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* * *

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea at all, Manolito.” Old Elias cleaned his glasses.

  “Saldado, call me Saldado, you fool.” Manolito hissed.

  Elias shrugged. “Let’s think about this like reasonable men. You’ve already got one major problem. I don’t think you need two.”

  Manolito seethed. “I’m sick and tired of those damn Texas Rangers making my life a living hell. I get rid of one and another not only witnesses the execution, he takes a damn photo.”

  “If you succeed in eliminating Ranger Landon, no one will be able to prove anything. With him out of the way, you and your slave trade will still be flying under the radar. If you change tactics and demand money for this woman, you’d be shining a spotlight on yourself and your business – and with all the wrong people. Texas Rangers are infamous for completing their missions.”

  Manolito spat on the ground. “Fuck the Rangers. I’ve had to enlist several hired guns to help me take down that damn Texas cowboy. I need the money that this scientist will bring.”

  “She has no money, we checked.”

  “Not her, personally, no.” He raised an eyebrow. “The U.S. Government will not want her knowledge to get into enemy hands.”

  Everything was the same color here, the sand-colored walls blended with the sand-colored floor, a surface that showcased every drop of blood that fell on it. This hellhole in the desert didn’t draw many visitors, which made the flurry of activity in the hall even more alarming. Manolito jumped up, grabbing a pistol from the table he was sitting behind. “Who’s there?” The corner of a billowing white robe was the first thing that came into view, announcing the arrival of their partner in crime, his biggest and most important customer.

  “Sheik Yasin, you’re early!”

  “I heard you have a new shipment for me. Any blondes this time? Blondes bring a higher price than most.”

  “Two.” Manolito held up a pair of fingers, then bowed low to the Arab.

  He was accompanied by three men with rifles in their hands and swords on their hip. Their headdresses did not contain the bejeweled badge of honor that Yasin’s displayed. The man was related to the Saudi royal family and his wealth was incalculable. Still, the riches he possessed did not quench his thirst for more. “Excellent. If she strikes my fancy, I might have to sample her wares ahead of time.” He rubbed his hands together. “Nine more beauties.”

  “Eight.”

  Yasin’s head jerked toward the Mexican. “Did you lose one in the process?”

  Elias let out a long breath, not bothering to explain his sigh.

  “No.” Manolito folded his arms over his chest. “One is unsuitable as a punta, I’m keeping her for other uses.”

  “Really?” Yasin sounded skeptical. “Why is she unsuitable? Would we need to put a bag over her head?”

  “Her face is not the part of her that we need to cloak. Our customers prefer a thinner figure.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that,” the Sheik spoke with absolute authority. “How did you manage to snare her in your net? Usually, you’re more careful.”

  Manolito glared at his benefactor. “We were pressed for time. Black Raptor was onto us, we were running out of opportunity.”

  Yasin frowned. “Were you careful? Did anyone follow you?”

  Manolito shook his head in the negative. “No, we took extra precautions. I went on stage as the women were being loaded and we flew out of a different airport. Raptor wasn’t able to follow.”

  “Good.” Yasin held his hand out and one of his companions placed a small drawstring bag in his palm. Opening it, he pulled out a handful of brilliant diamonds. “This is your bonus for a job well done.” He threw the stones toward Manolito and Elias. “Now, tell me what your plans are for the captive you fear won’t sell.”

  Manolito embarrassed himself by rushing for the diamonds as they bounced and scattered across the floor. He was a fuckin’ rock star and this madman in a head-rag had him jumping around like a damn frog on a hotplate. Once he gathered the expensive stones from the floor, he straightened to see a knowing smirk on the Sheik’s face.

  “I’m waiting for your answer.”

  “I think I can get more for her as a hostage. She might be worth something to the U.S. government.”

  “Do I need to remind you,” Yasin began slowly, “that this is my decision? I financed this mission.”

  Knowing the Sheik’s ruthlessness, Manolito answered quickly, “No, but I just thought…”

  “Don’t waste your time thinking, Music-Man. Croon your tunes and sell your drugs on the street corner, leave everything else to me. Now, what makes you think she has value to America?”

