A SEAL Never Quits

by Holly Castillo

  “We’ll meet our contact at the drop zone, and he’ll take us to a safe house where we’ll get our disguises, as well as our vehicle to make the drive to Nuevo Laredo. It will be over a four-hour drive to Nuevo Laredo. There’s another safe house for us there, and then we begin hitting the streets and determine the best way to crack into the Scorpions. We’re on our own out there, so we need to watch each other’s backs.”

  “That’s about as generic an overview as I’ve ever heard,” Phantom said, his voice dry.

  “He asked for a high-level review, and that’s what I gave him. If you want more details, ask.” Stryker was clenching and unclenching his fists in his lap, trying to control his temper.

  “Maybe if you had your head in the game, we wouldn’t be asking for clarification from you for anything.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Stryker growled.

  “You shouldn’t have seen her last night,” Buzz spoke up from the back seat.

  Stryker felt like he’d been punched in the gut. “What the fuck gives you the right to say such shit? What I do is my business.”

  “Not when it causes you to have your head up your ass hours before we go into a kill zone.”

  “Watch what you say, sailor. You’re overstepping.”

  “Sir, I mean no disrespect,” Buzz said while Phantom gripped the steering wheel so tight that it looked like he was going to crack it in half. “The thing is, we all know she’s getting to you. We all know you care for her, though you may not admit it. We just need to know you’re ready for this mission and we aren’t being led into jeopardy.”

  “My awareness has not been compromised, and you have no need to question my ability for this mission. She isn’t a problem. What will be a problem is if you talk about her again.”

  It was silent the rest of the way to Corpus.

  Chapter 17

  They arrived in Matamoros, Tamaulipas, close to two o’clock in the morning via a private helicopter contracted by the navy. They met up with their contact outside the airport, and he drove them to a small apartment complex. The apartment looked like a junkie’s home, with mismatched, ragged furniture, holes in the carpet, and filthy walls. There was even the smell of marijuana smoke clinging to the air.

  Vidal, their contact, made no apologies for the shabby location, nor did they expect anything different. They’d been in places far worse as they dropped into their undercover locations. In the dirty bathroom, a couple of roaches skittered into the shadows as Stryker flipped on the light, and he carefully began grooming himself to slip into his role.

  He had been growing his beard out for the past week, and it was already thick enough to cover his face. He fought the memories of Anya stroking his beard and forced his mind to stay in character. He used a thick gel to slick back his hair, which he had been growing longer for weeks, and with the hair gel, he was beginning to take on an entirely different appearance. He applied the small rubber prosthesis that was his new nose and used the makeup that had been given to him to blend it in with the rest of his skin, to make it appear to be his own. With the final touch of light hazel contacts, he barely recognized the man who stared back at him. Which was exactly what he needed.

  He left the bathroom so Buzz could go in and apply his cover, and he pulled off his shirt, ready for Vidal to lay down some creative artificial ink around his body, including some gang symbols, which were critical for them to be considered legit.

  By the time Vidal had finished applying all the tattoos, Stryker’s arms were covered, as was part of his chest, and his back was covered in a large tattoo that even crept up to his shoulder. Within an hour, all three of them were in their new clothes, tattoos, and various facial hair and slicked-back hair.

  The initial goal was to take down this new cartel. But it wasn’t as simple as finding the leader, removing him from the operation, and dropping him in a dark hole where he would never be found. They had to get in with the lugartenientes—lieutenants—and bring them down too. It was impossible for them to get to everyone. The sicarios and halcones would find ways to win loyalty into other drug cartels. And the production operations would never end.

  But Buzz would be working on their computers, and would cripple the Scorpions financially. Then he would delve into their communications. The encrypted messages to phones, Facebook accounts, Twitter, and the few pieces of correspondence over email that Buzz had been able to collect were unlike the encryption they’d experienced in the past. And they needed to break the code. Fast.

