When they reached San Justino, Boomer drove them through the open iron gate of an adobe wall into a good-sized compound. About a dozen children were playing in a courtyard while several adults were doing assorted chores in and around seven rustic buildings of varying sizes, a large garden, and a water tower. Jordyn took in their surroundings. “Where are we?”
“A mission,” Carter responded. “Years ago, I helped out Dr. Ramona Sanchez who runs the place; she’s remained a contact down here ever since. There are missionaries coming and going from here all the time so extra people from the states won’t really stand out. She also has several armed guards who live here or nearby, so weapons are commonplace, too. Ramona’s not a fan of guns, but she’s smart and knows the clinic can be a target for the drugs and supplies.”
Boomer parked next to one of the smaller structures, and everyone climbed out of the vehicle. A little boy, about seven years old, came running over as Boomer and Marco entered the building, leaving the other two standing there, stretching. “Señor Carter! Señor Carter!”
He ran into the spy’s arms, and Carter picked him up then spun him around. “Hola, Mateo. ¿Cómo estás, mi amiguito?”
“Muy bien, gracias.”
Smiling, Jordyn watched as Carter interacted with his little “chum” who began to tell him all about the snake he’d found this morning. A skinny, gray-haired, Caucasian woman in her sixties approached and said in a New York accent, “Carter, it’s about time your sorry ass showed up.”
Putting the boy down, he drew her into a hug. “Another member of the opposite sex who likes to reference my fine ass when she greets me. How are you, Ramona?”
“Good, as always.” Stepping back, she placed her hands on her hips and glared at him, but her smile said she wasn’t mad. “You going to tell me what has the troops descending on my little camp here, or am I better off not knowing?”
“Better off not knowing.” Carter gestured to Jordyn. “This is Jordyn Alvarez. Jordyn, this gorgeous creature is Dr. Ramona Sanchez.”
The older woman rolled her eyes as she shook Jordyn’s hand. “He’s a crock of shit, isn’t he?”
Jordyn laughed. “It’s nice to meet you, Doctor Sanchez.”
“Oh, none of that Doctor Sanchez crap. Please, call me Ramona. And it’s a pleasure to meet you too. Now that the niceties are out of the way, dinner will be ready in about thirty minutes, and I’m sure you want to meet up with the rest of your gang. They’re all in the classroom.” She pointed to the small building Boomer and Marco had disappeared into, then took the hand of the little boy who was still babbling to his apparent hero. “Come, Mateo, you’ll see Señor Carter at cena and you can talk his ear off then.”
As Mateo reluctantly waved goodbye, Carter and Jordyn strode into the one-room schoolhouse. Ian, Mic, Brody, Marco, and Boomer were scattered about the room, their gazes on maps, papers, or computers. The sound of one of the mission’s generators hummed from behind the building. Maps of the Diaz compound and surrounding areas were pinned to the wall, along with other intel.
Carter shook hands with Brody and Ian, then turned to Mic. Before he could say anything, she gave him a pissed-off glower. “If you even think of asking me how I’m handling being in this shithole of a country, I’ll kick your ass. Understood?”
He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Understood, Mistress Bea.”
Behind him, Jordyn must have given Mic a questioning look, because the small, but mighty woman laughed at her. “No, I’m not a Domme, but I fucking played one on TV. And before you ask, I’m not a sub either.”
Ian clapped his hands together. “Now that we’ve established that can we get back to fucking business?” He grinned at Mic. “And I still don’t believe you’re not a Domme. I can totally see you flogging CJ into submission.”
As the woman gave Ian the finger, Carter grabbed the back of a rudimentary, wooden chair, spun it around, and straddled it. “Hit it.”
