by Karen Kelley
"I had to pull a lot of strings to get the information, but yes, we have everything you requested. He uses a lot of aliases. They call him Breaker, but his real name is Emeric Trahan. For some reason, he doesn’t use his father’s name. His mother was French Cajun, and his father is from Tennessee. Breaker joined the Army when he was seventeen. He’s Special Forces, Marco. A real badass. This is no lightweight we’re dealing with."
Marco strode to the bar and poured a shot of tequila, quickly downing it. "I do not care what he is. I want the man found," he said without turning around. "Where is he right now?"
"He also owns a bar in Louisiana."
"And he is there?"
"Yes."
"Is Savannah with him?"
"As soon as I found out where he was, I sent the closest man to make sure he was there. Yes, Savannah is with him. They're staying in the apartment above the bar."
He squeezed his glass in his fist. "Are you saying they're living together?"
"It looks that way. What do you want Carlos to do?"
"Nothing. Tell him to hang back and watch them. I want to know if they leave. Get the cars ready. We're going to Louisiana."
For the moment, Francesco and the destroyed shipments took a backseat. He would deal with Francesco and their clients later. Right now, getting Savannah back was more important. That, and revenge. No one made a fool out of him. No one!
Chapter Twenty-Five
When Breaker’s phone began to ring, he glanced at the screen. Carter stared back at him. He put him on speakerphone and then laid his phone on his desk. "What do you have?"
"My man on the inside tells me Marco is headed east, toward Louisiana. He also said he's furious. Francesco called him earlier today. He gave him an ultimatum this time. Make everything right or else.”
Breaker laughed. "I bet that pissed him off."
"I'll get the team together, and we'll head toward Louisiana. You might want to find a hiding place until we get there. Oh, and watch your back. I think he has a man in the area. You'll have to lose him."
"Stay in Texas for now."
There was a slight pause, then Carter continued. "My man on the inside said Marco left with two carloads of his men. They were heavily armed. I know you're damned good, but I'm not sure you’re that good."
Breaker came to his feet and stretched his back, then rested his palms on his desk and leaned forward. "Except I'm not going to fight him here. I'll make sure he knows exactly where I'm going."
"You didn't hit your head or anything, did you?" Carter asked.
Breaker laughed again. "I don't think so. But I grew up in the Louisiana swamp."
"You're thinking about going into the swamp?"
"Exactly."
"There are alligators in the swamp. And snakes. Have I ever told you I don't like reptiles of any kind?"
"Don't worry. I still have family who live there. That's the safest place I can take Savannah. I'll make Marco wish he'd never come after her."
"I almost feel sorry for the guy."
They spoke for a few more minutes, and then he ended the call. When he looked up, Savannah was standing in the doorway. How the hell had she walked up on him without him knowing—again? Maybe he was losing his touch.
"You heard?"
"Just the end. Marco's coming after us." She rubbed her arms as if there was a sudden chill in the room. He knew she was scared, even though she tried to hide it. All she knew about Marco was that he was evil.
"I'll keep you safe," he told her.
"I know."
He didn't think she did know. Not really. But he would keep her safe. There was no way he would let Marco touch her again.
"Pack your backpack. We might be gone for a while—only the essentials. I'll do the same. I'll let Angie and the others know what's going on."
She didn't say anything else, only turned and left his office. He knew she would go straight upstairs and pack whatever she might need. He only hoped they weren’t going to be gone for very long.
He picked up his phone and called Angie. She, in turn, would call everyone else and tell them they were now on paid vacation until he told them it was safe to return, otherwise, they were to stay away from the bar.
Breaker started out of his office, but at the last moment, he stopped. A slow smile curved his lips. He grabbed a piece of copy paper and a felt tip marker. He was still smiling as he drew a map, then put an X in two places. On one, he wrote, Bad guys here. On the other, he wrote Good guys here. Come get us if you think you're man enough. Otherwise, get the fuck out of Louisiana.
He was still chuckling as he carefully folded the paper and put it in a business-sized envelope, then sealed it. On the outside of the envelope he wrote, Marco. He searched in his desk drawer until he found a thumbtack.
After he locked the front door, he stuck the envelope on it with the thumbtack. He was still grinning as he jogged up the stairs to the apartment. Right before he opened the door, he covertly scanned the area. His gaze stopped on the black SUV, partially hidden by trees. It looked out of place.
At least now he would know who was following them. He wanted to make sure he didn't lose the vehicle. He opened the door and went inside to grab his things.
Savanna was standing beside the sofa in the living room. He wondered if she knew that she was twining her fingers together. He didn't blame her for being nervous. Marco had tortured her for too many years. He didn't blame her for being scared, either.
He walked over and pulled her into his arms. "When all of this is over, Marco will never be able to hurt you again. I'll make sure of that. I will keep you safe."
"I know."
"Just let me get a few things, and I'll be ready to leave."
When she began to nibble on her bottom lip, Breaker wondered if they would have time for a quickie. No, making love with Savannah would never be a quickie. But damn, when she nibbled her lip like that, he was tempted to hang around the apartment a little bit longer. He released a regretful sigh. He doubted she would be able to relax anyway.
