A Ryan Weller Box Set Books 1 - 3

by Evan Graver

  Ryan spoke for the group. “This isn’t our concern.”

  “Actually, it is,” Kilroy said. “You’re wanted men and wanted men don’t have a lot of choices. Killing Guerrero stopped his war, but it opened a whole new can of worms for you. Not only do you have a two-million-dollar bounty on your heads, you’re being chased by every two-bit bounty hunter from here to Russia. Look at the guy who attacked us last night, Volk was it? Let me help you out, a little quid pro quo.”

  “Don’t listen to this asshat, Ryan,” Mango said.

  Kilroy smiled. “Asshat, I like it. I’m going to have to use that one.”

  “Be my guest,” Mango said sarcastically.

  “But to the point, Ryan,” Kilroy said. “You should listen to me. I’m helping you out. I’m offering protection. Go to Haiti and stop Toussaint Bajeux’s coup and I’ll get Orozco to lift the bounty.”

  “Damn, you’re narcissistic,” Mango muttered.

  Kilroy held up a hand. “I know you think I’m full of myself, but I can make this work. I’ve dealt with Orozco before and he responds to money, coke, and guns. I can provide two out of three.

  He wants to expand his cartel’s sphere of influence. I can help him achieve his goals, a little firepower, a little cash in the proper hands.” Kilroy waggled his hand side to side.

  Mango fidgeted in his chair and glanced at Ryan before asking, “You can really get the bounty erased?”

  “Yes.” Kilroy was emphatic.

  “Why us?” Ryan asked. “Other than the bounty. Don’t you have a bunch of interchangeable mercs?”

  The arms dealer rolled his eyes. “Believe it or not, my operation is relatively small.” His mouth took on a grim set. “Darren was a competent employee, and while I’m sorry he’s dead, I find this an opportunity I can’t pass up. You have connections to the DHS and the U.S. government, do you not?”

  Mango glared at Jim. “Why don’t you take it?”

  Jim shook his head and gave Mango a half smile, a gesture that lifted only one side of his lips. “I don’t handle the merchandise.”

  “What do you want with our contacts?” Greg asked.

  Kilroy said, “I want you to tell the DHS about the shipment when it gets to Haiti.”

  “Let me get this straight.” Ryan removed an unlit cigarette from his mouth. “You want us to collect payment, then call in the DHS, or whoever else, to seize the weapons?”

  Kilroy smiled and spread his hands. “Exactly.”

  “This is nuts,” Mango said. “Let’s go and take our chances on the bounty.” He started to get up from his chair.

  Ignoring Mango, Kilroy stared across the table at Ryan. “Why did you go after Guerrero?”

  Ryan tilted his head back in thought. When he looked back at Kilroy, he said, “I went after him because he was a disease that needed to be eliminated. He was a threat to the security of the United States and as long as he was allowed to walk around, he would continue his plans to destroy parts or all of the Southwest to achieve his objectives. I couldn’t allow that to happen. Just like I can’t allow you to keep delivering weapons. Some men just need killing.”

  Kilroy clutched his sides as he let out a deep, loud belly laugh. After a moment, he took several deep breaths to calm himself and wipe a tear from his red face. “That’s funny.”

  Ryan glared at Kilroy.

  Mango and Greg stared at Ryan.

  Kilroy took a drink and set his glass back on the table. His roving gaze covered all three men before stopping on Ryan. “I do the work of the Lord and the U.S. government. Some would say it’s one and the same. Your personal vendetta doesn’t bother me one bit. I’ve had men like you come after me, yet here I am.” He spread his arms out wide. “I want you to use that same thinking when it comes to Toussaint Bajeux. He’s an enemy of his people, a wolf in sheep’s clothing, so he can become a ruthless dictator. He needs to be put down just like you put down Guerrero. Use your patriotic fervor and zeal and make it happen.” Kilroy leaned onto the table. “Just make sure I get my gold first.”

  Undisguised animosity crawled across Ryan’s face. His lips turned down and his brows furrowed, making his eyes narrow slits. Anger burned hot on his skin. Kilroy had read him like a book and was using his loyalties and his connections against him. Ryan knew the bounty wouldn’t be rescinded. It was just a ploy to lull them into helping. Kilroy could collect his gold and cap it with a two-million-dollar bonus. Screw this guy! Ryan thought. I’m going to sink his ship, kill him, and steal his gold.