“Hit what? We’ve got shit.” The head of Trident Security crossed his arms over his hard chest. “If we don’t get some intel soon, we’re going to be flying blind. Word is there’s been some upgrades to the Diaz compound since Ernesto was running it. Dev reported there’s now a heliport and some new features to the front entrance and the pool area out back. Canopies and additional landscaping are making it harder for them to get eyes on those areas. And that’s just the stuff we can see. Who knows what else has been added for security. I told Mic’s boys to offer up everything except a ride to the moon on the Virgin Galactic. Hopefully, the promise of mucho dinero or a green card will get someone to open their mouth. I’ll let your boss figure out the logistics.
“He’ll be fucking thrilled.”
Ian smirked. “Sarcasm gets you nowhere down here, my friend. What we do know is Emmanuel is throwing some sort of party in three days. It’s all hush-hush and invite only.”
From where she’d been studying the map of the compound, Jordyn looked over her shoulder at them. “Arms, drugs, or slavery?”
“Your guess is as good as ours,” Ian answered. “While the drugs never waned, Emmanuel’s been trying to reestablish the other two businesses, which took big hits when his brother was killed. Ernesto had been running them without much involvement from Emmanuel.”
Carter stood again. “So what do you want to do, Boss-man? Wait a day or two, see if we can find some loose lips?”
“I don’t see that we have a choice. There’s too many new variables.”
He eyed Mic. “You okay with that?”
Nodding, she answered, “I agree with Ian. None of us want to be down here longer than necessary, but hitting the place without more intel will be a crapshoot. My team is good with waiting.”
His gaze found the third person he wanted input from. Carter arched his brow. “Jordyn?”
“My two cents are the same as theirs,” she replied without hesitation.
“All right. We wait.”
* * *
Ian disconnected his cell phone call and faced the rest of the room. “That was Marco. He and Rook are bringing in a source. Looks like we finally lucked out.”
It’d been over fifty hours since Carter and Jordyn had touched down in Colombia, and everyone had been taking shifts watching the Diaz compound, searching for intel, and strategizing a raid based on what little info they had. Carter’s day had just gotten a little better for the second time. Earlier, he’d spoken to Vicki and Joe who’d told him the transplant surgery had gone through without a hitch, and Justin would be in the post-operative ICU for several days to be monitored for infection or organ rejection. Jake and Foster had also reported all was well with their respective charges.
Across the room, Jones glanced at his watch. “You’ll have to fill us in later. We’re heading out to relieve the others.” He’d be joined by Devon and Boomer for the next eight hours in the shadows around their target’s compound. Lindsey, Flynn, and CJ would crash in the bunkhouse as soon as they got back to the mission to rest up for whenever the rest of them could throw together a plan of attack.
Ian pointed to Carter and Mic. “You two have the best experience with interrogation—not that I expect you to torture him from the get-go. You’ll be able to read this guy better than the rest of us. If he’s telling the truth, we can start planning. If he’s not, feel free to do whatever’s needed to get him to squeal. We’ve got to end this soon before we die of malaria or something from all these damn mosquitos.”
To prove his point, he smacked his neck, killing another little bloodsucker. They’d all started taking the medication Ramona had given them to protect against the disease, but it was best if the daily pills were started prior to arrival in the country, which they hadn’t had time for. Carter had told everyone to keep track of what supplies they’d taken from the mission’s coffers and he would replace them ten-fold, as he usually did after visiting Ramona. The clinic and school she ran here were the only source of medical care and education most people in the area had acc
ess to.
Mic grabbed a wooden chair and placed it on the opposite side of the room from where all the maps and papers were up on the wall. She spun it around to face away from them. “Pierce, can you see if Ramona has some sort of privacy screen we can borrow from the clinic. No sense in letting this guy see what we know so far.”
“Copy that.” The big man strode out the door with little Mateo on his heels. The boy was now in awe of all the members of the team and, instead of playing outside with his friends, had been helping out in any way he could. They’d been giving him small chores to do and rewarding him with a few pesos or pieces of candy. Ramona had cautioned them against giving him or any of the other children larger amounts of money as it would make the young ones targets if any of the less scrupulous men from the local village found out.
