Cheyenne McCray - Point Blank (Lawmen Book 4)

by Unknown

  To the right, a movement in the dim room brought her up short. Her stomach clenched. She counted at least five men standing in the near darkness. Men with guns of all sizes.

  She lowered the Sig and tried to make herself smaller and slow her now rapid breathing. This would all end with her death. She would kill Mark and then his men would shoot her.

  “I’ve had you up and down for days.” Mark smiled a sickly evil smile as he spoke to Francis. “You don’t know how you’re going to die or if you will live.”

  “You’re going to kill me…” Francis’s words came out slow and uneven, and resigned. “You’ll never let me live.”

  Mark shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not.” Her stomach churned as he walked to a selection of tools. “I have enjoyed our talks, Francis.” Mark chose a pair of pruning shears. “Now I think it’s time you lose the rest of your fingers.”

  “No, God no.” The man wailed, tears flowing from his eyes over his forehead, followed by snot, as Mark gave him a slow smile that could only have been described as evil. “Don’t cut off my fingers. Just kill me.”

  Mark started to walk toward Francis.

  Click, click, click. The sound came from behind Natasha, like high heels on concrete. Natasha’s stomach dropped. She pressed her back against the wall where she crouched and looked up.

  A gorgeous woman in flowing cream slacks and a matching jacket strode through the door and onto the landing of the concrete stairs, a foot from Natasha. She had what must have been a $3,000 Versace shoulder bag in a pale orange shade that went well with her cream outfit.

  She was beyond beautiful—no one word could describe the woman more than “stunning”. Her high cheekbones and exotic features made her look like a Greek goddess.

  Natasha had seen glimpses of her before. She always seemed to make herself scarce when Natasha was around.

  “Selena.” Mark laid the pruning shears down on an upturned paint can and went to the foot of the stairs. “My darling.”

  She arched perfectly shaped brows. “I did not know you had company.”

  He frowned. “Company?”

  The beautiful woman looked down at Natasha, who felt blood drain from her face. “Hello, Natasha.”

  Mark’s gaze cut toward Natasha’s former hiding place. His features turned livid. “So the bitch has come to me. That makes things much easier.”

  Selena spoke in a smooth voice as she looked back to Mark. “Did something happen?”

  His voice hardened. “Federal agents are searching my home now, thanks to her. Even though they won’t find anything there, they will come to my warehouse.”

  Selena cocked her head. “What agents?”

  “ICE.” Mark’s face darkened as he bit out the word. “Just found out she’s been fucking one of the agents. I had her home bugged over the weekend while she was in L.A. This morning I learned about the raid on my home. All they were waiting for was a judge to sign off on a warrant. Earlier Pancho called and told me the raid had begun.”

  Natasha’s heart skipped a beat. He knows about Brooks. She slipped the gun into her purse, glad her right arm was still in the shadows.

  Fury screwed up Mark’s face and he pointed to Francis. “Thanks to that sniveling traitor, I still have inventory in the warehouse because he disclosed our last meet location. Otherwise the agents would find nothing.”

  Selena turned her gaze back on Natasha. She had a cool, unreadable expression.

  “Get up.” Mark shouted at Natasha, his complexion growing darker. When she didn’t move, he yelled so loud his voice echoed in the room. “Get the fuck up or I’ll have my men dump you into the acid with Francis.” He narrowed his gaze as he continued, “It’s sulfuric acid. It will not only burn and damage skin tissue, but it can expose and dissolve bones.”

  Ice froze Natasha’s veins and she rose slowly and stood. She felt the weight of the gun in her unzipped purse, just waiting for her to take out and shoot Mark when the opportunity came. God, she hoped it came.

  “That bitch has destroyed everything.” Mark ground out the words. “I will lose all I’ve built and I’ll have to start over.” He gave Natasha such a poisonous look that she almost cringed. Instead she raised her chin. That was until he said, “I sent the order to have your friend, Gary Orson, killed after I heard the conversation with the agent you’re screwing.” He had a maniacal look as he added, “I got the call a little while ago from one of my men. Your friend is dead.”

