Protector Of Convenience (Rogue Protectors Book 2)

by Victoria Paige

  “Roger that,” Garrison gritted. “How about from where Migs and Bristow came in?”

  “It’s clear.”

  John grabbed his arm. “Take the women and get back to base.”

  Migs eyes narrowed. “What about you guys?”

  “We’ll hold them off. It’s imperative the women and this get out of here.” John handed him a backpack, which contained the virus.

  At Migs’ hesitation, the spook added, “This will all be for nothing if we get caught. I can get the men out of this if we’re captured. Trust me.”

  John was right. The mission couldn’t fail, and he couldn’t concentrate with Ariana in mortal danger.

  He gave a brief nod

  “I can carry you,” Migs told Ariana.

  She shook her head. “I can run. The bleeding has stopped.”

  Migs knew she was lying, but there was not a second to waste. With his NVG shield down, he checked to see if there were hostiles lurking in front of them or behind the cover of the overgrown shrubbery and ancient trees. There was no movement. All the action was behind him in front of the truck. Taking hold of Ariana’s hand once more and nodding to Doctor Bennett who returned an acknowledgment of her own, they ran.

  Bullets struck the ground around them, kicking up divots of earth but they didn’t slow down and continued running.

  Migs ignored the urge to check if Ariana was in pain because they would be in a bigger world of hurt if they were captured.

  So, even as bullets flew past them, they didn’t stop.

  Even when another explosion rocked the night, they didn’t slow.

  With the rear exit finally in sight, his lungs expanded and contracted in measured breathing. Slamming against the wall beside the red metal door, he yanked it open. It was hidden by creeping vines on the side facing the street. Whether it was deliberate or not, Migs didn’t know. It concealed their exit point and that was good enough for him. Without asking her, Migs swept Ariana off her feet and hurried to the nondescript sedan parked on the side of the road.

  Ten feet away from the car, a whistling sound streaked by his ear, and a flash blinded him just as a booming blast deafened him. For the second time that night Migs was flat on his back. For the second time that night, his helmet protected his skull, but the weight of Ariana motionless on top of him had him choking in fear. He shoved up his NVGs and sat up carefully, a dizzying relief hitting him when she groaned and bitched at the explosion that shocked them.

  “Mierda! Seriously? We can’t catch a break.”

  “Are you okay?” Migs yelled behind him at Doctor Bennett.

  “Okay,” she mumbled.

  An SUV screeched in front of them.

  “Get in.”

  Andrade.

  Without hesitating, he gestured for Doctor Bennett to get into the front seat while he packed into the middle row with Ariana.

  Before he got the door fully closed, Andrade was spinning wheels to get out of there.

  “Antonio Andrade. You are?” Migs heard the Brazilian’s curt address to the doctor.

  “Charly Bennett.”

  Migs would have loved to have heard Andrade’s reaction, but a jumble of voices broke out in his earpiece, he finally heard John’s. “Are you guys all right?”

  “Yeah!”

  “Nadia said your vehicle caught an RPG.”

  “Yup. Toast.”

  “Bristow nailed that motherfucker.”

  “No shit?” Thank fuck.

  “Motherfucker,” Andrade cursed and Migs was flung into the door when the other man swerved the vehicle to the right. “Road block.”

  “What?”

  “They’re blocking our exit back to base.”

  “Who?”

  “Mexican Army,” Andrade growled, flicking his eyes to the rear-view mirror and Migs was sure he was checking for a tail. “Carillo must have called in a huge favor. They crossed into PNO territory, but their scouts were able to sound the alarm, so I told my plane to take off.”

  “Your plane is gone?”

  “I had it divert to Mexico City.”

  “That’s where we’re heading?”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t leave us there,” Migs said.

  Andrade barked a short laugh, but it wasn’t amused. “I wouldn’t abandon Ariana.” His eyes and Migs’ met in the rear-view mirror. Although it wasn’t very good lighting, he could see the challenge in the other man’s eyes. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

  “She’s not your sweetheart,” Migs snarled.

