Lucy had been on the precipice when Sean first met her. She could have become like Kane, not a mercenary in the deserts and jungles of another country, but a mercenary within their own borders, fighting to save everyone but herself.
And that’s what Sean feared now. That she would lose herself to the demons she still battled because she would do whatever it took to save the boys, to save Agent Donnelly, to save Bella, no matter what the cost. And the cost could be great—and not just her life.
Sean would do anything to spare Lucy from what lay ahead … but he knew that was impossible.
He could only be there for her when all this was over.
They were on the makeshift runway where he’d landed the plane, waiting for Kane’s men to meet up with them. It was pitch-black, no moon, and the stars peeked out of high clouds. It could have been romantic, if he and Lucy were alone; instead, Sean was hyperalert for an attack.
Kane approached. “I can hear your tension.”
Sean glanced around, made sure Lucy wasn’t within earshot. Still, he whispered. “Lucy.”
“She can’t handle it?”
“She can.” What did he want to say? What could he say? He didn’t want Kane’s focus divided, but he also needed to protect Lucy. And not from the physical dangers they all faced. “I don’t want her to lose herself.”
At first Sean didn’t think Kane understood what he meant, but he couldn’t think of any other way to explain it. Of course Lucy was capable and trained—and even though the situation was dangerous and unpredictable, Sean trusted her instincts.
It was everything else. She’d already closed down her emotions, she’d already gotten that dark look in her eyes. He wanted her back, fully, not just part of her.
Then Kane said, “It’s the hazard of our lives. We chose this path.”
“Did we?” Kane did what he did because he was not only former military, but had lost his beloved sister to drugs and violence. Sean barely remembered Molly; Kane was only a year younger than her. Lucy did what she did because of the attack on her. She’d planned on being a linguist and traveling the world. Instead, she battled evil in her own backyard. Their fears, their anger, their need for justice—whether mercenary or legal—drove them. They couldn’t change it. There was no real choice.
He heard a whistle, then Kane whistled back. A minute later a jeep approached, no lights.
Kane glanced at Sean. “We good?”
Sean nodded. What else could he do? Maybe Kane would never understand that for Lucy this was different; she had more of herself to lose.
Two men, dressed in black, jumped out of the jeep. Kane made introductions. Skipper and Blitz. Did anyone use their real names on Kane’s squad?
“It’s quiet, four guards ID’d. We have to bypass the town, it’s controlled by Trejo.”
“Can we drive in?”
“Partway. We have a hole for the jeep, need to walk half a kilometer.”
Skipper walked over to Padre, and they hugged and smiled, but Sean couldn’t hear what they were saying. Kane approached, gave Padre a gun and radio, then walked to the jeep. The six of them crammed into the vehicle with Blitz driving.
It didn’t take long to reach the hole Skipper had mentioned. The hiding spot was a ravine between two small hills that overlooked the old prison. The town was to the north, about three hundred people living in ramshackle houses. According to Skipper, they were bought and paid for by Trejo, and they needed to avoid the place. Their goal was to take out the guards, rescue the boys and Agent Donnelly, and return to the plane without alerting anyone in the neighboring town—or alerting Trejo.
They were south-southwest of the dying town of Los Ramones, about thirty kilometers as the crow flies from the much larger city of Monterrey. But here, on the opposite side of the small Papagonos mountain range, they might as well be in the middle of nowhere. Good for stealth; bad because Sean didn’t know the area.
He’d helped Kane on and off with missions—primarily as a pilot, and mostly with the sanction and backing of Rogan-Caruso-Kincaid Protective Services. Kane’s specialty was hostage rescue, and Sean had aided as needed. But he wasn’t generally on the ground; if he was, he guarded the plane, as Padre was doing now.
If the operation went south, they were dead. And Lucy’s presence only complicated things. She was an agent of the U.S. government; if she were captured, she’d be tortured and killed. If she survived, she could lose her job. He knew none of that had registered with her, or if it had, she hadn’t let it sink in. She’d said she didn’t fear the Office of Professional Responsibility, but Sean knew her career was important to her.
