Hard Target: Elite Ops - Book One (8 page)

She stared at Leland and nodded. “Yes, it was difficult.” Her voice didn’t even break on the words.

“You haven’t been to the police yet?” His question was more of a statement.

She took another deep breath, anxious to move on. “No, for the reasons we talked about earlier with the transplant. Max is very influential here. I can’t risk anything happening with Zach’s place on the list. My plan is to get Zach into the hospital tomorrow, then deal with his father’s issues.”

Leland made a non-committal “hmm” sound.

“We’d fought about where to do the treatment a while back. Max wanted to do it in Mexico because organs are more readily available there. I didn’t want to because I think the doctors and care are better here. Max swore he’d given up on that plan, but given tonight’s events I’m not so sure he ever did. Why would he want Zach back in Mexico now? Right before his LVAD operation?” The thought of her son being in a Mexican hospital for such a complicated operation was more frightening than her being in bed with Max this morning.

She stopped, no longer wanting to reveal details of her life and failed marriage to Leland who sat intently watching her. He’d been nodding from time to time as she spoke, but now he was silent.

Her heart rate punched up and her hands were sweating. Why had she ever thought she needed to explain all this? He had to be planning how fast he could leave after he got her and Zach into a new room.

She watched for a reaction as he leaned back in his chair, breaking eye contact to study the television that was playing a late edition of the news. “That’s quite a story,” he finally said.

“Do you believe me?” she asked.

“Does it matter?” His question wasn’t accusing, but it rankled as he studied her face again with that unchanging fervor.

The shock of the question sank in, but she didn’t have time to pull it apart before he continued. “For the record, I do believe you. But I’m not the important one here. Zach is. He needs to know as much as you can tell him, for starters that you’re not pregnant and as much of the truth about you and your husband’s separation and what you overheard in Cancun as you can share. He’s very concerned.”

Leland was right. She knew he was, but his words still irritated her. “What do I tell him? His father, despite his many faults, loves him. How do I tell Zach that Max wants me dead? I won’t be able to take those words back once I say them.” She felt lost, and part of her wanted nothing more than for someone to tell her what to do. Another part of her wanted to stand on her own and to be left the hell alone.

Leland gave her a calculating look.
He’s not sure how much to say
, she thought.

“Zach’s old enough to recognize your marriage is falling apart. He told me as much tonight. Lying about that will only give the information more power than it has. So talk to him. You don’t have to go into detail about everything to tell Zach that you love him and would do anything for him.” He leaned forward, putting both feet firmly on the floor. “What’s the harm in your son knowing that?”

His words surprised her. She tilted her head to look at him and wondered exactly what Leland did as a DEA agent. “You ever think about going into family therapy?”

He laughed—a booming, hearty sound—so rich, deep, and unexpected that it resonated inside her. She actually felt the echoes bouncing around in her chest.

“No, ma’am. I’ve never thought about that kind of job change before.”

“So what is it you do exactly?” she pressed.

“Nothing you want to hear about tonight. We’ll talk about me next time.” He smiled and she noted the lines of exhaustion around his eyes.

The hotel clerk walked over with her new card keys. Their room would be on the second floor, next door to Leland’s.

“I wonder where our personal bell hop is?” he asked.

The calm that had been slowly unfurling inside her chest fled. “He should be back by now.” She looked around, intent on not overreacting after the drama-filled day she’d had.

“It’s alright. He’s probably playing a video game. Let’s go up. We’ll check on him and get you moved,” said Leland.

The elevator door
dinged
, but Zach wasn’t there. Leland opened the fire exit door before stepping into the elevator car. The stairwell was empty as well.

The first lick of real fear shimmied up her spine. What had Max said?
He’d have his son back one way or the other.

Watching the numbers tick by on the elevator, Anna’s cool demeanor fled and her head was awash in “what ifs.” They stepped off the elevator, and she hurried down the corridor beside Leland, scared to death of what she’d find.

