Page 70 of Fast Justice

“I already told you everything I know,” she snapped, frantic to think of a way to—

He put the pistol to Gabriela’s temple and pulled the trigger.

Rowan jerked back, a scream locked in her throat as the opposite side of the girl’s head exploded into a red mist. The other captives screamed too, started crying.

With that cold, evil stare drilling into Rowan, Montoya flung Gabriela’s shattered head away from him. Her body toppled over and hit the floor with a sickening thud.

Rowan stared at the crumpled heap in horror. Christ.Christ, she was going to throw up. She gagged, was shaking so hard her bones hurt.

“Do I need to do that again to get you to talk?” Montoya asked, his tone almost bored.

Rowan struggled to find her voice. “I t-told you, I—”

He turned away, stalked toward the remaining women.

“No!” Rowan was on her knees now, shoving to her feet even though her legs wobbled. She wouldn’t let him hurt anyone else. She would body slam him, kick and bite. Do whatever she could to stop this.

The chirp of a radio made everything go still, even Montoya. Facing Rowan, he pulled it from his belt and answered. Whatever the man on the other end said made the women in the back gasp.

The beam of the flashlight was lowered, but Rowan could still see Montoya’s face. And the rage that contorted it.

He advanced on her slowly. She lost her bravado for a second, then braced herself and stood her ground. He was going to kill her now. She had to do whatever she could to fight for her life.

Maybe he saw the determination in her eyes, because he gave her a cold, almost admiring smile. “A bullet is too kind a death for aputalike you,” he sneered.

He shot out the hand holding the flashlight. Rowan ducked, the blow hitting her on the shoulder rather than the side of the head as he’d intended. But she lost her balance and fell, landing hard on her hip. By the time she’d scrambled into a sitting position, he was at the far end of the container.

“Adiós, chicas,” he said, then exited the container and slammed the heavy doors shut with a bang.

Rowan sat gasping, her heart hammering in her ears. What was happening?

His muffled voice came from beyond the closed doors, then she thought she heard his footsteps moving away. She swiveled to look at the others. Did any of them speak English? She didn’t know much Spanish, but she knew a few phrases.“¿Qué pasa?” she asked. “What’s happening?”

“No sé,” one of them answered in a frightened whisper.

But she got her answer soon enough, when she got up and tried to shove the doors open with her shoulder. She lurched hard to the left, slamming into the side wall when the container suddenly began moving.

What the hell? They seemed to be going upward.

And then it hit her.

A crane. Someone was lifting the container with a crane. Packing them onto the ship with the rest of the cargo.

****

Cradling his rifle in his arms, Mal leaned forward to get a better look through the Blackhawk’s open door as they neared the port. Another Hawk carrying the rest of the team was circling from the other direction, providing recon for the taskforce from the air. FBI and DEA agents were already on the ground, in the process of establishing a perimeter and hunting for Montoya and his crew, along with Rowan.

CCTV footage had backed up witnesses’ reports of the getaway vehicle there, and someone had seen a bound woman being carried toward one of the ships. Four huge cargo ships were currently berthed in the port. One of the enormous port cranes stationed on shore was hoisting a shipping container high above the second ship’s deck.

Mal scanned them as they circled overhead. Everything was in flux down there, crewmembers and port workers being evacuated from the area, making it impossible to spot Montoya. But with agents posted at all exits, every person was being checked.

To Mal’s left, Hamilton waved his arm to get everyone’s attention and spoke into his mic over the team frequency. “Fresh intel just came in. Montoya might have a shipment leaving from port. A human one.”

A deep, burning rage built inside Mal.Motherfucker. “Any word on Rowan?”

“Not officially. But it sounds like he might try to hide her with the others.”

Jesus fuckingChrist. Montoya thought he could ship her off as part of his skin trade? He snapped his head back around, searching below them frantically. One clue. Something to give away her location. Anything. Where are you, Rowan?

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