Crossing Lines by Adrienne Giordano

26

Alfaro’s guardescorted Faith back to the first floor via the same staircase, his grip firm on her arm. Did he think she’d leap over the railing? Maybe whip out a hidden weapon and light the place up?

At the bottom of the staircase, he pulled her around, making a U-turn and heading down the long corridor she’d spotted on her arrival.

Rear entrance. Interesting. Her mind ticked through scenarios. Perhaps fewer guards out back. There had to be security video. Unless they’d shut those cameras off.

Or they didn’t want to be seen driving out the main gate at this hour. Alfaro had asked for one unmarked SUV.

The man wasn’t stupid. He knew how to erase her.

Except she didn’t intend to disappear without a fight. A lesson he should have learned when she’d eliminated his son.

Still holding her arm, the guard moved her through several arched doorways to a large kitchen gleaming with stainless steel double ovens, the biggest stove Faith may have ever seen and a giant marble island.

She skimmed the area, searching for any possible weapon. Not a butcher knife to be had.

The guard pointed to another archway that led to a smaller room with lockers. Staff entrance?

He swung the lone door open, revealing three stone steps lit by an overhead light on the small porch. At the bottom, a black SUV waited in the driveway.

Her mind spun, coming up with scenarios. Hostage exchange? Maybe some deal made with Shane where he’d turn himself in and she’d be set free?

No. She’d done worse. She’d killed Alfaro’s son. Far worse than Shane’s offense of putting the other son in prison.

This had to be a setup. A chance to kill them both.

Alfaro’s snitch had obviously given up Shane’s location. That had to be it. Two birds, one stone.

Faith halted, digging her feet into the ground. “Where are we going?”

Not that she expected an answer, but what did it hurt to ask?

“No talking,” he told her. “Go.”

When she pulled back, he shoved her, sending her stumbling over the steps. She landed hard against the SUV’s door, smacking her elbow, but refusing to cry out.

They’d like that too much and she wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

When the guard opened the rear passenger door, she tipped her chin up.

“Get in,” he demanded. “The middle.”

The middle. Crap.

The middle meant company on the other side that would block her in. She’d be trapped in the vehicle.

Run.

Her instincts all but screamed it. Running, she’d become an expert at. She might get a jump on the guard.

Logic took hold and froze her thoughts. Even if she managed to break away, eventually she’d reach the giant wall surrounding the palace.

And then what?

“In,” the guard said between gritted teeth.

Pissing him off probably wasn’t a banner idea.

She climbed into the air-conditioned cabin praying to whatever god might still be listening to her that she’d get a chance to escape.

A man sat in the driver’s seat. A young guy, maybe mid-twenties. A blast of hope exploded inside her.

Could it be Reynaldo? Before the guard could slide in, she leaned forward, pretending to move the seat belt buckle from behind her while she tried to get a look at the driver.

She’d seen pictures of Reynaldo, but who knew how old those were. Still, Rey, she’d noted from the photos, had a mole on the front part of his left cheek by his nose.

The driver, sensing movement turned and faced her, the cabin light illuminating his face and the mole.

Definitely Reynaldo.

Maybe those prayers had already been answered.

He met her gaze, holding it for a long few seconds before giving her the tiniest of nods. She wasn’t even sure if it was a nod, but she’d take it as a silent message that she wasn’t alone.

“Do you need help?”

His voice was that same prepubescent-sounding one from their short phone calls.

Oh, yes, this was Reynaldo.

“The seatbelt,” she said. “I think I’ve got it.”

The guard slid in beside her. “No talking,” he said to no one in particular.

Rey faced front and placed his hands on the wheel while the vehicle idled and Faith’s mind went crazy on scenarios.

Depending on how much security Alfaro brought along, Rey might be able to help her escape. How, she wasn’t yet sure. She’d have to figure it out fast.

Did Rey know where they were going? He had to have an address. Had he texted Shane with it?

Hope once again streamed. Wherever the final destination, Shane and Dusty and Trevor might be there. Then the odds would even out.

Then, they might have a chance.

Another man emerged from the palace. He paused on the steps, speaking to someone inside. He wore black cargo pants and a matching T-shirt that did nothing to hide his muscular frame.

Big guy. Shane big.

She’d never win a fight against a guy that big. Could she slow him down? Sure. She might even manage to run, but in hand-to-hand combat he’d crush her.

