Guiding Kinley (NCIS Series Book 3)

by Zoe Dawson

  He smiled as if she were already conquered.

  That’s all she needed. She grabbed his wrist, dug her thumb into the apex of his finger and thumb, and twisted hard, forcing his arm and elbow backward. His scream of pain was drowned out by the gunfire and another explosion.

  He reached for her, but Kinley threw her weight into it, lowering him toward the floor. Then she slammed her knee into the side of his head. He dropped like a stone. She stepped back and slashed his throat.

  She tried to ignore the sick feeling at the sight of the blood, but he would have killed her without a thought. “Let’s go.”

  “Where?”

  “I think you know where, Mrs. Costa.”

  Her lips thinned, her eyes going dark with the thought of revenge. “Diego Montoya. Yes, I will help you.”

  They slipped under the flap, the rain obscuring them in the already pitch-black night. Kinley took her hand and they were running full out down the rutted road, kicking up mud and water. She could only hope she didn’t break her stupid ankle, running like this in the dark.

  After going less than a mile, Kinley heard someone coming up on them fast. She pulled Maria into the underbrush.

  Not wanting to give away their position with automatic gunfire, Kinley crouched. The man stopped as if sensing them nearby. Staying perfectly still, barely daring to breathe, she waited, but when he started to methodically check the brush beside the road, she knew she had to…take him out.

  Kinley silently removed the semiautomatic from her back and handed it to Maria, whose eyes grew wide. Then she nodded firmly. Kinley gave her a supportive look and pulled Beau’s knife out of her pants pocket. She unfolded it and crept around behind the guy, giving him a wide berth. Rising, she wasted no time in jumping on his back. She reached around and stabbed the knife into his throat, jerking it.

  With a gurgling sound, he fell and lay still as her stomach twisted and coiled with revulsion, his wet blood rushing over her hand. She pulled the knife out and wiped it on his shirt, folded it and put it back in her pocket, trembling.

  She made her way back to Maria and they were on the run again.

  When they made it to the coupe, Kinley pulled open the back door. “Get in. Hurry,” she said. Beau had to be on his way there. Still reeling and trembling inside from the close-quarters kill, Kinley shoved the keys in the ignition and turned over the engine. She shifted over to the passenger side and rolled down her window. She strained her ears while watching for any movement in the rearview, but she could see nothing. “Oh, God, where is he?”

  Maria was tense, sweat dripping off her chin as Kinley felt her own sweat slide over her skin, her heart still pounding. He said not to worry about him. But that didn’t mean she was leaving this place without him. She wasn’t and he could take those orders and shove them…

  “Miss me?” he asked, materializing right at her window.

  She jumped and reached out and shoved him as he laughed and ran around to the driver’s side. “Got some bad news for you, cher. That last jeep is on its way here. I disabled the other two.” He put the car into gear and stepped on the gas.

  Chapter Sixteen

  He cursed the fate that had led that jeep to do recon right at the time that he wanted to disable all three. At least two were out of commission, along with eight of the twelve guys that had grabbed the woman.

  “This is Dr. Costa’s wife, Beau.”

  His gaze went to the sad and haunted eyes in the rearview. She must have been right there when they killed her husband. “This is Special Agent Beau Jerrott with the Navy Criminal Investigative Service and I’m Special Agent Kinley Cooper with the Coast Guard.”

  “NCIS, like the TV show?” Maria asked, her eyes widening. “I saw it when I was visiting Florida.”

  Beau shook his head. “Oh, man, that show has done more to elevate our profile than our work. Nice to meet you, Mrs. Costa.”

  “Maria, please.”

  He hadn’t missed the blood on Kinley’s hands. “How many did you take out?”

  “Two,” she said, her face grim.

  “That’s ten out of twelve, then,” he said.

  He would have to ask her what happened later, but the dark shadows in her eyes were something he intended to find the time and peace and quiet to soothe.

  “Where exactly are we going?” Kinley asked.

