by Jordan Dane
Kinkaid had always been a gutsy operative. Garrett should have trusted him when he said to wait for his signal. If anyone died because he gave the order to attack too soon, that would be on his head, not Kinkaid’s.
2:47
A.M.
Estella struggled to see over the men who stood in front of her, despite the pain it took for her to move at all. Flickering torches were the only light in the stone cell. And men’s voice echoed loudly as they yelled their encouragement to Pérez. They wanted him to kill the American. She screamed, “No!” and thought no one heard her, but she’d been wrong. In the noise and confusion, it took her a moment to realize that Ramon had come to her. He leaned close enough to speak in her ear.
“If you know what is good for you, you will keep your mouth shut and stay put.”
He raised a knife, and she flinched. It had been the knife he used to cut her, but this time he used it to cut her down. She collapsed in his arms, too weak to stand on her own. Her arms were numb, and every muscle in her body ached. She didn’t want to touch him or feel his hands on her again, but she had no choice.
“Can you stand?” he asked. Ramon smelled of sweat and dirt and blood.
She only shook her head. She didn’t think he would hear her. Ramon held her for only a moment before he shoved her aside to lean against a wall in the shadows. He raised a finger of warning for her to stay put before he joined the rest of the men.
Where would she go? She had no one to help her and no place safe to run.
Estella dropped to the floor and crawled away from the men, so she could see. She watched Ramon’s boss come at the American, Jackson Kinkaid. The man was weak. He could barely stand or even lift his arms, but when Pérez came at him with his knife, the American lunged for the big man. She knew the agony he felt to fight. And her pain was only a fraction of what he had endured.
Both men fell to the floor of the cell, kicking up dirt as they wrestled for the knife. The circle of men moved tighter around Pérez and the American until they blocked her view. Estella couldn’t see any more.
She was trapped, and there was nothing for her to do but watch the American die. Tears streamed down her face. She could not blame the brave man for wanting revenge. Pérez had killed his wife and child.
It took Estella a moment to realize that she was already doing the only thing she could. She prayed for both of them.
3:05
A.M.
Kinkaid grappled for the knife Pérez had in his sweaty hand. All Pérez had to do was give in. If he ordered his men to kill him, his fight would be over, but the big man never opened his mouth. He was too stubborn, something Kinkaid had counted on.
But he was no match for the fat man, not in his condition.
Every time Pérez rolled on top of him, he cut off his air. Kinkaid shoved the man aside and used his weight against him. And he kept both hands on the knife. The blade cut into his skin. And with the adrenaline racing through his system, he used his rage to keep fighting. His lungs burned, and every muscle in his body was betraying him. He had nothing left.
“To d-die . . . f-fighting. It is g-good.” The drug kingpin felt Kinkaid’s hands give way. And when he saw the blood draining down his arm, he knew Kinkaid was losing his fight. One last time, he rolled over him. And the sharp tip of the blade hung over his eye, with Pérez putting his full weight behind the knife.
“G-glad you . . . think so.” Kinkaid felt the sting of the blade cut into his cheek. In seconds, his warm blood rolled down his skin and filled his ear.
He was staring up at the last thing he would ever see—the red-faced, sweaty, drug-dealing bastard who had murdered his wife and child. Pérez looked like a madman. His eyes were bulging from his skull, and his jowls were trembling with his exertion. Kinkaid shoved at the man, using his legs to topple him, but that wasn’t working. He had no more strength left.
“It w-would be . . . easy.” Pérez whispered as he struggled to make one last thrust. “Just let . . . g-go. You will . . . die quick.”
The drug-cartel leader’s face blurred above him. The tip of his blade hovered over his one good eye. If he let go, Pérez would drive the knife into his brain. The drug trafficker was right. He’d be dead in seconds.
“No, don’t. Please!”
Kinkaid heard a faint voice, mixed with the shouts of Pérez’s men. The angry shouts echoed in the cell and nearly drowned out the girl’s voice, but eventually Kinkaid heard Estella.
“No, please don’t kill him.” She was the only one who was on his side. And she had the guts to cry out, even in the face of an angry drug-cartel boss and his men.
