The Alex Troutt Thrillers: Books 4-6 (Redemption Thriller Series Box Set Book 2)

by John W. Mefford

  I had to leave the room to keep from smacking him across the face. The shootings, Teresa’s death, even the kidnapping of that college boy that Archie was investigating, were all tied together. Dad had known it, or at least suspected it. He could have at least gone to the authorities sooner, before blood coated Port Isabel. He could have come to me. He said his pride got in the way. I told him, “Dad, you can’t give me that valiant pride bullshit. It was simply one thing: greed.”

  I felt a nudge from my partner. “The lights.”

  I focused my vision outside the window and watched the top of the tower flash three times. That signaled the start of another drug-running cycle, according to my dad. But tonight, it also initiated a “go” on Nick’s mission.

  Just then, Raul’s undercover agent entered the room, moving at a fast clip. Mario tapped his arm. “Chop, chop, team. We’ve got thirty minutes to reach the exchange location.”

  I held my gaze for an extra second. While we’d spoken on the phone briefly earlier, this was our first time seeing each other without me believing he was a member of a drug cartel.

  “You don’t mess around,” I said.

  “Can’t. Not in my line of work.” He stopped and eyed me up and down, then gave me a brief smile.

  I turned back to Nick. “Do you have your Thaddeus Spencer ID on you?”

  He padded his back pocket.

  “And of course the two million in cash.”

  He pointed down at the bag Raul had provided, one that had a GPS chip embedded in the material. It connected to an application that we all had downloaded earlier, which gave us the location of the bag to within about a hundred feet.

  “Hopefully, the GPS won’t let us down,” Raul said. “Or they won’t switch the money to a different bag.”

  Mario took a step toward all of us. “Screw the money. We have to make this exchange cleanly so we can get that kid back. Bolivar worked him over again today, and Kyle is in bad shape.”

  “And do we honestly think Bolivar will turn him over?” Nick asked.

  “Given my knowledge of Bolivar, there are two million and one reasons. You know about the first two million in that bag. The last one has to do with his boss. Whenever Boss Man speaks, Bolivar jumps.”

  Everyone nodded.

  One of the main goals of this operation was to expose and take down the man at the top of the org chart. But Mario had yet to hear Ricardo Bolivar provide a name, referencing him only as “the boss” or “boss man.”

  Raul and I agreed to keep comm lines open and to update each other as events took place throughout the night. The three of us left the office, Mario and Nick in the Jeep, and me in my rented Camry. Once Mario texted his drug-dealing buddy that he had Thaddeus, he was supposed to receive an updated exchange location. I gave them a two-minute start and followed their whereabouts on my phone.

  Oddly, we didn’t go very far at all. I watched the blip on my app travel about four miles down the road. As I ran through a yellow light to stay close, I knew they had entered the parking lot of a supersized Walmart. Did they really want to execute this exchange in public?

  I watched the app on my phone and saw that the Jeep went behind Walmart, where there were other buildings. Then it came to a stop. I did the same in front of Walmart and changed the view on my app from a map to an overhead view, which showed actual images recently captured. Off a tree-covered, narrow road, there were a series of one-story industrial buildings. And then I remembered: those buildings had been there when I was a kid, prior to the construction of the Walmart strip center. There was a strong possibility the buildings were abandoned.

  I glanced down and saw the blip stop about three-quarters of the way down the narrow road. I tapped the Camry’s steering wheel, knowing I couldn’t just drive down that one entry point, but I also knew I couldn’t let Nick do this on his own. Mario was there, but he was supposedly undercover. Would he step in if things got rough, or would he hold back if he was outnumbered? I wasn’t about to let my partner get taken hostage, or worse.

