Reckoning for the Dead sj-4

by Jordan Dane

  And if he didn’t have enough to worry about, what Alexa had told him about Donovan Cross had disturbed him. What was Cross up to? And who was backing him for the number one slot? One man couldn’t do it alone. He had no doubt that Cross had help, but how far would Garrett have to go to protect his back? Returning to his old life, as head of the Sentinels, might be dangerous, especially when he had no idea who had supported Cross in his apparent attempt at a takeover. Someone within the Sentinels had made it easy.

  “Found something. Over here.” The voice of Hank Lewis came over his earbud, a much needed distraction from the conspiracies filling his head. When Garrett looked for Hank, he saw him waving in the glow of the burning hacienda. By the time he got to him, Hank was kneeling near a large pile of rubble, holding something in his hand.

  “Found Martini One’s com unit.” Hank held the gear up toward the light and showed it to Garrett. “She didn’t respond because she couldn’t.”

  Finding her com link didn’t mean she was alive. Her body could be under the pile of stones at their feet, but since they hadn’t secured the compound, Garrett couldn’t divert his men into a rescue mission for one agent. As he saw it, he had only one option.

  “Put a team on this spot,” he told Hank. “Have them trade off. Two men dig through this pile and one stands guard. Call out if they . . . find her.”

  “Will do, sir.”

  Garrett didn’t want to think that Alexa was dead. She was a force of nature, a strong, intelligent woman who was a borderline adrenaline junkie. She thrived in his world, living on the razor’s edge of danger. Imagining her dying before he had taken his last breath was something he couldn’t handle. Even though he gave his order to Hank, it pained him to pretend he could conduct business as usual.

  Loving her had been the reason he’d let her go. Neither of them had functioned in their jobs the way they should have. When the success of the mission should have been top priority, they each layered on the added complication of caring what happened to the other. They took unnecessary risks to protect one another, real over-the-top stuff like her risking her career and her life to come looking for him in Mexico.

  So when Garrett had seen an opportunity to end it, he had let her find him with another woman, someone who didn’t matter and could remain discreet. Although it had killed him to hurt Alexa that way, he had seen the writing on the wall and knew it was in her best interest to dump him so she could find a better man.

  Quitting Alexa was the hardest thing he had ever done. And he’d failed at it. Now it would take all his concentration to focus on the rest of his mission, when all he wanted to do was find her.

  But from the look on Hank’s face, the man had more bad news.

  “My communications guy just got a call from our handler,” Hank interrupted his misery. “He’s picking up chatter with the local police. They know we’re here, and they’re coming out to investigate. We’ve run out of time, sir.”

  Garrett stared across the compound. The Sentinels had survived for as long as they had because of their secrecy. He wouldn’t break that code.

  He knew what he had to do, but he didn’t have to like it.

  Before the last missile blew apart the main residence, Alexa had zeroed in on the prison cell she had seen from the outside. One corridor, partially belowground, had fit her memory of its location. But after the blast, the destruction had been devastating. Whole sections of the roof had collapsed, and flames lit the night sky. Clouds of dust made it hard to breathe, but she pressed on, aiming her MP-5 into every dark corner. With slow, deliberate steps, she made her way through the debris.

  When she heard a moan ahead, and the sound of footsteps echoing down what remained of the stone hallway, she moved faster.

  She peered through the dust and smoke and saw movement. The faint silhouette of a man caught her eye. She wanted to yell out, but she had no idea if the man was Kinkaid or the enemy.

  The man she had seen hadn’t been alone. Another wounded man was with him. With his back to her, the big man hobbled and needed help to walk. When Alexa got close enough to take aim, she shouted.

  “Stop, or I’ll shoot.”

  One man looked over his shoulder, the one helping the wounded guy, but neither of them slowed down. And when they disappeared around a corner, she’d lost sight of them.

  “Damn it,” she cursed under her breath.

  But before she could chase them down, something caught her eye. When she crossed the threshold of the only chamber down that corridor—a room that had a massive door splintered by the blast and fallen rock at the entrance that blocked the way in—she saw a light.

