Wicked Ties (Steele Security Series) (18 page)

“Chaise, I really need to talk to you,” Bull said tenderly.  “Can I come up?”

“Oh, hang on, someone’s at the door,” Chaise said in a drunken, sing-song voice.

“No!  Don’t answer it, Chaise!” Bull yelled, but it was too late.  She had already put the phone down and walked away. 

He could hear Chaise telling the person to wait.  He heard her unlock the door and open it.  He then heard her ask, “What do you want?”  The fear in her voice was unmistakable and made his heart jump out of his chest.

When he heard a scuffle, he thought he would go ballistic.

“She’s in trouble!” he yelled to the other men as he ran back into the hotel.

Bull, Reaper, John, Shadow
, and Rebel were met in the lobby by the hotel security team.  Despite the fact that Bull insisted she was in trouble, the security team wouldn’t let them pass.  Splitting up, they watched the elevators and exits but Chaise was nowhere to be found.

Reaper called the general manager, explained who he was
, and finally convinced him to search her room.  The manager came back down and said there was nothing out of order but Chaise was not in the room.  After apologizing for the earlier troubles they encountered, the manager excused himself.

Reaper and Bull joined the other three men outside and were met with downtrodden faces.

“What?  What is it?” Bull asked.

John pointed at the blinking lights in the night sky, “They took her to the roof and put her in the helicopter.  The
Cordovas have her now.”

Bull’s eyes followed the helicopter’s movement as it disappeared into the night sky, flying out across the ocean.  “Where are they taking her?”

“I don’t know, son,” John answered, knowing the question was directed at him.  “I haven’t infiltrated their organization to that level yet.”

Bull felt ice run in his veins, much like his time on clandestine operations as a Delta Force member.   The old training never really leaves.  It may lie dormant for a while, watching and waiting for the right time.  But when those killer instincts are needed, there’s no doubt it reemerges with a vengeance.

And vengeance would be his when Bull got those men in his sights.

“I just talked to Brad.  He tracked down the flight plan for that helicopter.  It’s headed out to a tanker a few miles offshore.  We need to get her before they either put her on another helicopter or that tanker takes off somewhere else with her,” Shadow informed them.

Rebel said, “Let me make a call.  Be right back.”

Reaper’s eyes stayed glued to the black horizon as he imagined what would happen to his sister if they didn’t get to her in time.  He looked at Bull and saw the worry in his eyes but he also saw the man he’d known while they served in the Army together.  His razor-sharp edge made him lethal, his innate distrust of everyone made him naturally suspicious of anyone’s intentions, and his training made him a killing machine.

It was during his assessment of Bull that Reaper had a revelation:  Bull really was in love with Chaise.  This was more than a job to Bull—the Cordovas had made things personal by taking Chaise.  Reaper had known Bull for many years and knew him as well as any man could.  He knew, without a doubt, if anything happened to Chaise, no man in the Cordova organization would be left standing.

“Let’s go.  I have a friend
in the Coast Guard.  We have enough probable cause for them to board the boat and search for her.  He’s letting us ride along but we have to stay on the Coast Guard cutter while they search the tanker,” Rebel explained.

“I can’t go, son.  If they see me, my cover will be blown and they would definitely kill her then.  I’ll see what I can dig up
here—get the word from the lower level guys,” John explained.

“I’m
going—I have to be there when they find her,” Bull responded.

John nodded his understanding. “Son, listen.  These guys won’t hesitate to kill you and throw your body overboard.  Watch your back out there.”

“Always,” Bull answered. 

The men parted ways, with the guys from Steele Security rushing
toward the docks and John strolling off to meet up with his local crew.  John hoped some of the guys were loose-lipped and bragging so he could get more information about Chaise’s whereabouts. 

As far as prisons went, the ocean-front presidential suite was definitely the most
luxurious.  However, it was still Chaise’s prison.  She decided the attractive man sitting in front of her couldn’t be the head of the Cordova organization. 

He looked entirely too young and refined to be part of any criminal activities.  His smile was warm and inviting.  His eyes were a rich, chocolate brown.  His hair was slightly long, black
, and was wavy on the ends.  It was styled back off his face and gave him a polished but roguish look that was very appealing.

“Hello, Ms. Steele.  I am Rico Cordova.  Regretfully, we haven’t had the pleasure of meeting in person before now.  I apologize for the circumstances of our meeting, but I’m afraid there was no other choice,” he reassured her with his silky-smooth Latino accent. 

“You could’ve just invited me up for drinks,” Chaise cooed in response.  “This suite is amazing and the company is infinitely better than in my suite.”

Rico smiled at her attempt to flirt with him.  “I’m afraid that wouldn’t have worked, Ms. Steele.  I couldn’t risk you declining my offer.  I’m not so sure you would’ve accepted my invitation.  So, here we
are—together at last, as they say.”

“You seem to have me at quite a disadvantage.  I’m still in my bathrobe.  I hardly think that’s the appropriate apparel for any type of meeting,” Chaise quipped.

