Page 83 of Forged in Secrets

Grace smiled up at him, wishing that she had time to run her fingers through his auburn hair and kiss him all over again.

“Asher needs my help. We need to find her and head above deck,” Ben commanded, his serious expression returning in an instant. “Stay behind me. If anything happens, run.”

CHAPTER

THIRTY-FIVE

GABE

Gabriel peered through the binoculars as the Hintons strode toward the dock at a slow, natural pace, just as he’d instructed them to do. So far, so good.

They were wired with mics, but he couldn’t risk giving them earpieces and having the kidnapper’s lackeys spot them. Their communication was solely one-way, and it made him nervous. The beach was fairly busy, but so far, he had been able to maintain his line of sight.

Still, there were enough people that keeping an eye out for suspicious activity on his own was difficult. The milling beachgoers weaved across the thick sand, laughing with one another and sipping beers as the ocean lapped at the shore. There were several docks with small fishing boats to watch, and near where he stood there were at least a dozen small buildings.

Trouble could be hiding anywhere, and he had no idea what he would do if he had to deal with a threat. Heneeded backup, but with Ben and Asher otherwise occupied, Reilly on paternity leave, and Cameron holding down the fort back in San Antonio, there was no one else to pull.

He could have sought the help of one of their hired operatives, but this job was particularly sensitive, and he was stubborn.

He thought of his brother Jacob. Maybe someday, he’d come home and join the team. But for now, he seemed content to trek across the world, evangelizing and trying to aid persecuted Christians. Or perhaps he wasn’t content at all. Perhaps he stayed away because he still hadn’t forgiven himself for the sins of his past.

Gabe’s thoughts shifted abruptly as he noticed a man emerging from the crowd and heading straight for the Hintons. He followed with his binoculars, taking note of his appearance. He was Latino, and fit in perfectly with the rest of the crowd in his casual cargo shorts, flip-flop sandals, and bright orange t-shirt. Probably a local hired hand.

The man extended a hand and took hold of Isla Hinton’s forearm. Gabe saw the woman flinch, but she didn’t try and pull away.

For several long seconds he could hear nothing but the crowd surrounding them as the couple and the strange man walked onto the narrow dock where they’d been instructed to meet the kidnappers. Gabe held his binoculars steady as they headed down the worn wood, now far enough away from the rest of the beachgoers that they wouldn’t be overheard.

At last, the man spoke.

Gabe fiddled with the controls on his radio as it crackled, struggling to deliver a clear sound with the voice inclose range of the microphones the Hintons wore. He’d enlisted the help of some of the other FBS technical staff in rigging up the surveillance equipment, but none of their skills matched Ben’s.

“I’m going to give you a sheet of paper, Mr. Hinton,” the man said over the slight static in accented English. So far as Gabe could hear, he sounded calm, almost robotic, like he was following a script. Which he probably was.

“On it, there is an account number and the security information you’ll need. You will borrow my mobile phone, and you will call whoever you need to in order to get this money safely deposited into the account. I assume your people are already waiting to be contacted?”

Gabe watched as Robert Hinton opened his mouth to speak.

“No,” the man said firmly, cutting him off. “Just nod.”

Both of the Hintons complied.

“Good. I’ll talk, you listen.”

The man shifted his weight, and Gabe saw the silvery flash of a pistol holstered at his side. He was only inches from Isla, and considering the wide-eyed look on her face, she had probably spotted the gun as well.

“As soon as the money hits, I’ll know about it. Don’t bother trying to have the cops or your pals at that little security company your daughter works for run a trace. My associates on the other end will have the funds split and routed within minutes.”

“W–we don’t care about the money,” Mrs. Hinton stammered. The man glared at her as she spoke, but she continued. “We just want Grace to come home. That’s all that matters.”

“Good,” he said, nodding his head. “Now get to it.”

Gabe stared through the binoculars, searching Mr. Hinton’s face.

Uh oh.

He watched in horror as the man produced a simple black flip phone and handed it to Robert.

Gabe swore under his breath, glancing around him to be sure no locals or tourists had wandered over to his secluded lookout. “No, no, no, not without seeing Grace,” he said aloud. “Don’t give them the money. Don’t do it.”

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