Chapter 4

Ripley McConnell rocked back in his chair and stretched. He sniffed the underarm of his t-shirt. Out of consideration for his team, he should probably go home and shower. He tended to work long hours. The office of Stealth Security had a kitchen and a bed, in the event that a particularly intense case required an overnighter.

He’d caught a few hours of sleep there last night, but was a bit ragged. The team at Stealth served as bodyguards to high-profile clients. The VIPs included athletes, movie stars, corporate executives, even a couple of billionaires. Kidnapping billionaires for ransom was a fad that Rip wasn’t fond of, but it was good the company could provide protection.

The Stealth team was Rip’s family now. The bodyguards who worked there were ex-SEALs, just like he was. But he’d been there the longest. When Travis Hewitt had founded the company, his buddy Rip was the first man he’d called. Being on deployment together had created a bond like no other.

Rip trusted Travis with his life, and his boss felt the same. The two of them had launched the bodyguard business, and it had grown substantially since then. Most of the fieldwork was left to the younger guys, not that either of them weren’t up to the task.

But Travis was in his mid-forties, and Rip wasn’t far behind. His boss had a lovely wife, and was as proud as could be of his twin daughters. He had family responsibilities and commitments, which added balance to his life. It was as it should be.

Rip was married to the job. It was his career and his personal life, too. He rode his Harley when he had the opportunity, and downed a few beers with buddies sometimes. But more often, he was at the office busting his butt. He preferred that to staring at the walls of his empty apartment.

Plus, his position as security analyst gave him a chance to use his talents. He’d joined the Navy right out of high school, and had become adept at reconnaissance and surveillance. Technology intrigued him, so he’d become good with the tools of the trade.

He’d stayed through the night to finish the initial security workup on a new client. The guy was one of the billionaires Travis had contracted with, and it was vital that the protection be airtight. It was with each client, but this dude was high profile. It couldn’t hurt to put in extra effort.

Rip pushed back from the desk, then remembered that Cooper had wanted to talk to him. Cooper Brennan was a real asset to the team. The guy had some college education behind him, plus six years as a SEAL. His computer skills came in handy for investigations.

He was a skilled hacker, although he didn’t admit to it. Rip had an aptitude for hacking, too. But Coop, as his friends called him, was a genius at it. If the team needed to know something, their computer tech would find out one way or the other.

As Rip made his way down the hall, Tessa called out, “Rip, I need to ask you something.” He wheeled around and stepped into her office.

Tessa Pate held the organizational side of the business together. It was a rare woman who could manage a team of SEALs, even in an office environment. But Tessa was kick-ass enough to do it.

Rip stood in the doorway. “What can I do for you?”

Tessa’s blond hair was twisted up in a knot on top of her head, and her brow was furrowed. She didn’t tend to sleep over at the office, like Rip. But she put in lots of hours, and handled some tasks from home. It seemed that she wasn’t far away if any of the guys needed her for something.

“Travis has a meeting with our new client over lunch, but I’m missing the security analysis. You’re on it, right?”

Rip saluted her. “It’s done…just about to hit send. Check your email in a few.” He was rewarded with a smile.

“Okay, well, not a minute too soon.” Tessa’s expression returned to all business.

Then Hunter Davis barged in, disrupting the mood. Hunter was one of the newer bodyguards, but he really wasn’t so new anymore. He’d proven himself on many occasions, and had even rescued Tessa from a kidnapper on his time off.

The team treated Tessa like their sister. She was part of the family, and each man was protective of her. Rip watched Hunter saunter up to the office manager and give her a kiss; these days, he was the most protective of her.

Since the near-death experience, the two had been dating. It did Rip’s heart good to see her with one of the team, trusting that she’d be treated right.

Tessa beamed at Hunter, then gave his shoulder a little shove. “I’m working here, Davis. So state your business or move on.”

Hunter was over six feet tall, and built like a small mountain. Yet in Tessa’s presence he was a pussycat. He had a bad case of it for the sassy blonde. At her admonition, he grinned and put his hand over his heart. “Oh, you’ve wounded me…severely. I was sure you were pining for my affection…that you were holding your breath in here, waiting for me to stop by.”