Shortly after, Pierce came back with a wicker, tri-fold screen and set it in place, the SUV Marco and Rook had taken pulled up to the schoolhouse and the engine turned off. They led a short, blindfolded man into the room and sat him in the chair Carter had pointed at. Rook pulled off the blindfold then stepped away. The man blinked several times until his eyes adjusted to the light in the room.
Carter and Mic stood in front of him. The Deimos spy crossed his arms as he spoke. “¿Habla usted inglés?”
The man nodded. “Si. Yes.”
“What’s your name?”
“Carlos Palencia.”
“You work at the Diaz casa?”
“Si, en la cocina.”
The kitchen was perfect because the man would have more knowledge about the interior than a gardener or chauffer. “Tell me about this party Señor Diaz is throwing tomorrow night.”
The Colombian’s gaze shifted from Carter to Marco, who was standing nearby. The Trident operative nodded. “I told you—answer all his questions, and you’ll get your money and green card. Just make sure it’s the truth. You lie to him, he’ll probably stake you to the ground and let the ratas and buitres eat you alive.”
As the man’s eyes widened, Carter and Mic tried to hide their smirks. Marco’s statement about feeding the man to rats and vultures was a little dramatic, but it had the desired effect. Every question Carter asked from that point on was answered. He started off with simple questions that could be verified by the intel they’d already gathered—just to make sure this guy wasn’t stringing them along. After that he moved on to what they didn’t know about the current details of the compound and its occupants. Some of it they were able to pass onto Jones, Dev, and Boomer to check out from their covert locations.
The “party” was as bad as they’d expected. It wasn’t a party at all, instead an auction of captive women who had been kidnapped from various Caribbean islands, Central America, and even the US. They were probably all in their teens and early twenties, and were being sold into slavery to sexual deviants who would eventually kill them after they did despicable things to them.
It was after midnight by the time they finished. After getting as much intel as possible, Carter had given the man five hundred American dollars and told him to report to the Diaz compound at his usual time of 6:00 a.m. After they had his boss, they’d fly Palencia out of Colombia in the Trident jet and let him loose in the states with some cash and a green card. If he didn’t show up for work tomorrow, though, it would raise a red flag—something they didn’t want happening hours before the raid.
The team had decided to wait until the women were brought to the compound so they could also stage a rescue if possible. According to their new intel, the captives were being held off-site until a few hours before the auction, at which time they’d be placed in cells in the basement of the huge villa. The escape tunnel the operatives were planning on sneaking in through, would put them in the same area where the women would be held.
Sitting on the bench of a splintering picnic table, outside under the stars, Carter was running all the intel through his mind once more, looking for holes or anything that may cause a problem during the raid. There were a few undefined variables, but they were minor and could be worked around on the fly. They knew how many guards were expected on-site, and the rotating teams watching the compound had the guards’ schedules down pat. Most of the household staff would be gone before the women arrived at the compound, with the exception of four people who would be serving food and drink to the guests—otherwise known as the deviant perverts.
“You need to get some sleep.”
A stirring in his groin and a fluttering in his heart had told him Jordyn was behind him before he heard her. Without looking, he reached back and, when she took his hand, pulled her to stand in front of him, between his knees. He wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her tightly and resting his head on her breasts. “I know this isn’t the right time, but have you made a decision yet?”
He felt her swallow hard as her hands stroked the hair lying untied down his back. “I have.”
Lifting his head, his eyes met hers. “And?”
“I’m scared shitless—not a common thing for me—but I honestly don’t think I can walk away from you once this is all over. I’ve done some more research on my downtime the past few days. I also had a talk with Polo yesterday.”
“Really?” DeAngelis hadn’t mentioned it to him, but the man was the most sought-after Dom at The Covenant. The subs were always going to him for comfort and advice. He had an innate gift for listening and saying the right thing to help them figure out what they were searching for. So it wasn’t surprising Jordyn had approached and opened up to him about her feelings after she’d learned the Trident Alpha Team were all in the lifestyle.
