Abducted:Reconnaissance Team (Texas Rangers: Special Ops) (11 page)

“Brandon Hunter.” 

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Hunter.” 

“Call me Brandon,” he said.

She smiled. “Call me Liz.”

“Fair enough. I gather there's a special reason Ben brought you here,” he said.

Liz nodded, but before she could go on, R.W. and Hal entered. “Looks like you're a celebrity,” R.W. said to her.

“News travels fast.” She started to take another sip of her drink, then stopped. “Oh, my God.” 

“What is it?” Brandon asked.

“The news story means Mr. Sanchez knows Ben's identity.” 

“Ben is named as Adam Billings,” his father said.

“Adam.” She nodded, relieved. “That was the name he gave Mr. Sanchez.” 

R.W. snorted. “That's the name the cops gave when they leaked the story, you mean.” 

Liz frowned. “Ben didn't say anything about a newscast.” 

“Course not,” R.W. said. “He's one of 'em.” 

She shook her head. “I don't believe it. He was as surprised as I was.” 

“You haven't known him very long, have you, sweetheart?” 

Liz opened her mouth, then shut it. He was right. She'd known Ben just long enough to see him play the part of a model convincingly enough to get hired. He had saved her life, but wasn't that what cops did? Wasn't that the kind of thrill they lived for? And leaking her name to the press didn't increase her danger. Mr. Sanchez knew her identity. Leaking the story—and her role in that story—was a win/win for the police. But a losing proposition for Nina Bruno.

“Captain,” Ben began as he closed the study door, but Medina cut him off.

“I saw the video. It's all over the news.” 

“How bad is it?” Ben crossed the hallway to his father's private study and stepped inside.

“Your car was caught flying through the booth with you big as life at the wheel. They also got good footage of you pulling Ms. Monahan from the car.” 

“Damn,” Ben muttered. The video would cement Sanchez’s belief that Ben was law enforcement.

“I already spoke with Sara Romero at Channel 9,” Medina said. “She says a Leonard Nunez handed over a video made with his cell phone.” 

Ben stopped beside his father's desk and leaned his butt against the edge, reliving the moment he stopped the car and pulled Liz out. “I don't remember seeing anyone recording us.” He did recall Liz’s soft weight in his arms and her tears wetting his shirt. “Though I admit I was distracted.” 

“According to Sara, Nunez is a low level member of the Familia cartel,” Medina said.

“Familia cartel?” Ben repeated. “Damned convenient that one of Sanchez’s kissing cousins just happened to be in the right spot to catch us on film. What do you bet someone called ahead and one of the Juarez border cops made the video?” 

“Yep,” Medina said. “Sara says the camera angle makes it easy to place as someone on the Juarez side.” 

“Which means they leaked the tape hoping someone would ID me.” 

“That's my guess,” the captain replied. “Are you somewhere safe?”

Ben glanced out the window and into the far pasture where a paint and a quarter horse grazed. “For now.” 

“And Ms. Monahan?” 

“Same,” Ben said. “Anything on the two men who followed us to
The Charcoal Grill
?” 

“By the time our boys got there, they were gone, which didn't please Braxton and Masters. They want Ms. Monahan's statement ASAP, by the way.” 

“I just bet they do—and they probably plan to use that time to pressure her about returning to Mexico.” He still hadn't figured out their angle.

“Fact is,” Medina said, “they're talking about coordinating with the Juarez District Attorney to arrest Sanchez in Juarez, then follow up with extradition.” 

“What?” Ben straightened from the desk. “Just this afternoon they wanted us to return to Mexico. This must be a ploy to get Liz down to their office so they can take her into
protective custody
.” Which would remove her from his protection. He didn't trust them to keep her safe longer than it took them to purchase a new pair of Ray Bans. “There's been a warrant for Sanchez’s arrest in Mexico for three years. What makes the Feds think they can get the Juarez D.A. to serve the warrant now?”  

“Dendy called,” Medina said. “He believes Sanchez's need for revenge might draw him out into the open where we can get our hands on him.” 

