Barb Han - Hard Target

She nodded.

He climbed into the driver’s side, put the key in the ignition and then waited.

“At first, I couldn’t believe what was happening to me. I just kept thinking this couldn’t be real.” She looked over at him, hating that she was trembling with fear. “I was dragged through the jungle for hours, starved and then stuck in a hole with no food or water.” Tears welled. She would hold back the information about knowing she’d been a target until she was certain she could trust him. As it was, maybe he’d let her go.

“Do you know how long you were there?”

“What day is it?”

He glanced at his watch. “Monday.”

“My flight arrived in Mexico last Monday.”

“A week ago.”

“The sky was clear blue, the most beautiful shade I’ve ever seen. I’d stayed up late at a welcome party, so I didn’t get outside until noon or so the next day. Took a kayak out, and that’s when they grabbed me.”

Compassion warmed his stern features. “Now we’re getting somewhere. How many men were there?”

“Half a dozen.”

“Can you give a description?”

“They wore bandannas to cover their faces. Other than that, they were a little taller than me.” She was five foot seven. “They had to be five-eight or five-nine. Black hair and eyes.”

His face muscles tensed.

“I just described half of the country, didn’t I?”

He nodded, his expression radiating a sense of calm. “Dark skin or light?”

“Dark. Definitely dark.”

“Can you describe their clothing?”

“Most of them wore old jeans and faded T-shirts. Looked like secondhand stuff. They were dirty.”

“Some guerrilla groups live in the jungle,” he agreed.

Did he believe her? He’d stopped looking at her as if she belonged in the mental ward, so that had to be a good sign.

“If they abducted you for extortion, they would’ve contacted your family. Can I call someone? A spouse?”

“I’m not married.” An emotion she couldn’t identify flashed behind the agent’s brown eyes. “As for the rest of my family... There’s not really... It’s complicated.”

“Mother? Father?”

“I don’t know where he is. My mom isn’t reachable. She’s sick.” Why was she suddenly embarrassed by her dysfunctional family?

The better question might be when had she not been?

Emily remembered being scared to death she wouldn’t pass the background check required to work in her job for a major computer company. She’d had to get clearance since she entered data for various banks, some of which came from foreign interests. With a mom living in basically a cult and a dad who was MIA, Emily had feared she wouldn’t get through the first round with her prospective employer. Emily had always been responsible. She hadn’t even sampled marijuana in college as so many of her friends had. While all her classmates were “experimenting” and partying, she’d been working two jobs to pay tuition and make rent. Not that she was a saint. She just didn’t have spare time or energy to do anything besides work, study and sleep.

She had to keep a decent GPA, which didn’t leave a lot of time for anything else.

Heck, her college boyfriend had left her because she’d been too serious. He’d walked out, saying he wanted to be with someone more fun.

What was that?

Life hadn’t handed Emily “fun.” It had given her a deserter for a dad and a mom who was as sweet as she was lost.

Fun?

Emily clamped down a bitter laugh.

She’d had fun about as often as she’d had sex in the past year. And that really was a sad statement. Getting away, going to the beach, was supposed to represent a big step toward claiming her future and starting a new life.

“There’s no one we can call?” The agent’s voice brought her back to the present.

She shook her head. There was one name she could give him, her boss. She hated to do it. The last thing she wanted to do was jeopardize her job, but Jared could corroborate her story and then the agent would believe her. Possibly even let her go?

With the information she’d given the agent so far, she had a feeling she was going to need all the help she could get. “My boss.”

Agent Campbell pulled his cell from his pocket.

She gave him Jared’s number and took a deep breath.

* * *

REED PUNCHED IN the number the witness had given while he kept one eye on her.

She was still desperate, and there was an off chance she’d do something stupid, like run. He didn’t feel like chasing after her. He’d catch her. And then they’d be having a whole different conversation about her immediate future.

As it was, he figured a quick trip to Homeland Security would be all that was required. Minimal paperwork. Let them sort out the rest.

His years on the job told him she wasn’t a hard-core criminal. There was something about her situation, her, that ate at his insides. God help him.

“This is Jared,” came through the cell. His voice was crisp, and he sounded young. Early thirties.

Reed identified himself as a Border Patrol agent. “I’m calling to verify employment.”

“Then you’ll want to speak to HR.”

“I’d rather talk to you if it’s possible,” Reed interjected.

“That’s against policy—”

“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t a matter of national security. You can clear something up for me. Save me a lot of time going through rigmarole, sir.” Reed listened for the telltale signs he’d convinced Jared.

A deep sigh came across the line.

Bingo. “Does Emily Baker work for you?”

“Yes, she does. Why? Is she all right?”

Reed picked up on the uncomfortable note in Jared’s voice. Was it curiosity or something more? “Is she there today?”

“No. She’s on vacation. Mexico, I think.”

Part of her story matched up. The woman sitting beside him could be anyone, though. He’d already caught her glimpsing his gun. Logic told him she was debating whether or not to make a run for it.

“Can you give me a description of Miss Baker?”

“Why? Did something happen to her?” Panic raised his tone an octave. Something told Reed the guy on the phone was interested in more than her work performance. Wasn’t he the caring boss? A twinge of jealousy shot through him. What was that all about?

She was vulnerable. Reed’s protective instincts jumped into overdrive. He was reacting as he would if this was one of his sisters, he told himself.

“No. Nothing to worry about, sir. Routine questions.” Reed hadn’t exactly lied. She was a witness.

“Okay. Good. Um, let’s see. She’s medium height, thin, light brown hair. She’s a runner, so, um, she has the build for it, if you know what I mean.”

“Yeah. I get the reference.” How nice that her boss paid attention to her workout routine. Clearly, there was more to this story. An office affair? Disappointment settled over Reed for reasons he couldn’t explain. Why did he care whom she dated?

He reminded himself to focus on the case. This woman fit two-thirds of the description. It was obvious her hair had been bleached. The dye job was bad, and so was the cut. Her hair had been chopped off. Even so, she was beautiful.

And her legs were long and toned. She could be a runner. He made a mental note of the fact, in case she decided to bolt. It was easy to see she was in good physical condition, aside from events of the past few days.

She glanced around, antsy. Her expression set, determined, as she skimmed the docks. Was she working with someone? For someone?

Or was she just a few grains of sand short of a castle?

The tougher job was to assess her mental fitness. If she wasn’t involved in bringing guns into the country, and, really and truly, she would’ve been smart enough to have one loaded at the ready if she was, he had to consider the possibility she might be a danger to herself or others.