  Vidal provided them with a dark red Ford Explorer, and Stryker was shocked that the rims were still intact. They were spinners, and in this kind of neighborhood, those rarely stayed attached to a vehicle for long. The interior was leather and decked out with all the bells and whistles that would be expected of a high roller in the drug-dealing world. The car would be left alone if people knew it belonged to somebody high up in the ranks of a cartel.

  Vidal gave them directions to their new home, a four-hour drive away, and let them know the house had many critical hiding spots where they would find a bevy of weapons. Before they left, he handed each one of them a loaded HK45 compact handgun, which they all tucked into side holsters. It was go time.

  They were silent as they entered the car, each one thinking about the intel and his own backstory. One false move could kill them all. When they were pulling out of Matamoros, the streamers of dawn were feathering across the sky.

  “I don’t know about you—” Phantom, whose words were always so carefully chosen, was cut off by Buzz’s sharply raised hand. Buzz reached over and turned on the radio, taking it to a level loud enough that having a conversation would be difficult, but not impossible.

  Phantom moved to sit close between the two of them, so their conversation could be held without him shouting to be heard. “You think we’re bugged?” he asked, his face a dark mask.

  “Hand over your guns,” Buzz said, his voice rough and gravely, the way he’d been practicing it for days.

  Silently, they did as he asked, and his fingers made quick work disassembling the weapons. With a deep frown on his face, he held up three small microphones, each one having come out of their guns. He tossed them out the window before turning back to them. “The obvious answer is, yes, we were bugged. I ran my scanner over all our equipment as we loaded up, and the guns spiked high readings. So far nothing else is coming up on the scanner, but we need to be aware that someone is trying to listen to us. The question is, who? Do we trust that little snake Vidal? Is he loyal to us or is he loyal to someone else? He’s been undercover for years. That fucks with your mind after a while.”

  “He started off as an informant. So his original allegiance is with the cartels. He’s not one of us. He has no reason to be loyal to us.”

  “Other than the fact that he knows we’ll come and cut his balls off before we kill him if he really is betraying us,” Phantom growled.

  “Regardless, we know Vidal is not the mastermind behind having us bugged. It’s someone higher up the food chain, either on our side or theirs. Either way, I don’t like it one fucking bit.” Stryker was glaring at the road ahead of him.

  Phantom’s jaw clenched and unclenched. “This means the house is bugged too. It’s going to be nearly impossible for us to debrief.”

  “Not if we take it off local and do it our own way. We’ll go through different channels to reach Brusco at home base. We can’t trust the cell phones they gave us, or any other item. From here on, we are code silence unless I say otherwise. Now, Buzz, put the guns back together. We’ve got a job to do.”

  * * *

  Anya buried herself in her work. If she didn’t have patients lined up for the day, she was out at the ranches, checking the newborn calves, giving vaccinations, and helping any of the ranchers or ranch hands who needed to know how to care for an injured or sick heifer.

  Mastitis
, an infection in the teat of a heifer, was the most common problem they had to deal with, and that just took some antibiotics and hand milking for a few days until the infection cleared. A few of the heifers needed more urgent and diligent care, but most of them were easy enough to care for.

  It had been a week since he had left. A week since the most incredible night of her life. She had made her way home that morning, that beautiful morning, enjoying the lingering feelings of tenderness and warmth that flooded her when she thought of her time with Stryker. It had been just as magical as the first time…more so. His whispered words of encouragement, of praise, of passion, had made her fall apart in his arms. And she couldn’t wait to experience it again.

  That is, if he wanted to experience it again. She couldn’t believe she had slipped up and admitted that she loved him. She wasn’t going to say it out loud. It had been a huge mistake, and from the look on his face, she could tell it had shocked him. But she couldn’t tell if it had turned him against her. That was the part she agonized over.

