Colby Core

Debra Webb

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Copyright

This story is dedicated to the families of all the missing children around the world. God be with you. No one should suffer this heinous tragedy.

Chapter One

Saturday, December 26, 10:00 p.m.

New Orleans had three inches of snow.

Thus far the month of December had been tagged as the coldest on record the past several decades, as well as for the most snowfall.

Just his luck.

Coming south in winter was generally associated with warmer temps. But not this trip. This time was different on a number of counts.

When Victoria Colby-Camp had called Riley Porter into her office on Christmas Eve, he had known that the case would be different from any other she’d assigned him. He’d put aside his plans to go home to Kansas City and visit his folks.

There was no client in this situation—not a single, official paying client anyway. The parents of the children Von Cassidy and Trinity Barrett rescued mere days ago had called Victoria from the hospital in Alabama where they had been reunited with their children and implored her to use the assets of her agency to stop this human trafficking network.

In addition, Von had gotten a glimpse of a young woman, Tessa Woods, involved in the network who had gone missing almost six years ago. How many other missing teens and children would be rescued by infiltrating this organization?

Victoria had made a solemn promise to do all she could to make that happen.

The FBI in Chicago, New Orleans and Huntsville, Alabama, had formed a task force to get to the root of this evil network.

Right there in the hospital, on Christmas Eve, a preliminary strategy had been put into place. One of the captured kidnappers, Russell “Buzz” Smith, had spilled his guts hours earlier in hopes of a lighter sentence. He’d sworn that this had been his first job with the trafficking organization. He was relatively young and seriously scared and straight-up desperate enough to do whatever was asked of him.

With his cooperation an opportunity had presented itself. Since the names of those captured or fatally injured in the Huntsville showdown had not been released to the press at the time, it was entirely possible—as far as the public knew—that one of the bad guys had escaped.

The end result had placed the Colby Agency in a very unique situation. Riley was the right age and possessed the necessary coloring—brown hair and gold eyes—and build to pass himself off as Buzz Smith. Those who had met Buzz were either dead or being detained. No one else in the organization had seen Buzz face-to-face or spoken directly to him. He had been hired by one of the kidnappers who’d lost his life in the course of the operation.

Putting through a call to the contact provided by Buzz Smith had set an operation in motion. Posing as Buzz, Riley had been instructed by the contact to come to New Orleans and report all that he knew.

Riley sipped the whiskey he’d ordered an hour ago. He needed to fit in with the not-so-low-key crowd partying the night away in this rebuilt warehouse-turned-bar on the fringes of downtown New Orleans. But he couldn’t risk dulling his awareness in any capacity, so he sipped the drink slowly and tipped the waitress whenever she stopped to ensure he stayed on her good side.

Riley had made the call less than twenty-four hours ago. This place—the Rusty Hinge, a sleazy bar way, way off Bourbon Street—had been named as the rendezvous point by the contact. Buzz Smith had sworn that he’d given up all the information provided to him in the way of a briefing when hired, basically just enough to get Riley in the door.

It would have to be enough.

With only a scumbag’s word, Riley had arrived at the rendezvous location an hour early for the meeting with the network’s contact. Riley had taken a position with his back to the wall at a table for two as far from the entrance of the Rusty Hinge as could be gotten.

The weapon hidden in his waistband at the small of his back would be worthless if he wasn’t prepared and on his toes. He set the nearly empty tumbler on the table and surveyed the crowd of after-Christmas revelers.

Any one of them could be watching him, waiting for an opportunity to take him out. Determination tightened his jaw. Considering the importance of his part in this operation, he wasn’t afraid of dying, only of failure. This case was far too important to be put off for any reason. Every squandered minute could mean the loss of another child or teen. Riley couldn’t waste a single moment, not even the time wasted in dying.

Two men swaggered through the front doors, the only entrance or exit for the establishment Riley had noticed in the public area. There would be one in the back somewhere. The fire code would never permit only one access route. He assumed the door marked Employees Only led to a stock area where another entrance must exist. So he’d been keeping an eye on the bar as well.

The newcomers inventoried the crowd, their gazes eventually settling on Riley’s table. When they moved in his direction tension rippled through his muscles. This was it. One man was a head taller than the other. The shorter guy sported a shiny, bald head. Both wore heavy coats, likely concealing weapons.

Riley adjusted the ball cap he wore to ensure the two—if they were his contacts—understood he was the man they sought. The cap was red and sported a popular Alabama college football logo. Buzz Smith hailed from Alabama and wanted the world to know it.

Levi Stark, a colleague from the Colby Agency, and Special Agent Lee Ross from the local New Orleans Bureau office were in the vicinity for backup. But the success of this operation depended upon the two staying in the background. To that end, Riley was unaware of their exact locations except that they were nearby. Communication devices had been left out of the scenario due to the increased risk. They could take no unnecessary chances.

Tracking devices had been installed in Riley’s boot heels. That was the extent of the precautions he could afford to take for the moment. But he wasn’t worried. Backup was close. He fully trusted both men to do their jobs. One of the two was likely stationed outside in preparation for efficient relocation if necessary. The other, the Bureau agent, was likely amid the crowd. Riley hadn’t spotted him but if the agent was good at his job that was to be expected.

And Riley was highly trained to deal with the unexpected. His former career as a Navy SEAL ensured he was fully prepared to evade, outstrategize and outmaneuver the enemy as well as to operate in the midst of that same enemy.

A sense of mind-clearing calm settled over Riley as the two new arrivals stopped at his table; one eyed him with blatant suspicion, then with a quick look around, asked, “Smith?”

“You the man in charge?” Riley demanded with an arrogant thrust of his chin and without bothering to confirm his identity. “I don’t want to talk to some peon.” He leaned across the table showing no fear. “Somebody set us up. Now everyone else is dead. Whoever did this knew exactly what our movements would be. Knew everything.” He shook his head. “I’m not trusting just anybody. I want to talk to the man in charge.”

The two men exchanged a look.

Three, four beats passed.

