Christmas Captive. Liz Johnson

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Christmas Captive - Liz  Johnson Men of Valor

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anxiety there present and accounted for. “One asked the other where ‘the girl’ was. They called her the ambassador’s daughter.” Amy nodded toward Torres. “When they didn’t find her, they radioed someone they called ‘the boss.’ Then they split up and one headed right for us, so we made a run for it.”

      Leaning forward, Jordan tried to put the scene together in his mind’s eye. “Did they say anything else? Or indicate who was in charge?”

      Amy chewed on her lower lip, turning it pink and plump. But it was Elaina who added, “The man said they had to have me before they arrive.”

      Jordan sucked in a sharp breath but held it because he couldn’t risk cutting her off if there was more to the story.

      Torres didn’t hesitate. “They? Who’s they?”

      “He never said.” Amy wrapped her arms around her stomach, as though she could ward off the chill from this conversation.

      But Jordan was lost somewhere in the simple words Elaina had repeated. Everyone else had focused on the who. But he was stumped on the how. His forehead puckering as he tried to work it out, he wondered if maybe the girl had simply gotten the words wrong. “Arrive? They said arrive?”

      Amy’s deep brown doe eyes grew even larger, and he could tell the emphasis hadn’t been lost on her. “Yes. That’s exactly what he said.”

      “How exactly does someone arrive on a cruise ship in the middle of the ocean?”

       THREE

      No matter how many ways Jordan flipped the questions over in his mind, there was no answer for them and no rhyme or reason to what the men had said—or what they’d tried to do.

      Someone had attempted to kidnap the daughter of the ambassador to Lybania. On a cruise ship. In the middle of the Caribbean. But why try to abduct the girl on a ship where there were a finite number of places to hide her once they captured her? Why choose a ship with equally limited ways for them to escape from the people who would be searching for Elaina until they pulled into port? They weren’t even scheduled to arrive in St. Thomas for two more days.

      Even more puzzling was the imminent arrival of the illusive they. He had no idea who that could be. And even less where or when their arrival might take place. The arrival that had been mentioned would have to come by helicopter or boat. But either would draw significant attention. Is that what they wanted?

      His only clue was soon. Because the men Amy had overheard had been in a rush to get their hands on Elaina.

      But that left a whole lot of holes in his intel.

      What he needed was information from the man in the black suit, who had finally begun to wake up and was holding his arm like he’d received a lethal blow. Bah. It had barely been a tap. Just enough to bring him down. If he didn’t like it, well, then he shouldn’t shoot at women and children.

      Which brought Jordan right back to another question. How’d he get a gun on board the ship? Had he snuck it through security? Had it been stashed in his suite waiting for him? And why would he shoot at Elaina if his goal was to kidnap her?

      The questions pounded like a woodpecker against steel. He was getting exactly nowhere.

      No matter how long he paced, the walls of the security office were as confining as the unanswered questions in his mind.

      Amy, too, had stood when the captain excused himself for an urgent call. But Elaina slumped in her father’s lap. “Can we go back to our room now?” she mumbled against his chest.

      “No!”

      Torres jumped as Jordan, Amy and the bodyguard all yelled the same word at the same time. But the ambassador’s eyes were knowing, even as Amy slipped into the seat she’d just vacated to rub Elaina’s back. “We’ll get you a new room.” A safe one.

      The last line was unspoken but louder than her other words.

      Suddenly the door swung open and the captain and another man in a starched white jacket—the second in command—entered.

      “My apologies,” the captain said. “This is Julio Xavier, my staff captain.”

      Jordan shook Xavier’s hand but skipped the pleasantries. “The ambassador, his daughter and their bodyguard need to be moved to a new suite right away.”

      Captain Robertson nodded and motioned to Torres, who stood, still holding Elaina. “I’ll take care of it personally. Follow me.” Just before he slipped out of the office with Torres and Elaina, and their bodyguard following closely, he turned back to Jordan. “Xavier oversees security and is in charge of our prisoner.”

      Jordan nodded but addressed Amy instead of the staff captain. “It’s been a long night. You should get some rest.”

      Her lips pinched at his words, and she pressed flat hands together in front of her so hard that her arms shook. He could almost see the steam coming from her ears.

      She was clearly exhausted, and he’d assumed that she’d be grateful for the chance to get some downtime, knowing he’d handle things here. Apparently not.

      He scratched at the back of his neck and frowned at Amy, who gave him one shake of her head before turning toward Xavier and pointing toward the glass window into the single cell.

      “With your permission, sir, I’d like to interview this man.”

      Jordan stepped forward to interrupt. After all, he wanted to do the interrogating.

      But Xavier was focused on Amy, shaking his head at her. “It’s my jurisdiction. I’ll take care of it.”

      “Sir, I’m a DEA agent and that little girl’s aunt. And that man shot at me today. I’d like to know why.”

      The staff captain ran his hand along his jaw, pinching his features as though in deep thought before letting his gaze land on Jordan. “Suppose you’re DEA, too.”

      “No, sir.”

      Xavier visibly relaxed.

      “SEAL teams.”

      The older man’s pinched expression immediately returned. “SEALs, huh? So you’ve worked with terrorists before.”

      Jordan wasn’t quite sure where this line of questioning was going, but he’d answer nearly any question to get a chance at asking a few of his own. “No, sir. I don’t work with terrorists.”

      “Ha.” Xavier’s chuckle was as dry as dust.

      “What do you say you let us stick around?” Jordan said. “We’ll stay out of your way.”

      Amy cleared her throat as if she wasn’t willing to make that concession, but Jordan kept going.

      “Maybe ask a follow-up question or two.”

      Xavier rubbed at his chin for a long moment before glancing at Cortero, who had remained silent in the background. “I

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