He knew who Pierce Hunt was after all. Hector touched the bloodstained bandage on his left arm. He had exchanged a few shots with the man today. And he had the distinct impression he and Hunt would see each other again very soon.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Miami, Florida
Hunt eased off the throttle and turned on the boat’s remote-controlled spotlight. A powerful beam immediately reflected off the water. Hunt used a joystick mounted on the dash to direct the beam. He quickly found the two long poles indicating the entrance to the narrow channel leading to Tony Garcia’s house and steered the boat in that direction. The house was hard to miss. Not only was it huge—at least by Hunt’s standards—but spotlights were also aimed at the surrounding grounds. Hunt knew the residence was protected by an elaborate security system. As he got closer, he noted the armed men waiting for him on the dock.
Hunt used the joystick to back the boat into one of the slips. Hunt killed the engines, and one of the men threw a couple of lines to secure the boat.
“Leave your weapons in the boat, Mr. Hunt,” he said.
Hunt didn’t need to look up to recognize whom the voice belonged to. Mauricio Tasis, Tony Garcia’s most brutal and loyal enforcer. Out of necessity, to strengthen his cover, Hunt had once forged a friendship with Tasis. His method of intelligence gathering was crude but highly effective. He wasn’t afraid of breaking a bone or two, if needed.
“I’m not armed,” Hunt lied. If Tasis thought Hunt was going to face Tony and Anna Garcia weaponless, he was badly mistaken. His pistol would remain in the boat’s cabin, but his ceramic knife, which he could draw at a moment’s notice, was secured to the underside of his left forearm. It wasn’t much against the submachine guns Garcia’s men were carrying, but it beat the hell out of having to count on one’s fists to kill a man.
Tasis gestured for him to join him on the dock. Hunt obeyed and stepped out of the boat. One man pressed a gun into his back and used it to push him toward the edge of the dock. They were going to search him. Hunt had expected this and didn’t complain. The handheld metal detector they used let out a low humming noise but didn’t beep when it went over the ceramic knife. Still not satisfied even though the wand hadn’t beeped, one man started to pat him down. That, though, Hunt wouldn’t allow.
He pivoted 180 degrees and grabbed the man’s left wrist, then twisted it to lock the elbow. The man’s eyes opened wide in pain and shock. Hunt drove his left hand into the locked elbow, dislocating the man’s arm. He then slammed his right elbow into the man’s face, breaking his nose, before pushing him off the dock and into the water. The man’s partner was quick to react and lashed out at Hunt with a knife while Tasis yelled at his man to stand down. Hunt stepped clear as the tip of the knife swung wildly past his chest. Before the man could try again, Hunt buried his knee deep into his abdomen, doubling him over and dropping him to his knees before easily wrenching the knife out of his hand. Hunt threw the knife into the ocean and then kneed the man again, this time under the chin, knocking him out. Hunt looked at Tasis. He hadn’t moved an inch. He was still standing twenty feet away, a smile on his lips with his MP5 hanging from a sling on his neck.
“You haven’t changed at all,” Tasis said.
“We’re still friends?”
The smile vanished, replaced by a sidelong look of disgust.
“You betrayed everyone I care for, Mr. Hunt, and not stopping you is my biggest failure.”
“They kept you around nonetheless.”
“Because I promised I’d kill you one day.”
“So why don’t you shoot me?” Hunt said, tapping his finger on his forehead. “This is your chance.”
“Don’t tempt me,” Tasis replied, his voice cold as ice. “There’s nothing I’d like to do more than put you down like the dog you are.”
Hunt didn’t doubt the man’s seriousness. He’d feel exactly the same if he was in Tasis’s shoes. Still, time was of the essence, and they had already lost enough of it bullshitting each other.
“Can I see her now?”
Tasis headed toward the residence, leaving Hunt to follow. “I pray to God your meeting doesn’t go well.”
“And why’s that?”
