Someone yelled. Hunt didn’t know if it came from him or the man he was fighting with. What he knew for sure, though, was that he was about to pass out. He was quickly running out of options and oxygen. He wanted to open his mouth and swallow great gulps of air, but it was physically impossible to do so. The man was just too strong. His head felt as if it was being squashed and was about to implode. The man was tightening his viselike grip, trying to choke the life out of Hunt. Hunt brought up his clenched right fist between the man’s legs with all the force he could muster. The man’s knees buckled, but he somehow managed to hold on to his choke. But Hunt had destabilized him and bought himself a precious second. Hunt pushed against the man’s thigh and turned his head to the side. He encircled the man’s right knee with his arms, and, using the last of his strength, he lifted the man in the air and threw him to the ground. Hunt went with him. They hit the ground hard, with Hunt on top. With a whiplash effect, the man’s head slammed on the floor with a resounding thud. The flashlight rolled out of his hand, its beam revealing Hunt’s pistol. Before his opponent could gather his wits, Hunt jumped to his feet but struggled to keep himself upright. He staggered backward a few steps before recovering his pistol. The flashlight, which had finally come to a stop, illuminated the man’s face.
Hunt gasped, and his eyes shot wide open.
Cole Egan.
Cole Egan’s ears were ringing. When his head had hit the floor, there had been a series of blinding flashing lights and a loud thud unlike anything he had heard before. The back of his head, slick with blood, was throbbing. When he opened his eyes, Pierce Hunt was standing in front of him, a gun pointed at his chest.
“Hey, Pierce,” Egan said, massaging his temples in tiny circles with his fingertips.
He tried to sit up, but Hunt planted his foot on his chest. With anyone else but Hunt, he’d try something to get out of this annoying situation. With Hunt, though, he’d end up with a double tap in the chest. Plus, he wasn’t here to kill his former colleague and friend; he was here to warn him and offer his help.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Cole?” Hunt said, his voice wavering. “Don’t tell me you’re involved with this shit. I’ll drill one in your forehead.”
Egan could see Hunt was struggling to understand what had just happened. Egan knew he was just one piece of a large puzzle. With luck, Hunt would give him a minute or two to explain before shooting him in the head.
“Look around you, Pierce. Do you see a weapon? I came in with a flashlight, for God’s sake.”
“Keep talking.”
“Your daughter was here,” Egan said. “Can I get up?”
Instead of removing his foot, Hunt dug it even deeper into Egan’s chest. Egan winced in pain.
“C’mon, Pierce, if I wanted you dead, I would have brought more than a goddamned flashlight.”
“Leila was here?”
“And so was Garcia’s daughter.”
“Whose side are you on, Cole?”
“Do you really have to ask?”
“Answer the fucking question,” Hunt growled. “You’re not the same man I once saved.”
There was no denying it. He wasn’t sure how much—if anything—Hunt knew about Mr. Granger, but Gaza had changed him. For the last decade, Egan’s loyalty had been to whomever paid him the most, and the Black Tosca had been quite generous. But how could he live with himself if he turned against the man who had sacrificed so much of his soul to save him? Gaza had tainted Egan; Hunt, on the contrary, seemed to be the exact same.
“True,” Egan admitted, looking Hunt straight in the eyes. “But I’m on your side.”
Hunt seemed to hesitate, and Egan feared he was about to punch out and meet his creator.
“The Black Tosca hired me to kill you. By reneging on that contract—”
“You piece of shit,” Hunt said, shaking his head in disbelief.
“Weren’t you listening? I’m not following it through. Believe it or not—”
“You’d better hope I’m a believer, Cole. If not . . .” Hunt didn’t finish his thought. He didn’t need to. “My daughter’s been taken, and I’m in no mood to play games, even with you.”
“My wife’s pregnant, Pierce,” Egan said defensively. “I had to at least pretend to take the contract. That’s the only thing I’m guilty of.”