Her voice gave him the strength he needed to hold on. All he had to do was last a little longer, but when a deafening blast erupted and shook the ground and walls around him, he knew the cavalry had arrived. When the first missile hit, he saw the brilliant flames light up the night sky through the barred window in the cell. And he heard stone walls topple. Dust filled the room, and Pérez’s men yelled and ran for cover.
“What’s happening? What was that?”
One blast had them scrambling, but the second and third blasts had them running to save their miserable lives, scurrying like vermin into the dark.
Pérez eased up on his grip long enough for Kinkaid to breathe. Air rushed into his burning lungs as Ramon Guerrero and Miguel Rosas emerged from the shadows.
“We are being attacked. If we don’t leave now, we will be trapped. We’ll die here.” Guerrero’s voice cracked.
“Give the order, and I will kill this man,” Rosas yelled as he pulled his gun.
Kinkaid couldn’t let that happen, not now. He heaved against the drug boss one last time, shoving him into his men. In the confusion, he grabbed for the hilt of the blade and twisted it, bending the man’s fingers back. The weapon slipped from Pérez’s hands before he had a chance to fight for it.
“Kill him. Do it now!”
The drug dealer screamed his order as he crawled away like the coward he was, but he didn’t get away fast enough. Kinkaid gripped the knife and thrust it hard into the fat man’s leg. Blood spurted from the wound before the cartel boss clutched his leg to staunch the bleeding. When he cried out, Guerrero rushed to him and grappled with the man, lifting his weight off the ground.
“We have to go. Now!”
The night sky lit up with more explosions. And when the sound of automatic gunfire erupted, Rosas aimed his weapon. Kinkaid had nothing to defend himself with except the knife in his hand. On his knees, he grabbed the tip and threw it at Rosas. The blade spun end over end until it struck the armed gunmen’s flesh with a meaty sound. It embedded in his chest, hilt deep.
Wide-eyed, Rosas staggered back, his jaw slack, staring down at the knife protruding from the center of his body. The hilt of the blade pulsed, moving in time with his still-beating heart. And as blood blossomed from the fatal wound, it saturated his shirt with a deep crimson. The man dropped to his knees, still aiming the weapon at the prisoner.
Kinkaid held his breath. If Rosas had the strength to pull the trigger, he’d be dead before the bastard took his last breath.
Chapter 13
Outside the Pérez Compound
3:20
A.M.
Garrett watched the air assault from a distance as his team fell back to the designated rendezvous point and checked in. One by one, he heard from each of his men but still hadn’t seen or heard from Alexa.
Where the hell are you?
Garrett and his team were firing back when the armed men behind the compound walls got off a few rounds, but the attacks were sporadic. The air assault had split the drug cartel’s forces, and some of Pérez’s foot soldiers were running for cover and scattering into the hills, the ones who had had enough fighting an unmanned drone that could target their positions with precision. In this attack, they weren’t after the small fish.
“Whisky Two, reporting in, sir.” Hank’s voice came over his com unit. “Not that I’m complai
ning, but who’s operating the Reaper?”
“Don’t know. One of Kinkaid’s men, I’d guess.” Garrett couldn’t tell Hank who was operating the UAV, but he couldn’t help smiling. He had a grin on his face as he watched more missiles hit the Pérez estate.
“If you take fire, return it, but stay put until the UAV is done. Wait for my order.”
Even with the Reaper UAV’s sophisticated technology, Garrett knew his teams would have a hard time joining the battle. They would have no way to communicate they were “friendlies.” And a thermal-scanner surveillance didn’t have the capability of distinguishing his team from Pérez’s men.
But from the looks of things, apparently Kinkaid had thought about that. So far, the UAV was only blowing the shit out of Pérez’s estate and punching holes in his stone walls. The Reaper was paving the way for Garrett’s ground teams to clean up. Within minutes, the unmanned drone would let them get to work.
“Martini One, come in.” Garrett kept his voice steady. “Do you need assistance, Martini One?”