  The feeling of devastation and horror that swept through her made her head spin. She stared at him, unable to accept what he’d said. “You’re lying. You want to scare me.”

  “Orson is dead all right.” He gave an evil smile as he went on. “As far as the fucking agents, we’ll be safe as long as we stay hidden in the boiler room. They will never find the hidden doors.”

  “Someone left the office’s paneled door open, which no doubt is how Natasha got in.” Selena kept her voice low. “I closed it when I came through.”

  Apparently Mark hadn’t stopped to think how Natasha got in. Maybe he’d been having too much “fun” with Francis.

  Mark cut his gaze to the men lined up in the darker part of the room, his expression furious. “Who the fuck left the door open?”

  Two of the men shifted their stances, but no one answered.

  Mark scowled and whipped his attention back to Natasha, who felt like the earth was tilting from the news about Gary. “Come here. I have something special planned for you.”

  CHAPTER 24

  “Nothing.” Brooks stood in Okle’s home office and clenched his hands into fists before attempting to relax them to avoid showing how pissed off he was. Although it was no doubt clear in his words and his expression. “Not one goddamned thing here to tie Okle to the Jimenez Cartel.”

  Trace scanned the room. “We may not be able to prove his ties to the cartel, but we’ve got him one way or another.”

  “We need more to make this case as tight as possible.” Brooks ground out the words. “I want the cartel. I want Rodrigo Jimenez.” No doubt existed in Brooks’s mind—El Verdugo and his cartel were at the root of it all.

  “We’ll get Jimenez. It will happen. It’s just a matter of when.” Trace dragged his hand down his face. “It’s possible Okle has a hidden safe in his home office like Salvatore Reyes did, or he might have one somewhere else in the house or in his warehouse office.”

  “Agents will be combing every inch of this place.” Brooks nodded. “In the meantime, we’ll go to Okle’s warehouse and see what we can find.”

  Brooks and Trace fell into step as they headed out of the residence.

  Trace’s expression was tight. “I want to get that sonofabitch by the balls. If it hadn’t been for you, Christie could have died because of Okle. I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”

  “I already told Christie that her sour cream enchiladas and red velvet cake would make us even,” Brooks said.

  Trace shook his head, but Brooks had made his friend smile. “My wife does make the best of both.”

  Brooks managed a smile, too. “Damn straight she does.”

  When they were outside the house, Brooks watched the activity going on around him. “We’ll leave a team here. Maybe we should have started at the warehouse.”

  “We still have the recordings and other intelligence we’ve gathered,” Trace reminded Brooks. “We have plenty to put him away.”

  “I’d prefer to see him six feet under,” Brooks said.

  Trace nodded. “You and me both.”

  Brooks reached Sofia by phone. She told him she would handle arrangements when it came to searching Okle’s residence and gave him additional instructions for the raid on the warehouse.

  When Brooks was off the phone with Sofia, it wasn’t long before he and a team were headed toward the warehouse. The team included Landon and Dylan, who also would like nothing more than to see the end of the Jimenez Cartel.

  Trace drove his truck and Brooks rode in the pas
senger seat as their vehicle led the team. Dylan and Landon traveled in the vehicle behind them, with more agents following in larger vehicles.

  Brooks’s phone vibrated. He removed it from its holster and checked the display. Jase Wright.

  “Is Natasha at work?” Brooks asked Jase when he connected the call.

  “Her car was gone when I arrived,” Jase said. “I’m at her store now, but it’s locked. I tried to look through the windows, but it’s dark inside.”

  Brooks’s skin prickled. “Maybe she’s working on something in the back.”

  “I’ll go to the rear of the building and see if she’ll answer the back door,” Jase said.

  “If she doesn’t answer, go in anyway.” The bad feeling from earlier washed over Brooks and he didn’t care if he was instructing the agent to break and enter. He considered the situation a matter of life or death. “Call me as soon as you talk to her.”