“Seems like you got yourself an attitude, Mr. Smith. What makes you think,” the shorter guy with the shiny head and a hawklike nose asked, “we care who you trust or what you think?”

“Or—” the first man who’d spoken leaned down and braced his palms on the tabletop to look Riley more closely in the eyes “—if you live or die?”

“Maybe—” Riley downed the last of his whiskey “—because you’re here. And because you and your boss might want to consider that whoever set us up is damned smart. If he did it once, chances are he’ll do it again. And until you know who he is, then you can’t protect yourself. Or your operation.”

“We don’t need you to figure that out,” the taller guy said with a smirk. “Chances are,” he mocked, indifference in his tone and in his eyes, “you won’t be around long enough for it to matter to you one way or another.” He straightened and hitched his head toward the door. “Let’s go,” he said to his buddy. “We’re done here.”

“Folks get nervous,” Riley said, causing both to hesitate, “if they think there’s a loose end hanging around.” His gaze zeroed in on the one who appeared to be in charge, the taller one. “Makes ‘em desperate. Desperation fuels panic. Next thing you know they make a mistake and give themselves away before they have a chance to get in the way—if you know what I mean, again. But then, maybe you’ve got the situation under control and aren’t worried about anyone on the inside setting you up a second time.”

The indifference in the man’s narrow gaze shifted to uncertainty. “Outside. Now.” He turned his back and cut through the crowd, his buddy following.

Riley had pushed all the right buttons. He scooted back his chair and stood. At least he had their attention. Taking his time, he pulled on his coat, then made a path through the crowd of bodies. The waitress smiled at him as he passed a table she was serving.

The instant the entry doors cracked open the sharp sting of cold air greeted Riley. Damned cold. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Just his luck, he reflected for about the tenth time today.

Nature’s white blanket still cloaked the landscape, drawing the light from the full moon. Even the bare limbs of the trees served as shelves for winter’s unexpected gift, adding an eerie glow to the landscape.

Riley had taken a mere three steps away from the door when a muzzle nudged firmly into his back. “Keep walking,” the owner of the weapon instructed. “All the way to the gray SUV on your left.”

Hawk-nose. Riley didn’t have to glance back, he recognized the gruff voice. The taller one was likely close by or in the SUV already. Riley followed the instructions, crossing the parking lot to the specified vehicle.

“Now what?” Riley asked, not about to make any aspect of this easy.

Hawk-nose patted him down, discovered the weapon and claimed it. “Get in.”

Riley reached for the front passenger door.

“The back.”

“Where we going?” Riley asked. “To the boss?”

“Just get in.”

The muzzle burrowed deeper into Riley’s coat, reminding him that his choices were limited for buying additional time for his backup to prepare for following. He opened the back passenger-side door and climbed in. As he’d presumed, the taller of the two sat behind the steering wheel.

“Take off your clothes,” the driver ordered, his gaze on Riley via the rearview mirror.

Now there was one Riley hadn’t expected. “Say what?”

“Take ‘em off,” he repeated and tossed a pair of gray coveralls over the seat.

Riley wasn’t happy about it but he understood exactly what they were up to and it wasn’t good. He had little choice but to comply. Getting inside this operation was the goal, whatever the risk.

Taking his time, he peeled off his coat, then the rest—including his boots. When he’d pulled on the coveralls he reached for his boots to tug them back on. There was snow on the ground after all.

“You won’t need those,” Hawk-nose, who still loomed in the open door, said. He snagged the boots as well as Riley’s clothes.

“In case you hadn’t noticed,” Riley reminded the two, “it’s cold as hell.”

“Socks, too.” Hawk-nose stuck his hand in front of Riley. “Hurry up. It’s cold out here,” he tacked on in a mocking tone.

Riley peeled off his socks and tossed them to the guy. “Anything else?” Not that he had anything else to fork over.

The rear door slammed shut in his face. Riley glanced at the guy in front of him, then swung his attention to the one outside. It was tough to see beyond the darkly tinted windows, but the clothes Riley had shed, boots included, were dumped between two parked cars. The boots were his favorite pair. Not to mention they carried the tracking device. Nothing he could do about that.

The hawk-nosed guy headed back to the SUV. He opened the rear passenger door. “Slide over.” He gestured toward the other side of the seat with his weapon.

Riley scooted over and the other man climbed in next to him. “Let’s get out of here,” he said to his buddy.

The driver started the engine. “I guess you’re gonna get your wish, Mr. Smith. There’s someone who wants to talk to you after all.”

“As long as he’s higher up the food chain,” Riley said.

Hawk-nose rammed the muzzle of his handgun into Riley’s temple. “Your mouth is going to get you killed. You should keep it closed for now if you want to keep breathing, pal.”

Riley turned his face toward the man next to him, ignoring the business end of the gun. “I’m not your pal. I’m the guy who’s going to provide you and your partner here with a little more job security.”

Fury detonated in the man’s eyes as the interior light faded to black. “I don’t know why we can’t kill him right now,” he snarled.

“You make a mess in my SUV,” the driver warned as the vehicle rolled out onto the deserted street, “and I’ll kill you.”

Hawk-nose wasn’t put off by his colleague’s threat. “I think he’s bluffing,” he mused. “Probably working with the cops.”

Riley didn’t flinch, didn’t take his fierce glare off the man with the gun. The streetlights provided enough illumination for him to see that his scare tactics weren’t working.

“He don’t know nothing,” Hawk-nose suggested.

“If he’s not working with the cops, he’s just trying to get a promotion.”

“The boss’ll be the judge of that,” the driver reminded his colleague.

That piece of news was what he had wanted to hear. Riley relaxed into the seat, directed his attention straight ahead.

He was in … at least far enough to get a face-to-face with the boss.

The first step. If he could convince the boss of his own usefulness, maybe—just maybe—he could get all the way into the organization.

It was the only way to dismantle an operation this large and this sophisticated.

From the inside.

He would, as quickly as possible, learn the key players and then he would move on to step two. That was the most time sensitive and crucial step: take out one or more pivotal pieces of the foundation. Then the entire network collapsed.

Step two would be easy as long as he stayed alive.

