Against the Night (27 page)

“Who is it?”

“Police. Open up.”

The dead bolt slid back and the door swung open. Manny Ortega stood across from him.

“Detective Vega, Mr. Ortega, LAPD. I’ve got a few questions I need to ask you.”

Ortega looked over Rick’s shoulder, searching for more police, but he was the only one there.

“How the hell did you find me?” Manny was a good-looking twenty-five-year-old, tall with black hair and dark brown eyes. He was wearing a pair of baggy navy blue swim trunks and flip-flops, no shirt, and the kid was ripped.

“I called in a few favors, found out David Moore’s son is a friend of yours. I put two and two together. I need to ask you a couple of questions about a woman named Rachael Brewer.”

Unlike his dad, Manny wasn’t good at hiding his emotions. Clearly he knew who Rachael was. “I talked to the cops about this already.”

Interesting. No mention in any of the reports he’d seen. “Just a couple more questions. Mind if I come in?”

Manny stepped back letting Rick walk past him into the living room. The bungalow was small, just a living room, kitchen and bedroom, but the view was spectacular, with windows overlooking the cliffs onto the beach and an endless stretch of ocean.

The sight of a petite, black-haired Hispanic girl walking out of the bedroom in a bikini beneath a gauzy cover-up wasn’t bad, either.

“This is my fiancée, Chrystal Sanchez. Hon, this is Detective Vega.”

“Nice to meet you,” Rick said.

“You, too,” the girl said.

Rick thought of Rachael, a stripper from the Kitty Cat Club, and the relationship she might have had with Manny. “Is there someplace we can speak in private?” he asked.

“Like I said, Chrystal’s my fiancée. I don’t have anything to hide, you can ask your questions in front of her.”

“All right. I came to find out if you had a relationship with Rachael Brewer.”

“No, absolutely not.”

“Rumor has it the two of you were seeing each other.”

“Not true. I never took her out, never took her to bed. Nothing like that.”

“But you knew her.”

Manny glanced away. “I saw her a couple of times in the Vieux Carre.”

“Who with?”

Manny licked his lips. Rick waited for the lie. The kid was a lousy liar.

“I don’t remember. Just some guy. What matters is it wasn’t me.”

That part was true. Watching him, Rick was fairly certain. “I need to know who she was with. I’d like to see your security tapes for the two-week period leading up to her disappearance.”

“We don’t have security cameras at the Vieux Carre. Our clientele is adamant about their privacy.”

Which was probably also true—a lesson learned from Daddy.

“Is there anything at all you can tell us that might be of help?”

“Not a thing.”

“Rachael Brewer was last seen departing your father’s jet after it landed in Belize.” Information Johnnie had confirmed when he’d called this morning—the reason Rick had volunteered to make another attempt at finding Manny.

Well, one of the reasons. The other was he hadn’t been able to get Rachael Brewer out of his head.

The kid just stood there staring, looking as if he had just been poleaxed.

“I wouldn’t…wouldn’t know anything about that. My father and I rarely see each other.”

But clearly he knew something about the connection between Rachael and his dad. From the look of panic on his face, Manny didn’t, however, know Rachael had been on his father’s plane.

“Sure you don’t have anything else you want to tell me?”

The kid just shook his head.

Rick handed him a business card. “If you come up with anything that might be helpful, give me a call.”

The kid swallowed, nodded.

“I should remind you that aiding and abetting criminal activity is a felony. If you know something, now is the time to say so.”

Manny shook his head. His fiancée wrapped her fingers gently around his arm.

“Manny isn’t like his dad,” she said. “He does his best to stay clear of all that.”

Rick nodded. In a way he felt sorry for the kid. It had to be tough being the son of a notorious gangster.

“Think about what I said.” Rick turned to leave, wishing he’d found out more. As soon as he reached his car, he called Johnnie’s satellite number.

“It’s Rick. Manny wasn’t involved with Rachael. It was someone else. At least that’s my take.”

“Where’d you find him?”

“I did a little digging. He was staying at a friend’s place in Malibu. I think Manny knows who Rachael was seeing, but he isn’t saying. And he didn’t know about his dad hauling Rachael off to Belize.”

