Abducted Page 3

  God wasn’t some fairy-tale father who granted wishes. He created humans and left them to drown in their own misery, which wasn’t any better than Jett’s worthless earthly parent, currently serving time in prison. How could a smart girl like Sarah not see that for herself? He felt her gaze on him, and he looked away.

  As Young’s eyelids fluttered open again, he moaned, whispering something.

  She bent closer to hear, her dark blond hair brushing the table. Young grasped her wrist, his mouth moving sporadically before he got the words out. “You’re a detective?” he croaked.

  “I’ve got a detective license,” she said. “But don’t worry. Right now, I’m your nurse. You’re going to get some fluids, which will help you feel more comfortable, and we’ll get you to a proper hospital.”

  “You’ve got to go find her,” he murmured.

  She shot Jett a look, and he moved closer. “What did you say, Mr. Young?”

  He squeezed her wrist as a spasm of pain crossed his face and he struggled to sit up against Sarah’s restraining hands.

  “Find who?” Jett said.

  Young’s eyes suddenly rolled back in his head, and he collapsed back on the table.

  Sarah checked his pulse and breathing. “He’s hanging on by a thread. If we don’t get him to a doctor soon, he’s not going to make it.” She pushed the sweat-soaked hair from his face and fanned him with a notepad from her bag. “What do you think he means by ‘go find her’?”

  Jett shrugged. “You’re the detective. Your family’s making quite a name for themselves in the investigation business.”

  “Marco’s been filling you in?”

  “He told me your sister recently cracked a case in Cobalt Cove.”

  She smiled. “How sweet that you stay up-to-date on Gallagher family business.”

  “I don’t,” he said, more severely than he’d meant to. “But seeing as how you and your sisters run an investigation firm, do your thing. Solve this guy’s mystery.”

  “How am I supposed to do that under the present circumstances?”

  “Don’t look at me—I’m just a diver. But it sounds like you just got yourself a case, Detective.”

  * * *

  Jett was clearly mocking her, so she ignored the remark. “Mr. Young? Can you hear me?” But he was unconscious. Go find whom? Was whoever he was looking for the reason he’d been beaten? The cause of Beretta’s relentless attention?

  There was no sense in talking it over with Jett. He’d gone to the back window to wrench loose one of the boards, allowing a breeze to waft in. Delicious, she thought, lifting the hair off her neck and tying it into a ponytail with a piece of gauze. If she’d had a moment more to pack, she’d have been much better prepared, but as it was, she’d only tossed in basic medical supplies, her passport and one granola bar. At the bottom of the bag were two precious bottles of water. Thirst clawed at her. As much as she wanted to rip off the cap and guzzle some of the water, she was uncertain about their upcoming journey and she thought it best to save it. Maybe she should offer a bottle to Jett.

  He’d stepped out into the back, which was nothing more than a scruff of weed-covered ground, dry and parched. He knelt to play with the one-eared dog who was so skinny she could see his ribs. Jett stroked his big hands tenderly over the dog’s delicate frame. Those same hands had caressed her face with a featherlight touch.

  She was transported back in time to their first date, a trip to the ice cream parlor and a walk on the beach. He’d found a shell for her in the sand, a delicate white scallop tinged with the fiery glow of a sunrise on the inside. Shyly, he’d offered it to her.

  It’s perfect, he’d said. Like you.

  She remembered his arms embracing her, a bittersweet reminder. So much anger and so much heart wrapped up in one maddening man, she thought.

  “Here,” she said, handing him a bottle of water.

  “Thanks.” He twisted the cap and poured a small amount into his hand. The dog lapped it up eagerly. Jett lifted the bottle to his lips, eyeing her before he put it to his mouth. “Hang on. Did you get some?”

  “I’m okay.”

  He shook his head and handed it back to her. “You drink half.”

  “I don’t need any.”

  “Fine. Then I don’t, either.”

