9 Ways to Fall in Love

by Caroline Clemmons

  However, that violence and killing shit stayed in Mexico. Scott wouldn’t stand for that in the US. If those idiots spread that crap into his country, they could expect a boot up their ass and an all-out war.

  ***

  Albin Burr opened the door to his hotel room and removed his jacket. The heat had sweat running down his back. After turning down the air-conditioner, he kicked off his shoes and slumped into the only comfortable looking chair in the room.

  After napping for an hour, Albin washed his face, put on his shoes, left his room and got into his rental car. He had contacts here in the area. They would get him all the supplies he needed.

  Driving on Interstate 10 toward the US 54 Expressway, Albin mentally reviewed what he’d learned about the area so far. He always checked the shooting site before doing anything else. Even the person he was to kill. He had to pick his spot, and from that position he would know the rifle, scope and bullets needed.

  He spent the rest of the afternoon searching for just the right place to set up shop. He not only had to hit his targets, he had to be able to get away unscathed.

  ***

  Brody jumped out of the Jeep before it came to a complete halt and bounded onto the porch of La Hacienda. He kicked the door open and went in with a gun in each hand, a grenade in each pocket, and a knife in the scabbard on his belt. If anything happened to Kate the whole fucking place was coming down.

  “Kate,” he called out. “Where are you?” Brody walked from room to room but didn’t see a sign of Kate anywhere. His senses told him she was nearby.

  Then he heard a soft thud. Then thump. He followed the noise to the kitchen then into the pantry. He waited with his ear against the door. Then it happened again.

  Brody stepped back, raised his right foot and kicked in the door. The hinges gave way, and the wood splintered. Then he saw Kate. Blood covered the left sleeve of her shirt. She’d been shot. The brightness of her eyes told him it wasn’t life threatening. Thank God.

  A dirty gag divided her lips. Her hands were tied behind her back, and a man was using her body as a shield. The coward held a sharp knife against Kate’s pale throat.

  “I figure you’re Angel Diaz.” Brody said.

  Through gritted teeth, Diaz said, “You move, she dies.”

  Years of living on the edge had taught him well. No fucking way was he going to lower his guns or back off. Both barrels were pointed right at Diaz’s head.

  “From this distance I can put two bullets between your eyes before you can blink.”

  “But she will die.” Fear-generated sweat peppered Diaz’s face, and his hand shook. Obviously another one of Chavez’s men who didn’t make his living cutting throats.

  “Maybe, but my guess is she’s dead anyway. As long as you’re breathing, her life is in jeopardy.” Brody lowered his chin and glared. “Right?”

  Diaz looked like he was about to piss his pants.

  “You drop your weapons or she dies.”

  “You’ll die first.”

  “No he won’t.”

  The padre’s voice came at Brody from the right. When Brody took his gaze from Kate, the dark eyes of a hideous monster stared back. “You both die.”

  Brody swung the gun in his right hand at the padre. “So, I was right. You’re no man of God. My guess is your name is Youssef el Jibar.”

  “You need not worry about my name. Only that you and this woman will die here today.”

  “Where is Oscar?”

  “He is on vacation,” Diaz said, his grip on Kate tensed. “He went to Mexico City.”

  Kate looked like the knife had already been plunged into her heart. A nebulous undertone of regret crept into his thoughts.

  Angel screamed. “What the fuck is this about you being Youssef el Jibar? I ain’t dealing with no fucking terrorist. Oscar will kill you.”

  “Shut up,” el Jibar shouted. “You are just a pawn in this game. A disposable pawn.”

  “You get your fucking ass out of La Hacienda. I have men here who will enjoy tearing you apart.”

  The look on el Jibar’s face told Brody they were the only the four in the house.

  “Shut up, fool.”

  Slowly Brody stepped back, forcing them out of the pantry and into the bright kitchen. Brody continued to aim his guns at Diaz and el Jibar. He had little choice. With a gun pointed in his direction and a knife at Kate’s throat, Brody could do only one thing.

  Drawing in a deep breath, and having clear line of vision, he trained one sight on Diaz with Kate and the other on el Jibar. Silence became an entity that filled the room and evaporated all the air.

  Brody exhaled slowly through his lips and at the same time, pulled both triggers.

  ***

  President Davis met Frank, and together with Doug Morgan they walked through where the president would stand at the hotel and where he’d sit at the dining room table. Everyone agreed Doug and Frank would escort the president back to his room and two trusted Secret Service agents would be stationed outside the door.

