Special Forces: Operation Alpha: Saving Sarah (Kindle Worlds Novella) (New Orleans Connection Series Book 7) (5 page)

"Of course, sweetheart.  The waiting is hard, because I want you so much."  He pressed a kiss against her forehead.  "I'll be back to see you tomorrow." 

"I can't wait."  Sarcasm laced her words, but he seemed oblivious to anything but his own thoughts.  She'd gotten a reprieve this time, but it wouldn't last forever.  Because the next time she might not be able to stall him, and once he touched her, took what she was unwilling to give, she was a dead woman.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Ranger grabbed the phone, looked at the caller ID, and answered on the second ring.  "Whatcha got?"

"Identified the guy from Anna's photo."  There was an element of accomplishment in Tex's voice.  Ranger knew Wolf and his team were still deployed out on a top secret mission, and Tex provided their technical support behind-the-scenes and whatever else needed doing, usually off the books.  The man was a master with the computer, and didn't have a problem going through unofficial channels.  It's what got things done. 

"Excellent work, my friend.  Got a name?"

"Peyton Elliott.  Senior at Texas A&M.  Apparently he spent Spring Break with some friends in New Orleans.  He's back at College Station attending classes." 

"Texas.  Not a local, probably why nobody recognized him.  Okay, text me his info and I'll have one of Carpenter's Texas team check him out."

"Don't bother," Tex replied.  "I already had one of my pals who lives in Austin follow up.  He's squeaky clean.  Mr. Elliott remembers seeing your gal dancing, thought she was cute, but he was there with his girlfriend and they left together.  He's alibied for the entire time he was in New Orleans.  Sorry, Ranger, but he's not your guy." 

"Dammit."  Ranger squeezed his eyes shut and ran a hand over his face, feeling the day's worth of scruff.  Disappointment rolled through him.  He'd hoped the picture would lead them to a viable suspect, help them find Anna.  Instead, it was another dead end. 

"I wanted him to be the one. I hate having to tell Sarah we've hit another dead end." 

"Nobody else popping on your radar?"

Ranger paused, thinking about all the people they'd talked to, the improbable leads they'd followed, all with no results.  He'd missed something, some link.  It was probably staring him in the face, yet he couldn't grasp it. 

"Tell you what, Ranger, send me everything you've got.  List the names of everybody you've talked to, no matter how insignificant and let me run it through a couple of programs.  See if anything shakes loose.  Maybe a new set of eyes might make a difference."

"Yeah, it can't hurt.  Gimme about an hour to get it all down and I'll shoot you an e-mail.  Thanks, man."

"No problem.  I want to help you find Anna.  I know what it feels like to search for somebody.  This hits a little too close to home, you know?" 

Ranger didn't know all the details, though he'd heard Tex had to search for the woman he loved, Melody.  He'd gotten his happy ending, and Ranger really wanted Anna's story to have one too. 

"I'm heading out to meet Sarah.  Got a couple of ideas to check out.  I'll shoot you the info before I leave.  Tell Wolf…dammit, I don't know what to tell him.  Feel like I'm failing him."

"Nah, you're doing the best you can.  He wouldn't ask for anything else.  I'll be in touch if anything shakes loose."

"Thanks." 

Ranger stood and yanked his T-shirt over his head, and tossed it onto the corner of the bed.  He'd grab a shower and a shave, then pick up Sarah.  Maybe they'd have better luck today. 

Maybe.

# # # # #

"Come on, baby.  I promise you'll have fun." 

Anna stared up and up, because he was so much taller than her, his brown eyes cheerful and happy, with a twinkle that matched his grin.  She still couldn't believe somebody so gorgeous wanted to be with her.  Especially with all the other girls in the group—he could have picked any of them.  Each one prettier.  Taller.  Curvier.  Yet he'd focused his undivided attention on her.  For the first time since she'd gotten to New Orleans, she felt special.  For the first time since she'd left home, she felt wanted—and she soaked it up like a starving plant would an unexpected spring rain. 

"I don't know.  What about my friends?"

"We're not gonna be gone that long.  Plus, you'll have your phone, and can call them.  It's only an hour or so, and I promise you're gonna love this place.  Trust me, it's exclusive and by invitation only.  You'll never get another chance like this." 

"It doesn't feel right, sneaking out like this.  Maybe I should leave a note or tell somebody where we're going?" 

