Hunted (FBI Heat Book 1) (10 page)

Ben read the report about the overnight surveillance of the halfway house east of Alpine. It could be summarized in three words: no one home.

Scowling, he shoved his fingers through his hair. This was good news, right? He should feel reassured. If Loco had shown up with a truck full of illegals, the schedule they were counting on the coyote to follow would’ve been blown to hell. Yeah, it was definitely good news. However, it didn’t eliminate the possibility that the property could be abandoned at any time in favor of another location. Predictability was not a criminal’s friend.

He glanced at his watch. The one p.m. meeting to discuss his plan for the Thursday op would start in fifteen minutes. The excitement of meaningful progress in the investigation had amped up every nerve in his body. Too bad they couldn’t make a move sooner. Slow and easy wasn’t his style. He knew how to be patient when necessary, but he liked fast and furious all the way. At work, at least. Not with everything.

He grinned. Fast and furious was what Amber had wanted last night. Again and again and again. Of course, he’d been happy to oblige, but he wondered about the reason for the change of pace from their first night together.

His grin turned to a frown. Had she been trying to get her fill of him before she bolted?
Possibly.
At least he knew she’d been at the Dream Makers clinic today when he’d made the call she requested. Before taking his message, the receptionist had confirmed Amber was there. But keeping her appointment at the clinic didn’t mean she’d be at his apartment when he got home tonight. By then, she could be on her way to anywhere.

No, he refused to believe she’d run, not after the way she responded to him. God, she was beautiful and sexy. And he couldn’t get enough of her either. His dick stirred in agreement.
Down, boy.
He gave himself a mental shake. This living arrangement was strictly temporary, only until they caught Jeremy. Ben wasn’t in the market for a serious, long-term relationship. Hell, he’d just recovered from his last one with Marissa.

As if on cue, his cell sounded with her ringtone. Somehow, the coincidence didn’t surprise him.

“Hey, Gypsy.”

“Benja, Maria is in prison with many other women.” The words spilled from Marissa with no time wasted on normal greetings.

“Prison?”

“Yes. They cannot leave because of the armed guards, and they are locked in their rooms. But it does not look like a prison.”

He struggled to get on the same wavelength. “What does it look like?”

She hesitated. “A one-star hotel.”

Ben laughed. “You’re messin’ with me.”

“No, Benja, I’m serious.” Another pause. “I saw it.”

All humor and disbelief disappeared. She’d had a premonition.

“It worked, Benja, just like you hoped. Since talking to Pedro, all I could think of was how losing Maria was causing him so much pain. I wished I could help more. And then, a few minutes ago, I saw this place in my mind. It’s good, right?”

“Yeah, definitely good. Tell me more.”

She exhaled. “This prison, this place is near the ocean. The building is old, run-down. There are two floors, and the women are kept on the second story.”

“Is it a whorehouse?”

“No, no. The only men are the guards. No johns.” She paused. “Wait. There are also men in white coats.”

He frowned. “Doctors?”

“Yes, yes, doctors.”

“The women are sick?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t look like a hospital. Only regular beds. But yes, there is some medical equipment in a couple rooms on the first floor.”

“A psychiatric hospital maybe. Not that an asylum makes sense to me either. None of the men said anything about the kidnapped women having medical problems.”

“I just tell you what I see.”

“I appreciate it, Gypsy. I just don’t know how it fits into the puzzle.”

* * *

Amber took so long to recover that Dr. Ortega cocked his head while waiting. Thank goodness she’d worn a disguise, or he surely would’ve recognized her too. If she wasn’t careful, he might even recognize her voice. Wouldn’t that be awkward? Or something worse…

Putting her hand over her mouth, she coughed and cleared her throat. “I’m Amber
Moore
,” she croaked, stressing the fake last name.

He peered intently into her eyes, but with the hazel contacts, he couldn’t possibly make the connection.
Right?

“Good to see you, Dr. Ortega,” Mr. Juarez said. “I was just showing Mrs. Moore out.”

He took her by the arm and urged her down the hall. After saying good-bye, he left her in the reception area.

What in the world is going on?
She gave her head a shake. It didn’t clear the fog, but she did have an idea.

She stepped to the receptionist’s window with a big smile. The young woman looked up, nervous as usual.

“Thank you for passing on the message from my husband. He’s in deep shit for missing this meeting.”

The receptionist’s eyes widened, and then she laughed. “Mr. Moore is in biiig trouble.”