  I accelerated out of my spot and circled the massive parking lot to reach the far side of the strip center, then parked there on the side, in the last designated space. I got out of the car and walked through the back parking lot, over a small retaining wall, and then through about a hundred feet of brush and trees that flanked the series of buildings for a good fifty feet or so. When I reached the back side of the industrial buildings, I found what I had hoped to find: a small walkway between buildings two and three. I pulled out my Glock and headed down the walkway, keeping my back to the building, flipping my head over my shoulder every few steps to ensure no one was sneaking up behind me. A few feet before the end, spears of light cut across the façade of the building opposite me, and I could hear voices.

  “I have your money. All of it is in here,” Nick said over the drone of car engines.

  “Throw it this way,” a man with a slight accent said.

  I heard Nick’s bag hit the ground.

  “Where is Kyle?”

  I heard some words in Spanish.

  “Dear God, Kyle…my son,” Nick said, playing the role of Kyle’s dad well.

  “Okay, Nick, just get him in the car and let’s get out of here,” I whispered to myself as I inched closer to the edge of the building, my pulse hammering in my neck. Leaning forward, I spotted the Jeep’s headlights. I heard the shuffling of shoes on gravel.

  “Is he even alive?”

  I held my breath, wondering what Nick had seen. Or not seen. Regardless, he knew our mission was to get that kid in the car and get the hell out of Dodge in quick order. But something seemed to have yanked that directive from his brain.

  “Fucking heathens.” Nick’s voice was softer.

  I shifted another step closer until I could see the entire Jeep, then Mario standing next to it, his eyes focused on something in front of him. I needed information. How many bad guys were there? What weapons did they have? I knew at one point in my life, Mario and I had a pretty good connection. We were like twins, even though we looked nothing alike. We could finish each other’s sentences and, at times, predict the other’s movements. I stared at Mario a few extra beats, and then…

  There! He shifted his eyes in my direction for a split second. He knew my position, but there was no way for him to communicate what I needed to know.

  A tremendous clang vibrated the wall behind my back, and I moved forward a few inches, afraid someone had spotted me.

  “I can’t take this anymore!” Another man screamed until his voice cracked.

  I could hear a piece of metal scrape against the pavement. Was this guy holding a shovel? And was he threatening Nick with it?

  “This fucking rich dick thinks he can just throw his money around and walk out of here and go back to his perfect life on his estate. Fuck him. I say we chop them up with the edge of this shovel blade and then let my pack of hunting dogs eat them for dinner.”

  Nick didn’t respond. No one did for a few seconds. I poked my head around and saw Mario staring straight ahead, his hands shoved in his pockets.

  “That is not the plan,” the first man with the slight accent said.

  “Fuck that!” the wild man roared. I then heard the shovel connecting with other metal objects. It was so loud I wanted to cover my ears. He yelled after each blow.

  “Stop!” the first man yelled, just as a man with crazy, wild-ass hair came into view. He was about to smash his shovel into Mario’s Jeep, but stopped with the tool over his head.

  With muscles bulging out from under his leather vest, he dwarfed Mario and his Jeep. But it was the hair that made him look like a monster.

  “Back off or I will have to dock you again,” said the first man, sounding calm but firm.

  Wild Hair tossed the shovel toward me; it clanged to a stop about ten feet from where I stood. Then he turned and walked back into the garage area. A moment later, Nick appeared with the kid’s arm draped over his shoulder. Blood was everywhere, t
he kid’s face an unrecognizable mess. He was barefoot, and his legs looked like they’d been run over by a lawnmower. Mario held the door open for Nick, but before he could get the kid in the back of the Jeep, the man in charge showed his face. It was Ricardo Bolivar. His hair was slicked back in a ponytail, and he was dressed in a dark suit with a small cape.

  “Mr. Spencer, you, and especially your son, know what we are capable of. If you lead the authorities back to us, I will let this dog loose,” he said, gesturing toward the man with the crazy hair, “and he will make your entire family pay in ways you can’t possibly imagine. Now get the fuck out of here!” He turned around and walked toward a number of laughing voices. Who knew how many he had in his crew?

  I watched Nick load Kyle into the back seat, and then they got into the car and pulled away.

  Phase One had been completed. But we were far from safe.