She had no idea what he could do. Breaker hoped he didn't have to show her that Marco wasn't nearly as tough as he thought. He had to take Marco out of his comfort zone. Marco wouldn't stand a chance in the swamps.
He began shoving clothes into a dark blue satchel. When he had everything he thought he might need, he grabbed a backpack and put in grenades, extra bullets, a couple of guns, and a few other surprises. As he walked out of his bedroom, he thought about something.
Savannah was still standing where he'd left her. "You didn't pack anything white to wear, did you?"
She shook her head. "No, why?"
He wasn't about to tell her that alligators loved white. Tourists often fed them marshmallows. The alligators loved eggs, and thinking the marshmallows were eggs, they'd scarf them up. But instead of telling her that, he only shook his head. "White would probably get dirty faster," he said instead. "Are you ready?"
She looked relieved that they were leaving. "Yes."
He locked the apartment, and they went downstairs. He could feel the man watching them. He made sure he would see them putting bags into his pickup.
He didn't get in any hurry as he pulled away. He watched in his rearview mirror as the black SUV kept its distance, but stayed on their tail.
They'd been on the road for about an hour. Breaker had almost lost the tail a few times. He'd slowed down so Marco's man could catch up. The man following them was an idiot. He caught a glimpse of him when they stopped for gas. He wasn't much more than a kid. Marco had probably sent him all over the state, and he’d been the only one in the area by the time they figured out Breaker had more than one alias and they were able to locate him.
Breaker had worked with the intelligence department, knowing Marco probably had someone on the inside somewhere. Breaker’s guy made some of his information more accessible. Breaker had been about to give up that they would ever discover who he was when they finally figured it all out. He
'd been almost to the point where he was going to send Marco a postcard with his return address on it. Maybe a note that read, having a great time with Savannah. Glad you're not here or some kind of shit.
"Someone's following us, aren't they?" Savannah asked, breaking the silence in the pickup.
"Yes, he's been behind us since we left the bar. I almost lost him a few times and had to slow down so he could catch up." He glanced across the seat. Her eyes had widened, and her mouth dropped open. "What?" he asked.
She drew in a deep breath and looked out the window for a moment. He watched as she slowly exhaled, then faced him. "This isn't a game. Marco will kill you. Then he'll probably kill me. That's okay. I would rather be dead than be with him again. I know you think the swamp will probably scare him enough so that he'll leave us alone. Or maybe you think an alligator will eat him. You don't know Marco. He's dangerous. More dangerous than anything you might have in the swamp."
He knew she still didn’t have a clue what he did. Before, she’d only guessed. "I was on a mission once. It was in Juarez, Mexico. Man, that place was a real shithole. My team was there at the request of our government and the Mexican government. The drug cartel ran the town. They terrorized the people who were too poor to move someplace safe. This particular drug lord ran most of his drugs through underground tunnels. He also dealt in human trafficking. He was bad news. I went undercover there for a few weeks.”
He glanced across the seat. She was still intently listening to what he was telling her, so he continued.
“I was staying with a family, hiding out actually. It was a young couple. They were afraid for their children's lives. The drug lord had already threatened to sell their kids if they didn't do everything he said. They were devout Catholics and knew if it cost them their lives, they still had to do what was right."
"What happened?"
"I learned on that mission that sometimes you have to wallow in the dirt to kill the rat."
"Did you kill him?"
"After we caught him, he laughed at us. There was no way he would stay in jail, and then bragged he would be back in business by the next day. He said he owned the police. He threatened to come back and kill the people who’d helped us, along with their children."
She visibly swallowed. "Did he?"
"He never made it to jail. That's all you need to know.” He frowned. “Juarez is still a shithole. The last I heard, the young couple were able to get a job in the country working at a hacienda owned by a very respectable man and his wife."
"Is that what you're going to do this time? Wallow in the dirt?"
"Sometimes, that's the only way you can catch the bad guy. Does that bother you?" He gripped the steering wheel, waiting for her answer. When he wasn't at the bar, this was who he was. Or maybe he was like this all the time. He wouldn’t change. There was too much injustice in the world. He had to protect those who couldn't defend themselves. Sometimes he wished that he could walk away, but he'd never been able to.
"Marco is smart. He'll come after you with everything he has. I've watched him closely over the years. He'll hold back and send his men in first. Once he weakens you, then he’ll come in for the kill."
"You said he's a very proud man, and he believes in honor. At least, what he thinks is honorable. He has a sick way of thinking. He always wants to be in control, and when he loses that control, he gets angry. When someone is angry, their judgment is off."
"You want to make him angry?"
"Oh, I've already made him furious. Now I'm just jabbing the open sore that I created. He may send a few of his men before him, but he’ll be with the others. I don’t doubt that for one second. When he does, I'll be ready for him.”
He thought she would say something more, but instead, she turned her head toward the window and watched the passing scenery.
The closer he got to the swamp, the more he felt as if he was coming home. Would his family remember him? He told Savannah they would, but he wasn't sure. He could still protect her better there than he could at the bar.