“So I can put a bullet in your thick head.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Pompano Beach, Florida
One of his phones buzzed him awake. Cole Egan reluctantly rolled away from his wife and reached for it on the nightstand. He had a new text message: 9738184537120.
Damn it!
There was no way he was going back to sleep now. To anyone reading it—Katherine in particular—these numbers would look random. But Egan knew better. If he subtracted one from each number, he’d get a Chinese cell phone number. Protocols negotiated a little less than a decade ago stipulated he had fifteen minutes to call back. It was a simple code but an efficient one.
Egan quietly climbed out of bed. The night was pitch-black, and Katherine’s soft breath was the only sound. He closed the bedroom door behind him and went to his office to make the call. He unlocked the filing cabinet in which he kept his biometric safe. From the safe, he grabbed one of many burner phones and dialed the Chinese number.
“I hope I didn’t wake you,” the voice on the other end said.
“We both know you couldn’t care less.”
“Very true. It makes me wonder why I try to make small talk with you.”
“I was wondering the same thing,” Egan said. “What can I do for you?”
“Hector will call you within the next five minutes at this number. He’ll tell you what needs to be done.”
That was unusual. Hector Mieles was a capable man and an exceptional leader. But Egan didn’t work for him. He worked for only one person. That, too, had been negotiated.
Since Egan hadn’t replied, the person at the other end decided to add an explanation. “This is a onetime deal, and I’ll double your fee.”
This was getting interesting. His normal fee was $200,000. The bonus would go a long way toward paying for his future kid’s education. If his boss was ready to pony up such a large amount of money for a single target, there was a catch. So he asked what the catch was.
“He’s a federal agent.”
That wasn’t a big deal. He had killed more than his share of DEA and ATF agents. Why the higher fee, then? As if his interlocutor had read his thoughts, the next statement offered somewhat of an explanation.
“In case you wonder why I’m offering a premium, the target is a highly trained DEA agent. He’s also a veteran, just like you, Mr. Granger.”
Mr. Granger had been his code name for the past ten years. In some circles, the name was both feared and respected. It was said Mr. Granger had never failed to kill his target and that his smile was the last thing you’d ever see.
“Five hundred thousand.”
He heard his employer take a deep breath.
“I’m told you’re expecting a child,” the voice said. “Congratulations to you and Katherine. A boy or a girl?”
Even though the words were spoken quietly, Egan took them as the threat they were meant to be. It was also a clear message: Don’t push it, or I’ll squish you.
“What are the rules of engagement?”
“Get it done, but don’t get caught. You’re precious to me. Am I clear?”
“Yes.”
Even Mr. Granger couldn’t say no to the Black Tosca. Not if he wanted his family to keep breathing.
After relaying the caller’s phone number to Hector, Valentina tossed the mobile phone into the roaring fireplace. If her cousin was the general of her army, Cole Egan—a.k.a. Mr. Granger—was her scalpel on American soil. He was meticulous and precise and had never failed to accomplish the missions she’d given him. And he was great in bed too. It had been a while since she had shared something intimate with him, but Egan wasn’t the type of lover a woman forgot easily. She felt a tad jealous toward Katherine. Then she laughed at her own silliness. Maybe Egan cou
ld fake playing family for a while, but in the end, he was just like her—a sociopath.
Egan let his mind wander while he waited for Hector’s call.
A decade ago, he had come back from Gaza shattered in mind and body. He spent ten months in a military hospital recovering from his wounds and undergoing numerous operations. His body healed, but his mind remained plagued by what the terrorists had done to him. After countless sessions with numerous army shrinks, they threw in the towel and discharged him.
Thank you for your service. Here’s the door. Good luck with the rest of your life.
He had given them everything in exchange for what? Recurring nightmares and a derisory medical pension? At first glance, it looked that way, but that was shortsighted. In fact, the army had given him much more than that. It had given him the ability to dehumanize his enemies. And to kill them. And he was pretty damn good at it.