  When Manolito hesitated, Elias spoke up, “She is a scientist. Her field of expertise is biological and chemical warfare. At present, she is working as part of a team designing a material that is impervious to sarin, cyanide, Agent 15, and others.”

  “Interesting.” A glimmer of satisfaction crossed Yasin’s face. “And you would have hidden this from me, Manolito? The sex slave market is for amusement, you know my main goal.”

  “No, Yasin, I did not intend to deceive you,” Manolito spoke lowly, realizing he’d made a mistake. The man was crazy. Since his favorite son had been assassinated by the Israeli Mossad, he’d taken up his radical causes with a vengeance. Destroying the Zion state and all its allies was his greatest desire. “I share your vision.” The same Mossad agent who killed Yasin’s son had also murdered Manolito’s little brother.

  “We won’t be advertising our whereabouts by demanding ransom. Bring the woman to me and any information you have gathered. I shall determine if she has any value.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  “Step over here, Ty, I can barely hear you.” Drew motioned for his friend to join him in his den, a distance away from where the band was playing in the ballroom.

  “Thanks for doing this for Ky, Doc. I’d forgotten what wonders you could do with a side of Texas beef. The meal was delicious.” He pointed out the window to Drew’s pride and joy, a BBQ pit built onto a sixteen-foot lowboy trailer. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a grill that long.”

  Drew beamed. “I had that baby special made. We use it to prepare food for civic events mostly. One end is a cooker that will charcoal grill at least fifteen briskets and the other end is a smoker, I figure I could do ten hams on it.” He looked out at the happy crowd milling around. A steady stream of folks were moving from room to room, making themselves at home. “This was great, believe me. Palo Gaucho hasn’t seen this much fun in years. Hattie says I don’t take time to smell the roses.”

  “You work too hard, you always have. If it’s not the clinic taking up your time, it’s the ranch. Now, I understand you’ve struck oil.” Ty chuckled. “The rich get richer, I’ve always heard. Us poor working men can’t even relate.” He looked around at the big house, carefully preserved and registered as a historical landmark. “Growing up, I was always in awe of this place. My favorite spot was the third-floor attic. I swear I could see all of Texas from that Widow’s Walk.”

  “Yet, you and Ty had the happy home and I…didn’t.” People in town were fond of telling Drew how they would pass by and see his mother standing out there, watching for his father. Pity, his dad hadn’t come home from Korea before she died in childbirth – bringing Drew into the world.

  “I don’t know.” Ty carefully studied his friends face. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think you’re letting a few bad memories erase all the good ones. Your dad was beloved in this small town and he thought you hung the moon. Did he have a problem? Yes, he did. But he did a lot of good for this community. You’re more like him than you realize.”

  Drew shifted from one foot to the other. Ducking his head, he weighed his friend’s words. “I know you’re right, I just…haven’t gotten over it.” Clearing his throat, he chuckled, mentally moving on. “You want to tell me what’s going on with you? I’ve never seen you in a baseball cap and sunglasse
s. Is this your idea of a disguise? And where’s your truck? You arrived at the church in a van, for God’s sake. I thought you were a florist delivery.”

  Ty pressed his lips together. “I haven’t told Ky, but I almost didn’t come. I had to jump through hoops with the Captain to get here. The half-baked disguise and the van was part of it, but I also had to throw up a smokescreen so it would look like I was headed in another direction. And you might not have noticed them, but I have an entourage guarding the place.”

  “Oh, I noticed.” Drew pointed out the window. “You’ve got two men outside, one at the end of the drive, and another down by the second gate that leads to the barn.”

  “Yea, there’s also one on the roof.”

  Drew barked out a laugh. “No, shit. What the hell is going on? Are we in danger?”

