The set of Diaz’s jaw told her he didn’t like what he was hearing any more than she did. She dug for more information. “Baz wants you to go to Mexico?”
“Mexico City, actually,” Chuy said. “He mentioned the Secret Service.”
She and Diaz looked at each other before turning back to Chuy. “The United States Secret Service?” Diaz asked before she could.
“Yeah. Why?” Chuy said, looking back and forth at their frozen faces.
Her sense of unease grew. “When’s the mission, Chuy?”
“He didn’t give me any dates. Just told me to be available in January.”
Something she’d heard on the news registered. She turned to Diaz. “Isn’t that when the presidents of the US and Mexico are having their summit meeting?”
Diaz nodded. “In Mexico City.”
“What’s in Mexico City?” Rios looked down at them, hands on hips.
Engrossed in their discussion, no one had seen him return from the bathroom.
She forced a bright smile. “We were just talking about the summit between our countries’ presidents.”
“Oh, that.” Rios grunted. “Everyone in my agency is helping with planning and security. I’ll have my orders as soon as I get back.”
They spent the next twenty minutes eating and chatting about international politics. Rios kissed the back of her mother’s hand on his way out, bringing a blush to Lorena’s face that was as deep as the frown on Diaz’s. Tension filled the confined space when they got into the lieutenant’s sedan.
She sat in the front passenger seat next to Diaz while Rios rode in the back. At one point, Veranda thought she felt the federale touch a strand of her hair, but she wasn’t sure. By the time they arrived at Chuy’s garage, she’d gotten drowsy.
“Give me your key and wait here,” Diaz said. “I’ll clear the apartment.”
She tugged out her key ring. “I’m going in with you.” At his stubborn expression she added, “It’ll be safer with two of us.”
“Three of us,” Rios added from behind them.
Diaz regarded him in the rearview mirror. “You don’t have a gun.”
“I was what you Americans call special ops in the Mexican Army before I became a tactical officer with the PFM,” Rios said, a note of contempt in his voice. “I don’t need a gun to kill someone.”
Damn, Veranda thought. He was every bit the badass he looked.
Diaz grunted his consent. “Let’s get this over with.”
They got out of the car and climbed the steps to the apartment over the shop. Veranda drew out her new Glock, still surprised at how different it felt. She’d worked with armorers at the range, filing the grip’s edge and smoothing the action until her previous piece suited her. She’d have to put another thousand rounds through the new pistol to bring it up to par.
Unlocking the door, she crouched and entered with her gun in low-ready position. Hundreds of hours spent training with her fellow officers enabled her to know what Diaz would do without verbal communication. Rios trailed her as Diaz split off to the far end of the main room and into the closet-sized bathroom. She checked the kitchen and bedroom. All clear.
She holstered her gun and plopped down on Chuy’s worn sofa in the main room.
“The briefing at SAU starts in three hours,” Diaz said. “Rios and I will pick you up on our way there.” He pulled a phone from his pocket. “Here’s your new cell. It’s already charged. I put the number on the back with a sticky note. Memorize it.”
“Thanks.” She took it. “I’ve got another set of tactical gear. I’ll grab a nap and change into fresh clothes.” Fatigue beat at her. “I’m starting to crash.”
“If you don’t mind, I’ll use your bathroom before we head out,” Diaz said. “Too much coffee this morning.”
She nodded and sank back against a sofa pillow. Rios sat beside her and scooted in close after Diaz left the room.
“You don’t have to be so tough all the time,” he said. “Lean on someone else for once.” He reached behind her and gently pulled her toward him, laying her head on his shoulder.
After the adrenalin rush from her encounter with Daria, followed by one fitful hour of rest and then rich food at her mother’s house, Veranda couldn’t fight the debilitating exhaustion any longer. She wanted to relax for a minute, nothing more. Rios settled her back and stroked her hair. He whispered soothing words to her in Spanish and her weary eyes drooped. She released a deep sigh.
“What the hell are you doing, Rios?” Diaz had emerged from the bathroom. His harsh bellow brought her upright, bleary-eyed and blinking.
“Comforting her,” Rios said. “She’s had a difficult—”
“She doesn’t need any comfort from you,” Diaz said.
Rios stood. “What are you saying, cabrón?”
Embarrassed without knowing exactly why, Veranda stood up on unsteady feet. “You two need to leave.” Utterly spent and fresh out of patience, she shoved them out the door and locked it behind them.
Their argument continued as they descended the stairs. She couldn’t imagine how they were sharing a living space. Then she decided she didn’t care and staggered to the bed, where she peeled off her clothes and fell on top of it, drifting off to sleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.
She dreamed of a snarling black wolf crouched low, ready to strike. A white wolf pounced on the black wolf’s back. The two beasts savaged each other, rolling over and over until they melded into a single gray wolf. The lone wolf began to howl. She sensed it calling to her. The howl turned into a loud hum, and she awakened to the buzzing of her cell phone on the night stand next to the bed.
Head full of cobwebs, she picked up the phone and checked the screen. Only one hour had passed. She answered the call.