Tessa laughed. “I’m not complaining about the kiss.” She leaned her head against Hunter’s big arm. “Now that you’re here, is there something I can do for you?”

Rip took that moment to duck out. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone.” Then he continued down the hall to Cooper’s office.

The computer tech wanted to get Rip’s input on a couple of things. Although each had their specialty, working together was more productive. In truth, they could do each other’s job, and covered for each other sometimes. In this case, brainstorming a dilemma had led to a possible solution.

“Let me see what I can do,” Rip said. “I’ll get back to you in a few.” So much for heading home to shower…

At his desk, Rip tapped away at his keyboard. It didn’t take long. He’d had an idea about how to get the info Coop needed. He put the data in an email and hit send.

As long as he was still there, he might as well check the sports scores. It was fall, and football season was underway. He’d grown up in Houston, and had family there. He was overdue to see his parents and connect with his younger brother Axel, who worked for the Houston PD. He’d kept in touch, but getting away for a visit just hadn’t seemed to happen.

He was a lifelong Cowboys fan, but also kept tabs on the local team. Football was a way of life; it was in his blood. His younger brother had gone to college at the University of Houston, so he rooted for the Cougars. This season marked the university team as a member of the American Athletic Conference—kind of a big deal.

Living in Los Angeles and working at Stealth was fine. But Rip did miss his hometown. For one thing, any barbecue outside of Texas just wasn’t Texas barbecue, even if the restaurant claimed it was, and no matter how many awards it had won.

His home state was friendly. In LA, everybody seemed busy and stressed out. Back home, there was no such thing as a quick trip to the grocery store, because someone was sure to strike up a conversation in the checkout line. Growing up, he remembered how people waved hello, especially on the back roads.

But Rip’s life had taken him elsewhere. That didn’t mean his attachment was severed. He had folks he cared about there, and that was where his roots were. So he tended to keep an eye on things back home, including the weather, the news…

A press release caught his eye. He scrolled to read it. Two FBI agents dead…a train station security guard injured… What the hell?

Rip devoured the article. The incident involved three gang members linked to the drug cartel. It was assumed that they were after Lela Cabelo, a paralegal in the office of Ortiz and Associates in downtown Houston.

It was bold to attack in broad daylight and gun down federal agents. But the drug gangs in the area had no qualms about killing. Rip was no stranger to that culture. The cartel’s continued terrorizing of the city was something he took personally.

The criminal faction had affected his life, and their activities raised havoc in the area on a daily basis. This new bit of news ticked him off. But that wasn’t all of it.

The murder of government agents was alarming, but what got Rip’s attention was Lela’s story. The woman had been under the feds’ protection. She was scheduled to testify in the upcoming trial of Senator Ortiz.

The article went on to implicate the senator in some pretty serious crimes, including connections with drug lords. He’d been arrested, but was out on bail. That explained a lot.

A dirty politician wouldn’t take it lying down. He’d use everything in his arsenal to keep from going to prison. The arrogant asshole could bully and cheat, but was a coward when it came right down to it. The man wouldn’t last long in prison, and would make every effort to avoid the consequences of his acts.

Rip did some quick research. It wasn’t difficult to find background information. Lela Cabelo had been born and raised in Houston. She was of Spanish heritage. She was thirty-six years old, working in the senator’s law firm dedicated to constitutional law.

That would have put her close enough to be aware of any crimes. But what did she have on Ortiz? It had to be significant if her life was in danger. The feds had been escorting her out of the city to put her under witness protection.

But she hadn’t made it that far. At the Amtrak station, the gang had descended and ambushed the feds. According to reports from bystanders, it had been sudden. Certainly the agents hadn’t expected it, or they would have had backup.

As it was, the gangsters got away. And, much to Rip’s amazement, Lela had escaped. Witnesses had seen her run while the gang members had been engaged with the feds. He couldn’t fathom how she’d accomplished that.