He shook his head, disappointment evident on his face.  "I thought you were up for a little adventure, but if you're scared, I can find somebody else…"

"No, wait!  I want to go."  She latched onto his forearm, feeling the muscles bunch beneath her fingertips.  Watched his lips curve back into that smile she loved seeing.  She could do this, be the girl he thought she was—adventurous and free-spirited—instead of the scaredy-cat she felt like. 

"We have to leave now."

She gave one last look over her shoulder at her friends, sitting at a table across the crowded bar.  Bimini Jack's was wall-to-wall people and they'd been lucky to snag the table.  They were all laughing and drinking and having fun.  Nobody would miss her if she went with him, and she'd be back before anybody realized she'd left.  Besides, she'd promised herself before coming on this trip she'd do something exciting—something daring—and so far all they'd done was go from club to club dancing.  She wanted to LIVE! 

Looping her arm through his, she grinned up at him.  "Let's go." 

Anna's eyes sprang open as the dream began fading.  Damn, she'd been a fool.  Naïve didn't begin to describe how stupid she felt, trusting somebody she'd just met. 
Biggest mistake of my life
.

Swinging her legs off the side of the bed, she stood and walked into the bathroom, used the facilities, and dug out the toothbrush he'd given her and brushed her teeth and hair.  Such an ordinary and monotonous thing, but somehow this familiar ritual, performing a task she did every morning before she'd been locked away, grounded her with some semblance of normalcy. 

Her fingertips probed at the fading black-and-blue marks around her right eye.  The swelling looked less this morning, though the bruises on her upper arms still stood out in vivid purples and reddish hues against her pale skin.

Slipping on the panties and bra she'd washed out the night before in the sink and hung over the shower rail to dry, she grimaced.  She'd been wearing the same clothes for days, because nobody gave her anything else to wear.  There wasn't much she could do about cleaning the dress, unless she wanted to wander around naked.  That wasn't going to happen, since she never knew when either of her captors was going to show up. 

"I want to go home."  She whispered the words, the same ones she repeated every morning.  Maybe today would be the day she'd figure a way out of this gilded cage. 

The room itself was beautiful.  A gorgeous bedroom with striped white-and-gold wallpaper, it held a classical appeal for its elegant simplicity.  Not really her style, but she knew it was expensive and probably considered tasteful by some hoity-toity professional interior designer.  Thick blue carpet her toes sank into with every step covered the bedroom floor.  A huge king-sized bed dominated the majority of the space, with its elaborate scrollwork headboard of dark cherry wood.  It was a bed fit for a queen, yet she felt like the lowliest peasant, especially since she'd give everything she owned to get out of here and never see that bed again. 

One large window with tempered shatterproof glass took up almost one whole wall, from floor to ceiling, the view stunning.  She knew it was shatterproof, since she'd slammed a chair into it.  The only thing hurt was her arms from the shock of the blow—and her pride. 

High above New Orleans, she was afforded a panoramic cityscape view which spread out before her, taunting her with the outside world, yet she knew the glass didn't permit anybody to see inside. 

It was still a prison, even if the surroundings weren't a metal cot and stainless steel toilet.  A hostage to fate, bad luck, and lousy timing.  And for trusting somebody who didn't deserve it. 

Seeing her face reflected in the glass, she wished her mystery man could see her—find her.  She only saw him in her dreams.  At first, the contact lasted mere seconds, and she hadn't seen his face.  But each time she slept, their contact got longer. 

If he was real, he'd find her.  Search the ends of the earth for her.  He wasn't meant to be her lover—she never got that kind of vibe from him.  No, he was a protector, a warrior who'd fight her demons and rescue her.  He wasn't Prince Charming, and she sure as hell wasn't Cinderella.  But she'd fight with every ounce of breath in her body if he'd only show up. 

She didn't bother turning on the television.  What was the use?  It wasn't connected to an antenna or cable, just to a DVD player, so the only thing she could do was watch movies, and that grew old really fast.  She rarely watched television anyway, too busy with her studies and classes.  Besides, how much TV could she possibly watch before she went stir crazy?  She'd reached that point a couple of days ago. 

At the brief rap on the door, she spun around, her hand at her throat.  Which one would it be?  Of her two choices, she'd take the crazy one every time.  At least he was nice to her—though she knew he wanted more and it was only a matter of time before he wouldn't be put off, wouldn't take no for an answer.   The other one, though?  He scared her.  On a bone deep level he terrified her, because not only was he sane—he was powerful. 

The door swung open, revealing a middle-aged man, one she'd only seen twice, and wished she'd never laid eyes on.  Just her luck, it would be the one man she didn't want to deal with, because he didn't do things on a whim.  He was methodical, which made him dangerous and deadly. 