  Ty shook his head. “No, it’s just a precaution. I’ve covered my tracks. I wouldn’t put Ky and Cooper or any of you in danger, if I could help it.” Seeing Drew was waiting for the rest of the story, Ty moved closer and lowered his voice. “A few days ago, I was on the trail of a man we know as Saldado. He’s into everything you can think of – drugs, prostitution, we even think he’s involved with international terrorism. Another Ranger assigned to the task had gone missing and we suspected he’d gotten captured. I caught up with them down in the warehouse district of Houston and witnessed Roscoe’s execution. Saldado is a mystery man, there are many rumors as to his identity – but I’m the only one who can confirm the suspicions.”

  Drew was hanging on Ty’s every word. “What do you mean?”

  “I saw him, I can identify him. I snapped his photo with my phone.”

  “Great! Anyone we know?”

  “Possibly.” Ty shook his head. “I’m not at liberty to say. The real problem is that they know I was there. They witnessed me witnessing the murder and now I have a bulls-eye on my back. After the wedding tomorrow, the Captain is determined to put me somewhere safe until this is over. We got word, in a roundabout way, that they’re sending hitmen from across the border. They’re supposed to arrive in the states in a couple of days. They’d be here sooner, but we suspect they’re stretched too thin. Several women have gone missing in San Antonio and Saldado and his group are the main suspects. If they are involved, we don’t know where they’re taking them. We assumed they were being transported back to Mexico, but we’ve found no evidence of that.”

  “Holy hell, do you need any help? I can still shoot with the best of them. I’ve got Dad’s firearm collection upstairs and I’ve added a few of my own. I’m armed, dangerous, and at your service.” Drew wasn’t kidding, he’d go to bat for this guy anytime.

  “Oh, I think I’ll be fine. This isn’t my first rodeo. Besides…” he grimaced, “the Captain has arranged for me to have a bodyguard.”

  “Well, that’s probably not a bad idea under the circumstances.”

  “A woman.”

  If the situation wasn’t so serious, Drew would have laughed. “A woman?” He choked. Not that Drew was chauvinistic, he believed in women’s rights. His Ranger friend wasn’t so modern minded. Of the three of them, Tyler was the one who was stuck in the cowboy mindset, the mystique of the Old West – where women were women and men were men and the twain only met in bed – or in the kitchen…which probably explained why he wasn’t married. Not many ladies would put up with Tyler Landon’s dominant personality. “Yea, a woman, named Aliyah. Don’t that beat all?”

  About that time, applause rang out and Ty and Drew stepped out of the den so they could see what was going on. As the band played Anne Murray’s May I Have This Dance for the Rest of My Life, Kyler held Cooper in his arms as they swept across the ballroom floor. “Now that’s worth any trouble I’ve been through,” Ty mused.

  “Which one of us do you think will be next?” Drew asked with a smirk on his face.

  “Not me. It will take a helluva woman to get me to the altar, Haley. I don’t think she exists,” Tyler said dryly.

  “We’ll see. Time will tell,” Drew muttered. He was waiting patiently for the big man to fall hard for some woman – because when he did, the roof would cave in.

  * * *

  “I am not giving you a choice, Miss Montoya. You will agree to work for me. I have my ways to convince you.”

  The Sheik’s words sent a chill down Angelina’s spine. She could only imagine what he meant. “Do your worst. I’d rather die than help you.” She refused to even consider being a part of creating more weapons of mass destruction.

  “You’ll cooperate with me, or you’ll be begging for death before it’s over,” he assured her. “I’ll make it simple for you. I want some type of vesicant or blister agent that I can deliver by drone. Do you think you could do that?”

  Angelina was horrified. “Absolutely not. Even if I could, there’s no amount of money on earth that would convince me to help you.”

  The Sheik laughed. “Money? I’m not offering you a job, Miss Montoya. I’m offering you a chance to escape torture.”

  Angelina refused to react. “I won’t help you.”

  “Very well.” Yasin clapped his hands. “Let me see if I can change your mind.”

  Doing her best to be brave, Angelina remained mute while she was roughly escorted away from the Sheik’s presence and taken to a room where a turbaned man with a mustache stood waiting. He was surrounded by tables, benches, and cabinets. The only light in the room was from two long fluorescent fixtures, one of which was blinking and the other emitted a buzzing noise that could easily become annoying. “Ah, what have we here?”