Rip stared at a photo of her. The picture shown in the news release didn’t do her justice. He’d found a few recent ones on social media. Lela was gorgeous. Her Spanish blood gave her an exotic look. She had dark, wavy hair and brown eyes. Her skin’s deep tone and her full lips enhanced her beauty.

She was divorced. For some reason, Rip was relieved to read that. She was none of his business, so there was no reason that he should care.

But Lela Cabelo had just become his business. She was a woman alone, and she was in trouble. He wondered if she realized how deep the trouble went, because he certainly did. She was in a world of hurt with no one to help her.

A woman didn’t just run away from the cartel. The evil sons of bitches would find her. It was only a matter of how long it would take for them to get their murderous hands on her.

Rip wasn’t about to let this disaster run its course—no way in hell. Houston was his home turf, and he knew enough about the cartel to have a chance against them. That was more than Lela had.

There was only one answer. Rip had to rescue her. But first he had to find her. He rocked back in his chair and gazed out the window. Lost in thought, he considered the possibilities. The pieces of the puzzle came together in his mind, and the more he thought about it, the more pissed he became.

He couldn’t stomach the cartel terrorizing then murdering an innocent woman. It was up to him. He was the only man who could help her, and he wasn’t about to let her down.

Rip launched from his chair and headed for his boss’s office. Travis was on the phone, but hung up when he saw the look on Rip’s face. “Is something up?”

Too agitated to sit down, Rip paced in front of the desk. “Go to CNN and search ‘FBI deaths Houston.’” He waited while his boss got up to speed.

Travis read the highlights, then looked up. “That’s some bad shit.” He frowned. “What does it have to do with you?”

“I’ll tell you,” Rip said, pointing a finger at Travis. “I intend to rescue Lela Cabelo.”

“The witness who escaped?” Travis raised his brows. “Do you know her?”

“I know all I need to know.” Rip stopped in front of the desk. “She needs help, and I’m the one who can offer it.”

Travis stared at him.

“I’m the only man who stands a chance of finding her fast enough.” Rip threw up a hand. “The feds blew it. She won’t trust them now.”

“You have a point.”

“Security is our business. We’re in the loop about the cartel. I understand how they operate, how they think, and what they’re capable of. And Houston is my old stomping ground; I know the turf.”

“But how do you plan to find a woman who’s on the run?”

Rip shifted from one foot to the other. “Let me worry about that. I have a couple of ideas.” He started walking toward the door. “I need the jet. It’s about a three-hour flight, so you’ll have it back before morning. I’ll be at the airport in an hour. Instruct the pilot to drop me at Ellington Field. I don’t want to deal with the crowds at the commercial airports, or carry my Glock through security.”

“I’ll have to see if he can get a flight plan for landing at the field…on short notice.”

“Just tell him to get it.”

“Stay in touch,” Travis said. “I don’t want you out there soloing it. You order backup if you need it. Got that?”

Rip nodded. No further explanations were needed. His boss had faith in his judgment.

“I’ll let Coop know,” Travis said. “He can cover for you while you’re gone.”

“Thanks, man.” Rip left, strode back to his office, and grabbed his jacket. It was going to be tight. He had to stop by his apartment to grab a few items he’d need, then race to the airport. His Harley could whip along the freeways faster than his truck, so he’d take that.

The shower would have to wait. When he got to Houston, he’d find some hotel and take care of his grooming. He couldn’t accost Lela with two days of beard growth and smelling like a derelict. That would scare the crap out of her. He’d have to make the effort to get presentable.

But not until he’d arrived. Lela’s chances of survival were slim, and less with each passing hour. Rip would have preferred driving, and to have his truck with him. But he couldn’t afford a two-day road trip. Lela might be dead by then.

*****

Rip stepped off the private jet, carrying his duffel bag. Dusk had settled in, but the weather was mild, with a light breeze. The small airport was ideal for getting in and out of easily. But it didn’t have the usual amenities, such as car rental services.

