Abducted:Reconnaissance Team (Texas Rangers: Special Ops) (10 page)

Ben reached for her hand and covered it with his. “Liz, it's no joking matter.” 

Her mouth parted in surprise and she dropped her gaze. He knew she wasn't being coy, which made the feminine response all the more compelling. Arousal hit like lightning.

“It's over, Ben,” she murmured. “We can put it behind us.” 

He squeezed her hand, then released her. “Not quite over, honey.” 

Her head lifted and she met his gaze. “What is it?” 

Ben followed a car through the intersection and began telling her about the FBI's latest and greatest plan.

When he finished, she said, “Sounds insane.” 

“That's what I think. Just remember, they can't make you do anything.” 

“I'm assuming they can't actually make you do anything, either,” she said. “But they can cause you a great deal of trouble.” 

“They can try,” Ben said, as he passed a car to his left. “Which isn't to say they'll succeed. It's a shame, but we butt heads with the Feds more often than not. This could be one big bluff, or even part of some bigger plan they're not letting us in on. We'll know more once my boss talks with the chief.” She didn't answer and he added, “I won't let them hurt you. And I sure as hell won’t let Sanchez hurt you.” 

Liz gave a small laugh. “Catch Mr. Sanchez without getting yourself killed and that'll solve our problems.” 

“Yes, ma'am. Now, no more business talk for the rest of the evening. I think we both deserve a night off. Right now, I want to talk about you. What got you into fashion design and why don’t you have a husband?” 

“Are you always the detective?” 

“Sometimes I play a fashion model.” He flashed his most winning grin.

She grimaced. “But not very well.” 

“I fooled you,” he said. Had she fooled him?

“You didn’t fool me for long,” she replied. “I studied architecture in college. Fashion is all about line and art and holding stuff in place, so the move was a natural one for me.” 

He’d wondered how she had held herself
in place
in that dress last night. Every time he’d looked her way, he half expected her to fall out. “I guess that’s the point.” 

“What point?” 

“Never mind,” he said. “You were telling me why you're not married.” 

“I met a guy, he was ROTC, and that was it.” 

“It?” 

“He graduated and I followed him to officer training, and then to Fort Bragg. Then he shipped out.” 

Ben caught the hitch in her voice. Damn, he hated unhappy endings. He could picture it. A young soldier, officer, and his fiancé saying goodbye right before he boarded a big gray airplane, maybe at Eglin or Travis. The man wore fatigues and Liz a summer dress.

“I’m sorry, Liz.” 

“It was a long time ago.” She studied him. “You look a little like Jack. Funny, I hadn’t noticed that before.” 

Ben slowed and turned into the restaurant parking lot. “I’d have to find out what happened before I know if that’s good or bad.”  

“It’s good.”

The soft note in her voice pulled at his heart and heated his blood enough to make him wish they were back in her hotel room.

“Jack came back from that deployment and we married,” she said. “He got shipped out, came back, shipped out, came back, and one day he shipped out and didn't come back.

“Damn, Liz,” Ben murmured.

“
He was going to start a new career in law enforcement. I wanted to breed Basset Hounds.”

When they entered the restaurant, the hostess smiled and asked if there would be two for dinner. Ben nodded, then caught sight of two men sitting at a table near the kitchen. He fleetingly wondered if he could get Liz out of the restaurant before the men spotted them, but the one facing them looked up. The other twisted and looked over his shoulder. A determined light glinted in the second man’s eyes and Ben cursed his rotten luck—and his judgment in choosing a restaurant he knew his cousin favored.

Both men rose and Ben slipped an arm around Liz’s waist. “Brace yourself, honey.”  

She looked at him. “What?” 

The men approached and her attention shifted from Ben to them.

“Well, well,” the second man said. “Fancy seeing you here.” 

“How are you, R.W?” Ben looked at the other man. “Hal.” 

R.W. studied Liz. “I don’t recall seeing you around El Paso, sweetheart.” 

“That’s because I’m from Dallas.” 

He shifted his attention to Ben. “You haven’t returned my calls.” 

“I’ve been busy. It’s good to see you, R.W., you too, Hal, but Liz and I have plans that don’t include you two.” Ben steered her toward the waiting hostess.

“Is everything all right?” Liz asked. “Who are those men?” 

“Didn’t Ben tell you, darlin’?” 

“R.W.,” Hal said in a low voice.

Ben tightened his hold on Liz’s waist, but she twisted to look back at R.W, and Ben gave in. “Hold that table,” he told the hostess, then turned.

R.W.’s gaze settled on him. “I’m the man who’s going to inherit his daddy’s ranch if Ben doesn’t quit fooling around and get himself back home.” 

Ben opened his mouth to reply, but Liz said, “Does
fooling around
refer to his law enforcement career?” 

R.W.’s eyes slid back to Liz. “That’s what it means.” 

She looked at Ben. “Is this joker serious?” 

