Counter Strike

by Beth Rhodes

  “He will pay.” Tio’s frosty words were no comfort.

  Was she supposed to jump in and be a part of his evil plan? Was it evil, if it saved lives? Silenced by her current predicament, she glanced out the window as they stopped in front of the entrance to the compound.

  Is this what Jamie faced every time he went out on assignment? Did he kill when necessary? She knew he had. She’d felt his grief and regret when he hugged her, experienced his pain when they touched.

  Clouds gathered to the south, like a storm brewing, like an omen of what was to come.

  He wasn’t going to make it. You don’t want him to make it! Fear gripped her. She didn’t want to die, didn’t want anyone to die. “Please,” she begged.

  Her uncle pushed a button on a communication unit that stuck up out of the ground about ten feet in front of the gate and just an arm’s reach from Tio’s window. Static answered him, followed by a small beeping sound.

  Tio Antonio frowned and glanced ahead at the entry to the compound.

  The gate began to open, a slow, tortuous grating of metal against metal.

  Her throat went dry. Her hands shook, and she slowly reached for the handle. She was not going in without a fight.

  An explosion rocked the wall in front of the vehicle and shook the ground, blinding her. Missy screamed and covered her head. Her door swung open. She grabbed for the center console, even as hands took her by the hips. “Tio!”

  Her uncle reached for her, but she slipped out of his hands. She hands slid and grappled for purchase of the seat, but only snatched her bag as larger, stronger hands dragged her out of the vehicle and tossed her roughly into a shoulder hold.

  Pain shot through her side, and she fought, throwing an elbow into the side of her captor’s head and pounding at his back beneath her.

  Like hell, if she was going to leave the illusion of safety her uncle provided for the unknown of a Mexican kidnapping.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jamie’s heart froze at the sound of her scream.

  “Missy,” he said, speaking sharply.

  She went still and quiet at the sound of his voice.

  He hadn’t expected her to fight him. Stupid. His head rang, but he kept moving. He needed distance. Her hold tightened at his back.

  Three blocks from the gated entrance, with an arm secured around her, he lowered her to the ground and took her chin in his hand.

  “Shit.” Anger balled in his gut at the sight of the bruising on her face. Her eyes were unfocused and filled with a mix of fear and determination. “Missy,” he said her name again, just to say it.

  She threw her arms around him and kissed his face. A sob broke from her. “Oh, my God,” she sucked in a breath, looking behind them, “We need to move. My uncle—”

  “Uncle? I thought your uncle was dead.”

  “Apparently not.”

  “Come on. John left a car.”

  He took them down one street and up another, keeping a steady pace but trying not to attract attention either. When they reached the car, Jamie opened the passenger door and ducked his head in. Keys in the ignition.

  Jamie touched his earpiece. It buzzed in his ear. He pulled the unit out. It had a crack down the side. “Damn.”

  She’d really gotten him good with her elbow shot.

  “You’re bleeding,” she said.

  He wiped at the cut on his ear. “No biggie. Let’s go.”

  “What about John?” A touch of worry and uncertainty rang through her words.

  Jamie scanned the area again. There was no one in sight. Not even a local. “He’ll meet us at the rendezvous.”

  He held the door for Missy.

  Once she was in the car, he closed her door and went around to the driver’s side. As he turned the car on, a window in the building down the street opened. A head came out then retracted an instant later. People were watching.

  He started the car. “How many men were with you.”

  “Only my uncle.”

  “Your uncle kidnapped you. He works for Martinez?”

  “Sort of,” she answered.

  “Sort of.” The fact that it was her uncle who had left those marks on her face… “Not ‘sort of.’ He does.”

  “If he hadn’t come for me, someone else from the cartel would have.”

  “How decent of him.” Maybe he should be thankful. He didn’t want to think if it really had been someone else. “Didn’t stop him from bringing you to Martinez’s doorstep, though.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “What for?” He kept his eyes on the road in front of them. Shit, he was such a mess inside.

  “You’re mad.”

  “No,” he said, almost laughing at how tightly he was wound. He blew out a breath. Focused, stressed, anxious… God, he would kill to touch her right now. “I’m not mad. I’m trying to keep it together, Missy.”

  The Jeep shuddered under them, and he pressed in the clutch to shift down into third gear.

  “Where are we headed?”

  “Nina’s.”

  The road narrowed ahead, and he kept his eyes peeled, stepping on the gas to push them forward. A quick glance her way showed her eyes closed. They rose up the hill and rattled through potholes and ruts, as they drove through the city, heading south and west.

  It was taking some concentration to keep the broken, old vehicle going.

  “You shouldn’t have come for me,” she finally said after what seemed like forever.

  “Like hell.” His hand gripped the gear shifter.

  She turned to stare out the window. “This place. Why does it always bring the worst to my life?”

  He relaxed and set his hand on her knee, giving it a squeeze.

  He rounded the next corner and shifted to pull off to the right down a barely visible lane. The vehicle hit another rut, bouncing her in the seat. “Sorry,” he said about the ride and the sad ache in her voice. “I wish it was different. I wish we were here for a nice vacation to visit your family.”