  ***

  After Mario and Nick had safely picked up Kyle and we had him airlifted to a military hospital in San Antonio, I waited in the DEA safe house for morning to arrive. Raul paced back and forth. I slurped down one energy drink after another. I felt like crap, and for a moment, I was actually envious of Nick’s healthy new rituals.

  I heard the echo of my slurp in an empty can. “You got any more of these Jumpstarts?” I asked, holding the can a few inches from my mouth.

  “Fridge is full of them,” he said.

  I could see the stress in his knuckles as he gripped his phone.

  “By the way, it’s called Kickstart.”

  “Whatever.” I crushed the can and set it on the table next to three others just like it. I could see my phone buzzing and jittering across the wooden table. It was Archie. When I asked where he was, he summoned me to room 215 at the motel with the blue roof off the main drag on the island.

  When I got there, the door was partially ajar. I drew my Glock and nudged the door open.

  “Howdy,” he said with a big grin on his face. But my eyes were drawn to his midsection. All I could think was…wow! Even in my beaten-down state, I could feel blood coursing through my veins at a faster clip. I quickly picked up the polyester bedcover and threw it over him. And then I looked at his face with the cheesy smile and perm hairdo, and my sex needle dropped like a brick.

  “First of all, how did you call me if you’re cuffed?”

  “Eh, do I have to tell you?”

  I hoped he wasn’t about to tell me he used another appendage. “Just tell me, dammit.”

  “I yelled for two hours straight, then finally a lady walked in. She was a…working girl, you might say. But she, uh…admired my package. So, I exchanged a phone call for—”

  “Stop right there, sir.” I turned away. “What the hell is going on anyway?”

  “It’s Cynthia. She cuffed me to this headboard after she had sex with me.”

  I turned around while squinting my eyes in disbelief. “You were able to close the deal with one of the prettiest young women in the Valley? And you’re trying to tell me you did it a second time with…” I couldn’t even finish the sentence.

  He nodded, once again showing me a toothy smile.

  “So your dream came true. Why call me?”

  “Well, I think Cynthia might have used me a bit.”

  I planted a hand on my hip. “How so?”

  “When we were doing our thing, I happened to share a bit of our plan.”

  “Which bit?”

  “Every?” He said this as more of a question. But the real question was whether I was just going to leave him in the motel cuffed to the bed.

  “Hey, I can see you’re pissed. I am too, despite my lucky night. Ha-ha.”

  I crossed my arms and pinched the bridge of my nose.

  “Alex, this is important. I’m not joking. Cynthia, I’ve learned, is a bit of a nut job.”

  “Again, you use the word ‘bit.’ How much is a bit this time.”

  “Not as much as the last time.”

  “Archie, your stupidity is confusing me.”

  “Okay, okay. Cynthia’s sister is the woman that the boys saw. You know, Trent and Ryan.”

  “So they are related?”

  He nodded. “Not just a sister, but a twin sister.”

  I pointed an accusatory finger at Archie. “Is Cynthia part of this crime ring too?”

  “No, but she’s definitely sharing the DNA. She told me she’s been working her sister for months, trying to convince her to wear a camera and get the inside scoop on Bolivar, the unknown leader of this outfit, the whole deal. But her sister wouldn’t do it. So, Cynthia essentially kidnapped her sister, made her tell her about the next rave at the party house tonight.”

  “So she had sex with you so she could get information for her story?”

  “Uh, I think so. After she cuffed me, I watched her put on a dress that made her look just like her sister, whose name is Luvina, by the way. I also watched her put this fake mole on her face. She was heading to the rave a couple of hours ago. We need to save her.”

  “Who needs saving?”

  He tugged on the cuffs. “Good point. Uncuff me first, then we need to make sure she’s safe.”

  I did the dirty deed and left him in the room, saying on my way out, “I’ll get ahold of Raul and see what he can do about Cynthia. He has men on the inside at the party.”

