The satellite tech squirmed. “Um, sir? I don’t have that authority.”
“You do now.” Jameson glared at the man. “Contact any Homeland field offices near where that plane intends to land and have them put boots on the ground. My order, you got that?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Scoot. I have work to do.” He watched the tech scramble to leave and sat back in his chair. “Oh, Bridger. What can of worms have you kicked over this time?”
He reached for the phone and picked it up. A moment later, Robert Ingram answered. “Bridger’s alive.”
“How?” He couldn’t hide the surprise in his voice.
“I’ve no freakin’ idea, but the son of a bitch is headed home as we speak.” He rubbed at his jaw as he stared at the map on the wall. “Whoever left the scene of that attack ahead of him is on their way to the States as well. I’d bet money it’s the head of the cartel.”
“You think they’re bringing the fight here?”
“I’d bet another steak dinner on it.”
Ingram snorted over the phone. “Not just no, but hell no. I’ve learned to trust your gut.” He sighed as he considered the possibilities. “So what do you want to do?”
“I’m thinking, Robert.” He continued to stare at the map. “How do you feel about letting a few assets off the chain to back him up?”
Ingram sat forward. “Won’t that be tipping your hand? If he gets wind of your wanting him as a field operative, I’d lay odds that you’ll never see him again.”
Jameson smiled to himself. “We’ll just to have to make sure he doesn’t know where the help is coming from.”
“What about his own team?”
Jameson shook his head. “He’s kept them out of this so far. Something tells me he’s taking this personally, and he’s keeping his personal issues separated from his work.”
“So how do you want to play this?”
“I’m thinking a quid pro quo from somebody from his past.” He sat forward and punched the wake up button on his computer. “Go through your files and see if you have any active assets that he’s worked with in the past. Preferably somebody that he has a real history with.”
“Meanwhile, what are you going to do?”
Jameson tapped at his keyboard. “The same. But I’m also going to see if I can create a situation for him that he can’t say no to.”
Ingram chuckled. “Yeah, good luck with that. People like Bridger can say no to a lot. Especially when it’s in his best interest not to.”
“No doubt he’s pigheaded, Robert. We just have to figure out a way to work that against him.”
Over the Skies of Mexico
* * *
Mario ran a finger along the edge of Teresa’s photo. He squeezed his eyes shut and remembered her laugh. Her touch. Her smell.
“We will meet again one day, my love.”
“Señor?” The pilot appeared in the cockpit doorway. “We are approaching the Texas border. Do you wish to—”
“Continue to Houston,” Mario interrupted. “We have associates there that I need to speak with.”
The pilot nodded slightly. “Very well.”
He watched the door shut then picked up the phone. A moment later a voice answered. “Si?”
“Fernando, I will be arriving soon. I need you to gather your people.”
“How many, señor?”
Mario chuckled. “All of them. And tell them to bring all the weapons they can get their hands on.”
“We go to war?”
Mario nodded to himself. “Si. We are definitely going to war.”
Fernando’s voice took on an ominous tone. “Who are we killing?”
“First we have some business to take care of in Texas. Then we return to Mexico and finish what Esmerelda started.”
“Esmerelda? The Sinaloa?” He sounded almost afraid.
“One and the same.” Mario’s voice hardened as he spoke. “She had huevos big enough to attack Teresa’s villa. They destroyed it.” He inhaled sharply and fought the urge to scream. “We are going to find out if their cojones are as big as they think they are.”
“What’s the end game, señor?”
Mario chuckled. “We remove all memory of the Sinaloa. We take over their territory and their shipping lanes. And if any of the other Dons wish to confront us over it, we take what is theirs, too.”
Fernando laughed. “A conglomerate, si?”
“More like a hostile takeover, Fernando.” He snapped his fingers. “Go. Make the calls. We do not want to give the gringos time to regroup.”
32
Dallas, TX
* * *
“We should call the team,” Gregg said as he hefted one of the crates.
Bridger shook his head. “This isn’t their fight.”
Gregg dropped the crate unceremoniously and dragged him aside, dropping his voice. “Since when do we turn away tangible assets? Especially our own?”
Bridger took a long, deep breath and let it out slowly. “This isn’t their problem, Gregg. They have no dog in this fight.”
“The hell they don’t!” he practically yelled. “WE are their dogs, and we are definitely in this fight.” He shook his head angrily. “We have no idea the assets that the cartel will—”
“Mario,” Bridger interrupted. “This is Mario. We know what his assets are and we just wiped out ninety percent of them.”
Gregg’s eyes narrowed at him. “At that location. We have no idea how strong his organization is. And with the money at his disposal, who knows how many mercs he could hire to finish the job.”
The corners of Bridger’s mouth lifted into an angry smile. “This is personal for him, Slip. He’s not going to hire an outside force.”
“You can’t know that.”
Bridger nodded. “Yes, I can.”
“Bobby, you only met Gomez a handful of times. You don’t know the man. If you did, you would have seen that he’d flipped on us.”
Bridger shook his head. “We’re not calling in the team.”
