Navy SEAL Security Read online

  “Warden’s having a press conference.”

  Riley thanked the guard and threaded his fingers through Amy’s as they walked toward the imposing gray penitentiary. “Are you nervous?”

  “No more nervous than usual when I visit him. He always wants to talk about the good old days, and I’m always asking questions.” She squeezed his hand. “Thanks for getting me in here today.”

  He squeezed back. “No problemo, but a promise is a promise.”

  “Colorado? I may need to buy a warm jacket.”

  Since Riley had made the visit request, he had to accompany Amy into the visiting room. The warden had told him that Eli Prescott didn’t rate visits beyond the glass partition, but Amy seemed accustomed to the routine.

  She settled into the plastic chair opposite the bullet-proof glass and rested her hand on the red receiver. Riley took the seat to her right, his knees bumping hers.

  The door beyond the glass swung open, and the guard ushered in a tall, lean man with cropped gray hair. Amy got her coloring from her mother but her body type from this man, this criminal.

  Prescott dropped into the chair across from Amy and leveled a finger at Riley as he picked up the receiver. “Who’s he?”

  “He’s just a friend.”

  Just a friend? God, he wanted to be so much more.

  The blue eyes flickered across Riley’s face, and Riley felt scanned and categorized in that split second.

  “And they let him just waltz in here? Don’t play games with me, girl.” He coughed and covered his face with one bony hand. “You know I lost a son.”

  “Do you want to lose a daughter, too?”

  Prescott jerked up his head. “What do you mean by that?”

  “The same men who killed Ethan are after me.” She gripped the edge of the counter in front of her. “Or don’t you care about that?”

  “It’s that Carlos. If he had delivered the money to the clients as expected, Ethan would be alive and you’d be on the beach somewhere.”

  “What do you know about Carlos? What do you know about the money?” Amy had slid her hand to the glass where she splayed her fingers almost in supplication to her father.

  His hand met hers through the glass. “I don’t know anything, Amy.”

  Riley blew a slow stream of air through his teeth, unaware he’d been holding his breath.

  “Ethan mentioned his deals to me occasionally but never the details. Why would he? How could I help him from here? How can I help you?”

  Amy slumped in her seat, but kept her hand in place on the glass. “I—I don’t know. These people think I have their money, and I don’t have a clue where it is. They’re not going to stop until they find out one way or the other if I have it.”

  “Then get out.” Prescott’s gaze shifted to Riley again. “I’m sure your capable friend here can find you a way out. People disappear all the time.”

  “I don’t want to disappear. I’m always disappearing.” Amy’s voice never quavered for a second.

  Her father tapped his nails on the glass. “I see you’re still wearing your mother’s locket. When did she give that to you?”

  “Do you really want to know?” Amy’s fingers curled against the glass. “She gave it to me as she lay dying in the dirt of the compound under the hot Mexican sun. As the blood and life seeped from her body, she clasped it in her hand and told me to take it. To honor her last wish, I had to lift her heavy hair and slip the chain over her head… I had to take it off her dead body.”

  Prescott dropped his piercing blue gaze. “I loved Loretta and she loved me. I didn’t keep her on the compound against her will, Amy, no matter how much you want to believe that.”

  Riley ached to take this brave woman into his arms and give her license to break down. But she’d never allow it, especially not in front of Eli Prescott.

  Amy sighed, the only sound of her pent-up emotion. “Then you have nothing for me? You can’t tell me anything about Carlos or the money he stole?”

  “I wish I could. I really wish I could.” His gaze brightened. “You’ve searched for keys? Numbers to bank accounts? Computer files?”

  “We’ve searched.”

  Prescott put his hand back against the glass. “Stay safe, girl. You’ve got more gumption than all my other children put together. You always did.”

  Amy uncurled her fingers and pressed the glass. Then she dropped the receiver in its cradle and turned to Riley. “Let’s go.”

