But Epstein kept moving. Lex squeezed off another round, aiming for the sand at his feet.
Panting, Epstein stopped. He raised both hands, turned slowly round. “Don’t. Shoot.”
Lex didn’t waste time even acknowledging the bastard. His weapon trained on Epstein, he moved quickly toward the bag and length of rope they’d been going to use to raise Ciccone up from the shaft. He snagged the rope, approached Epstein, grabbed the old man, and shoved him brusquely onto his stomach in the sand.
“Wait…think this through, Duncan. I’ve got enough cash to—”
“You bastard,” Lex snapped as he wrenched the grizzled old lion king’s hands behind his back with the rope and hauled him to his feet. “When are you going to learn you can’t buy everything, Epstein?” He shoved the stumbling, heavily-breathing man towards the SUV as he spoke.
“I can give you what you want—”
“I already got what I want. I’m going to see your entire empire go down into the dirt. Where are the keys?”
“I swear, you’re going to regret this, Duncan. I have connections in places that—”
“Get in!” Lex barked as he yanked open the back hatch. “On your stomach.”
“Duncan—”
He pressed the muzzle of his gun into the old mobster’s back. “Do it! Now!”
Once the old man was humiliatingly bundled into his own trunk, Lex hogtied him, looping the rope so that Epstein’s feet were bound to his hands. This desert king wasn’t going anywhere but down.
Lex climbed into the driver’s seat, dialing dispatch as he started the ignition. “Connect me with someone who can give me a fix on the GPS in Agent Perez’s vehicle!” he barked. “And I need backup as soon as we get a reading on where she is.” He hit the gas as he spoke, giving dispatch a rundown of the situation. And with Epstein swearing in the back, he raced back toward the city of Las Vegas, toward the gold halo of light in the desert, dust boiling in a dark cone behind him. Lex had no idea which direction to go, but this was a start until he had a fix on Perez’s location. There was no way he could just sit and do nothing while he waited.
He called both Jenna’s and Perez’s phones as he drove. Both kept flipping to voice mail. Tension torqued like a vise in him.
His phone buzzed. Lex snapped it to his ear. “Yes!”
“We have a location. Perez’s vehicle is stationary at a place called Bucktooth Ranch, an old property that was sold and slated for demolition two years ago, but redevelopment permits have been on hold because of legal issues—”
“I know it!” Lex hit the brakes, wheeling sharply as he pulled a 180 degree turn off-road. The car fishtailed into sand, dust billowing in a cloud around him as he bounced wildly over rugged terrain, dry scrub scraping the undercarriage of the SUV as he aimed for an intersecting road about a mile ahead. “I’m not far out. I can be there in a few minutes,” he yelled into his phone. “Get that tactical team out there stat!”
The SUV tires bit suddenly into harder packed dirt as his vehicle hit the intersecting road. He punched down on the gas, increasing speed. “I’m about eight miles out now. Can you give me the ranch specs? How many buildings?”
“A bunch of old cabins…seven to the left of a main building, which is derelict.”
“Approach road?”
“One road in, dirt. There’s also an old horse trail that hooks around to the west.”
“Wide enough for an SUV?”
“Affirmative.”
“I’m going in that way.”
Lex cut his lights and engine.
In the distance a yellow glow spilled from a window in one of the old log cabins. The dark shape of Perez’s SUV was tucked in alongside the west wall of the cabin, facing outward, as if ready for a quick getaway.
Leaving Epstein hog-tied in the vehicle, Lex ran in a crouch through a stand of dry scrub. He came up under the window, peered carefully up through broken, dusty glass. A flickering lantern stood on an old wood table, cell phone lying next to it. He shifted his gaze to the left, and his heart stalled.
Jenna! Arms above her head, hands tied from the rafters. Her face sheet-white, streaked with dirt, tears, mascara, hair a wild tangle. A man in a black balaclava held a knife to the exposed column of her neck. He was trailing the hooked tip down to the hollow at the base of her throat.
Although the man’s face was masked, he was familiar in height and build to Thomas Smythe, the man who’d threatened the life of exotic dancer Vera Mancuso.
He peered up a little higher, caught sight of Perez’s body lying in a small heap in the darkened corner of the cabin. Lex struggled to draw in a breath, to hold his position. It was not known if Smythe was the same guy who’d murdered Candace, but Lex had seen enough during the standoff over Mancuso’s life to know that if this was Smythe, he was no rational man. Smythe had wanted that ring. And he’d probably do anything first and foremost for The Quetzal. Lex ducked down, checked his watch, mentally calculating how long it would take for backup to reach this remote ranch.