Bounty Hunters: 03 Stay Hungry (26 page)

"Want to play a bit of cat and mouse?" It wasn't exactly Jake's favorite game. He preferred his perps to be a bit more aggressive and not quite as crafty. But that didn't mean he hadn't played the game before. "Annoying as it might be."

The Excursion pulled off the road, coming to a complete stop. Jake drove past them, not slowing or giving any indication that it mattered to him one way or another that they'd stopped. The Excursion remained on the edge of the road. They thought they were going to make him sweat it out. What they were really doing was giving him a chance to explore a bit, learn the playing ground.

Angela had sent the text warning him of a trap. Bobby, or whoever was standing in the driveway when Jake drove by, had tipped off the others. He'd lost the truck when it was warned Jake was trailing them. Obviously they were getting close to their destination. It was imperative they throw Jake off their track or somehow inhibit him so he wouldn't learn what they were up to. Not that Jake didn't already have a real good idea what was going on.

His headlights sliced through the darkness until the parking garage grew closer. It was one hell of a large cement beast, gaudy and almost hideous looking with white floodlights piercing through the night around it. Jake squinted against the night until he spotted the row of lights.

"Runway," he whispered, glancing at his phone.

His thoughts drifted to Angela. If Mandela had arranged for his kidnapped victims to be transported tonight, why was he spending the evening with Angela?

"So he can't be connected with them if this transport is busted," Jake answered his own question, and glanced in his rearview mirror. "Except that I followed them here from his house." Which made Jake an annoying liability.

If he called the cops now, arranged for the bust when Mandela's men tried transporting the kidnapped victims, Mandela would very likely walk. Angela would be his alibi.

"And I never confirmed the kidnapped victims were in Mandela's outbuilding." Jake slowed when he neared the parking garage.

There weren't headlights in his rearview mirror. The Excursion hadn't passed him, which meant they were sitting it out with their headlights off. Somehow he needed hard-core proof; then he needed to call the police. He didn't have any connections in this town, nor would he be honored or respected as a bounty hunter. At the same time, he couldn't allow so many victims to be transported just because he didn't have all the proof he needed. He'd stared at Marianna's picture long enough he believed he'd be able to spot her. If she was on that truck, Jake wasn't leaving until he had her away from Mandela.

Jake ran his fingers through his hair, grumbling as he entered the parking garage. He would have to hoof it if he was going to throw these goons off his ass. Which meant paying to park, then hoping he could get close enough for visuals before all the action occurred. Jake pulled into the first empty stall, parked, then jogged through the parking garage to the exit. He ignored the attendant in the booth and curious looks from drivers coming and going from the garage. None of them gave more than a glance at a man running through a parking garage in an airport.

A few minutes later, the muggy night damn near suffocated Jake as he sprinted into the dark. He'd guessed right. The SUV turned on its lights and finished its trek, passing Jake without seeing him as it followed the road to the runway. It didn't surprise him a bit to see the second SUV and truck appear a few minutes later. As much as he hated calling in before the game took place, there wasn't much else he could do. Too many innocent lives were at stake. And he
knew
those kidnapped victims were in that truck. He'd bet his career on it.

It took ten minutes on the phone with Chicago PD before he reached a detective who not only listened but also got rather excited about making the bust after Jake explained the story to him. After confirming his name and number, Jake finally got off the phone and moved closer, creeping through thick, wet grass that soaked his socks and shoes as he fought to see what he needed to see.

The two SUVs pulled to a stop on either side of the truck. Jake gripped his phone, ready to snap pictures the moment they began unloading their cargo. A small private jet sat on the runway. The lights from the jet and the runway provided enough light to get a clear picture when men started moving around the truck. Chicago PD better show up before the plane took off. Jake would rather deal with the victims here than have to accept that cops in another city would take over and Jake wouldn't be part of the bust. It sucked he couldn't contact Angela to warn her what was going down. Although it seemed Mandela spoke openly in front of her, from what Jake had witnessed so far.

