Protector Of Convenience (Rogue Protectors Book 2)

by Victoria Paige

  “Call him,” she said. “See where he is to be sure.”

  “My phone is dead. It got smashed.”

  A tendril of distrust slithered up her spine. She liked Hector. He was easy-going and carefree, but she replayed his expression when he saw his grandmother. It wasn’t shock or horror.

  It was guilt.

  “I’m going with Delia.” Just as she turned away, she heard an ominous click.

  “I can’t let you do that.”

  She faced Hector again and he had a gun trained on her.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered.

  “I’m sorry, Ariana,” he said, eyes like ice. “But we have no time.”

  He stepped aside and waved the gun. “No funny moves. I know Migs has been teaching you ninja shit.”

  Blood left her face and, fighting the lightheadedness that swamped her, she gritted, “How could you do this? To your own abuela!”

  “That wasn’t supposed to go down that way!” he screamed. “Someone is going to pay, but first I need to settle a debt. So move! Or I swear to God, I’ll kill you.” And then he muttered, “It would solve all our problems.”

  Veins popped in his temple, and his color turned ruddy. Hector was close to losing it, and Ariana didn’t want to die today.

  “All right.”

  He pushed the gun in the small of her back, forcing her further down the corridor where the lighting grew progressively darker. When they arrived at the door to the covered parking, Hector ordered her to open it.

  The door from the ballroom where they’d come from slammed open.

  “Hector!” It was Leon and with him were Hector’s men. “Where are you going?”

  Terror gripped Ariana’s heart. “Leon! Watch …” Her warning turned into a scream as she watched Hector’s men pump two bullets into Leon.

  Overcome with rage, she went after Hector’s gun. He cursed and shoved her. She fell against the railing right outside the open door to the garage.

  “I said not a mark on her.” An unfamiliar voice spoke from that direction.

  Ariana straightened and stared into the face of a stranger. Cowboy hat, dark skin, thick mustache. He wore a gingham shirt, distressed jeans, and a big-buckled belt like a Texas rancher.

  “Pendejo!” Hector raged. “Your men fucked up the explosives. My grandmother is hurt!” Men with automatic weapons came forward and pointed their guns at Hector and his men.

  The man shrugged. “Collateral damage. You were unable to pay me for the cocaine. You didn’t think the price would be cheap? Now leave us. You’re not a part of this.”

  Hector’s face was ravaged by fury and distress, but Ariana felt no sympathy for his torment over Abbi Mena’s injuries. Pain pierced her chest as she wondered if abuelita was okay. If she was alive. She hung on to hope that the old woman was.

  “I won’t repeat myself, Hector. I haven’t gotten over the loss of my shipment and I have no problem killing an Alcantara.”

  Giving Ariana one last look, Hector retreated into the hallway.

  “We finally meet, Ariana Ortega.” The man opened the door of a dark Escalade. Two black Ford Explorers flanked it bumper to bumper. “Who …?”

  “Benito Carillo. You have something of mine.”

  “I don’t have anything. Raul didn’t—”

  “Jefe.” One of his henchmen came up to him and murmured in his ear and his features morphed into granite.

  “I’m afraid we cannot stay,” Benito ordered. “Get in the car.”

  Ariana gulped. Should she scream?

  As if reading her thoughts, Benito sighed heavily and jerked his chin. A man came up behind her, but she evaded him, only to be blocked by another and this one had a needle. She faked right, but someone grabbed her from behind. She screamed and cracked her head backward, her heel stomping on a foot.

  Benito’s man howled, and she was about to escape into the hallway when vicious fingers clawed her hair and yanked her back. Her right arm was caught in a vise and twisted high. She couldn’t move without causing unbearable pain in her shoulder.

  She whimpered in agony.

  “Luchadora.” A new voice joined the mix, this one full of malice and it stopped her cold.

  Benito appeared in front of her. “I didn’t want to hurt you, but we’re out of time.”

  A needle stabbed her neck and paralysis took over her system, her tongue turned thick and numb.

  She was falling and then she was floating.