  She had fallen victim to his smooth voice, his gentle touch, and her own attraction to the tall, dark cowboy. The anticipation of seeing him again, of feeling his calloused hands touching her cheeks so tenderly as he dropped his head to place a kiss on her lips… Just thinking about the man had her worked up.

  He had warned her it would be difficult for him to call. She wondered what he had to do that took him away from the ranch and why he hadn’t told her anything about it. She shook her head at herself. They were hardly at the point in their relationship where he would share everything about his life with her, right? She gnawed on her inner cheek. She wanted to be at that point in their relationship. But it was probably too soon for him. She couldn’t wait to hear his voice.

  She headed out her back door and stopped when she saw a FedEx envelope lying at her feet. She frowned. Normally the deliveries were made at the front desk. For a moment, apprehension gripped her.

  But this was just an envelope. She shook her head. They had caught the bomber in Austin. She picked up the envelope and turned it around in her hands. It indicated that it had originated in Hebbronville. She frowned. They didn’t have a FedEx office in Hebbronville. She hesitated again, debating whether she should open it or not.

  Finally, after drawing a deep breath, she ripped open the cardboard tab and looked inside. Confusion clouded her mind. Inside were pictures. Who would send her pictures?

  They were all full-sheet pictures and she pulled them out to get a better look. The apprehension came back as she saw picture after picture of Stryker and the men from the ranch. Then she saw the picture of Stryker with her, placing a kiss on her neck as she slept in his arms. She gasped. It hadn’t been a dream! But who had taken these photos? And why were they being sent to her?

  She flipped to the next photo, and she gave a strangled cry, dropping the photos to the ground. It was a gruesome picture of a mutilated body. It was unlike anything she’d ever seen before, and she never wanted to see it again.

  With trembling hands, she made herself pick up the pictures. She flipped through the rest of them, forcing herself to see the terrible, unspeakable things. As a veterinarian, she had become used to blood and to the bones, tendons, muscles, and tissues of an animal’s body. But nothing could have prepared her for the sight of those gruesome photos.

  She stuffed the photos back in the envelope and rushed to her truck. She needed to see Stryker. Surely he would know something about the photos—at the very least, he should know something about all the photos of him and her together, as well as the ones where he was with his fellow ranchers. That much she was almost positive about. Her palms were sweating as she drove out to the ranch, and she focused on breathing deeply to calm her racing heart.

  What could possibly be the explanation for what she’d just seen? Obviously Stryker was involved, because he had been in every one of the first set of photos she’d looked at. Stryker hadn’t come home yet, though, or, if he had, he hadn’t called her as promised. As she drove up to the large ranch house, she noticed that one of the trucks wasn’t there. He may not be home, but surely someone could give her answers. They were a tight-knit group and needed to know what had been sent to her.

  She wished Stryker could be there with her. She hoped he was thinking about her and craving her just as much as she was him.

  She couldn’t stop her hands from shaking as she stepped down from her truck and grabbed the hideous envelope. She took another deep breath as she turned and headed up the path toward the ranch house and wiped her hands on her jeans to dry her palms.

  She stood on the shaded porch for a minute after she rang the doorbell, and waited to hear the familiar sound of boots on their hardwood floors, but there was just the sound of a hot spring day settling into the trees and foliage around her. She waited a few moments longer before ringing the doorbell again and knocking on the large door. Her knuckles hurt afterwards, and she was certain there was no way her knocking had even sounded within the house.

  She chewed on her inner cheek, agitated. She didn’t want to leave without seeing one of the men. She needed answers. She needed to know what the pictures were and why they had been sent to her.

  Suddenly she heard footsteps approach the door. Brusco opened the door swiftly and appraised her from head to toe in one quick flick of his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  How did he know something was wrong? She had schooled her face so he wouldn’t know she was disturbed by anything, so she could judge his reaction—not so he could judge hers. “Has Stryker returned yet? It’s urgent that I see him,” she demanded.

  “He’s going to be out for a few days.”