Chapter Two

11:05 p.m.

The cold wind whistled through the cracks in the window frame. Tessa touched the wood frame, registering the roughness of the peeling paint that had once been white and the chunks of missing caulk that allowed the frigid air to seep into the room.

Her gaze drifted past the wavy glass of the century-old window, past the intimidating black iron bars, to the snow that remained on the ground. She couldn’t remember the last time it had snowed for Christmas. Her lips ached with the need to smile. But smiling was forbidden.

The Master did not allow his family to smile or to laugh.

Holidays were difficult sometimes. Memories crept in … reminding her of how it used to be.

Before …

“Tessa.”

A tremble slid through her, shaking her bones. She turned to face him. “Yes?”

“Ensure the children and the patients remain in their rooms.”

For a long moment she simply stared in response. Taller than most men, six-three or -four. He worked out religiously to keep his muscles big and hard. Used steroids liberally to be sure they stayed that way well after his youth had become a distant memory. Always dressed in elegant attire. Everything about him, except his skin, was black. Hair, eyes, clothing. He used his coloring, his size and even his clothes to inspire fear.

It always worked.

No one dared cross him.

“Tessa?”

The warning in his tone trapped the oxygen beneath her sternum for a moment more. “Yes.” She blinked, forced away all other thought save his order. “I’ll make sure.”

He surveyed her room, no doubt noting that the covers of her bed had not as of yet been turned down. “I believe it’s past your bedtime, is it not?”

Tessa nodded. She smoothed a hand over the pink flannel of her gown. The metal key in the pocket pressed reassuringly against her hip. “I was about to lie down, but I thought I heard something outside.”

“That would be security’s concern.”

“Of course.”

She held her breath until he’d gone. As long as she obeyed, she could take care of the children and the patients. More caution was necessary. She couldn’t make a mistake. For years she had watched the unthinkable treatment of those confined … she had worked diligently to reach a position of some authority so that she could change that sadness. So that she could devise a plan.

No matter the cost to her, she could not lose that small power.

In spite of that need, she still longed for freedom … escape. There had been opportunities … few and rare, but opportunities nonetheless. She would not take advantage of the chance to escape without being able to take the others with her.

To take the child.

An ache rose in her throat.

No matter the cost.

Pay attention. She squared her shoulders. Something was happening tonight. There was an unusual tension in the air. A sense of anticipation.

For the past hour or so she had seen the seemingly frantic coming and going of the others assigned to the house. There were no other deliveries or pick-ups on the schedule for the next eight days.

Fear trickled into her veins. If he had increased his schedule … No. She shook her head. It was too risky. He wouldn’t do that. She would know if changes had been set in motion.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Tessa turned away from the window and moved toward the door, her bare feet soundless on the frigid floor.

She couldn’t think about the deliveries or the pickups. Taking care of the children and the patients was all that mattered. That was her life now.

At least until the time was right. The opportunity was close … so very close.

A shiver rumbled through her body as defeat weighed heavily down upon her. Stop. Nothing would stop her … she would find a way, no matter the obstacles that arose. Her plan was solid … but the timing had to be perfect.

Outside her door, along the dark, silent corridor were two large rooms besides her own. Tessa removed the key from her pocket and unlocked the first door.

She didn’t turn on the light for fear of waking the sleeping children. Whatever was happening, it could be dangerous. The children would be safest if they were asleep. Noise—not even a whimper—was allowed past eight in the evening.

Tessa crouched down next to the first bed. She pinched her lips together to prevent the forbidden. The urge to sweep soft blond hair back from the little girl’s forehead forced her to clench her fingers. She drew the fist to her lips and resisted the new urge to cry.

She had to protect the child.

She had to protect them all.

In a few days, at most, everything would change … it would all be over.

Clinging to that hope, Tessa moved to the next bed, then the next and the next. All four children slept soundly. All beautiful blond-haired girls with dazzling blue eyes.

And one, her gaze wandered back to the first bed, was the most beautiful of all.

Careful not to make any noise, she padded back to the door. Once in the corridor she closed and locked the door to the children’s room.

Her heart sank into her belly as she approached the next door. Tessa moistened her lips and unlocked it. Her hand shook as she removed the key and slid it into her pocket. Bracing for the misery, she turned the knob. A creak made her flinch. She prayed those inside, too, would be asleep. It would be best if they didn’t ask questions. Their cries and pleas took a heavy toll on Tessa.

Holding her breath, she eased into the dark room. The thick drapes on the windows blocked the moonlight from filtering inside. Beyond the drapes, on all the windows in the house, were iron bars that prevented anything inside from slipping out.

She moved quickly to the first of four narrow beds that lined the walls. Like the children, the women slept soundly. With no nightlight, Tessa couldn’t see their faces in the thick blackness, but she could hear their breathing. Slow, deep, rhythmic. Sleep was their only escape from a reality too horrifying to endure for more than a few hours at a time.

Please let me be able to help them before it’s too late.

The distinct sense of urgency thick in the room caused Tessa’s stomach to tighten with emotion.

Time was running out.

She had to be ready to act. She couldn’t allow this to happen again.

Her plan had to work.

Determination chasing away the uncertainty and fear edging out her courage, she turned and walked quietly back across the room, then as noiselessly as possible she exited and locked the door.

Let them sleep. Reality would intrude soon enough.

The corridor was quiet. Tessa hesitated outside her own room. She should go to bed. But sleep would be impossible. As the time drew nearer, the anticipation built, preventing sleep and prompting a restlessness that wouldn’t go away.

She bit her lower lip and considered the risk involved with indulging her curiosity.

Learning what tonight’s unusual activities were about could prove useful to her plan … but if he caught her she would be punished severely.

No one defied the Master.

Tessa inhaled a breath of courage and set one bare foot in front of the other; her destination: the landing. Each step frayed her nerves a little more. This house was so very old … the floors creaked. It had taken her months to learn the best places to step to avoid the loudest groans.

She didn’t release the air in her lungs until she reached the landing. Repeating a silent mantra for protection, she dared to lean over the railing just far enough to view the stairs that wound down to the second, then the first floor.