  “The Sheik wants her cooperation, Moshe.”

  “My pleasure.” He bowed, gesturing gallantly for Angelina to take a seat. “Gentle persuasion is my specialty.”

  …Outside the desert winds blew as a haboob moved in, the sandstorm sixty-two miles wide and howling like a demon. With every breath she took, Angelina was grateful for the noise to mask her screams. Neither her imagination nor her nightmares had been sufficient to prepare her for the anguish the man subjected her to. Electricity was shot through her body. She was whipped with a cat o’ nine tails and waterboarded until she thought drowning would be a relief. Time ceased to matter and Angelina prayed for the release unconsciousness would bring. But her stubborn mind wouldn’t release its hold on reality, she endured every burn, every blow, and every drop of water that flowed into her nose and mouth, stealing her ability to breathe.

  Still…she refused to surrender. Instead, she recited meaningless facts. Facts were her specialty, she collected them like some people collected coins.

  “Did you know if you fly from London to New York on the Concorde, considering the time zones, you’ll arrive two hours before you left?” She swallowed, catching her breath. “Did you know an ostrich’s eye is bigger than his brain?”

  Yasin came to watch her misery, laughing at her mumbling, and questioning Angelina after each round of torture.

  “Shall I end this?” Moshe asked after an indeterminate amount of time.

  Angelina closed her eyes at the brief respite, her mouth was so raw, she was sure blood was running down her throat.

  “No, we’re not through,” the Sheik informed him. “Take Miss Montoya to the doctor. I have a special treat designed just for her.”

  Barely able to walk, Angelina was carted to the far reaches of the compound. The dust had settled and the glare of the sun was so bright, she could barely see. Her eyes were mere slits, her face swollen from countless beatings, her sides black from being kicked with steel-toed boots. There wasn’t a cell in her body that didn’t throb with pain. Her clothes were in tatters and she shuddered at the realization her body was on display to the men they passed. She could hear snickers and low muttering. What they said, she did not know, but the tone was mocking and a fierce blush rose over her body as she imagined what was being said.

  “Angelina!”

  A woman’s voice called out to her.

  “Celeste?” Her own voice was weak
and she turned her head, trying to find the source. Across the way, she could see a woman’s head peering through iron bars. “I see you, Celeste!”

  “Shut up!” She was slapped so hard, Angelina went to her knees. “You have nothing to say to those bitches!”

  “I want to see her,” she cried, as she was snatched to her feet and pushed forward.

  “Not possible. Those women are headed in a different direction.” Mr. Tattoo was back today, taking pleasure in pushing Angelina beyond her limits. “Their paths will not cross with yours.”

  “Selling women makes you the lowest form of humanity, you know that, don’t you?” she asked, even as her eyes widened at the sight before her. A white-haired man stood waiting on them, his hand outstretched, his eyes maniacal. “Who is that?”

  “Your new best friend. He’s a doctor like you, Dr. Rice. The other women have already been to see him. He doles out drugs like candy, drugs that will make a woman do whatever a man wants her to do.”

  “Not me,” she swore. After what she’d survived, she couldn’t imagine the drugs would even compare. Several times, she’d almost broken down and relented. It was only the idea of innocent people suffering horrible deaths because of something she did that gave her the strength to endure the unspeakable things Moshe had done to her.

  Having heard their exchange, the strangely pale man spoke up, “You won’t be receiving the same drug I gave the other women, Dr. Montoya. They’ll be receiving something fairly mild, a mix of an aphrodisiac and a form of the date-rape drug. You, on the other hand…”

  He pulled off his glasses and Angelina realized he was an albino. “What?” Angelina prompted, mesmerized by his light blue eyes. “What are you going to do to me?”

  “Oh, you’ll receive a new concoction, one that will make you feel things a woman like you has never felt before.” His eyes raked over Angelina, making her aware of her state of undress. “You think you’re so proper. So above the fray. I’ll drag you down to the gutter and before I’m through, you’ll be begging to stay there.”