  Kilroy stared impassively into Ryan’s eyes. “What’s it going to be, frogman?”

  “This is stupid!” Mango exclaimed.

  “I’ve given you the carrot. Now I’ll give you the stick.” Kilroy pulled his Smith and Wesson from his waistband and laid it on the table. “With one phone call I can become two million dollars richer.”

  Ryan looked at the gun. As soon as Kilroy had taken his hand off it, he’d lost the advantage. He could be over the table delivering strikes to Kilroy’s face before the man could wrap his fingers around the grip again.

  Kilroy looked up at Mango. “Your wife, Jennifer, lives on your sailboat at DWR, and she works at Mainland Medical Center in Texas City.” Jim pointed at Ryan. “Your girlfriend, Emily Hunt, works for Ward and Young in Tampa, Florida.” To Greg, he said. “Shelly Hughes is not only the COO of your company, she’s your girlfriend. To top it off, your sister, Anna, is a graphics design artist with her own company in Galveston.”

  Greg fixed his icy stare on the international arms dealer. “Are you threatening me?”

  Kilroy came to his feet, placed his hands on the table, and rested his upper body on them. “Yes, I’m threatening you, Greg Olson. I’m threatening your family, and I’m threatening your friends’ families. There isn’t a damned thing you can do about it. You’re a cripple riding on your buddies’ coattails.”

  Greg’s gray eyes didn’t move from Kilroy’s, but his face flushed with anger. “You’re a genuine, grade-A asshole, Kilroy.”

  Ryan sipped some water and watched Greg’s red face. He knew Jim was pressing Greg’s buttons, and he’d done an excellent job. Ryan didn’t want to deliver the weapons either, but he had to keep his friends safe, and stop the shipment. Maybe he was just selfish, but he wanted to preserve his own life.

  “What do we need to do?” Ryan asked.

  Kilroy grinned. “I knew you were the smart one.”

  “Wait,” Mango exclaimed. “You want to do this?”

  “It’s not my first choice.” Ryan shrugged. If he could stop the shipment, end the bounty, and prevent a Haitian revolution, then he would be Kilroy’s envoy.

  “It’s not a choice at all,” Greg said. “No deal, Killer Roy, you said yourself you don’t have many resources and I can get protection for the girls before you can act on your threats.”

  “Greg,” Kilroy said condescendingly. “I know you want to ride along with your friends and be part of the action, but I’m telling you that you have no say in the matter. The decision is Ryan and Mango’s.”

  “What do you think, Karen?” Greg asked. “Do you think your husband is capable of the violence he threatens?”

  She shifted in her seat, glancing between her husband and the other men at the table.

  “Do you think he can get to our families before I can get to your mother?” Greg asked her.

  Karen’s eyes widened, and her mouth formed a tight circle.

  Kilroy reached for the gun. Ryan beat him to it, snatching it away by the barrel before Kilroy’s hand was halfway there. He pressed the muzzle to Kilroy’s forehead. Kilroy stood stock still, eyes riveted to Ryan’s finger gently squeezing the trigger.

  Karen shrieked and threw her hands over her mouth.

  Kilroy held his hands up in surrender and started to laugh.

  “What’s so funny?” Mango asked.

  The arms dealer said through a wide smile, “You think you have a choice.”

  “Everything’s
a choice,” Ryan said. He dropped the magazine from the pistol, racked the slide, and ejected the bullet. He set the gun on the table in front of Kilroy. “Your threats are as empty as that gun.”

  Kilroy laughed again, picked up the pistol, and pulled a new magazine from his pocket. He slammed it home and depressed the lock to let the slide snap a fresh round into the chamber. “Alfred A. Montapert once said, ‘Nobody ever did, or ever will, escape the consequences of his choices.’”

  Mango said, “That includes you.”

  “Yes, you’re correct. I will pay for my sins, but I’ll be able to pay for them in gold when you finish this deal. This concludes the negotiations.” Kilroy aimed the pistol at Ryan. “You have no choice.”

  Greg leaned forward, his voice was low and deep, “I said, no.”