A cab was hovering at the curb outside the main entrance, so Rip slipped into the back seat and gave the cabbie directions. Once he was in the area, he’d find a place to stay. It wasn’t a neighborhood that was overwhelmed with tourists, so getting a room shouldn’t be a problem.

It would be a thirty-minute drive to Magnolia Park, so Rip checked his phone for the latest news. The train station incident had garnered public interest, and the media kept the information coming. The report was that Lela Cabelo was missing. There were no clues on where she might have gone.

No surprise there. And she’d better stay out of sight a while longer. Rip was getting to her as fast as he could. But it wasn’t like she’d left a trail. Lela was sharp; he’d noticed some details from the background information and come to that conclusion. She wasn’t going to be an easy target, and so far she’d outsmarted her enemies.

Rip hadn’t arrived a moment too soon. According to the news, Lela had escaped early that morning. It hadn’t taken long for the press to get wind of the story and report on the deaths of the federal agents. But no leads had turned up on the location of the paralegal.

Photos of the gang members appeared on the screen, blow-ups of pictures taken on a train passenger’s cell phone. The images weren’t close-ups, but Rip recognized the tattoos. He shuddered. The gang after Lela wouldn’t mess about.

His goal was to find and rescue Lela without tipping off the cartel. The soulless gang tasked with tracking her down had contacts that penetrated deep into the city. Any sign of her would be reported, and the cartel minions would act fast, showing no mercy.

Rip feared for Lela, but it was good that she’d been on the run for less than twenty-four hours. She might outsmart the gangs for a day or so, but that wouldn’t last. He would get there in time, dammit, and protect her from a fate she didn’t deserve.

He had his own issues with the cartel, a score he hadn’t been able to settle. But this was not the moment for emotions to intervene. His mission was all about Lela. His focus had to stay laser sharp. The window of opportunity to connect with her might snap shut at any moment, so he’d best not allow any distractions.

The cab arrived in Magnolia Park and dropped Rip at an Econo Lodge. He paid and got a room. The lodge was sufficient for the night. This wasn’t about a luxury vacation; just the essentials were required. He dumped his duffel on the bed and retrieved his travel kit.

The shower was adequate and the hot water relaxed his muscles. He washed, shaved, and tended to his grooming. He let his long hair dry on its own, forgoing the use of the hairdryer bolted to the wall. Feeling human again, Rip sat in the one available chair and scanned maps of the area.

He knew Houston like the back of his hand, or he had. But it had been years, and he couldn’t afford any mistakes. Things might have changed: establishments might have closed, or neighborhoods altered by renovations. So he scoped it out as best he could to be as prepared for the following day.

Next on the agenda was dinner. Rip would have gone after Lela immediately. But it was dark outside, and lurking in the neighborhoods where he planned to go was best done in daylight.

There was another factor to consider—Lela had no idea he was coming for her. He was a stranger, and as such, it would be bad judgment to approach her in the dead of night. The last thing he wanted was for her to run from him.

Rip found a burger joint and devoured a double cheeseburger with fries. He had a milkshake with it for good measure. Missions had taught him to eat when the food was there, because there was no assurance of when the next meal would be available.

He needed his strength. The cartel and their flunkies weren’t lightweights. They fought bloody and to the death. And Lela was depending on him, whether she knew that yet or not.

With his belly full, Rip retired to his room for a few hours of sleep. He set the alarm for before dawn so he could be at his first destination by daylight.

*****

The next morning, Rip was up and out of the room when it was still dark out. He’d done a quick check on his phone. The media had no new information on the Lela Cabelo case. She was still missing, and the FBI had very little to say, other than they would do everything in their power to ensure her safety.

Lela had to be scared to death. She was isolated, with nowhere to turn, unable to tell anyone where she was. Before a day ago, Rip hadn’t even heard her name. But after looking into her background, and witnessing her brave move in the face of danger, he knew quite a bit about her.

One thing that Rip was sure of was that Lela thought like he did. She was a fighter, a loner, and functioned well independently.

Rip knew what he’d have done in her situation. He had to assume she’d done the same, and hoped he was right. But there were no guarantees.