  She took a breath and blew it out slowly. Something about her concentration had a red flag waving through his brain. “You okay?” The somewhat greenish pale of her face had him shifting down one more time and slowing. “Missy?”

  When the car bumped into another pothole, he growled and gave the Jeep enough gas to get them back up onto a smooth stretch of road.

  “No.” But even that one word sounded off. “Jamie,” she said, on a moan.

  Alarm had his foot coming off the gas, had his heart pounding. “What?”

  “Pull over.”

  He swerved sharply and braked as quickly as he could, just short of throwing her across the front seat. He’d barely stopped, and she was out the door.

  ***

  The world spun beneath her as she dropped to her knees; her hands planted on the sharp rocks at the side of the road. The stomach spasms kept coming until she couldn’t breathe.

  And then her hair was pulled back off her neck and away from her face, and the vomiting finally eased. Tears ran down her face, and she spit. Spit again. A water bottle appeared in front of her. Resting back on her feet, she took it and swished a sip around in her mouth before spitting one last time.

  Sweat dripped down her temples, and her hands shook as she sat back on her heels and found herself leaning against Jamie’s crouched position behind her. He brushed the damp hair from her face. He half lifted her, moved away from ground zero, and sat his butt on the curb with her still between his legs.

  Missy closed her eyes and rested her head back, loving the solid presence of him behind her. She didn’t want him to be here, but she really wanted him to be here.

  He wiped at her tears with his thumb and kissed the top of her head. “How long have you been sick?”

  “Started a few days ago. I must have picked something up from the kids at school.”

  He turned her chin up to look into her eyes with that frown of doubt and worry.

  She shrugged. “Can take
a few days for all those germs to get really useful,” she joked, already feeling better. When she moved to get up, Jamie didn’t object and helped her stand. Her first couple steps were wobblier than she expected. “Sure wish I had a mint.”

  He wrapped an arm around her waist and leaned her against the vehicle. With her eyes closed, she took a deep breath. The door next to her opened. She peered through one eye and saw Jamie lean in, open the glove box, and pull out a rattle?

  He opened his hand in front of her. Two white TicTacs sat in the center of his palm.

  “Boy scout,” she teased.

  “You’re not the first one to throw up on an assignment.”

  Missy took the mints and popped them both in her mouth.

  “Something’s going around.” Jamie massaged her shoulders then tipped her chin up with his thumbs. He dragged a thumb across the soft skin under her eyes. “Sleeping enough?”

  “Some. Having dreams again.”

  He winced. “Oh, babe.” He reached for her, wrapped a warm hand around the back of her neck, and massaged.

  All along, she’d known he would come, but there had been a moment when she’d believed it was too late to save her. Her trust ran deep—usually.

  This felt different. Because she would have done anything to keep him from coming.

  “You really shouldn’t be here.”

  “We’re not circling back around to beat a dead horse,” he answered.

  She bit at her lip, her thoughts splintering on the what’s next. “Martinez wanted my mother,” she finally said. And being back in this town had revived some of those old feelings of wanting to save the world, or at least, her people. Would Martinez ever quit? Was Tio Antonio right in making sure to control the damage?

  Even on the short drive to the compound, she’d seen what his authority had meant for the poor community surrounding the estate. “That’s why my father left Veracruz originally. He took my mother, and they left to raise me away from the cartel and away from Martinez. And that’s when the killing started.”

  “Now Martinez wants you?”

  “I’m his second chance.” She grinned. “Isn’t that nice?”

  Jamie clenched his jaw. “He’ll have a hard time taking you from me,” he stated, no quip, no joke, no tone. Serious yet sympathetic eyes, too. “It wouldn’t have mattered, Missy. If not your mother than someone else. These kind of men don’t rise in power without showing they are in control—of everything.”

  “I know that in my head.” But what if she could find those photos? What if she could help? Maybe things happened for a reason. Not just Martinez’s second chance, hers. Her chance to take a stand. “Thank you for coming for me.”

  “Even though you think I shouldn’t be here?”

  She chuckled. “Yeah.”

  He stepped back, scanned her—probably for signs of more illness—and must have found her ready. “Time to move.”

  But she hesitated. “I don’t think I can go with you.”

  Jamie held the door open, didn’t speak, just pressed his lips together and took a slow breath in, then released it. “Is it your uncle? The team can rescue your uncle. After you’re safely home.”

  “No,” she gripped his arm. “Not my uncle. He can take care of himself.”

  “Then what, Missy?”

  “I—I—” She stumbled over the words—no, hesitated over them. “I think I need to stay and put an end to the past’s hold on my life. I want to be free.”

  He stilled. Even his breathing seemed to stop. “How?”

  A simple question, sure, but one, which switched her defense mode on like nothing had in a very long time. They’d become two easy-going, nonconfrontational individuals. He did his thing. She did hers. “I’m not sure yet, but I have to find those photos. At least try to help my uncle put an end to Martinez.”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  His nudge had her elbow coming up, but he gently took her arm. “Get in. We can talk on the way to your grandmother’s. We’ll check in with the team. Make a decision as a team.”