Clear.

Holding her breath, she glanced upward to the fourth floor—his floor. No one was allowed up there unless personally invited by the Master.

Her gaze dropped back to the stairs winding downward. Whatever was going on, the trouble had apparently settled in the questioning room.

Another shudder rattled her bones as she considered that room … the basement.

He’d turned it into a chamber of horrors. Steel bars had been erected at both ends of the massive area for using as cells. Every square foot of the floor space between acted as a stage for terror.

Torture devices.

Tessa closed her eyes and summoned her fleeing courage yet again. The silence closed in on her, crumbling away at her fragile bravado.

Just go.

Blocking the warning voices inside her head, she descended quickly to the second floor. She hesitated on the landing. More of that consuming silence. The soldiers who used the second floor for sleeping quarters were either rallied for whatever was going on or adjourned to their rooms. It was past curfew, but until a short time ago there had been much coming and going. That she could not be certain of their status made her decision to get a closer look at what was happening even riskier.

Had the Master summoned his entire team for some impromptu action?

Perhaps the police had finally discovered his identity and this hidden compound. Tessa had prayed for years that the police would come, that somehow she and the others would be rescued.

But he was too smart for the police. Eventually she had realized that no one was coming. There would be no savior … no rescue.

Unless she stepped into the role and organized her own rescue.

The first floor proved equally quiet. She made her way from room to room and from window to window, using her memory as her guide since she didn’t dare turn on any lights. Her breath hitched when two dark figures moved past a rear window. The perimeter guards. Two men walked the grounds twenty-four/seven. The Master never relied solely on security cameras or other gadgets.

So … whatever was happening was in the questioning room. Her gaze lowered to the wood floor. She moistened her lips and swallowed back the confirming lump of fear that had lodged in her throat.

Trouble.

Someone had either been identified as a potential informant or an enemy had been captured. Only once since she’d been with him had an informant been uncovered. He had forced her to watch the slow, agonizing torture and ultimate murder of the man.

Two other times an enemy had been brought here. Most of the time anyone presumed to be the enemy was simply killed on the spot. But if there was information to be gained, the enemy was interrogated. Always here. Always mercilessly.

Tessa returned to the wide entry hall and held her breath. She listened, straining with the effort. Silence. They had to be in the questioning room. That level had been meticulously insulated to ensure no sound escaped or invaded the space.

The original entry point had been in the hall, but the Master had long ago closed that access and created a hidden entrance in his library.

Directly across the entry hall from the parlor, the library had provided hours of escape for her in the beginning. It had taken almost a year for her to accept her new lot in life, then she had turned her attention to gaining trust and responsibility. One day, those years of planning and praying would provide freedom.

Inside the library, bookshelves lined the walls, floor to ceiling. A massive desk sat in the middle of the room, flanked by four chairs. This was where he held his strategy sessions. Only recently had she been allowed to attend the sessions. She had not gained a chair as of yet, but she was allowed to sit on the floor in one corner. A trusted member of the family was assigned a corner and eventually a chair.

A section of the shelving, four feet wide and nine feet tall opened, revealing a wide staircase that led down to the questioning room—or dungeon as she preferred to call it.

There would be only one place she could hide from view and that was about one-third of the way down. She would be able to see around the wall that ended at that point while still concealing her presence—if no one stood at the bottom of the stairs or happened to be coming up as she started down.

She removed the book that concealed the button, then pressed. The section of shelving with its faux books slowly, quietly moved open via its hydraulic hinges. Raised voices vibrated on the cool air. The temperature down there was kept at a steady sixty degrees, adding to the discomfort of those imprisoned and/or being interrogated.

The instant Tessa moved down to the first step she pressed the closing mechanism. The door crept closed behind her. She shivered, as much from the cold as from the fear.

She stood very still and listened.

The Master and his two deputies were grilling a fourth man. Tessa didn’t recognize his voice. She needed to see. She bit the inside of her jaw and considered whether she dared.

The timing was too close to her plans to ignore the situation. If operations or schedules were about to change related to the capture of an informant or an enemy, she needed to be aware.

Easing forward, she peeked around the wall. A man wearing gray coveralls was secured to the interrogation chair. Her heart bumped her chest. His face already showed signs of torture. The Master stood back and watched as his deputies, Brooks and Howard, questioned the man. The man looked young. Brown hair. Definitely no one she had seen before.

She waited a moment more for her heart to stop pounding, then she moved.

Without daring to take a breath she descended the steps and moved around to hide beneath the stairs. Supply containers provided cover for her crouched position. She willed her heart to slow once more, thanked God the fabric of her gown hadn’t so much as whispered against her skin. She inhaled slowly, soundlessly until her breathing returned to normal.

She wrapped her arms around her knees and maintained her balance on the pads of her feet. They called the man “Smith.” Tessa knew no one named Smith.

“Considering your fear of capture,” the Master said, his deputies falling silent as he spoke, “why make contact with us? Why not go into hiding?”

Smith stared up at the Master as if he had no fear at all. Tessa’s eyes widened in expectation of retaliation.

“I had no place else to go,” he said with no humility whatsoever. “That’s why I took this job in the first place. I’d run out of other options.”

Brooks, the taller of the two deputies, backhanded Smith, almost toppling the chair.

“You believe,” the Master went on, “that we have an obligation to take you in? “ He laughed, that deep ugly sound that haunted Tessa’s dreams far too often. “This is no halfway house, Mr. Smith. In fact, in your case, it’s the end of the line.”

The Master turned and started toward the stairs. Tessa held her breath.

“Finish this,” the Master ordered, “and feed him to the alligators.”

Howard, the bald man with the big nose, who leered at her whenever the Master wasn’t looking, chuckled. “Guess you aren’t as smart as you thought, Mr. Smith.”

“I’m smart enough to know when I’ve grown overconfident. Maybe your Master would be better served to recognize that in himself.”

Silence fell over the room. The Master paused before reaching the stairs and turned to face the man who dared to challenge him.