  She folded her arms. “You’re a patient. Patients before nurses.”

  “You’re a woman,” he snapped. “Women before men.”

  He folded his arms to match hers, and she knew he wasn’t going to give in. “You’re infuriating, you know that?” she said, snatching the bottle.

  “Funny how many people tell me that.”

  She gulped, restraining herself from downing it all. Even though it was warm, the water tasted delectable. Then she handed it to him, and he drained the rest. They stood in the yard, trying to find some relief from the stifling heat, until Juanita called from inside. She’d returned with a bag of savory-smelling food and a clay jug. Sarah’s mouth watered.

  “My cousin makes excellent chilaquiles. There is no meat today, but it is still good, I think.”

  “It smells divine,” Sarah said.

  She handed them plastic forks, metal plates covered with foil and two paper cups, which she filled with water. Jett raised his to his mouth, drinking it in two swallows.

  Sarah set the plate aside and folded her hands to pray. Juanita did the same. Jett, she noticed, stepped away, arms crossed over his broad chest, until they were done.

  Under the foil were quarters of fried corn tortilla covered with a green salsa and topped with slices of raw onion. A humble dish, generously shared by people who had little to give. There could be no greater blessing than that, Sarah thought.

  There was a period of quiet while they devoured the luscious meal and drained the jug to the dregs. Jett offered one of his tortillas to the dog, who happily gobbled it up.

  “Did you get word to your father?” Sarah said.

  Juanita frowned. “Yes. He will meet us here.”

  “How will he avoid Beretta’s men?” Jett said. “They’re probably swarming the town right about now.”

  “He will be all right,” she said, turning away to gather up the remnants of the meal. Sarah helped her wipe out the dishes as best they could and pack them up to be returned to Juanita’s cousin.

  “You have been very kind, Juanita,” Sarah said. “I know this is going above and beyond. You’ve been so brave.”

  Juanita turned to face her. “No,” she said, voice cracking. “I haven’t. Oh, please forgive me, Sarah.”

  The stricken look on her face started alarm bells ringing in Sarah’s brain. “Forgive you for what?”

  Her lips trembled. “I...”

  Jett drew close. “What did you do?”

  The door swung open. On the threshold stood the men from the clinic, dark haired, sweating through their T-shirts, two holding bats.

  The taller one smiled and turned to his partner as he looked at Young.

  “Good thing for you he’s still alive. I told you not to hit him on the head—you might have killed him.” Then he jutted his chin in Juanita’s direction. “Go. Your father is safe. He will be released now that you have done your part.”

  Sarah looked at Juanita in horror.

  “You sold us out?” Jett said.

  “I’m sorry.” Tears sprang up in her eyes, and she wrung her hands. “My father called my cell phone while I was waiting in the truck. They will kill him if I do not do as they ask. I could not sacrifice his life for yours.”

  Jett shook his head in disgust, but Sarah gripped Juanita’s hand. “You didn’t have a choice.”

  “Forgive me,” Juanita murmured.

  Sarah nodded. “You did what you had to do. It’s okay.”

  �
��Go,” said one of the men to Juanita. “And speak to no one of this.” She hurried out, a hand pressed to her mouth, stifling her sobs.

  The taller man bobbed a chin at Young. “It is fortunate for us that we did not kill him before. Senor Beretta would be most unhappy. Thank you, Senorita Gallagher, for keeping him alive.”

  She stuck up her chin and glared at him. “He needs a hospital.”

  “He will get plenty of medical attention until his usefulness is over. As for you two...” He shook his head. “You were clever to escape the clinic.”

  Jett smiled. “And you were stupid to fall for it.”

  The taller man lashed out so quickly Sarah almost didn’t see it. His bat connected with Jett’s stomach, sending him sprawling backward.

  She screamed and dropped to her knees next to him.

  “Home-run hit, Miguel,” the leader said.

