Page 1 of Lone Star Hostage

Chapter One

----- ? ----

Presley Nolan stared at the bloody shirt in the clear plastic evidence bag on his boss’ desk. It was a women’s size small, sleeveless, and yellow silk. Or rather, it had once been yellow.

Now, the predominate color was rusty red dried blood.

And there was a jagged rip in the fabric near the neckline.

Those were attention-getters, all right. Then again, so was the sticky note attached to the top that had only three words written on it.

From the hostage.

Yeah,hostagewas a gut-punching word, but coupled with the blood and what appeared to be that knife slash on the fabric, this looked damn bad.

Normally, a kidnapper allowed some time for his or her demands to be met before inflicting any kind of injury or violence. Then again, the violence could have happened during the abduction. In his experience, most hostages fought back and resisted if they could.

“A courier delivered the top about forty-five minutes ago,” his boss, Ruby Maverick, explained.

Presley yanked his attention from the top and toward Ruby. “Delivered it here at headquarters?” he asked.

Ruby, who commanded a room just by walking into it, or breathing, nodded.

“Ballsy,” he grumbled.

Maverick Ops wastheelite security team in central Texas, and it was indeed a bold move for a kidnapper to drop off something like that right on their doorstep.

Or rather hire someone to do it.

“A courier brought it?” Presley guessed.

“Yes, and while the cops are still interviewing him, he doesn’t appear to have any connection to the hostage, Victoria Wessington. Report on screen,” Ruby ordered her AI app that controlled all the tech bells and whistles in her office.

A blonde-haired woman’s image popped onto the wall monitor. Victoria Wessington, no doubt.

“Approximately four hours ago at eight AM, Mrs. Wessington was abducted from the parking lot of her downtown office in San Antonio,” Ruby explained. “She runs two foundations and was the only one in the private parking lot at the time. According to her assistant, she’d gone in early to catch up on some work. That was her routine for a Monday morning.”

So, the kidnappers would have known she would likely be there. Later, Presley would want to know the names of anyone aware of Mrs. Wessington’s routine or schedule, but he held back questions and let Ruby continue with the briefing.

“The security and nearby traffic cams were jammed,” Ruby informed him, “but according to an eyewitness who was across the street, two men wearing balaclavas dragged Mrs. Wessington from her office and threw her into a black van. The witness didn’t get the license plate number but did call the police. By the time they arrived, the van was nowhere in sight.”

When Ruby finished, Victoria Wessington’s background info began to scroll across the monitor beneath her photo.

“Aged fifty-two, no criminal record,” he read aloud. “No bio offspring but the stepmother of two adult kids. Married for twenty-eight years to…” Presley stopped because hesuddenly saw the reason for the kidnapping. “Jesep Wessington, aged sixty-nine, real estate mogul and owner of Wessington Diamonds.”

Ruby made a sound of agreement. “He’s reported to be worth about fifty million, along with being the main supplier of diamonds to the state. Victoria has her own wealth though, since she’s the sole heir to her late parents’ global export business.”

“Yeah, that’ll do it.” Those were a lot of reasons for a kidnapper to target the woman.

But it didn’t explain why Ruby had called him in. Or why there were two cops standing at the back of Ruby’s office. Ruby had introduced them as Detectives Albert Delaney and Seth Martinez.

Before signing on at Maverick Ops, Presley had done a stint in military special forces and had then been a cop at San Antonio PD, and while these two were vaguely familiar, he didn’t personally know them. Nor had Presley questioned them—because after Ruby had made the introductions, the bloody top had snagged his attention.

“This arrived with the blouse,” Ruby went on. She motioned toward the sheet of paper beside it that had also been sealed in a San Antonio PD plastic evidence bag.

Unlike the sticky note, there were more than three words, and they were hand scrawled in block letters.

“Victoria Wessington’s right index finger will arrive if demands are not met in a timely fashion,” Presley read aloud. “After that, who knows what kind of dirty, ugly things will happen to her. My advice? Meet the demands.”

---