Abducted. Dana Mentink

focus on his mission.

      Understandable. Jett was the same when he’d been active duty. The mission came first. Time for chitchat later. A wise strategy when your job was detonating bombs. Still, there was something, a piece that did not fit. One thing he’d learned as an EOD was to trust his instincts.

      Tom spoke into the radio, and two vehicles approached from somewhere down the road, where they must have been idling. The first was a battered Jeep. Behind that was a pickup with the back covered by a camper shell. “Please take a seat in the Jeep,” Tom said.

      Sarah eyed the small vehicle. “What about Mr. Young?”

      “He will be transported in the truck.” Tom’s mouth crimped in a humorless smile. “Don’t worry. It’s a short drive, and you will all arrive at the same location.”

      “Which is?” Jett demanded.

      Tom didn’t answer at first. “You don’t trust me?”

      “I can count the number of people I trust on two fingers. You’re not one of them.”

      Sarah stood stiffly before Tom. “I demand to be taken to the nearest police station,” Sarah said. “We need to contact the American embassy immediately.”

      “Of course,” Tom said. “Please get into the Jeep and we’ll depart.”

      Sarah hesitated, her troubled gaze shifting from Tom to Jett.

      Tom held up a palm. “The longer we stay here, the more likely Beretta will send others.”

      Sarah did not look completely convinced, but she walked to the Jeep and Jett followed behind.

      “What about Alex and his men?” Sarah pointed. “What will happen to them?”

      “They will be delivered to the police.”

      “Beretta will kill you,” Alex shouted. “He will not let this betrayal go unpunished. You won’t live through the night.”

      Tom did not look at them, but a slight gesture sent his men into motion, taping Alex’s mouth and loading him and Miguel into the truck.

      “Where’s the third one?” Jett asked.

      Tom’s mouth tightened. “He was able to escape, in spite of his gunshot wound. It’s another excellent reason for us to move quickly, in case he survives long enough to inform Beretta.”

      The driver directed Jett to sit in the front. Sarah was ordered into the back next to another of Tom’s men.

      “As a precaution,” Tom said. “In case Beretta has more of his people on the road. Mr. Jett can keep a lookout from the front seat.”

      “I’d be more help without my hands bound,” Jett said, holding up his wrists.

      A moment passed between them, and in that couple of seconds Jett knew.

      Jett kept his features composed as Tom removed a knife from a sheath on his belt and considered. Tom lingered there a moment, the blade gleaming in the failing sunlight. He flicked it ever so subtly in Sarah’s direction. It was a movement so small only Jett saw it, but he deciphered the unspoken message.

      “Be careful, Mr. Jett,” Tom said softly as he sliced through the ties. “Dangerous territory ahead.”

      Tension crackled through his nerves. Dicey situations didn’t bother him. Forcing Sarah into a dangerous path was another thing entirely. He knew without question that Tom had an agenda entirely apart from merely rescuing three Americans.

      Patience, he told himself. For now, you and Sarah are safe.

      The Jeep rolled smoothly into a neat U-turn before the driver took off in the direction from which he had come.

      Jett caught Sarah in the rearview mirror. She was scared, he knew, but outwardly composed. The glimmer in her iridescent eyes told the story. She also had gleaned the truth.

      This was not a rescue. It was another abduction.

      * * *

      Sarah’s back ached from the endless drive over dozens of potholes. She’d learned to live with a low level of chronic pain after her car accident, but the rough Mexican roads made every nerve along her spine complain. It seemed to her they were driving in circles, though she was no longer certain even what town they were passing. The sun was setting when they reached an unfamiliar industrial area. They passed a few ramshackle buildings with rusted equipment parked outside and what looked to be an abandoned car. Not one person was visible anywhere, not a single employee or foreman. It was too late for the afternoon siesta. Closed up for the day?

      She tried to force normal breathing, but her body was on high alert. These so-called rescuers had their own goals, and she knew it did not bode well for the three of them. Think, Sarah, she told herself. How can you help? Her medical bag was presumably still in the truck, but she’d stowed the blade that she’d used to cut Jett’s ankle restraints in her pocket. It was probably of no use whatsoever, but at least it might give her a chance to help them later on. The guard next to her was not disposed to letting his attention wander, so the tiny knife would have to stay hidden for the moment. Think like a detective, why don’t you? Figure out where you are.

      There was no scent of the ocean in the air, no cooling breeze to indicate they’d moved toward the coast. Inland, she decided. She saw from the position of the sun that they had been traveling north. A town in Tijuana, perhaps?

      But why bring them here? Surely a missionary nurse and a dive boat captain would be of little interest or value to anyone. Del Young—he was another story. His sly wink reminded her that he was not the innocent victim he seemed to be. Certainly Antonio Beretta had gone to great lengths to get his hands on Young, and now it appeared there was another interested party.

      They pulled to a stop in front of a rusted warehouse. A scarred sign on the front identified it as an import-export business. The man in the backseat got out and rolled up a metal door, the groan of steel loud in the stillness. Her heart pounded as the Jeep pulled forward into the dark interior. The smell of rust and sawdust permeated the air. Rows of stacked pallets crowded the periphery of the otherwise empty warehouse. A nice, quiet, isolated spot in which to murder three Americans. Her breathing hitched. But they could easily have done their killing back in the woods...unless they wanted the bodies to remain undiscovered for a while. The other truck crowded in behind them.

      Sarah’s guard lowered the door again. It clanked to the ground, vibrating the floor and swallowing them up in darkness. She felt a surge of panic as the darkness closed in, but Tom clicked on a bare overhead bulb that shed a sickly light over the space.

      She and Jett got out of the Jeep. She searched Jett’s face. He did not appear scared, only angry. That set off little alarm bells inside her. Dominic Jett did not react well to being cornered. In their high school days, they’d gone on a day trip to Los Angeles, where two guys had tried to steal her purse. They’d been lucky to get away with bloody noses. Now Jett stood with his feet apart, hands braced in front of him, eyes flicking the space from man to man, assessing.

      In her mind, they had no chance of escape. Don’t try anything, Jett. Please.

      “What now?” Jett snapped at Tom. “Are you ready to tell us what you really want?”

      Tom turned to the two who were pulling Del Young from the truck. “Strap him to the stretcher securely. The first part is vertical.”

      “The first part of what?” Sarah said.

      He glanced at her as if he had just now remembered her presence. “The journey.”

      “The journey where?” she nearly shrieked. “Where are you taking us?”

      Tom smiled. “Back home. To the United States.”

      It was not the answer she’d expected, and it left her dumb with surprise. He was returning them to the US? Had she been wrong about Tom and his colleagues?

      Jett snorted. “I