Dead Running (26 page)

His skin faded as if somebody had poured bleach on him, but he ignored the words I already regretted and started lecturing, “If anything looks suspicious, you’re going to have to get in. You don’t pause. You jump in the car. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Dad. Jump. No questions.” I tried to sound sweet so both of us could forget about my previous words. “Follow me.”

I headed west, through the fields and dairy farms. I remembered to eat often. The only downside of the run was the smell of manure and the guilt of knowing my dad was idling slowly behind me. I should’ve made him his favorite oatmeal chocolate chip cookies to go with the cocoa.

Even though I acted like I felt safe, I kept searching the road in front and behind for a van. Thankfully, the only vehicles we saw were tractors and an occasional Idaho truckbig wheels, fancy rims, and stinky diesel. A few groups of bikers passed us, but no Muscle Man or Greasy Beanpole.

I was headed back south from Trenton when I heard two bikers talking behind me. It always cracked me up that bikers didn’t realize how their voices carried.

“Isn’t she the one?”

My back stiffened. My ears opened wider.

“Yes, it’s definitely her.”

They were almost upon me. I flipped around to face them head on and beckoned to my dad. He was fifty feet behind them. The bikers were in front of him and approaching fast with huge grins aimed my direction.

“Hello there,” the one started.

The howl of the Avalon’s wheels cut off whatever the guy was trying to say. My dad squealed around the two men, jamming his car between their bikes and me. He flung open the passenger door and screamed, “Get in.”

The men swerved, barely missing the car. They continued down the road. The first speaker turned and stared at us like we were insane. “I’ve heard of over-protective fathers, but sheesh.”

The other one chuckled. Within seconds they were gone.

I squatted next to the open door, breathing heavily. “Sorry. They were talking about me. I remembered that you said other men might be assigned to come after us . . . Sorry.” I was such a freak-out.

My dad wiped a hand over his face. “Don’t worry.” He forced a smile. “It woke me up.”

“Me too.”

“Do you want to get in?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Nah. I’ve still got about six miles to go.”

He shooed me with his hand. “I’ll stay closer.”

I nodded my thanks and started running again. My adrenaline pumped from the scare. I wondered if there would ever come a day that I’d react normally.

As we pulled back into Smithfield’s city limits, Dad idled alongside me. “You have such a great stride, Cassie. I can’t believe how fast you ran that twenty miles.”

I grinned, wiping at the sweat on my forehead. “Thanks, Dad. You should’ve seen how pathetic I was a few months ago.”

“You’re anything but pathetic now.”

I slowed to a walk for the last couple of blocks. It was almost more painful to walk then run at this point. We finally reached the house.

“Dad, do you think Muscle Man gave up?” I asked through his car window.

Dad’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel. He gestured. “Can you sit with me a minute?”

I needed to stretch my legs but an opportunity to talk with my dad wasn’t something I wanted to miss. I climbed into the car, wincing as I sat down.

“I’m afraid they’ll never give up. They know where I am now. They know the FBI and police are watching for them. They may just be giving us a few weeks reprieve before they hit.” He shook his head. “It’s something Ramirez loves to do. Toy with his victims before he barbecues them.”

“Barbecues them?” I shuddered. The sweat on my back cooled to freezing.

Dad exhaled slowly. “It’s just an expression he likes to use.”

“This Ramirez guy is the slave trader?”

“Yes.”

“He’s in Mexico?”

“We believe he’s based in Acapulco, but he imports slaves throughout South America. Mexico is where they transfer and distribute.” Bitterness was so strong in my dad’s voice and face I almost didn’t recognize him.

I swallowed, brushing at the sweat on my forehead. “He just steals children and sells them?”

“Sometimes. Or they trick the children into going with them. There’s a huge profit to be made in the sex industry in Mexico through the Internet and the vacation towns. The children who aren’t as desirable get sold for labor. They also smuggle them into America.”

“What?” My stomach soured and not from all the Gu’s I’d eaten. “They seriously smuggle them into America?”

“Beautiful Hispanic girls do well in New Orleans’ brothels,” his scowl lines deepened, “and everywhere else for that matter.”

I rubbed my arms for warmth. “And you’ve been able to stop them from being taken?”

Dad focused on the dashboard. “Prevention is nearly impossible, especially the victims imported from South America. We concentrate on retrieval.” Dad smiled to himself. “We have sources that tell us when a shipment has been made or a village has been hit. We find the traffickers before they get too far. Sham and I work well together.”

“How do you free the slaves?”

He shrugged. “Depends on the situation, sometimes we’re able to free them without bloodshed, sometimes not.”

“B-but?” My heart thudded against my chest. “You kill the slavers?”

“Sometimes. They deserve a lot worse. If you knew the things they do . . . If we don’t take care of them.” He shook his head. “The government’s corrupt. We used to turn the slavers over to them, but they’d release them within weeks. Sham and I stopped using the legal system years ago.” He smiled again. “But we’re a great addition to the anti-trafficking programs we work with, they just don’t ask anymore how we retrieve the victims.”
 

He didn’t expound and honestly, I didn’t want to ask. Slavery? Killing? I was so naïve. I thought my parents went to Mexico to use Mom’s teaching degree and Dad’s doctoring skills. My face flamed red. How selfish I must seem to my dad. Living in the land of the free and complaining because he’d been gone from me. I suddenly understood how my mom could sacrifice her life for such a cause.

