know something was up when Ethan’s tracker alerted them to his moving away from the racetrack and Norcastle. Without a phone call to say why, they would swoop in. Ethan braced for the deluge of FBI agents that he hoped would make their move before the towering entrance doors closed behind them. His hand flexed for the moment he would retrieve his gun from the holster at his ankle and join in. His heart raced with the anticipation of finally taking Guerra down. Ethan would make sure he missed the grass and hit the cobblestones when he did.
As soon as Pace saw Roni was here, he would go after her with cuffs. Ethan knew it even without a briefing. His handler didn’t like the woman and itched to take her down. If Ethan didn’t know better, he would think there was something personal between the two, but then, the woman was getting richer off the organization and Pace had been working this case for years. Ethan couldn’t fault his friend for being disgusted with the whole organization and anyone involved. But he also couldn’t allow the man to mistreat Roni when he took her in. She didn’t deserve that. She deserved...what? Fairness?
The evidence said otherwise.
But the idea of her face slammed up against the stone walkway beside Guerra’s had Ethan stepping up close behind her. And just like that he made the decision to let Pace take down Guerra instead. A year of anticipation of doing the job himself flitted away on the basis of protecting this woman. Pace would say he’d gone soft. Him, Ethan Rhodes, an ex-hoodlum from South LA whose absentee father had hardened him to granite, soft. He scoffed.
Franco whipped around. “Problem, Gunn?”
Ethan stretched his fingers to make a grab for his holstered weapon. Staying undercover was crucial until his men made their appearance. If he blew it now, he wouldn’t be the only one dead. There were others working this ring from other places. Corrupt nail salons, massage parlors, even country clubs. The message would be out that the