  A flickering flame burned through the debris. And eclipsing the fire was a barred window that had been cracked from its casing. The metal bars cut the light and were exactly what she had seen from outside. Gut instinct told her this cell was the one she had come to find.

  “Kinkaid . . . you in there?” She took a risk and called out his name, but no one answered. While she kept her eye on the corridor where the men had vanished, she leaned closer to peer through the pile of rock.

  Nothing moved inside.

  “Jackson. Talk to me. Please.” She yelled louder this time, but still, she heard nothing.

  Alexa stood back from the cell and stared at the cave-in. Something made her stay. She couldn’t explain it, but to move the boulders that blocked the door didn’t make sense if there were no signs of life inside. She grimaced and shook her head as she held her assault rifle. She had the two men to follow. They were real. They should have been her target, but something kept her rooted where she was.

  “Kinkaid. Give me a reason. Please!”

  When her plea echoed in the room without a response and nothing else to show for it, Alexa reluctantly made up her mind to leave. She turned, but stopped when she heard it. The sound barely registered with her, and yet she knew she’d heard something.

  A choking cough.

  “Jackson, is that you? Come on. Answer me.”

  “Please . . . h-help him. I don’t know what to do.”

  A girl’s voice gripped Alexa by the throat. When she heard it, she didn’t hesitate. She slung her weapon on her shoulder and dug into the rocks and debris blocking the splintered door.

  “Hold on. I’m coming,” Alexa cried out as she worked.

  Sweat that had beaded on her skin now ran down her arms and back. It stung her eyes, but she kept working. And without gloves, the shards of rock cut her hands, and dust clotted the wounds.

  “Is he alive? Please tell me,” she begged the girl. And while she shoved at the door that hung off a hinge, she listened for any signs of life inside. When no answer came, Alexa worked harder. A minute later, she heard the weak voice again. The girl answered her, but Alexa didn’t like what she heard.

  “I don’t know. I don’t think h-he’s breathing. Pl-please hurry. There’s blood.”

  A slow rage burned under Alexa’s skin. She hadn’t come this close to Kinkaid to let him die. With her hands bleeding and raw, she strained to move the wall of stone that stood between them.

  “Hang on, Jackson. Please . . . for once in your life, do as I tell you.”

  Chapter 15

  Alexa heaved rocks one by one, trying to open a gap for her to squeeze through the toppled wall. Outside, she still heard the sounds of the skirmish, but things had died down. To avoid the Mexican authorities, Garrett’s team on the ground and Kinkaid’s UAV would have to clear out soon. She was running out of time, but she had no choice, not now.

  The more she worked, the more her hands and shoulders ached.

  She heard muffled sounds coming from outside. She tried calling for help, but no one heard her. Being in a collapsed part of the hacienda, Alexa knew it would take time for Garrett and his men to find her. And it would soon be dawn. In the harsh light of day, she didn’t want to get stranded and have to explain to the Mexican government why she was there. Getting caught would land her in a Mexican prison, with th
e Sentinels throwing away the key. They wouldn’t officially claim her, and that meant she’d be on her own, but all she could think about was . . .

  “Jackson? Are you with me?” she called out.

  “He’s opening his eyes,” the girl told her. “Can you hear me, señor?”

  Alexa heard the excitement in the girl’s voice when she began talking to Kinkaid. And with more of the rock shoved aside, Alexa heard the crunch of shoes on the stone floor. The girl was moving inside the cell. At least she was free and didn’t have to be dug out. Alexa prayed that would be the same for Jackson.

  “Is he okay?” she asked.

  “I think so, but I see blood. I think he’s been shot.”

  Alexa craned her neck to look into the cell. Torches had been tossed to the floor but were still lit. The flames gave off enough light for her to see a small girl kneeling by Kinkaid. Dust covered both of them.

  “I’m coming. Hang on.”