  Raul and I spoke before I made it to my car. He said he had no other choice than to send Mario to the party to ensure Cynthia’s safety. I made my way back to the DEA safe house. After another tense, two-hour wait, I changed into my workout clothes. As I headed out the door, Raul’s phone rang. It was Mario. He’d been in a car crash and was calling from the side of the road. Raul put his phone on speaker. “Bolivar had me drive his car, and he was in the back seat trying to rape Cynthia,” Mario said. “He’d caught on to her and was going to teach her a lesson. I couldn’t let him do it.”

  “I’m glad you’re okay,” I said.

  “Just a few cuts and bruises. Bolivar, on the other hand, is in bad shape. After the car stopped turning over, Cynthia used her spiked heel to kick him in the crotch repeatedly. I had to peel her off him. I think she might have a screw loose.”

  “That’s what Archie said.”

  ***

  Archie’s junk—of all the things to be stuck in my brain. I tied my shoes and then restarted my jog toward the levee about half a mile off in the distance, the glow of the morning sun casting an orange hue on a few thin clouds where the ocean met the horizon. I wore one of my jogging outfits, purple and gold the colors of choice. Earbuds were in my ears, and my phone was secured behind a vinyl case that was Velcroed to my arm. I looked like a normal early-morning jogger hoping to get in a good workout before the heat and humidity became too oppressive. I’d already passed a few joggers—three women and two men—all of them giving courteous nods. No one stood out or seemed the type to lead an international drug-smuggling and -distribution operation.

  Then again, I wasn’t sure what that person would look like.

  Dad had provided the general location of the drop, where money was left in some type of lobster cage hanging off the levee. We had no intel on who would be leaving the money, although the recipient was the big fish we were after: Boss Man.

  Another picture of Archie lying on the bed swooped through my mind as I noticed a jogger approaching me. He was middle-aged with a nice V-shaped physique. At the last second, he smiled and winked. I glanced back as he passed me. Had he been trying to flirt with me, even in my disheveled state?

  Worse things could happen.

  My phone buzzed with a text. I stopped, pulled it from the casing and read the group message from Gretchen:

  ALERT – voice recognition SW just came back with real identity of captain rex. Goes by rex ukrop, but real name is Reginald Yancy. Sportswriter in San Saba up to five years ago, then crossed border into Mexico and fell off scene. Just received intel back from Mexican police saying he was arrested once while in Mexico for cavorting with k
nown drug smugglers.

  I stopped reading. It all made sense. Captain Rex was practically a folk hero on the island. No one questioned his purpose, what he was really doing. Everyone, including me, just thought he was a little crazy for chasing after the location of the money from the Brinks robbery. He was supposedly writing a book, which obviously made him appear even less imposing.

  I caught a waft of pungent aftershave a tick before gorilla-sized hands clasped my arms. Then I could feel him press against my body from behind. “You…you have cost me a lot of money,” Yancy whispered in my ear.

  I tried to wiggle, but he had a death grip on me. I darted my eyes around, but no one was nearby.

  “I know your name, Yancy. You’re responsible for all of this violence, and the party house. You killed my friend!”

  “Shut your trap, bitch.” I could feel him pull back and shift his hairy face back and forth as he surveyed the area.

  “Your friend was one of my best money launderers. She, like so many others, like your dad and his addict girlfriend…they can’t get enough of the greenback. But Teresa started taking more than her cut, and I do not appreciate dishonest people in my business. No place for dishonesty in the business world.”

  I could hear his breathing cadence increase. He was worked up.

  “If you turn yourself in, share everything about your contacts, how you operated, we might be able to save you from the electric chair.”

  He removed a hand, and a second later, I felt the barrel of a pistol in my back. He jerked me away from the beach. “Walk to the parking lot. And if you start to run off, I’ll fill you with lead. You should be a nice bargaining chip as I make my escape and restart my little business from another port.” He chuckled a couple of times as we trudged through the deeper sand. I tried to think about my options, but nothing came to mind. While I was quicker than Yancy, I couldn’t outrun a bullet, and the sand would neutralize my speed anyway.