  Her vision dimmed like she’d fallen into a tunnel, the light fading into a pin prick until finally there was nothing.

  21

  “Is your grandmother all right?” Garrison asked.

  Migs scraped his face with his palm, then spoke into the phone, “I don’t know. They’re not sending anyone in until the K-9s give the all clear.” He couldn’t get hold of Leon, Hector, or Ariana—she left her fucking phone on the table. His father and Cesar were looking for them around the country club. The cops had sealed off all entrances and exits into the ballroom.

  Migs, Joaquín, and Abbi Mena were the only ones left in the chaos of overturned chairs, broken glass, and dining debris. Each second that passed not knowing where the fuck his wife was stoked the fear that was growing in his gut. What he felt was not fear, it was terror.

  Terror that Benito had her.

  Terror for what he would do to her.

  But his greatest fear was never seeing her again. He touched the ring in his pocket. He was a coward for not finding the words. His chest tightened and he had to force air from his lungs to fucking breathe.

  “All clear!” The K-9 handler yelled.

  “Fucking finally. Are you guys close?” Migs growled.

  “We’re a block from the country club.”

  “Okay, call when you get here.” He ended the call as the EMTs rushed in with a gurney. Firemen followed and then the police.

  Leon was in charge of overall security. He was supposed to meet the first responders. Instead, his second-in-command was the one coordinating with San Diego SWAT and PD.

  Abbi Mena was regaining consciousness and her wails of pain stabbed Migs in the heart. He couldn’t bear it. Even Joaquín turned away, his face mottled red from withholding tears. Whoever did this would pay.

  He spotted Pops and an officer Migs recognized from the SDPD. Lieutenant Murphy was a friend of his father’s.

  Their grim expressions probably echoed his, but Pops looked ashen.

  Migs sprinted to them. “Have you found them? Where the fuck is Leon? Where the fuck is my wife?”

  At Drew’s almost tearful expression, Migs was on a razor’s edge from losing it.

  “Tell me,” he roared.

  “Leon is dead,” Pops said, tears tracked down his cheeks. “He was found by the SWAT in that corridor.” He pointed to the far left.

  “And Ariana? Hector?” he asked hoarsely.

  “Hector is gone too. We couldn’t find him or his men.”

  “Okay …” Migs took a couple of gulps of air as his mind reprocessed the information he had. “Okay. Maybe Leon sent them away.”

  “If there’s something you know, son, now is the time to talk,” Murphy said. “Do you have an idea who did this?”

  “I told you,” Drew said. “It was payback for the drugs.” He glared at Joaquín. “You should have consulted us before you called the DEA—”

  “Pops!” Migs cut in sharply. “There’s something bigger at play here …”

  “Lieutenant?” A cop came up to Murphy and handed him an object. “We found this in the service garage.”

  His lungs seized when he recognized the bracelet. “Fuck … oh fuck.” With shaking fingers, he picked it up. “It’s Ariana’s.” He cleared his throat, voice raw. “You found it where?”

  “The service garage in front of the exit door.”

  Migs was familiar with the layout around this quadrant. “That’s the same corridor where Leon was found, right?”

  “Yes.”
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  His phone buzzed and he excused himself, walking to a spot where he watched the EMTs load his grandmother on the gurney. “Ariana is gone.”

  “Shit,” John muttered. “We’re at the back of the country club. Front is a zoo. I’m having Nadia check the traffic cams.”

  “Have her check the ones that are coming from the service garage of the club.”

  “Gotcha.”

  “I’m going to check on my grandmother and call you back.”

  “Copy that.”

  He approached the gurney. Abbi Mena was in a neck brace and her right arm was held in a splint. A roar inside him wanted to break free, but he had to keep it together. He did his best to force his face to relax.

  “How is she?”

  “She has a concussion and broken arm. Vitals are stable, but she’s out of it,” the EMT warned him. “We gave her a dose of fentanyl to manage the pain.”

  Migs stared at his grandmother with all the love he felt for her and touched her face briefly. Her eyes fluttered and she mouthed his name, a ghost of a smile on her lips.

