through her mind. Her best friend’s phone call asking for help. A few computer searches yielding more questions than answers.
Neither Sierra nor Mallory had expected to be stopped by the police and ambushed, though.
The sound of a vicious smack reverberated around her. Mallory cried out in pain. Desperate, Sierra struggled against her bindings and rolled to her back. Her gaze flashed through the corroded interior of an old van, landing on Mallory’s terrified gaze. The corner of her mouth bled. Even worse, five-year-old Chloe clung to her mother, terror engraved on her face.
No way was Sierra letting anyone be kidnapped—especially not her goddaughter and best friend.
Okay, Sierra. Think.
Chloe whimpered, burying her head against her mother’s side. Hands and feet bound, Mallory scooted her daughter behind her as best she could, away from the man looming over them, a bandanna hiding his face.
“Please,” Mallory said, begging. “Let us go. We won’t say anything. Chloe’s just a little girl.”
“We ain’t letting no one go without the boss’s say-so.”
Sierra shifted just slightly. If she could only get enough leverage. With a shout, she bent her knee and rammed her foot as hard as she could against the guy’s side. The force carried her back. She lost the follow-through.
He grunted and leaped at her. With a loud curse, he let loose and slugged her. Hard. The blow snapped Sierra’s head against the van’s metal floor. “Think you’re smart, don’t you?”
She blinked back the tears of pain. She wouldn’t give these guys the satisfaction of knowing she could barely see after that last crack across her jaw.
He climbed on top of her. “I’ll enjoy teaching you a lesson,” he uttered, his fetid breath close to her ear, wrinkling her nose.
She stilled, staring into his nondescript brown eyes.
He slid the cold metal knife along her throat before tugging the weapon away. “Not so tough now, are you?” He nicked her, and warm blood trickled along her skin.
She stiffened. A wash of white noise enveloped the world, overwhelming her senses. She couldn’t see. She couldn’t hear. Nothing. Oh, God. Nothing.
Sierra fought to stay focused, fought the roar overwhelming her. She blinked, shaking her head against the terrifying, claustrophobic memory. The horrifyingly small closet. No escape. Trapped.
She couldn’t lose herself. Mallory and Chloe needed her. She squeezed her eyes tight and silently recited a half dozen letters of the alphabet backward. The fog cleared a bit.
He checked the rope around her wrists and heaved her across the van’s floor. “The boss’ll want to talk to you.”
“Judson, I didn’t sign up for kidnapping a kid.” A shaking voice filtered from the front of the van.
“Shut up, you idiot.” Judson opened the back of the van. “Get comfortable, you three. We’re going for a one-way ride.”
He chuckled and slammed the door shut. Sierra struggled to a seated position, moving closer to Mallory.
Who are they? she mouthed to Mallory. Buddies of your ex? Would he go this far?
Mallory blinked back tears. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “I thought he was setting me up at work, but this...?”
“No talking!” Judson shouted.
A slide and click echoed behind Sierra. He had a bullet in the chamber now. She’d recognize the sound of a Glock anywhere. Her brothers’ favorite gun.
“Say another word and I won’t wait for the boss.”
“No!” Chloe screamed.
“Shh, Button,” Mallory said. “We’ll be okay.”
“Keep her quiet or I gag you all.”
Judson turned to the driver. “Get us out of here. Slow and steady until we’re outside of San Antonio. We don’t own every cop.”
The engine roared to life. Over Chloe’s head, Sierra met Mallory’s gaze. They had one chance. Sierra’s feet were still free. They couldn’t stay in this van. If they did, she had no doubt they wouldn’t make it out alive.
She edged toward the rear doors.
“Call the boss. Tell him we’ve got an extra passenger. He don’t like surprises.”
The van started forward. They were out of time.
Be ready, she mouthed to Mallory.
After Mallory’s quick nod Sierra pressed herself against the side of the van. She wouldn’t make the same mistake again. She needed the leverage, or they were all dead. She’d only have seconds to kick open the door before Judson killed her.
Tucking her legs, she aimed for the door and hit the lock with the heel of her boot. Once. Twice. The metal snapped. The door flew open.
“Come on!” Sierra rocketed out of the moving van, taking a roll, scraping her arm on the asphalt.
She looked up. Mallory struggled to nudge Chloe out with her body, but the girl didn’t move. Desperation painted her mother’s face.
“You can do it, Chloe,” Mallory cried, squirming to the van’s edge. “Jump.”
The little girl shook her head. Fear froze her.
Sierra stumbled to her feet, racing toward the van. “Come on, Chloe!”
The van screeched to a halt. Mallory and Chloe tumbled backward.
“Go, Sierra!” Mallory yelled. “Run.”
Sierra kept coming. She had to help them, but the two men jumped from the van, their feet hitting the highway. They slammed the door closed. Mallory and Chloe were trapped.
If Sierra went back, they’d all be caught. A gunshot exploded into the night. A bullet struck near her feet, then a hot burn pierced her thigh. She had no choice. She zigzagged down the highway, away from her best friend, praying her movements would offer Mallory another chance to escape.
Veering to the side of the road, she dived into a patch of tall grass. Headlights flashed. A semi sounded its horn at the van blocking the road. The big truck slowed.
The van took off with a squeal of tires, its mud-covered license plate useless.
Sierra fought against the pain and stumbled back to the asphalt. She ran to the edge of the road yelling, praying the trucker would see her. He drove past. She sank to her knees, blood covering her right leg.
A hiss of brakes sounded, and the semi pulled over.
She looked up as a man ran toward her.
“Mallory. Chloe,” she whispered. And passed out.
* * *
MERTZON, TEXAS, WASN’T on the way to anywhere. Just the way Rafe Vargas liked it. He pulled his truck past the town’s three restaurants. Each window had gone dark, a large Closed sign blinking the news. Sunday night. He should’ve known better than to think he’d find a restaurant open.
Rafe’s stomach rumbled. After a day of training to keep his combat moves sharp, he’d been hankering for a greasy burger with onion rings. Nothing better at a small-town diner. Oh, well. Not as if he wasn’t used to disappointment. He turned off toward the Mertzon Inn, a small hole-in-the-wall motel. He appreciated the location several blocks off Highway 67. Out of the way, not obvious.
He’d situated himself a couple hours from Carder, Texas, the headquarters for CTC. He liked working for Covert Technology Confidential. He liked helping people in trouble who had nowhere else to turn. He liked using the deadly skills Uncle Sam had drilled into him for the right reasons. But he also appreciated staying far enough away from headquarters that he