“You’re going to find this one interesting,” Sam pushes through.
“Getting information from Townsend is critical.” My words come out argumentative. Can’t help it, that’s how I feel.
“Not arguing that, but this is a time-sensitive mission.”
“Can’t Charlie team take it? Or Delta?” I don’t mention Bravo team. They’re still two men down. Technically, we’re a man down as well. The injury to Griff’s leg isn’t fully healed, and he doesn’t have medical clearance to operate.
“They’re tied up. Not to mention this is right up your alley.”
No way am I arguing with the head of Guardian HRS, but this goes against standard protocol.
“What’s the mission?” Technically, as Alpha team leader, taking on a mission is my call. Refusal is an option. Sam and CJ would never force an operation on a team if the leader didn’t agree.
“Evelyn Deverough,” Sam says.
A picture of a breathtaking brunette fills the screen. Sam’s image shifts to a tiny box in the upper right-hand corner. Not that I pay any attention to him. I can’t take my eyes off the striking woman filling the screen.
College-aged, she looks out from the photo with mesmerizing eyes the color of turquoise seas. A radiant smile lifts her entire expression into a glowing display of jaw-dropping beauty.
“She’s a looker.” Knox shifts in his seat.
A looker?
She’s far more than that. The girl is touched by angels. The hand of the divine had a part in sculpting her exquisite features.
“She’s been taken.” Sam waits for our response, but I’m not sure what kind of reaction he’s looking for.
Evelyn Deverough’s bewitching beauty mesmerizes me, but there’s more. My protective instincts rage against the injustice. Anger pulses in my veins, kicked into a frenzy by the beating of my heart. A strange feeling overcomes me, a possessiveness I’ve never felt before. I don’t understand it. I’ve never felt like this with any of our other rescues, but I feel as if I just got struck by lightning.
There’s no doubt I’ll accept this mission. However, I still need details.
“What’s the story?”
“It’s an interesting one.” Sam’s image enlarges as Evelyn’s shrinks. He stares out of the screen with a fixed expression.
“Why does it feel like I should know her?” There’s something about her face tickling my memory bank. I’ve seen her before. I’m sure of it. There’s no way I’d forget that face.
Sam introduces another photo. It covers Evelyn’s captivating face. Only, in this image, there’s no radiant smile. No stunning beauty. The only thing breathtaking about it is the way fear distorts her otherwise striking features.
Wide eyes. Furrowed brow. Her smile is gone. Her radiance extinguished. Her brilliant eyes dimmed.
“Holy shit.” I’ve seen that photo before.
“Is that…” Knox leans forward. His brows push together and deep furrows crease his forehead. “That was taken months ago.” He looks expectantly to Sam. “Why are we only now getting involved?”
“Indeed, it was,” Sam affirms with a sharp nod. “Three months ago.”
Several months ago, human traffickers snatched Zoe Lancaster, Axel’s woman, off the streets of Cancun during spring break. She and twelve other women were loaded into a cargo container and shipped to Colombia where six of those women were brutally murdered. Zoe would’ve been the seventh if the Guardians hadn’t rescued her in time.
Evelyn’s picture, along with the other girls, was taken as a trophy by one of the men who held the girls in Cancun.
“Who’s the client?” I can’t tear my gaze off Evelyn’s photograph. “And why now?”
“Her father.” Sam leans back.
“Why is he only now looking for her?” We’re Guardians, men who’ll do anything to rescue those who’ve been taken, but Evelyn’s case is cold, like dead cold. “What has he been waiting on all these months?” Something doesn’t add up, but I can’t put my finger on it.
“Carson Deverough has been paying escalating ransom demands.”
“Come again?”
“You heard me.”
“That doesn’t make sense.” I tap the table. The image on the screen shakes as the laptop bounces. “This isn’t the kind of operation that demands ransom, and they sure as shit would never relinquish merchandise once they have it.”
“Exactly,” Knox agrees. “Miss Deverough is much more valuable as a commodity than…”
“Thirty million.” Sam rubs at his jaw. “Mr. Deverough took out kidnapping insurance on his daughter.”
“Thirty?” I tap the side of my head, sure I heard that wrong. “Million?”
“Yes.” Sam nods.
“Kidnapping insurance?”
“Correct, and he’s running out.”
“He’s running out of a thirty million dollar policy? Explain.” I glance at Knox, brows pinched with confusion.
“One week after Evelyn was kidnapped, her father received the first demand. That was April 1st and it was for one million dollars.”
“I take it he paid it?”
“He did, but they didn’t release his daughter. Two weeks later, he received the next demand. This time it was for five million.”
“Is she alive?” I can’t help it, but something doesn’t add up.
“They sent proof of life.”
“I take back what I said.” I gnaw at my lower lip and mull over what I’m seeing. “So, he paid six million for his daughter?”
“Correct.”
“But they didn’t deliver her.”
“Also correct.”
“They’re fleecing him.” I give a shake of my head.
“That’s our take on it. After he delivered the first five million…”
“First?” Knox’s brows climb up his forehead.
“Yes. First. The next demand for ten million came the first week of May. Along with a picture of her holding a newspaper.” Sam flashes another image on the screen.
It’s Evelyn Deverough holding a newspaper with a fake smile on her lips. The girl looks terrified.
“A month ago, a fourth demand was made for another ten million.”
“Don’t tell me he paid that too?”
Sam shakes his head. “He did. Ransom paid on June fifteenth.”
“Damn. That’s impressive.”
“He says they give him a week to collect and deliver the funds. He follows through. They fail to release his daughter and a week later increase the ransom.”
“Fuckers.” I can’t help but glare at the screen.
“He expected to hear from them on the twenty-first. That would’ve been seven days after the last delivery.”
“I take it he hasn’t heard from them?”
“Nothing. No photo. No ransom demand.”
“They fleeced him for twenty-six million. I bet they’re done with him.”
“And that’s why he finally contacted us.”
“Bastard should’ve called us after the first phone call.”