“Your soldier, Kennamer, liked to brag about how you’re fearless,” Smith continued. “How you’re untouchable.” He shrugged. “Seems funny to me that if that’s the case, you just had a major operation go south on you. But then,” Smith added, “maybe that’s why he also bragged that your god complex would be your downfall.”

A moment, then two, of thick silence.

Tessa’s heart stumbled to a near stop.

“Can we kill him now?” Brooks suggested.

More of that heavy silence.

“Perhaps not just yet,” the Master said.

Surprise flared beneath Tessa’s breast. The Master never showed mercy like this. Did he fear that Smith was right? She gave her head a little shake. Impossible.

“Perhaps,” the Master went on, stepping back toward Smith, “we’ll interrogate Mr. Smith once more after we’ve all had some rest. We’ll have a fresh perspective then.”

Tessa tilted her head back and watched the Master climb the stairs. If he checked her room and found her missing … No, stop, he wouldn’t. He trusted her to do as she was told after so many years.

Howard kicked Smith’s chair and cursed about the missed opportunity to feed the pets.

Tessa shivered at the thought of the swamp surrounding this awful place. Howard and Brooks fed the gators regularly to ensure the beasts considered the area a generous feeding ground. Anyone who stumbled onto the property would likely never make it even close enough to enter the electronic surveillance field.

The whole compound was off the grid. No landlines for communications. Even the power was provided by a massive generator. And the water was obtained from the property and directed into the house via a state-of-the-art filtration system.

Tessa doubted there was more than a dozen people who even knew of their existence deep in the wooded swampland outside New Orleans.

But now someone did … this man, Smith. He knew. He was here and still alive.

Anticipation fired through her as Brooks and Howard stomped up the stairs. The overhead lights extinguished, leaving the room in almost total darkness. Only the dim lights from the electronic equipment provided minuscule illumination.

Did she dare question this Smith herself? Could he possibly possess information that would help her? Hope bloomed despite the years of desolation that had left her soul barren.

Smith would die in a few hours. That was a certainty.

He presented no peril to her.

Still … he could tell the Master that she’d come down here.

“Are you going to come out now?”

The air in Tessa’s lungs evacuated.

“They’re gone,” Smith said.

He’d seen her sneak down the stairs!

She chewed her bottom lip. Would he assume he’d been hallucinating if she didn’t move and didn’t say a word?

“I know you’re there,” he murmured, his voice weaker now. “You might as well come out.” He made a muffled sound, like a laugh. “I’m obviously in no position to do you harm.”

But getting caught talking to him could get her killed.

Tessa couldn’t bear to think what would happen to the child then.

That familiar ache of fear sliced through her.

“I could use a drink of water.”

Tessa blinked away the terrifying thoughts.

“Please.”

The desperation in his plea touched her heart … but he was one of them.

A man who earned money by stealing children.

She couldn’t trust him.

Defeat pressed in on her.

She couldn’t trust anyone.

Chapter Three

As much as the desperate urge to escape clawed at him, Riley’s fascination with the girl—no, the woman—staring wide-eyed at him held his full attention.

This was Tessa Woods.

He’d carefully reviewed her file. Studied the photos of the sweet seventeen-year-old with the silky blond hair and huge blue eyes. Her friends and family had labeled her sweet and kind. Intelligent and earnest. But naive and far too trusting.

Was that why nearly six years later she was still alive?

Or had she been brainwashed into becoming as ruthless as those who’d taken her while on a high school senior class trip only a few miles from her small hometown in Mississippi?

The well-worn, pink flannel gown fell loosely around her but as she’d moved toward him the soft-looking fabric had molded to her slim frame. He wanted to tell her how desperately her family had searched for her all these years. How they even now held out hope that she would return to them.

But Tessa Woods was twenty-three years old now. Chances were she was not the sweet, naive young girl she’d been when abducted by these bastards.

“Just a drink of water,” he murmured, careful to keep his voice low and unthreatening. “That’s all I’m asking,” he assured her, when in truth he was asking for the world. That she would help him bring down this operation … that she would be unchanged.

She reached up. He tensed. Slender fingers brushed her hair behind her right ear.

As slowly and thoughtfully as she’d approached him, she turned and padded barefoot across the room. He’d already inventoried the array of torture devices. There was an electrical shock station, one for water boarding and what appeared to be a carving area. Lots of box cutters and knives.

Just the sort of place a guy wanted to end up.

The woman he was convinced was Tessa Woods picked up a large beaker from the water-torture area and held it beneath the faucet. She glanced at the staircase before turning on the faucet just long enough to run a few ounces of water. Then she moved toward him once more. She was nervous. She checked the stairs twice crossing the room. Whatever her position in the organization, she obviously wasn’t supposed to be down here.

Standing before him, she hesitated before extending the beaker to his mouth. She kept her gaze on his mouth as she tilted the beaker. He watched her face, assessing her trepidation. She was definitely scared. Of him, of being caught. Maybe of the truth.

Did she remember her life before? Or had these lowlifes ensured that history was buried so deeply that she wouldn’t ever recall? Victoria Colby-Camp had told him of how her son had been brainwashed in just such a way. His memories had been twisted to the point that he had firmly believed his parents hadn’t loved him and had abandoned him. Had this woman suffered the same?

The water trickled down his chin. She drew the beaker away and he licked the dampness. Holding the glass container with both hands, she dared to meet his eyes.

“Who are you?”

His chest contracted at the sound of her voice—gentle, quiet, filled with tentative wonder. “Russell Smith. And you?”

She chewed her lip a moment before answering. “Tessa.”

Anticipation detonated deep inside him. “Tessa what?”

Another hesitation, this one far longer than the first. “Just Tessa.” Uncertainty flashed in her eyes before she looked away. “Why are you here?”

The urge to tell her he was here to rescue her, to stop these bastards, nearly overwhelmed him. But he couldn’t take the risk. For all he knew at this point, she could be one of them.

“I’m here to help,” he hedged, choosing his words carefully.

“You’re a new soldier?” She didn’t bother looking away this time, allowing him to see the disappointment tinged with anger in her eyes. The same emotions that altered the pitch of her voice ever so slightly.

