Targeted

“They have my daughter,” the other man whispered.

Jack paused, mentally reviewing the dossier he had on Weller’s family. It said his daughter was backpacking through Europe with friends. “How long?”

Beads of sweat rolled down his face. “Six months. So far they say they haven’t harmed her, but they threatened to kill her if I didn’t help with some of their deliveries.”

“Who are they working with in Africa?” Jack had already asked, but he still wasn’t convinced Ronald was telling the truth.

“I wasn’t lying when I said I didn’t know. All I’m in charge of is providing a cover to get into places they normally couldn’t.”

“What about Keane Flight?”

“Paul is—was, I guess—in charge of doctoring flight logs and in some cases he deleted trips entirely. We coordinated our stories and I updated everything here.”

Okay, that lined up with what Keane had told Wesley. “When’s your next meeting with Vargas?”

“This weekend. Maybe sooner. He’s promised I’ll have my daughter back.”

This was why people should call in professionals when they were in trouble. “Did you call any law enforcement about this?”

Weller snorted. “No. Who could I have called? The local cops? The feds? She was taken in another country. They have no jurisdiction there, and law enforcement in most South American countries are too scared of Vargas. And . . .” He swallowed hard, fear bleeding into his eyes.

“What?” Jack pressed the gun harder against his knee.

“As soon as Vargas contacted me, he also sent me the bloody ear of someone. Told me it belonged to the son of someone who’d tried to go behind his back and involve cops. He said if I wanted my daughter back in one piece I’d follow his instructions or I’d start receiving boxes of her . . . body parts.” His voice cracked on the last word.

“When’s the last time you talked to him?” Jack asked, his voice monotone. He needed this guy to keep his cool.

“This morning.”

“When’s the last time you talked to your daughter?”

His shoulders slumped. “Couple days ago.”

Jack sheathed his weapon in his shoulder holster and went back to sit across from Ronald. “You realize that once you give him what he wants, he will kill your daughter?”

Ronald shook his head. “He promised that—”

“He’s a drug lord, Ronald. And he’s helping a terrorist faction in North Africa bring biological weapons into this country. Do you really think he’ll keep his word?” Fucking moron.

Ronald’s mouth dropped open. “I thought he was just running drugs.”

Could he really be that naive? Or maybe he’d just wanted to hold on to hope for his daughter’s sake. Once a person gave up the last shred of hope, it was over. Jack scrubbed a hand over his face. People never ceased to amaze him. “You have one thing going for you.”

“What?”

“You said you’re meeting him in days, so if Miguel is coming to Miami, something big is going down. Next time you talk to him, demand to talk to your daughter and don’t take no for an answer. You need to make sure he’s bringing her with him.”

“But what if—”

“You have something he wants. Even if he threatens your daughter, tell him you need proof. If he doesn’t comply, hang up on him. You’ll push him into a corner and get him off balance.”

He shook his head almost violently. “I can’t do that. He’s been letting me talk to her at regular times. I can’t—”

“If you value your daughter’s life you will. Trust me when I say I’ve done this before. If you don’t start negotiating with him, he’ll push and push until he knows you’ll agree to just about anything.” It was how predators like Vargas worked.

Jack stood as Sophie entered the room carrying twine.

“What are you going to do now?” Worry and a heavy dose of fear laced Ronald’s voice.

Jack pointed to Mandy’s unmoving form. “Get rid of one of your problems.”

“Are you going to . . . ,” Ronald started, but didn’t finish.

“No, I’m not going to kill her. She’ll be picked up by the people I work for.” And they very well might kill her, but that wasn’t Jack’s problem. Considering that the woman was the reason Sophie had almost been killed, he didn’t care if she died.

Ronald stood. “If she’s working for him, Vargas will know something’s wrong. You can’t—”

“Sit down and calm down. He’s going to think she skipped town. If Vargas asks about Mandy—which I doubt he will because he’ll be admitting she was a mole in your company—you tell him you haven’t seen her.”

“What do you want me to do now?”

“Nothing. Go home to your wife and act like this conversation never happened. I’ll be in contact tomorrow.” Jack turned to Sophie. “Did you see anyone in the hall?”

She shook her head, but he didn’t miss the hurt look she shot Weller before returning her attention to him.

Jack gritted his teeth. He understood that the man was trying to save his daughter, but he’d been willing to sacrifice Sophie. The pain in her dark eyes as she watched him lift Mandy off the floor tore at his insides like razor wire.

Jack understood how she felt and more than anything, he wanted to wipe that lost look off her face and hurt the person who had put it there. He wanted it so badly he had to contain the sudden, very real urge to clock Weller across the face. It wouldn’t do any good other than make him feel better, and Sophie didn’t need any more violence in her life.

•   •   •

Hannah couldn’t fight the terror forking through her system. The man with the scar hadn’t cuffed or tied her hands. Maybe that was a good thing. Or maybe their security was so tight, he wasn’t worried about her trying to escape.

Garish yellow lights illuminated their way, creating creepy shadows. There weren’t any guards along the hallway, and the three other holding cells were empty. Though she did notice a dark reddish stain on the floor of one. When they came to a steel door with bars covering the small window, the man next to her pulled out keys.

When he opened the door, she was surprised to step out into a garden of sorts. “Where are we?” she asked, even though she knew it would likely be pointless.

No answer.

The ocean was nearby. She couldn’t hear waves, but the salty smell was unmistakable. Maybe Holly was right. Maybe they were in Cuba. The air was humid, but it wasn’t too hot, which meant maybe they were in one of the Caribbean islands. Or maybe they were still in Florida. She drank in her surroundings as they walked across a grassy incline toward the back of a palatial house. Her breath caught when she saw two armed men standing in the shadows near a giant oak tree.

Okay, then. They were definitely not alone. That was why the scarred man hadn’t bothered to bind her wrists. If she ran, she’d be shot. No wonder Holly hadn’t tried to escape.

As they neared the house she spotted a familiar-looking man sitting on the brightly lit veranda. Miguel Vargas. The name had sounded familiar earlier, but now that she was in front of him she remembered seeing him on the news.

The man next to her roughly grabbed her arm and pushed her onto a cushioned seat across from Vargas. Her skin briefly stung from the treatment.

“Thank you for joining me,” Vargas said. His voice was surprisingly smooth and calm and almost charming.

“Did I have a choice?” She inwardly chided herself for the automatic smart-ass answer. Her mother was