Connor (In the Company of Snipers Book 5)

by Irish Winters

  “No, I don’t care where he is. I’ve got you.” Izza eased herself on top of Connor’s hips as carefully as she could. The last thing she wanted right now was to talk anymore about the monster her father had become. “Enough about me. Tell me all of your brothers’ names again.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Again? Okay. There’s Matt, Tim, Keenan, Sean, Patrick, and the baby, Brendan, only he’s not much of a baby anymore.”

  “And Matt, Tim and Keenan are already in the Corps?”

  Connor sighed. “Yes. Matt’s in Afghanistan. Tim’s shipping out to places unknown in a week, and Keenan’s graduating from boot camp soon. My poor mother. She’ll be all alone before she knows it.”

  “She raised you boys all by herself?” Izza asked.

  Another long sigh. Connor curled a tendril of her hair around his index finger. “For the last nine years. Dad was a detective on the Boston police force. I was fifteen when it happened. He and his partner went after Paddy O’Donnell, the Irish arms dealer. Things went bad. Mom never told us boys the whole story. The mayor shut down the city for the funeral. It was like one long sad procession. Even when I go home today, people I’ve never met before come up to me on the street and tell me a story about him. It’s like he’s still there.”

  She studied Connor’s somber countenance. His eyes drifted to the curl on his finger and she knew he was reliving the loss of his father.

  “Tell me his name,” she said.

  “Connor James Maher. Just like mine.” A tender smile brightened his face. Connor loved his father. He missed him. Regret poked a pointed fingernail into Izza’s heart. Yet there were many times she’d wished hers had never come home.

  “Where do you live now?”

  “Silver Springs, but you know that, too. I’ve told you before.” He tapped the end of her nose, breaking the somber moment. “And Mom still lives in the same clapboard house in Boston. You’re going to meet her.”

  “I know. I just like to hear you talk about your family. It sounds so—normal.”

  “Ha. There’s nothing normal about us Maher boys. Just ask my Mom. Oh, the stories she could tell you.”

  “I intend to. Your gunshot wound must be feeling a lot better today, huh?”

  He smirked. “I think all of me feels a lot better.”

  “I’m sorry that I—”

  “Shush.” He stopped her with a finger to her lips. “Stop saying you’re sorry. What’s past is past. Let’s concentrate on our future.”

  Warmth filled her body. “I’d rather concentrate on the present.”

  Blue eyes darkened to smoldering and sexy. “They do say the present is a gift. Was there something you, umm, wanted to give me?”

  Oh, yeah....

  Twenty-Two

  Mark Houston was not a happy man. He and his team had been on surveillance in the hot Sonoran desert for days now. They were tired, dirty, and deserved a three-day pass instead of an additional mission that was guaranteed to turn the already troubled hacienda upside down.

  What the hell was Alex thinking?

  The answer was obvious. Two little girls. That much Mark knew for sure because he’d storm heaven and hell if anything ever happened to his daughter, JayJay.

  He headed back to those good troops he’d left in the Sonoran desert. All dressed in similar desert cammies, guilt rattled him as they gathered around him, sunburned and half-baked. They should be lounging around a brightly tiled swimming pool, sipping margaritas and stuffing their faces with shrimp, chips and guacamole instead of planning a kidnapping. He didn’t want to stick it to them one more time, but he did. Orders were orders. And Alex was right.

  “Change of mission,” he declared. “We’re going into the Ramirez estate to remove his daughters.”

  Cassidy’s eyebrows arched. Brigham nearly choked on his gum. Only Rory had the nerve to ask, “Why?”

  Mark laid it on the line. “Because of what we saw at the gravel pit, and because Ramirez was poisoned in his Salt Lake City jail cell.”

  “Some one killed the cartel boss?” Cassidy exclaimed. “Damn. I wanted to do that.”

  “I know how you feel, but the hit came from within the Ramirez hacienda,” Mark said. “There is a coup taking place. We can’t take the chance the girls won’t be next.”

  “Any word on Connor yet?” she asked.

  Mark shook his head. It was hard to miss the hopeful tone to her question, but he also noticed she hadn’t asked about Izza. They’d better be found alive, or God help whoever the new cartel boss was.

