Exposed (25 page)

A split second of taut silence filled the room as everyone absorbed the gravity of it. Then the lead investigator leveled an urgent look at his assistant.

“Get me everything you have on
el Santo
, and everything you can find on Miguel Salvador and Miguel Bautista. Military and employment records, tax returns, everything. I want to know every place he’s been seen the last five years and find out where his grandmother is. Somebody there might recognize him. Let’s move.”

The other agents all shot out of the office in a flurry of movement. Ethan envied them. They had a task to complete, a purpose, something to occupy their time. All he had was a gut full of anxiety and a red-hot coal burning a hole beneath his sternum. His chest was so tight he could barely breathe.

If Miguel was in fact
el Santo
and he had Soli, her odds of survival weren’t good to begin with. And those odds declined with every passing minute. Ethan clung to the small sliver of hope that Miguel had to have taken her for a reason. Why kill her now, after going to all that trouble when he could have killed her back in Key West?

Vance stepped up beside him and laid a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll wait here with you, man.”

“Me too,” DeLuca added. “I’ve already called Celida, maybe she can help with something on her end.”

Ethan nodded but didn’t respond. He was totally preoccupied with what had happened to Marisol, with what might be happening at that very moment, and the odds of her surviving abduction by the Fuentes cartel’s deadliest enforcer.

Every twisted, fucked-up thing he knew about the state of
el Santo’s
victims came back to haunt him.

He remembered every picture he’d seen of their blood-soaked, dismembered bodies, the pieces scattered in the swamp to await the gators. The halo symbol carved into their skin, done while they were still alive.

His stomach pitched. He swallowed repeatedly to battle the wave of nausea that gripped him. He shook it off, ordered himself to get his shit together. His lady needed him.

A female agent suddenly appeared in the doorway, her expression urgent. “Just got an anonymous message from a burner phone stating that both
el Santo
and another enforcer named Villa are both near a marina not far from here. Surveillance video caught a picture of a guy matching Miguel’s description carrying that heavy bag again. He stashed it on a boat, then left.”

Ethan surged to his feet, needing to move, get there right fucking
now
. “What marina? What boat?” he demanded.

DeLuca was already on his phone. He must have already discussed authority protocol with the Special Agent In Charge, because in the background Ethan heard his commander say Tuck’s name and start explaining the situation. It meant if a rescue op or takedown was involved, the HRT would be deployed.

Adrenaline rocketed through Ethan’s veins. He wanted to get moving, go after Marisol and then take out that fucker Miguel and whoever the shooter had been this morning.

The female agent told them what they needed. Ethan looked at DeLuca, who was still on the phone, relaying the fresh intel to Tuck. “Get the boys ready, bring the DEA guys in too just in case. I want everyone at that marina within the next fifteen minutes, with two boat crews ready to go.”

Ethan didn’t wait to hear more. They were going after Marisol, possibly both
el Santo
and Villa as well in the process. He didn’t care about bringing the enforcers down, he only cared about getting Marisol back. She had to be okay.
Had
to be. He couldn’t handle the thought of losing her, of how empty his life would be without her.

He started for the door.

“Cruzie, wait.”

He halted and looked at DeLuca over his shoulder. Trepidation gripped him when he took in his commander’s grim expression. His heart thudded as he realized what was about to happen. Oh God, no, he couldn’t be benched. Not when Marisol needed him.

“You know the rules here. And you know it’s not personal.”

Ethan shook his head, pushing aside the blast of panic. DeLuca pulling him wasn’t personal, it was protocol. His commander had final say over who participated on an op, and because he knew Ethan was emotionally invested in Marisol, for safety reasons he could pull him. His teammates’ lives depended on every one of them having a clear head on an op.

He searched for the most logical argument he could muster, needing to prove his head was on straight. “We don’t have time to replace me on the team, even if you used one of the DEA guys. Her life’s at stake. She means something to me, yeah, but I won’t let it affect my judgment or performance out there. You
know
me, you know I’m solid and you also know we can’t waste time talking about this.”

A hot ball of anxiety pushed up from his diaphragm. If he was sidelined on this one he’d go out of his fucking mind.