When Alexa didn’t answer, Garrett took a deep breath and focused on the rest of his team.
“Whisky Two, are you getting a transmission from inside?” Garrett knew it was a long shot, but he had to know. “Is our boy still alive?”
He was breaking protocol by saying too much, but he had to know. If he got confirmation that Kinkaid was still alive, he’d push his men to move in as soon as the last rocket was launched. While he waited for Hank’s response, Garrett got out his binoculars and searched the flaming rubble below for any sign of Alexa. Her men had checked in, but she was still missing. And the longer she stayed that way, the more he worried.
“Where are you?”
He had a bad feeling that she hadn’t waited for the air assault to be over. If she thought there was a chance she could save Kinkaid from the fate he had planned for himself, she would go in with guns blazing. And she wouldn’t risk her team to back her play. She’d go it alone.
“Damn it, Alexa,” he cursed.
Garrett had the rest of his team to think about. He couldn’t give a command that he knew would put his men at risk. He had no idea why Alexa wasn’t answering him, but either option wasn’t good. She was either dead or badly injured, or she’d gone in after Kinkaid on her own.
Alexa Marlowe and Jackson Kinkaid were two of a kind.
With her binoculars, Alexa had seen movement and a flash of light coming from a barred window right before the air assault. From the belowground prison cell, she had heard men shouting until the UAV launched its deadly payload—and she and her men had run for cover.
But in that split second, she had made a decision.
When the missile had blown a hole through a main wall, the initial blast had blinded her. She saw her team retreat, and she should have followed. They motioned to her, and she saw their mouths move, but her hearing was nearly gone. Instinct told her she should have gone with them, but her heart sent a different message. She couldn’t leave, not without knowing what had happened to Jackson.
In the noise and confusion, she made a run for it, only she didn’t do the smart thing like her men had done. She ran toward the breach in the stone wall that surrounded the Pérez estate. And when a second rocket hit the main house and sent stone and debris flying, she felt rocks pummel her body, and she had no way to protect herself. She went down, and everything went black.
It had taken her precious minutes to recover. She’d lost consciousness. How long she’d been out, Alexa didn’t know. By the time she got to her feet, she stumbled deeper into the hacienda, with everything a blur. She’d gotten caught in the fallout, and shards of rock had cut her face. Smoke from the intense flames billowed black into the night air, making it hard to see and breathe. And it took all her concentration to hold on to her H&K MP-5 assault rifle. Men escaping the burning estate ran into her, but they never looked back.
“What the hell . . . ?”
When she realized where she was and remembered what was happening, she had no choice. The air attack had escalated. She had to look for cover and go farther into the compound. That was when she remembered the prison cell where she had heard the angry men shouting before. Since Kinkaid had a way of riling people, that seemed like a likely place to begin her search.
“Damn it.” Disoriented, she raised a hand to her ear and looked down the front of her shirt. “Where is it?”
It took her time to realize she’d lost her com unit back in the rubble where she’d fallen. Alexa knew her decision to search for Kinkaid alone hadn’t been her finest hour. She wasn’t thinking straight, but it was only her ass on the line now. Whatever consequences there would be, she would face them alone, and she could accept that. The last thing she wanted was to be responsible for anyone else getting dragged into the risk she was about to take.
“Kinkaid, I swear, you better be alive, so I can kill you myself.”
3:32
A.M.
Kinkaid stared into the vacant eyes of Miguel Rosas. The crazed, bloodthirsty lunatic still had a gun pointed at his head.
Outside, the war raged on. Secondary explosions mixed with the staccato sounds of automatic gunfire. And dust and smoke clouded the stone cell. Wide-eyed, Estella stood frozen in place, staring at the man with the gun. Even Guerrero had stopped at the cell door. He had Pérez’s arm over his shoulder as he helped the man escape, leaving a trail of the drug dealer’s blood on the ground. He was bleeding like the stuck pig he was.
But all eyes were on Miguel Rosas.
And Kinkaid could do nothing except wait for the man to pull the trigger. He was too far away to lunge for the weapon. And he had nothing else to fight with.