A French private military company, impressed with his résumé, had hired him and sent him to Venezuela to train future members of the Venezuelan president’s protective detail. Not only did he love the job, but they’d paid him exponentially more than the United States military had. His new position gave him access to powerful men within the Venezuelan government. These powerful men, Egan quickly learned, were more than happy to part with large sums of money in exchange for the assassination of the antigovernment movement leaders who threatened to topple the president. It was a lucrative market, albeit a dangerous one. But Egan was a professional, and word spread around Caracas that a new, infallible assassin was in town. Soon after, he quit the PMC and started working solo, locally at first and then all over South America.
One day, after a successful assignment in Mexico, he woke up tied to a bed, naked. It was evident the bartender had slipped a narcotic into his drink. He recognized the woman standing next to him the moment he opened his eyes. The Black Tosca wasn’t only the most stunning woman he had ever had the pleasure to share a room with, but she was also known as the most lethal bitch in the drug world. And here she was, staring at him, a black whip in her hand.
“What are you gonna do with that?” he asked in Spanish.
“I don’t know yet. It depends,” she replied in Spanish-inflected English he found irresistible.
“On what?”
“Do you know who I am?”
“Miss Universe?”
The whip came down hard on his right nipple. It hurt. Kind of.
“Do you know who I am?” she repeated.
“The Black Tosca.”
She nodded and removed her pants. Her legs were gorgeous in shimmering thigh-high stockings.
“Would you like to work for me?”
“What if I say—”
That time the whip came down much harder on his nipple. It drew blood.
“Would you like to work for me?”
“I’d love to.”
The Black Tosca smiled. “I’m glad you said that, because the next reprimand was a bullet in your pretty face, and that would have been a real shame. I kind of like you,” she said, sitting on top of him.
The next morning, an understanding had been reached. She was going to pay him handsomely to operate in the United States. Once in a while, there would be an odd job for him in Mexico or in Europe. He would work for and report to only her.
His life changed six months later when she summoned him to a beautiful bachelor pad in Mexico City. After they had sex, she gave him a photo of Katherine McMaster.
“I want you to seduce this lovely girl.”
“What for?”
“Because I fucking asked you to, and I pay you so much money that you’ll do whatever I want.”
He couldn’t argue with her logic. Plus, the girl was pretty.
“What’s her name?”
“Katherine McMaster. Her father is Daniel McMaster, the special agent in charge of the DEA’s Weston field office.”
“I see.”
“This will be a long-term operation.”
“Can you describe ‘long term’?”
“Until I tell you to stop.”
The phone chirped in Egan’s hand. He had fallen asleep for a minute.
“Yes.”
“Were you told I’d be calling?”
Hector.
“I was.”
“We need you to take care of someone for us.”
Of course you do, Hector, Egan thought. “Please send all pertinent information—”
“It’s already in your draft folder.”
That was quick.
To communicate electronically without leaving a trace, Egan and the Black Tosca would write messages and leave them in the draft folder. So instead of sending the messages, they would read each other’s drafts and delete them the moment they were done with them.
Egan logged in to the account and clicked to open the draft email. Seeing a name from the past shocked him to the core.
Pierce Hunt.
How in hell did Hunt get involved with the Black Tosca? Then he remembered Hunt had joined the DEA right after he left the army. After Gaza, they hadn’t kept in touch much. A few phone calls while he was working with the French PMC to let Hunt know he was back on his feet, but nothing once he started working solo. He doubted Hunt would approve of his career choice.
“So?” Hector asked after a minute had passed. “Any issues?”
“I know the man,” Egan said.
“What? How?” Hector seemed to be genuinely intrigued.
“We served together.”
“I see,” Hector replied, disappointment evident in his voice. “Will it be a problem?”
Hector was worried. And he should be, Egan thought. Hunt wasn’t someone you wanted to tangle with.