He shrugged. “Maybe.”

Her fingers visibly tightened on the beaker. “Why are they interrogating you?”

“Isn’t that routine?” His jaw throbbed from the punches the two goons had taken turns throwing. “Don’t they do this to every new recruit?”

She moved her head side to side. “Only the ones who double-cross them or try to hamper their efforts.”

“What about you?” he ventured. “Are you a soldier?”

Another shake of her head.

“Daughter?” He searched her face for a tell-tale emotional reaction. The guy who called himself the Master was old enough to be her father. But Riley knew better. This was Tessa Woods. “Wife?”

Her shoulders lifted then fell. “I belong to the Master.”

Indignation knotted in his gut. This was going to be every bit as sick as he’d suspected. “The Master?” He knew very well who she meant. The bastard in charge. He hadn’t given his name. The two who’d brought Riley here, and then used him as a punching bag, had only referred to their boss as “Master.” “He doesn’t have a name?”

“We’re forbidden to speak it.” She turned away from him and returned the beaker to its place.

The way she took pains to see that it was placed exactly as she’d found it warned again that she feared being discovered, now or later, down here with him. That she dared to take the risk suggested one of two things. Either the Master hoped her innocence would draw out the truth or she was in the market for help.

Too soon to tell.

What he needed was time.

Unfortunately that was a luxury he didn’t have. The Master and his henchmen hadn’t completely bought his story so far and there was a very great likelihood that in a few hours he would be a dead man.

“Tessa?”

That he called her by name appeared to startle her.

“Any chance you could cut me loose?” He shrugged. “If they’re just going to kill me, I’d rather miss that part.”

Her gaze drifted to the stairs again, before settling on his. “Tell them Renwick was responsible for the ambush. That he sent you, but you’re willing to negotiate your alliance.”

Talk about surprised. Here he’d thought the lady was this innocent little angel but she was talking ambushes and negotiations. “And that’s supposed to keep me alive?” Oh, yeah, he could definitely see how admitting that the enemy had sent him would do the trick.

“His people recruited you.” She thought for a moment. “Phipps. Tall, thin, red hair. He offered you a hundred thousand to set up a takedown. You never met Renwick. Only Phipps.”

“Telling them that I’m a mole doesn’t seem like a good plan to me.” His wrists were burning from the tightness of the ropes but that was the least of his problems at the moment.

Those big blue eyes stared right through him, as if she hoped to penetrate his brain and make him pay attention. “It’s a good plan.”

She turned and started for the stairs.

“Maybe I’ll just take my chances with the truth.” Might as well cover all the bases … just in case.

Tessa paused at the bottom of the stairs and met his gaze once more. “Then you’ll die.”

TESSA CHECKED THE SECURITY peephole before activating the latch to enter the library. She held her breath until she confirmed that there was no one in the room.

The pressure of the air seemed to change as she closed the door leading to the basement and held still to listen. The silence continued to linger in the air.

Counting him, there had only been three people in the questioning room and two patrolling the grounds.

If the others were in their rooms for the night, she should be able to reach her room without incident.

She checked the entry hall before leaving the library. The house was completely dark but she knew every square foot. Learning the furniture placement had ensured she never bumped into a table or chair. The slightest noise would bring trouble.

A loud thump echoed. Tessa froze. Outside, she determined. Another solid thump.

Car doors.

She hurried to the nearest window. Two SUVs had arrived. Five, six, seven … she counted seven men loitering around the vehicles.

The soldiers.

This was downtime. No ongoing operations. Two of the patients were ready for delivery. Risks weren’t taken during this time.

Had the arrival of the man downstairs, Smith, generated all this activity?

“Tessa.”

Her blood froze in her veins. Turn around. Face him. She knew better than to ignore him even for a second.

She faced him. “Yes?” Her mind spun with usable excuses for why she was not in her room. The key in her pocket seemed to burn her skin through the flannel.

He allowed her to carry a key. One key that fit the lock to the children’s room and that of the patients as well as her own room. If she angered him, he would take the privilege from her.

“What’re you doing down here?” He turned on a table lamp and assessed her for several seconds. “You should be asleep by now.”

“Everyone else is asleep. The doors slamming outside woke me. I was worried.” She gestured to the window. “Is something wrong?” Her voice sounded a little shaky. She prayed he wouldn’t make something of it.

“There’s nothing for you to worry about.” He motioned for her to come to him. “Your attention is needed elsewhere.”

Tessa moved close enough for him to take her arm. The feel of his hand on her skin made her sick to her stomach. “I guess I’m a little anxious after what happened in Alabama.”

“A nuisance.” He guided her to the stairs. “Nothing more. No need to fret.”

She nodded. “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s a busy time,” he offered with uncharacteristic understanding. “I’ll expect you to be well rested in the morning.”

Her head moved up and down of its own accord, proof of her comprehension of his advisement. That he seemed unfazed by her forbidden action made her all the more nervous. She forced one foot above the other, climbing the stairs without looking back and hoping that would be the end of it.

“Tessa.”

Fear swirled wildly in her belly. She turned back, keeping her hand planted firmly on the railing, her feet braced to run. “Yes.”

“Do not mistake my indulgence of your behavior tonight for a softening of the rules.” He pressed her with a harsh gaze. “You know the rules. I will not tolerate another infraction. Not even from you.”

“I understand.”

Turning her back to him and climbing the remainder of the stairs was the hardest thing she had done in a long time. She had taken a major risk coming downstairs after curfew.

If he discovered just how far she’d gone in breaking the rules Mr. Smith wouldn’t be the only one dying tomorrow.

Chapter Four

Chicago, Sunday, December 27, 7:00 a.m.

Victoria Colby-Camp poured another cup of coffee and held it tightly in both hands. She needed the warmth. The city remained blanketed in snow, but that wasn’t the reason she felt chilled to the bone.

Eight hours had passed with no contact from Riley Porter. Levi Stark, another of her investigators, and FBI Special Agent Lee Ross had lost visual contact on Riley before midnight. The tracking devices had been dumped in the parking lot of the rendezvous location.