Regret stabbed through Ben. “I should have arrested him last night when I had him close enough to touch.”  

“No one could have guessed that Ms. Monahan would end up in Mexico with you.” 

“That one caught me off guard,” Ben admitted. In all the scenarios that had played out in his head, the possibility that Liz would be kidnapped by Sanchez's men hadn't even deserved a glimmer. “But it doesn't change the fact that I didn't get Remmey’s granddaughter or Sanchez.” The Feds weren't all wrong. When it came right down to it, he had jeopardized the operation. 

“Sanchez has to find you,” Medina said. “It's not just revenge. He's got to save face. If he lets this pass, it's a sign of weakness. That's how we'll get him.” 

Ben remembered his original concern. “I'll paint a bull's eye on my chest, if that's what it takes,” he began, “but—” 

“Relax, Hunter, even the FBI doesn't use civilians as targets. We’ll let Sanchez think you and Ms. Monahan are returning to Mexico, but she won’t be anywhere near the action. He won't try to shoot you himself, but whoever tries might lead us straight to him. Dendy is making it clear to the Feds that we'll coordinate with them, but this is our operation. They don’t like it, but we've asked the Juarez Chief of Police to make it clear that he's more likely to play nice with us than with them.”  

Ben allowed the idea to sink in. “Too bad the Feds weren't smart enough to think of this from the start. Would have saved us a lot of trouble. I'm not going to forget their threats against me anytime soon.” 

Medina surprised him by chuckling. “Braxton and Masters voiced their threats directly to me. I'm just the captain of Company E in little old El Paso. I'm nobody. I got the call from Dendy half an hour after the video aired. He had just gotten off the phone with Masters.” Ben could hear the amusement in his boss' voice. “I imagine that when the video hit the news, they realized Sanchez was on the offensive. That put an end to their playtime.” 

“Dendy's going to get everything in detail from them?” Ben asked.

“Yeah,” Medina said. “Just hold on for a few hours. We need to give the FBI yours and Ms. Monahan's statements, but I want everything in place before you two move. Last thing we need is for someone who knows you to turn up and tell Sanchez who you are before we're ready. Our best bet to catch him is if his hit man comes after you in Mexico.” 

Ben grunted. “Always happy to serve.”

“By the way,” Medina said, “we got a lead on the man you saw at Sanchez’s place. Your sketch comes close to fitting a picture we have of Ray Barrero. Born in Mexico City and a graduate of The National Autonomous University of Mexico with a degree in economics.”

“Sanchez recruited a college graduate?” Ben had heard it all. “He didn’t look like an accountant, Captain.”

“He’s not. The Mexican police questioned him in connection with prostitution and drug running. He’s new to Sanchez’s outfit.”

“Upwardly mobile,” Ben murmured.

“Yes, and he’s lucky enough to now be on our radar,” Medina said. “I want you to sit tight until we decide on our next move. Don’t take Ms. Monahan into public.”

“We’re safely tucked away, Captain.”

“Stay that way. I’ll get back to you.”

Medina hung up and Ben headed back to the den. When he reached for the knob of the den’s partially open door he stopped at hearing R.W. say, “He's willing to sacrifice his family to catch some slime ball.”  

“It strikes me rather strange that you're so angry that Ben opted for a law enforcement career over ranching,” Liz said.

“Does it now?” R.W. replied.

“Yes. You backed him up at the restaurant. Not to mention, if I understand correctly, you're going to get the ranch he would have gotten.” 

“Where you come from in Dallas, everything may be about money, but here in El Paso, we put family first,” R.W. said.

Liz gave a laugh that implied his jibe was juvenile and he was stupid for thinking she'd take the bait. “Is that so?” The condescension in her voice only emphasized her obvious amusement, and when R.W. replied, “That's so,” Ben knew his cousin was too thick-headed to realize he’d met his match.

“Seems to me it's about family as long as family is supporting your point of view,” she said. “You're not supporting Ben's choices. Instead, you're trying to coerce him into doing what you think he should be doing. That's not supporting family, Mr. Hunter. That's being a bully—not to mention, a jerk.” 