  “Cool it, Walker. No need for jealous husband bullshit. Besides,” Andrade glanced over to the quiet doctor. “I’ve got another prize catch in mind.”

  “I’m not a fish,” Doctor Bennett snapped.

  “No, you’re a poor excuse of a human with no conscience. Creating a weapon in the name of science—” Andrade broke off in a sound of disgust.

  “And how about you?” the doctor challenged. “Don’t tell me you’re a Boy’s Scout.”

  Migs should be enjoying this sparring, but it was giving him a headache. Ariana’s fingers gripped his, and he stared down at her. “Is your foot in pain?”

  “What’s wrong with her foot?” Andrade asked.

  Ignoring his question, Migs addressed the doctor. “First moment we get, I need you to look her over.”

  “What was done to her?” the other man asked softly.

  “Stop it,” Ariana said. “Doctor Bennett just drew blood. It was that Silba person who made me sick.” She froze. “Abbi Mena! How is she?”

  “She’s fine. Broken arm and concussion. She had to stay overnight at the hospital.”

  “I’m so sorry she got hurt because of me.”

  “It wasn’t because of you, babe. Stop thinking like that.”

  When she didn’t answer, he gave her arm a squeeze.

  “I’m trying to stop blaming myself. I think I need to do it slowly, but I’m not feeling guilty about Raul’s sins anymore.”

  “Good.”

  “I’m worthy of having a family.”

  “You are.”

  “Sorry to interrupt the heart-to-heart”—Andrade stated grimly—“but we’ve got company.”

  25

  “Seatbelts,” Andrade ordered, but he was looking at Charly.

  “Need me as shooter?” Migs asked, getting his wife upright and pulling the seatbelt across her body. “Any chance this SUV is bulletproof?”

  “You wish,” the other man muttered.

  Migs had to hand it to Andrade— for a stuffed shirt, he sure had skills behind the wheel. Ariana was white knuckling his fingers and he wouldn’t be surprised if he had nail marks embedded in his skin. They had passed a group of small homes before entering a commercial area. That was when the bullets started flying.

  It was muffled at first. Then the rounds started hitting their vehicle like a tin can being pelted by pebbles.

  “Hang on,” Andrade yelled, and everyone slammed to the left when he veered sharply onto a side street.

  Migs got a clear outline of the vehicle behind them when it followed the turn. It was an open jeep with a mounted machine gun. The men were bad shots, it was surprising they hadn’t—

  The rear windshield shattered.

  Well, fuck!

  “Engaging,” Migs clipped and lowered a second-row seat.

  “Be careful!” Ariana said.

  He didn’t answer her but gave her arm a squeeze before lumbering into the third row and landing on his back. Rifle in hand, he checked his mag, shoving it back into position, and rolled to his knees. He shouldered his weapon, lined his target, and started shooting. His shot went wide when Andrade took another turn. “Keep it steady!”

  “You want us to be lame ducks?” the Brazilian scoffed.

  “That’s sitting duck, you idiot,” Migs snarled back. He wasn’t as experienced a sniper as Bristow. He was more an in-the-gunfight type of guy.

  The jeep tailing them
did a serpentine pattern, swerving left and then right, but that also messed with their assailant’s aim. Migs shook his head. Another group of guys who’d watched Peter Falk and Alan Arkin in The In-Laws.

  “What the hell are they doing?” Andrade said.

  “Don’t ask. You just hold the fuck steady.” He fired two rounds in succession. On the third one, he hit the right tire.

  The jeep lost control and crashed into a building.

  “Good shot,” came from the driver.

  Migs raised a brow. “Thanks.”

  His earpiece crackled. Finally, some reception. “Walker, you there?” That was Nadia’s voice.

  “Yeah. Where’s Garrison?”

  “They managed to get away, but they’re on foot.”

  “Shit. How’s Levi?”

  “Functional. Last I heard they were dodging around houses in the neighborhood.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  “Not long. Garrison asked me to check on you.”

  “Andrade? Are we going to Mexico City?”