Just not as important as doing the right thing, no matter how dangerous.
He studied her as she listened to everything Kane said. She wasn’t smiling. She was focused on the complex spread in front of them. Based on the information Michael and his team gave him, Kane drew a plan in the dirt.
Michael was Sean’s responsibility. He’d gotten them this far, but Sean didn’t trust the kid. Not completely. He was holding back something, and Sean couldn’t figure out what. Kane sensed it, too. At the same time, the story was true—or close to true. Based on the information that Lucy had obtained, and Kane’s knowledge of how the drug cartels operated, Michael was indeed a pawn, or a slave. But there was something more about why he escaped. Sean knew it. And so did Lucy and Kane. No one called the kid on it, and maybe that was the right call, but Sean didn’t like the sense that they were all being manipulated.
Blitz whispered, “Two guards are sleeping, passed out by the looks of things, in the structure to the far north of the complex.” He drew an X in the dirt with a stick. “Two are walking around, smoking and drinking. You’ll be able to smell them a mile away. They seem to stay between here”—he pointed to the southernmost structure—“and here.” He pointed to the central building, a crumbling two-story structure. “It’s here that the boys are kept. There’s a lock on the door, but it’s crap. There’s also something going on here.” He pointed to a small shack to the west. “There’s someone in there, better dressed, not a guard but consider him hostile.”
“Did you count the hostages?”
“Negative. We had ears, no eyes.”
“Michael,” Kane said. He waited until the boy looked at him. “You were here one month ago. You said sixteen boys?”
He nodded and pointed to the two-story structure. “That’s where we live. It’s like a dorm. There are cells, but no doors. Most of the bars are missing. But they lock us in the building.”
“What about this building?” Kane pointed on the dirt to the shack west of the prison.
Michael shrugged. “Just another place for the guards. There’s a bathroom in there. A kitchen. They don’t stay there. Jaime stays there when he comes, but he doesn’t come much. Other men I don’t know.”
“Communications?” Kane asked his team.
“There’s a generator,” Blitz said. “We take that out, we take out their communications. Radios work, no cell coverage out here. Don’t know what else they might have, we couldn’t get that close.”
“Blitz, you take the generator. Skipper, you take out the drunk guards. Sean, you stay with Michael here”—he pointed to a far-south structure—“until Lucy and I disable the patrol. On my signal, you and Michael breach the prison while Lucy and I secure the unknown subject in this small shack. If I were holding a fed, that’s where I’d keep him.” He pointed to what Sean thought of as Jaime’s house. “Once we’re clear, we’ll back you up with the boys.”
“If he’s there,” Sean said, “there’d be more guards.”
Kane caught his eye, but Sean couldn’t tell whether he agreed or not. Then Kane turned to Michael.
“You need to tell your brothers to be quiet and we’ll get them out. Tell them whatever you need to—they have to be completely silent.”
Michael nodded.
Blitz said, “The patrol has stopped outside the western barracks.”
> “What’s there?” Kane asked.
“Best we could tell it was empty. Had some beds, chains, a kitchen. An office, which is locked. New lock. Could be where they’re holding the fed.”
That meant there were two potential places for them to hold Donnelly.
“But no additional security,” Kane said.
“I can get in,” Sean said.
“Negative,” Kane said. “First, get to the boys. Lucy and I will cover the shack and the empty barracks. Understood?”
“You’re the boss,” Sean said.
“Glad we’re clear on that,” Kane said, catching Sean’s eye. “Let’s do it.”
They used the cover of night to come down from the hill, all six of them in black. Sean kept his senses focused on Michael, even though he could barely see the boy running low next to him.
