Impulsively Harry kicked out his leg, hitting the man’s upper left arm, the toe of his boot sliding into the man’s cheek.
The man stumbled back, swearing in Spanish, and pulled a gun from behind his back. He stepped forward, aiming the pistol at Harry. “You’re going to pay for that, gringo.”
“How do you think your boss will react when you spoil his party?” Harry said quickly.
Hesitating, the man swore again. “Later, gringo. I will remember this when we all have fun with both of you.” He slammed the trunk shut.
Quiet.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that, Isabella.” Harry cleared his throat. “I was worried he would find your knife before you had a chance to use it.”
To be honest, he had acted out of anger. Stupid. It might have been their one chance to get free. Steel had often told him sometimes you had only one opportunity. He had to believe they would have another.
“Gracias,” she said softly. “I shouldn’t have reacted to him as I did. It was my fault too.” After a little while, sounding resigned, she said, “Okay, tell me Steel’s story. I’ll listen, but I can’t say I will believe it.”
“Sure.” He started talking, telling the story as Christie had told it to him.
When he finished, she was quiet for a minute, and then talked softly. “When I first saw what they had done to Marita, I threw up. I wanted to forget about it. It was so terrible. But then my father wanted revenge, and so did my brothers. They wouldn’t let it go. I couldn’t let them do this alone so I pretended I wanted revenge too. All this hate and violence. It makes me sick.”
He decided to press her. “What did your father want from Jack and Christie?”
“He told them to kill the Alvarez cartel people or he would kill you.”
He thought about it. “Maybe it was a blessing in disguise.”
“How could it be? My father forced Jack and Christie to murder people.”
“If your father hadn’t sent Steel after the cartel, the cartel might have blindsided him and Christie. They might be dead now. Instead they surprised the cartel.”
It was a few moments before she responded. “Are you saying that just to make me feel better?”
“No, I mean it.”
She sounded resigned. “The cartel must know what is going on.”
“Yeah, the killer is probably bringing us to his boss.”
“They will do to me what they did to Marita.”
He heard the fear in her voice. “Not if I can help it.”
“Thank you, Harry.” She put her hand on his arm. “You are one of the good ones.”
“If I forget about the kidnapping, drugging, and stabbing, then I think you have a good heart too, Isabella.”
They were quiet for a few minutes.
“Do you have any dreams, Harry?”
“I’d like to build a house on some land and do beekeeping and grow herbs. You?”
“I’d like to write a book about authentic Mexican cuisine. I’m a chef.” She paused. “I hope we both live to see our dreams come true, Harry.”
“Me too.” He doubted either of them would live through another day.
CHAPTER 37
Angel had taken off his wig and the rest of his disguise before he reached Las Vegas.
He had arranged for one of Diego’s men to meet him a mile from the Wynn and drive his car around while he met with Diego. It wasn’t prudent to leave the car unattended in case Harry and Isabella made too much noise and were discovered. He also wanted to see the hotel entrance from a distance to judge the best way for Diego to exit it.
The walk gave him a chance to stretch his legs and wake up after driving all night nonstop to get here.
While strolling toward the hotel he was observant of everyone around him. Tourists, a few police officers, and employees. All mixed together on the sidewalks, overflowing out from the casinos, hotels, and other venues.
He detested the glitz and phoniness of Las Vegas, but Renata had told him to suggest it to Diego as being the safest. She was always right.
He stopped across the street from the Wynn, got out his phone, and called her. It gave him a chance to scan everyone within a block of the Wynn in all directions without being obvious. Superb at noticing people that were out of place, he was especially looking for Steel, Christie, and her brother Clay. Though he doubted they would be out in the open here.
As the phone rang he paced and moved his lips as if he was talking, while taking quick peeks up and down the sidewalks. Nobody seemed suspicious. But he did enjoy watching a young man with long hair and wearing a hoodie skating down the sidewalk across the street, weaving in and out of pedestrians. That took skill.
Renata answered and she sounded excited. “I found us a nice beach house in the Bahamas, Angel! It’s so beautiful. And private like you wanted. It’s on one of the smaller islands.”
“Wonderful, dear sister.” He chuckled. “Now can we make sure I am available for the trip?”
“Of course! I was just so excited I had to tell you.”
“Gracias. I’m in Las Vegas. One of Diego’s men is driving my car around with Harry and Isabella. I’m across from the Wynn, about to enter to meet Diego and go to the meeting with his friends.”
“Don’t attend the meeting, dear brother. It’s best if these people don’t know you. That’s not my sight, just logic.”
He thought about that. “I’ll tell Diego that I’ll follow him into the desert and see if anyone tails him. He will appreciate that cleverness.”
She was quiet a few moments. “I sense they will be waiting for you in the desert.”
He smiled. “It’s going to be an adventure.”
“You’re crazy! Even though I’ve heard you say it a thousand times, it still makes me nervous.”
He became serious. “Do you sense anything else I should be worried about?”
“I don’t trust Diego. I think he would not hesitate to hurt you if you refuse to carry out his vengeance.”