  She wasn’t used to working with his team. A sigh escaped, and she leaned her head back. Jamie’s glance in the rearview reminded her they weren’t too far from the compound yet. Within minutes, he was putting miles between them and Tio and Martinez.

  “I don’t understand what your uncle planned to do,” Jamie asked, and there was a tone of exasperation, as if he wanted to understand.

  “To use me,” she answered, and then added, “and protect me. When he keeps Martinez happy, people don’t get hurt. Martinez wants me. And Tio knew that if anyone else came for me, I would not be protected. Apparently, Tio Antonio never knew I was alive.”

  “So, he’s just going to keep you available for—what?” Jamie breathed a harsh breath. “I mean, come on, Missy.”

  Missy shrugged. “Antonio has plans to end Martinez’s grip on their town.”

  Jamie looked over at her then took another turn, getting further and further from the compound. “He’ll have to kill Martinez.”

  She frowned. “He never said anything about killing anyone.”

  He hesitated with a shrug, reminding her that they weren’t equals, and…just maybe he didn’t think of her as he would a teammate. She wasn’t part of the team. “Talk, damn it,” she said. “I’m an adult.”

  “Think about it. If your uncle had wanted him dead, it wouldn’t have taken a rocket scientist to do the job in the last ten years. Why hasn’t he done it already?”

  “Martinez is constantly being protected.”

  “People turn, especially when that much power is at stake.”

  Frustration knocked sharply against her breastbone. “What are you suggesting?”

  Jamie shifted through a turn. Missy kept her gaze on the road ahead of them, hoping to keep the motion sickness down.

  “That’s a lot of power to displace without a plan for where it will go.”

  “You think Tio Antonio wants to take over?” She laughed this time. “The one who can barely say no to his mother?”

  “But I bet he did to get you,” he interjected.

  She bit at her lip. “He wants revenge. And I want to help him.”

  “No.”

  “There are people—”

  “Missy,” he said, his hands white knuckled on the steering wheel.

  “Martinez needs to be stopped.”

  “And you need to stop him? Now, after all these years?”

  The road rumbled under them, but the way was much smoother now, and she was grateful for that, at least. “I don’t know. I just feel like I should have done something all those years ago.”

  “You left because Martinez burned down your father’s house. You left with blistered feet and bruises over your body. You left because if you had stayed, you would have died.”

  “Maybe I should have died!”

  Silence exploded around them.

  “Jesus, Missy,” Jamie whispered.

  A tear streaked down her face, and she brushed at it. “I’m sorry. I can’t mean that.” God, her nose ran. Her insides were twisting up.

  She didn’t mean it, but she was damn tired of hiding. A hiccup escaped.

  “Don’t cry.”

  “I’m not going to hide if I can help.” She wiped at her face with shaky hands. “Not this time. I must ask Nina about those photos.”

  He took her hand, entwined their fingers, and set them both in his lap. It wasn’t agreement, but it was comfort. She understood that. After all these years, she knew how Jamie worked. He would do anything to protect her, even from herself.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “You have my word. I will get her back.” Antonio didn’t have to fake his displeasure at the turn of events. He had men tracking Missy and Jamie. Jamie was back in Mexico. She’d said he would come. He’d hoped the man had better sense.

  But just like his brother Diego had all those years ago, Jamie had proved his weakness—a woman.

  C
old eyes stared at him from behind the large desk. Martinez rose from the ornately carved chair, braced his hands on the smooth, clean surface, and spoke, “This is all that matters.”

  Instead of fear, rage poured through Antonio. Another fool!

  “You have never failed me, Güero.”

  “I will not do so now,” Antonio said. “Get to your campaign rally this afternoon. Don’t let one woman stop your efforts. You’ve worked too hard. Think about all of the good you will be able to do once you are in a position of authority—as governor.”

  “Find the grandmother, Gianina Fuentes.” The aggravation and tension seemed to leave Martinez, even as he spoke, but Antonio’s shot through the roof.

  “I—” Ay Dios. “She is still alive?”

  Martinez dug through his desk draw. “There have been rumors over the years about this old woman. It is time to put those rumors to rest. If Carmen is back, then she would connect with Gianina. Find them both. Bring them to me.”

  Antonio forced calm through his body, even as the heat of knowledge started deep in his core. Carmen, not Marguerite. A Freudian slip? Or the first signs that Martinez was losing his mind?

  The man lifted an old yellowed piece of paper and handed it over. “Start here. It has been many years, too many years, since I have dug into the past. I do not know if she is alive.”

  On the paper in scrawled handwriting was an address, his mother’s. “Thank you, sir. I will look into this.”

  “Today.”

  He nodded. “Very well. This afternoon.” He bowed slightly and backed out of the office.

  Turning quickly, he hurried down the hall.

  If he was discovered, as the formerly dead son of Gianina Fuentes, all would be lost.

  He might as well throw his entire career away, throw away the lives of the very people he was trying to protect. He had never been able to silence his mother before. To do so now…to sacrifice one old woman for the many would make him no better than the man he was up against.

  No. He must find Marguerite instead.

  He pulled open the door to his office.

  Juan jumped up from his small desk in the corner. “Sir.”