Page 20 of Hostile Extraction

The team flew to Miami and holed up in a hotel room.

Chris’s FBI friend—who was never introduced by name—was already there waiting for them.

Chris tossed his pilot’s cap on the table and yanked his tie free. “She wasn’t in the lineup. What do you make of that? Has your team got anything?”

“We’ve had surveillance on all his locations. Earlier this week, we noticed something. The team didn’t think much of it at the time, but now it could be the key to why she wasn’t there.”

“What did you find?” Dusty snapped, desperation filling his gut.

“There was a man we’ve identified as Dr. Jose Ruiz. He showed up at the Towers. Our guys spotted him out on the rooftop pool of the penthouse. He was examining Asia’s ankle.”

“She’s hurt?” Dusty prodded.

“It appeared she had trouble putting weight on it. We didn’t realize it at the time, but now we think she may have injured herself to the point of not being able to partake in the auction. They can’t get top dollar for damaged goods.”

Dusty froze from his pacing. “Then let’s go get her.”

Chris put his hand up and looked at his contact. “Do you think she’s still at the penthouse?”

The man shook his head. “We believe she may have been moved.”

“Goddamn it,” Dusty bit out, dragging his hands over his face. “Where?”

“Amorosi’s jet flew to the Virgin Islands the day before the auction. He always attends the auctions, so when his plane left the Virgin Islands for the Bahamas the following day, we thought we were still on, and that everything was still a go. I would have told you if we’d have thought otherwise.”

“You think he left her in the Virgin Islands?” Chris asked.

The man nodded. “He’s got an estate on St. John. Very private. Very protected. Plus, he recently moved his yacht there.”

“What does that mean?” Dusty asked.

“We don’t know for sure. He goes from four locations on a usual basis. She’s got to be at one. The yacht. The penthouse in Miami. The estate where the auctions are held, or the estate in the Virgin Islands.”

“But you don’t think she’s at the penthouse,” Chris murmured.

“My money’s on his place in the Virgin Islands. It’s the only way it makes sense for him to have flown there.”

“Unless he was stopping to pick up the girl they used to fill in for Asia,” Grady offered.

“Could be. Could be he switched out Asia for her at the estate there. But from what we’ve studied, his partner does that dirty work. She moves all the women.”

“She was there. At the auction,” Dusty said. “A silver-haired woman. She was the MC of the event.”

“Silver-haired? Yes, that sounds like Giselle Winstead.”

“So, what about the yacht? Do you think she could be there?”

“He’s constantly moving that yacht. It goes from harbor to harbor, back and forth, or out to sea, like he’s trying to keep it out of eyes.”

“Maybe he stores one of these girls there. He got to keep them separated, right? Only way this scam of marrying them works. If they meet each other, the jig is up,” Chris mused.

“I’d bet money your girl’s either on that yacht or at that estate,” the FBI contact said.

The team looked at each other.

“Who’s up for a trip to the Virgin Islands?”

“I did R&R there a few years back. Just enough time to fly in and meet my girlfriend at the time,” Stan mused. “Fun times.”

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