  Alexa shoved at the last boulder that blocked her way. She squeezed through and worked her way back to where they were. The roof looked dangerously fragile. It wasn’t safe, but she had to see how bad Kinkaid was before she moved them to a better location.

  Jackson was sprawled flat on his back in a corner of the cell, covered in dirt and debris. Alexa had to lift rocks off his legs before she could get close enough. When she stared down at him, she saw his blood-covered shirt and went looking for the damage. He’d been shot in the shoulder, but that was the least of his worries. She’d seen men tortured before, but nothing like this.

  She couldn’t help but stare at him. He’d been beaten so badly that half his face was swollen, and one eye was nearly shut. His body was bruised with deep contusions, with knife wounds across his chest and stomach. He had to be in incredible pain even though he didn’t let it show.

  But Jackson was breathing. And that made him beautiful to her.

  Alexa stared into his dazed eyes until she knew he recognized her. With trembling fingers, she touched his cheek, careful not to cause him more pain. She never thought she’d see him alive again.

  She had walked away from him in Cuba when she saw in his eyes that he had nothing to give her . . . or anyone. He was too much in love with his dead wife and too empty inside from grieving over his only child. And from what she saw in him now, that hadn’t changed, but she couldn’t help how she felt about him. Loving Kinkaid had been her joy and her curse. And she wasn’t sure she would change that, even if she could.

  “You’re a hard man to kill, Jackson.” Thank, God, she wanted to add.

  “You say that . . . like it’s a b-bad thing.” When he tried to smile, he winced from his cut lip.

  “They tortured him. I heard it . . . and I saw what they did. It was terrible,” the young girl said with fresh tears in her eyes. “When the rocks came down, he protected me.”

  “Don’t make me out to be a hero, chica. No one who really knows me will believe you.”

  “He’s got a point,” Alexa said as she shrugged out of her shirt. “What’s your name, little one?”

  “Estella Calderone.”

  “Thanks for helping him, Estella. Now we need to get both of you out of here. Can you walk?”

  “Yes.” The girl nodded.

  This time, she turned to Jackson. “And how about you? You look a little rough, big guy.”

  “Took one in the shoulder. Is the bullet still in there?”

  She helped him rise enough to see his back. Without an exit wound, the bullet was still lodged in him. Someone would have to cut it out. But something else caught her eye.

  “What’s that old burn scar? When did you get that?” Before he answered, she remembered where she’d seen that burn before. “Actually, that looks like Garrett’s scar. You didn’t . . .”

  By the look on Kinkaid’s face, she knew what he’d done. He’d burned his own skin to make it look like a scar Garrett had, in case the drug cartel had heard about it.

  “Seemed like a good idea . . . at the time.” He shrugged.

  “You’re insane. Plain loco,” she said, noticing that Estella was nodding behind his back. “And that bullet is still in there. Garrett brought a medic. He’ll have you patched up in no time.”

  “No way. Pérez just left. He’s wounded. I can catch him, but I gotta go now.” When Kinkaid struggled to sit up, rocks and debris fell off him. Alexa helped him brush off as she thought about what to say.

  “When I saw him, he wasn’t alone. By now he could have plenty of help. And you’re in no shape to chase after them, not anymore.”

  “Ramon Guerrero is with him,” Estella told her. “He’s a dangerous man.”

  “There, you see? Listen to her.” When Jackson tried to stand, Alexa helped him to his feet, but the guy was real shaky. “Look at you. You have a bullet in you. Your face looks like raw hamburger meat. And you’re barefoot. How far do you think you’ll get like that?”

  It took Kinkaid a moment to straighten up. And when he did, he looked her in the eye and ran a finger through her hair and tugged at a strand with a nod, his only acknowledgment of her changed hair color.

  “I’ll get as far as I need to.” He softened his tone. “Now please . . . tell me where he went?”

  When she didn’t answer right away, he glared at her with his one good eye. No matter what shape Kinkaid was in, he still looked intimidating. His handsome face was battered and bruised, and his broad shoulders and tight abs were covered with bloody cuts and contusions. He’d been tortured for days, and it showed on every inch of his body.