  “You’ve got to be kidding.” Rory scanned the two recently hired junior agents at his side. “It’s an armed camp, Mark. One peep from those kids and we’re dead. That means you and I are going in.”

  “Not necessarily. I can do it,” Brigham spoke up.

  “So can I,” Cassidy said. “Just because we weren’t military doesn’t mean we’re slouches.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” Rory muttered. “You two are damned good shots, but this is a ghost op. You’ve seen the influx of armed guards into the hacienda the last couple of days. We’ll be outmanned twelve to one the minute we pass go.”

  “Ghost op?” Brigham asked.

  “Like Ninjas,” Cassidy muttered out of the side of her mouth.

  “No,” Mark interrupted firmly. “It’s not like anything on television. Military ghosts are specialty operators trained to go into the worst circumstances. They know how to avoid security cameras, how to spot infrared detection systems, and how to kill with their bare hands while they remain unseen and undetected. A ghost operator will lie in the mud for days to acquire his target even if it’s a suicide mission and he’ll end up dead. Will you?”

  Cassidy shook her head. “Sorry, Mark. I didn’t mean anything.”

  Rory stared his agent in charge down. Instead of arguing, he said, “Brigham and Cassidy will have to cover us. That’s the only way we stand a prayer. But what happens if something goes sideways while we’re inside. What if we get those little girls killed?”

  “Don’t think I haven’t asked myself the same questions,” Mark replied evenly. “Trust me. I know you don’t have any kids yet, but I keep thinking of JayJay. The problem is that if we don’t do anything, those girls will be dead by morning.”

  “Are we sure about that?” Rory asked, an odd shadow shifting over through his eyes.

  “Yes,” Mark answered. “And speaking as a father, if that was my daughter in there, suicide would be an option. I would die for my family.”

  “Shit, Mark. What are Libby and JayJay going to do if you—” Rory didn’t finish. He didn’t have to. Mark stopped short of answering. His wife and daughter’s lives were on the same line as his. The day he fell in the line of duty would destroy them.

  Cassidy and Brigham had grown silent.

  “Listen team,” Mark said quietly. “I don’t have all the answers, guys, but if those were my girls in there, I’d pray to God someone was brave enough to try to save them.”

  Rory nodded one short affirmative and the debate was over. “When?” he asked.

  “Zero dark thirty,” Mark answered. “Tonight.”

  “Until then?”

  “We prepare for hell.”

  And so they did. Undercover work in a country where only drug lords and criminals were armed was not as difficult as the honest citizen might think. Black market resources provided all Mark’s team needed, definitely at a higher cost than usual, but available nonetheless. Tactical gear, American made military weapons, computer systems, you name it. As well as items they’d never thought of buying, from weapons grade plutonium to eleven-year old virgins. Operating out of the dilapidated van they’d all but lived in since arriving in the country made keeping track of their ill-gotten gains a lot easier. A thief couldn’t steal what he couldn’t get his hands on.

  By late afternoon, they were ready to go and finalizing strategy. They hadn’t strapped on yet due to the heat. Rory and Brigham were sitting cross-legged on th
e ground while Cassidy sat in the open side door of their van.

  Mark stood before them to explain the mission as he saw it. “Getting inside the walls should be fairly straightforward. Cassidy, you will follow at left flank and walk us in. Sit tight at point A and wait for our exit signals. Three clicks on your walkie-talkie means I’m coming out. Two, it will be Rory.”

  “By then, both packages will be secure,” Rory added. “We’ll be moving fast, so stay alert. I’ll have Christina. Mark will have Sophia. Be ready for anything.”

  “Brigham, you’re Mother for the night,” Mark continued. “Remain undercover with Cassidy but keep us informed. We’ve planted enough Tattle Tales in that hacienda for you to be eyes and ears once we’re inside. Talk us through any hots spots. Keep us safe. Can you handle that?”

  “Absolutely,” Brigham replied. “You call all your communication guys Mother, do you?”

  “Nope,” Rory answered without really explaining. “Just the genius types. Again, three clicks on the walkie-talkie for Mark. Two, it’s me.”