  “For now.”

  “Get that, Nadia?”

  “Copy that. I’ll tell Garrison.”

  Migs jumped back onto the second row. Ariana’s hand gripped his.

  “You okay?” he asked, noting the clamminess of her palm.

  She sighed. “Adrenaline crash, I think. I need to get used to you being an action hero.”

  The man in the driver’s seat snorted.

  Ignoring Andrade, because obviously the fucker was a sore loser, he kissed Ariana on the temple.

  They made it to the next town when Andrade pulled over behind a twenty-four-hour convenience store. Migs switched places with Charly so she could tend to Ariana’s foot. He held the flashlight for additional illumination.

  Andrade stepped outside to keep watch, but Migs saw him make a call.

  “Can you keep the light angled here?” Charly said.

  He did as he was told. He hated watching his wife flinch every time the doctor poked and removed pieces of glass. “Didn’t think you would go all Bruce Willis and Die Hard, babe.” He attempted to keep her attention off Charly’s ministrations.

  “I’m never going to live that down, am I?” Ariana sighed.

  “Nope.” Migs squeezed her hand. “Stubborn. Told you not to move. You couldn’t even see where I was.”

  “But I heard you cry.”

  Just his luck, Andrade took that time to return.

  “Walker cried?”

  “I did not cry,” Migs muttered, “I grunted.”

  “I’m sure Nadia has a recording of it.”

  Migs flipped him off. Ariana patted him on the arm. “Doesn’t matter. You swooped in like my knight in shining armor. I knew you would come.”

  “You did?” This warmed his heart. No, it made his chest puff up with pride.

  “I knew I had to hang on as much as possible. Not give up.”

  There was so much Migs wanted to confess. His despair when she went missing, almost losing hope. But he didn’t fancy Andrade giving commentary every time he was sweet to his wife.

  Charly leaned back and started wrapping Ariana’s foot in bandage. “You’re lucky, none of these need stitches. If you can stay off your feet for a couple of days, that would be great. We need to get you better shoes too.”

  “Usually, I’d make a remark about women and shoes, but in this case, I agree,” Andrade drawled.

  The doctor shot him an irritated look, just as the other man frowned as he slid out his phone to take another call.

  Migs could hear the Brazilian cussing.

  “They’re going to pay for this,” he seethed. “How dare they block my plane from landing? What the hell do they mean terrorist activities?”

  “Looks like Mexico City is a no-go,” Charly said dryly.

  Migs got out of the passenger side and exchanged positions with the doctor. There was one place they could go, but he wasn’t looking forward to asking for a favor.

  Andrade stalked back to the vehicle. “Bunch of extortionists. My pilot hasn’t been allowed to land. The air traffic controller said we do not have a flight plan, but I usually can get past those.”

  “So what happened to your friends with Ponce-Neto? Couldn’t they help us?”

  “We’re in Carillo territory and apparently the Mexican military had been bought. Not all. Only the ones in the area of Venustiano, but I suspect Mexico City too.”

  “So what’s the plan?”

  Andrade was pacing the length of the SUV. But Migs had to give it to the billionaire—even getting shot at, he managed to remain calm and didn’t panic. Made Migs wonder just how rough his life had been before he’d been adopted into the influential Andrade family. Rumor was he never went to college and was given an honorary degree by the University of São Paolo.

  When he stopped pacing, he said, “You have a cousin in Michoacán.”

  “You know I do.”

  “How much do you trust him?”

  “I trust him. Doesn’t mean we like each other.”

  Andrade smiled. “Look at us. We don’t like each other but we managed to survive.”

  “You have a point,” Migs sighed. “I’ll give him a call.”

  They stole an old station wagon—a Volvo from the early nineties before all the computerized shit made it difficult to steal a car. He was impressed with how deftly Andrade lifted the locks and got the engine started. Migs could have done it himself, being a mechanic was in his cover after all, but he had a conscience about stealing that the other man didn’t.

