Girl Undercover 10 & 11: The Abduction & Dante's Inferno (17 page)

Rushing up to the driver, I banged on the window and showed him my LAPD ID. When he stopped the car and rolled down the window, I told him I needed to talk to Dante, claiming he was a material witness to all that had happened tonight to be absolutely sure he wouldn’t blow me off. He reluctantly agreed to let me get inside the ambulance and opened the back doors. I scurried behind the vehicle. Waving my ID at the paramedics sitting beside Dante, I told them that it was crucial that I spoke to him right away. They immediately let me come aboard.

“But make it quick,” one of the paramedics said as he and the other guy got to their feet, apparently planning to give us privacy by stepping out of the ambulance. “You get two minutes. We need to get him to a hospital.”

“Understood,” I said as I realized that I should have just told them the truth instead of pulling the cop card. But it was too late now; admitting that all I’d wanted was to ride with Dante and provide emotional support during the ambulance ride, nothing else, would probably piss them off. He could use plenty of that after what he’d been through this evening. To keep up appearances, I’d exchange a few words with him, then leave so he could get medical assistance ASAP. I’d have to follow him to the hospital where they’d take him in my own car and we could talk more there.

“Hey,” I said, leaning over him where he lay strapped in and taking his hand. He was a little pale still, but overall didn’t look too bad. Being in the hands of professionals now, he’d be just fine. “How are you feeling?”

“Hey,” he said and smiled weakly. “Much better now that they gave me some pain killers.” He nodded toward the IV attached to his arm. “Unfortunately, that does jack shit for all the mental pain I’m going through at the moment. Not only have I lost three of my trainers, but this’ll be the end of
Cuerpos.
No one’s gonna wanna come and work out here after this has been all over the news. People are gonna wonder why the fuck they chose
my
gym and assume I’m shady. Which I am, a former gangbanger and all. The press will eat that shit up, probably think I’m part of it or somethin’, and then I’m done. I know it sounds selfish, but I can’t help but feel a little sorry for myself.” He sighed heavily, then gave me a crooked grin. “But enough about me. How are you? You okay,
chica?”

I squeezed his hand, having suspected all along that he’d feel this way. ”I’m fine, don’t worry about me. And you’re probably the last person on earth that I’d call selfish. It’s only normal for you to be upset about all this. I know how much
Cuerpos
means to you. It’s your livelihood after all and you have a family to support. But I really don’t think it’ll be the end of your baby. It’ll all turn out for the best. You’ll see.”

Dante just smirked like he didn’t have much faith in my words.

“So I guess you never suspected that Javier was a hybrid, huh?” I asked.

Dante grimaced. “No, because I always knew he was gay. You think the other got away?”

“Tim? Yeah, either that or he drowned ’cause I didn’t see him again after he landed in the ocean. My bet is he got away, though. As far as he could vault himself with such little space to take off, this guy has some serious athletic abilities. He can probably stay under water for a long time. The cops are looking for him as we speak, but they don’t know what they’re dealing with, so I doubt they’ll find him.”

“Right.”

I got to my feet and let go of my friend. “I’m gonna leave so you can get to the hospital now. I thought they were gonna let me ride with you, but that’s not happening. I was only allowed to talk to you for a couple minutes. I’ll come to the hospital later.”

“Will you call Ricki and tell her I’m okay?”

“Of course. As soon as I’m out of here. She must be crazy with worry for you. And I’ll call Jose to check in with him and the others, too. Tell them we’re okay.”

“Sounds good.”

“I’ll see you soon.” Turning around, I jumped out of the ambulance and the first of the two paramedics climbed back inside. I grabbed the arm of the second.

“Thank you for taking such good care of him. Which hospital are you taking him to?”

The paramedic gave me the name of the hospital, then continued into the ambulance and slammed the doors shut. Only seconds later, the vehicle was back on its way out of the parking lot.

Pushing myself through the crowds of cops and media people and others, I found my car that I’d parked next to the highway and got inside it. I spotted a couple of TV crews around the studio that appeared to still be shooting. They must have arrived soon after the mayor announced the hostage situation, not about to miss an opportunity to convey the drama in real time.