DeLuca sighed and took off his Chargers ball cap to run a hand over the top of his head, then tugged it back on. “Don’t make me regret it. If you can’t stay detached on this one, you need to pull yourself before someone gets hurt.”

Ethan nodded, his lungs finally opening up again. Without waiting another second he rushed for the door with Vance and DeLuca right behind him.

****

A bitter, metallic taste coated her mouth.

Marisol struggled to surface from the heavy weight pulling her under. She forced her eyes open, could only pull her lids apart a fraction of an inch as her brain rebooted. But it was enough.

She was tied hand and foot to a post beneath a table in a small room. The salty scent to the air and the slight rocking motion told her she was on a boat of some sort. It took monumental effort to twist her head enough to look at her hands. Duct tape.

Now that she was becoming more alert, adrenaline flooded her bloodstream. The shootings. Miguel. He’d taken her. Why? And why leave her here?

She wasn’t waiting around for him to come back so she could ask him.

Struggling into a sitting position, she yanked at the tape holding her wrists to the metal post holding the table up. She leaned forward to see if she could use her teeth on the tape but she couldn’t quite reach. The tape rubbed her wrists raw but she didn’t care, just kept pulling in short jerks.

Bit by bit it loosened. Heartened by the sound of the adhesive tearing away little by little, she wrenched harder, biting down on her lip as her skin burned.

One more hard jerk and some of the tape gave way. It took some maneuvering but she managed to twist her hands back and forth until she finally slipped one free. Her fingers shook as she ripped at the tape holding her other hand captive. Once both were free she began working on the tape binding her ankles together.

On shaky legs she stood, throwing a hand out to catch herself on the tabletop while she gained her balance. The small cabin spun for a moment. She closed her eyes, breathed through her mouth until the dizziness passed.

Then she heard it.

Light footsteps on the topside deck.

Shit!

Her gaze darted desperately around the cabin, searching for a weapon of some sort. She might not have any hand-to-hand training but she would defend herself. If Miguel or anyone else came through that hatch, she would attack them. Anything to gain her freedom.

She spotted a long handle of some kind tucked beneath the bulkhead on the left hand side of the cabin, and rushed for it. An oar.

The footsteps came closer. Whoever it was stood directly over the hatch now.

Marisol grabbed the oar. Her fingers wrapped around the long handle and curled tight. Raising it over one shoulder, she braced her feet in a wide stance and held the weapon in a white-knuckled grip, waiting for whoever was up there to come down.

The hatch popped open.

Marisol held her breath, the slamming of her heart making her dizzy.

Two booted feet appeared, followed by slender legs encased in skin tight black. Then curvy hips, a slender waist.

A woman? The thought confused her but she held fast, waiting to strike. She was too far away to hit her with the oar.

Rather than walking down the remaining steps, the woman leapt and landed in an agile crouch on the floor. Momentarily thrown off by the move, Marisol stood there, frozen. That single move told her this woman had training.

The woman had deep brown hair and ice blue eyes. Eyes that swept over her from head to toe and back again. Then she smiled as though in approval.

Marisol suppressed a shiver. “Get out of my way,” she growled, prepared to bash the woman’s head in to get away.

Rather than look surprised or amused by her threat, the woman cocked her head. “I’m here to help you.”

“Bullshit.”

“It’s true.” The woman straightened, even that movement lithe, like she was coiled to spring. Marisol gripped the oar tighter. “You’re in deep already. You’re gonna need a hand getting out of this. That’s why I’m here.”

She shook her head, refusing to believe it. Did she look stupid? “You’re here to kill me.”

“No, I’m here to help.”

“Are you working with Miguel?” There was no way around her. The only way to the ladder and her escape was to go through her. She’d only get one good swing in, had to make it count.

“Not exactly.”

The answer made her fear spike higher. “I’m not going to make it easy for you.”

The woman made an impatient sound in her throat. “If
el Santo
had wanted you dead, he’d have killed you already.”

“What?” she demanded. Miguel was
el Santo
? It couldn’t be. She swallowed, tried and failed to suppress a shiver.