Gregg groaned and looked away. “Can we put them on standby? Just in case?” He turned back to him and met his gaze. “Just alert them to a possible issue, have them ready to zip in and—”
“No.” The tone of his voice left no room for discussion. “If you want to go back to the office and wait this out, call a fucking Uber.” He turned and marched past the man, scooping up their gear as he went.
Gregg watched him for a moment then cursed under his breath before kicking one of the crates. “Pig headed son of a—”
“Problem?” Lisa asked.
Gregg turned to her and opened his mouth, too many ideas forming at once to create a logical sentence. “Him!” he finally spouted, pointing at Bridger.
She smirked and patted his shoulder. “He’s a frustrating bastard, that’s for certain.” She leaned in and lowered her voice, “But there’s nobody else I’d want covering my six in a fight.”
Gregg hung his head and nodded slightly. “He won’t let me alert our team for support.” He looked up at her and she felt her stomach tighten. “I have a very bad feeling about this.”
Lisa felt her mouth go dry and she glanced to Bridger’s retreating form. “Why won’t he call for backup?”
“He says it’s not their fight.” Gregg sighed and felt his shoulders slump. “This is personal for him. And apparently for Mario.”
“I’m still not convinced that it’s him.”
“I know you’re not, but he is.” He nodded towards Bridger. “Do those two have some kind of beef that I’m not aware of?”
Lisa shook her head. “Not that I know about.”
“Then why is he being like this?” Gregg huffed then bent over and picked up the plastic case. “It’s like he wants to knock the props out from under us before we even start.”
Lisa stared at Bridger’s back a moment longer. “No.” She crossed her arms and studied the man. “This is our past coming back to haunt us. He thinks t
hat we should be the ones to deal with it.”
“You know that Mario…er…‘Murillo’s ghost’ is going to pull out all the stops. He’s going to come at us with everything he’s got.”
Lisa shrugged. “Maybe.”
Gregg shook his head. “There’s no maybe to it. He sent kill squads after you and DJ. He took out Rob and made it look like an accident,” he scoffed. “He’s going to throw everything but the kitchen sink at us.”
“Then we need to make ready.”
Gregg stared at her open mouthed. “I’m okay with preparing for this. I just think it would be smart to bring in a few hired guns, that’s all.”
She grinned as she patted his shoulder. “Then convince the big guy.”
“I’d have a better chance of strapping a propeller to my ass and flying to China.” He growled in his throat as he stepped around her. “Maybe you could talk some sense into him?”
She shook her head. “He knows what he’s doing.”
Gregg stared at her a moment. “You willing to bet your life on that?”
She seemed to ponder the thought then nodded. “Yes.”
Langley Virginia
* * *
“I could have told you that,” Ingram scoffed as he stared at the map. “If Bridger knows somebody is coming for him, he’ll want to be on familiar ground.”
Jameson nodded slowly. “His place is rather…fortified.” He rocked slightly side to side as he studied the overhead satellite view. “Were you able to track down any previous operators that Bridger might be beholden to?”
Ingram sighed as he fell into the chair opposite. “No luck. You?”
Jameson continued to study the overhead view and nodded slightly. “One possibility.”
“Possibility?”
He nodded then turned to face him. “Their working relationship was tenuous at best, but Bridger had reportedly saved his life, so…there’s a certain life debt that is owed.”
Ingram raised a brow. “And do you think that your boy will allow him to repay that debt during this exercise?”
Jameson shook his head slightly. “We’ve been monitoring their communications and he hasn’t even alerted his coworkers to this impending threat.” He sighed animatedly and shrugged. “Who can tell how this man’s mind works.”
Ingram sat forward and gave him a knowing look. “What’s your play? Are you going to attempt the contact?”
Jameson sighed again and looked back at the satellite views of both targets. “At this point, I’m not sure. If they are digging in and preparing for a fight, Bridger may not allow the contact. He might see it as a division of focus.”
“Then again, he might be willing to accept the assist if he thinks the odds are against him.”
Jameson scoffed. “I doubt that Mr. Bridger ever truly thinks the odds are against him.” He smiled as he pulled up Bridger’s dossier. “He either has the luck of the Irish on his side or…”
“Or what?”
Jameson’s smile widened. “Or he truly is as formidable as we hoped.”
Houston, TX
* * *
Mario Gomez stepped off of the plane and adjusted his white linen coat. Fernando stood by, his hand extended. “Your car waits.”
Mario nodded and stepped toward the blacked-out Range Rover. “Tell me, are our people ready?”
“They are collecting the weapons and recruiting others.” He held the door open like an oversized chauffeur. Once el jefe was safely inside he scrambled to climb behind the wheel of the SUV. “They are meeting us at the plaza in an hour.”
Mario nodded and pulled a cigar from his jacket pocket. “Who are they recruiting?”
Fernando glanced in the rear view mirror as he spoke, “Enforcers from our business partners here in the States. There are many organizations spread throughout the Southwest, and most are willing to fight to find favor with you, señor.”
Mario nodded as he lit the cigar. “How many are we looking at?”