  “How many clicks if something goes wrong?” Cassidy asked

  Mark grunted. “I’m afraid you’ll hear a lot more than clicks then.”

  “How will you keep the girls quiet once you get them?”

  Mark held up two palm-sized aerosol cans. “Mild sedative. They won’t feel a thing. Are we good with this plan?”

  “How will we get the girls out of the country once we’ve got them?” Brigham asked.

  “Don’t worry about that,” Mark said firmly. “Both Rory and I have done this before on domestic abductions operations. I have a point of contact back East who can put a boat in the Gulf of California by the time we hit shore.”

  “Unless we head straight north to Nogales,” Rory offered. “I know a guy—”

  “No, Guaymas is closer,” Mark said. “I’d prefer we go south anyway. It’s a diversionary tactic. They’ll be expecting us to go north or due west.”

  Brigham raked a hand over his head, his eyes definitely wide open now. “Man. You guys are good.”

  Mark caught the look of deep down concern in Rory’s sharp blues. He only hoped he and Rory were as good as they sounded. A lot of lives depended on it.

  “There is one last thing.” Mark lowered his voice. “We go in. We come out. From now on, everything we do is to cover each other. There is no United States Army or cavalry coming to our rescue. It’s only us four. We make this happen. We save these girls. We go home tonight.”

  Rory reached across the space between them to fist bump. Mark met him halfway. Cassidy and Brigham did the same. Funny how that simple caveman-type contact felt like a whole lot more.

  “Let’s get into position.” Mark nodded toward the stately Ramirez hacienda. “Until go time, we keep eyes on the funny farm.”

  “Good enough.” Rory stretched his back as he stood. “Operation Funny Farm it is.”

  Returning to their posts in the grass and sagebrush outside the estate proved just as hot as the previous days. Their grid consisted of four-points of observation, one at each direction. Since their van was parked out of sight to the east, Mark took the farthest post and hoofed a wide circle to the western most point.

  “Comm check,” he muttered into his walkie-talkie. A Bluetooth headset would have been nice, but the black marketeers had fallen short in the communication department for some reason.

  “Copy that,” Rory responded.

  “Loud and clear, Agent Houston,” Cassidy added quietly.

  “Copy,” Brigham said.

  “Watch and pray, guys,” Mark muttered before he hunkered to the ground to see what he could see. The compact ARs he’d midnight-requisitioned for his team came with Leupold riflescopes that offered 18.00 maximum magnification and state of the art digital cameras on a side-mounted rack. He’d have some explaining to do once this op was over for the horrific cash outlays to his expense account, but he wasn’t worried. Alex always maintained that if he could fix a problem with money, it wasn’t really a problem.

  Mark positioned the rifle’s bipod and made himself comfortable. The sun hit him from behind, but the slight swell of land and the Leupold put him over the wall and right inside Alejandra’s rose garden. The classic red-tiled roof on the one level, ranch-style mansion made it almost romantically southwestern, but the green and black camouflaged cargo trucks parked on the brick courtyard quickly corrected that notion.

  He scanned the courtyard for activity. The odd thing about these newly arrived guards was their lack of military demeanor. They dressed the part and seemed to have no problem killing, but they acted more like lazy teenagers otherwise. The two in his scope at the moment were lounging beneath the wide porch that encompassed the entire estate. One appeared to be scrolling through his cell phone. The other had a beer. Both of their rifles were leaned against the wall and out of reach.

  Mark’s cell vibrated in his shirt pocket.

  “What’s up, Ember,” he answered quietly.

  “Hey. How’s the vacation in sunny Mexico?”

  “Hot,” he said while he flicked a tiny scorpion that had gotten too close to his elbow into the wild blue yonder. “Hope you’re calling with good news for a change.”

  “I wish I were. You’re not going to like this.”

  “Haven’t liked anything for a week or two now. What’s up?”

  The lovely Alejandra had just stepped out of one of the many French doors of the estate. She was a beauty. No doubt about that. Her raven hair was pulled back in a cascade of curls that fell down her back to her butt. A full-figured woman with a tiny waist, she was bombshell material. Mark could feel the sizzle all the way from where she stood in the courtyard.