A lot of time had passed, though. He still remembered the day his grandmother had encouraged him to leave. The open wounds on his back were almost healed. She looked him directly in the eye and told him he was meant for more than life in the swamps.
Before he’d left, he'd asked if he would ever see her again. Her smile had been gentle as she’d run her callused hands down the sides of his face. She told him if not in this lifetime, she would see him on the other side.
That was about fifteen years ago. She’d married young and had four kids. She'd already outlived two of them. He'd always thought of her as old, probably because he was young. Now that he thought about it, he figured she was probably in her sixties now, so not that old, but life in the swamp could make you old before your years. She might or might not still be alive. He hoped she was.
He came off the interstate and turned on a road a few miles down. It wasn't long before he spotted the SUV behind him. He drove for another twenty miles before turning again and going another five miles. He slowed and pulled next to a building that had seen better days. The building leaned to the right as if a big wind had come along and tilted it sideways. The outside was weathered wood that was thirsty for a coat of paint, and there was a dock—of sorts.
The only good thing about the place was Willis, the man who owned it. He’d already warned him about Marco. As soon as they had their boat, he would disappear into the swamp until the air cleared.
"We’re here?" Savannah asked, sitting slightly forward. She had been silent most of the drive.
"We are. I called ahead, and there'll be a boat waiting for us."
"What about the man who's following us?"
He smiled. "He'll see which direction we go. Now is when we lose him." The cat and mouse game had begun.
She nervously glanced over her shoulder.
“Don’t worry. They won’t come after us tonight. No one goes into the swamp when the sun is about to set unless they know how to get around. No, they’ll come in a few days.”
That’s when he would turn the tables, and the hunter would become the prey.
Breaker called out as they approached the building, and Willis came out. He was older, weren't they all, and leaner than Breaker remembered.
Willis pushed his glasses higher up the bridge of his nose, then pulled a red handkerchief out of his back pocket and wiped his hands. When he grinned, Breaker saw he was missing a few more teeth than the last time he’d seen him.
“Woo-whee, you be comin’ home after all, you be.” He walked as if he was on a boat, a kind of side-to-side shuffle. “You grandmamma be happy ‘bout that.”
“Willis, how have you been?”
Willis looked at Savannah, then nodded before turning his attention back to Breaker. “Been ‘bout good most times. Old bones ache now and again. Been goin’ after dem crawfish and sellin’ to da locals. Make pretty good.”
“This is Savannah.”
“Hello, cher. You be mighty pretty, you.” He smiled wide.
Savannah smiled back, then held out her hand. He nodded before taking it and shaking.
“Breaker done tol’ me ‘bout dis man. Don’t you be worryin’ dat pretty head ‘bout nothin’, you hear? Da kin what be takin’ care of dat.”
"We better go before the sun goes down too much." Breaker shook Willis' hand, and he led them to the pirogue.
“Not much call for boats what got no motor,” Willis said. “Dis one still be a good ‘un.”
"Thanks, Willis. I wouldn't hang around too long. There's a man in a black SUV that's been following me. He's young, but sometimes that doesn't mean a whole lot."
"He mess wid me before I leave, and I sic Clementine on him." Willis cackled. "He be runnin' home to momma for sure then."
“You still have that pet rattlesnake?”
Willis frowned. “Non, this be Clementine the third. But he’s a good snake, he be.”
The minute Willis mentioned hav
ing a snake, Savannah began looking around on the ground as if old Clementine would crawl out from his hole. Breaker was still smiling as he helped her into the boat and pushed away from shore.
Yeah, Savannah had a lot to learn about his kin, him, and the swamps.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Marco stood at the edge of the water, staring into the murky shadows. When something moved just beneath the surface, he took a step back. Reaching behind him, he felt the gun that was stuck into the waistband of his pants.
"I don't like this, Marco," Juan said. "We don't know this area like he does. I've heard stories of people getting lost in the swamps and they’re never heard from again."
Marco's laughter was bitter. "Are you scared?"
Juan stiffened beside him. "I'm saying that you're in his territory now. He'll have us running around in circles. Francesco isn't going to like that you're in Louisiana. You should be dealing with your business and making the customers happy."
Marco's eyes narrowed on Juan. "You seem to know a lot about Francesco. Have you been talking with him?"
Juan's forehead furrowed. "No, of course not. Why would he even speak to me?"
Marco relaxed. "You're right. Why would he speak to the bastard son of his old friend? His family comes from nobility, as does mine. The king of Spain sent his family to settle in Mexico. Francesco's family and mine crossed the ocean together." His gaze swept over Juan. "Your mother worked as my mother's maid. You are a peasant to him. Of course, he wouldn't speak to you."
Marco turned on his heel and walked back to the car. Why he’d ever thought Francesco would deign to speak to someone in Juan's position was beyond him. Once he returned with Savannah, Francesco would know he was the right choice to run the San Antonio area. In fact, he was going to talk to him about taking over West Texas as well.
He glanced once more toward the muddy waters of the swamp. He would meet this man on his ground, and he would kill him. No one made a fool out of Marco Sanchez.