Diaz’s voice cut through her mental fog. “I’m sending a patrol unit to pick you up in five minutes. The SAU briefing’s been moved up.”
They wouldn’t shorten valuable prep time unless something had gone wrong. She heaved her sluggish body out of bed. “What happened?”
“The cartel breached the firewall,” Diaz said. “They got into the server and downloaded our current files before we could stop them.”
“Including the search warrant and the raid?”
“Yes. They know we’re coming.”
29
The manacles chafed Daria’s wrists as she eased herself down to sit on the cold cement floor. Craning her neck, she followed Salazar’s movements across the open space inside the main building of the Phoenix armory. He paced like a caged panther, then halted to glare at Nacho.
“What the hell is a haboob?” Salazar asked him.
She strained to hear Nacho’s answer. “Dust storm. They get pretty bad in this part of Arizona.” Nacho raised a hand to indicate height. “A giant wall of dust—can be over a mile wide and five thousand feet high—rolls through the valley like a brown tidal wave. Visibility goes down to less than ten feet. Lasts three to four hours, give or take.”
Salazar changed gears, demonstrating his tactical experience. “What’s the exact time they’re planning to execute the operation?”
Both of them acted as if she didn’t exist. As if they didn’t owe her their lives. She was the one who’d taken Cruz’s phone, but Salazar had reaped the benefits when Nacho cloned it before the police shut it down. She’d been chained to the wall for hours when Nacho rushed out of the workshop, papers in hand, to show Salazar a printed copy of an operations plan. The police were preparing to raid their location.
Nacho shuffled through the pages. “They use military time. The memo says fourteen hundred hours. That’s two o’clock.” He looked back up at Salazar. “It’s noon now, so we have a couple of hours to get out before they come.”
Salazar slanted an irritated look at Nacho. “You don’t understand operations. That wor
ding means they’ll deploy at fourteen hundred. They’ll form a containment perimeter long before that.” He lapsed into a pensive silence and resumed pacing.
As much as she despised the bastard, she appreciated his military expertise. His background in special forces gave him insight into the SWAT team’s tactics. Studying their operations plan in advance, he might find a way to escape.
Salazar stopped in front of Nacho. “How long does it take to drive here from downtown Phoenix?”
“About twenty minutes without traffic.”
Salazar ran his index finger along his goatee. “Then they’ll leave their facility at thirteen hundred and begin staging around the perimeter thirty minutes later. We’re down to one hour to avoid running into them. That’s not enough time to empty the building.” He swung out a hand to indicate the room around them. “We’ve consolidated most of our assets here, stockpiles of weapons, armor-piercing ammunition, computer equipment, and our last shipment of narcotics. We need several trucks to haul it away, but we only have three vans and a Jeep.” He paused to glare in her direction.
Two days ago, Daria had dispersed their long-haul fleet, sending tractor-trailers loaded with contraband in every direction. They weren’t due back for another week.
“Won’t the dust storm keep the police from staging ahead of time?” Nacho asked, his voice tentative. “The front came in around ten o’clock this morning, so it won’t be completely clear until two.”
“The weather is in our favor. They would have already had a helicopter or drone monitoring our movements, but their operations plan says air support is grounded until thirty minutes after the storm passes.” He frowned. “Unfortunately, the same weather traps us here.”
Nacho straightened. “I just remembered something.” He dug his phone from his baggy pocket and peered down at it. “I started a track on Agent Manuel Rios’s cell phone when he arrived in Phoenix two days ago, he’ll be—”
“He’ll be with the group coming to get us,” Salazar cut in, giving Nacho a rare smile. “We’ll know when they approach, and from what direction. This may save us yet.”
Daria felt her jaw drop open as hope sparked in her chest. She snapped her mouth shut before Salazar noticed her reaction. Nacho had sent the program to track Rios and contact files from the Mexican police server to her secure system, which she could access from her mobile device. That is, if Salazar hadn’t confiscated it.
Nacho gazed at Salazar, his young face filled with reverence bordering on awe. “Thank you, sir. But we’re still in danger.” He paled. “You’ll find a way out for us, um … that is, me and Sofia, we can come with you, right?”
“I have no choice.” Salazar turned toward Daria. “Because of you.”
She kept her composure under his withering glare. Once she remembered what was on her phone, the vague shape of a plan began to take form. She had to buy time for the idea to percolate.
“I can help.” She lifted her chin. “I always have a backup plan.” She started to stand, preferring to make her case on a more equal footing.
Salazar quickly closed the distance between them. “Stay where you are.”
She had made it to her knees before he stopped her.
“Learn your place, puta.” He waited a beat, extending her humiliation before getting back to business. “Your last backup plan is the reason we’re in this mess.”
Salazar had taken her dignity, her position, even her freedom, but she wouldn’t let him take her future. The bastard would help her escape from the police, and then she would kill him. Personally. Painfully.
She swallowed her resentment. “We can go to my explosives facility at South Mountain.”
“You seriously think I would listen to a single word you have to say?”
