Ripped Apart Page 17

  Clare did as he’d asked her. The duffel bag was heavy and she grunted while passing it to him through the bucket seats, the dull chink of metal hitting metal answering her question before she even asked it. She wasn’t surprised when he grabbed the duffel bag from her and reached inside to pull out another handgun.

  “This revolver’s for you. Remember what I told you in San Antonio the day that Doug—”

  “Point and shoot. Ask questions later.”

  “You got it. Here. It’s loaded. Lay it on the seat for now with the barrel pointed away from you—and us.”

  Clare reached for the gun, her hand trembling. She almost jumped out of her seat when Jake’s hand closed over hers in an iron grip.

  “I said don’t panic, okay?” He twisted around in his seat to look at her, his voice low and steady. “For all we know, Tyler’s fine and it was a false alarm. At least Ruiz had sense enough to get him to a hospital. Now all we have to do is figure out a way to get Tyler out of there.”

  “You…you don’t know—?”

  “Not yet, but at least we’ve got some help thanks to Pablo. Now take the gun…easy…”

  Clare’s hand still shook but she took the revolver from him and laid it on the seat, well within her reach, the barrel pointed at the opposite car door. Nothing surprised her anymore when it came to Jake, but her eyes widened when he pulled an ominous-looking assault rifle from the duffel bag and attached to it what appeared to be a large scope.

  It was happening. This was real.

  Nausea gripped her. She had a handgun but she didn’t know how to use it. She was a third-grade teacher, for God’s sake! She wished desperately at that moment that she’d watched more TV. At least then she might have learned something from all those crime shows—

  “Whatever happens, Clare, focus on Tyler.”

  She stared at his profile as he affixed what appeared to be a silencer to the barrel of another handgun.

  “The revolver’s a last resort. Just hope that you don’t have to use it.”

  She was already hoping and praying, the minutes ticking by. She didn’t want to envision what sort of last resort would require her to pull the trigger, but she knew one thing for certain. She would shoot if she had to…and if it meant having Tyler back in her arms again.

  “The hospital’s straight ahead, sir.”

  Sir? Realizing that Pablo must have served with Jake in the military, Clare stared past him at the huge well-lighted building they were approaching that appeared to cover an entire city block.

  They were so close now to Tyler, so close. Jake hadn’t said a word but gestured instead for Pablo to pull over to the side of the road, the car stopping as abruptly as Clare’s heart sank to her stomach.

  “But…aren’t we going in?” she asked, leaning forward to grip the back of Jake’s seat. “I thought you said—”

  “We’ve got some others meeting us first.” Jake glanced at Pablo. “What are we watching for?”

  “White van, no lights.”

  “Weapons?”

  “AK-47s, night goggles, 9 mm pistols.”

  “Good. Rendezvous point?”

  “Thirty yards from the emergency room entrance. They’ll want their money upfront.”

  “Expected it. Okay, let’s go.”

  Clare grabbed for the revolver to keep it from sliding off the seat as Pablo shifted into drive and swerved the car back out into the street. Her attention was riveted by the hospital looming ever closer like a massive white ship.

  Had they really only arrived in Mexico last night and so quickly come to this moment? The past day and a half seemed a blur to her, but the past right now didn’t matter. All that mattered lay ahead and getting her son safely home. The tension in the vehicle grew. She glanced at Jake to find he had a cell phone pressed to his ear.

  “Still in the ER, but stabilized for now. Thanks for the news. Call me back in ten minutes.”

  Clare grabbed the back of Jake’s seat, her whole body rigid. “Tyler’s okay?” The voice she’d heard hadn’t sounded like hers but strained and cracking with emotion. Jake’s nod made tears blur Clare’s eyes but she immediately choked them down and forced herself to take a deep breath.

  “Good, keep doing that.”

  “What?”

  “Breathing—slow and easy. Keeps the mind clear.”

  “Okay, I heard you before. No panicking.” Clare let go of the seat and shook out her cramped hands, her gaze drawn to what appeared to be a red-lighted sign indicating the emergency room entrance. “What’s happening? Who was that on the phone?”