Jake didn't recognize any of the men who now hovered around the truck. Worse yet, he didn't understand a word any of them were saying. They talked and laughed easily with one another but were speaking Italian. He could stumble his way through a Spanish conversation. And as much as people said the two languages were alike, at the moment, Jake would beg to differ.

He watched the men's actions instead. If he weren't paying so close attention, his phone ready to snap pictures of any incriminating evidence, he might not have spotted one of the men holding a long, thick object in his hand.

"Shit," Jake hissed, slamming himself against the hard ground when the man turned on his large flashlight and flashed his beam in Jake's direction.

The jovial tone of the men changed and they sobered, continuing to chat quietly among themselves but all focusing on the beam that one of them aimed carefully at the field between them and the parking garage.

They'd guessed Jake's plan. He lay very still, arching his neck so he could keep an eye on all of them, and didn't move an inch as he prayed they wouldn't detect him lying in the grass. It wasn't the first time he'd gotten so damn close to being popped by his perp he could taste it. His heart pounded in his chest and every inch of him was bathed in sweat as he stared at the five men. A couple of them moved closer to the edge of the runway, squinting against the darkness as they searched for him. Although it was probably only minutes, Jake swore he lay with his body pressed against the grass and dirt watching all of them for what seemed more like an hour. He was even more convinced that the kidnapped victims were in the truck with the care the men took to make sure he hadn't come out of the garage.

For a few minutes, when the beam of the flashlight traveled over him, Jake was positive they'd found him. He was carrying, in excellent shape, and more than willing to take on all five of them, if needed. It wouldn't look good if the PD showed up and he was battling for his life against the five men, but he'd do what he had to do to make sure those kidnapped people were freed tonight.

He didn't bother exhaling until the beam of the flashlight passed him by and swept over the ground far to his right. The men finally decided Jake wasn't in the field lying in wait. They turned their backs to him and once again began talking among themselves as they headed toward the moving truck. Jake dared move, although he remained lying on the uneven ground and shielded the light from his phone with his hand as he checked to see how much time had passed since he'd ended the call with the Chicago detective.

Detective Mike Ames had given Jake his cell phone number, which Jake had ready to redial if needed. He would only have to push one button to put the call through. He hated not being able to reach Angela. As much as he ached to brief her on the pending bust, he would have to rely on her experience to be able to ride with the knowledge when it became apparent to her that her date was suddenly not a happy camper. Jake speculated the man would be enraged. Angela already had shared with Jake what Mandela did when he got pissed. If the asshole laid one hand on Angela, Jake would rip the man to shreds.

Jake's heart began thumping all over again when several of the men jumped into the back of the truck and handed down what looked like a large metal crate to the men standing on the ground. Whatever it held, it was heavy. Jake watched the men strain and one of them jump out of the truck to assist the two on the ground. The three of them moved slowly around the truck, carrying the crate between them as they headed to the waiting airplane.

The moment they walked into the light, Jake snapped his first shot. He couldn't risk using the flash and prayed the pictures would come out. His phone had a decent camera on it, but he was losing daylight fast. The crate was made out of thin, metal bars. They were hauling Mandela's army as if they were dogs. It reminded Jake of the kind of crates he'd seen at the home of one of the ladies he used to visit who owned Great Danes. She always crated her dogs when he came over.

Jake blinked, giving himself a quick mental shake. He didn't want to dwell on time spent with any of the women in his past. The only good thing that came out of that closed chapter in his life was knowledge that he'd never spread himself around like that again. He wasn't sure why it mattered so much to him that he convince Angela he wasn't a player, especially when she was in Chicago and he was in L.A. He couldn't be a bounty hunter in Chicago.

But Angela could be a private investigator in L.A.

Jake almost laughed out loud. Instead he grumbled under his breath. He'd had a lifetime of hearing how cocky and arrogant he was. He was absolutely losing it if he thought he'd be able to convince her to give up her life and move to L.A. with him.

He knew he wouldn't regret it if he did convince her to give him a chance.

Once again he reminded himself that now wasn't the time to dwell on Angela. Although he couldn't help worrying about her as this scene played out, he needed to focus on his actions right now. What mattered was grabbing the best proof he could to nail Mandela to the wall.