  As they left the room, Riley glanced over his shoulder at the beaten man shuffling toward lockup on the other side of the glass. If Eli Prescott could’ve, he would’ve given Amy what she wanted—this time.

  Amy’s low heeled sandals clicked on the tiled floor as they walked down the hallway toward the reception area. The guards in the front were watching the event in the administration building on closed-circuit TVs.

  “Is there a ladies’ room in the administration building?”

  “Yes.” The guard at the desk nodded. “You’ll probably have it all to yourself once this press conference gets underway.”

  Good. Amy needed a few minutes to herself.

  “Are there any vending machines over there?” Riley slid his visitor’s badge across the desk and Amy added hers.

  “To the left once you enter the double doors.”

  Riley turned to Amy as they filed out of the prison into the bright sun. He skimmed his hand down her back, which she held stiff and straight. He figured she had to, or she might collapse into a puddle.

  “Are you okay?”

  Amy brushed the hair from her face and smiled a phony smile, too cheery for their surroundings. “I’m good.”

  “Do you want something to drink for the ride back?”

  “Anything cold and wet.” She fanned her legs with her skirt. “It’s hot out here.”

  Riley pushed open the door of the stucco building, holding it for Amy. They waded through the crowd gathering before the podium at the end of the room. Riley vaguely remembered some news about a possible shutdown of the facility in the next few years. Maybe if they moved her father far, far away Amy would have a good excuse not to visit him anymore. Nothing but disappointment and heartache lurked behind those prison bars for her.

  Amy pointed to the sign on the wall for the restrooms. “I’ll meet you out front. It’s a zoo in here.”

  Riley watched her as she turned the corner, her head held high and her silky hair rippling down her back. He spun around and collided with a reporter. The man’s press badge fell to the floor, and Riley bent down to pick it up.

  “Sorry.” He glanced at the badge from KASD Radio before holding it out to the dark-haired man in the ill-fitting suit.

  Sweat beaded the reporter’s brow as he snatched at his badge. Without a word of thanks, the man turned toward the empty podium.

  With irritation pricking the back of his neck, Riley muttered, “You’re welcome,” to the man’s back and then made a beeline for the hallway to the left of the entrance.

  He sauntered toward the bank of vending machines against the wall, jingling the change in his pocket. He clutched the coins and pulled them out, frowning as he added up the change in his palm. The red light on the soda machine indicated exact change only.

  A woman in a pantsuit, her badge swaying from her neck, jogged toward the machine. She pointed to it. “Are you getting something?”

  “I need exact change.” He bounced the coins in his hand. “Do you have change for a couple of dollar bills?”

  “I might. Hang on.” She pinched open the coin purse on her wallet and stirred the change with her index finger.

  “Sorry, I don’t.” She plucked out a few coins and fed them into the machine as her badge hung forward.

  His brows drawing together, Riley studied her badge. KASD Radio, just like the other guy. They sure had a lot of press here for a little station and a little event.

  Her soda chugged through the machine and clanged into the dispenser. “Ah-ha.” S
he tapped the light on the machine. “It’s your lucky day. I guess my change was enough to break the spell.”

  Riley dragged his gaze away from her badge—red, white and blue, instead of just red and white like the other reporter’s—to stare stupidly at the machine where the red light had gone out.

  “Are you okay? I think you can stuff your bills in there now.”

  Her wide eyes met his over the top of her soda can after she popped it open.

  “Yeah, thanks.” He scratched his jaw and stopped her as she turned away. “You’re a reporter with KASD Radio?”

  “Yep.” She ran her thumb along the ribbon around her neck and held out her badge.

  “I just ran into your colleague, literally. You’re sure covering the warden’s speech thoroughly. Is it that important?” He crumpled the bills in his fist, knowing the machine would never accept them now, but unable to curb the tension seizing his muscles.

  She laughed. “I think you’re mistaken. Our station doesn’t have the budget to send two reporters to a news conference, even if the President himself showed up.”