Sean held Michael back at the southern structure while Lucy and Kane moved ahead. There were dim lights coming from makeshift light posts, bare bulbs hung on wires. The low grumble of an old generator to the west was the only sound. No television, no music, no traffic. The patrol weren’t even talking to each other, just smoking their cigarettes, the tobacco mixed with sweat filling his nose.
He put his hand on Michael’s shoulder to make him stop moving. The kid looked at Sean. Sean put his finger to his lips and Michael nodded.
They stayed against the wall of the decrepit building. Sean feared leaning on it would cause it to fall down, though the winds and storms that came through the desert told him the buildings would stand up. Appearances were deceiving, and not just in people.
And he waited, watching Kane and Lucy from his peripheral vision.
Kane and Lucy approached the guards from behind. Kane hit the larger guard between the shoulder blades and he went down to his knees. Immediately, Kane kicked his feet out from under him, grabbed the rifle, and hit the guard on the head.
Simultaneously Lucy did the same on the smaller guard. He dropped his weapon and Lucy kicked it away, then kicked him in the ass to keep him down. He wasn’t unconscious, and cried out once in pain. Kane hit him with the butt of the other guard’s gun and he went silent.
Sean listened for movement of other guards, an alarm of any kind, but heard nothing. They were on the far end of the complex and the one pained shout may not have been noticed, even in the still night. Or Skipper had already taken out both sleeping guards.
Lucy and Kane went directly to Jaime’s shack, while Sean took Michael to the main two-story building, the prison. He picked the lock without trouble and they slipped inside.
The overwhelming scent of feces, urine, and blood hit Sean like a hammer. A lone, bare bulb in the small entry illuminated the packed-dirt floor and crumbling walls. The ceiling was low—Sean was only an inch over six feet but he had to duck his head to get through the archway that led to a narrow hall.
There were no sounds inside at first, nothing that told Sean that there was anyone in the building. He stopped, listened … heard breathing. A quiet murmuring, as if someone was trying not to cry.
Sean turned on his small flashlight and kept it dim in one hand, his gun in the other. If there were more than four guards, he didn’t want to alert them, but he needed to see. Michael pointed to the right and Sean followed the boy’s direction.
Then he smelled death.
He turned his light to the left and quickly turned it away. Little bodies, laid out on the filthy floor, flies buzzing. He’d seen the reflection of the dead eyes in the brief flash of light.
So had Michael.
“No,” Michael said.
“Shh. Some are alive. We’ll help them.”
Michael groaned, a wholly unnatural sound, and pushed past Sean toward a rickety flight of stairs. Sean followed, the wood steps creaking under his weight.
“Kevin,” Michael said in a loud whisper. “Paolo.”
“Michael?” a small voice said.
“Yes, it’s me. Shh.”
“He said you were dead. It’s been so long.”
“Kevin, I brought help.”
The cage Michael stood in front of was locked. Seven boys huddled in the corner with dirty blankets in a prison that reeked with more than the dead and dying. He held his flashlight between his teeth and picked this lock, though it took longer than it should. Rage filled him, so primal and violent that Sean’s hands shook.
The boy called Kevin walked over and took Michael’s hand through the bars. “You said you would come back and you did. They made us—they made us—” He started to cry, soundlessly.
“Don’t,” Michael said. “Don’t think about it. We have a safe place.” Michael looked at Sean. “A way out.”
Sean told the boys, “You must be completely quiet.”
They stared at him, all seven of the boys. Michael didn’t. Michael was looking at the boys. “Where’s Tommy?”
Kevin blinked back tears and shook his head.
A cry vibrated deep in Michael’s throat.
“Michael,” Sean said sternly. “I need your help.”
The boy’s fists clenched and unclenched. Sean popped the lock. “Kevin, get everyone in a line. Follow me out. Michael, take the rear, okay?”
Michael didn’t move.
Sean grabbed his arm, hard enough to cause pain. “Michael. Focus.”
Rage filled Michael’s eyes as he glared at Sean. Sean felt the same way, but he controlled it because he had to, for all of them. But this boy wanted to hurt someone, and Sean was there. Michael punched him in the stomach, but Sean tightened his abs in time to take the impact. It still smarted.