She nodded. “I was a little rattled after the news and forgot to ask Mr. Juarez if there’s information available on the medical staff. I just met Dr. Ortega in the hallway and that reminded me.”

“Oh, sure.” She picked a glossy flyer from a stack on her desk and handed it through the window. “This only covers the two reproductive endocrinologists and the three obstetricians, not the techs and nurses.”

She glanced down at the paper and saw the handsome face of “Dr. Ortega” smiling back at her. “This is perfect. Thank you so much.”

The rest of the afternoon at SDSA passed unbearably slowly. She so wanted to share the information she’d learned at Dream Makers with her boss, especially since she knew Laura had also previously met the man now pretending to be Dr. Ortega. However, without current information on the status of the charges against him in Texas or concrete proof of any wrongdoing here, she thought better of it. Simply moving to San Diego and changing his name wasn’t a crime. But the appearance of Dr. Ortega definitely added a new element, possibly a dangerous, illegal one. Before she could form conclusions or make accusations, she needed to research him. The Internet would provide a lot of what she needed, but a few well-placed phone calls might be faster.

Of all days, she had not one cancellation the entire afternoon. No blocks of time opened up for her to pursue her quest. Finally she completed the last procedure and hurried to the employee lounge to grab her purse and sign out.

Her boss walked in just as she was preparing to leave. “Amber, could you step into my office for a minute?” Her expression bore the evidence of bad news.

Oh shit, I’m getting fired.
Her heart lodged in her throat, requiring her to swallow several times before she could answer. “Sure.”

Laura led the way down the hall to the office and then closed the door behind her.

“Have a seat,” Laura said, while taking the other guest chair instead of sitting behind the desk.

Amber dropped into the seat beside her.

The “office mother” let out a long breath through pursed lips and stared at her hands. “I have bad news.”

She gulped. “It’s okay, Laura. I understand.”

“Good. Because I sure as hell don’t.” She raised glistening eyes to meet Amber’s. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am to lose you, but Friday will be your last day.”

“Not today?”

“Heavens no, honey. But if you want to use the rest of the week to look for a new job, you go right ahead. I’ll rearrange the schedule. With so many cancellations, I’m sure one of the other nurses would be available.” She managed a wan smile. “And trust me, we’ll pay you whether you’re here or not.” She let out a heavy sigh. “I feel so awful about this.”

Amber shrugged. “It’s not your fault. I may take you up on your offer, though, to use this week to look for another job.”
Or to figure out how Dream Makers is putting us out of business.

Thirty minutes later, she parked on the street, instead of in the garage, and walked through the front entrance into the Coronado Beach complex as if she were a visitor instead of a resident. Before leaving SDSA, she’d pulled on jeans and a sweater over her scrubs and added the auburn wig and large sunglasses, which she’d also worn to work. On the drive home, she’d made sure she hadn’t been followed.

She stood in the shadows near the complex office, her gaze traveling slowly over the entire area, searching for any signs of Jeremy. She longed to check her door to see if it’d been tampered with, but Ben had urged her to stay away from her own apartment unless he accompanied her.

Not seeing any of Jeremy’s telltale clues, she climbed the stairs and opened Ben’s door with the spare key he’d given her last night. She immediately secured both locks and then peeked through the living room window. Nothing looked out of the ordinary.

She leaned back against the door and admired Ben’s modest and masculine living room. Last night, she’d been too upset to take much notice.

Despite the same beige carpet and white walls as her apartment, the rich dark brown and forest green of his furnishings added warmth and character. The place was neat, yet lived-in. In addition to the requisite large TV and related electronic devices, he had framed pictures of people—family, probably—on the walls and end tables. She liked that glimpse into his heart.

She drew a deep breath through her nose. Yes, the room held just a hint of his cologne. Musky, masculine, sensuous. She liked that too.

Her throat grew tight, and tears welled. If she wasn’t careful, she’d like the whole damn package too much.

* * *

Ben circled the neighborhood a second time looking for the white Jeep Cherokee that Mailbox Man, aka Jeremy, had driven after Ben chased him out of the apartment complex. Now that he knew the vehicle had a Kansas license plate, identifying it would be easier. But if the bastard was as smart as Amber thought, he would be driving a rental after being spotted. To cover that possibility, Ben also watched for anyone bearing a resemblance to the man in the picture Amber had given him.

Part of him hoped the guy was hanging around. If Ben caught him, Amber’s nightmare would be over. It would also give him a chance to teach the asshole a lesson in manners, specifically not to hassle women through stalking or otherwise. His palms itched to get a hold of Jeremy Nelson.