“Kill him, Miguel. Do it!” Pérez demanded. “Pull the trigger!”
Rosas blinked. He gripped his weapon tighter and steadied his aim. That left Kinkaid with nothing left to do but open his mouth.
“You’re done, Pérez. This isn’t the only place we hit tonight.” Kinkaid forced a weak grin. If he was going down, he wanted the drug-cartel boss to know what he’d done. “We wiped you out.”
MQ-9 Reaper UAVs had arrived in time to annihilate Pérez and his entire operation. Kinkaid’s men had staged more than one attack, at multiple locations. By now, the second drug cartel that Pérez had worked years to rebuild was nothing more than massive holes in the ground.
Kinkaid and his men had been researching the drug dealer’s strongholds and supply connections for years. Every key target that could be destroyed without jeopardizing innocent lives had been hit in simultaneous assaults across Mexico.
His taunt had been enough to force Pérez to make his move. The man grabbed for the gun Guerrero had stuffed into the waistband of his pants. He cursed and took aim. When Miguel Rosas saw his boss move, he turned and lowered his weapon as another missile tore through the stone wall near the makeshift cell.
That was the break Kinkaid needed.
As flames billowed through the barred window, and rocks rained down on them, Kinkaid lunged for Rosas and shoved him to the ground. He grabbed for the gun as he rolled behind the man. When Pérez fired his weapon, Kinkaid returned fire. And the only protection he had was Miguel Rosas. He heard the bullets as they riddled the man’s body. And when he could, he shot back. He saw the drug boss stagger when he put a hole in his chest, but in the chaos, Kinkaid didn’t know what happened.
He felt a punch in his shoulder, but kept shooting. Estella screamed and cringed in a corner, covering her head. When Kinkaid heard her, he got to his knees and shielded her from fire. And Guerrero had used the fat body of his boss to cower behind. Everything happened in slow motion.
Bullets ricocheted off stone, splintering wood and spraying shards of rock into the room. And when another blast shook the foundation, and the roof started to crack and break free, Guerrero had had enough.
“Let’s go . . . let’s go. Now!” The man urged his boss to move. And when the big man stumbled, Guerrero grabbed him by the collar and pu
lled him into the corridor, making a run for it. His motivation wasn’t difficult to figure. Guerrero had no weapon. Pérez had taken it.
Guerrero had no choice but to get his boss moving, the man who was big enough to use as a human shield. And with the hacienda coming down, if they didn’t get out now, the odds were they’d be buried alive where they stood.
“Move it! Now!” Guerrero yelled.
Kinkaid stood and looked for Estella in the haze of black smoke and suffocating dust. When he found her, he knelt beside her.
“Are you okay? Can you move?” When the girl nodded, he said, “We have to get out of here.”
But it was too late. The minute Kinkaid had the girl on her feet, heading for the only way out, the roof caved in. He pulled her back and put his body between her and the falling rock. It was all he had time to do.
“Get down. Cover your head.” He shielded the girl as best he could. Every stone that hammered his body sent a shock wave of pain through him. And after a brilliant burst of light blinded him, his body went limp. He fought to stay conscious, but lost his battle.
Darkness swallowed him whole.
Chapter 14
Outside the Pérez Estate
4:10
A.M.
“The whole place is a house of cards, ready to come down. Heads up, people.” Over his com unit, Garrett warned his men as they walked through the fallen stone wall at the entrance to the hacienda. They’d split into three-man teams and spread out, making tougher targets.
“Anyone who finds Martini One, sing out.”
When the UAV had stopped firing, Garrett and his men breached the perimeter and went hunting for survivors. Most of Pérez’s men had split, running for the foothills. And there had been only the occasional skirmish between his men and those still hiding within the walls of the estate.
The UAV flew wide circles around the vast property. Soon, the drone would have to leave. Once Mexican authorities detected the battle, they’d have to evade capture. The longer they were there, the greater the chance of them getting caught, but Garrett hadn’t found Kinkaid or Alexa yet. No matter how one-sided the attack might have been, any victory would be tainted if Jackson and Alexa had been killed in the assault.
