Hunt Them Down (Pierce Hunt Book 1)

by Simon Gervais

  But to do what? He had always been a soldier. He would die a soldier. He had known that all his adult life. At first he had thought it would be for his country, but when Valentina had called for him, he hadn’t had the heart to turn her down. Not after what had happened to her father.

  Sometimes he wondered if she’d be the Black Tosca if it weren’t for his help. Not that he was jealous or wanted to take her place; on the contrary, he had absolutely no desire to become the face of the cartel.

  “We’re almost there, Hector,” his driver told him.

  “I know. It’s not my first time here,” Hector snapped back.

  Óliver Sáez, the man they were about to meet, was one of the richest men in San Miguel de Allende. Through grit and shrewdness, the real estate agent turned real estate developer had become a man of wealth and influence. He was also an importer—and sometimes provider—of everything that was forbidden by Mexican law. One of these forbidden things was the trafficking of clean, white, underage virgin girls. During an international online auction, a pretty American like Leila could easily fetch a quarter of a million dollars.

  Hector grunted at the thought. Sáez appalled him; the man embodied everything Hector hated. Sáez was a disloyal, dishonest, lying son of a bitch. Hector had even considered killing the man not so long ago. But today, he was glad Sáez was alive. In fact, without him, Hector was convinced that Valentina would burn Leila too.

  Upon his arrival in San Miguel, his cousin had given him a thorough tongue-lashing. She was furious that he had taken the initiative to bring the girls to Mexico without consulting with her first.

  “It was either that or killing them both in Florida. A single bullet to the head, not that crazy shit you have in mind,” he had told her.

  “You mean the crazy shit her grandfather did to me?”

  “And I killed the son of a bitch for you, Valentina. I lost good men doing so, not counting Chief Inspector Zorita,” he had reminded her.

  “I’ve made my decision, Hector. You won’t change my mind.”

  “It could bring us all down,” Hector had pleaded with her. “Leila’s father is a DEA special agent named Pierce Hunt. Do you really think the Americans won’t hit us back if we live stream the death of his teenage daughter? And you want to burn her alive? Hunt’s also a veteran, and the Americans worship their veterans. I’m telling you, Cousin, the pressure the public will put on their elected officials to do something will be such that they’ll have no choice but to come after us.”

  “They’ll never succeed. They’ve tried before. I’m still here. And that Pierce Hunt . . . I thought Mr. Granger was supposed to take care of him?”

  “I haven’t heard back from him. So perhaps Hunt’s dead. Who knows? But we have to consider the possibility that it is Mr. Granger who’s six feet under.”

  “That would be a shame.”

  “Listen to me, Valentina. The only reason we’re still alive and able to operate our business is because the Americans are playing within the set of rules they imposed upon themselves. Kill that girl by burning her on the world stage for everyone to watch, and I can guarantee they’ll scorch the rule book. Next thing you know, one of their Predators will fire a couple of Hellfire missiles and—”

  “They don’t have the guts!”

  “Two years ago I would have agreed with you. But now? With this president? I think he’s just looking for a reason to give the order to shoot.”

  In the end, he had won his point. The Black Tosca had agreed to sell Leila to Sáez for $100,000. It was much lower than she’d get for her on the open market, but at least she wouldn’t have to incur the Americans’ wrath.

  Sáez lived in a large house in Candelaria, the most exclusive countryside development in San Miguel and only five minutes from the center of the city. Bordered by beautiful and mature trees, Sáez’s house had splendid views of the Picacho Mountains. As Hector’s driver turned into the long driveway leading to Sáez’s estate, the sun began to set behind the large house.

  In the rear of the SUV, Leila gave a small whimper. Hector turned in his seat and looked at her. She had promised to behave, so he had removed the zip ties around her ankles and cuffed her hands in front of her instead of behind her back. There was no duct tape on her mouth either.

  She was crying, tears streaming down her face. He handed her a tissue, and she used it to wipe her tears and blow her nose.