  Anya’s trembles settled in stronger. “May I come in?” Was that the wisest move to make? What if someone was trying to warn her about them?

  She covered her mouth with one shaking hand, trying to hold back the bile that had risen in the back of her throat. I’ve done some terrible things in my life. Stryker’s words came back and seemed to slap her. Had he done this? Was this the type of man he was?

  Brusco hesitated only a few moments. And then he waved her inside and closed the large, heavy door behind her. “What are you doing here, Anya?” His voice lacked warmth. There was something menacing, something deadly, to the sound of it.

  Oh, what if they are a cult of killers? Anya swallowed hard several times, trying to regain the ability to speak. “I—I—this is a mistake. This is a terrible mistake. I’ll go…”

  Anya tried to sidestep him to get to the door, but Brusco grabbed her around the waist as she tried to flee past him, and he set her back in front of him as if she were as light as a feather. “Why are you here, Anya?”

  “Anya, what is it that has you so shaken?” Snap’s voice made her jump, and she turned to see him standing behind her, a deep frown on his face, his hands on his hips. There was no hope for her to escape them. She never should have come in the house.

  Finally, barely able to hold the envelope any longer because of her tremors, she held it out to the men. “This was delivered to my office today. Well, not to my office. It was just at my back door. Th-those pictures… How… I mean, why…?”

  Brusco took the envelope and pulled out the photos. His frown deepened as he flipped through them. He handed them to Snap, but kept his eyes on her.

  “I should just go. I don’t want to know what it’s all about. Keep the pictures. I don’t want them.”

  “Anya, it’s not that simple.”

  She was going to throw up. She was almost certain of it. They were going to kill her and dump her body out on this vast ranch, and no one would ever know. She backed away from Brusco, a cold sweat breaking out across her skin. This can’t be it. This isn’t the way I’m supposed to die, is it?

  Snap exchanged glances with Brusco and shook his head. “Let’s go into the dining room, Anya. We need to talk.”

  Chapt
er 18

  It had taken a week for them to get invited to a meet, actually faster than Stryker had expected. But they’d put the word out on the street that they were new in town and looking for a new “home.” A runner had quietly passed the information along to them that one of the lieutenants wanted to meet with them.

  It wasn’t as high as they needed to go, but it was a start. The lieutenant was a thin man with a goatee and tattoos that covered his neck and arms. He had questioned them civilly, simple chitchat for the first hour as they drank in one of the private booths at a club.

  The music had pulsed loudly, and frequently he had two or more women seated around him. They were obviously women of the gang, because he didn’t try to disguise his questions when they were around. Stryker had bided his time, waiting for the banter back and forth to slowly stall out. And then he’d asked the burning question. “So, are we going to talk business or is this just a meeting for pleasure?”

  The lieutenant’s smile slowly faded, and he slapped the women on the ass, telling them to leave. “In my opinion, my business is about pleasure,” he said confidently, leaning forward and bracing his arms on his knees, clasping his bejeweled hands in front of him, staring directly at Stryker.

  Stryker gave him a lopsided grin. “I can agree with that. But there’s always the business end of our work. That never goes away, no matter how much pleasure we sell.”

  The lieutenant lifted his chin and smiled. “True. The work never goes away. I’ve heard rumors about you boys. Word on the street is you took down a capo in Matamoros. You’ve got to have balls to pull off something like that.”

  “The boss wasn’t supporting us the way we needed,” Buzz said, taking a swig of his beer. “Once your boss loses sight of the prize, he has to go. We backed his second…a younger man who knew what it was going to take to get us higher up the food chain. He was a great capo to work for.”

  The lieutenant raised an eyebrow but made no comment. “Look,” Phantom spoke up, “we’ve been through all this before. We were lieutenants in Matamoros. We played with the big dogs. And we were damn good at it. We’re looking for a home that will appreciate all we’ve given to get where we are, and be ready to take us in as brothers.”