He didn’t bother to get a car, since he could navigate on foot. Walking was preferable to cruising along the streets while peering out the window like some predator. This way he could fit in, blend with the residents. He had enough of his mother’s Spanish blood in him to look like he belonged in the community.

Magnolia Park was on the east end near the port, and was one of the oldest Hispanic neighborhoods in the city. It was early morning; dogs barked, kids played in fenced yards, and cafes were open for business.

Rip strolled along the sidewalk, second-guessing his tactic. He had a pretty good idea about the areas where Lela would go. But there was a lot of ground to cover. He looked at a pink adobe building offering breakfast all day.

Lela would have to eat, but chances were that she wouldn’t go out in the open. That eliminated the park and any well-known hotels. But she had to be around; Rip could feel it in his bones. He knew he was right.

While the feds and the cartel would assume that Lela had run, she’d done no such thing. It was a clever move on her part. It was logical that a woman terrified of being caught by either faction would get as far away as she could.

How far that was depended on her resources and how much money she had with her. Using credit was out of the question; any movie-goer knew that. So her pursuers were trying to figure out which direction she’d gone, and what her destination would be.

Yet Lela had done the one thing they hadn’t suspected. Rip was positive that she hadn’t gone anywhere. Contrary to common logic, she’d stayed right where she was. The best place to hide was under their noses.

Sooner or later, the bad guys would figure it out, by process of elimination. But that bought her time. It was smart. It was how Rip would have done it. He was proud of her, and he hadn’t even met her.

He was here first, and he was certain that he was the only one who’d figured out her location. That could change in the blink of an eye, so he needed to get sharp and find her quick. The only thing was that there was no sign of her.

He wasn’t sure what he’d expected. Did he think he’d just show her photo around until he found someone who had seen her? That was a sure way to bring down the fury of the cartel. Word of someone looking for her would spread like wildfire, with whispers through the community that led back to the gangs.

Rip had to do this alone. He had to think like Lela. Where would she be?

She’d come to the communities where she felt safe. It was easiest to hide in the city among friends, to disappear in familiar neighborhoods. She’d grown up in the city, just like he had. The gangs didn’t necessarily hang out in the places she knew, so they would lag in finding her.

Magnolia Park wasn’t giving him any joy, so Rip hopped on the green line, the Metro to Second Ward. Hopefully, that would be more promising. The area was called Segundo Barrio by the residents, or second neighborhood. It had been one of the first Mexican-American barrios in the city.

One of the historic plazas east of downtown might hold the answer. If Lela couldn’t be out in the open, then where would she go? Where was it safe? Where could she duck out of sight without fearing for her life?

Rip’s pulse kicked up a notch. It dawned on him. He knew where she was. The Second Ward was home to Our Lady of Guadalupe, a prominent Mexican-American Catholic church. Churchgoers from many neighborhoods traveled to attend services there.

Rip had been there many times, and no doubt Lela had too. It was a safe haven, a temporary respite. It had constructed one of the first schools for children in the neighborhood, and operated programs that provided food and shelter for needy individuals. Lela was a woman in need, and would have been welcomed—if she’d shown up there.

The brick church stood proudly at the edge of a crumbling sidewalk. It was a weekday, so there were no throngs of parishioners. It would be too much to hope for that Rip would walk inside and find her kneeling in the pews.

He stepped inside the cool interior to find it empty. There was no sight of Lela, so he went back outside. On the other side of the walkway was the brick schoolhouse. He casually walked up the sidewalk, hearing the sounds of children in the classrooms through the windows.

Behind the school was a playground that was vacant. Rip stepped around the corner, then stood under the patio awning, looking at the kids’ slide and the flagpole at the far side of the yard. He dropped his duffel bag on the patio, and wondered if he’d hit another dead end.

A light whiff of perfume feathered into his nostrils, but there were no flowers in bloom. In the next second, a sharp impact to his Achilles heel alerted Rip to an attack. His leg buckled and he stumbled back into the brick wall. In a flash, there was a blade against his neck, so he stilled. The cold knife pressed against his jugular.