Dressed in a suit and tie, he looked exactly how she'd remembered him from the other time, the only difference being the color.  His dark brown hair was shot through with reddish highlights and a spattering of gray at the temples.  He looked like the perfect, sophisticated gentleman—except she knew better.

Her hands balled into fists as she stared at him mutely.  It was useless to say anything—he never answered her questions.

"Good morning, my dear.  I trust your accommodations are still satisfactory."  He didn't enter the room more than a couple of steps, as if breathing the same air as her would somehow contaminate him. 

What an a-hole
. 

She didn't respond, simply glaring at him.  He shook his head.  "This really is your own fault.  If you'd minded your own business…"

"My fault?  You son of a bitch, how is this my fault?  All I did was agree to go out with somebody I met at a club.  Was I supposed to know, when he invited me to come back to his place, I'd meet his psycho father?  I'm not the one who shoved an icepick in that guy's eye and killed him.  You did that!" 

He didn't move a muscle.  The only evidence he'd heard her was the frown spreading across his lips.  "This is precisely why you're here.  You can't be trusted to keep your mouth shut." 

"I've told you, repeatedly, I won't say anything.  I'm not an idiot.  My life won't be worth two cents if I tell anybody what I saw.  Wait a sec, I didn't see anything.  I was never here.  I've never seen you before—isn't that how the story goes?  Look, I just want to go home and forget I ever set foot in Louisiana—which will never happen again if I ever get out of this state." 

He paused and studied her face, and she stood frozen, though inside her whole body quivered, waiting to see if he'd believe her—and let her go.  Instead, he gave her a pitying look, turned on his heel and walked away, the lock clicking loudly in the now-closed door. 

Anna crumpled to the floor in a heap, tears flowing, fists pressed against her mouth to muffle her screams.  He'd just cemented her fate and she knew with fatalistic certainty she'd never leave this room again—at least not alive. 

CHAPTER EIGHT

Sarah opened the hotel room door at Ranger's knock.  She'd been up for hours, after tossing and turning most of the night.  How could she sleep, when she didn't know where Anna was? 

"You okay?"  Ranger's voice was laced with concern.  His hand reached up and brushed against her cheek, and she wanted nothing more than to lean into that comfort, and let go of everything.  To take one minute to do nothing but feel something other than hopelessness or fear.  But she didn't, instead taking a step back and ushering him into the room. 

"I'm fine.  Just didn't sleep well.  Hotel beds are never the same as sleeping at home."

"I heard back from Tex.  The picture is a dead end." 

Dang it, she'd been counting on finding out the guy in the photo knew where Anna was or at least remembered seeing her with somebody.  "He identified the man in the photo?"

"Student from Texas A&M named Peyton Elliott.  He remembers seeing your sister dancing, but he never talked to her.  Spent the entire Spring Break with his girlfriend and his friends."

"So, where to now?  I'm not giving up." 

"Never thought you would.  I keep going over the timeline you wrote out.  Anna's friends said they went around to different clubs each night, right?" 

She nodded.  "That's right." 

"I was thinking, Felicia said that half the girls went to Zoner's and the other half went to Bimini Jack's, and that was the group Anna was with.  What if they went back to Bimini Jack's again?  For some of them it would have been their first time there, but Anna had already been there before.  Let's try there again, see if an earlier crowd might remember her." 

Sarah weighed Ranger's words.  It made sense that the girls might not remember Anna going to Bimini Jack's when the group had split up the one night.  They were grasping at straws, but she allowed the slightest bit of hope to build, though she wasn't going to get too excited, not yet. 

"It's too early, they're not open yet." 

Ranger grinned and she felt a quiver shoot up her spine.  The smile changed his face, made him seem lighter, more carefree.  He was a gorgeous man, notwithstanding the scar that bisected his cheek.  It didn't detract from his appeal.  Just the opposite, it made him appear dark and dangerous—the bad boy your momma warned you about. 

And she'd always had a thing for bad boys.  The books she wrote were filled with them.

"I told Remy we'd meet up with him.  Guy's brilliant and he's got those cop credentials so people might talk to him where they won't talk to us." 

"Good idea."  She slid her phone into her purse, wanting to leave, get out on the streets.  Do something.  Anything was better than standing still and thinking about what Anna might be going through, what she was dealing with.  Her imagination took her to some really dark places.  Being a romance writer, she desperately fought against thinking worst case scenarios.  That was fine for fiction—but not for her baby sister.  No, Anna would have a happy ending and come home, where no matter what happened, they'd love her and help her through it—no questions, no recriminations.  As long as she was safe.