  Davis poured a glass of bourbon and offered Frank a glass, but he declined. Frank had a golden rule: booze and guns didn’t mix well. He needed every instinct sharp as a Samurai sword. There was no margin for error on this job.

  “Does everything pass your inspection, Frank?” Doug asked.

  “Tony and I are going to Chamizal National Park soon. “If anything is going to happen that’s as good a place as any.”

  “I don’t think a shooter can get in the Park with a weapon.”

  “I doubt he’ll be in the park. Mac has to check out the most likely spot for a sniper to be. Could be further than a football field away.”

  “The advancements of modern weaponry.” Davis said.

  Frank knew something was up but he had to wonder if the person behind this would do something as simple as a sniper shot during a presidential speech. There were dozens of ways to take out a target. He knew that because he’d done his share of Objective Removals.

  But this was the President of the United States and he should be the safest person alive.

  Chapter 24

  Brody’s heart rate accelerated so fast he thought his chest would explode. Slowly, Angel crumpled to the floor. Only when the bastard went limp, did he glance at Kate.

  Her paleness shocked him, and he reached out before realizing el Jibar had fled, leaving splatters of blood in his wake. A surge of satisfaction zipped through Brody’s body. At least he’d wounded the terrorist. Hopefully, he’d crawl off somewhere and die.

  Weak and bleeding, Kate slumped in his arms, relief evident in her softened features. He untied the filthy rag gagging her.

  “Brody, I was afraid you wouldn’t make it in time.”

  He cut the ties on her wrists. “I came as soon as I figured out Father Ayaaya was Youssef el Jibar.”

  She lay on the floor, her head cradled in the crook of his arm, a gentle hand stroking his unshaven jaw. “I never put it together until he brought me here. You heard, Angel didn’t know who he was until el Jibar told him.”

  Brody checked Kate’s wound. The red puckered skin, and the small divot in her arm. Fury rattled his common sense, and made him want to shoot someone. “Yeah, I take it Angel wasn’t aware of el Jibar’s involvement.”

  She licked her dry lips. “I don’t understand where a terrorist comes in either,” Kate said.

  “After we raided La Hacienda, we learned Chavez was stockpiling money in what he thought was a safe off-shore account. Turns out the money went directly to support el Jibar’s terrorist organization.”

  “But surely Oscar would eventually find out.”

  Brody helped her stand. “Yeah, but in the meantime, el Jibar took all he could get.”

  Wobbly, Kate shoved her hair away from her face with shaking hands, and forced a smile to reassure him she would be okay. “You make that sound a lot easier than I know it is.”

  “Chavez was cutting a large share of his profits and putting them into
three separate accounts in the Cayman Islands.” Brody leaned down and kissed Kate’s cheek. “That way those who had their hands in his pockets didn’t know how rich he really was.”

  Kate brushed off the back of her pants and lifted her head to the sound of an approaching plane. She smiled at Brody and said, “I hope that’s Jake.”

  “It is, and we’re off to El Paso, sweetheart.”

  ***

  Pacing, Monique punched Ron’s cell number, and chewed on her bottom lip while waiting for him to answer. Just before the system would have dumped her into voicemail, Ron’s voice carried from the other end. “Hello, Monique. What do you want?” He sounded angry, as if she’d pissed him off or something.

  “I called to see if you’d arrived okay.”

  “Had there been an incident, it would be all over the news.”

  She closed her eyes at the brutality and frost in his voice. Sadly the realization crashed into her with the quickness of a slamming door.

  He’d never intended to marry her. Like all the men in her life, he’d used her in every conceivable way. She had no future with him, and she’d been a fool to think differently.

  Desperation pushed her to continue in a last ditch effort to salvage something...anything. “Ron, I was thinking...”

  “What?” he practically shouted. “What the hell do you want, Monique? I’m busy.”

  “I know you are. I just wanted to talk to you about us.” Their future, their lives, dreams. Monique frantically clung to the sliver of hope left.

  “You don’t get it do you?” he hissed.

  Unease and silence grew into a maddening shriek. With a trembling chin, she asked, “What, I can’t call you?”

  “I don’t want you to call me again. You’re too needy and too fucking stupid to be a first lady. Your goddamn whining drives me fucking nuts.” The acid in his voice singed her. “I’m through. Go find someone else to play with.”

  The phone went dead, and her stomach knotted into a ball that shriveled to the size of a dried up grape. Angry hot tears poured from her eyes as her dreams drifted away like an unanchored boat in a storm.

  Her whole life had been about being someone people would look up to and respect. As the phone slipped out of her palm, she realized she’d sold her soul for empty dreams and delusions.