The woman nodded, her expression sober. “He warned you with that phone message, and then I warned you with the fake bomb on your car. Look, I know you have no reason to trust me, but if you want to live, you’ve got no choice.”

Marisol tightened her mouth and shook her head. The woman was trying to trick her.

“Call me Julia. And I know your security team was targeted by another one of Fuentes’s lieutenant’s enforcers just over an hour ago.”

The blood rushed in her ears. “How do you know that?”
She’s in on it, that’s how
.

Julia shrugged. “Because that other enforcer was my target. And
el Santo’s
, too. But instead of staying to take him out, Miguel chose to grab you and get you to safety instead.” She cocked an eyebrow. “That’s pretty telling, don’t you think?”

None of this made sense. Her head was pounding, her stomach swirling.
Out. Have to get out.

“Put the oar down, Marisol. We don’t have time for this.” Her voice was even but held a warning edge, signaling she was running out of patience.

Marisol couldn’t back down. She’d fight for her life.

Now or never
. Baring her teeth, she swung the weapon at Julia’s head with all her might.

And hit nothing but air.

She stumbled with the momentum of her swing, found herself dumped on her ass as Julia calmly knocked the oar from her hands and tossed it aside. Marisol rolled to her knees, her heart plummeting at how easily she’d been disarmed, and braced herself for the coming attack.

It didn’t come.

Julia gave her a cool stare. “I’m not going to hurt you. But we can’t stay here. He’s hunting us.”

“Who?” she made herself ask.

“Villa. The other enforcer. He was sent to kill Clancy, you and your boss this morning.”

“Frank,” she whispered.

“He’s alive. He went straight to the police. Which is exactly what you’ve got to do.” She started toward her.

Marisol scrambled back but Julia merely grasped her hand and pulled her to her feet. Once Marisol was standing, the other woman took her by the upper arms and stared into her eyes.

“Listen to me very carefully. I’m going to get you off the boat and out of the marina. There’s a bank on the corner across the street. Go straight there, don’t stop, and go right to the first security agent you see. Stay away from the windows and doors. Call 911 and tell them what happened. You’re the only one who can clear Miguel’s name. Right now they think he’s the one who killed your team and that he’s holding you for ransom. They’re wrong.” Her grip tightened. “You have to tell them the truth. Understand? But right now we’ve got to get you away from this boat before he finds us.”

Not sure if she believed it, Marisol had no choice but to agree if she wanted a shot at getting away. “Okay,” she managed.

Julia nodded once and released her. “I’m going up the steps first. Stay right behind me and don’t make any noise. Follow exactly where I go. Got it?” She pulled a black pistol from the back of her waistband.

Marisol’s eyes widened. But when Julia didn’t point it at her, instead turning to the stairs, she took a hesitant step forward. Was this a trick? A ploy to earn her trust just enough to lure her up to the deck and then kill her? But that made no sense. Way easier to kill her here, and keep her body out of sight.

Swallowing hard, Marisol forced back her fear and followed Julia up the steps. The other woman paused at the top, scanning the deck and whatever lay beyond it.

Julia motioned with her hand to follow and eased out of the hatch. Marisol hurried after her, her bare feet silent on the fiberglass and giving her good traction.

She squinted at the harsh Florida sun beating down on her and followed Julia across the narrow deck toward the dock. She copied the woman’s movements as closely as she could, her heart thudding in her ears. If this wasn’t a trick, was Villa here? Did he have them in his sights right now?

Julia set her hand on the dock, pushed up to make the short jump onto the dock—

Wood exploded inches from where her head had just been.

Marisol instinctively ducked at the same time Julia bit out a curse and leaped back onto the boat, yanking the rope free of the mooring with one quick move. She grabbed Marisol by the arm and wrenched her toward the hatch. “Get down and stay there,” she ordered.

Marisol flattened herself onto her belly and slid inside the hatch as Julia flew past her to the controls. Another round punched through the side of the boat just behind her. She hugged the railing on either side of the steps and hung there, frozen, her heart racing as raw terror washed through her.