In Egan’s mind, there was nothing to gain by admitting he’d actually intended to kill Hunt. His only play now was to team up with Hunt and go after the Black Tosca. Only with the Black Tosca dead could he assure the safety of Katherine and the baby.
“What changed your mind?” Hunt asked.
“Nothing changed my mind,” Egan replied immediately, not falling for Hunt’s trap. “I’d never do that. Never. You hear me?”
“Oh, I hear you, but the question is whether I believe you.”
“What do I have—”
“Was Daniel McMaster in with you on this?” Hunt cut in.
“What? No.” Egan’s head was spinning. What did McMaster have to do with any of this? Hunt wasn’t making sense. “McMaster is my father-in-law, Pierce. That’s it. He doesn’t know anything. He’s the reason why I’m with Katherine. I’ve been spying on him for years.”
A look of disbelief appeared on Hunt’s face.
Egan took a couple of deep breaths, which wasn’t easy, as Hunt had all his weight on his chest, and said, “If you think I’m against you, or lying to you, pull the damn trigger and be done with it. But if you believe me, help me up, and let’s get your daughter back.”
Hunt’s stare didn’t vacillate. Egan’s words hadn’t gotten through his friend’s defenses. In fact, Egan saw Hunt’s finger slowly getting tighter around the trigger.
“I want to be a father, Pierce,” Egan pleaded.
Hunt relaxed his finger. He believed Egan. It all made sense now. McMaster had unwittingly found himself trapped in the Black Tosca’s web. He was a victim too.
“Can you really help me?” Hunt asked Egan, lowering his weapon.
“Yes, but I need to call McMaster first. I need him to relocate Katherine. If the Black Tosca learns I’ve double-crossed her, she’ll kill Katherine.”
“McMaster won’t be happy, but he’ll do it,” Hunt said.
“Once he learns who I really am, he’ll ask Katherine never to see me again.”
“What have you got yourself into?”
Egan averted his eyes. Hunt could tell the question made Egan uncomfortable. Whatever shit Egan had gotten himself into, he was in neck-deep. Too deep, maybe? Am I being played?
Egan had told the truth about not being armed. He was a skilled operator—one of the best Hunt had worked with—and Hunt had only heard him at the last moment. If Egan had come in with a weapon in hand, there was a good chance Hunt would have a hole or two in him.
“I fucked up, Pierce. I really did,” Egan said with a sigh. “The only thing that counts now is protecting Katherine. The only way to do that is to take down the Black Tosca. I’m tired of being her puppet. So please, let me help you. Maybe it will be my redemption. Sort of, anyway.”
Hunt holstered his gun and extended his hand. Egan, still on the ground, took it. “Really?” Egan asked.
“Yeah, really.”
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
South of Hypoluxo, Florida
Hector hung up. He had just spoken to the chief pilot. His instructions had been short and to the point. The plane needed to be ready to depart in twenty minutes with a flight plan to Nassau, Bahamas.
“What should I do?” his driver asked.
The three police cruisers were right on the van’s tail, their emergency lights blitzing in a synchronized pattern of red and blue. Hector had no choice but to order his driver to stop. Now wasn’t the time to be angry or to start questioning how they had ended up being pulled over. Now was the time to react and to adapt to the current situation.
“Change of plan, gentlemen,” Hector said, loud enough for all his men to hear. “Once w
e’re done here, we’ll head directly to the airport. We’ll figure out what to do once we’re in the air. Understood?”
His men nodded. They were ready for action. They were outnumbered six to four, but there was no way the police officers were prepared for the tremendous amount of firepower his men were about to lay down upon them. And even if the officers were prepared, his men were much better trained than the highway cops.
“Pull the van over at the next off-ramp,” Hector said to the driver. “Let’s go to work.”
The Ford panel van’s driver tapped the brakes numerous times to indicate he was about to pull over—at least, that was Steck’s interpretation. The driver then activated his right turn signal. Steck followed the van as it pulled onto the shoulder of the off-ramp. The panel van stopped four hundred feet later at the end of the ramp. Steck stopped his cruiser about three or four car lengths behind it. Trooper Eiderzen turned on the cruiser’s powerful spotlight and shined it on the van.
