week. But some Mexican drug traffickers had ties with ISIS. Had helped ISIS get men across the U.S. borders to scout out locations for future attacks. If ISIS wanted her, they’d have her. Then God help Poppy.
The thought of her in a terrorist’s hands, tortured, burned, beheaded—in retaliation for her father’s victories against them—made him sick to his stomach. His body tensed, and he grabbed the dashboard. Fuck, if he’d let that happen.
Hold on, Poppy. I’m coming for you.
Chapter Six
‡
P oppy sunk inside herself. No use panicking. She couldn’t help her situation. Whatever her kidnappers’ intentions, they couldn’t be good. When she’d been plucked from the water, her mind had worked at warp speed, imagining every scenario possible until she’d drawn a deep breath and deliberately began to withdraw.
Her abductors hadn’t traveled far, barely a mile down the shoreline until they beached the jet skis, hopped off, and then led her over sand and jagged rocks to a banged-up pickup parked on the side of the road that edged the ocean. Before they’d pushed her inside, they’d tied her hands together with rope and dropped a rough canvas bag over her head and shoulders.
Now, she lay on the small space behind the bucket seats, fighting nausea and panting due to fear and claustrophobia. The fact she was nearly nude and barefoot rankled, making her feel more vulnerable than she had to be. But she didn’t dwell on those facts or let herself think about their destination. Instead, she kept the image of Wiley, with his face reddening from fury, his eyes narrowing. Wiley wouldn’t let this go. Would move heaven and earth to save her. She knew it.
And not just because she was “the job.” He was personally invested and had let down his guard for just a moment. He’d rail against himself, but after he got the rage under control, he’d call upon his skills. He’d find the men who had taken her. She had to believe he’d do it before it was too late.
Unwilling to think about what was in store, she drew back from the precipice. She’d hope this was a kidnapping for ransom. Something that could drag on for weeks or months. Not something more nefarious. Her father would want this situation kept quiet. Off the books. Because if terrorists didn’t know she’d been taken and couldn’t pay her ransom, the men her father had hired stood a better chance of retrieving her.
Eventually, the heat inside the truck cab, and the lack of fresh air from the bag still covering her head, lulled her, despite the bumpiness of the ride. She relaxed, and finally, she gave herself over to oblivion. She’d need to be rested, alert, and ready.
Again, she thought of Wiley. Of the night they’d spent together. She was fiercely glad she’d allowed him into her bed. Sweet and intense, he’d seen to her pleasure. It was just a damn shame they might not have the chance to discover whether they had more in store in their future. She thought he might be the kind of man she could trust with her heart. One who’d weather any storm. A rock she could lean against. Thinking of his warm embrace, she slipped into darkness.
Wiley jumped from the open door of the helo onto the hard-packed dirt airfield. All the operators, who’d come out of the woodwork when Poppy had been attacked, headed straight to Charter’s camp, deep in the Yucatan jungle, and far from any prying eyes set to watch their movements. Within minutes of the abduction, they’d had access to satellite surveillance. Government satellites, although Wiley didn’t ask for details. The general had his friends. Charter had their own. They’d tracked the movement of a vehicle along the coastal highway until it made a turn, heading into the jungle. Once forest canopy cut off their view, they’d used infrared to track heat signatures, keeping tabs, hoping they’d found the right target, because otherwise Poppy could be anywhere in Cancun. They’d let the Federales and the
The thought of her in a terrorist’s hands, tortured, burned, beheaded—in retaliation for her father’s victories against them—made him sick to his stomach. His body tensed, and he grabbed the dashboard. Fuck, if he’d let that happen.
Hold on, Poppy. I’m coming for you.
Chapter Six
‡
P oppy sunk inside herself. No use panicking. She couldn’t help her situation. Whatever her kidnappers’ intentions, they couldn’t be good. When she’d been plucked from the water, her mind had worked at warp speed, imagining every scenario possible until she’d drawn a deep breath and deliberately began to withdraw.
Her abductors hadn’t traveled far, barely a mile down the shoreline until they beached the jet skis, hopped off, and then led her over sand and jagged rocks to a banged-up pickup parked on the side of the road that edged the ocean. Before they’d pushed her inside, they’d tied her hands together with rope and dropped a rough canvas bag over her head and shoulders.
Now, she lay on the small space behind the bucket seats, fighting nausea and panting due to fear and claustrophobia. The fact she was nearly nude and barefoot rankled, making her feel more vulnerable than she had to be. But she didn’t dwell on those facts or let herself think about their destination. Instead, she kept the image of Wiley, with his face reddening from fury, his eyes narrowing. Wiley wouldn’t let this go. Would move heaven and earth to save her. She knew it.
And not just because she was “the job.” He was personally invested and had let down his guard for just a moment. He’d rail against himself, but after he got the rage under control, he’d call upon his skills. He’d find the men who had taken her. She had to believe he’d do it before it was too late.
Unwilling to think about what was in store, she drew back from the precipice. She’d hope this was a kidnapping for ransom. Something that could drag on for weeks or months. Not something more nefarious. Her father would want this situation kept quiet. Off the books. Because if terrorists didn’t know she’d been taken and couldn’t pay her ransom, the men her father had hired stood a better chance of retrieving her.
Eventually, the heat inside the truck cab, and the lack of fresh air from the bag still covering her head, lulled her, despite the bumpiness of the ride. She relaxed, and finally, she gave herself over to oblivion. She’d need to be rested, alert, and ready.
Again, she thought of Wiley. Of the night they’d spent together. She was fiercely glad she’d allowed him into her bed. Sweet and intense, he’d seen to her pleasure. It was just a damn shame they might not have the chance to discover whether they had more in store in their future. She thought he might be the kind of man she could trust with her heart. One who’d weather any storm. A rock she could lean against. Thinking of his warm embrace, she slipped into darkness.
Wiley jumped from the open door of the helo onto the hard-packed dirt airfield. All the operators, who’d come out of the woodwork when Poppy had been attacked, headed straight to Charter’s camp, deep in the Yucatan jungle, and far from any prying eyes set to watch their movements. Within minutes of the abduction, they’d had access to satellite surveillance. Government satellites, although Wiley didn’t ask for details. The general had his friends. Charter had their own. They’d tracked the movement of a vehicle along the coastal highway until it made a turn, heading into the jungle. Once forest canopy cut off their view, they’d used infrared to track heat signatures, keeping tabs, hoping they’d found the right target, because otherwise Poppy could be anywhere in Cancun. They’d let the Federales and the
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