“My men have brought your clothes.  You may change, if that makes you more comfortable.  But, I’m afraid you’ll have to stay with me for quite a while now, Ms. Steele.  You have been a tad too thorough in your research at Viboro Distributing,” Rico explained.  His voice was even and soothing, but held the undercurrent of inherent danger and unmistakable warnings.

Chills ran down her spine, her heart palpitations increased
, and she was breathing so fast she was sure she would hyperventilate.  He was telling her, in his kind and inviting voice, she would never be free again.  The panic attack that she had staved off earlier in the evening now threatened to rear its ugly head with full force. 

Swallowing down her fear and anger, she met his gaze with hers.  “I’m afraid that’s not an option, Mr. Cordova.  I have a previous engagement that I can’t break.  We can finish our conversation here and I will take my things back to my own suite,” she tried to project self-confidence and courage but she was sure she had failed miserably.

Rico laughed and showed his genuine amusement.  “You know, Ms. Steele, I believe we could’ve been good friends under different circumstances.  Alas, it was not meant to be.”

With a flick of his eyes, the two goons who had snatched her from her room picked her up and carried her screaming into the other room.  They left her with instructions to get dressed or go naked, but one way or another, she would leave the hotel with Mr. Cordova.

When they left, Chaise quickly dressed and searched through her things for her cell phone.  It was missing, of course.  They hadn’t reached the pinnacle of the underworld organized crime ring by making careless mistakes like that. 

Within minutes, someone knocked on the door and then quickly opened it.  “Ah, good.  You decided to go with clothes rather than without.  Less attention is drawn to us that way,” Rico teased.  Chaise was not amused.

The two goons escorted Chaise out of the suite and down the back stairway.  It was a long way down by stairs, but Rico seemed to exert no effort.  The limousine was waiting in front of the hotel and Chaise was promptly escorted into the backseat.

As they drove off, she wondered if she would ever see anyone she knew again.  The thoughts of the last words she spoke to her brother rang through her head like a persistent echo.  The regret of not settling the unresolved issues with Bull weighed heavily on her heart. 

Chaise was fairly drunk when Bull called her earlier.  She had thought about just hanging up on him but there was something in his voice that stopped her.  If only she hadn’t insisted on seeing who was at the door instead of talking to him.  Truthfully, she was hoping it was Bull outside her door, waiting to see her. 
How wrong I was
, she thought.

The limousine slowed and Chaise saw what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse ahead.  The large, sliding door began to move and opened just enough to allow the car to enter before closing them inside. 

The section Chaise was in looked like a simple garage.  There were a couple of other cars parked inside, no doubt to hide their presence from prying eyes.  An inner wall had been constructed to hide the contents of the rest of the warehouse.  A simple door that connected the two sections was located in the far corner. 

The door opened and several more burly, scary men walked into the garage area.  Chaise was escorted into the back area.  There were workmen milling about the area, putting up iron bars along one wall.  They were building a small prison inside the warehouse.  The entire wall was being lined with prison cells, complete with locking doors.

The stench emanating from the dark, musty warehouse was putrid.  She covered her nose and mouth and tried to regulate her breathing as much as she could.  Chaise fought back the bile that attempted to rise in her throat—from both the smell and from the fear that was taking hold of her senses. 

She heard sniffling and whimpers coming from the dark corner.  She strained her eyes to see what she was walking into and gasped audibly when she made out the shapes.  A sparsely furnished, makeshift cell had been constructed in the corner.  The sounds came from any one of the numerous young girls who were crammed into the small space. 

As she got closer, she immediately realized they were dirty and appeared to be barely fed.  The stench that permeated the air seemed to emanate from their bathroom.  The bathroom, which she quickly amended, was actually only a five-gallon bucket that had been haphazardly placed in the corner of the cell.  Chaise’s stomach roiled at the thought of what the poor, young girls had suffered.

As she passed by their cell, she noticed that the girls barely glanced up at her.  Their will to live was almost gone and their fight to get out had long since vanished.  Not one even tried to ask her for help.  Chaise bit back the tears that stung the back of her eyes.  She knew she had to keep her wits about her to have any chance of getting out of
her situation and helping anyone else.

The men escorted her out the back door of the warehouse and onto a rickety old pier.  The brackish water lapped at the sides of the waiting boat.  Chaise had a very bad feeling about
the impending trip.  On land, she felt like she had a fighting chance to escape.  She could run, hide, scream for help, and in Miami, someone was always within earshot.

But out on the open ocean, she would never be found.

“Where are we going?” she asked, raising her chin in defiance and stopping in her tracks.

The bigger man didn’t say anything in response.  He simply picked her up and placed her on the boat.  He jumped onboard after untying the hitching line and nodded to the other man.  The boat’s engine revved as the propellers pushed them away from land.  Chaise kept a cautious eye on the direction in which they were headed and made mental notes about landmarks.

After several minutes of traveling toward the horizon, the boat slowed and Chaise saw their intended destination.  A large, luxurious yacht was anchored offshore.  The boat she was on idled up to the back boarding platform and two more men secured it with ropes.