  “As fast and as far away from that jeep as we can get.” He glanced in the rearview and said, “You planning on helping us out, Maria?”

  “Yes, I will help. My husband gave his life to protect mine. It must mean something. Take me to our residence. I know where my husband kept his insurance policy. Diego Montoya is ultimately responsible for getting my husband murdered by those thugs. If he hadn’t forced my sweet Miguel to perform those surgeries to change his appearance, he’d be alive today. He was such a good, good man.” She dropped her head into her hands, sobbing.

  Kinley reached back and squeezed her shoulder and rubbed her arm. “We’re so sorry about what happened.”

  Maria raised her head and wiped at her eyes. “There was nothing you could have done. There are many of them. They breed like vermin.”

  “You okay?” Beau murmured, looking at Kinley.

  She rubbed at her hands and he cringed. She killed tonight, and it looked like it might have been at close quarters. Baptized in blood wasn’t exactly what he’d wanted for her, and he’d dragged her on this mission, manipulated her with that terrorist comment he knew she wouldn’t be able to ignore. He felt like a jerk, but he had no intention of failing on this mission. No NCIS agent or SEAL would ever give up. Orders or not. He didn’t care what the Commandant of the Coast Guard said. He knew what Chris expected of him and it was going to the max and then pushing past that. National security and protecting every man, woman and child in the US was a mission he took seriously. Without even having to ask Kinley, he knew it was her mission, too.

  He reached out and slipped his hand over hers as they twisted in her lap. Her head came up and she curled her fingers around his, sliding her hand up his forearm.

  “I’m so proud and impressed,” he said quietly.

  She squeezed her eyes closed and took a deep breath. “I would never want to let you down.”

  “Couldn’t happen,” he said.

  The bobbing headlights that appeared behind him had him flooring the Mercedes. They were already going way too fast for such a narrow road, the vegetation slapping against the windows as they rushed by. But the Mercedes performed better than he’d hoped in the mud.

  “Hang on, ladies. We have company.”

  It wasn’t long before they hit the blacktop of the main road, but his sharp left had Kinley’s head snapping around.

  “Beau. Havana is the other way.”

  “Well aware, backseat driver,” he muttered as he saw the headlights of the jeep swerve onto the road and gun after them. “Yeah, that’s right, come on, you bastards.”

  Kinley’s hand was clamped to the side door, holding on.

  He’d done a bootleg turn before, but that was in the middle of the bayou, with plenty of space to maneuver. And it had been in a tricked-out Mustang. He’d also been professionally trained, as all agents were, in tactical and dangerous driving. He was booking it, his speed way too high on a slick, rain-washed road. They were hemmed in by a mountain of dirt on one side and a sloping roll into dense jungle on the other.

  He was about to find out if the driver of the jeep had nerves of steel, too.

  He glanced at Kinley. Even with her hair falling down, stuck to her neck and her face, sweaty, dirty, bloody, she turned him on. He wanted her, with her enticing red hair, and those deep green eyes, and that mouth beckoned him every time he looked at it. But if he didn’t start thinking with his head instead of with whatever was going on below the belt, he would get them all killed, and he couldn’t do that because that would mean he wouldn’t get to have her again. And that wasn’t acceptable.

  Finally, he found wha
t he was looking for. The road opened up ahead with a passing lane. It was time to turn the tables. Naw, it was time to flip that table and turn it into a turbocharged bullet.

  “Get down and stay down.” He rolled down the window.

  “What exactly are you planning?” she asked, giving him a wild-eyed look.

  “Powerslide.”

  “What? On this road in these conditions? You are crazy.”

  “Only a little,” he said. “The rest is mad skills. Now get down and hold on.”

  “This is your plan?” Kinley asked, her voice definitely nervous.

  On the fly and in his head, it sounded good. He’d done this many times—pull up on the parking brake, turn opposite the slide while downshifting to ride the controlled drift, until the car snapped around in a 180-degree breakneck maneuver that would spin the car in the other direction. If all went well, he’d full-throttle the coupe from zero to sixty in two seconds flat and power the Mercedes back to Havana.

