“What happened?” Lucy asked. “Hooper found something?”
“Hooper found Jasmine’s legal name-Jasmine Flores-King. King was her married name and she still uses it. “Then he found the lawyer who set up all the shell corporations for her. Once we uncovered her legal name, he said it got a bit easier, but I still think the guy’s next to God when it comes to this stuff. Hooper knows what to look for and he found it.”
“That’s great. I need good news right now.”
“But get this, the lawyer left the country last week. Went down to Acapulco according to flight records. But his wife is in San Antonio, flew here on Monday from-get this-Acapulco. So we’ll talk to her, see if she knows what her husband is doing. If he fled the country to avoid prosecution or what. After the week we’ve had, I’m going to push her hard. No one is walking away from this bloodbath.”
As Noah spoke, Lucy’s stomach fell. She stared at him.
“Hey, do you need a doctor? You look pale. I’m sorry-I shouldn’t have dumped that on you tonight.”
“Spade,” she said.
Noah froze. “How did you know their name?”
“Sean. Sean was hired by his wife, Madison Spade, to go to Mexico and find her husband Carson and her son Jesse. She said they weren’t in Acapulco and she feared they’d been hurt or kidnapped. That’s why Sean and Kane went down there.”
“Has he found them? Does he know this guy is a fugitive?”
She nodded. “I haven’t spoken to Sean since…” When? Was it really this morning? “I talked to him briefly when we were at the property management office. Noon, I guess.” She rubbed her eyes. “He located them in Guadalajara and were working on an extraction plan. Sean suspected that Spade was laundering money after he dug around as Sean generally does… but he would have told me if he’d known it connected to my case.” She paused.
“What else?”
“I haven’t told Sean much about the case. We haven’t had much time to talk since he left.”
“Call him.”
She pulled out her cell phone and dialed. It went straight to voice mail.
She sent him a text message.
Call me. It’s urgent.
She watched as the text started to send. Then her phone beeped back a message.
Text undeliverable.
Marisol woke up because she was cold. She shivered, tried to reach for a blanket, and couldn’t move her hands.
She opened her eyes, panicked, but saw nothing in the dark. She heard nothing. She tried to shift but tight bindings cut into her wrists and ankles. She bit her lip to keep from crying out.
Everything was so fuzzy. She remembered the car… the trunk… the fear.
The fear was still with her. The fear would never leave. Until she died.
No, dear God, I can’t die. I have to save Ana.
They would kill Ana because of her. Take her babies and kill her. A cry escaped her parched lips.
Where had Dobleman taken her? She squeezed her eyes closed, tried to remember… she’d been groggy when he opened the trunk. Had he drugged her? Was she sick from the exhaust? All she remembered was he carried her into a house. It was dark. The middle of the night. And silence.
Flashes returned, of the big man, of him touching her. Tying her up. She didn’t remember much. Her stomach was empty, her head spun, and she knew, right then, that she would be dead very soon. If not by the big man then out of thirst or hunger or the sick she felt.
Heavy footsteps crossed the ceiling above her and she whimpered.
Then they stopped.
Hope didn’t last long.
They crossed the floor again and she heard a lock turn.
No. No!
The creak of the stairs. Then blinding light.
She closed her eyes and turned her head.
“I knew you were awake. I’m so lucky they gave you to me to punish. I’m going to have so much fun.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Sean didn’t dare contact Lucy, though he desperately wanted to.
His confidence level was usually high on ops like this, but tonight he wasn’t certain he would survive. He didn’t generally get involved this deep in the cartel battles-that was the domain of Jack and Kane and their teams of highly trained former military soldiers. Sean was the guy behind the curtain, the geek, the computer wiz, the pilot. He could shoot and fight if he had to, but he did much better using his brains instead of his brawn.
Instead, he wrote Lucy a letter, addressed it, and put it in his laptop case. He hid the laptop on the plane. If anything happened, he could only hope someone would find the plane, find the laptop, and send her the letter.
“Do you have any questions?” Jack asked him.
Sean had a million questions, but he knew the answer to all of them.
He glared at Jack. “You should never have let Kane do this.”
Jack didn’t smile, but his eyebrow rose just a bit. “Have you ever successfully talked Kane out of a plan?”
Good point.
“And if Dante betrays us?”
Jack stared at him with dark eyes that reminded Sean of Lucy.
“I’ll kill him.”
Jack was deadly serious.
Dante sent Sean a text message.
Meet is on. No weapons.
Sean showed the message to Jack. He nodded and disappeared into the dark.
Sean had the bag of money and bearer bonds. He put the backpack over his shoulders and took the ATV that he’d procured earlier. Being silent no longer mattered; they were expecting him.
He hit the dirt road two miles from where the plane was hidden, and turned toward the compound. He feared someone would take a shot at him, that Flores-who knew Sean had the money-would take him out en route, take the money, and then kill Kane. But none of that happened.
Sean hid the ATV a mile from the compound. If they had to foot it back to the plane, it was a fifteen-mile hike through unfamiliar terrain. He hid the duffel bag with the bearer bonds a good hundred yards from his ATV, then walked the rest of the way up the road. The night was hot and humid. His T-shirt stuck to his skin under the jacket he wore.
He already knew where the security cameras were, but he had rigged his tablet to give him information as he walked through. Wireless intel that he could use to hack into the system. Information was power, and Sean wasn’t going to go in completely blind.
Movement to his right and left stopped Sean in his tracks. He reached for his gun, then remembered he’d hid it in the bottom of the money bag-and slowly put his hands up.
“Smart move, Mr. Rogan,” an accented voice said.
Four men came into view, all with guns pointed at Sean. He twitched. Any one of them could have nervous fingers. The guns were crap, but that didn’t mean the bullets were faulty. And the closer they were, the more likely they’d hit their target.
“Where’s the money?”
“Hidden.”
“That wasn’t your orders.”
“I’ll tell your boss where to find the money when I know that Kane is alive and well.”
The guard hit Sean across the cheek with the back of his hand. Sean barely resisted hitting him back. He spit bloody saliva on the dirt road.
“Search him,” the leader ordered.
The other three men patted him down, turned out his pockets, took his burn phone and his small tablet, which were the only things on him.
“Walk.”
Sean complied.
The compound entrance was a hundred yards from where Flores’s goons picked Sean up. It was gated with two guards standing outside. Yesterday, when Kane first reconned the place, there had been only one.