  “Mike Reed. He agreed to help us. Keep your fingers crossed we have enough of it tonight to get this thing done.”

  “You know someone in that hospital?”

  “No, but Mike’s got one of his people in there watching what’s going on and communicating it to him. Seems that Ruiz and his wife Maria are in there with Tyler, along with two bodyguards. Lucky for us he’s traveling light as far as an entourage, so he can’t be expecting any surprises. I’d bet he hasn’t figured out yet that you’re in Mexico.”

  Clare felt a sudden chill. “How could he know?”

  “Simple. Same way he found out who was the transplant recipient. Men like Eduardo Ruiz wouldn’t survive without any number of contacts getting them the information they need. Police, military, you name it. Anyone can be bought, and speaking of money…”

  Clare followed Jake’s gaze to a white van pulling up to a curb twenty feet away from them, and he and Pablo exchanged some words in Spanish. She watched silently as Jake counted out four slim packets of hundred dollar bills while Pablo double-parked the car, then Pablo threw open the driver’s seat door and was gone with the money. It felt so still inside the vehicle that Clare heard the sound of blood rushing in her ears.

  “What do we do now?” she said in a whisper, glancing from where Pablo had disappeared between two parked cars to Jake who held the assault rifle across his lap. He didn’t answer, his gaze straight ahead toward the van. A tic worked along his jaw in the light from the streetlamp. “Jake?”

  “We wait for Pablo’s signal. If the men he hired take the money, it’s time to come up with a plan.”

  Clare glanced back toward the van, wondering what sort of signal Jake and Pablo had arranged. She wondered, too, what sort of plan Jake might have in mind, and if he intended to use her as bait to get to Ruiz like they’d already discussed. She swallowed hard and suddenly found it more difficult to breathe.

  “Remember, Clare, slow and easy. Choking up now won’t help anyone, least of all Tyler.”

  If he’d meant to get her attention, a slap across the face wouldn’t have done any better. She realized that he might be trying to make her angry so she wouldn’t be afraid. Well, his tactic had worked.

  “Okay, there’s Pablo now.”

  Clare had seen Pablo step out from behind the van and gesture for them to join him before Jake had said a word, her hand already on the door handle. She lunged out of the car and strode down the street. Jake cursed behind her but she didn’t stop. She’d be damned if he left her behind again to wait for him, watching, wondering, each passing minute an unbearable agony.

  “You’ve made your point, Clare. So you’re not choking up, but this isn’t a game—”

  “No, it’s not a game”—Clare spun on her heel to face him—”so stop treating me like a child. Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

  “Good enough. Get into the van.”

  She gasped as he grabbed her arm and pushed her toward the van door that had just opened, a pair of hands from inside catching her and pulling her into the dark interior. Jake followed behind her and then Pablo, all three of them cramming onto the middle seat with Clare’s back against the opposite side of the van. She smelled sweat and heard low voices, and then someone in the front seat struck a cigarette lighter.

  Clare stared around her at the four other men dressed in dark green military fatigues and bristling with weapo
ns, then to Pablo and back to Jake whose expression was as harsh as she’d seen it.

  “Time for us to come up with a plan, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Jake had spoken to her barely above a whisper. With every eye upon her, all Clare could do was nod.

  * * *

  “So you’re ready to go.”

  Jake stifled irritation that Mike Reed had taken fifteen minutes to call him back and shifted the cell phone to his other ear. Everyone in the van watched him, even though it was too dark to make out any faces, and Clare sitting next to him had gone as rigid as a board. He kept his voice low. “Ready. What about the plane?”

  “Everything’s arranged. You’ll find the pilot waiting for you outside Hanger 12, Monterrey International. He’ll fly you wherever you need to go.”

  “Good. Got an update for me?”

  “Same location as before. The boy hasn’t been moved from the ER, third bed on the right twenty feet beyond the front entrance, but he’s stable. Ruiz was in a huddle with some doctors a few minutes ago, but my contact couldn’t get any closer to hear what was going on. Looks like it’s up to you now. Need anything else?”