He knew she was right. “I look forward to the Bahamas, dear sister, and a new life.” That idea made him feel warm inside.
“It’s so exciting! Call me if anything doesn’t feel right.”
“I promise.” Putting his phone away, he crossed the street whistling. Carefree in his stride, smiling at everyone who passed him, he still ran his gaze carefully up and down the block. Nothing caused alarm.
He strolled into the hotel’s main driveway entrance, noting the limos, the parking lots, and the trees lining the drive. Many places to hide. But Steel would never choose to have a shootout in a busy public place.
After entering the main lobby, he bypassed the registration desk and strode down the corridor to the villa Diego had rented. Along the way he noted everyone, but all he saw were tourists.
To him the hotel was decadent. People were starving in the world while these fools pretended that all this show meant something.
The three billion spent on the building was obvious in the colorfully designed floors, shining wood, wall art, and beautiful architecture. But he scorned the empty lies it told. That it was all here to welcome guests as friends, to make their lives easier. Or that guests were important and powerful if they were surrounded by such opulence, when in fact the hotel owners cared nothing for anyone. All they wanted was your money.
At least the cartel was blunt about their business and not pretending they were trying to help anyone. However Diego liked to live high and paying three-thousand a night was nothing for him. The drug lord also liked to gamble.
Diego was born into the Alvarez cartel, whereas Angel had fought his way in. If the rich tourists in the hotel spent a week on the streets in Mexico or Bogotá, their pathetic weakness would be revealed.
His musings brought back memories of Bogotá; his family’s farm and his parents.
He rarely thought of them anymore and was surprised those memories had surfaced. Another sign that he was ready for a new life.
He walked to the villa door and knocked. One of Diego’s men answered, hastily stepping aside for him to enter. Diego was standing on the outdoor pool patio. They embraced each other. Remembering Renata’s warning about Diego, Angel kept his face calm.
Diego’s eyes glistened. “It was as I feared. They killed Vincente, his girlfriend, and the six men with him, even though my brother was prepared and had set a trap.” He hung his head. “My beloved brother, gone.”
Angel was impressed. He had guessed as much, but to hear it from Diego’s mouth made it real. Vincente was smart. Which meant Steel and Christie were formidable.
“I am sorry, Diego. There are no words that can bring Vincente back, but I hope in time your fond memories of him will help your heart heal.” He meant what he said. If he ever lost Renata, it would crush him.
Diego lifted his head. “You always know what to say to make me feel better, Angel.” His eyes hardened. “Will we be prepared to take Steel?”
“We have always been better than...” He avoided saying Vincente and instead said, “…our enemies. We will kill all of them, have fun with the leftovers, and then bury them. Afterward I will continue hunting the rest of their families.”
“Good. The ISIS contact will be here in a half hour.” Diego’s eyes glinted. “Soon we will have our revenge on the government and people of this country.”
“I’ve had a little taste and I’m ready for more.” But ever since he had decided to leave the cartel he didn’t care about retribution anymore. He was looking forward to his new life.
Now he just wanted to kill Steel so the man didn’t hunt him when he left the cartel. One more fight. He had been a good friend of Gustavo Alvarez so that obligation spoke to him too. But Diego and his continuing vengeance meant nothing to him now.
“What is your plan?” Diego spoke softly, as if the villa was bugged.
It reminded Angel of Diego’s paranoia. The cartel leader trusted no one and that practice had kept him alive. He would have to be careful. “I will skip the meeting, make a quick trip to our storage locker, and return to see who follows you. I’ll arrive last, with our cargo. We know they are coming. They won’t try anything here or in the city. If I can surprise them from behind, that will give us another advantage in addition to what we have planned.”
Diego frowned. “What about my exit from the hotel?”
“Make it easy for them. Have the valet bring your car to the main entrance of the hotel. We don’t want them to miss the party.”
Diego smiled. “Always a step ahead of our prey, El Lobo.”
Angel returned the smile, curious if Diego had any clue that the wolf was leaving him. Over the years, several times he had almost told Diego about Renata, but she had always cautioned him against it. He was thankful he had kept her a secret.
Diego clapped his arm. “I will see you soon, amigo. And after this is over we can have fun with your two captives.”
Angel forced a smile and left. He found Diego’s enthusiasm about raping and torturing Isabella repulsive.
On his way out he spotted someone in the lobby who didn’t quite fit. Latino. Male. Thirties. The man stood too stiffly. Ex-military. Perhaps related to Isabella. It didn’t matter.
Leaving via a different exit, he walked aimlessly through a few shops to make sure no one followed him. Once he was back outside, he walked another mile down the boulevard before calling Diego’s man to bring his car.
Steel’s group would know his description, but they would not recognize his white car. Its tinted windows ensured they couldn’t see him in it either.
He considered the coming battle. The last big one of his career with the cartel. And the most important. There was a good chance Steel’s people would kill most if not all of Diego’s men. He would kill Steel, and sometime during the fight he would have to kill Isabella and Harry to spare them Diego’s twisted plans of torture.
He considered his future with Renata. She was right. He had to kill Diego too.