Fernando gave a slight shake of the head. “I am expecting a hundred or more.” He glanced to the rear view again. “If we have time to wait, perhaps twice that.”
Mario raised a brow at him. “Of all of our business partners here, they can only supply a hundred men?”
“On quick notice, señor, si. They have their territories to protect while the enforcers are away. That’s why I said if we could give them time to rearrange their people, we could double the manpower.”
Mario sighed and leaned back in the car’s seat. “I would think they would send all of their people immediately. Our product is their livelihood.”
“Si, señor, but even they have competition. And if they will be going south to face Esmerelda and her cartel…”
Mario held a hand up to stop him. “Say no more.” He puffed on the cigar and stared out the window. “How long will it take them to double the men?”
“A day, señor? Maybe two?”
“The longer we wait, the more the gringos also reinforce their defenses. They can increase their numbers and...” He tapped nervously at the armrest. “But if we go in unprepared…”
Fernando pulled the SUV into a garage complex and began the drive to the roof. “As always, it is your call, Jefe. Your people will do as you say.”
“Do we know where they went?”
Fernando nodded and handed a slip of paper over the front seat. “From the air traffic people.”
Mario unfolded the paper and smiled. “As expected. He ran home.” He stuffed the paper into his jacket pocket and rolled the cigar as he puffed it. “I want eyes on his complex, twenty-four-seven.”
“Si, señor.” Fernando nodded. “I’ll see to it.”
“And the local police?”
He shook his head. “We have none here on our payrolls.”
Mario sucked at his teeth as he thought. “Then we will need a way to prevent them from responding.”
“I have people in place, señor. They have the equipment necessary to block their radios and phone calls.”
“Very well.” He closed his eyes and imagined having all of Bravo Team under his knife. “Soon enough, we will have our revenge.”
Fernando shot him a toothy grin. “Si, señor. It has been too long coming.”
33
South of Dallas, TX
* * *
“What the fuck?” DJ groaned as he stepped out of the SUV. “Are you serious?”
Laughlin dropped his bag and stared at the row of military style bunkers. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” He turned to Mauk. “He’s joking, right?”
Mauk held a hand up to stifle the comments. “I’ll talk to him.” He trotted towards Bridger, who was rifling through a ring of keys. “Hey, buddy. A word?”
Bridger turned and gave him a stern look. “What?”
“You, uh…” he chuckled. “You don’t expect us to make our last stand here, do you?”
“This is my home, David. I came for supplies.”
Mauk’s shoulders slumped visibly. “Oh, thank god. I thought you expected us to defend this…” He cleared his throat nervously. “This FINE example of efficiency and—”
“Can it.” Bridger held a key up and slipped it into the steel main entry door. “And for the record, me and a handful of real operators held off the federal fucking government here at this fine example of whatever you were going to say.” He raised a brow at him. “If you think Mario has more resources than the CIA and NSA, think again.”
Mauk held his hands up in defense. “Sorry buddy. I just…” He glanced at the others lingering near the SUV, their eyes studying him. “This is a shooting gallery, pal. Limited entrance and egress…”
Bridger laughed as he pushed the heavy steel door open. “If you think this is limited, just wait until you see what I have in mind.”
Mauk’s face fell and he felt the blood drain to his feet. “Oh, come on, man.” He fell into step behind him, pausing for a moment to take in the huge interior spaces. “Wow…”
/> “Steel reinforced concrete. Blast doors with hermetic seals for the underground tunnels that connect the three main units.” Bridger tossed a duffel onto the sawhorse workbench and began to stuff weapons, explosives and other equipment into the bag. “There’s a concrete sniper’s nest at the top of the middle unit and…” He paused and stared at him then shook his head. “Why am I bothering? I already lost one home to a firefight. No way I’m risking this one.”
Mauk slid his hand across the wall and felt the freshly patched bullet holes. “Nice repair work, but…” He glanced around the room. “How many did you fend off?”
“Too many.” He grabbed another duffle and began loading it. “Don’t just stand there. Grab some ammo.” He hooked his head toward the far wall and Mauk gave him a surprised look.
“Uh…what calibers?” he asked as he stared at the stacks of green and black military ammo cans.
“All of them.” He marched to the front door and set the bags on the stoop. “DJ! Load em up.”
DJ trotted to the door and nodded to him. “If we’re not setting up defenses here, may I ask where the hell we are going?”
“East,” Bridger grunted. “Middle of nowhere.”
DJ gave him an expectant look. “Care to add anything to that?”
Bridger gave him a knowing stare. “Far enough away that they can’t hurt innocent civilians.”
DJ hefted the duffels. “And you’re sure they’ll follow?”
Bridger leaned to the side and peered past his shoulder. Just outside of eye range he caught the flash of sunlight on something reflective. “Oh, they’ll follow.” He gave him an evil grin. “And they have no idea the shit they’re about to step in.”
Langley Virginia
* * *
Jameson hung up his phone and fought the urge to curse. He looked up and met Ingram’s gaze. “He won’t do it.”
Burning Bridges Page 21