  “A power outage in the ER. Think it can be arranged?”

  “Might risk a lot of lives, including the boy’s—”

  “Should only take a few seconds. Can your contact handle it?”

  “I’ll find out. Give me a minute.”

  Mike hung up and Jake gripped the phone, waiting. Nobody in the van said a word, Pablo and the four commandos ready to move as soon as Jake gave the order.

  He wondered if Clare had been more disappointed than relieved that he didn’t plan to use her to flush out Ruiz. The new circumstances demanded a new strategy. All he wanted her to do was to stay close behind him, using his body as a shield while he went straight for Tyler’s bed. He’d prefer her to remain outside but Clare, determined as ever, would have none of that suggestion.

  She’d asked about the revolver in Pablo’s car but Jake had decided she wouldn’t need it. He’d decided, too, that she didn’t need to know about the San Antonio newspaper. She had enough to be anxious about already. Like he’d told her earlier, her job was to focus on Tyler.

  The rest of them had the job of neutralizing the enemy. Night goggles made invaluable tools and would ensure that taking out their targets would be swift and accurate. Once the boy was secured, Pablo would take over and escort Clare and her son back to the van. Jake had one last thing to do.

  He wanted to see the look in Eduardo Ruiz’s eyes to have a silencer digging into his forehead. He planned to mortally wound him during the initial assault and then finish him off right before they exited the ER. There would be seconds enough for the bastard to hear the name Isabella Wyatt before he died.

  Jake felt a rush of endorphins as the cell phone vibrated in his hand. “Yeah?”

  “Set your watch, Wyatt, 11:37. That’s exactly five minutes from now when you’ve got lights out, thirty seconds max before the emergency generator kicks in, and then they’ll power back up again.”

  “No problem. Thanks for the assist.”

  “Okay, good luck. Oh, yeah, I almost forgot. Plug that cock-sucking bastard a few times for me—just for all the aggravation.”

  “Aggravation?”

  “For you, Clare Carson, her kid. And maybe now I can get the fuck out of Mexico. Later.”

  The phone went dead and Jake didn’t have time to figure out what the hell Mike had been talking about. He lunged past Pablo seated next to him and threw open the van door.

  “Time to move. Everyone get as close as possible to the entrance but stay under cover. Wait for my signal. Focus on your targets, center body mass. The lights in the ER go out in four minutes and twenty-five seconds.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “Mr. Ruiz, I’m not saying the boy will die if you leave the hospital with him.”

  “Then what the hell are you saying? That he’s well enough to accompany us to the airport to catch our flight?”

  The chief cardiologist shook his balding head, which made Eduardo want to grab him by the throat and throttle him. Somehow he restrained himself but he stepped closer and stared into the man’s face, his fists balled with rage.

  “Tell me this much. Is there anything more you can do for him here?”

  “Mr. Ruiz, I’ve already explained that to you. We’ve done what tests we can and there’s no evidence of infection, but only time will tell if the boy’s out of danger. We’ve adjusted his medication and his temperature is near normal—a very good sign. There’s no serious threat of rejection. I nonetheless think a few nights’ stay would be the best thing for him. I told you when you arrived tonight that the first weeks after a heart transplant are a perilous time. You’ve given me so few details about the boy—”

  “There’s nothing more to tell you. We adopted him from Canada shortly after his surgery. Better yet, you and your staff would be smart to forget this visit—now get out of my way. I’ve had enough of you and this fucking place.” Eduardo shoved past the physician, threw open the curtain surrounding Daniel’s hospital bed, and gestured to the closest bodyguard. “Pick up the boy, Carlos. We’re leaving.”

  Maria cried out and jumped to her feet as Eduardo had expected she would, but he was ready for her. The mild sedation she’d been given had done nothing to dull her determination to remain at the boy’s side, yet it had slowed down her reaction time. He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her along with him as he strode toward the emergency room exit.

  “Say nothing against me, Maria, do you understand? The boy is stabilized so he’s well enough to travel. There’s nothing more they can do for him here. We’re heading to the airport, now, tonight.”