  Going all out, and getting all in.

  If luck was on their side, the jeep would pass right by them and not even realize it. Best-case scenario.

  He noticed that Maria had followed his order, but Kinley was still looking at him.

  “Kinley, do as I say. Trust me. I’m going balls to the wall. Get ready. Keep that beautiful red head down. If this doesn’t pan out, there’s going to be some shooting, and they’ll be shooting back. Hang on.”

  He pushed the coupe even harder, thundering around the curves, trying to get as many seconds ahead as possible so that the chasing jeep didn’t see him do the bootleg. The acceleration was enough to convince Kinley there was going to be some power sliding happening in just a few seconds. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Kinley duck down.

  “Oh, my God. This is your plan.”

  “Yep, sugar, this is my plan. Hang on!”

  He checked his rearview again, and when he saw no headlights, he worked the clutch and downshifted. Then the white lines of the passing lane started slipping beneath those beautiful, traction-for-days tires, and he executed the maneuver. It was textbook perfect.

  The vehicle spun around, tires screeching, brakes heating. Beau hit the lights and slid her right up against the dirt wall like greased lightning. The car came to a complete stop. All that sounded in the interior was their hard breathing as they all caught their breaths. They skulked on the muddy and slim shoulder of the road, silent and dark, waiting for the jeep to zoom by.

  His heart raced as sweat soaked into the neckline of his shirt and collected beneath his arms. His heart was in his throat, but he didn’t waste a second. He reached for the submachine gun and laid it across the open window. The jeep flew past, a buzz of sound and color.

  He released the brakes working the clutch and rolled the vehicle back onto the road. It was all downhill from here. He punched the lights on and hit the gas. A quarter of a mile later, he swore as another jeep passed them, squealed to a halt and started to turn around. No bootleg for him, just a three-pointer.

  Screw them. Communication must have gone out once Beau and Kinley had assaulted the camp, and they’d called for reinforcements. There would be no quarter if they caught them. None. They’d kill him and Kinley and take Maria again.

  Not friggin’ happening.

  The headlights were soon in his rearview and that other jeep was probably on the way back.

  A spitting, cracking ding, ding, ding and the explosion of the driver’s-side mirror left no doubt in his mind that they were running for their lives. Bits of glass flew as the mirror fragmented, leaving nothing left.

  Ah, hell, they weren’t going to get their deposit back.

  The Crossed Swords cartel was out for blood and the whole group had been alerted. Well, they were going to be very disappointed.

  Beau stomped the gas. Their only hope now was to outrun them, but as Beau came around the next curve, he hit the brakes, fishtailing the Mercedes and sending them all forward as the jeep tapped them from behind. Beau wrestled with the wheel to keep the Mercedes on the road and from rear-ending a freaking outmoded camel bus, a hitched cab and trailer full of people in his lane. A red truck loaded down with produce—pineapples, melons, tomatoes and a starchy plant called malanga—was approaching from the other direction, both of them moving way, way too slowly. Beau braked, swore, braked harder, then swore harder still, then slammed them, shaking the back end of the car violently as he went from bat-out-of-hell ballistic to turtle-slow-as-hell.

  They were dead unless he could get them around this mess and quick. The trucker’s timing sucked. It slowly rumbled forward, blocking off any escape. Kinley raised her head to see what was going on and her face blanched when she saw the scenario and realized they were trapped.

  There was no time to do anything at this point. The Mercedes was rolling way too fast. The jeep crowded his tailpipe and another burst of gunfire ripped into the side of the car. Beau saw the other jeep catching up in the distance.

  Suddenly, Kinley grabbed his semiauto and rolled down the window. Leaning out, she opened up on them, sending the cartel boys ducking. The jeep swerved and dropped back.

  Everything was happening in split seconds. He held the wheel in a death grip, worked the brakes and prayed and cursed at the same time. Just a millisecond from impact, the trucker rolled far enough past the camel bus to create a Hail Mary pass, and Beau grabbed Kinley’s shirt and jerked her back into the vehicle as he shot through. The fit was so tight that the rear lights of the truck went by him less than six inches from his window. The shattered remains of the car’s side mirror were sheared off completely.