  “Will do.” Jase ended the call.

  Brooks felt as though spiders crawled over his body. He had to shake it off. He was a professional and Natasha was fine.

  She had to be.

  They were almost to the warehouse when this time Trace’s cell hummed. He drew it out and glanced at the screen. “Blocked call,” he murmured. He answered the phone with, “This is Agent Davidson.”

  Brooks turned to look at Trace, who frowned as he listened to whoever was on the other end of the line.

  “Is everyone all right?” Trace had a rough note in his voice before his shoulders sagged, a look of relief flashing across his features. “Thanks, Joe. I owe you one.”

  Trace disconnected the call and went on. “Hell, I think I owe everyone.” When he’d holstered his phone, Trace met Brooks’s gaze. “You know that Joe Black has had a team of men watching Natasha and Christie’s grandparents’ home.” Brooks nodded and Trace continued. “Two men just tried to go into their home, carrying handguns with silencers. Joe’s men stopped the bastards. I’m not sure what Joe’s guys did with the bodies, and I’m not going to ask.”

  Brooks felt as if his skin was growing tighter. “Okle ordering a hit on the grandparents is a bad sign—a real bad sign.”

  Trace hit a speed dial number, his features tense. “I’m checking up on Christie.”

  Brooks was tempted to do the same with Natasha, but Jase would call if there was a problem. He prayed everything was fine. She’d been upset and tired, a rough combination.

  He hoped she’d decide to stay home. But if he knew her like he thought he did, she’d go into work sometime today, no matter how many things bothered her.

  Trace was off the phone in a matter of moments. He told Brooks that Christie was fine, but two of Okle’s men had the resort staked out where the agent who served as her double was staying to throw off Okle.

  The warehouse came into view and Brooks narrowed his gaze. His instincts told him they’d find something here. Hopefully it was enough to put Okle away for a long time.

  When they reached the warehouse, Trace parked his truck just down the street, as did the other agents. The team of agents, including Trace and Brooks, still had on their gear, including the ballistic vests they’d worn during the raid on Okle’s residence.

  Once they had gathered and were ready to go, it wasn’t long before they had the warehouse entrances and exits covered on all four sides.

  Trace and Brooks, along with other agents, took the front entrance, including Landon and Dylan. Each agent held his or her weapon in a two-handed grip, ready for whatever might lay beyond that door once it was opened.

  A surge of adrenaline rushed through Brooks. Okle was here—he knew it with every fiber of his being. The bastard was in the warehouse and they were going to get him.

  Brooks’s phone vibrated just as he raised his foot to kick in the door. He couldn’t stop to check the call, which was instantly put out of his mind as he carried through with his kick, jamming his boot against the door.

  It slammed open.

  Brooks and the other agents shouted, “Police!”

  When they were certain they weren’t facing any potential threats, agents flowed into the warehouse. In moments they had the immediate area cleared. The continued, calling out “Clear,” for every section they searched. When the agents had finished, they found the place empty of people, including Okle.

  ~~*~~

  Natasha startled as a phone’s ring cut through the pause that had followed Mark’s order for her to go to him. Mark dug in his pocket, pulled out his cell, and answered it.

  “What do you have on the agents, Pancho?” Mark listened a moment, stiffened, and then shoved his phone back into his slacks’ pocket. “They’re already inside the warehouse.”

  Natasha’s heart leapt. She might live through this after all.

  If they found the hidden door. A second one must be in the boiler room because Mark had used the plural, doors.

  “Do you still have the monitors set up?” Selena’s voice remained calm, as if the announcement was of no concern.

  Mark rubbed the bald spot on the top of his head. “I didn’t get a chance to update the technology like I wanted to, but at least two of the old monitors work.”

  “Let’s watch what we can.” She turned her attention to Natasha, and touched her wrist. “I think you should join us.” Natasha jerked her hand away, but Selena grabbed her upper arm and squeezed. “You don’t want to fight me.”

  By the chill in the woman’s voice, Natasha knew she wasn’t bluffing.

