Navy SEAL Survival (13 page)

Duff entered the wooded area, pushing through the brush. He found several broken branches and the ground disturbed by footprints. He bent to study them and discovered an empty syringe almost hidden by the broad leaves of a plant.

His gut clenched and he straightened. What appeared to be a narrow path, possibly used by animals, stretched ahead of him. He ran through the jungle, realizing the path circled back. Eventually he emerged in a small clearing beside the road the tour buses came in on. Tire tracks led from the clearing to the road.

Duff ran out onto the road and stared both ways. A bus carrying a group of Japanese tourists rumbled past him, heading for the temples, stirring up a cloud of dust.

They were gone.

Whoever had taken Kylie and Natalie had gotten away. With no way of catching them on foot, Duff turned toward the ceremonial ruins of Chichén Itzá and jogged back.

He'd covered half a mile when a Jeep roared up to him. Montana slammed on the brakes and Quentin leaned out. “Get in. Maybe we can catch them.”

“What about the other women?” Duff said, climbing into the backseat.

“Sawyer is taking the bus back with them. We didn't have room in the Jeep to fit all of them.”

Before Duff was fully in the Jeep, Montana shifted into gear and tore out, spitting gravel up behind them.

Duff was slammed back in his seat. He didn't care. He shouldn't have given Natalie so much space. Whoever had taken the women had used drugs to subdue them.

His chest tightened as he realized Natalie had gotten her wish. She'd wanted to be taken by the kidnappers to wherever they might be hiding her sister.

Despite how fast Montana drove they never caught up to the vehicle spiriting Kylie and Natalie away. As they rounded a bend in the road they came upon a grassy clearing, the grass bent and the branches on the nearby trees waved frenetically as a helicopter rose into the sky. Below, a battered white van stood with the doors opened wide. Empty.

Duff stared up at the helicopter. “Anyone catch the lettering on the tail?”

Montana and Quentin shook their heads.

“What are the chances of tracing that helicopter?”

“Better if we were in the States,” Quentin answered.

“Nil here in Mexico,” Montana agreed.

Duff's fists clenched. No way he'd let Natalie disappear. She was just the kind of woman who could handle a man like him. And he liked that she wasn't completely flawless. Her fear of heights only made her more adorably human.

Quentin turned to Duff. “Where to now?”

His jaw hardened with his resolve to find her and bring her back alive. “Go back to the hotel.”

Montana shot a glance over his shoulder. “You don't think they took them back there, do you?”

“No,” Duff said. “But someone there will know how to find them.”

Chapter Twelve

Natalie faded in and out of consciousness, fighting to remain aware but unable to stay out of the deep, dark abyss that pulled her back each time. At one point she thought she heard the thumping of rotor blades. Wind whipped her hair across her face, the strands lashing her skin.

Fade out.

How long she'd been out, she didn't know. She bounced back to a semiconscious state when her body flopped over a bony shoulder and she was jostled and flung onto a pile of what felt like rags. Still, her eyes refused to open and she slipped away.

When she finally came to she thought she'd opened her eyes, only to find more darkness. Was she awake? Her body ached and something lumpy pressed into her hip.

The lump moved and a moan sounded close by.

Natalie tried to move her body, but it was too heavy, the drug having paralyzed her muscles. It would take time to wear off. Already she could feel tingling in the tips of her fingers. One by one, she wiggled her toes. Hopefully full control of her body would return before her captors came back.

In the meantime the gray fog began clearing from her brain. Natalie forced air past her vocal chords. “Kylie?” she said, her voice gravelly, barely recognizable to her own ears.

Another moan and the lump beneath her hip twitched.

Taking in a deeper breath, Natalie tried again. “Kylie?”

This time the moan sounded vaguely like Kylie.

A brief feeling of relief stole over Natalie. At least she and Kylie were together. If Natalie could wake her body from the pall of death the drug had induced on it, she might have a fighting chance of getting the girl out of there.

She never wanted one of Melody's friends to be caught in the same human trafficking that had taken Melody from her vacation into this new hell.

Her pulse quickened at the thought of her sister. “Melody?” she called out, her voice getting stronger.

No other sound reached her but that of Kylie breathing and occasionally moaning.

“Where are we?” Kylie mumbled. “I can't move,” she added, her tone tightening, her voice rising. “Why can't I move?” She sounded as if she was about to cry.

“Keep calm,” Natalie said. “We've been given some kind of paralyzing drug. I'm sure it's temporary. I'm starting to get some movement in my toes and fingers.”

Soft sobs echoed through the room.

While she waited for the drug to wear off, Natalie tried to see into the darkness to get an idea of where they were being held.

The lingering, pungent scent of oil and gasoline could mean a lot of different things. They could be in an abandoned auto-repair shop or in a warehouse where they used gasoline-powered forklifts to move pallets. They could be in a completely enclosed parking garage, but it, too, would have to have been abandoned or they would have heard more noise inside.