  A man walked with her. Mark zeroed in on the man’s face. Who was this guy? The new boss? He had the same dark hair, but short-cropped. He didn’t radiate the same confidence, not the way he followed her as if he worked for her.

  “It took me awhile to find it, but listen to this,” Ember continued excitedly. “Remember the pictures you took inside the hacienda?”

  “I do,” Mark replied as he watched the scene below.

  Alejandra and her male friend were making their way into the rose garden. They appeared to be in earnest conversation. Alejandra was definitely more animated. She used her hands a lot when she spoke and kept glancing over her shoulder at the man behind her.

  “You took a picture of a picture. I almost missed it. In Alejandra’s bedroom, there was a picture on the table beside her bed. Remember?”

  “Sure don’t,” Mark replied. He’d been in a hurry that day and just took the shots he thought would spike Ramirez’s ire the most.

  Alejandra and her escort were now inside the low brick wall surrounding the rose garden. She’d leaned over to smell one of her prized flowers, cupping it gently in the palm of her hand while she lowered her nose into its petals.

  “You want to know who else was in that picture with Mrs. Ramirez?”

  Mark could hear it all the way from Alexandria, Virginia. Ember was gloating. She’d just emphasized Alejandra’s married title.

  Just then the man with the lady in question stepped in close behind her. Real close. He circled her waist with one arm and spun her around to face him. She laughed, her head thrown back in what seemed like pleasure. Mark looked closer. It made no sense that she would be so happy with her home and family overrun by—

  “It’s Javier Quinones,” Ember announced proudly. “That’s who’s in the picture with her.

  Alejandra had just wrapped her arms around the man’s whole head while he buried his face in her neck. Mark’s throat went dry.

  “He about five feet eight? Dark hair? Mustache and scrawny goatee?”

  “Yes. Oh, good. You do remember.”

  “I’m looking right at him,” Mark muttered. A cringe reverberated up his spine at the spectacle of a brother lavishing kisses all over his sister’s neck and bosom. Mark rolled to his back, staring at the faded-blue overhead in disb
elief.

  “Shit,” he growled, not wanting to believe what his eyes had seen. “It’s Javier Quinones.”

  “Mark?” Ember asked quietly in his headset. “I just told you that. What’s going on?”

  “He’s the new cartel boss,” Mark answered, the disgusting sight burned into his memory. Alejandra and Javier’s lip-lock had just given the genre of torrid romance a nasty cold shower.

  “Shit,” he muttered again as he put two and two together. “Ember. My hell. Alejandra and Javier are lovers. They’re the ones killing off everyone loyal to her husband.”

  Mark’s stomach pitched. He rolled back to take another look to confirm. Alejandra and Javier were still at it. He had his hands all over her right there, out in the open for all to see. She didn’t seem to mind because she was just as grabby. Her hands were inside his now open shirt.

  “Wow,” Ember said. “That’s just plain sick.”

  “You have no idea.” Mark’s mind flew to the little girls hidden somewhere inside the hacienda. JayJay’s sweet innocent face flashed to mind. He and his team had to move. Now. “I’m going to send you more video. Need you to work the same magic. Shit. No. Wait.”

  The guards lounging on the porch suddenly snapped to attention. The front door to the hacienda had just burst open. Four guards marched out, and in the middle of them were the two Ramirez daughters with an older woman.

  Mark zeroed in closer. Little Sophia’s sad face came into crystal clear view. Tears ran down her reddened cheeks. Her lips stuck out. Christina gripped her little sister’s chubby hand as a guard rudely shoved them forward. The older woman attempted to comfort them, but one of the guards struck her in the back with the butt of his rifle. She fell to her hands and knees on the brick courtyard. The girls shrieked and ran to her side.

  Rory’s alarmed voice growled through the headset. “Mark? Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

  “Copy that,” Mark replied.

  “What’s going on?” Ember asked. “Are you guys okay?”

  “What do you want me to do?” Cassidy’s disembodied voice chimed into the fray. “I have a clear shot. Tell me who to shoot.”