  “Te amo, abuelita.”

  When he turned away, his father was right behind him. “Keep me posted on her condition.” He passed his dad.

  “Where are you going?” Drew yelled.

  Migs didn’t look back, but headed behind the stage opposite to where emergency personnel were streaming in. It was the exit that led straight to the back of the club. That way he was avoiding his mother and his sisters. All his lies were coming to a head, and he was too furious to talk to them or explain. He didn’t have it in him to deal with that right now.

  All his faculties were honed on getting Ariana back.

  “Powell IDed three SUVs entering and exiting the service garage around the time of the explosion,” Garrison said.

  Migs, who was in the back of the Suburban, met John’s eyes briefly in the rear-view mirror. On the passenger side sat Levi who was on his laptop keeping in contact with the analyst. Bristow was sitting silent beside him.

  “There’s something else,” John’s eyes returned to traffic on West Boulevard where they’d just turned from the country club drive. “I don’t think your cousin’s been taken.”

  “He’s not answering his phone.”

  “Could mean many things.” John said. “But we tagged his vehicle in front of a traffic light not long after our suspected Benito convoy passed it. Footage is grainy, but the person sitting on the front passenger side could be one of your cousin’s men.”

  “You have a screenshot?” Migs asked.

  Levi held up the laptop.

  Migs let out a deflated breath. “Yeah, that man is his.” His brain was in full processing mode and it was leaning toward his younger cousin being involved in this whole clusterfuck. Otherwise, why would he run? What Migs couldn’t reconcile in his head was how Hector could let Abbi Mena get hurt. He loved her just like everyone did, but Migs wasn’t blind to his cousin’s vices. The Alcantaras had a lot of money but being in Vegas presented other problems with Hector. “Is there a way Nadia can look into my cousin’s finances.”

  “She’s already on it,” John said. “Should we put a BOLO on Hector’s vehicle?”

  Either the family was going to come together over this, or relations would go from strained to downright hostile. Migs weighed his options. But only Ariana and Abbi Mena mattered. Hurt feelings could come later and he was willing to take the consequences. “Do it.”

  “Nadia’s on the line,” Levi said. “Says it’s urgent.”

  “Put her on speaker.

  “Guys, take the next exit. There is no time to waste.” The analyst’s voice came on and forget urgent, there was panic in her tone. She was rarely fazed.

  “What’s going on Powell?” John barked.

  “I tracked the vehicles and I think I know where they are going … ”

  Migs gritted his teeth as static filled the cabin of the SUV.

  “An airfield.”

  Migs stopped breathing and hoped to hell he heard her wrong. “A what?”

  “It’s abandoned, but still functional,” Nadia said. “It’s not in any of our databases and I’m trying to access past satellite images, but the computer is—” there was a lot of unintelligible cursing and then, “fucking piece of shit.”

  “Powell, focus,” John growled. “Is it operational now?”

  “Moving satellite, it’ll take a few minutes.”

  “We don’t have a few fucking minutes,” Migs snapped. “Take the next exit. What’s the address?”

  Nadia rattled off the location.

  Because of the urgency of the situation, the traffic crawl appeared to have multiplied ten-fold. There was only one reason Benito was taking Ariana to an airfield.

  He was taking her to Mexico.

  “Once he gets her in the air, we’re screwed,” Migs snarled. “Can’t you drive fucking faster?” They had taken the exit but encountered another bottleneck of vehicles.

  “We get pulled over then we’re not just screwed, we’re fucked.”

  He hated Garrison’s calm voice and his sensible words because he was right. Migs was anything but calm. He’d left calm the moment he realized Ariana had been taken. Every time their SUV had to stop, he wanted to jump out of the vehicle and run the whole way. That might even help settle his nerves.

  This unprecedented situation only highlighted why he avoided relationships when he was in Special Forces and the DEA. Migs was so emotionally compromised, he was surprised Garrison allowed him to stay on. He probably figured Migs wouldn’t be willing to sit this out.

  He was right.