"We're meeting Remy at Café Du Monde in about twenty minutes.  From there, we'll make plans on our next move."  He held out his hand and she looked at it for a long second before sliding hers into it.  He squeezed her fingers gently, and quietly led her from the hotel room. 

Within minutes, they'd stepped out of the lobby and onto the street, with people milling around, going about their daily business, and she wanted to scream to the heavens about the unfairness of life.  Anna was sweet and kind and caring.  She didn't deserve to go missing, with nobody knowing whether she was alive or…

"Stop it.  We're not out of options yet.  We
will
find Anna."  Ranger squeezed her hand again, and she felt warmth creep into her face.  This was so wrong.  She felt like a schoolgirl going out for a soda with her first boyfriend, while her sister was heaven knew where or what kind of danger she might be in.  So why did it feel so right to have Ranger by her side? 

"It's not too far if you'd like to walk, or we can catch a cab." 

"Walking's good."  Maybe a brisk stroll into
Vieux Carré
or The French Quarter would clear her mind and wash away the stench of her ugly thoughts.  The hotel she'd chosen wasn't in the official Quarter itself, but outside, and catered to the tourists that flocked the city streets.  It was in a nice enough neighborhood that she felt safe, especially with Ranger by her side. 

As they walked, she took in the beauty of the surrounding city.  She'd barely stopped for breath in her whirlwind course of finding her missing sister, not even to take in the sights and sounds and scents of one of the most beautiful cities in the world. 

"She's magnificent, my French beauty."  Ranger pointed toward a long wrought-iron fence, covered with bougainvillea blossoms, their brilliant reddish-pink color striking against the metal's aged patina.  Brand new shops stood alongside decades' old businesses, proclaiming the once proud city was rebounding from the devastating losses Hurricane Katrina left in her wake.  Yet the people and the places survived and thrived, never once giving up on their heritage.  And it showed in the colorful awnings, the brightly painted doorways, and window boxes along the streets. 

With a hand on her elbow, Ranger led her down one side street after another, pointing out places and things she might have otherwise missed.  He really did know the city and its people.  A few stopped and chatted, asking about his father, or just waved and said hello.  He was unendingly polite to each person, showing them a level of courtesy and respect few people managed in this day and age. 

It made her look at him through a different lens.  With her writer's eye, she could picture him as a knight of old, riding forth to battle to defend hearth and home, or at the demand of his king.  She saw him as a sailor, commanding a brigantine across the stormy waves, a bulwark his men would follow to the icy depths of the sea at his orders, yet he never failed to bring his ship in safely.  He was truly a man of mystery.  One she wouldn't mind exploring to its fullest, if they got the chance—after her sister was found and brought home safely. 

All too soon they'd reached Café Du Monde, with its landmark green and white striped awning, proclaiming itself proudly to its patrons.  Ranger led them to a table just inside the door, one already occupied by a dark-haired man with smiling whiskey-colored eyes.

"Ranger, good to see you.  Ms. Sloane, it's nice to meet you." 

They'd barely been seated before a cheery waitress came and took their orders.  Sarah decided on café au lait and beignets.  She liked her coffee not quite as strong as they served it here in the south with that bite of chicory, and having the hot milk added seemed like a smart move. 

"Find anything?"  Ranger stared at Remy, and Sarah watched the silent exchange between the two men, one of those where they communicated without saying a word.  She couldn't help wondering what kind of relationship they had.  Ranger had mentioned they were friends, but this seemed to be a deeper connection than simple friendship. 
This feels like family
.

Remy pulled out a sheath of papers and laid them on the table.  "Here's everything we've got.  Wish it was more.  Savannah Sloane was reported missing on Sunday morning by the women she'd accompanied for Spring Break.  According to the officer who took their statements, the last place they saw her was at Bimini Jack's." 

Ranger exchanged a look with her.  Maybe their hunch this morning was correct.  All roads seemed to lead them straight back to Bimini Jack's.

Ranger leafed through the pages, handing them to her once he'd finished.  She couldn’t help giving him an I-should-have-seen-these-first glare.  He simply quirked his brow, as if daring her to say something, before turning back to Remy. 

"Who checked out Bimini Jack's?" 

Remy set his coffee cup onto the table before answering.  "Perkins.  He's good.  Has worked a lot of missing person cases, and knows the right questions to ask, and he's good at reading between the lines."  He paused a second before asking, "Have you asked Gator to put out feelers?" 