  Natasha walked down the concrete stairs. When they reached the bottom floor, Mark swung his arm and backhanded her.

  The blow came so swiftly that it caught Natasha by surprise. An explosion of light erupted in her mind as pain burst through her head. She stumbled backward but didn’t fall because Selena had a tight grip on her arm.

  “I’ll take care of you soon enough,” he snarled at Natasha before turning away.

  He strode to a corner and Selena pulled Natasha along behind him. He flipped a switch on the wall and another dim light illuminated an area with a bank of boxy monitors along with an old Compaq computer, all covered with dust. The technology must have been built in the late 80’s.

  Mark bent and turned on the computer, which took several moments to boot up. Two of five monitors came to life with grainy black and white images showing men and women searching the warehouse—the parts of the building visible on the two monitors. Even though the monitors were fuzzy, it was still clear the men and women in the feed were agents and had their guns drawn. With the pictures so grainy, it was almost impossible to read the block letters across the backs of their jackets.

  Natasha caught her breath as she saw an image of two men. She knew them so well that she was positive they could only be Brooks and Trace.

  Mark turned his gaze on Natasha. “Good to see your cousin’s husband and the agent you’ve been fucking are here. It will save me time because I won’t have to send my men after them.” His smile turned purely evil. “I’ve already put hits out on the rest of your family. By now your grandparents and cousin should be dead.”

  Natasha felt like her head was going to spin off and she would drop to her knees. Selena gripped her arm tighter, digging her nails in. “Keep it together, Natasha.”

  The way the woman said it gave Natasha pause. Maybe the woman didn’t want Natasha to end up like that man hanging over the acid.

  “I’ll take a team upstairs.” Selena pointed to a screen. “No one is near that camera, which is close to the hidden door on that side of the building. We’ll take care of the agents and then we can get the hell out of here before more come.”

  “My love.” Mark went to her and smiled. He brushed his lips over hers. “Be careful.”

  “Of course.” She opened her Versace purse and withdrew a Beretta 9mm. Natasha recognized it from when her uncle had taught her to shoot his, in addition to the Sig. Selena gave a nod in Natasha’s direction. “It is probably not a good idea to damage the goods if we need he
r as a hostage.”

  “They would take her regardless, if it came to that.” Mark cut his gaze to Natasha and his expression chilled her to her marrow. “While you are destroying the filth upstairs, my darling Selena, I will be enjoying my time with this bitch. I will make her suffer before they get their hands on her.”

  Selena said nothing and turned away, leaving in the opposite direction from where she had made her entrance. She disappeared behind black pipes and ancient machinery. All but one of the men followed her.

  Natasha set her jaw as Mark turned his attention to her.

  Instead of the prickle of fear, Natasha grew angrier and angrier. “You are an evil bastard, Mark. You tricked me, used me, and now you’re going to make me suffer for your crimes. But I’ll tell you this. One way or another, you will pay.”

  Mark glared at her. “Shut the fuck up or I lower you feet first into the acid right now. You’ll live long enough to feel the most excruciating pain of your life.” He nodded to the one man who had stayed behind. “Come here and watch her.”

  The man pointed what looked like an automatic weapon at her as he stood between her and the barrel of acid.

  Blood drained from her face, leaving cold where there had been heat. She could be killed by bullets or eaten alive by the sulfuric acid. If she went feet first into it like Mark had threatened, she would feel every agonizing moment of her oncoming death. Bullets would be better.

  She clamped her jaws tight but she was certain she couldn’t keep the hatred out of her gaze as she glared at Mark.

  He stared at her for a long moment before he smiled and leaned down to pick up the pruning shears he had left on the upturned paint can. “First Francis needs to lose a few fingers. Then I’ll start on yours.”

  She felt sick to her stomach at the thought of losing her fingers in such a horrible way. But losing her family would be far worse than any pain she would experience at Mark’s hands.

  Mark gripped the shears and walked toward Francis who flailed and screamed as if already being subjected to more mutilation.