After his search of the neighborhood turned up nothing, he parked in the garage. Instead of heading straight to his apartment, he made a complete circuit of the property. Casual on the outside, intense on the inside, he inspected every corner, every shadow. Still, nothing.

Frustrated with no results, he stomped up the stairs and into his apartment. Mouthwatering aromas greeted him. Soft music played on the stereo he rarely used. The room was dark except for a candle flickering on the small table in the dining area.
Wonder where Amber found that.
Damn, it felt good not to come home to a silent, empty apartment. A blanket of contentment settled over him, and he had to squash the urge to call,
Babe, I’m home.

Instead, he set his computer case on the table by the door and strolled quietly to the kitchen. He turned the corner and came face-to-face with a can of pepper spray. “Shit!”

“Jesus, Ben, were you trying to scare the crap out of me?” Amber cried, lowering her weapon. “Why didn’t you say something or call my name when you came in?”

“Maybe because I live here. Who were you expecting?”

“Jeremy, of course.”

He pulled her into his arms, hugged her tight, and buried his nose in her great-smelling hair. “If you were careful, he doesn’t know you’re here. You had both locks secured. He couldn’t have gotten in if he tried.” He nibbled on her ear. “Relax, babe. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

They ate at the small, wooden table with only the candle for light. The flickering flame cast a sexy glow and seductive shadows across Ben’s chiseled features. A fine layer of dark stubble gave him an air of rebellion, and the intense blue of his eyes pierced the darkness like laser beams. Amber posted the images in the scrapbook of her memory.

“This spaghetti is delicious,” he said, looking up from his plate. “You used the jar of sauce from the cupboard, so why does it taste so much better than when I make it?”

“You know all those little bottles in the funny metal rack? I used a bunch of them to doctor the sauce.”

He chuckled. “Ah, so that’s what they’re for. My mom gave me that crazy thing when I got my first apartment. I never use them, because I don’t know sage from paprika. If I threw it away, though, I’m afraid she’d notice it was gone.”

Amber laughed. “You’re a good son.”

He shrugged. “They’re good parents.” He eyed her over the wine goblet. “Any news at work?”

“Yeah. Friday’s my last day. The more interesting part of today was the meeting at Dream Makers,” she added quickly to stave off any unemployment pity on his part. “Thanks again for making the call.”

He studied her a moment as if wondering why she didn’t want to discuss being laid off, but then decided against pursuing the topic. “No problem. Did it work?”

She took a sip of wine to fortify her courage. “Um, yeah. But…”

Amber hesitated so long that he set his fork down and waited for her to continue.

“What’s wrong, babe?”

The concern on his face emboldened her. “I’m not exactly sure. Well, one thing really has me worried, and the other is just something sort of odd about the surrogate mothers.”

He picked up his fork again and took a bite. “Let’s work on the ‘worried’ one first.”

She drew a deep breath. “I met one of their reproductive endocrinologists.”

“English translation, please.”

“A doctor. In this case, a specialist in in vitro fertilization—IVF, for short.”

“Okay. Continue.”

“He was introduced as Dr. Ortega, but I met him about a year ago as Dr. Raul Garcia.”

Ben sipped his wine. “You’re sure it’s the same guy?”

“Positive. He’s hard to forget because he’s drop-dead gorgeous.”

He arched his eyebrows. “Should I be jealous?”

“No. You’re drop-dead gorgeous-er.”

He snorted. “Go on about Dr. Gorgeous.”

“I met Raul… er… Dr. Garcia at a fertility conference in Houston. He was a well-respected doctor at a local clinic and part of the conference-organizing committee along with Laura Eldridge, my current boss.”

“So Dr. Garcia’s a big shot.”

“Yeah. He… uh…” She blinked and looked away. “I helped with some of the panels so we… saw each other quite a bit.”

“When did he hit on you?”

Her gaze snapped back. She wanted to be irritated, but the flush warming her cheeks was from embarrassment, not anger. “The first night.”

Ben’s eyes narrowed. “Did something… bad happen?”

“No, no, no.” She exhaled. “He was a nice enough guy, just annoyingly persistent.”

“Did you report him for sexual harassment?”

“Oh God, no. You’re getting the wrong idea. Why are you…?” Her mouth gaped. He was genuinely jealous.
Oh my God.
Jealousy could be such a negative emotion, but right now, it was really sexy.
Focus, focus.