  The trucker overreacted and the heavily leaden vehicle skidded, produce flying everywhere, smashing into the windshield of the pursuing jeep and sending them careening and swerving to miss the truck as it slued sideways. The trucker came to a safe stop, but effectively blocked any possible pursuit by the second jeep.

  Beau gunned the Mercedes and put as much real estate between them as they could. As soon as they hit the outskirts of Havana, it started to rain again, a lashing storm that would help to effectively slow down any pursuit. It’d probably keep the cartel boys out of their hair, at least for the night.

  “Do they know who you are, Maria?” Beau asked.

  “Yes, I’m afraid so. When Miguel couldn’t tell them where the pictures of Montoya was, I had to speak.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he didn’t know.” Tears welled, spilling over and down her cheeks, her voice clogged with emotion. “He gave them to me as collateral. That’s why he had to talk to me. He gave me the choice.” She sobbed softly. “I thought I could save his life, but Miguel refused to be used against me. He attacked them and they shot him. They blew up his clinic as a way to show everyone they cannot stand against Las Espasdas.”

  “Where are the pictures?”

  “At our residence, but I refused to tell them anything, so they still don’t know. But they will go to my home and search. I’m sure of it.”

  “They probably have already been there,” Kinley said.

  Beau nodded. “Agreed.”

  “Where do you live, Maria?”

  She gave him her address and directed him. He drove and parked a block over from her house.

  “Tell me where it is, and I’ll go get it.”

  “It’s in a floor safe in my sewing room. The curtain hanger on the farthest window is the release mechanism.” She gave him the combination.

  “Kinley, get in the driver’s seat. Any sign of trouble, you get the hell out of here. Text me if that happens and we’ll rendezvous.”

  “The key is in the planter right beside the front door.”

  He nodded. Before he could get out of the car, she grabbed his arm. “Please, there is a picture of me and my husband on a table in the sewing room. Could you…”

  “Yes. I’ll get it. Do you want anything else? We will have to travel light.” He reached back and grabbed her shoulder. “You’ll have to come with u
s. You know that, right? We can’t leave you here. We can offer you asylum in the US.”

  Her face crumpled and she rubbed over the moisture there. Nodding, she squeezed his forearm. “Thank you for saving me. I have no illusions they would have let me go like they promised. I would have just ended up in some shallow grave.” After a moment, she said, “My passport is in the safe as well as ten thousand American dollars. That’s all I need. We have off-shore accounts and Miguel has provided for me quite diligently.” Her voice caught on a sob.

  Beau exited the car. It was dark and raining hard, the wind plastering his clothes against his skin.

  As he crossed through yards as a direct route to her house, he could see there was no need for a key. The front door was open and when he got inside, it was trashed. Their belongings strewn everywhere. Most of the valuable stuff was already looted.

  He searched and found her sewing room, hurrying. It might be dark and stormy, but he couldn’t be sure they wouldn’t come back or had paid one of her neighbors to watch out for activity here.

  Using the face of his phone to light the way, he found the curtain hanger and pulled straight down. He heard the release and swung his phone that way, crouching to minimize the illumination.

  He flashed the light and quickly worked the combination until it snicked open. He grabbed a brown folder and pulled it out. Opening it, he saw that it was the information they needed. He took pictures with his phone and sent them to Chris. He reached in and grabbed the money and Maria’s passport. Lastly, he located the photo she had described. The glass was broken. With a quick trip to the kitchen, he found a plastic baggie and slipped the brown folder and the frame inside and zipped it closed.

  Tucking everything under his shirt and into the waistband of his jeans, he headed back out into the rain, staying low.

  Back at the car, Kinley moved over as Beau knocked on the window and slipped back inside.

  Pulling out the package from his waistband, he handed everything to Kinley, who stowed it into a small backpack.