A second later, Alfaro joined the man on the porch and the two of them walked to the passenger side of the SUV. Cargo-pants guy opened the rear door and Alfaro slid in, squeezing her between him and the guard.

Trapped.

Her throat squeezed in, cutting off her oxygen. She tipped her head back and forced her shoulders down, opening herself up. Forcing her own body to release her. To fight the claustrophobia.

Cargo-pants guy hopped in front and Faith’s gut seized. At best, assuming Rey would help her, it would be three on two and something told her cargo-pants guy was former military.

Her odds sucked.

Wouldn’t be the first time.

Hopefully, it would be the last.

Rey eased the car into gear and followed the driveway to a service entrance. Rey waved to the guard standing post.

They drove through the gate and Faith’s panic whirled again. Between being pinned in and not knowing their destination, she needed to do something. Fast.

She swung her head to Alfaro. “Where are you taking me?”

“No talking,” he told her.

To punctuate the statement, he pulled a weapon — a .38 from what she could see — from the door compartment and pointed it at her.

Would the man be insane enough to pull the trigger inside this vehicle? If she pushed him hard enough, probably.

The guard beside her shifted, his hip nudging hers — too close — and the situation hit her full force.

She literally had nowhere to go and the air she’d just fought so hard for disappeared.

Her pulse slammed, the rapid buhm-buhm-buhm echoing in her ears.

Panic, that little beast inside her, wouldn’t help her out of this car.

Fight it.She stared out the windshield, imagined Shane waiting for her, the two of them going into battle. And winning.

She could do this. With help she could win.

Queen of the Pivot.

She focused on immediate steps. Alfaro was nuts. No doubt about that. Still, she didn’t believe he’d pull the trigger. Not here. Not when he had a thirst for revenge. Twisted fucker that he was, he’d want a show. He’d want to drag her in front of Shane and let him watch while they took turns raping her. For him, it would accomplish torturing both her and Shane at once.

Again, two birds, one stone.

But Alfaro didn’t know about Dusty and Trevor. Add Rey in and her odds just got a whole lot better.

She’d wait. Stay patient and use this car ride to work out a plan. Eventually, they’d reach a destination and let her out of the car.

That would be her opportunity. If her making-Shane-watch theory held, wherever they were headed, Shane would be there.

Which made screaming an option.

Definitely. The second she got out of this vehicle she’d start howling and alert Shane of her location. Let him find her by tracking the scream.

Gram always said she had a set of lungs on her.

Under a blazing bright moon— just his luck — Shane stood near the middle of a dock that stretched more than six tankers long.

Per Miguel’s directions, they’d followed the dirt road until it dead-ended at a cement barrier and a high chain-link fence that did nothing to keep ill-intentioned guys like them out.

All three of them had scaled the fence and made their way to a walkway and an empty administrative building that Miguel had told them suffered a fire years earlier. To date, the government hadn’t done the repairs, leaving this area of the port largely unguarded.

Big mistake.

Big.

Once beyond the building, they’d stayed in the shadows, moving along an access road until they reached rows and rows of shipping containers stacked four high. On the other side of those containers?

The dock where Shane now stood.

Miguel had provided enough Semtex to take out a good chunk of the dock — not to mention the shipping containers — so they’d moved closer to the end. God help them if those containers held explosives. They hadn’t planned on that much bang for their buck. Plus, injuring civilians or themselves wasn’t part of this mission.

Shane reached his target area and squatted. Focusing on his task, he set the duffel containing two bricks of Semtex beside him and glanced to his right where, a hundred yards down, Dusty’s shadow moved. He’d be doing the same as Shane and prepping for an explosion that would literally rock Alfaro’s world.

He glanced behind him, hoping to spot Trevor, but a cloud shrouded the moon, blackening the area.

Assuming Trevor was in place, Shane unzipped the bag, removed a thick slab of the explosive and set it on the edge of the dock next to the piling. The plan was to damage the support structures and watch the entire section tumble into the sea.

He slid a long length of detonator cord from his bag and shoved it deep into the brick. Then he grabbed the bag and worked his way backward, checking his six for anything he might trip over or a patrolling guard he had no interest in killing. Six feet from the first brick, he placed another hunk of explosive on the dock, linked it to the detonator cord.

Sweat, either from nerves or the heat, dripped down his back and his mind spiraled to Faith, who’d basically handed herself over to Alfaro. What the hell had she been thinking?