  I saved your life, Hector thought. Now I’m wondering if I shouldn’t just put a bullet in your head to save you from the misery that’s about to come.

  “Where are you taking me?” Leila asked, hating the way her voice betrayed her fear.

  Hector didn’t respond. Usually arrogant and self-assured, he now looked confused, and she didn’t know why. It made her anxious. As much as she abhorred him, something about Hector made her feel safe. How twisted was that? He’s the one who kidnapped me and almost knocked me out, but with him I feel safe?

  Through the front windshield of the Range Rover, she saw that the driveway split into a circular loop outside the steps of the large wooden front door. A panoply of luxury cars was parked around the loop.

  “Where are we?” she asked Hector, but he once again failed to reply. Instead, he hopped out of the SUV and climbed the six steps leading to the front door. He rang the front bell, and a moment later, a man greeted him. He offered his hand to Hector, but Hector slapped it away. The man seemed offended, and he looked long and hard at Hector, who stood his ground. The whole situation was driving her crazy. She couldn’t shake the tingling feeling that something very wrong was about to happen to her. Her body began to shiver—out of fear, surely. Just a few short days ago, she had been safe and happy and eating pizza with her dad. Now, here she was, trembling like a leaf, hungry, and scared out of her wits.

  Hector walked back to the Range Rover and opened the door for her.

  “Follow me,” he said, his face completely devoid of any expression.

  Leila lifted her chin slightly and said, her voice quavering, “No. I’m not going anywhere.”

  He seized her arm and started pulling her out of the Range Rover. She wrenched her arm out of his grasp and tried to grab on to the headrest in front of her to keep from being dragged out of the SUV, but Hector was too strong. Her hands slipped on the smooth leather, and he roughly tugged her out of the vehicle. The moment her feet hit the ground, she screamed and kicked out at him before she lunged, her tied hands in front of her, aiming for his already injured ear. He easily sidestepped to his right, and she landed face-first on the asphalt. He picked her up effortlessly and, without another word, tossed her over his shoulder.

  It was pointless to resist, so she didn’t. He set her onto her feet once inside the house. The man who’d wanted to shake Hector’s hand was standing next to her, a big, ugly smile on his face.

  “I’ll take her from here, if you don’t mind,” the man said.

  Hector took one long last look at her, and, for a fleeting moment, she thought he was about to take her back to the SUV, but he turned away. Tears welled up in her eyes again, and she wiped them angrily with her forearm.

  “Welcome, Leila. Welcome,” the man said. “I’m Óliver Sáez, and you’re mine.”

  CHAPTER SIXTY

  San Miguel de Allende, Mexico

  Hunt had kept the line open with Carter so they could communicate in real time.

  “Hector’s coming out of the house, Pierce. Leila isn’t with him. She’s still in the house.”

  Forget this is Leila. This is just another rescue mission. What would you do if it were someone else’s daughter?

  Hunt made a snap decision. “We’re going in.”

  “What about the Range Rovers?” Egan asked. “Do we let Hector go?”

  “Do you think they’re armored?” Hunt asked Carter.

  “No doubt about it.”

  Hunt cursed. They weren’t equipped to deal with armored SUVs. “We’re letting them go,” he said.

  �
�Copy that,” Carter replied.

  Hunt continued with a bunch of instructions. “The moment they’re off-site, we’re moving in. Cole and Carter, you’re on me. We’ll move together.”

  “Copy,” said Carter.

  “I got it,” Egan said.

  “Dante will stay in or around the Land Cruiser. You’ll have our six.”

  “Understood.”

  “And let Abigail know I want her to keep an eye on the end of the driveway. I want to know if someone’s coming.”

  “Will do,” Dante said as he turned into the driveway.