Ben couldn’t prevent a laugh. Hal didn’t successfully stifle his laughter, either.

“He’s serious,” Ben said.

“This
joker
has a message from your daddy.” 

“R.W.,” Ben began.

“He wants to see you.” 

“I’ll stop by in a week or so,” Ben said.

“I don’t think that’s the answer he wants.” 

Ben shifted his attention onto Hal. John ‘Hal’ Halloway was second in charge of the Lazy F Ranch—after R.W. He was a straight shooter and wasn’t prone to  R.W.’s dramatics.

“Talk to him, Hal. I don’t intend to ruin this evening with a public brawl.” 

Two patrons entered the restaurant and the hostess motioned them to follow her. Ben urged Liz a step forward as the two guests brushed past…and noticed a black SUV pull into a parking spot in the outside lot.

“What is it?” Liz asked.

The SUV’s door opened and a tall man got out. The hint of a bulge in his waistband confirmed what Ben instinctively knew. The man started toward the rear of the vehicle and seconds later a second man appeared from the driver’s side. They weren't the men he’d met last night, but he would bet a month’s mortgage they were Sanchez’s men, which meant they'd followed him and Liz from the hotel. How had Sanchez found her? Maybe followed her from Larissa’s office? Damn it, that had to be the answer.

Ben made a mental note of the license plate number, then turned his attention to R.W. “Let’s go right now.” He looked at Liz. “You won’t get a better steak than at the Lazy F.” 

“Then why did you bring me here?” 

“I’ve really got to remember how smart you are.” He faced R.W. and Hal. “I’m talking
now
.” 

R.W.’s eyes narrowed. “Who you running from, boy?”

“Men you don’t want to tangle with. Men who will hurt Liz.” 

“Wouldn’t be those boys who just got out of that black Suburban, would they?” 

“That’s them. Now get her out of here.” 

“Nope,” R.W. said.

Ben started to argue.

“You’re coming with us. I’m not telling your daddy I left you to get shot. Besides, you can’t fight them in this restaurant. “

“Did I ever tell you that you’re a pain the ass, R.W.?” 

“Yep.” 

“You want to meet us around back?” Ben said.

“Hal,” R.W. said, but Hal was already pulling some bills from the front pocket of his jeans. “Honey,” he said to a passing waitress.

“We'll send someone for your truck,” Hal said.

“Hold up on that,” Ben said.

Hal raised a brow, but Ben shook his head. He didn't want to explain anything and, more important, those two men might provide the lead they'd been hoping for.

Hal shrugged and Ben grasped Liz’s arm. “Come on.” He started toward the rear of the restaurant. R.W. followed.

“I really wasn’t planning on meeting the family,” she said as Ben hurried her down the aisle.

“You’re already halfway there.” They reached the kitchen door and pushed through. “R.W. is my cousin and Hal is the brother I never had.” 

R.W. grunted.

“You didn’t think you were the brother I never had, did you?” Ben asked R.W.

The chef paused, a steak held suspended over the fire grill, and frowned at them.

“Where’s the delivery entrance?” Ben asked.

The chef’s frown deepened.

“The back door?” Ben said.

He nodded to a door to his far right. “That door leads to the rear parking lot.” 

Ben grasped Liz's hand and hurried to the door with R.W. close behind. Ben eased open the door and saw Hal turn the corner in his Blue Silverado.

He pulled up and Ben loaded her in the back seat, then pulled his cell phone from his jeans pocket as he climbed in after her. R.W. got in the front seat and they took off. Ben hit the number for Captain Medina, then put an arm around Liz and pulled her low in the seat when Hal turned the corner of the building. She laid a hand on his chest and his heart jumpstarted. He concentrated on the phone’s ring.

Medina picked up on ring three. “Medina.” 

“Captain, it’s Hunter. I just spotted two men I’m sure work for Sanchez. They’re at The Charcoal Grill on Gateway Boulevard.” 

Hal left the parking lot and Liz tried to straighten. Ben tightened his hold and gave Medina the rundown, along with the license plate number. Medina said he’d have two Rangers track the men. Ben started to tell his boss not to let the Feds in on this new development, then thought better of it. Medina wouldn't hand over information to the FBI any sooner than he had to, and the last thing Ben needed was his family to know he had federal law enforcement on his tail.

“Where are you headed?” the captain asked as they reached a light.

Ben glanced in the mirror. No sign of the SUV. “I’ll fill you in on that later.” He loosened his hold on Liz and she sat up as Hal accelerated through the light. “I figure they followed us from the hotel,” Ben said into the phone. “I didn’t see a tail, but that's the only answer. They might have followed her from Larissa Remmey’s office.” Ben hoped that was the case. He didn’t like the idea that Sanchez had enough connections to have tracked her there on his own. But, he realized, Sanchez could as easily have someone on Larissa Remmey’s staff on his payroll.  

“I'd say about now they're running your plates,” Medina said.

“Good thing I'm driving the truck registered to Adam.” 

