Navy Seal Captive. Elle James
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who’d been kidnapped and readied for auction in a human trafficking ring.
Rest and relaxation. Ha!
Since when did getting shot at count as recreation?
Quentin, Montana and Sawyer could have told Duff where he could go with his plan to help, but that was not what friends did—not what SEAL brothers did. They stuck together and helped each other through good times and bad. And if there were guns and bad guys involved, that was when they did their best work.
Sawyer leaned back in the surf and let the warm, clear ocean water ebb and flow over his skin. Now that they’d retrieved the women and sent most of them to their respective homes, the team could finish their vacation in peace.
Montana hopped across several more waves, shouting like a fool and laughing in the sun. A wave hit him broadside and knocked the big cowboy into the water.
Laughing, Sawyer stood, brushing sand off his shorts.
Montana dragged himself up the back of the craft, mounted the WaveRunner and powered into the shore, pulling up on the sand beside Sawyer. Grinning, he shook the water from his hair. “You’re gonna love it.”
“Great.”
Montana climbed off and stood to the side.
Finally Sawyer had his turn. He and Montana turned the vehicle in the sand to aim it outward.
Sawyer swung his leg over the body of the craft and settled onto the cushioned seat. As he twisted the throttle, a shout sounded behind him.
* * *
AS SOON AS Jenna realized who the man in the photographs was, she’d grabbed her cell phone and called Carly.
Her friend didn’t answer. Instead, she texted.
What do you need? We’re in a convertible. I can’t hear over the wind.
Get Quentin to give you the number for his friend.
Carly responded with a smiley face and a note.
His name is Sawyer.
Her heart racing, Jenna paced the floor. Every time she passed the case on the bed, her stomach clenched and she muttered, “Holy crap.”
Someone had been paid to deliver Sawyer dead or alive to some undisclosed location. Armed with that information, Jenna couldn’t stand by and let the would-be assassin succeed in his mission. She had to warn Sawyer. The sooner the better. The assassin might have more than this rifle at his disposal. And he had a deadline to meet.
Her first thought was to call the police. But no crime had been committed at that point. And hell, what if they thought she was the owner of the weapons? They’d throw her in a Mexican jail to rot. All the reports she’d heard about the Mexican government being owned by the drug cartels didn’t give her much faith in their ability to stop this kidnapping or assassination from occurring.
Jenna glanced at the clock on the nightstand. It was already three in the afternoon. That meant six hours until the assassin had to deliver his prize.
Jenna’s phone pinged with Carly’s text. It contained a phone number, the name of a nearby resort hotel and a message.
Sawyer was planning to go to the beach this afternoon and rent a WaveRunner. You might find him there. Have fun!
“Have fun? Are you kidding me?” With a near-hysterical laugh, Jenna dialed the number and waited, gripping her cell phone so hard, she was afraid she’d break it. On the third ring, a male voice answered.
“Leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.” The voice was the same rich baritone she’d heard on the zip-line platform.
Jenna closed the damning suitcase and shoved it high on a shelf in her closet, hoping that would calm her frazzled nerves. It didn’t. She still had to warn Sawyer.
Unwilling to deliver the bad news to him via a recording, she hit the end button and glanced around the room. Still dressed in nothing but her underwear, she yanked the bright pink bikini Carly insisted was adventurous out of her carry-on bag, shed her bra and panties and slipped into the suit. She threw on a short, lacy beach wrap and grabbed her room key.
She’d considered texting Carly about what was in the case but was afraid Carly wouldn’t believe her. Or worse, the text message would be intercepted. Nobody could know she had the case. Not until she figured out what to do with it.
First she had to find Sawyer and warn him about the note’s contents.
Riding the elevator from the bridal suite to the ground floor was a study in patience. The car stopped several times on the way down to fill with people wearing dinner clothes or beach apparel, depending on where they were headed. They laughed and joked with each other while Jenna bit down on her lip and counted the seconds until they reached the bottom. She wanted to shout and rail at the people slowing her down. Didn’t they realize a man’s life could be hanging in the balance?
Somewhere in Cancún, possibly on the beach, an assassin could be following Sawyer or aiming at him through a scope similar to the one in the case. One pull of the trigger and Sawyer would be delivered dead.
The elevator hit the ground level and the doors opened, disgorging the numerous passengers.
Dancing in the rear, Jenna tried to get around some of them but was cut off every time. When she found a clear path, she darted through the lobby, making a beeline for the concierge, where she cut in front of an elderly couple and asked where she could find the hotel Carly had given in her text message.
The concierge pointed and told her it was two hotels south along the beach.
Jenna didn’t wait for clearer directions but ran out the back door of the hotel, past the pool and the myriad lounge chairs flanking it and out onto the sand. She didn’t slow as she raced past the umbrellas and people stretched out, capturing the afternoon sunshine. Eventually she ran along the water’s edge, finding better purchase in the wet hard-packed sand. Passing the first resort hotel, she kept her gaze forward, searching the beach in front of her and the water to her left.
God, she hoped he was close to the water, where she could find him easily. If she had to look at each patron on the beach, it could take too much precious time.
As she neared the second resort hotel with its rainbow-colored beach umbrellas, Jenna saw a small tent set up close to the water with a number of WaveRunners parked in the sand.
Barely able to breathe by then, she staggered to a stop in front of the startled attendant.
“Have you—” Jenna wheezed as she leaned against the tent pole and dragged in a deep breath “—rented a WaveRunner—” she breathed again and finished in a rush “—to a tall, dark-haired man with tattoos on his arms?”
The attendant’s brows pulled together. “Sí.”
“Where is he now?”
The man pointed to the water’s edge a hundred yards farther along the beach.
Jenna glanced past the teenagers throwing a Frisbee, the father tossing his child in the air and the girls playing in the surf to a man standing near a WaveRunner and another slinging his leg over the seat.
“Wait!” Jenna cried and took off, running as fast as her legs and lungs could carry her.
Neither man turned at her shout the first time.
“Wait!” she cried as she got closer. This time the man standing beside the WaveRunner looked up. The one on the vehicle revved the engine and started sliding toward the water.
Giving it her all, Jenna lifted her knees and elbows, running faster than she ever had in the fifty-yard dash in high school and pounded across the wet sand, out into the surf. She flung herself onto the back of the watercraft, wrapping her arms around the man with the tattooed arms.
“What the hell?” Sawyer twisted in his seat to stare at his passenger.