“I want to help,” I said.

Dad’s head rotated so quickly he probably gave himself whiplash. “No, Cassidy. It’s too dangerous.”

“Stop protecting me.” I wrapped my hand around his arm, begging with my eyes. “I’m not a little girl anymore. I could do a lot of good with all the money you left for me.”

“I don’t mind you donating some money, but I don’t want you anywhere near the traffickers.” He took a deep breath. “I still haven’t forgiven myself for letting your mom get involved. But I could never tell that woman no.” He blinked quickly then smiled at me. “You’re more like her than you know.”

Now I was the one blinking. I released his arm and hugged him awkwardly over the console. This obviously wasn’t the time to fight him for the right to help in his cause, but someday soon I’d figure out a way to get involved.

“You’re amazing, Cassie. I’m proud of you.”

My throat felt thick. “I’m proud of you too, Dad."

He pulled back and looked at me. “What for?”

“For saving the world.”

The wrinkles around his mouth and eyes deepened. I’d never thought my dad could age, but the past few years had obviously been hard. “One child at a time.”

I let that linger as long as I could handle before I cleared my throat. “Tell me about the children.”

A genuine smile crossed his face. “They’re adorable.” Then his eyes clouded. “The ones that the slavers haven’t . . . damaged too much are so loving and grateful.”

I nodded. He was still protecting me, not wanting me to know about the damage the slavers were inflicting. “I’d love to help the children,” I said. “To even think of someone hurting Tate . . .” My voice trailed off as we both shuddered.

“I understand you want to help but I really can’t stand the thought of you being anywhere near danger.”

I didn’t point out how much danger I’d been in right here in safe little Cache Valley. A plan started formulating in my mind of how I would help. “Are you coming in?” I changed the subject to ease my dad’s worry lines. “I’m sure Nana will have breakfast ready.”

“I wish. Nana is at the store.” He pointed at a dark blue sedan parked a few houses over. “That’s my replacement. They’ll watch over you. I’m going to a hotel to get some sleep.”

“I don’t understand why you can’t stay here with us.”

He shrugged. “Not sure I do, either, but it’s what the FBI is suggesting right now. I think they want to spread the bait around.” He frowned. “Sorry. Not that you’re bait.”

I shivered again. “Glad to be so appealing.”

Dad reached over me and unlatched the car door. “You’d better get inside. Don’t worry. The house is clean. We haven’t seen anything from Ramirez’s men for the past two weeks and the FBI does a good job with surveillance. We’ll be okay.”

I nodded, though I didn’t believe him. Muscle Man was out there, biding his time. “Thanks for going with me, Dad. I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

I climbed gingerly out of the car and up the porch steps. Nana really wasn’t home. Surprising. First time in a while Nana hadn’t been around to try and shove a huge breakfast down my throat. I whipped up a protein shake with powder, peanut butter, and bananas, grabbed a bag of crushed ice from the freezer, and shuffled to the bathroom. I filled my tub with ice and cold water, painstakingly removing my shoes and socks. There was no way I could undress completely so I eased into the tub in my running clothes. “Holy crap,” I screamed.

The cold water bit at my skin. I forced myself to settle into the water until it covered the band of my running shorts.

Loud footsteps pounded up the stairs. Nana appeared at the open bathroom door, took one look at me, and sighed. “What are you doing now?”

“I-i-ice bath,” I stuttered out.
Glad to see you too
.

“Why on earth would you sit in a tub of ice water fully clothed?”

“Too-too sore to take my clothes off. The i-ice,” my teeth chattered, “will keep the swelling down.”

Nana rolled her eyes. “Well, don’t give yourself hypothermia.”

She turned and strode down the hallway. I sipped my shake for a few minutes, staring dully at the ice floating in my bathtub. Within minutes, my body rolled with shivers. I forced myself not to think about how cold I was, pretending I was floating in the warm waters of Lake Powell.

I relaxed my head against the marble that framed the tub and closed my eyes. The ice really was helping. My legs and knees no longer hurt. After a few more minutes, the water seemed to be warming up. My shivering reached a controllable level then almost disappeared.

Jesse’s face appeared in my head. Why couldn’t I just forget about him? The man had too much nerve. Kissing me while giving me every excuse in the book not to date me.

“You have to let me see her,” Damon’s voice carried through the open doorway.

I sat up, blinking.

“She is in no condition to accept visitors.”

“I’m not taking your excuses anymore,” Damon’s voice grew louder. “She’s here. I know it.”

“You’re stalking my granddaughter now?”

They were coming up the stairs. I tried to move, but my limbs felt heavy. It was too nice in the tub.

“Where is she?”

“She’s in an ice bath.”

“How long has she been in it?”

“I don’t know. I got home from the store about forty-five minutes ago and she was sitting in it.”

“Forty-five minutes!” Damon flew into the bathroom, took one look at me, and pulled the plug.

“Hey,” I protested weakly. “The water was warm.”

He put his fingers into the water and drew them back quickly. “Cassie. How long have you been in here?”
 

“I don’t know,” I mumbled.

Damon turned on the water, adjusting the temperature until he was satisfied. My comfortable warmth drained away and burning water rushed onto my feet and legs.