There had been no word since that revelation.

Victoria had not slept in the same. Finally at six this morning she had joined her son, Jim, here at the office. There was little she could do, other than pray, but just being here made her feel more involved.

Words could not adequately describe the relief Victoria felt at her agency’s accomplishment over the holiday weekend. Sixteen children had been recovered. But the recovery had not stopped this ruthless organization.

She exhaled a heavy breath and moved across the lounge to peer out the window. Daylight had crept across the snow-laden streets, but the sun remained veiled by the heavy clouds. More snow was on the way.

She thought about the file on Tessa Woods the Bureau had provided. The Bureau contacts in Mississippi had insisted on notifying the family. Victoria had considered the move a mistake despite the fact that Von Cassidy, a trusted Colby Agency investigator, had been nearly certain the blonde woman she’d encountered had been Tessa Woods. There was still a chance it wasn’t her.

No matter. Julia and Warren Woods, the parents, had already contacted Victoria. The telephone conversation had been emotionally excruciating. Von had agreed to meet with the parents and answer any questions. The parents had flown to Nashville. Von and Trinity Barrett had left their Gatlinburg getaway long enough to make the trip to Nashville. Like Von, the parents were convinced that the blonde woman was indeed their daughter.

Riley Porter’s mission was to find a way to bring down the organization and to recover Tessa Woods, as well as any other victims.

Worry twisted in Victoria’s chest. She pushed it away and lifted her chin in defiance of the nagging doubts. Riley was highly trained. As a Navy SEAL he had rescued hostages and colleagues amid far more treacherous conditions. Victoria had complete faith in him.

“Mother.”

A smile lifted the corners of Victoria’s lips. Her heart still fluttered when her son called her Mother. She turned to him. “Any news?”

Jim freshened his coffee, then shook his head. “Not yet. Agent Ross and his team have begun a discreet search. Our man Stark is working on an avenue of his own.”

Levi Stark was another outstanding Colby investigator. If he had a lead of his own, Victoria felt confident it would prove worthwhile.

“Any word from the task force?” she asked, hoping Jim had heard something she hadn’t.

He shook his head. “But,” he qualified, “with the number of great and determined minds we have working on this case, I’m certain we’ll have a break soon.”

Victoria nodded. The Bureau here in Chicago, in Huntsville, Alabama, as well as in New Orleans, had formed a task force to stop this ruthless ring of bastards.

It couldn’t happen fast enough to suit Victoria.

“I saw on your desk calendar that you have an appointment with your doctor next week.”

“Just a routine physical,” Victoria assured her son.

“I’m a few months behind. My doctor isn’t too happy with me.” She sipped her coffee. “But I’ve been a little busy lately.”

Judging by Jim’s expression, he wasn’t going to let it go quite so lightly. “Keep the appointment. I don’t want you ignoring your health.”

A smile widened no matter that she knew he was very serious. “I will keep the appointment. My health is important. I have two beautiful grandchildren who need me.”

Jim’s gaze locked with hers. “I need you.”

Emotion expanded in Victoria’s chest. “Well.” She took a much-needed breath. “How are the negotiations going with your buyer for the Equalizer shop?”

“He’s willing to pay above asking price.” Jim shrugged, his expression puzzled.

“You’re not happy about that?” Seemed to Victoria that above asking price would be the optimum desirable situation. Particularly in this economy.

“We’re this deep into negotiations,” Jim explained, “and he still refuses to reveal his identity. His attorney claims the man just wants to maintain his anonymity. That he’s a philanthropist and intends to use the Equalizers as a way to help those in need, particularly those who don’t have the financial resources to help themselves.”

Now she understood his unease. “Sounds too good to be true.”

Jim nodded. “You know the adage. Whenever something sounds too good to be true, it usually is.”

Victoria hoped that the idea that Tessa Woods was still alive wasn’t too good to be true as well.

Chapter Five

New Orleans, 8:25 a.m.

This was going to hurt.

Wrists bound above his head and feet swinging several inches above the concrete floor, Riley braced for the coming pain.

Brooks shoved the paddle against Riley’s abdomen. Electricity roared through his body. His muscles convulsed. His teeth clenched.

“You still sticking to your story?” Brooks demanded. “Don’t have anything else to share?”

Riley struggled to catch his breath. “I’ve told you all there is to tell.” His muscles burned. His shoulders throbbed with the effort of supporting his full body weight. His jaws ached from clenching his teeth. “I just want to keep my job and stay out of prison.”

Brooks thrust the paddle at him again.

Riley’s body shuddered. Fire seemed to ignite across his skin. His stomach clenched.

“Just kill him and get it over with,” Howard suggested. “This is a waste of time.”

Brooks laughed. “I’m not done yet.” He reached toward Riley once more.

“Wait!” Riley heaved a halting breath. “Wait,” he muttered.

The smile on Brooks’s face spread into a spiteful grin. “I thought you might change your mind.”

Riley had held up through more than an hour of physical torture. He could have tolerated more, but the end result would have been the same. Death. These guys had no intention of allowing him to stay alive.

He had nothing to lose by going with Tessa’s suggestion. If it was a setup, made no difference. At this point he was dead anyway.

“Renwick was behind the ambush in Alabama,” Riley muttered. The aftereffects of the shock treatments were making his body tremble. “He tipped off the feds. One of the feds passed along the tip to a friend in Chicago.”

“What friend in Chicago?” Howard demanded, skeptical.

Riley lolled his head back long enough to draw in a deep breath, then met the man’s gaze. “I don’t know. Some P.I. Doesn’t matter. It’s the feds that’s on your back now. Renwick thought they would take down your organization. He was ticked off when the operation failed. He wants to be number one.”

Brooks made a slow circle around Riley. “What do you know about Renwick?”

Riley didn’t have a lot to go on. He’d just have to wing it. “I know he wants you and your boss to go down. That’s what I know.”

Howard and Brooks blasted the air with expletives, then Howard said, “You think telling us this is going to save your butt?”