“What happened?” he prompted.

“
Nothing
happened. It’s just that we spent enough time together that I know absolutely, positively, this Dr. Ortega is that Dr. Garcia.”

“Okay, so stipulated. Go on.” Ben closed his eyes as he savored another bite of spaghetti.

“It’s what happened after the conference that has me freaking out. I read he was arrested for writing illegal prescriptions.”

Ben’s fork stopped halfway to his mouth. “Why isn’t he in jail?”

“After I got home today, I made a quick call to a former colleague in Texas who also attended the Houston conference. She said Dr. Garcia disappeared after he got out on bail. He’s still a… fugitive.”

“You got a picture of this guy?”

She pulled the Dream Makers sheet about the doctors from her pants pocket and handed it to Ben. He shook his head while he stared at the picture of Dr. Ortega/Garcia.

“Holy shit,” he muttered.

“What? You know about him?”

“No. But I know a helluva lot about someone he looks like. You’re sure this guy really is a doctor?”

“Well, I never looked up his license or diplomas, but wouldn’t someone have done that in the investigation prior to his arrest?”

“Yeah. Definitely.”

She stood up and came around to stand behind him and look down at the photo. “Are you going to tell me who he looks like, or is it a big, bad FBI secret?”

“I need to square it with my boss first.” He craned his neck to peer up at her. “Are you going back to that clinic again?”

She placed her hands on his shoulders and massaged gently. “I thought you’d never ask.” She smiled sweetly. “I need a favor.”

“Good. So do I. You first.”

“Okay. Will you be my husband?”

* * *

Ben couldn’t believe his ears, but Amber looked dead serious. His eyes narrowed. This had to be a joke, not a proposal. “Excuse me?”

“I need a husband.” She rolled her eyes. “Relax, Ben. A fake one.”

He tried to hide his relief. “I guess my call today was my audition.”

“Honestly, I didn’t plan it this way. But no one at Dream Makers will talk to me if I show up without my husband again.”

Ben looked at the picture and scowled. Could he be mistaken? The resemblance was amazing and almost unbelievable. No, there had to be a connection, a blood relationship. The gears in his brain kicked into overdrive.

“Fine. Sign me up. How soon can we get in?”

“Probably tomorrow. I don’t have to go into work unless I want to. I think my time would be better spent on this.”

“‘This’ may be even bigger than you think.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’ll talk as soon as I get the okay from my boss.”

He carried his dishes from the table before hurrying to his home office with his cell and the flyer to call Rex. Amber’s puzzled expression had showed concern, but he really couldn’t involve her without authorization.

“Don’t you ever take a break from the case, Alfren?” his boss answered. “You need a girlfriend.”

“Working on it. The girlfriend, I mean.”

Rex chuckled. “Good to know. What’s up?”

“My work-in-progress girlfriend showed me a picture of a doctor who works at Dream Makers, a surrogacy clinic.”

His boss snorted. “A surrogacy clinic? I don’t even want to know.”

“Not
that kind
of surrogacy.” Ben huffed. “The doctor is the spittin’ image of Enrique Hermosillo.”

Rex’s tone turned serious. “What’s this doctor’s name?”

“He goes by Dr. Ortega, but Amber believes his real name is Raul Garcia.”

“Amber is your—”

“Yeah.” He groaned. Nothing like talking to your boss about your love life.

“How sure is she that it’s Garcia?”

“Damn sure. And Dr. Raul Garcia is in the wind from an illegal prescriptions charge in Texas.”

“I don’t remember a doctor in H’s family,” Rex said.

“I don’t either. But they’ve got to be related to look so much alike.”

“Figure it out. Supposedly, we all have a body double somewhere on this planet. Don’t want to go chasing down some innocent look-alike.”

“Understood. My gut tells me this could be H’s new business.”

“Seems like a natural extension: illegal street drugs to illegal prescription drugs. He’s got the mule system to transport anything he wants.”

“He’s got the mules, but he didn’t have a doctor to write the prescriptions. Until he convinced his relative to come work for him. Probably gave Dr. Garcia the new identity and everything,” Ben said.

“So the fugitive doctor uses the surrogacy clinic as a front. It’s really all about trafficking in Oxy or whatever.”

Ben considered a moment. “They must do some legitimate surrogate mother work, because Dream Makers is taking business away from Amber’s clinic.”

“Wonder how they hide it from the legit employees.”

“She says the place has a weird vibe, like the workers are tense or even afraid. Sounds to me like the place is locked down pretty tight. I want to take a look myself.”