CHAPTER 38
Clay felt he had given in too easily to Christie. Just the thought of her facing Angel, even with Steel and the others, worried him sick. The man was evil and would be prepared.
Christie had told him many times that Steel was the best of the best, but he had never seen the man in action. It did console him that they had taken care of two cartel leaders and their hired guns without serious injuries.
Dale still weighed heavily on his mind. And the call to his parents had been one of the hardest things he had ever done. They took it quietly, but they would grieve deeply.
He called Meera and she answered immediately.
“How are you, my love?” she asked.
“Better. Sad. Afraid. I want to kill them all today.”
“I know, Clay. This has all been very hard on you and your family. All of you are heroes.”
“Heroes don’t get their little brother killed.”
“You did your best, Clay. You always do. Everyone knows you would have died to save Dale. No one blames you.”
He choked up. “Thank you.”
“Me and the boys are going to spend some time with your parents. It will help them.”
“Thank you, honey.”
“Please be careful, Clay. Your two boys need their father.”
“I’m coming home. I promise you that. I can’t wait to leave this hell behind.”
“I love you.”
“You too. See you soon.” He hung up, feeling impatient.
In three minutes his phone rang and he answered it. Mario. Carlos’ son had found the room Diego had registered in as Roberto López and watched who came and went.
“You are up, Clay.” Mario sent a photo to Clay’s phone.
Clay looked at the photo. “Are you sure this guy is the ISIS contact?”
“He fits the profile, Clay. It’s a best guess. I could be wrong, but I don’t think so. How many Middle Eastern guests is someone like Diego going to have?”
Clay started his rental car. He was parked fifty feet from the main check-in entrance to the Wynn.
The man Mario had photographed exited the hotel entrance. All Clay had to do was get the license plate of the man’s car and follow him. He would pass the intel to Steel, who would contact Jeffries, who then would inform Las Vegas FBI and give them the vehicle description and plate, along with Clay’s location.
When the FBI took over following the terrorist, Clay would rejoin the others in time for the assault on Diego. Steel didn’t want to contact the FBI directly since they would want to question him and interfere with the Diego fight.
Mario came out and tipped his cowboy hat toward the departing ISIS terrorist. Then he headed toward the parking lot and his vehicle to join his father for the assault.
Clay felt a flash of anger as he watched one of the men that had kidnapped Harry walk away. “Working with a criminal,” he muttered.
He studied the ISIS operative walking down the sidewalk. Average in every way. Height, weight, and a non-descriptive face. Wearing a brown collared shirt and white pants. Late twenties. Middle Eastern in heritage, but from what country he couldn’t be sure. But secretly a terrorist.
He wondered if the man was on the FBI’s watchlist. It would be easier and save everyone time and trouble to just run him over.
Wheeling the car out slowly, he stopped at the front hotel entrance, waiting for the terrorist to walk farther ahead. The man reached Las Vegas Boulevard and took a left down the sidewalk.
Clay quickly pulled up to the street and watched as a white van stopped in the road a half-block down. The terrorist got into the front passenger seat. At this distance he couldn’t make out the van’s license plate.
He pulled out to follow
the van, thinking Christie should have been following these guys. Much easier, with much less risk.
His teeth jarred and the side of his body slammed into his door as a grinding crash of breaking glass and twisting metal filled his ears. His rental car was jolted sideways up over the curb. Shaken, he looked out the passenger window.
A silver SUV with a push bar and tinted windows was already backing away from his car. He ducked down reflexively in case they were going to shoot him, but he heard the vehicle speed off.
Opening the door, he got out, kneeling, while reaching for the SIG beneath his shirt at his back. He didn’t pull his gun. The white van and SUV were racing down the boulevard. The SUV turned off the boulevard, quickly lost to sight, while the white van remained on the road, disappearing around a bend.
Standing, his legs shaky, he walked in front of his car to assess the damage. The front passenger tire was leaning at an angle. Undriveable.
“You idiot!” He had just let everyone down while they were risking their necks, and he had no easy way to rejoin them. Taxi, Uber, or rental car.
A blue pickup pulled over and stopped ahead of his car. He tensed, his hand going back to the SIG again.
Mario leaned out the driver window. “Get in, Clay.”
Surprised, he hustled to the passenger side of the truck and got in, not looking at Mario. “White van. I couldn’t get the plate number.”
Mario stomped on the gas in silence. At the next intersection they saw the white van two blocks down at a stoplight. Veering around a slow-moving car, Mario hit the gas hard to catch up. When he was a half-dozen cars behind the van, he slowed down and settled back into his seat.
“Binoculars, paper, and pen in the glove compartment, Clay. Get the license plate.”
Clay had the binoculars up to his eyes in seconds. “Got it.” He wrote down the number on the paper and put the binoculars away. Grudgingly he said, “Thanks. I’ll call Steel.” He got out his phone.
“You were made following Diego’s ISIS contact, either by the terrorist’s associates or Diego’s. Either way, the terrorists will know someone is on to them.” Mario’s voice was steady. “What if they call their associates and warn them?”
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