Chaise was escorted into the main living quarters.  Though riddled with fear, her eyes took in her surroundings and noted the opulence that the criminal underworld enjoyed while she worked hard for every dime she earned.  They walked her down the narrow hallway and into the dining area.

The man sitting at the head of the table was no doubt the senior Cordova.  He was older, more distinguished with his slightly graying temples and crinkle lines around his eyes, but there was no mistaking the likeness between the man and Rico.  Chaise approached the table and when he saw them, he quickly stood, pulled her chair out, and motioned for her to sit with him.

He called for another plate for Chaise as he took his seat.  His smile seemed so
–genuine—the laugh lines around his eyes were evidence of his penchant for smiling.  Chaise couldn’t reconcile the two men in her head—the kind, thoughtful host and the evil, underground empire ruler.  He must have sensed her inner turmoil as his face took on a self-deprecating grin before he spoke.

“Ah, I see you have perhaps heard of me, no?”  His Spanish accent was thicker than Rico’s, but it fit him perfectly.  He had thick, black hair with small speckling of gray scattered throughout.  His eyes were almost black and his skin was a beautiful shade of brown.  He was most definitely a handsome older man. 

“You must be related to Rico Cordova.  He bears a striking resemblance to you,” Chaise answered with a smile.  She felt like the worst hypocrite, having food and drinks with the man who had effectively kidnapped her, but she thought this was her best chance at escaping.  She needed to keep her enemies as close as possible.

“You are very kind to avoid offending me by assuming he is my son,” he said with a smile.  “Yes, in your culture, I would be known as Ricardo Cordova, Sr
. In my country, it would not be so, but that is of no matter.  You may call me Ricardo,” he explained while pulling her hand to his mouth.

“Thank you, Ricardo.  My name is Chaise,” she said politely.  “I see your son learned his manners from you, as well.”

Chaise’s plate was placed in front of her, along with a glass of water and a glass of wine.  After drinking two bottles of wine earlier, she really didn’t want more but she wouldn’t rudely refuse him while she was still in his good graces.

“This looks delicious,” she said while picking up her fork.  The waiter took her linen napkin and placed it on her lap.  Chaise nodded graciously at him and took a bite of her food.  “
Mmmm—I love this! My compliments to the chef!”

Ricardo and Chaise finished their light meal with companionable discussions, though each intentionally avoided the subject of why she was there, for how long, or if she would ever be free again.  Ricardo walked Chaise to the sitting area on the middle deck of his luxury yacht.  The waiter brought their drinks out and then left them alone.

“Chaise, I know you’re curious about why you’re here with me,” Ricardo said, his voice maintaining his friendly host tone.  “There are certain parts of my business that I’m not necessarily proud of, but they are a necessity.  You have stumbled into that part of my business, unfortunately.

“This saddens me because I have truly enjoyed your company.  I’m afraid we must part ways now, Miss Chaise.  I had to meet you first, though.  It has been my pleasure,” Ricardo stated.

“I don’t understand what you mean.  I haven’t stumbled across anything,” she hedged.  She knew she had found something big but she didn’t know all the details of it yet.  She hoped to use that ignorance to her advantage.  “I’ve only found some date discrepancies in your payroll and human resources documentation.  That happens in every country.  Why would you want to fire me over that?”

“Let’s not insult each other’s intelligence by pretending.  It’s been far too pleasant to taint it with that kind of ending,” he said. 

Two of his men appeared and pulled her up to standing.  “Goodnight, Miss Chaise,” he called as the men walked her back to the waiting speedboat. 

****************

The cutter approached the tanker with Bull and Reaper pacing nervously back and forth in anticipation.  Rebel’s friend with the Coast Guard had come through and they were fast on their way to boarding the other vessel.  Bull’s hands were locked in a permanent fist and they were ready to pound the first man he came upon.

“No one but Coast Guard personnel leaves this cutter.  Is that understood?  We do this by the book or we won’t do it at all,” Commander Harper ordered.

All the men answered affirmatively except Bull.  Commander Harper gave him a pointed look, raised his eyebrows, and waited for an answer.  Bull huffed and reluctantly nodded his head.

“But if she’s on there, you get her off that ship before you do anything else,” Bull commanded.

“You have my word,” Harper replied.

The cutter slowed and a small motorboat
full of men who would conduct a thorough search of the vessel was lowered into the water.  Bull and Reaper watched intently as the men boarded.  Bull snatched up a pair of binoculars, intent on searching for Chaise in any way that he could.

When he caught one of the men in his sights, he stopped on him and examined his face.  The man appeared to be looking directly at him with a shitty smirk on his face.  He was mocking them and laughing at them for wasting their time searching for her.  He was helping to waste time by not volunteering any information.

“Motherfucker!”  Bull yelled loudly.

“What is it,
Bull?” Reaper asked.

“She’s not here.  The whole crew is too calm and collected.  The one guy on deck is pointing over here and laughing.  They’re making us waste our
time—they’ve taken her somewhere else,” he explained.