  For a second, Hunt closed his eyes. He had worked with Egan in the past and with Carter more recently. They were both extremely capable operators, but the three of them weren’t a team. They would have to be careful. Rushing around like a bunch of chickens with their heads cut off was a sure way to end up the same way. It would be his job to take the lead and to make sure they stayed focused on the objective. Get Leila back.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

  San Miguel de Allende, Mexico

  Hector couldn’t wait to get out of there. Óliver Sáez’s house creeped him out, and he was furious at Valentina for ordering him to sell the teenager to this monster. Before the week was over, Leila would be abused, beaten, and most probably savagely raped.

  But she would live, he reminded himself. She. Would. Live. But what kind of life would it be? Fuck!

  He slammed his hand against the dashboard so hard that the glove compartment popped open.

  “Everything okay, boss?” his driver asked him.

  Hector flashed him a murderous look. The man’s eyes returned to the road ahead, and he didn’t speak another word.

  Hector glanced at his watch and shivered. Sophia’s execution was in two hours. He was glad Valentina hadn’t asked him to partake in that foolishness. Nicolás, her beau, had volunteered. Hector didn’t like Nicolás. He never had. Nicolás was a heartless son of a bitch. You couldn’t have a heart if you were willing to set a fifteen-year-old on fire. Nobody deserved to die that way. It hurt him to see how his beloved cousin had turned into someone willing to inflict such pain on a child. But these thoughts were dangerous.

  You’re getting weak. Get a grip. Or she’ll crush you.

  But the facts didn’t change. Valentina was slowly but surely turning into a real-life monster. It was true that as a child she had suffered a great deal, but, in Hector’s mind, that was no reason to start killing children.

  With a shock, Hector realized he had failed her. It was he who had promised to keep her safe—saving her sometimes from herself—and to keep her away from her self-destructive course.

  He would try to reason with her one more time. He couldn’t let her kill Sophia, because if he did, he’d be just as guilty.

  And what about Leila? You’re gonna leave her with Sáez?

  His gut told him to ask his driver to turn the Range Rover around and to get rid of Sáez and the other pigs in his house. In the Black Tosca’s book, though, that would be considered treason. Even for Hector Mieles. Was he actually considering going rogue? Hector, a man who had never hesitated to make a decision in the heat of battle, couldn’t think straight. His mind was being pulled in two diametrically opposite directions. He was confused.

  Hector looked outside the Range Rover window and saw a bunch of kids—some of them about the same age as Leila and Sophia—playing soccer on a makeshift field. He shook his head. Confused? Hector chewed on the word for a moment. He was a lot of things, but confused wasn’t one of them. He knew what he had to do.

  He ordered his driver to turn around.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

  San Miguel de Allende, Mexico

  Leila’s heart sank as she nervously looked around her. The house was stunning, but its occupants weren’t. Behind Sáez stood three men in dark suits. They were looking her over as if she were a fresh piece of meat. They made her skin crawl.

  Sáez said, “Don’t be afraid of these fine gentlemen, my dear Leila. They represent foreign buyers who are looking for someone like you to add to their collection.”

  Their collection?

  “But let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Sáez continued. “Let’s get you ready for the auction, shall we?”

  Sáez clicked his fingers, and two men she hadn’t realized were there grabbed her from behind. She kicked the man to her left on the shin with her heel, and he let out a low groan of pain. She screamed at the top of her lungs, a loud, piercing sound that reverberated throughout the first floor of the house. The man to her right clamped his hand over her mouth.

  Mistake. He should have asked Hector what she did to people who pissed her off.

  She bit down hard. She sank her teeth into the fleshy part of his hand, between the thumb and forefinger, with the clear objective of biting right through it. But before she could draw blood, Sáez punched her in the ribs, the blow sending her against the wall. Sáez wrapped his hands around her throat, choking her until she gagged. He pressed his body against hers and began to grind his midsection against her back. She felt his arousal. She wanted to vomit, but there was too much pressure on her throat. No air was coming through. She tried to fight back with every ounce of energy she had left, but he had her completely. She was at his mercy. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t scream, and couldn’t escape.

  Her vision tunneled.