He snapped another picture when the men started climbing the stairs with the crate to load it on the plane. One of the men in the truck yelled to the others at the plane and began waving his arms when a line of cars appeared at the intersection with the convenience store and started coming toward them.

Jake's gut twisted as adrenaline flooded his system. The cavalry had arrived. He squinted at the cars, watching them come closer, and moved to his hands and knees when two of the cars turned on their lights. Red and white lights flashed across the field, turning the scene into a surreal setting. The five men started shouting at one another in Italian as they hauled ass to their SUVs, not that they had a chance to escape.

Jake pulled his gun, shoving his phone into his back pocket, and started across the field. The moment one of the men spotted him, they pulled their guns. Jake wasn't sure if he fired the first shot, but his aim proved better. One of the men fell to the ground, howling loud enough to wake the dead as the squad cars surrounded the SUVs and moving truck.

Suddenly there were uniforms everywhere. Jake reached the edge of the field, anxious to see for himself what was inside the truck. He needed to find Marianna. The pain on Angela's face when she'd learned her younger half sister was missing had torn at his heart. If he could return Marianna, bring Angela that happiness, it would be worth risking a bullet or two.

It didn't surprise him that the men surrendered easily. When he pulled out his badge, which identified him as a Californian bounty hunter, the local PD wasn't as impressed as he'd hoped.

"Back off, mister," one of the uniforms informed him, pushing Jake in the chest to prevent him from approaching the truck.

"Man, I called this in," he argued, but looked past the uniform and searched for someone in plain clothes. "Where is Detective Ames? I spoke with him on the phone."

More cars showed up and the cop who'd pushed Jake away from the truck turned his attention to his backup as more uniforms flooded the scene.

Jake tried stepping around the cop, his attention on the entrance to the back of the moving truck. He caught a glimpse of more crates, stacked on one another, when the cop who'd pushed him grabbed his arm.

"Look, man," he snapped. "Back off or I'll cuff you, too."

"I tipped off your department," Jake argued, yanking his arm out of the cop's grasp. "Where is Detective Ames?"

"Are you Jake King?" a tall man in a suit asked, adjusting his tie as he made eye contact with Jake. The man said something to the cop that Jake didn't catch, but the uniform seemed more than willing to leave Jake alone with the man in the suit. "Make sure we have every inch of these trucks and SUVs dusted and gone over with a fine-tooth comb," he ordered, and the cop nodded once before trotting off to assist with reading rights to the men who'd barely made it to the SUVs before they were detained.

"I take it you're Detective Ames," Jake said, edging closer to the back of the truck. His stomach twisted with revulsion when another officer flashed his light into the back of the truck. "Son of a bitch," he mumbled under his breath.

"I'm Detective Mike Ames," the suit said, dragging Jake's attention back to him. "Mind if you show me some ID?"

"Not at all." Jake handed over his badge, then stepped around Ames and stood at the back of the truck, staring at the large dog crates that held men and women, all whom appeared to be drugged. They were mostly lying in fetal position, stacked on top of one another, and judging by the smell hadn't been bathed anytime recently. "Good God," Jake uttered, outraged at the sight of the victims who'd almost been hauled off to commit some terroristic act.

"Mind telling me how you knew about this?" Ames asked, handing Jake's badge back to him. "Not to mention what you're doing in our fair city."

"We've been investigating the game for a while," Jake began. He focused on each crate, searching for Marianna.

He glanced toward the road, as did Ames, when a couple more cars approached. Jake shifted his attention to Ames in time to catch his frown turn to a scowl. Ames left Jake standing there and moved around his crew. He walked up alongside one of the two cars as they came to a stop behind the farthest squad car.

With lights flashing and cops around him talking and yelling orders to one another, while others, who apparently spoke Italian, were Mirandizing Mandela's thugs and loading them into the backs of the squad cars, the scene was quickly becoming a distraction. Jake wanted to check out everything before it was tagged and processed in as evidence, but at the same time Ames' behavior grabbed his attention. The detective didn't appear pleased with the arrival of the two unmarked cars.