I thought about what Dante had said regarding the media suggesting that he might have something to do with the hostage situation, potentially having staged it despite being shot. Sadly, I had to agree that he had real reason to fear for the reputation of himself and his life’s achievement,
Cuerpos.
I hadn’t wanted to admit it at the time, though. It wouldn’t take long until LAPD investigators figured out that Dante used to be a member of a vicious street gang. After that, it was only a matter of time until an ambitious reporter found out and wrote about it. There were plenty of shady cops who didn’t mind making a few extra bucks by leaking information about an ongoing investigation to the press.

I sighed, feeling terrible for Dante’s sake, but there wasn’t much I could do about that right now. I had other, more pressing issues to worry about, unfortunately. Like what was going on with my
own
hostages. Again, I reflected over the absolute irony of managing to be a hostage taker and a hostage myself within the scope of twenty-four hours. I didn’t think many others could boast a similar feat.

It suddenly struck me that Dante might not be the only one to have reason to worry about the press. What if the story reached Jonah’s ears and footage of me was used in TV news reports? Or photos in newspaper articles. It was a big and juicy enough story that national media would cover it. They might mention that LAPD Detective Gabi Longoria had been part of the hostages and show pictures of me. There had been photographers and camera men all over the place, snapping photos and shooting. Jonah or any of his friends who saw me would recognize me in an instant.

How would I explain
that?

Chapter 6

I jumped into my Toyota, turning the troubling matter over in my mind as I ignited the engine and pulled out from the roadside. Merging with the traffic, I told myself that I was exaggerating the situation. The chance that a paper or news show would run an image of me in which they also identified me was minuscule—it wasn’t like I was a celebrity like Lindsey Dash and Morgan Stanley exactly. If I was featured for some odd reason, I doubted that Jonah and his friends would pay much attention to it. And if they did, I’d just bluntly deny that it was me, just a woman who looked similar to me. The more I thought about it, the less I worried that it would become an issue.

I found my burner that I’d thrown on the front passenger seat and used it to call Ricki first. She picked up instantly.

“Hello?” Her voice sounded frail.

“Ricki, it’s me, Gabi,” I said, holding the phone with one hand while maneuvering through all the vehicles on the road with my other. The hostage situation had attracted tons of people.

“Oh, Gabi, I saw everything on TV! Is Dante okay? Please tell me he’s okay!”

“Yes, he’s okay. He wasn’t as badly hurt as we thought. Only a flesh wound in his leg. He’s on his way to Marina Del Rey Hospital. He’ll be all right.”

“Oh, thank
God.”
She let out a breath of relief. “Thank God… My mom’s on her way to our house. She can watch Enrique while I head over to the hospital to see him.”

“I don’t think you’ll be able to talk to him much tonight. He’s on heavy painkillers. By the time you’ll get there, he’ll be passed out.”
Or in surgery,
I was about to add before cutting myself short. There was no need to worry Ricki without cause; I had no idea whether surgery would be necessary for his leg in the first place. If she was going over there, she’d find out soon enough anyway.

“I just want to see him,” she said. “Be with him, even if he can’t talk. I was so scared that I’d lose him forever. Now that I know that I haven’t, I can’t wait to be with him again.” I could tell that she was smiling big, she was so contented.

“I can totally understand that.”

“How are you doing?” she asked.

“I’m fine. I just wanted to call you to tell you that everything’s okay and where Dante is. By the way, you’re gonna have to get a new phone. The kidnappers confiscated yours when I got there. Sorry.”

“Oh. Okay. No problem. I’ll just get a new one. Where are you going now? Wanna come over to our house and chill until my mom comes? It’ll take an hour at least before she gets here. You could use a glass of wine after a debacle like that. We could go to the hospital together afterward.”

I could definitely use a glass or two, maybe even an entire bottle of wine, to relax after the crazy day that I’d been through. Unfortunately, as much as I wanted to drive to her house and then go to the hospital with her, there was no time for any of that. It was best I headed downtown and checked on the doctors. Made sure our guards didn’t need anything. Better yet, relieved them despite being beat.