  Then the front door burst open.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

  San Miguel de Allende, Mexico

  The Land Cruiser screeched to a halt. Hunt was ready and out of the door even before the SUV came to a complete stop. He raced to the front door of the house, not bothering to slam his car door shut. He pressed his back against the wall as he waited for Egan and Carter to take their positions on either side of the front door. Hunt stretched his arm and checked if the door was locked. It was.

  He heard a commotion from inside the house. Someone screamed.

  Leila! His heart racing, he looked at Carter and mouthed, “Detcord.”

  Carter let his MP5 fall to the end of its sling and grabbed his backpack. From it he pulled a coil of detonation cord. Even though it looked as harmless as a dock line, the tiny and flexible plastic tube Carter held in his hands was filled with PETN—pentaerythritol tetranitrate—a substance capable of exploding at a rate of approximately 6,500 meters per second. Carter cut off a ten-inch piece. He used duct tape to attach it to the handle and dead bolt. He then connected the blasting cap, the fuse, and the handheld detonator.

  Carter signaled them to move back before he scurried away.

  Hunt nodded.

  The detcord blew with a cracking sound. Hunt was the first to move through the smoke. The front door was half off its hinges. Hunt kicked the door open and went in with Egan on his tail. Leila was twenty feet in front of him, pinned to the wall by a man Hunt quickly identified as Óliver Sáez from the photo Abigail had sent him. Hunt felt a presence to his right but focused on his target, knowing Egan would take care of the other threat. Hunt fired twice, striking Sáez in the upper neck and jaw, his throat spewing a mist of air and blood into his daughter’s face. As Sáez fell, three men wearing dark suits appeared in Hunt’s field of vision. If they were here, they were complicit. Two of the three men reached inside their jackets. Hunt fired four rounds in quick succession, hitting each man twice in the chest. He swung the MP5 sights around on the last man standing. Behind him, Hunt heard Egan’s MP5 bark three times and the sounds of someone falling about and stumbling around furniture. The man in front of Hunt wore an expensive suit and looked like a rich Saudi prince. The man raised his hands in surrender. They hadn’t been inside the house for more than five seconds.

  Then Leila screamed, “Shoot him! Shoot him!” And Hunt did.

  Carter was about to go in when two Range Rovers turned into the driveway. Shit. He peeked inside the house and saw that Hunt had already secured his daughter and was on his way out. Egan was right behind him, covering his retreat.

  “W
e have company,” Carter shouted.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR

  San Miguel de Allende, Mexico

  Valentina Mieles looked at Sophia Garcia as she tried to break free from Nicolás’s arms. She enjoyed watching Nicolás. It was arousing to watch him try to tie Sophia to the bed frame. She had set up a special room in her basement for tonight’s event.

  He flashed her a smile, and she noticed his eyes—cold as a snake’s. She shivered. Sophia was twisting and screaming, unwilling to cooperate. She tried to hold her legs together, but Nicolás pried them apart. Sophia punched him on the chin. He slapped her hard across the face and used the opportunity to tie her legs to the bedposts.

  “Careful, Nicolás,” the Black Tosca warned. “We don’t want to hurt her too much before the show, do we?”

  Sophia must have regained her senses because she lunged at Nicolás from her seated position. The Black Tosca could only admire her tenacity. She was thrashing and struggling with all her might and giving Nicolás more trouble than he’d bargained for. Nicolás punched Sophia in the stomach, and even though she was fifteen feet away, the Black Tosca heard the air expel from her lungs. Nicolás grabbed her hands and tied them together before securing them to the bed frame.

  “Well done, Nicolás. Come here,” she said to him.

  His bottom lip was bleeding. The little bitch had punched him harder than she had thought. She grazed her tongue over the inside of his bottom lip. She sucked away the blood, relishing its rich, metallic taste.

  “There,” she said. “Better.”

  “I can’t wait,” he said, clearly looking forward to what was coming next.

  “Is everything ready?”