Well, so much for that plan. “Do what you gotta do, man,” Riley said, feigning defeat. “I’m telling you that the feds are the least of your problems. Renwick is hell-bent on coming out on top, which means you have to go down.”

“If that bastard knows what’s good for him,” Brooks snarled, “he’d better stay in his own territory.”

Riley licked his cracked lips, tasted the blood. His jaw wasn’t broken but it had taken another beating. “I think he’s planning a takeover of your territory.” That was a shot in the dark. Judging by the fury that claimed both men’s faces, he’d hit the target.

“The SOB has a death wish,” Howard growled. He eyed Riley a long moment. “What exactly were Renwick’s orders? I can’t see him trusting an operation this big to one guy. Especially one like you.”

“My job was to get in,” Riley said. “Get the layout of your headquarters and find out what you had on the schedule for the next couple of weeks.”

“Too bad—” Howard moved in close to Riley “—you failed.”

Riley breathed a chuckle. “Two out of three ain’t bad.”

The muzzle of a weapon bored into the soft underside of his chin. “How,” Brooks asked, his voice riddled with anger and scorn, “are you supposed to pass along information? Is there a tracking device?” He sneered. “I know you don’t want us to start searching the only logical places.”

Riley definitely wasn’t game for a cavity search. “He knows what you lost in the ambush and that I’m in New Orleans to make contact. That’s it.”

Howard shook his head at his pal. “He’s lying. No way Renwick sent him to us without a tracking device.” He shifted his attention to Riley. “All we have to do is find it.”

“I swear,” Riley urged, “the only tracking device I had was in the heels of my boots. You dumped those last night, with the rest of my clothes, in the parking lot at that bar.”

“Get the Master.”

Howard glared at Brooks. “We can handle this.”

Brooks shook his head. “Get him. Now.”

Howard glared a bit longer at the man who was obviously his superior before following the order. Riley relaxed as best he could considering he hung like a side of beef from the hook in the ceiling.

Tessa had given him an out. What did that mean? Was she truly a captive? Even after all these years? Had she intended to help him? Maybe this whole thing was a sham of some kind. A game she had initiated. Who knew how warped her mind might be after spending nearly half a dozen years with these sickos.

Brooks crossed his arms and stared at Riley. Riley ignored him. Instead, he focused on what he needed to accomplish his mission. The Master’s identity. If no one called or knew his name, then a DNA sample would be necessary—assuming he was in the system. Prints might serve the purpose. Riley needed as much information about the organization’s operation as possible. Tessa may or may not have some knowledge of how things worked.

And he needed to get her and any other captives away from here.

Away from the lunatic who called himself the Master.

Footfalls on the stairs drew Riley’s attention there.

“Now we’ll see how much longer you’ll keep breathing,” Brooks warned.

The Master, wearing his high-class designer suit, descended the final step. He studied Riley for a time before moving toward him.

He stopped a few feet away. “Renwick sent you, did he?”

Riley’s tension ratcheted a little higher. “Yes.” He infused all the humility and desperation he could summon into the single word.

“How is my old friend Renwick?”

Trick question. “I wouldn’t know,” Riley said, suppressing a grimace. His hands and arms had gone completely numb. “My only contact was with Phipps.” He looked the Master straight in the eyes. “You know, tall, thin guy with red hair. He provided my orders.”

“Which were,” the Master pressed.

“To infiltrate your organization and gather intelligence about your upcoming operations.”

The silence that followed had Riley holding his breath.

“Was that the extent of your orders?” Masters demanded.

“I can’t tell you what was said word for word,” Riley confessed. “If there’s anything else, I can’t call it to mind just now.” He glanced up at his bound hands. “This isn’t exactly conducive to brain power.”

“We should just gut ‘em,” Howard suggested. “He’s a waste of time.”

The Master stared at the much shorter man until he visibly cowered, before shifting his attention back to Riley. “Cut him down.”

Brooks and Howard exchanged a look of surprise. “What’re we doing with him?” Brooks wanted to know.

“I haven’t decided,” the Master said as he returned to the staircase. He paused before taking the first step. “Feed him and get him properly attired.”

The man in charge climbed the stairs, leaving Riley in the capable hands of his colleagues. Just his luck.

“This makes no sense,” Howard growled. He glared at Riley. “I think you’re bluffing.”

Riley didn’t bother arguing with him.

“Cut him down,” Brooks snapped. “That’s what the Master said.”

Howard grumbled the entire time but he did as he was told. He climbed onto a stepladder and cut the ropes. Riley attempted to land on his feet but his knees buckled and he crumpled to the floor.

Howard kicked him. “Get up.”

When Riley had gotten to his feet, Howard shoved him toward the stairs. Brooks had already taken that route. As Riley climbed the steps the circulation returned to his arms, but his hands were still tightly bound and totally numb.

At the top of the stairs, Howard pushed him to the left and to another staircase. “Up,” he ordered.

Riley climbed to the second floor. He took in as many of the details as possible in the short time it took to reach the door Howard directed him to. Long corridor, five doors. He hadn’t encountered anyone else. Riley wondered where Tessa was. And why she’d decided to help him.

Every action was propelled by a motive. What was hers?

Howard opened the door and shoved him into the room. “Take a shower. You stink.”

Riley held out his bound hands. “Be kind of hard to do.”

Howard pulled out his pocketknife and cut the bindings, then palmed his weapon. “Make one wrong move,” he cautioned, while Riley rubbed at his wrists, “and I will kill you.” Then he slammed the door, leaving Riley alone in the large bathroom.

Serviceable fixtures. Clean enough. He grabbed a towel from the shelf and slung it over the shower curtain rod and turned on the tap. A glance in the mirror confirmed that he had a swollen jaw, black eye and more than one split in his lips. He shook it off, refusing to let the pain steal his focus.

Once the coveralls were off, he kicked them aside and climbed into the shower.

He stood for a while with the warm water washing over his sore face and shoulders. There were no answers for additional questions. Whatever this Master had in mind for him, Riley had given him all he had. All Tessa had given him. But he had bought some time.