“You see anything?” Steck asked.
The panel van’s windows were heavily tinted, and there were no windows in the back. It was hard to tell how many occupants were inside the vehicle save for the driver and at least one passenger. The driver’s door opened, and a man climbed out. He wore a pair of black jeans and a dark-colored T-shirt and appeared to be holding a cigarette in his right hand. The man waved at the police car before shielding his eyes. With the beam of the spotlight shining in his eyes, there was no way he could see Steck or the rest of his team. A small burning circle of tobacco glowed orange as the driver drew on his cigarette. Steck looked away from the driver, his eyes searching for anything suspicious. The shocks on the van were somewhat compressed, but that didn’t mean anything. Maybe they were carrying a heavy load? But Steck had to put everything in perspective. There were almost no vehicles on the road. It was late at night—or very early in the morning. The panel van was owned by a holding company belonging to a notorious attorney. One of the properties within the same holding company had been the scene of a crime that same night. These were all things that Steck kept in mind as he disembarked from his vehicle.
“Call it in,” he instructed Eiderzen, placing his hand over his holster. “And please, Erica, keep the spotlight’s beam on the van.”
Eiderzen nodded.
Steck keyed his radio and said to his team, “Linda, get behind me. Jack and Ricardo, take the passenger side, and watch out for oncoming traffic.”
He got a series of acknowledgments. He then added, “Erica will operate the spotlight, and Carrie will stay in reserve and keep an eye on the back of the panel van.”
Steck started his approach. His gut told him he was missing something. The panel van’s driver turned his head toward the van and said something. Steck didn’t hear what it was, and it made him nervous. He had an unsettled feeling in his chest. Steck’s right hand casually released the strap on his holster.
Hector thought his driver was playing his role perfectly. It was even money the cops would ask him to get back in the van, but they ended up allowing him to stay outside.
“They’re all there,” his man told him hastily. “Two approaching on my side, two more on your side, one manning the spotlight, and the last officer is staying back. Light body armor and pistols only.”
Hector nodded his thanks and said to his team, “Wait till they get to the back of the van, then be precise, fast, and deadly. I want us on our way in thirty seconds.”
Five seconds later, Hector gave the order to execute.
Even with the mighty beam of the spotlight, Steck had difficulty seeing inside the van. And he didn’t like it. The back of his neck tingled. He knew the feeling well. He’d had it many times since joining the Florida Highway Patrol, and he had learned to listen to his sixth sense. Steck was still two steps away from the vehicle when he stopped. Farrell, who’d been following a little too closely, bumped into him. For a fraction of a second, the angle was just right, and Steck saw there were at least two more occupants in the panel van.
And they were on the move.
“What’s going on?” Farrell asked, immediately alert.
Before Steck could reply, the side doors opened. Steck instinctively pulled out his firearm and ducked. The driver reached for something behind his back. Steck had a clear shot, but he hesitated, afraid this was all a mistake and that he was reading too much into the situation. Farrell didn’t hesitate, though. She sidestepped him to the left and fired at the driver while yelling, “Police!”
The driver, hit twice above his left nipple, crumpled to the ground. Then everything happened at once. A man dressed in black combat gear and armed with what looked like an MP5 exited the van in front of Steck and opened fire on full automatic. The first bullet ripped Steck’s pistol from his hand, and then several caught him on his left side and lower abdomen. It felt like a series of sharp, stinging punches. Steck heard Farrell scream as bullets slammed into her, making her dance. More bullets slapped through the windshield of his police cruiser, right where Eiderzen was seated. Steck fell to one knee and managed to retrieve his pistol. He tried to return fire, but his hands were shaking so much he couldn’t pull the trigger. Steck looked down and noticed blood oozing out of his shirt and pants.