  Jett sucked in a breath and groaned. She pressed her hands to his broad chest. “Please don’t antagonize him,” she whispered. “Please.”

  Jett quirked a grin. “I’m just getting warmed up.”

  She helped him to his feet, determined to take action before Jett could say another word.

  “Listen to me.” She kept her voice calm, businesslike. “If Mr. Young is important to Senor Beretta, then he would want you to help get him to the hospital. We can get to the airport, fly him to Puerto Rosado. He needs a brain scan.”

  The man considered. “That is not for us to decide. We’re taking him, and we no longer need your assistance.”

  Jett stepped forward, one hand clutched to his stomach. “Let her go,” he grunted. “She’s well-loved here in the village. You don’t want to mess with her or there may be trouble. Release her, and she won’t tell anyone about you.”

  Sarah could only gape. Since when was Jett her spokesman?

  “I don’t think so,” the tall man said.

  “You’re making a mistake,” Jett snapped.

  This made both men laugh heartily. “Our only mistake was not bashing your brains in earlier.”

  Jett didn’t flinch, but Sarah’s whole body prickled in fear.

  The man with the bat shifted. “So what are we going to do with them?”

  “Kill them,” the leader said with a smile. “Kill them both.”

  FOUR

  The terrible command hung in the heated air.

  Sarah’s face went pale as sea foam, and she clenched her hands into fists.

  Jett stared down the men. If they expected him to be intimidated, they would be disappointed. He shook his head with an exaggerated sigh. “I see intelligence doesn’t rank high on the list of Senor Beretta’s job requirements.”

  Miguel started forward again with the bat. “We should kill him now, Alex. Enough talk. Beat him until he begs for mercy.”

  Jett felt Sarah’s hand clutching the back of his shirt.

  It doesn’t matter what they do to me, he wanted to tell her. No one is ever going to see me beg. He’d seen enough of that in his mother, and it left a vile taste in his mouth. Her pleading for his father to stop, to quit drinking, to stop the beatings, to leave off the behavior that turned their home into a war zone. None of her begging had made the slightest difference.

  He refocused, ignoring the burning in his stomach from the bat blow. Sarah was the important one right now. Marco had charged him with her safety, so it was time to bluff. Big-time. “Young is on death’s door, in case you haven’t noticed. If you serve up a fresh corpse to your boss, he’s not going to take that well, is he?”

  “The coward’s just talking to try to save himself.” Miguel spat on the floor.

  “A little testy, Miguel? Upset that I gave you that black eye earlier today? You shouldn’t drop your left hand. I was trained by a navy boxing champion, so I’m afraid I had a big advantage.” Marco had earned that championship honestly. The guy was a genius in the ring. He’d taught Jett plenty about fighting and life. Besides, it was a pleasure to rub salt in Miguel’s wounded pride, even though he could feel the dread rolling off Sarah at his goading.

  Miguel glowered. “I will crush your skull.”

  “Try,” Jett said. “It will be a moment you’ll never forget.” Big talk, since Jett’s head was pounding from the earlier fight and the bat strike had left him unable to draw a full breath. Still, there was enough anger burning through him that would fuel his muscles into delivering what his mouth had promised.

  Miguel’s face pinched with rage. “You will die slowly, American.”

  “And you will eat those words,” Jett said, enunciating each and every syllable so there was no mistake. They were six inches from each other now. He could read the hatred simmering in Miguel’s eyes. He hoped Miguel could see the same in his.

  Alex held up a hand. “Un momento. Let me hear what this arrogant American says before we finish this.”

  Sarah sucked in a breath, and Miguel grudgingly eased back a pace.

  “Young is going to die without Sarah’s help—it’s that simple,” Jett said.

  Alex shrugged. “We will get him medical assistance.”

  “Yeah? Where?”

  “We do have hospitals here in our country, in case you were not aware.” Alex’s tone dripped with sarcasm.