“I’m sure he’s just kicking back up here in my room for a moment. It’s been a tense evening,” he offered.

She didn’t believe that and wondered if Leland really did either. At the end of the hall, it was obvious something was wrong before they got to the room. Leland’s door was wide open but hanging askew on the wooden frame. Bile rose in the back of her throat as she rushed past him, stumbling into the trashed room.

Her eyes darted around the space. She couldn’t breathe. Video games and the iPad from Max’s package were again scattered over the floor along with Zach’s iPhone and the clothing from their carry-on. A broken chair lay on its side. This was déjà vu.

She stared at the chaos, her mind refusing to accept what her eyes were taking in. Her emotions caught up when she spied a wet smear of blood marring the white Formica dining table. Beside the stain lay a folded sheet of paper with her name boldly printed in block letters.

She felt herself come apart as her breath caught in her lungs. Pushing past Leland, she stopped in the middle of the room. Her knees buckled and she sank to the floor. Squeezing her eyes shut did little to block the rising horror.

Nothing could hide the truth.

“Oh my god, they’ve taken Zach.”

Chapter Nine

L
ELAND STUDIED THE
room. It was easier than watching Anna try to beat back overwhelming fear and panic. Her arms were crossed around her middle as she silently rocked forward and backward on her knees. He didn’t touch her as she fought to pull it together. That would have been another mistake to pile on top of the boatload of major errors he’d made this evening.

He didn’t want to believe the painfully obvious himself. The boy had been taken and had put up a hell of a fight on the way out.

How long had he been gone? Ten minutes? Five minutes? Thirty seconds? Who had taken him?

Max Mercado as the culprit seemed a stretch given his current location—cooling his heels in jail. But hearing Anna’s story, the Tequila King appeared to be the prime candidate. Max was richer than God and had powerful connections.

It would have been comforting to think Mercado had the boy if it wasn’t for that blood on the table. The man wasn’t likely to harm his own son. Yet Mercado had vowed that he’d have the boy one way or the other. Did that mean dead or alive?

Leland moved forward and leaned down to examine the note. A smudged patch of blood marred the white surface of what appeared to be ordinary copy paper. He carefully lifted the folded note using a pen. It was probably too much to hope for fingerprints, but you never knew.

The message was written in blue ink and block letters—direct and to the point.

We have the boy. If you want to see him again, bring $750,000 to the Cantina El Flamenco in Baxtla, Estado de Veracruz-Llave before 7
PM
Saturday evening. No police or the boy dies.

Jesus.
Saturday was tomorrow. He glanced at his watch. Seven
PM
was only a little over eighteen hours from now. Baxtla was in the middle of freaking nowhere, at least 140 miles from Mexico City and smack in the middle of cartel territory.

Was this really Max Mercado’s doing? It would have to have been set up before the man was arrested. There was no way Anna’s husband could have arranged it otherwise. But why do it at all?

Max doted on his son. Since the boy was ill and needed a heart transplant, taking him seemed a sure way to kill him. Kidnapping made no sense, but the idea of its being an unhappy coincidence made Leland’s neck itchy. So far, Max had been too involved for this not to be connected as well.

“Anna?” He knelt down to help her up. She was still rocking back and forth on the floor, but at his address she stopped moving, even though she kept her eyes tightly closed. He took her hand and eased her to her feet. Her fingers were freezing. He didn’t know what to do. He’d never thought of himself as being good at comforting people, so he simply held her hand.

Obviously this was killing her. But Leland couldn’t think about that. He needed to focus on who to call for help in getting Zach back. Part of that process was figuring out what exactly this had to do with the Mercados.

Did they owe money to the wrong people? Had Max reneged on some kind of deal, or had he orchestrated all of this? Why hadn’t Leland considered that Max might send someone else? Had the Vicodin he took before leaving the hotel chilled him out to the point of idiocy? What had he been thinking to let Zach come up here alone?

There was another reason the boy might have been taken, but he didn’t want to tell Anna about that possibility either.