A sigh whispered out on the other end of the phone. “That still leaves us with a question mark as to how she got involved with his father, but at least we’re pretty sure where he took her. Sol located an island owned by the Genesis Corporation. If you dig deep enough—and I mean deep—you come up with a link to Ortega.”

“You think Rachael’s still on the island?”

“In one form or another,” Johnnie said, and Rick knew he meant she was there somewhere—either alive or dead.

Rick’s jaw felt tight. “You going in?”

“Cantrell’s flying down with a buddy. We’ll recon the place, figure a way to get in and take a look around. What we’ll find, I don’t know.”

Rick knew what they would likely find—nothing at all—not without dragging half the Caribbean Sea. It gave him a headache to think of it. “Well, good luck, my friend.”

“Thanks, and thanks for the intel.” Johnnie hung up and so did Rick.

He’d found out a little, not enough.

Rick walked back into the station and found Lieutenant Carla Meeks waiting, and got his ass chewed for inserting himself in a case he wasn’t working.

He wondered if it was worth it.

Twenty-Four

The air conditioner roared, sending a stream of cold air into the motel room. Amy stood at the window. Outside, the late morning heat and humidity were building, the sun blazing down on the white sand beaches, a light breeze pushing the sails of the boats out on the water.

Johnnie finished his call and set the satellite phone down on the small round table in the corner. “That was Vega,” he said. “Manny wasn’t seeing Rachael.”

Amy felt a sweep of relief. Until it struck her. “Oh, my God, so it wasn’t Manny after all. It was Danny, just like her hairdresser said.”

Johnnie started frowning. “I guess that’s probably right. So who the hell is Danny?”

“If Rachael’s on that island, she’ll be able to tell us.”

“Yeah,” Johnnie said, but Amy could see he wasn’t convinced. Johnnie believed Rachael was dead. It was the logical conclusion. Rachael had been missing for two full months. If she was alive, she would have called, tried to contact her family in some way. Amy tried to prepare herself, but her chest squeezed painfully.

“Cantrell ought to be here soon,” Johnnie said. “We’ll get things figured out once he’s here.”

Amy looked over at the phone. “I hate to ask, but would it be all right if I called my mother? I don’t want her to worry.”

Johnnie cast her a glance. “Yeah, no need for her to worry. Her daughter’s in Belize for a couple of days—tracking down a notorious drug lord. No problem at all.”

Amy drilled him with a glare.

“Go ahead and call her.”

She put the call through, and she and her mother talked briefly. Amy didn’t mention she wasn’t in L.A.

“I wish you’d come home,” her mother said as she always did.

“I will, Mom, soon. I promise.” As she ended the call and set the phone back down on the table, she glanced over at Johnnie and felt a soft pang in her heart. One way or another, all of this would soon be over. It would be time for her to go back to Michigan, time for her to end her charade as Angel Fontaine and her summer fling with Johnnie Riggs.

A summer fling that didn’t feel like a fling at all.

She reminded herself she had known from the start it couldn’t go further. John Riggs was who he was—a sexy, dangerous man who made her heart flutter with a single glance. And she was who she was—a kindergarten teacher from Michigan.

The phone started ringing. Johnnie picked it up. Nodded at something that was said. “I’m on my way.”

“They’re here?”

“Plane just landed at the airport. Let’s go.”

“It’s only a mile down the road. I’ll just wait for you here.”
Where it’s nice and cool,
she thought.

“Not gonna happen. You forget about your little trip to the grocery store? People know you’re looking for your sister. Get your purse and let’s go.”

He was right, of course. The woman in the grocery store wouldn’t say a word—she was too frightened. But the first woman—the one she hadn’t mentioned to Johnnie—she might tell someone, and if she did…

Amy grabbed her purse and headed out the door.

The plane was on the ground when they got there. Johnnie waved to the pilot of the little 180 as it turned at the end of the tarmac and started taxiing back the way it had come, revved its engine and prepared to takeoff. Jake Cantrell strode toward him across the asphalt, six foot five inches of solid muscle.

Johnnie glanced at Amy to see her reaction. She was staring wide-eyed but not the way Angel Fontaine had looked at Johnnie when he’d first walked into the Kitty Cat Club.

That was one helluva relief.

She gave the man walking beside Jake a once-over, but nothing more. He was dark-haired like Jake, with the same blue eyes, but his were ice-cold, his face more ruggedly carved, a good-looking man just the same.