  The blood roared in Riley’s ears. “There’s only you here from KASD?”

  She nodded, taking a step back, the lines of her face creasing at the tone of his intense questioning.

  “And this is the official badge for the event—red, white and blue?” He grabbed her badge and tapped the hard plastic. The other badge had just been in a plastic sleeve.

  She grabbed the ribbon and yanked the badge out of his hand. “What’s your problem?”

  The blood thrummed through his veins, and his sluggish senses began firing on all cylinders. He had a problem, all right. Amy was alone in the ladies’ room and a rude reporter with suspicious credentials had free reign amidst a crowded building.

  The big story here today had nothing to do with the warden. Amy was in trouble.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Amy stumbled as soon as she rounded the corner to the bathroom, and threw out her arm to steady herself against the wall.

  The conversation with her father had leeched the strength from her bones—not because he couldn’t tell her anything about the money, but because he hadn’t remembered her mother had never removed the gold locket he’d given to his wife. Hadn’t he realized Amy had taken the locket from her mother’s dead body?

  She clutched her stomach and staggered the rest of the way down the empty hallway to the bathroom. She shoved open the door and peered beneath the stalls. Good, she had the place to herself.

  Gripping the sink for support, she peered into the mirror. Despite the turmoil of her emotions, her face stared back at her, placid and serene. She’d gotten so good at hiding her feelings, no wonder Riley hadn’t invited her to Cabo. He probably had no idea how much she wanted to stay with him.

  She cranked on the faucet and splashed cold water on her face. It didn’t help. Nausea swept over her, and she swung around and stumbled into one of the stalls.

  She slid the lock and leaned against the door, laying her hands flat against it.

  She scooped in a deep breath and shuddered as she released it. Fresh air would do her more good than the stale, artificially perfumed air of the bathroom. The sooner they hit the road, the better. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply through her nose until the nausea passed.

  The outer door to the bathroom whisked open as Amy yanked a length of toilet tissue from the roll and pressed it against her lips. The person who had opened that door gave her further incentive to buck up and fight off the sickness. She didn’t want anyone to hear her retching in the bathroom.

  She blew her nose into the tissue and tossed it into the toilet. After flushing, she slid back the lock and took two steps toward the sink. The woman in the other stall hadn’t made a peep yet. Who knows? Maybe she was suppressing her nausea, too. The federal pen could make anyone ill.

  The stall door banged open and Amy jumped. Her gaze darted to the reflection in the mirror—the reflection of a knife blade glinting in the fluorescent light.

  Her blood turned to ice water in her veins as the face behind the knife came into focus. A stranger, a man who wanted to kill her.

  “W-what do you want? I don’t have the money. I don’t know what Carlos did with the money.”

  The man wiped his brow with his other hand, and his eye twitched. “You’re coming with me.”

  A pounding dread beat against her temples. If they believed she knew something, what would they do to her to get answers? She clutched her purse against her side. How would he manage to abduct her in the midst of the crowd, even if he did poke that knife in her side? If she made a run for it, would he stab her in front of all those people?

  Riley would never allow him to just walk away with her. But if he had her at knifepoint, would Riley make a move?

  “I have nothing to give you. No money, no information.”

  The man glanced over his shoulder at the door and ran the tip of his tongue along his lips. “Who is the man who travels with you and protects you? CIA?”

  She swallowed. Maybe she did have information to give them. The image of Ethan’s slashed throat and blood-soaked pillow flashed in front of her eyes. What information had he given them? Whatever it was, it hadn’t been enough, and she knew a lot less than Ethan.

  He gestured with his knife. “Let’s get moving.”

  “You don’t really believe you can march me off the grounds of a Federal prison during a press conference with a knife in my side, do you?”

  “I have to do what I have to do.” A bead of sweat rolled down his face and hung off the edge of his jaw.