  “But his doctor, Eduardo, the nurses—”

  “They’re coming, too. Look behind you.”

  Eduardo held fast to Maria as she glanced over her shoulder at a small entourage following in their wake: the physician and the two nurses who’d accompanied them from the ranch, and the two bodyguards. Carlos carried the groggy-eyed boy while the other bodyguard ran ahead of them and through the emergency room doors to the stretch black limousine parked right out front. The car doors were thrown open and the motor running with the bodyguard in the driver’s seat as Eduardo led the way outside.

  “Don’t worry about the boy, I’ll get him.” Eduardo pushed Maria into the back seat and climbed inside after her, then turned and took the boy from Carlos. Daniel was so small, so light, and Eduardo couldn’t help but think of another boy he’d held in his arms not so long ago.

  He swallowed hard and then cursed when the somber-faced physician stepped on his toes as the man climbed into the limo and took a seat next to the two nurses. The doors slammed shut, Carlos the last one to duck into the car. As the vehicle pulled away from the ER entrance, Eduardo spied a movement out of the corner of his eye.

  “What the hell are you waiting for? Go!” His barked command had the desired effect as the bodyguard behind the wheel sped up the vehicle with a screech of tires into the street.

  “Oh, God, Eduardo, it’s too fast! Our son—”

  “Shut up, Maria!” Eduardo handed the boy off so abruptly to the physician that the man looked startled, but no more startled than the driver when Eduardo grabbed his shoulder and pressed a handgun to the back of his head. “Drive, you goddamn son-of-a-bitch! The airport, as fast you can!”

  Maria screamed, but it was no match for the shrieking pressure inside Eduardo’s skull.

  Damn that Carson woman! Damn her to hell! He gestured for Carlos to pull out his automatic weapon and that they were being followed, and then he fumbled in his coat pocket for his cell phone.

  That fucking bitch had found them. He would know her face anywhere from the faxed photo he’d received earlier that day. She must have been hiding somewhere near the entrance to the ER. The limo had barely begun to move when she’d lunged toward them out of the shadows only to be shoved to the ground from behind.


  Eduardo hadn’t needed to see any more. He kept his pistol firmly against the driver’s head while the limo sped even faster down the boulevard, and pressed the cell phone to his ear.

  Where the hell was the Facilitator? He’d talked to him not long after they’d arrived at the hospital. Eduardo counted three rings, four, then five, the pounding in his head mounting with each one. He was almost ready to hurl the phone when a familiar male voice answered. Sweat poring down his face and burning his eyes, Eduardo cut him off.

  “Just listen to me, damn you! We’re heading to the airport. The Carson woman found us somehow and she’s not alone. She ran toward the car but someone pulled her to the ground—goddammit, I didn’t stop and count heads! I don’t know how many were with her. Just get someone to the airport to back us up. Fifteen minutes and we’ll be there. You know where our plane is waiting. Take care of that bitch tonight, understand? Get the thing done and we’re done, I swear it. Plus twenty million as a bonus…are you there?”

  Eduardo gripped the phone so tightly his fingers had gone numb. The other end of the line had gone silent. He could almost hear the Facilitator thinking aloud.

  “I said twenty million. Make her dead. Make this crap go away. I’ll be happy, you’ll be happy. We both go our separate ways. Don’t think I haven’t known for months you’ve wanted out, so here’s your fucking chance. Now get that back up to the airport.”

  Eduardo didn’t wait this time for a reply but hung up. He already knew the answer.

  The Facilitator wouldn’t fail him. That bastard loved money as much as Eduardo, maybe even more. He shoved the phone into his pocket and glanced around him in the blue fluorescent light from the mini bar.

  Maria was on her knees sobbing with her arms draped over the boy.

  The physician and two nurses watched him silently, their faces ashen.

  “What the hell are you staring at?” Eduardo shouted, not surprised when the female nurse burst into tears while a wet stain spread down the male nurse’s left pant leg. Cursing in disgust, Eduardo focused on the driver and the pistol he dug even deeper into the base of the man’s skull.