  Jim looked over his shoulder and called loudly, “Comacho.”

  Ryan recognized the short man with a massive purple and yellow bruise on the side of his neck. His lower lip was puffy and the skin around his jaw shaded with blacks and blues. A second man in a black police uniform stepped into the room. Both held leveled M16s on their hips.

  “These gentlemen are here to escort you to Mexico,” Kilroy said.

  Comacho rasped out, “Vamonous, pendejos.” Let’s go, assholes.

  “Seriously, this again,” Mango moaned.

  “Okay.” Ryan held his hands up. “We’ll deliver the shipment.” He didn’t want to be tortured or killed by a crazy Mexican drug lord. He’d promised Emily he’d come home safe. More important, he had to keep her safe.

  Kilroy was offering to put him on the delivery vessel, a chore he believed he would have to do clandestinely. This was a means to an end; stop the shipment, stop Kilroy, keep their families safe. If he took down Kilroy, it would prevent him from putting more weapons into the hands of an already dangerous cartel, but it would also prevent him from negotiating an end to the bounty. Choices.

  “Excellent.” Turning to Comacho, Kilroy said, “Take these men to my ship.”

  “Si, jefe,” Comacho said.

  “I’d like to get some gear from our boat first,” Ryan said as he slowly stood.

  “I’ll accompany you.” Kilroy said.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  On Dark Water’s bridge, Greg Olsen watched Northwest Passage motor toward the horizon. He slammed his hand down on the fiberglass console and ripped off a string of curse words like he was revving a chainsaw.

  After leaving the restaurant, Comacho and Kilroy had accompanied Greg, Ryan, and Mango to Dark Water. Ryan and Mango had collected clothes and dive gear. Comacho searched them thoroughly for weapons before allowing them to leave the vessel. They’d loaded the RIB onto the foredeck of the Hatteras and helped Greg retrieve the anchor.

  Greg turned on the computer tablet mounted on Dark Water’s dash and used the internet browser to open marinetracker.com. He keyed in the name of Jim Kilroy’s ship. The website did not find an icon for Northwest Passage. Greg slapped the console again and used his broad knowledge of curse words to utter several oaths.

  He picked up his satellite phone and dialed Floyd Landis’s number. While listening to the phone ring on the other end, he drummed his fingers on the console.

  “Landis.”

  “It’s Greg Olsen. Darren Parsons is dead, and Kilroy is forcing Ryan and Mango to make the weapons shipment for him.”

  “What do you mean by force?”

  “Apparently, the new head of the Aztlán cartel has issued a two-million-dollar bounty for Ryan and Mango. Kilroy is threatening to turn them in if they don’t comply. He’s also threatened Jennifer, Emily, Shelly, and my sister.”

  “I’ve heard rumors about the bounty. I’ll have security put on your sister, Jennifer, and Emily. I assume you can handle Shelly.”

  “Yes. Jennifer is at DWR headquarters. There’s already security there, whatever good an unarmed guard is? I’ll contact Anna and let her know what’s going on.”

  “I’ll have your security beefed up,” Landis promised. “We tracked the men who attacked the three of you in Texas City to a Russian named Grigory Dmitri Morozov, otherwise known as Volk.”

  Greg cut him off. “He’s the one who attacked the resort.”

  “Okay. Do you know where Kilroy is taking Ryan and Mango?”

  “Cap-Haïtien, Haiti. Some dude named Toussaint Bajeux is paying for guns with gold. Kilroy says he can get the bounty called off if they do the delivery. He wants them to load the gold first and then let you come raid the shipment and stop Bajeux from starting a coup.”

  “How did he expect us to stop the weapons shipment?”

  With one hand pressing the phone to his ear, Greg held up an arm in an exaggerated shrug. “Call Larry Grove and have him bring his SEALs like last time.”

  “I don’t think that’ll fly,” Landis said. “Not in Haitian waters with the UN contingency there.”

  “What should we do?”

  “After Ryan’s Mexican debut, I’m pretty sure he can handle himself.”

  “We’re on our own?” asked Greg.

  “I’ll see what I can do,” Landis said. “But I can’t make any promises. Kilroy has protection inside the government. I told Ryan that when he started on this witch hunt. My hands might be tied.”