Natalie strained her ears to pick up any sound outside the building. A low rumbling reached her, then the deep clanking sound of metal hitting concrete. Were they in a warehouse? Maybe near a shipping yard?

“I'm scared,” Kylie whimpered.

“It's okay to be scared. We're in a scary situation. But there are people who will find us and get us out of here.”

“Who?”

“You know those guys that were hanging out at the bar? The ones that helped save Chelsea and Lisa when they almost drowned?”

“Uh-huh.”

“They're Navy SEALs.”

Kylie sniffed. “They are?”

“Yes. And they're going to help us get out of this mess.”

“How? They don't know where we are.” Her voice shook and more sobs followed.

“Trust me,” Natalie said. “They'll find us.”

“When?”

“I don't know. In the meantime we have to help ourselves.”

“I can't even move. How can I help myself?”

“The drug is wearing off. We have to give it time.”

“What if those men come back before it wears off?”

“We'll think of something.” Natalie prayed the men wouldn't return before she came up with a plan. She'd told Kylie about the SEALs to give her hope. Natalie couldn't guarantee they'd come to the rescue. A lot depended on Lance's tracking device and how quickly they were able to locate her.

In a perfect world, Natalie would let her captors take her to their ultimate destination, after she got Kylie out of whatever warehouse they were in and back to the hotel. She could be on the plane back to the States tomorrow.

In a perfect world.

Hell, in a perfect world, Melody would never have been kidnapped. She and her friends would all have been on a plane back to the States tomorrow. Happy, sunburned and innocent of the ugly truths of the world they lived in.

“I want to go home.” Kylie's voice shook and the sound of her sobs made Natalie wish she could pull the girl into her arms and comfort her.

“You will, sweetie,” Natalie said softly. “You will.”

The sound of voices speaking Spanish outside made her stiffen. “Shh, Kylie.”

“Is it the men who took us?” the younger woman whispered.

“I don't know.” Natalie listened. The men who'd attacked her had muttered curses in Spanish, but she couldn't tell if they were the same voices as those outside the walls of their prison. “Pretend that you're still unconscious.”

Metal on metal clanked as if someone removed a padlock from a hasp. Then a large door swung open, spilling daylight into the interior of what appeared to be a warehouse.

Natalie closed her eyes, leaving them cracked open enough to peer through her lashes.

Four Hispanic men walked in speaking Spanish so fast, Natalie, with her limited grasp on the language, only caught a few words. Women. Night. Then she heard the Spanish words for “four hundred thousand” followed by the English word “dollars.”

Her heart pounded against her ribs. She'd figured this was a human trafficking ring, selling women for money, but hearing the negotiated amount made it terribly real.

Had they already sold Melody to some rich bastard who'd carried her off to some unknown location on the other side of the world?

Hopelessness threatened to overwhelm her. With her body out of commission and her mind going through every horrible scenario, she had to get a grip or lose it entirely. Even if she never found Melody, she could help Kylie escape this nightmare. She hadn't been trained as a special agent only to end up in some sick son of a bitch's harem or sex den.

The men moved toward Natalie and Kylie. Natalie had come to realize the lump beneath her hip was Kylie's foot. No matter how much it had twitched before, Kylie lay still, not moving anything.

Natalie was closest to the door.

One of the men nudged her with the tip of his boot and laughed. He nudged her again, this time a little harder.

Natalie played dead. She wanted them to think the drug was still working and she remained unconscious. Maybe it would buy her some time without them sticking another syringe full of the same drug into her.

A cell phone rang nearby and one of the men spoke in rapid Spanish. When he ended the call, he said something to the others. They turned and walked out of the building, closing and locking the door behind them.

Natalie watched through half-closed eyes as they left, making sure all four men went through the door. The voices faded away, leaving her and Kylie alone.

“What can you move?” Natalie whispered, stretching her fingers and toes.

“Nothing.”

“Give it a try,” Natalie insisted.

A quiet minute passed and then Kylie said, “I think I moved my fingers.”

“Good girl,” Natalie said. “Now your toes.”

The foot under her hip wiggled.

“I think there's something on top of one of my feet.” Kylie wiggled the foot again.

Natalie chuckled. “That's me. Wiggle it and make me feel it. Kick me, if you can. I dare you.”

The twitching at her hip intensified until Natalie felt a definite nudge. “That's it. The more you move, the faster the drug wears off. Keep going.”

Natalie flexed her hands, exercising her fingers until her arms tingled. Then she moved her arms and bent her knees. Soon she could fling her arm to the side, her body rolling with it, freeing Kylie's foot.

“Better?”

“Yes.” Kylie gasped. “I can move my entire leg now.”