Could Zach’s kidnapping be related to his cartel testimony at the Vega trial? The boy
was
taken from Leland’s own room. It was terribly suspicious. He needed to tell her, but to do it now, when she was in such distress seemed cruel.

Still, what if this was his fault?

God, a part of Leland wanted out and away from all this. He wasn’t willing or able to take on another life and death situation. He’d thought he was done with that, leaving that life and obligation behind when he’d signed the DEA resignation letter just a few hours ago.

Another part of him wanted to do whatever it took to find Zach. Having stopped Max’s rampage earlier, Leland felt responsible for the boy’s and his mother’s safety, regardless of whether this had to do with his own cartel testimony or with Max’s possible shady business connections.

But Leland had failed the last time he got so deeply involved. He’d made mistakes, bad judgment calls. People had died as a result.

Clinging to his hand, Anna stood beside him and read the note. Silent tears streamed down her face. He knew when she’d finished reading because she let go of his fingers and turned without a word, hurrying to the bathroom.

He could hear her vomiting into the toilet and waited until he heard the commode flush and water running in the sink before he walked into the bathroom.

She was rinsing her mouth, her face a splotchy red color and her nose running. She didn’t “cry pretty” like some women. That was vaguely reassuring.

Before his eyes she pulled herself back together. It was astonishing to see that kind of strength and control. That she was even functioning after the shock of this on top of the day she’d had was remarkable.

She sniffled once more and wiped her face with a towel before speaking. “This is surreal. I’ve always known kidnapping was a possibility in Mexico. But here in Dallas? Why would they come after us here? They had no way of knowing where we even were unless . . .”

“Unless what?” he asked.

She pulled in a deep breath. “It keeps coming back to Max, doesn’t it? Could he have set this up when he was searching for us?”

She stared at the letter, then back at him.

“It would have been tough but not impossible,” he said.

“Where is Baxtla exactly?” she asked.

“In the mountains. It’s a tight timeline.”

She nodded. “How did they find us?”

“The whole world knew Max was here a couple of hours ago. Do you know of anyone who wants to hurt your family?”

“Here in the US, no. In Mexico, everyone’s scared of the cartels. It’s why we have personal security.”

That was true enough. To be wealthy and live in Mexico at the present time was to be a target.

She shuddered. “Last year the accountant for some friends of ours was kidnapped. The couple owned several factories in Monterrey. Local authorities were no help. Five hours after they discovered the kidnapping, the accountant was dead. My friends packed overnight bags and left the country for good in a private plane.”

She worried her lower lip as she spoke. “They left everything. Their home, their livelihood, their lives. They’ll never go back.”

“That was a wise course of action,” said Leland. “Kidnappings are as common in Mexico as breaking and entering in the US. It’s become a business. The accountant will be taken for his knowledge of the owner’s finances. After the financial information is accessed, the owner or another family member is also taken and the kidnappers are able to ask for a ransom, down to the penny, that can be liquidated from the company’s assets. The police are no longer trusted because in many cases they’re in on it. Kidnapping is the quickest way to raise cash.”

She was staring straight ahead when she answered. “It’s why we moved back to the US.”

“Were there any specific threats against your husband or family at the time of your move?

“Not that I know of.”

“What about right now?” he asked.

“I have no idea. After this afternoon, I don’t know Max anymore. I don’t know anything anymore.” He heard the defeat in her tone and studied her, unsure of how much to share or of how much she could handle.

He kept coming back to the fact that the boy was taken from
his
hotel room. Leland was a DEA agent who had testified in a huge case involving cartel evidence. There were more than a few people who wouldn’t mind causing him or those associated with him harm.

Maybe this wasn’t about the Mercados at all. Maybe it was about Leland and his issue with the Vegas. Maybe Zach had just gotten in the way.

Still, that all seemed a huge coincidence based on what had happened earlier with Max. Besides, the ransom note was addressed specifically to Anna. The Vegas knew enough about Leland to know he didn’t have a spare $750,000 lying around.