  “I am aware, and the closest one with an MRI machine is Puerto Rosado. There will be a lot of people there asking questions, forms to fill out, the victim being an American and all.” Jett was guessing about Young’s citizenship, but he saw in Alex’s face that he’d hit the mark.

  “The village doctor,” the third man said. “We will make him do the treatments.”

  “He can’t help,” Sarah chimed in. “Young needs a brain scan. We don’t have the equipment here to do that.”

  Jett saw Alex thinking it over. He made a show of looking at Young, who groaned softly. “Sounds pretty bad. He might even die before you get him to your truck, unless Sarah keeps up with the IVs and monitors his heart.”

  “I can’t do it myself,” she said quickly. “I need an assistant, since you sent Juanita away.”

  Alex waved at Miguel and his other companion. “We are not lacking for manpower.”

  “Jett’s had navy medical training,” Sarah cut in. “He knows what to do if Mr. Young has a seizure or goes into cardiac arrest, and he can administer an IV if necessary.”

  That much was true, but was it enough to convince Alex? The seconds ticked by in agonizing slow motion. Jett clenched his teeth. They had to let Sarah go with Young. It was the only way to keep her alive, at least until another escape avenue could present itself. He burned to go with her—she was too naive, too delicate to survive with these criminals—but if it was a choice between the two of them, he wanted her to live. The ferocity of his emotions surprised him, but then, he’d always longed for justice that never seemed to materialize. And Sarah—oh, how he’d longed for her.

  It was not right for Sarah Gallagher to die here. She was good, and she deserved a happy life. She’d certainly deserved better than a rebel like him. She’d been smart to cut him loose during their senior year in high school, though he’d never admit it. Nor would he confess how the pain of that breakup hurt worse than any physical wound he’d ever experienced.

  I love you, Jett, but you’re destroying yourself, and I just can’t bear to watch.

  He shut down the feelings. Just a mission. He owed Marco, and Marco loved Sarah like a sister. Get the job done and get her home safely. That was all.

  Young began to cough violently at that moment, and Sarah hastened over. “Jett, help me roll him.”

  She could have performed the action fine by herself, but in order to make it look convincing, he eased Young onto his side, and the coughing turned to heavy gasps. Sarah looked helplessly at Alex. “His health is failing. Can’t you see that?�
��

  Alex considered. “It’s a three-hour ride by truck from here to our destination.”

  Which is...? Jett wondered. Where did this Beretta station himself? Not in a poor village like Playa del Oro, certainly. Somewhere isolated enough to give the criminal his privacy and accommodations worthy of his drug lord status. “Has Beretta got a little compound in the mountains?” Jett guessed. No reaction from the goons. “Going to be rough terrain, huh? Did you guys get hold of an ambulance so we can get Young there without worsening his head injury? Or were you planning to throw a gravely injured man in the back of a truck and hope he survives?”

  Again, no reaction except for a slight shifting from the third guy.

  “Uh-huh, that’s what I thought.”

  Alex came to a decision. “We will keep the nurse alive until we reach Senor Beretta.”

  “And the man?” Miguel said. “Surely we can help the nurse if she needs it. It is too dangerous to let him live.”

  Jett stared them down full-on. If they were expecting fear as they pronounced his sentence, they wouldn’t get it.

  There was a long pause. Sarah blanched, hazel eyes like gemstones, startling against her pale skin. Jett continued to assess. If they decided to kill him, he would take down as many as he could until he fell. It might give Sarah a chance to run, hide somewhere.

  Alex considered, eyes shifting from Sarah to Jett. “Act in haste, repent in leisure. Isn’t that the saying? Bind his hands and feet after they load Young into the truck. We’ll take all three with us.”

  “But...” Miguel said.

  Alex smiled. “I did not say you had to treat him gently, Miguel. Take some comfort in that, just don’t disable him completely. Now!” Alex snapped. “You two carry Young to the truck, quickly. We do not wish to attract any more attention than we already have.”