“Save the living,” Sean said. “If you don’t do this, they will all die.”
He grunted, in pain and anger and deep despair. Tears dampened his eyes, then were gone.
Michael motioned for the seven boys to exit. One was seriously limping, dragging his foot. Sean took a quick look: There was dried blood that had virtually glued his old jeans to his leg. The boy winced when Sean touched his ankle, but didn’t cry out. A bandanna was tied around the injury.
A boy whispered, “They shot Tito last week.”
Last week? And left him in here bleeding? The boy was hot to the touch: The wound was infected. He’d been shot and left without medical attention.
Sean felt the same rage he’d seen in Michael. And pride. The boy was brave beyond anyone Sean had met. Fourteen months he’d lived in hell and he hadn’t broken. He’d been free, but had come back. For these kids. His brothers. Knowing he would most likely die, he came back anyway.
Sean picked up Tito; he weighed no more than sixty pounds and felt like bones and skin and not much else. They went down the stairs, slowly.
Gunfire erupted outside and the boys stopped, some crying out, some crouching. Sean stopped at the door but didn’t dare go out. He said into the radio. “Status?”
More gunfire was the response.
CHAPTER 33
Lucy shot the guard three times center mass and he went down, but not before he got off a shot. It grazed her arm, burning her flesh. She grimaced and swallowed a cry of pain.
She and Kane took refuge in the small shack west of where Sean and Michael were with an unknown number of boys.
“How many?” Kane asked.
“I saw three. They came from the village.”
He nodded at her arm. “How serious?”
“Not bad. Cover me.” She put her gun down, pulled out her knife and sliced a strip off the hem of her shirt. She tied it around her upper arm, as a tourniquet, using her free hand and her teeth. “Flesh wound.”
She picked her gun back up and slung the rifle she’d taken from the guard over her shoulder. Kane had watched her dress her wound without expression.
“What?” she asked.
“Competent first aid.” That was the extent of his compliment. “There’s going to be more. The village is seven minutes by car. We need to go.”
They hadn’t found Brad. There was no evidence that he’d been here, but there
was evidence that someone had been in the shack recently. A small ice chest still had melting ice. It couldn’t have been there all day. A well-dressed man? Jaime Sanchez? Doubtful. Trejo himself? Would he come here? Michael said it was rare.
Kane was eyeing the status in the courtyard. “I see two. They have a radio. We need to take them simultaneously.”
“Understood.”
“Thirty yards. Can you do that?”
She took the gun off her back. “Yes.
They positioned themselves. Kane said, “They’re at two o’clock. You take the one on the left, I’ll take the one on the right. On three.”
One. Two.
Three.
Kane opened the door and Lucy immediately took the shot. The gun jerked to the left, and she only winged the subject, but compensated for the recoil and fired two more rounds, both hitting the man’s chest. Kane took out his target with a single shot to the head.
Her adrenaline was pumping, but she felt nothing. Maybe fear, but no remorse. And even the fear was buried. She was cold. How could she kill without feeling anything?
Kill or be killed.
They’d been confronted with a threat. They reacted. It was as simple as that.
Why did she think her life could be simple again?
Who are you fooling, Lucia? Your life hasn’t been simple since the day your nephew was murdered when you were seven. And it got even more complicated after being raped and your vengeance against that bastard.
Kane was talking into his radio. She couldn’t hear whoever responded, but Kane told her, “All buildings are empty. We need to go.”
They ran out of the shack and toward the prison. Sean wasn’t standing outside. Kane said into his radio, “Sean, status?”
A moment later he said to Lucy, “He’s just inside the door. One boy isn’t mobile.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Lucy saw a figure run along the perimeter. She raised her rifle, and Kane batted the barrel down. “That’s Blitz. I’ll cover. Get the boys.”
Dead Heat Page 31