She blurted out her proposal before he could interrupt with another insult. “It’s on the far side of the city. Nowhere near here. The police will expect us to make a run for the border. They’ll have every major freeway and minor roadway watched. But we won’t do what they assume. We’ll hide out a while, then move when they’re not looking.” She tipped her head toward Nacho. “Thanks to him, we’ll know what they’re up to.”
“Perhaps the rest of us should go there without you,” Salazar said.
She’d anticipated this, and the lie slid easily from her lips. “I’m the only one who knows where the security devices are hidden and how to deactivate them. If you don’t bring me along, the buzzards will pick at whatever’s left of you.” She held up her arms, chains clanking. “Take these off and I’ll help pack.”
“You’ll try to escape.”
“I’m a wanted fugitive. Where will I go?”
He regarded her for a long moment before he snatched the phone from his belt and tapped the screen.
Moments later, José entered through the rear service door. “You need me, Señor Salazar?” His eyes darted to her, widening in surprise.
Of all the coyotes, he’d summoned José, her favorite plaything, to see her on her knees. She bit back a shriek of impotent rage.
Salazar beckoned José to his side. “You’re in charge of the prisoner.” He pulled a gun from his waistband and handed it to him. “If she tries anything, shoot her.”
Daria recognized the weapon. Veranda Cruz’s Glock. The sonofabitch had stolen her prize.
Salazar signaled her to stand and began to unlock the shackles. “You and José will stay here and pack product. Do not touch any weapons.” He turned to Nacho. “You and the girl gather up the computer equipment in the workshop.” The chains rattled to the floor. “I’ll be outside organizing the rest of the men to load the vehicles.”
Salazar and Nacho left. She was alone with José. Eyes glittering with malice, he watched her rub her sore wrists, then ambled toward her, a lascivious smile curving his mouth. “You’re mine now.”
She redirected him. “I have to pee.”
He pointed at a stack of cream-colored bundles the size of bread loaves with the barrel of his gun. “Señor Salazar expects those to be packed when he returns. There’s no time to—”
“Please, José.” She made a show of pressing her thighs together. “I only need a moment. You can come with me to make sure I’m not up to anything.” She threw in a flirty wink for good measure.
He frowned in thought, trying to come to a decision.
Damn. The man had the chiseled bronze body of an Aztec warrior, but the brains of a burro. She jiggled up and down, giving him a show and selling her story.
“Okay.” He motioned with the gun again, but this time toward the communal bathroom. “But I’m coming to watch you.”
Exactly what she wanted. She knew what he liked, and how to distract him. When she entered the bathroom, he followed.
She turned to face him. “It’s pretty tight in here. Why don’t you wait outside?”
“I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
Perfect. She would give him something to see. Sliding her hands to her waist, she undid the front of her snug pants and shimmied them down past her hips. Her black lacy panties followed.
She stood there, intentionally displaying herself for his perusal. “I don’t think I can pee with a man watching me.”
His pupils dilated as he stared down at her. She edged closer and laid a palm on his sculpted chest. Years of conditioning had rendered him responsive to her touch. She grinned to herself. Salazar was a fool. He’d summoned José to humiliate her, but had handed her a weapon instead.
José blinked. “What are you doing?”
When his eyes landed on her mouth, she ran her tongue across her teeth and bit her lip. She felt the rumble of his deep groan and tipped her head up in invitation. While he fought a losing battle with his self-control, she reached back with her free hand.
Her fingers found the smooth surface of the sink, sliding around its rim as José crush
ed his mouth against hers. Her pinkie bumped against the chipped ceramic mug that held the men’s toothbrushes. She barely managed to snatch one out before José cupped her bare bottom and hauled her against him.
She writhed and moaned to cover the sound of the toothbrush head snapping off when she bent it with her thumb. The shiv she now held, crude but effective, changed everything. Within minutes, she’d have her weapons, her phone, and her freedom.
But first, she had to maneuver herself into position for the perfect strike. There would only be one chance. She planted her feet and made sure her arm had full range of motion. José’s rough palm slid away from her backside and over her hip, plunging down between her legs. Feigning excitement, she bided her time. His ragged breaths filled her mouth. Tasting his desire on her tongue, she widened her stance as much as possible, allowing him better access. He pressed his body against hers as he accepted the implicit offer. His probing fingers pushed inside her. She broke the kiss, gazed into his lust-filled eyes, and drove the plastic handle’s jagged tip deep into his neck.
30
Veranda’s gaze traveled along the row of black-clad tactical personnel. Silent sentinels, they stood with their backs against the walls of the oversized Special Assignment Unit briefing room. Like most of the others in the room, she also wore black BDUs and a ballistic vest. Only the SAU team stood, everyone else sat at the conference table in the center of the room.
Her eyes found the wall clock. 12:15. Sergeant Grigg, every bit as massive as the room around him, wore a perturbed look on his rugged face. The team leader viewed the safety of his SAU operators as his personal responsibility. And this situation offered no safety whatsoever.
Grigg turned his cobalt blue eyes on her. “I should’ve known this would go to shit, Cruz. You’re involved.” She knew the sergeant harbored a soft spot for her under layers of ornery exterior.
“Not my bad.” She held up her hands in surrender. “I don’t control the weather or the cartel’s hacking skills.”
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