“I'll be sure to thank those Federal boys. We'll have to let the truck get towed. You can't chance going back for it. There's no telling who might report to Sanchez.” 

“Right, Captain.”  

“Don’t make me come looking for you,” Medina said. 

“You’ve got this number,” Ben said. “I want to know anything you find out about those two. If there’s any chance they’ll lead us to Sanchez, I want in on it.” 

“I’ll call you.” Medina hung up.

“Carlos Sanchez.” R.W. said before Ben had the phone back in his pocket. “You’re going to get yourself killed.” 

“He’s going to catch a human traffics dealer,” Liz snapped, as if talking to a child, then looked at him. “I guess it was a mistake to go see Larissa.”

He started to say he wasn’t sure that her visit to Larissa had tipped off Sanchez to their location, but she was too smart for that lie. “Probably,” he said.  She released a sigh, and he added. “I guess the date’s ruined.” 

She nodded. “I wonder why they didn’t just wait for us to return to the hotel. Maybe they know you have someone watching. When you picked me up, they might have figured this was their best chance to get us.”

R.W. twisted in his seat and looked at her, then Ben. “You sure she’s not a Ranger?”

“She would make a good one,” Ben said.  

Her mouth twisted. “Just because I don't know who you had watching me, doesn't mean I didn’t know you had someone there.” 

“Damn,” Hal muttered, and Ben had to agree.

“It’s a damn good thing she’s on your side,” R.W. said. His eyes shifted to Liz. “You are on his side, right?” 

She kept her attention on Ben, ignoring R.W. “That still doesn’t explain why they didn’t wait for us somewhere less conspicuous than a restaurant.” 

“It’s hard to say,” Ben replied. “They might have figured I wouldn’t peg them as Sanchez’s men, or they might have hoped to catch you alone.” 

She gave a slow nod. “If I visited the ladies room…”  

“It could be they were just going to have a look around,” he said. “If we hadn’t been standing at the front of the restaurant, I wouldn't have seen them in the parking lot.” 

She gave him a penetrating look and surprised him by saying, “I'm a minor annoyance. It's you they really want. Mr. Sanchez has got to be furious that you duped him.” Before Ben could comment, she added, “But if they had me, that would be a way to get to you.” 

“It would tip Sanchez's hand in his favor,” Ben answered carefully. “But that's not going to happen.” 

She snorted. “You won't get any argument from me. Being kidnapped once in a lifetime is once too many. So what do we do now?” 

Ben grinned. “Have that steak.”  

* * *

Liz had known the evening wasn’t going to be as simple as
having a steak
. It wasn’t the massive ranch house or the large den they entered that confirmed the nagging suspicion, but the man who rose from the leather couch as she and Ben approached. There was no doubt this was Ben’s father: Tall and muscled like his son, with a liberal dose of gray in his dark hair. She estimated him to be fifty-five-years-old, a man who easily could have been her date tonight. The man she
should
have been with tonight.

Ben’s arm tightened around her waist in an encouraging squeeze and she could have killed him. He’d known all along she would be meeting his father.

“Dad.” Ben nodded at him. “This is—” 

“Liz Monahan.” 

Her pulse sped up.

“Your connections are good, Dad, but not that good,” Ben said. “How’d you know?” 

“It’s all over the news.” 

“The news?” she blurted.

“What are you talking about?” Ben demanded.

“Your race across the border, hit the local news half an hour ago,” his father replied. “I haven’t checked CNN yet.” 

“My God.” Liz looked at Ben.

His mouth thinned, but before he could respond, his phone rang. He pulled it from his jeans pocket, glanced at the display, then said, “My boss. Excuse me.” He turned away and accepted the call as he stepped from the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

“Would you like to sit down, Ms. Monahan?” his father asked.

Liz thanked him and sat on the couch, glad to be off her legs, which suddenly felt like rubber.

“Would you like a drink?” he asked.

“A drink sounds just right about now.” 

“Brandy all right, or would you prefer white wine?” 

“Brandy, please,” she said.

He crossed to the sideboard. Her attention snagged on three photographs hanging over the large fireplace. The succession of photographs from left to right created one large panorama of a rugged, snowcapped mountain range beyond an expanse of brush-covered desert floor. Thick, cotton-white clouds created a stark contrast to the sharp angles that jutted skyward.

Ben's father returned and handed her a crystal tumbler of brandy.

“Thank you,” Liz said.

He sat on the far end of the couch and she took a healthy swallow of her drink. The slight burn as the liquor slid down her throat was welcome. She leaned back against the cushion.

“Your work?” She nodded toward the photographs. “They're spectacular.” 

“Not mine,” he replied. “Ben's.” 

“Ben?” she blurted, then flushed.

“Surprising, isn't it?” he asked.

Warmth spread up her cheeks. “I haven't known your son long, but yes, you don't expect a law enforcement officer to be an artist.” She smiled. “Ben didn't tell me your name.”