  “You’re kidding me. You can’t call the Coast Guard and have them intercept the shipment before it gets to Haiti?”

  “I’ll see what I can do. What about communications with Ryan?”

  “He’s incommunicado.”

  “Nothing? No sat phone?”

  “No … I’m an idiot,” Greg exclaimed. “He has a tracker with him. If he turns it on, we can get a fix on his location.”

  “What kind of tracker, Greg?”

  “He has something new hidden in a cigarette pack.” Greg keyed the website into the tablet to pull up the tracker.

  After a few minutes of silence, Greg said, “I’ll send you the website and password, so you can keep track of what’s going on for yourself.”

  “Are you on the site right now?”

  “Yes,” Greg replied. He studied the tracker website. “He doesn’t have it on.”

  “You need to hightail it out of Caye Caulker. If Volk finds out you’re still there, he’ll come after you.”

  “We came to that conclusion as well.”

  “What’re your plans?”

  “I’m running to Jamaica. I’ll get fuel and hang around until Ryan sends me a message.”

  “Take care, Greg, and let me know as soon as you hear something.”

  “Will do.”

  Greg shoved the throttles forward, feeling the big boat come up on plane. The bow sliced through the small waves as he ran from trouble.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  After leaving Caye Caulker onboard Jim Kilroy’s vessel, they’d sailed for Nicaragua. Kilroy’s operations went mostly unchecked in the Central American countries, which were the equivalent of the Wild West of arms trafficking. Kilroy was no stranger to Nicaragua, having started his career in the small country by providing weapons to the Contra rebels fighting the communist Sandinista government. He then partnered with the CIA to move guns from the United States to Nicaragua in exchange for ferrying cocaine into Los Angeles.

  When the Iran-Contra scandal broke in Washington, the politicians had hunted for prominent scapegoats and settled on Oliver North, leaving the grunts on the ground to continue their work. The CIA kept Jim employed, moving guns around the Caribbean basin until the politics had again gotten too hot, and they dropped him. He became a wanted criminal while continuing to funnel weapons, explosives, bullets, rockets, and missiles to any rebel force or government willing to pay his fees.

  The War on Terror changed the playing field and Jim was back in the good graces of the CIA. He shipped guns to Iraq and Afghanistan to arm their bourgeoning armies and even bid on contracts to supply new weapons to U.S. troops. While most of his weapons contracts were now legitimate, he still sold guns under the table
.

  For these illegal shipments, he used an aged, rusty freighter named Santo Domingo. Captain Santiago Guzmán waited with the Santo Domingo in a small channel in the Escondido River estuary, near the town of Bluefields. The vessel was anonymous among the local shipping traffic and town made for a convenient rendezvous spot.

  Kilroy left Northwest Passage at a commercial dock in Bluefields for refueling. He, Mango, and Ryan piled into his center console fishing boat to make the run to the Santo Domingo. There, Kilroy introduced them to the captain before he had a private conversation with the first mate, a hulking Latino bruiser named, Oso⸻Spanish for Bear.

  On his way off the Domingo, Kilroy lingered by the ladder with Ryan and Mango. “Oso is my eyes and ears on this ship. He’ll make sure you stick to the straight and narrow. He has my number on speed dial. You make a wrong move and I’ll know about it.” He waggled his finger. “Remember, I know where your women sleep at night.”

  Then he dropped down the ladder to the waiting center console.

  “Bastard,” Ryan said as Kilroy roared off.

  “What now?” Mango asked.

  “We need to get a message to Greg. The transmitter only works with a clear view of the sky. It’ll take a minute or two to align with the satellites.”

  “That means someone will have to distract our minder.”

  “Correct.” Ryan glanced in the direction of the first mate, who watched them from the bridge wing. “Once we’re underway, we can see what the schedule’s like. Then we can look for a hole to exploit.”

  The two Americans spent the next few days observing the ship’s company routine, but either Oso or one of his lackeys kept them under constant observation. To stave off boredom, Ryan and Mango did pushups, pull-ups, and jumping jacks. To substitute for running, they fashioned jump ropes from scraps of discarded line. In the corner of the galley, they picked through the thriller novels, smut magazines, and catalogs in what constituted the ship’s library. Ryan began sunning himself on one of the cargo hatch covers.