  At Migs’ raised brow, Andrade shrugged. “I’ll track them down by the license plate and buy them a new one.”

  Of course he would.

  They drove for a few hours and made a stop at a roadside market. The ones where their owners slept in the stalls. But with the rising sun, some of them were already humming with activity, preparing breakfast and brewing coffee. Andrade still did the driving, because Migs was the lookout and the billionaire admitted he wasn’t as good of a shot as Migs. Their vehicle pulled into a dirt parking lot, shaped by the repeated uses of cars whose occupants wanted to buy refreshments from the makeshift shops. As Andrade offered to buy them food, Migs went off to make the calls.

  First, to his cousin Joaquín who was not surprised by his call. News travelled fast when a cartel boss was almost assassinated and needed to bribe the Mexican Army to intervene. His cousin was barely starting his day, and either he was pissed at being woken up so early in the morning or he wasn’t pleased at being bothered by Migs. Probably both. But with the Alcantara plantation also being a part of Miguel’s legacy, his cousin had no choice when he called and asked for sanctuary.

  He kept the call brief and moved to the next on his list—John. He and his team managed to steal some vehicles as well and were currently laying low in a town not too far from Tampico. They were dealing with a myriad of injuries including Levi’s concussion and it was lucky Bristow had stayed behind.

  “You can make a break for the American Embassy in Mexico City,” Migs said.

  “That’s the plan,” John replied. “But, according to our last transmission from Nadia, there’s some chatter that the Mexican Army has set up covert checkpoints on all arteries leading into the city.”

  “Verified?”

  “Nope. And we couldn’t raise her at all. Spotty reception,” John said. “Also left a message for the CIA station chief. Waiting to hear back from him.”

  So they were cut off too.

  Because the op against Benito was clandestine, and the Mexican Government wasn’t informed, John was avoiding regular channels of communication since Mexican intelligence was notorious for wiretapping. Hell, the cartels pioneered phone tapping in the country. It was how they got the dirt on high-ranking government officials then gave them two choices: take the bribe and be rich or suffer the consequences of an indiscretion and possible assassination.

  “I’m figuring the next time I see you it’ll be st
ateside,” Garrison said.

  “Yes. Andrade redirected his plane to our family’s private airfield.”

  “You could also try for the American Embassy.”

  “I thought of that, but Andrade would be left on his own.”

  “He’s a survivor.”

  “Seriously, John, would you leave a man behind after he rescued your ass?” He paused. “No matter how much you disliked him.”

  “No. I get where you’re coming from,” John said. “Might be a good idea to hide the virus from our ambassador, though. Not sure he’d like to get caught up in that mess.”

  “Fucking State Department. He’d probably return our haul back to the Mexican government.”

  There was an extended silence on John’s end, and he thought they’d been cut off. “When you see your cousin, remember the sensitivity of the information regarding your uncle’s death.”

  “They have pictures, John. I need to explain that.”

  “All I’m saying—”

  “I get what you’re saying.”

  After finishing the call, he walked back to the station wagon parked under overreaching boughs of a big tree. Andrade brought back two bags of food and was handing bottled water to the women together with a couple of wraps.

  “They only had huevos rancheros,” Andrade told the women, but they didn’t seem to hear him as they grabbed the offering and scarfed it down in silence.

  Guess they were starving.

  Andrade looked at him. “Did Garrison get out?”

  “Yeah, they’re laying low in some town.” He didn’t need to be specific. As much as Migs appreciated the man rescuing their asses, he was still on a need-to-know basis.

  “They’re going to make a run for the American Embassy in the city,” Andrade said. “That makes the most sense.”

  Migs shrugged.

  The other man continued looking at him. “You three could do it too.”

  He met Andrade’s stare. “You want me to leave you behind?”

  “It’s not the first time that’s happened. Besides, I can fend for myself. But the virus, the last vaccine, and the doctor’s laptop stays with me.”

  Migs grabbed the bag of food from Andrade and took his time unwrapping the item. Then he took a couple of bites, swallowed, and chased it with water. “Not gonna happen.”