His price. He was discussing his fee for disposing of her. Oh, God. I’m going to die.
A stifled whimper escaped Ophelia’s unresponsive lips. The car seemed to lurch at the tiny sound she made. Fear gave her the strength to peer through her lashes again. This time she could see the driver angling his rear view mirror to look back at her, ascertaining whether she was surfacing from her sleep. She quickly shut her eyes again, playing possum.
How will he kill me? Quickly and painlessly, she hoped. Or would he torture her first to elicit the names of her sources? Of course, Rawlings already knew who the other SEALs were in Operation Lights Out, but he might wish to know if others knew. What could she say? She’d gotten her information by eavesdropping at her sister’s Halloween party, where Joe and his senior chief had been reminiscing about past operations, not knowing that Ophelia lurked just around the corner, her ears pricked in hopes of hearing a juicy story.
As long as he doesn’t name us in his book, John can say whatever he wants to, Joe had been pointing out. What’s he got to lose now that he’s retired?
True. And someone had better drag Rawlings off his mountain before he climbs any higher. The senior chief’s voice grew rough with disgust. I never dreamed he’d go into politics. Christ, I’ll never forget the way he just turned and shot that kid and his mom like it was nothing.
I hear he’s on the short list for Vice President, Joe grimly volunteered.
Oh, Christ, no, Senior Chief protested. Tell John to go ahead and write his book. Hell, I’ll hand-sell it for him. We thought Rawlings was dangerous when he was working for the CIA? Wait until he’s next in line to be our fucking Commander-in-Chief.
Sudden insight cast a spotlight in Ophelia’s head on a previously unrealized fact. This John that the SEALs had been talking about—could he be John Staskiewicz, the Navy SEAL who’d lived near Vinny, the one who’d been murdered? Was the world that small?
Oh, Lord, it was, wasn’t it? In that case, they had all been on the op-gone-bad—Rawlings, Staskiewicz, Joe, Senior Chief, and one other SEAL. And when their target, Gabir al Baldawi hadn’t been present in the building as expected, Rawlings had blown his top, shooting and killing some poor kid, along with his mother.
The SEALs had reluctantly agreed to cover up the truth. John Staskiewicz, the first to break his code of silence, had ended up dead.
Which meant that Rawlings would stop at nothing to keep the truth out of the public eye.
I am so dead, Ophelia thought.
Terror gave rise to a wave of nausea. Battling the urge to hang her head off the edge of the seat and vomit, she held as still as possible. If she so much as moved, her abductor might pull over and hit her with another crippling injection. God only knew what was in that stuff and what it was doing to the fragile little life in her womb.
My baby! Oh, God, she couldn’t let her baby die with her.
As the car veered off the highway, banking onto a tight turning exit ramp, she adjusted her position surreptitiously. Their speed slowed, giving her hope that they would pull up to a gas station. But then she remembered—Vinny had topped off her tank right before arriving at Mama Rose’s, three days earlier. Her gas-sipping engine wouldn’t need fuel for several hundred more miles.
The car turned right, then left, before gaining speed and merging back into traffic. Had they switched directions, heading back the way they’d come? It seemed so, but that was unlikely. After all, her captor had a job to do, and he would see it through to its gory finish. The most that she could hope for was the chance to escape when he finally stopped.
Chapter Five
‡
At the sound of Vinny’s cell phone ringing, the kitchen fell quiet. The eyes of the three Navy SEALs who’d just entered Vinny’s mother’s kitchen focused on Vinny as he glanced at his phone and took the call. “Hello?”
“Mr. DeInnocentis?”
“Yes.”
“This is Sergeant Presti with the Philadelphia Police Force.”
“Yes, sir.” Vinny held his breath, praying for good news.
“Uh, unfortunately, there’ve been no reported sightings of your wife’s vehicle. We can’t treat this as a missing persons case until forty-eight hours have passed.”
They didn’t have forty-eight hours, but Vinny couldn’t assert that without bringing up Rawlings’ name. Thanking the officer for the call, he shooed his mother and sisters out of the kitchen and gestured for his teammates to sit. “You want any leftovers?” he offered belatedly, and they all shook their heads. He sent his commander an imploring look as they sat. “There’s gotta be something we can do.”