  John made an illegal swerve and rode the shoulder until they got to the intersection they needed.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Migs roared.

  “Shut up and let me drive,” Garrison shot back. “One more word out of you, I’ll have Bristow kick you out of the vehicle. Got me?”

  “Just saying,” he muttered.

  “Heard you loud and clear, Walker.” John flicked his eyes at the rear-view mirror then returned them on the road. “Powell, any update on sat images?

  “Looks like a twin-engine turboprop and the SUVs are parked beside it. Hangar is lit up. Men are transferring crates into the plane from a hangar.”

  “How many hostiles?”

  “Counting eight.”

  “Should we get the DEA on standby?” Levi asked.

  “We can take them,” Migs said confidently. “We can’t get any LEOs involved. Not with Ariana as hostage.”

  “How’s the BOLO on Hector Alcantara?” John asked instead.

  “It’s in flux,” Levi replied.

  “Guys, we have a problem,” Powell’s voice came from the laptop’s audio. “A couple of streets opposite the airfield I see a van for surveillance with all the gizmos on its roof. Dammit!”

  “What?”

  “Two unmarked vans pulled in near the airfield.”

  “What?”

  “Check the police channels,” Garrison ordered. “The one for the task force.”

  Migs clenched his jaw to keep from yelling at Nadia to do her job faster. Somehow despite John being brusque with her, he wouldn’t take kindly if Migs did the same.

  “It is the task force,” Powell said. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Can you tell them to stand down?” Migs asked.

  “That’s not going to happen.” John slapped his palm on the steering wheel seemingly as frustrated as Migs was.

  “Well, we can’t let them pull the shit they did at the warehouse,” he argued. “I don’t think Benito is going to take that sitting down and I’m not about to let Ariana get caught in the crossfire.”

  When their Suburban made the turn onto the airfield’s road, they were getting flagged down by none other than Lenox. The DEA agent looked as pissed now as he did when they’d walked out of the station that morning weeks ago.

  “Fuck.”

  “I got word to them,” Powell said. �
��Thank me later that you all didn’t cause a shootout.”

  “It’s your job,” John clipped.

  “What was that again?” the analyst snapped. “Your blackmail can only go so far.”

  Blackmail?

  Bristow snorted. He hadn’t said a word on the way here, but he sure was busy checking his gear. Migs glanced at him. “Got another one of those?” He pointed to the automatic rifle.

  “Yeah,” the agent handed him a long gun, twisted in his seat, and grabbed a vest from the back. “Might as well put this on.”

  Decelerating and then stopping, Garrison rolled down the window. Lenox ducked his head to look at the occupants, recognizing Migs. His eyes widened. “Can’t say I’m surprised to see you here. I’m sorry about what happened at the country club.” His tone was sincere, much to Migs’ surprise. The DEA agent turned his attention to John. “Your analyst sent us your credentials, but we’re about to head in. I can’t let you take the lead. I hear Carillo has Ariana Ortega?”

  “Walker,” Migs corrected. “Don’t need to remind you that’s my wife with him.”

  Lenox nodded grimly. “We got that.”

  “How did you get here so fast?” John asked.

  Migs wondered the same.

  “Anonymous tip. That warehouse apparently has a tunnel all the way to Tijuana.” Lenox leaned his hand on the roof and peered at all the men in the vehicle. “I don’t need additional shit to think about and I know trying to get you guys to sit this one out is futile. So you follow us. You wear DEA flak jackets so we don’t shoot you. My men are taking the lead. Got me? Gear up in first van.”

  “Is anyone having a bad feeling about this?” Bristow asked. “Powell, you there?”

  “I’m listening and I agree. I was going to track down that tip, but I’m monitoring too many channels right now.”

  “Three of us are going to wear the DEA comms. Levi is going to stay with you.” Garrison turned to the big guy. “Hang back, but if Powell says something doesn’t look right, you signal us.” He held up three fingers.

  “Copy that,” both Levi and Powell said.

  “Anyone wonder why they’re using a plane?” Bristow asked. “With no flight plan they’re in danger of getting tagged by Air Patrol.”