  He was barefoot and dressed in a thin pair of pants and an oversized shirt that made him look like a refugee from a prison camp, but the fire in his eyes was still there. Seeing him like that made Alexa a believer.

  Jackson Kinkaid wanted revenge. He had come to take down Manolo Quintanilla Pérez and annihilate everything he stood for. Alexa understood that. The drug-cartel leader had brutally taken everything that Kinkaid held dear and loved—his wife and precious child.

  From their last hostage-rescue mission in Cuba, Alexa had seen firsthand the pain of Kinkaid’s self-imposed exile from the rest of humanity. He hadn’t always been that way, but he’d changed after his family had been killed.

  He’d alienated everyone who had mattered in his life. Her included. And he’d banished himself to live among drug dealers and the dregs of society as a mercenary for hire, so he could focus on the only thing he had left. She knew he hadn’t thought about tomorrow because, for him, there wasn’t one. Kinkaid hadn’t counted on living beyond this mission, but with so much at stake, Alexa knew.

  She wouldn’t be the one who stood in his way.

  “Come on. I’ll show you. But not before I bandage that shoulder.”

  After Alexa had cut up her shirt to use as a bandage to stop Kinkaid’s bleeding and give protection to his bare feet, she led him and Estella down the collapsed corridor that she’d seen Guerrero and his boss escaping. It was dark, and the going was slow. They had to be careful they weren’t headed into an ambush. She’d followed a heavy blood trail. The big man Guerrero had helped get away was hurt bad.

  But with Kinkaid barely able to walk without her and Estella’s help, they weren’t in much better shape. Jackson’s bare feet were holding up, but she knew he was in pain. And as they neared a busted door that looked like it led to the outside, Alexa took the lead and aimed her assault rifle.

  “Stay behind me,” she said, mainly for Estella’s benefit. “And don’t move until I say so.”

  Gripping her MP-5, she found a bloody handprint on the doorjamb and knew Guerrero and Pérez had come that way. She listened through the door before she opened it, but what she heard had disturbed her.

  Nothing. She heard absolutely nothing, and the stillness bothered her.

  She had expected to hear the UAV making a run overhead or the sounds of Garret’s men outside. When that didn’t happen, she kicked the door open and squinted into the first rays of sunlight. Brilliant oran
ge painted the top of the ridge where they’d pulled surveillance. Alexa slowly stepped out into the sun and looked around, clearing the way for Kinkaid and Estella.

  Inside the perimeter, fires were still burning, and black smoke spiraled into the early-morning sky. The smoke would make them an easy target for the local cops, who would see the attack site from a distance. And wherever Alexa looked, she saw no one to help them.

  Pérez and his men were gone, but so were Garrett and his people. They were alone.

  “Damn.”

  “Garrett couldn’t take the risk. You know that. He had his men to consider.” Kinkaid’s low, gritty voice gave her comfort. “I’m sorry, Alexa. If you want to beat it, I’ll understand. I can stall ’em until you and Estella get out of here.”

  “Stall who?” she asked.

  Kinkaid answered by pointing, and saying, “The Federales. And unless you want to see a remake of Butch and Sundance, you better take me up on my offer.”

  On the horizon, Alexa saw a cloud of dust on the dirt road heading toward the hacienda. Several vehicles with flashing lights were barreling toward them. She didn’t need binoculars to know that the Mexican Federal Police were only minutes away. Their time had run out.

  “No way, Kinkaid. No man left behind, remember? Come on. We gotta go. Now.”

  When Alexa turned, she came face-to-face with Estella. The girl looked scared. And she didn’t have to open her mouth. Alexa knew what was on her mind.

  “You can’t come with us,” she told her. “It’ll be too dangerous.”

  “But please, don’t leave me here. They will put me in prison.”

  “You didn’t do anything. Just tell them that. I’m sure after they question you, they’ll let you go.”

  The girl grabbed her hand and begged.