He shook it off, concentrated on the Semtex. Distraction during the rigging of an explosive wasn’t exactly a good way to survive.

The second batch done, he walked backward, unwinding the det cord again before reaching into his bag for a blasting cap, fuse and fuse lighter. He finished assembling the explosive with a thin wire and started back toward the dock entrance, feeding the cord behind him as he walked. Fifty yards from the explosive, he waited.

At any minute, Trevor and Dusty should be joining him. Above him, seagulls squawked and swooped, diving and soaring in search of food.

If they knew what was good for them, they’d clear the hell out.

Shane’s pulse thumped, his foot tapping in time as he waited. Come on, come on. Where were they?

Another thirty seconds. That’s what he’d give them before risking taking out his phone and basically sending a flare by lighting up the screen.

More seagulls swooped, this time further down the dock, maybe twenty yards ahead. The moon bullied its way through clouds and a sliver of light shined on Dusty moving toward Shane.

Shane waited, letting his friend get within earshot. “You good?”

“Yeah. Where’s Trev?”

“Was hoping you knew.”

Dusty angled back, scanning the darkness. “He was right across from you. He should be here by now.”

“I know.”

Dusty handed his det cord over to Shane. “I’ll find him.”

The last damned thing they needed was the two of them getting lost. Not when security might show up. “We can’t split up again. Give him another minute and we’ll text. Eventually, someone’ll come along and we’ll be screwed.”

Overhead, the seagulls finally gave up, leaving the slap of water against the concrete dock. Shane breathed in, focused on the salty air hitting his lungs.

Almost there.

At least until a woman started shrieking.

Faith screameduntil the in-shape guard grabbed hold of her, put her in a headlock and shoved his hand over her mouth.

“Get me something to shove in her mouth.”

The uniformed guard ran to the cargo area.

“Shut up!” Alfaro told her. “Or I’ll finally fill that mouth for you.”

Dream on, asshole.She’d bite his dick off and spit it at him.

“Here,” Uniformed Guard said.

“Do not scream,” the big guy told her. “Understood?”

She nodded.

The second he lifted his hand . . . “SHANE!”

She’d risked using his cover name because if they didn’t get out of this, they’d be dead anyway and it wouldn’t matter.

Now at least, if he were here, he’d know it was her.

A nasty rag reeking of gas gagged her. If she puked now, she’d die. On the list of ways to die, choking on her own vomit didn’t make the cut.

Tears bubbled in her eyes. More from the stench and taste than fear, but even badass Liz Aiken had to admit, this whole rag-in-the-mouth thing rocked her.

Please let Shane be here.

“Let’s go.” Before closing the car door, Alfaro leaned back inside where Rey still sat in the driver’s seat. “Stay here. Be ready when we get back.”

Zen moment blown to hell,Shane whirled around, nearly jerking the det cord Dusty had just handed him.

“Jesus, Shane!” Dusty hissed. “Be careful.”

He cocked his head and tracked the direction the scream came from. Left. Definitely left.

The sound came again.

Faith, Faith, Faith.

No. Couldn’t be.

He faced Dusty again, already handing both det cords over. “That sounded like Faith.”

The first time he thought maybe, maybe he’d been wishing it in the hole. Second time?

Most definitely her. This time screaming his name.

He ripped his .45 from his waist holster and pumped his legs, sprinting to the general location of where he thought the scream came from.

If he’d tracked the sound correctly, she’d be just on the other side of the stacked containers to his right.

But would she be alone?

Probably not. And what the fuck would they be doing here? Unless Alfaro knew.

Miguel probably.

Just as Trevor suspected.

Of course it was Miguel. He’d double-crossed them. When this was over, Shane might have to hunt down that son of a bitch.

A plan quickly formed. He’d get to the end of the row, take a quick peek and get his bearings.

Overhead, the spotlights shined on the containers. Red, blue, green, all of them mixed in. With any luck, the chaos of colors would make him harder to spot.

The sudden silence, after all that shrieking, made him twitchy. If it was Faith, there’d be a reason she’d gone quiet. He hadn’t heard any gunshots.

Suppressor?

They wouldn’t kill her. Not yet. Alfaro, if nothing else, was methodical. Vicious and skilled, to boot. He’d let her live until sure his docks were safe.