Christ! What have I done? I led my team right into a slaughter.
When he looked up again, the man in black had his eyes fixed on him. Is he smiling? Then the man fired.
Hector advanced, swinging his MP5 left and right and looking for additional threats he might have missed. Nothing. His side of the van was clear. The spotlight had been shattered and so had the front windshield of the first police car.
A few cars sped by, but none stopped.
“Back in the van!” Hector yelled.
“Man down!” one of his men yelled back.
Fuck! He hurried to the other side of the van, where his driver lay on his back next to the front left tire. Hector knelt next to him. He cursed all the gods he knew. The driver’s heart, at least for the few beats it had left, was pumping blood through two holes, circular and neat, where the bullets had struck him. Hector took his man’s hand in his own. He wished he could do something for him, but the man was too far gone. Hector knew he wouldn’t want pity, so he simply said, “You did well, my friend.”
A moment later, the driver’s eyes rolled back in their sockets, and Hector heard the death rattle as his man breathed out for the last time.
CHAPTER FIFTY
Hallandale Beach, Florida
While Egan called Daniel McMaster to explain the situation and to beg for his help in temporarily relocating Katherine, Hunt searched the room at the end of the hallway. It was the only room left in the basement he hadn’t gone through. What he found took his breath away.
Dear God, they recorded everything.
On a large curved desk, two computer screens linked to the video cameras inside the bedrooms displayed live feeds of the surveillance footage. Opposite the screens was a twin bed, unmade, with clothes strewn all over it. None of the clothes belonged to Leila, which was a relief. Hunt sat behind the desk and pulled the keyboard tray toward him. On it was a wireless keyboard and a wireless mouse. Maybe he could see what had happened in the bedrooms. It took a minute to figure out how the system worked, but it was pretty simple. With a click of the mouse, he rewound the digital recording until he saw Leila.
Hunt couldn’t catch a breath, his throat locking the moment he caught sight of his Leila. His heart pounded in his chest. Even though Egan had told him so, it was a relief to confirm he was only an hour or so behind the animals who had stolen his daughter from him.
Hunt remained motionless as he watched Leila fight one of her captors, a tall and muscular man four times her size. His face grew hot as he witnessed Leila being flung across the bedroom. Hunt almost threw the computer screen against the opposite wall when he recognized the brute. Hector Mieles.
How could a man do that to a fifteen-year-old girl? Tightness swelled in his chest. I’m
gonna fucking kill you. Hunt couldn’t take his eyes off the screen. Unconsciously, he clenched and unclenched his fists as Hector Mieles approached his daughter, who seemed to have lost consciousness after rolling on her side a few times. Hunt stared at Mieles, a man he could and should have killed the day before, with the hypnotic fascination of a predator looking at its prey.
Suddenly Mieles jerked back, and Leila spat the piece of flesh Hunt had discovered in the bedroom. Despite everything he’d just seen, a grin pulled at his mouth.
Leila was alive and still in the fight.
Egan was thankful Daniel McMaster hadn’t asked too many questions. He knew there would be hell to pay in the future, but at least Katherine and his unborn baby would be safe. As a DEA special agent in charge, McMaster had a lot of resources at his disposal. One of those resources was the ability to hide high-value assets or witnesses. There was no doubt in Egan’s mind that McMaster would use his power to ensure the safety of his daughter and future grandchild. Egan wished he could have explained everything to Katherine prior to requesting her father’s assistance, but there was no time—and, to be honest, he wasn’t exactly sure how he would explain the situation. It wasn’t the easiest thing to admit to your wife that you were a hired gun for a drug cartel. This was especially true when your wife’s dad had made a career out of arresting cartel members.
Egan made his way back to the basement. He found Hunt in the room at the end of the small hallway, staring at two computer screens. When Hunt glanced back, there was a murderous rage in his eyes.
“They drugged the girls,” Hunt told him. “Do you know where they went?”
Hunt Them Down (Pierce Hunt Book 1) Page 20