  He didn’t like this any better than she did.

  She shuffled back a few steps, but he lunged at her, grabbing the back of her neck with his free hand.

  He pressed the blade against her side and growled. “Walk next to me. If you make a move or cry out, I’m going to slide this blade right into your flesh.”

  Her teeth chattered and goose bumps raced across her skin. Her hip glanced off the door as he pushed it open and looked both ways down the hallway.

  Instead of turning left toward the murmuring crowd, the man veered to the right, his fist pressed against the small of her back and the blade pinching her side.

  Her breath came out in short gasps. He had no intention of walking her through the crowd and possibly past Riley. There must be a back door to this place, and the guards didn’t have to be as alert since the main gates to the prison remained locked.

  A woman’s voice called down the hallway to them. “Is this the way to the ladies’ room?”

  Amy craned her head over her shoulder and felt the blade poke her skin through her blouse. “Yes, that’s it, on the right. We’re leaving now. Enjoy the event.”

  “Shut up.” The man drove his balled-up hand into her back.

  Amy’s too-familiar response didn’t make the woman stop or ask if they knew each other. When they reached the end of the hallway, her captor pushed her toward an exit door at the bottom of a short staircase.

  She had to make some kind of move. She coiled her muscles and jumped over the three steps, crashing into the metal door. She shoved against the bar on the door and tripped outside. But her assailant tackled her to the ground and held the knife to her throat.

  “Don’t be foolish again. I don’t have orders to kill you, but I can cause you severe pain.”

  She swallowed against the blade and nodded as he dragged her to her feet. The exit door had deposited them at the side of the building with the open-air parking lot stretching to their left.

  Amy cast a wild glance around for Riley or some prison guards, but spotted only a few reporters smoking cigarettes at the corner of the building. They weren’t even looking her way.

  The man hustled her toward the parking lot, gaining confidence with each step away from the prison. They weaved through the parked cars, the knife a constant reminder of the threat that faced her.

  She wouldn’t get in the car with him. She
’d fight him off with every ounce of strength she had. He’d already confessed that he didn’t have permission to kill her.

  But he could do a lot worse with that wicked silver blade.

  He reached into his pocket and clicked his remote. The lights of a nondescript gray sedan flashed from its parking space at the end of a row.

  He yanked open the driver’s door and pushed her ahead of him, the knife at her back. “Crawl over to the passenger seat. And don’t think about exiting that way. It’s impossible.”

  She looked across the interior of the car, zeroing in on the stripped panel of the passenger door. No door handle, no way to open the door.

  Tensing her muscles, she gulped. She’d have to make her move now. He’d cut her now, or he’d cut her later, after she gave them unsatisfactory answers to their questions. Might as well make his life as miserable as possible.

  She settled one knee on the car seat, bracing her other leg on the ground, ready to kick back. A scrambling noise behind them caused them both to freeze, and then her attacker grunted and tumbled to the side.

  Amy twisted around, landing on the driver’s seat, her legs splayed before her. Both fear and relief spiraled through her body as she saw Riley bend over the man and punch him in the gut.

  The man groped for his knife, which he’d dropped at Riley’s initial onslaught.

  She screamed, “Look out. He has a knife.”

  Riley dropped onto the man’s body, pinning his wrist with his knee. “Run, Amy. Get out of here.”

  She had no intention of leaving Riley in this parking lot with a madman. Turning toward the steering wheel, she laid on the horn with both hands.

  The stranger, knife in hand, swiped across Riley’s midsection, ripping his shirt. With his other hand, he grabbed Amy’s ankle and yanked her from the car. She gripped the steering wheel, hanging on, her palms sweaty.

  Riley scrambled to his hands and knees, and the stranger kicked him in the throat. As Riley grunted and tumbled to the side, Amy’s attacker launched forward, landing on top of her and waving his knife in her face.

  Riley swayed to his feet. “I’m not going to let you take her.”