“Good idea. Under what guise?”

He cleared his throat. “As Amber’s husband.”

Rex snickered. “Damn, I’d like to be a fly on the wall for that.”

Ben bristled. “It’s the logical ruse.”

“Especially if you’re already playing house,” Rex said and chuckled.

Jesus, was his boss psychic? He grimaced. “Am I authorized to discuss the op with Amber?”

“Only on a need-to-know basis.”

“Understood. First thing tomorrow, I’ll get Dillon to research a family connection between H and Raul Garcia. I’ll focus on getting into the clinic.”

After the call, he found Amber web-surfing on her laptop in the living room.

“Dinner was delicious. Thanks, babe. Sorry you got stuck cleaning up. I won’t make a habit of hiding in my office.”

“No problem. Can you tell me your big, bad FBI secret now?”

“Some of it.” He sat down beside her on the couch. “You can’t repeat this to anyone. Okay?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“I think Garcia is related to a drug cartel kingpin we’ve been trying to bring down for ages. The clinic could be a front for illegal prescriptions like Garcia was doing in Texas. But this time, it’s for a cartel, which means selling on a bigger scale. I want to go with you tomorrow and sniff out the place.”

She splayed a hand on her chest. “Oh my God. A drug cartel hiding behind a surrogate mother clinic. That’s just wrong.”

“On so many levels.”

“Seriously, this is unbelievable. I mean, I’m worried about unfair competition and the proper care of their surrogate mothers, but the whole time, it’s really about drugs. It just sucks! And you’re talking about dangerous criminals. Drug cartels
kill
people. Oh my God.”

He took her trembling hand from her chest and wrapped it in both of his. “Relax, babe. I’ll be right there with you.”

She inhaled and exhaled, slowly, several times. “Okay, I can do this. While you’re sniffing, I’ll ask the rest of the questions I have about their legitimate business.”

“Sounds good.”

“You know what else would be good?” A seductive smile appeared. “I could use a little stress relief.”

He pulled her into his arms. “I like the way you think.”

His tongue teased her lips open while his fingers unbuttoned her blouse. Cupping her breasts, he circled her nipples with his thumbs until they pushed against the silky fabric of her bra. They weren’t the only body parts hardening. His dick swelled to the point of pain.

“Gotta lose these damn pants.”

“Let me help.”

He stood up and faced her. After removing his pants, she slid his boxer briefs down his hips. Slowly. Until his dick sprang free. She opened her mouth and then flicked the tip of her tongue across the head. His cock jerked in response. Wrapping her fingers around the hard shaft, she pumped half a dozen times.

Ben threw his head back and groaned.

Her mouth closed around him. Her hands reached behind to his ass and pulled him closer. With a mind of their own, his hips thrust forward. When her sucking brought him to the edge, he pulled back.

“Lie down,” he ordered.

He rolled on a condom from his wallet while watching Amber remove her shorts and panties. Damn, she was hot.

Not taking time to remove the rest of their clothing, he positioned himself between her legs. He pressed his dick to her opening and found her hot and wet. She raised her hips and slid onto the head. Unable to hold back any longer, he plunged inside.

She wrapped her legs around him, pumping her hips in rhythm with his. He captured her lips with a demanding kiss. And when she climaxed, her cry filled his mouth. He followed her over the edge.

An hour later, Ben lay back on the pillow. They’d moved to the bed and made love again. Naked. Slower. More tenderly. The “stress relief” had worked, for Amber lay limp and relaxed next to him. If he didn’t have a big day ahead of him tomorrow, he’d make love to her all night.

But he needed to wind down and get to sleep. He released a long breath and closed his eyes. Turning off his brain always proved more difficult than relaxing his body. And the week ahead gave him plenty to think about.

Waiting until Thursday for the raids to rescue the kidnapped women would’ve driven him crazy. Thankfully, investigating Dr. Garcia, aka Dr. Ortega, would insert a little fast and furious action in the meantime. Although it didn’t have anything to do with the missing girls, this opportunity was important, especially if it offered a better path to trapping H. Proving the bastard’s new business venture was illegal prescriptions would be quite a coup. And if he also helped Amber save her clinic, all the better.

Something she’d said during dinner came to mind. In the excitement about Dr. Garcia, apparently she’d forgotten about it also.

“Hey, babe. What was the odd thing about the surrogate mothers that you wanted to tell me?”

Amber’s soft, even breathing was her only answer.