Natalie could move her legs a little, and the more she tried the better she got until she rolled onto her stomach and pushed to a sitting position. A few more minutes and she might be on her feet and finding a way to get Kylie out of the warehouse.

Voices sounded again outside the building. By the escalating volume, the men were excited or anxious about something.

“Quick,” Natalie urged. “If you don't want them to pump you full of drugs again, pretend you're completely unconscious. No matter what, don't let them know otherwise.”

* * *

D
UFF
BURST
THROUGH
the doors of the hotel lobby. Natalie had said if something happened to her, the man behind her tracking device would contact him. He assumed the man would be at the hotel, near to where Natalie was staying.

In the lobby Duff ground to a halt and stared at every man wandering through. No one made eye contact with him.

“Are you sure Natalie said someone would get in touch with you if she disappeared?” Montana asked.

“Yes.” Desperate to find Natalie and Kylie, he walked up to a man who appeared reasonably intelligent and demanded, “Do you know Natalie?”

The man backed a step, shaking his head. “No. I have no idea who you're talking about.”

A woman stepped up beside the man and slipped her arm through his. “Who is this man, darling?”

The man covered the woman's hand and led her away. “I haven't a clue. I think he mistook me for someone else.”

“Who's Natalie?” she asked, shooting a glare over her shoulder at Duff.

“If he's here, he'd have made contact,” Sawyer reasoned.

“Damn it, where is he?” Duff pushed through the back door and strode past the pool to the path leading to his bungalow. Perhaps the man would be looking for him there. Or would he look in Natalie's room?

Duff stopped so fast, Montana and Quentin plowed into him. They were on the path to the bungalows. The sun was on its way down and Duff had no idea where to look for Natalie or who her contact was. He clenched his fists, wanting to punch something or someone.

“Dutton Calloway?” A man stepped out of the bungalow farther down from his—the one Duff had peered into when he'd been searching for potential kidnappers. He was the guy with the computer setup. Duff hurried toward him. “Are you Natalie's friend?”

“I am.” He held out a hand. “Lance Johnson.”

Duff took the hand and gave it a brief shake. “Natalie said you could find her.”

“I can, as long as the tracking device is still working and on her.”

“She said you embedded it in her.”

“I did. It was the safest way to keep it on her. She wouldn't have a chance of losing it or having it removed from her possession.”

Lance entered his bungalow and held the door for Duff. Once Duff was inside, the man hurried toward a desk set up with two computer monitors and a keyboard. “Close the door behind you,” he called out to Montana and Quentin as he sat in a rolling desk chair.

Duff followed, leaning over Lance's shoulder.

“I knew something was up when she left Chichén Itzá sooner than the tour was scheduled to depart. And when she cut across areas with no roads, I figured whoever had Natalie airlifted her.”

“In a civilian helicopter,” Duff confirmed. “We didn't get any identification numbers off the tail.”

Lance shrugged. “Might not have done any good unless the chopper was registered in the US. I tracked her until she came to a stop here.” He pointed to one of the screens where a green dot blinked reassuringly.

“Where is it?” Duff asked. “Do you have a coordinate?”

Lance nodded. “I used the coordinate and overlaid it with a local map. She's in a warehouse on the south side of Cancun.”

“Address?” Duff barked.

Lance wrote the address on a piece of paper and handed it to Duff.

Duff spun toward the door.

“Wait,” Lance said. “Do Navy SEALs travel with their own personal arsenal?”

Duff dragged in a deep breath. “Not on vacation.”

“I packed my knife,” Montana offered.

“Me, too,” Quentin added. “But I'd rather have my M-4 or a submachine gun.”

“Even a SIG P226 would be handy,” Montana noted.

“We have to use our heads,” Duff reminded them. “We're not on a mission. We aren't even authorized to perform this one.”

“But we're going to, aren't we?” Montana asked. “We can't leave Natalie and Kylie to whatever those nutcases have in mind.”

“We're going.” Duff started for the door again.

Lance stepped in front of him. “You don't have to go unarmed.”

Duff fought the urge to push the man out of his way. The longer they hung around, the more chance of the kidnappers moving Natalie and Kylie. “What do you mean?”

“If you'll give me a minute...” Lance stepped to the side and unlocked what looked like a large, ordinary suitcase. He flipped a hidden latch that opened a compartment and revealed several weapons. “I don't have the P226, but I have two SIG P239s and two H&K VP9s, several spare magazines and enough bullets to keep you in business for a short amount of time.”

Duff hugged the man and then shoved him to the side. He grabbed the SIG P239, two magazines and four boxes of bullets.

Lance chuckled. “Never had quite that reaction over a couple of guns.” He moved to another suitcase and threw it open. Inside was an array of electronic gadgets. He shuffled through them and pulled out two-way headsets. “You can stay in contact with each other.” He also handed over a handheld two-way radio. “This is so you can keep in contact with me.”