"Gonna talk to him this afternoon.  He went with Abe on a two-nighter, so he's been out of pocket."  He knew if anybody could get people to open up and talk, it was his dad.  Nobody kept secrets from Gator Boudreau—nobody. 

"Who's Gator?"  She'd been watching the interchange between the two, her eyes darting back and forth between one man and the other.  Remy Lamoreaux was a good looking man, with dark hair and sexy bedroom eyes, but somehow he didn't make her heart skip a beat or send shivers down her spine the way Ranger did. 

"He's my dad."  Ranger gave her a wink when he answered.

Remy chuckled.  "Gator Boudreau is a legend around these parts,
chere
.  If a fly sneezes in Orleans Parish, Gator knows about it.  Ain't nothing happens without word getting back to him." 

Sarah contemplated Remy's words.  If Ranger's dad had his finger on the pulse of everything that happened in New Orleans, maybe he'd have heard something about Anna. 

"What are we waiting for?  Let's go and find him."  She started to rise, and Ranger laid a hand on her thigh, shaking his head.  Flinging herself back into her seat, she crossed her arms, knowing she was acting like a petulant child, but this sitting and doing nothing drove her crazy.

"Calm down, sugar.  He won't be back for hours yet.  I tried calling earlier, but knowing him he's got his phone turned off—if he even bothered taking it with him.  My dad takes his fishing very seriously." 

"This waiting is driving me nuts.  We have to do something!" 

"You are doing something."  Remy's deep voice replied.  "You're following the clues, checking out leads.  This is exactly what I do every single day.  It's tedious and boring as hell, but you've got to stay focused.  If you race off half-cocked, you're going to screw something up and lose valuable time.  I know it's hard,
chere
, but have a little patience." 

She huffed out a breath.  "Fine." 

Ranger laughed and she joined in, lightening the mood.  Sarah glanced his way before turning to Remy, the gleam in her eye warning she was up to something.

"You've known Ranger a long time, right?" 

"Most of my life, yeah." 

"So, how'd he get the name Ranger?  Is it one of those military nicknames, or did he have it before that?" 

Ah, hell. 

Ranger scowled at Remy, who grinned back.  Just like that, she knew he'd tell her, and there wasn't a damn thing Ranger could do about it.  Unless he told her first—

"He's had the nickname since we were kids."  Remy reached over and slapped him on the back.  "Ole Gaston here, well he kinda hated his name, but that's the name his momma chose, and that's what she called him."

"Traitor."  Ranger murmured the word under his breath, though he knew she heard him. 

"Come on, bro, it's a cute story." 

"Wait, if it's going to embarrass him, I don't need to know." 

"Go ahead, blabbermouth," Ranger motioned to Remy with his hand, making the talkie-talkie motion. 

"I guess we were about what, nine or ten?  While the rest of us were outside fishing or pretending to be swashbuckling pirates, Gaston was inside watching every episode he could find of The Lone Ranger.  You know, the old black and white show from the fifties with Clayton Moore.  He spent so much time watching that show and reading all the comics, we started calling him the Lone Ranger.  Pretty soon it got shortened to Ranger, and it kinda stuck." 

Sarah turned to face Ranger.  "I loved that show.  Still do.  Anna and I used to watch it on Saturday mornings."  She studied his face intently, before continuing.  "I guess it makes sense, you becoming a Navy SEAL.  They uphold the same core values that the Lone Ranger did.  I admire that—and you." 

She watched pink tint his cheeks at the compliment.  It didn't matter, because she'd meant every word, though she hadn't intended to embarrass him.  She
admired
him. 

"When he went in the Navy, it's the handle they gave him."  Remy leaned in conspiratorially toward Sarah.  "Don't tell him I said this, but I admire the hell outta him too." 

"Shut it, jerk."  Ranger reached across the table, aiming a fake blow toward Remy's head, which he dodged. 

"Hey!" 

She loved the playfulness between the two men, so at ease with each other.  They reminded her of the way Anna would tease her, and blinked back tears. 

# # # # # #

Ranger caught the smile on Sarah's face, and felt a warmth in his chest.  Her whole face lit up when she laughed. 

The text tone on his phone beeped, and he pulled it out, swiping across the screen. 

It was from his dad.

Got back an hour ago.  In town now asking around.  Head out to the house when you can.  Will let you know what I found out.

Which meant his daddy already uncovered something he'd missed.  He shook his head.  Nothing the man did surprised him anymore.  Sometimes he wondered exactly what his father did at the end of the Vietnam War.  There were a few years Gator refused to talk about—not even to his family.