“Yes, really. Did you mean what you said about easing into a Dom/sub relationship and finding a middle ground we’re both comfortable with? I don’t know how my limit list would compare to yours, but there are things I don’t think I can do. And if we work together, I need to know you’re not going to go into Dom mode on a mission. I’ve worked hard to get where I am. I need to be your equal out in the world, even if I submit to you in the bedroom.”
He smiled. “When we get back to Montana, after this is all over, we’ll sit down and go over everything. I trained you, love, and respect the amazing operative you’ve become. I’ll always ask your opinion on a mission. But if I have to, I’ll be diving in front of a bullet for you any day of the week. That’s got nothing to do with you being a submissive and everything to do with the fact I’ve fallen in love with you. Hell, I think that happened the moment I found out you picked my wallet without me knowing it.”
“I think I fell in love with you when you laughed about it.” She leaned down and placed a quick kiss on his lips before smirking. “You realize, though, now you have to tell me your real name. I can’t be in a relationship with you and only know your first name starts with a ‘T.’”
He gave her a playful glare. “I don’t know about that.”
Her brow inched upward. “Hmm. Then maybe I’ll have to rethink my decision.”
“Fine,” he huffed. His mouth went to her ear and he whispered the dreaded name.
Jordyn gaped at him. “Really?”
He rolled his eyes. “Really. Repeat it and I’ll be spanking your ass every night for the next five years.”
Chapter 21
As nightfall approached again, everyone had their assignments. Carter, Jordyn, Brody, Mic, and Rook were going to be sneaking in through an escape tunnel Ernesto Diaz had put under the compound years ago. It led to the basement of the huge thirty-room, three-story estate—opulence that had been built with the blood and souls of others. Drugs, white slavery, arms dealing, and every other illegal product, were the core of the Diaz fortune. Emmanuel had added new features to the compound after his brother’s death which included a heliport, a panic room, and landscaping that ensured he could sit out by the Olympic-sized swimming pool without worrying about a bullet piercing his brain. He’d learned from the mistakes of other cartel leaders and adjusted his life according to their failures—but that didn’t
mean he wasn’t still vulnerable. The team just had to find and exploit those vulnerabilities.
If any of the five going inside gave Ian the signal they had trouble, Boomer, Pierce, and Flynn would set off explosives, blowing holes into the stone wall surrounding the compound. That would send the guards running right into the line of fire. Between the two snipers and other operatives stationed around the outskirts of the property, they would cause enough chaos for Carter’s team to snatch Ernesto and get the hell out of there. They had to use caution so the hired help, Emmanuel’s wife and children, and any other innocents weren’t injured or killed in the attack. And, hopefully, they’d be able to rescue the women who were scheduled to be sold tonight.
While Jordyn’s sniper skills were on par with, if not exceeding, the other two trained shots, Carter needed her eyes and ears inside with him. If there were any connections to be found to Deimos in there, he and Jordyn would recognize it before anyone else. He also needed her cat burglary skills to get them inside quietly.
Using their connections, the teams had acquired the several SUVs they needed, but everything else—explosives, ammo, night vision goggles, and other gear had been flown in under the radar by Steel and Trident. Armed to the teeth, dressed entirely in black, and faces darkened with paint, they loaded up into the vehicles and drove to a spot that had been vetted earlier. It was a rarely used dirt road about a three-quarters of a mile through the woods from the compound. Apparently, since the addition of the panic room and heliport, Diaz had decided he didn’t need to maintain the escape tunnel his brother had relied on so it was a near-perfect point of entry. He may have learned things from others’ failures, but like most men high on their own power, he’d become complacent in some areas.
Once the vehicles were hidden under camouflage netting, the teams disappeared into the foliage, heading for their assigned positions surrounding the compound. One of Dr. Sanchez’s guards, Rich Parsons, was ex-special forces from Canada and had volunteered his services. The plan was to release the captives, send them down the tunnel, and he would get them to safety. Parsons had followed the SUVs in the mission’s unmarked van so he would have room for all of them.
Absolving His Sins: Trident Security Book 7 Page 21