“Johnnie Riggs meet Ben Slocum,” Jake said. “And I presume this is Amy Brewer.”

“That’s right.”

Ben reached out to shake Johnnie’s hand. “Riggs.”

Johnnie shook. “Slocum.”

“Hello,” Amy said a little shyly. “It’s nice to meet you both. Thank you so much for coming.”

“Car’s over here,” Johnnie said. The men threw their gear bags into the trunk and climbed in for the brief drive back to the motel.

“Dietz ordered the pilot to fly over the island before we landed. Didn’t see much security. Ortega’s arrogant enough to think no one can connect him to the island. He probably feels safe there.”

They reached the motel and Johnnie tossed Jake a key to the room two doors down from his. Jake and Ben carried their gear inside the double room and Johnnie and Amy followed.

“You able to get what we need?” Johnnie asked.

Jake unzipped one of the bags he’d picked up in Belize City after Dietz had met them at the airport. “A couple of handguns, some heavy artillery—AR-15s, and my personal favorite—”

“A hand grenade?” Amy asked, her eyes wide as she stared at the device.

“Flash grenade,” Jake corrected. “Big boom and bright light. Creates a diversion.”

Johnnie grinned. “Came in handy last time.”

“Last time?” Amy asked, looking even more uncertain.

“Long story,” Jake said.

“I got us a boat lined up,” Johnnie said, bringing them back on track. He had gone out early that morning and found what they needed. “Guy who owns it gives speedboat rides to tourists. I gave it a trial run and, man, that baby is fast.”

“Long as it gets us there and back,” Slocum said darkly. Being an ex-SEAL, he’d been around plenty of boats, probably not that picky as long as it didn’t sink and got the job done.

Jake pulled a map out of his gear bag and unrolled it. With three big men circling the table, Amy all but disappeared. Still, Johnnie could see her peering between their shoulders, closely following everything that was going on.

So far, she’d been a real trouper. But then, she still believed her sister was alive. Odds were, even their trip to the island might not give her the answers she wanted. Ortega was careful. They might not find a damn thing.

The hours slipped past. The men wouldn’t leave for the island until after dark. Amy watched them in awe. They were all ex-military, true professionals. She couldn’t help but be impressed.

While they took a break from their planning, Johnnie made a food run. He returned from the village with bags of deep-fried fish and chips, Cokes, burgers and a thermos of coffee.

They dug in as if they were starving.

“We’ve got a little problem,” Johnnie said, between bites as the men wolfed down the food. He tipped his head in her direction. “We can’t afford to leave a man behind to protect Amy and I don’t like leaving her here alone. Not after she’s been sniffing around, asking questions about her sister.”

“Getting answers, too, as I recall,” Jake reminded him, and Amy gave him a warm little thank-you smile. After all, she was the one who’d found out about the island. She’d been helpful, even if Johnnie didn’t want to admit it.

“Maybe so,” he grumbled, “but we need to find a safe place to stash her while we’re gone.”

“We’ll move her down the road to another motel,” Jake suggested.

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking. I still don’t like it, but I can’t see any other way.”

“She wouldn’t be able to use a weapon by any chance, would she?” Ben Slocum’s ice-blue eyes slid over her coolly. She might as well have been a lamp on the bedside table.

“I’m right here, guys,” she said a little tartly. “I can hear every word you say, and I can shoot a gun if I have to.”

“I’ll leave her my ankle gun,” Johnnie said. “She knows how to handle a .38.”

Jake looked impressed.

Amy sipped her Diet Coke and glanced at the clock. It was only 9:00 p.m.

“It’s been a long day,” Johnnie said. “Why don’t we crash for a couple of hours, be ready to leave at midnight.”

“Sounds good,” Jake agreed.

Slocum walked over and stretched out on one of the double beds. “I could use a little shut-eye.” He was sound asleep by the time Johnnie led her out the door and Jake locked it behind them.

It had been a long day and Amy was tired, but tonight the men were going on a mission to find her sister and her nerves were strung too tight to think about sleeping. She turned the light on and jerked to a stop just inside the door.

“What is it?” Johnnie pulled the pistol out of his shoulder holster.

“Someone’s been in here. My bag wasn’t zipped all the way. Now it is.”