Ten yards from the end of the containers, Shane slowed, moving closer to the giant stack for cover as he held his .45 in front of him, ready to fire. He paused near the edge, fought to control his breathing and stay quiet after the run.

“Ow! Bitch!” a man hissed.

Right there. The voices were just around the side of the container.

“Sir,” another guy said, “are you all right?”

“She kicked me. Grab her.”

“Shhhhaaaaane!”

Definitely Faith. And it sounded like she was doing some damage. Good for her. He had to smile.

In the darkness, Shane risked a fast look and a bizarre mix of relief and panic swarmed him, made his skin itch.

Barely ten feet away, two men, one in uniform and one in dark clothing, held Faith’s arms while Alfaro stood in front of her, facing her.

Footsteps behind Shane brought him spinning, gun at the ready.

Trevor. Jesus. Did he want to die?

He threw his hands up and Shane held a finger to his lips.

Shane used hand signals, motioning around the side of the giant shipping container.

They should split up. One go. One stay. Possibly surprise Alfaro from both sides.

No. The containers were at least four city blocks long. Too long for one of them to run to the end and loop around. And who knew if he could even access the next row from that end?

“They’re here somewhere,” someone said from Alfaro’s side.

Shane leaned in, got right next to Trevor’s ear. “Where’s Dusty?”

“Back with the detonators,” Trev whispered back. “I told him to wait. Just to make sure.”

Shane peered over Trev’s shoulder envisioning the area he’d just come from. The blast site would be at least 100 yards away. Maybe 150.

Aside from potential flying debris, that 150 yards would be out of the blast’s range.

Helluva diversion.

Handing Trevor the gun, he stepped behind his friend and slid his phone from his pocket, using his body to block the glow of the screen.

He shot a text to Dusty.

Blow it.

The response was immediate. Blow it? Now?

They didn’t have time for this shit.

Blow it now.

When no response came, Shane tucked the phone away, spun back to Trevor and tapped him on the shoulder, motioning for his gun back.

Ka-boom!

The force of the blast threw Shane flush against the container, the hard steel knocking the wind out of him for a second.

To his left, hellish firesurged upward, lighting up the night sky as small chunks of metal and rocks rained down and Shane covered his head.

“Go!” he told Trevor.

Weapons aimed, the two of them rushed around the edge and halted.

His gaze locked on Faith. She’d maximized the blast by getting her arms free from the two guards who now had weapons drawn. Before the guards could grab her, she drove her elbow into El Presidente’s nose.

Helluva woman right there.

Alfaro cried out, his hands going to his face, but Faith pummeled him with a kick to the mid-section, doubling him over.

“Hold it!” Shane said.

The guards whirled, both aiming their guns at Trevor and Shane.

Classic standoff.

Shit.

Shane slid a gaze left, then right, searching for additional guards. Had to be more.

“The driver is here,” Faith said, jamming her elbow into the back of a still doubled-over Alfaro.

She emphasized the word the.

Rey must be here. Had to be.

Alfaro dropped to a knee and one of the guards flinched. This poor schmuck didn’t know if he should help his boss or risk them all getting shot.

Well, Shane would help him with that decision. He pointed his weapon. “Don’t move. Faith, leave him. Come over here.”

The bigger guard shifted right and Shane fired a shot between the uniformed guard and Alfaro.

“The next one,” Shane said, “hits someone. Leave her be.”

Faith joined the good guys, standing between Shane and Trevor. “Get behind me,” Shane said. “At least until we get you a weapon.”

She slid behind him — that alone might be a miracle. For once, she listened.

And where the hell was Dusty? If he’d blown himself up, Shane would . . .

No.Getting distracted with thoughts of his possibly-dead friend would never get him anywhere good. In minutes, the place would be swarming with cops and firefighters dealing with the aftermath of the explosion. From his vantage point, only a couple of small post-blast fires had ignited on the remains of the concrete dock.

Still, there’d be emergency personnel showing up.

And no Dusty.

Wait. There he was. Creeping up behind Alfaro and crew and Shane’s relief nearly gutted him. Goddamn, he wasn’t primed for this work anymore.

Gun drawn and still out of Alfaro’s sight, Dusty moved away from an overheard spotlight to the far end of the row.

Alfaro levered to his feet, wiping his bloody nose with his arm. He lifted his gaze to Shane, then Faith and finally Trevor.

“Here we are,” he said. “About to have some fun.”