“I’d love that,” I said, “but I need to take care of a couple of things first. I’ll come to the hospital as soon as I can after that, I promise.”

“Okay. Thanks for the call. I was really going crazy with worry here.” There was a brief pause, then Ricki added in a graver tone, “Take care of yourself, Gabi. Be careful. I know you’re up to something.”

I couldn’t help but smile a little; Ricki might be a busybody, but she was also someone who could see through people immediately. And who truly cared about your well-being.

“I will,” I said and disconnected after adding a quick “see you soon.” Next I dialed Jose’s number. He also picked up almost as soon as I’d placed the call.

“Digame,”
he said. Most of Jose’s acquaintances were of Spanish descent.

“Jose, it’s me, Gabi,” I replied in Spanish. As soon as he’d assured me that everything was under control with our captives, I proceeded to update him on the latest, which took a good ten minutes during which I didn’t get very far because of all the traffic.

“You’re absolutely sure they’re not up to anything?” I asked.

“Relax, Gabi, they’re cool,” Jose said again. “Sergei says they’re just chillin’ in front of the TV. He just ordered them a huge steak dinner and some wine. At their request. He knows what he’s doin’”

“Okay, good to hear. We want to treat these two well. Best way to gain their trust. I’m on my way over there to relieve the guards. They could use a break having been there all day.”

Jose sucked in a breath. “You crazy,
nena?
After what you and Dante have been through, you need a break yourself. Go home and get some sleep, then go back there tomorrow when your head’s fresh. My buddy and I will go and relieve Sergei and Sammy.”

But I didn’t want to go home and sleep. Checking the time, I saw that it was only nine thirty; not very late at all. I still had some juice left in me. I wanted to use that to work the two doctors some more. If they were well fed and relaxed, just watching TV, it seemed like a good time to get them talking. Gazing out the windshield, I tried to gauge how much time it would take before I could get downtown. Even though I had finally exited Malibu and entered Santa Monica, traffic remained bad; it seemed news had traveled exceptionally fast and everyone and their mother had wanted to get a glimpse of the hostage situation while it was still going on.

“You guys can come, but I’ll be there, too,” I told Jose. “See you there.”

Moments after disconnecting, I caught a glimpse of myself in the rearview mirror, and let out a small yelp. There were the beginnings of bags, not to mention smeared mascara, under my eyes and my hair was a big, frizzy mess. Since the traffic was moving so slowly, I had plenty of opportunity to give myself a sniff under my arms without risking to have a car accident.

Yuck.
I needed a shower and a fresh set of clothes before I went to see the doctors again. But driving to the W hotel in Westwood and getting myself fixed up before heading downtown would take another hour if this traffic didn’t let up. At least. Which meant that I probably wouldn’t be down at the apartment until shortly before midnight. By then the doctors might have passed out from too much wine and steak, and my own energy levels were likely to have subsided.

I sighed and thought that maybe I should heed Jose’s advice and just go to bed after all.
I’ll see how I feel when I get to the hotel,
I thought. Either way, Jose and his buddy would go down there, so I didn’t have to make up my mind right this second.

As I reached the Santa Monica freeway, I thought about the fact that both Ricki and I had called for assistance as I had been on my way to help Dante, and how none had gotten there. I had called my division and notified the operator
twice,
telling her to broadcast the emergency to all responding officers
.
I scowled. Why the hell had it taken such a long time before help arrived? Actually, now that I thought about it some more, help hadn’t arrived until the conversation with the mayor of Malibu was well under way and the kidnappers themselves had called the cops. In other words, it seemed my requests, as well as Ricki’s call to 911, had gone ignored.

How was that possible?

I supposed that if I was the only one making the calls to my division, the explanation could be as simple as the operator there being useless—I hadn’t recognized her—but what about Ricki’s call to 911? This couldn’t be a matter of
two
bad operators. Coincidences like that just didn’t happen. Then what the hell was going on?

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the burner phone that I had thrown on the passenger seat beside me. I remembered then that Ricki and I had both used her phone. If someone tracked the three calls, it could easily be translated into the same person having made all of them. The same person as in me.