Even though they hadn’t talked in a few years, Hunt was the one person he trusted with his life. They were still brothers, forever linked by the blood they’d shed together fighting in the desert. What if he refused the contract? Would the Black Tosca turn on him? She would be foolish to. Because of him, she had remote access to Daniel McMaster’s two laptops, mobile phone, and desktop. He was her entry into the DEA’s database. Five months ago, he would have taken his chances and turned down the assignment. But that was before Katherine had gotten pregnant.
“This man is a trained operator,” Egan said. “He’s not an easy mark.”
“This is why my cousin doubled your fee,” Hector reminded him.
“How did he come up on your radar?”
It took a few seconds for Hector to reply. “By mistake, really. We kidnapped his daughter when—”
“You kidnapped his daughter?” How stupid were they? “Are you out of your fucking mind? Pierce is a warrior. When confronted, he attacks.”
“I said it was a mistake. I didn’t—”
“You think he gives a shit if it was a mistake or not?” Egan was doing his absolute best not to yell into the phone. Hector seemed to have no idea of the gravity of the situation.
“We were supposed to grab only Tony Garcia’s daughter,” Hector explained. “We didn’t know who Leila was.”
“He won’t rest before he kills everyone involved,” Egan warned him.
“He’s only one man.”
“Maybe, but you have no idea what he’s capable of, my friend. He’s relentless, and he has nothing to lose. Please tell me his daughter is still alive.”
“She is.”
You’re a lucky man, then, Hector. He’ll kill you quickly.
“My suggestion to you is this,” Egan said. “Put a bag over her head, then drop her at a busy street corner. Then leave and never come back.”
He wondered if Hector would be clever enough to follow his advice. He wasn’t.
“Enough talking. The instructions are in the draft folder. Do your job, Mr. Granger,” Hector said, putting an end to the conversation. “And you’d better do it well.”
The line went dead. Shit!
He could try to leave. Go to Thailand or something. He had just over $4 million
stashed away in a safe deposit box in the Bahamas and another half mil stashed in his house. Not a huge amount, but enough to live comfortably in Asia with Katherine and the kid. If it was him alone, he was confident they wouldn’t be able to track him down. But with Katherine and the kid in tow? Not so sure.
Was he ready to pay the ultimate price to find out?
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Miami, Florida
Hunt followed Tasis into the main house. The faint smell of onions and cumin that came rolling out of the kitchen triggered a rush of emotions and memories. Some terrible ones, of course, but they weren’t all bad. He had shared some good laughs here with Tony and Anna.
Tasis’s voice reminded him things had changed since the last giggles.
“I’ll be here, watching. Please do something stupid,” Tasis whispered as Hunt walked past him and entered the living room, where Tony and Anna were seated.
Hunt didn’t bother to reply and instead scanned the living room to make sure there wasn’t anyone else waiting with a gun pointed at his head.
There was no one. Tasis closed the door behind him, and Hunt was left alone with Tony and Anna Garcia. Anna was seated next to her brother, and neither of them bothered to stand up. Anna’s arms were folded, and her face was an impassive mask that Hunt couldn’t read. But damned if she wasn’t the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on. The thought of her ripe curves beneath her summer dress still stirred his blood. Her brother, on the other hand, looked like he wanted to skin him alive.
It was Anna who broke the silence. She placed a reassuring hand on Tony’s arm and said, “Thanks for coming.”
Hunt nodded but didn’t say anything. It was kind of surreal to be in the same room as Anna and Tony. Twenty-four hours ago, that wouldn’t have been possible. But now they all had to face the incredible and delicate situation in which they found themselves.
“So you kept the note I gave you,” Hunt said.
“I wasn’t sure you’d call back.”
“I’m here, and I think that if we can help it at all, we shouldn’t let our emotions get in the way.”
Hunt Them Down (Pierce Hunt Book 1) Page 11