“What do you know, R.W.?” Hal said. “She's known you half an hour and already knows you inside out.”  

“You might just be defending a man who sold you out, sweetheart,” R.W. said

Anger tightened Ben's insides. He yanked the door open.

“Maybe,” Liz's assertion stopped him in the doorway, “but he's not
my
cousin.” 

The room went quiet and Ben said, “Looks like she's got you there, R.W.” 

R.W.'s eyes snapped onto him. He opened his mouth, but Ben's father interjected, “R.W., shut up or get out.” 

Liz turned to Ben. “It's time I get back to Dallas.” 

He crossed to the couch. “Actually, I was thinking you'd stay here for a few days.” 

“What? I can't. I have a company to run. Larissa introduced me to a buyer in London. I have a conference call—” Her mouth thinned. “Why didn't you tell me you planned to leak the story to the press?” 

Ben shot R.W. a dark look and said, “We didn't leak the story.” 

“If you didn't, who did?” 

“Someone caught us on video with a cell phone.” 

Liz's “What?” came in unison with R.W.'s “Shit,” and Hal's “Damn.” His father just gave a small shake of his head.

Ben addressed Liz. “I don't have any real details, and—” 

R.W. snorted. “You can't talk about it.” 

“That's right, R.W., I can't.” Not with R.W., Hal, and his father listening. He intended to fill Liz in—privately. Ben returned his attention to her. “There was never any doubt you would have to enter protective custody. You're a witness to attempted murder.” 

“My murder,” she retorted. “And
you
were supposed to be my murderer.” 

“True,” Ben said with a laugh, but was interrupted by Hal's, “Whoa.” 

“It's a long story,” Ben said, then to Liz, “Your testimony can put him away for life. If you're not around, he could walk.” All true, but more important, if they didn't catch him, she would be dead within a week after leaving Ben's sight. 

Her brow lifted. “So you're protecting a witness?” 

“I'm protecting someone that animal will murder the first opportunity he gets.” 

She paled and guilt rolled over him. The thinning of R.W.'s mouth and Hal's sympathetic glance her way didn't help.

Her expression cleared. “Catching him could take a very long time, Mr. Hunter.” 

Ben shook his head. “Not this time.” 

Her eyes narrowed. “You plan to go into Mexico after him. That's suicide.” 

R.W. opened his mouth and Ben said, “Another word from you, R.W., and I'll run you in for interfering with an investigation.” He didn't wait for a reply, but said to Liz, “Going back to Dallas like nothing happened is suicide. I plan to do my job. That doesn’t include going off half-cocked.” She lifted her brows, and he added, “If you recall, I went with Sanchez because I was looking for someone.”

Liz looked stricken. “That's right. I'm sorry.” 

Ben started to reach for her hand, then caught himself. He cursed the glint that entered R.W.’s eyes, and the curiosity on his father's face. “Nothing to be sorry about,” he said.

She released a sigh. “Richard must be in fits.
LaRouche
won't want anything to do with us after this. Nina Bruno is finished.”

“I doubt it's as bad as all that,” Ben said.

Liz met his gaze. “It is. With a video on the news of our running the border, how long do you think it'll be before word gets out that I'm wanted in Mexico for—what was it?— accessory to attempted murder and evasion?” 

He hated to admit it, but she had a point. Even if they managed to conceal the fact that she was supposedly returning to Mexico to face charges, the media was sure to uncover the warrant for her arrest. The truth wouldn't matter one damn bit. Nina Bruno Designs wouldn't be able to keep her on as Creative Director. Ben fleetingly wondered if they could leave her name out of the operation. Worry ratcheted up the tension in his shoulders. He had to lose the audience so he could brief Liz on what Medina had planned. 

“I've got to call Richard,” she said.

Ben nodded, glad for the reprieve. “Just don’t mention where you are. And, Liz, no promises on when you’ll return to Dallas. You can't just waltz back like nothing's happened.” She pursed her lips and he feared she would argue. “Please,” he said, “make the call, but be careful. We'll talk after dinner.” 

Determination hardened her expression and he knew their discussion was going to be a doozie.