  Shattered, she shut her eyes. She swallowed as her heart shattered into a billion pieces. No, she didn’t love Ron, but she loved and craved what he could do for her. How he could help her become the person she wanted to be.

  Opening her eyes, she threw a pillow against the wall and screamed so loud the hanging pictures rattled. Then she went around the room destroying everything that mocked her and all the things she’d done to become the perfect first lady.

  Monique yanked closet doors wide then she ripped down dresses and tossed shoes. She screamed and cried uncontrollably. She wanted to hurt someone as badly as she hurt. Make them suffer until they were on their knees in agony.

  Then as suddenly as the torrent of rage started, the roar stopped, and she stood completely still. Unexpected laughter spilled from her lips as she realized how to hurt Vice president, Ronald Patrick Rafferty. Oh yes, she could be quite clever.

  Sit back and watch while I shred your dreams, you bastard.

  Tossing aside strewn clothes, Monique smiled when she found her cell phone, relieved it hadn’t broken when it slipped from her hand. Tightening her lips she dialed Ben Reed. He answered on the first ring.

  “What the hell are you calling me for? I’m home with my family.” As if his family meant something to him. Hypocrite.

  She looked into her full length mirror and licked her lips, and took a cleansing breath.

  “I just talked to Ron and he’s worried. I am too. What could go wrong?” Monique deliberately kept her tone soft and sweet. The whole while she wanted to reach out and cut off his precious little dick.

  “It’s probably that damn Frank Hamilton with Falcon Securities. That man’s a real fucker for details.” Ben paused, and she heard his footsteps. He was probably moving out of his family’s hearing range. “If he gets even a whiff of anything not kosher, he won’t stop until he gets to the bottom of whatever’s going on.”

  “I don’t know him, but he sounds like our worst nightmare.” Ben covered the mouthpiece and his muffled voice drifted to her ear. “Just be calm. I have a few surprises for Falcon Securities.”

  “Oh, okay. I’m sorry I called. I just got so worried.” She faked a sigh.

  Ben snorted. “Stick to fucking, baby cakes. That’s what you do best.”

  Monique pressed the End Call button with all the confidence of a winner. The face looking back at her in the mirror held a calculating, evil, deadly smile.

  ***

  Brody helped Kate into the plane and closed the door behind them just as Jake revved the engine. “Let’s get the hell out of here,” Brody yelled.

  Jake turned as Brody buckled Kate into the seat. “Is Kate hurt?” he asked. Concern darkened his features. A civilian or anyone else getting caught up in Falcon’s mess was his worst nightmare. “Does she need a doctor?”

  “No, Jake,” Kate answered. “Just a flesh wound.”

  Brody wasn’t buying it. Her pale features and raspy breathing told him she was either in shock or had lost a lot of blood. As Jake taxied for takeoff, Brody knelt beside her and tore the sleeve off her shirt.

  He practically choked when he cleaned the red swollen wound. She was right, it looked like a flesh wound, but it was Kate’s flesh wound, and agony clawed at his chest like a wild beast.

  He couldn’t blame anyone but himself. All because he’d kidnapped her, dragged her into the battle between him and Chavez. Since arriving, she’d suffered more than anyone.

  “It is a flesh wound, but you need stitches.” He pulled out the first aid kit and wrapped her arm with gauze. “We’ll get it taken care of in El Paso.”

  “I’m just exhausted,” Kate said. She bowed her head against his chest. “I feel so sleepy.”

  “Sounds like loss of blood,” Jake said over the engine’s roar.

  “It’s not that deep,” Brody replied. “I think she may have just run out of adrenalin.” He didn’t know if he believed it or not, but it sounded logical.

  “I’m fine,” Kate muttered.

  Struggling to stay on his feet, Brody stood and made his way to the passenger side of the cockpit. The bright blue sky did little to raise his spirits.

  “I see regret all over your ugly mug,” Jake said in a strangled voice. “Sorry you got her into this shit?”

  “Hell, yes, I’m sorry. Don’t know why you ever agreed to let me take her out of the country.”

  Jake straightened and turned to Brody. “Me? You’re blaming me for this?”

  Brody rubbed his eyes and let out a frustrated breath. “No, it’s all on me.” He’d lost his goddamn mind.

  “Call Zoe and tell her we need medical as soon as we hit El Paso. She’ll set up everything,” Jake instructed.

  “Yeah, including chewing me up and spitting me out.”

  “Not Zoe, but Frank sure the hell will.”

  ***

  Wearing casual jeans, a black T-shirt, and comfortable shoes, Falcon agent John ‘Mac’ McKinsey crawled from one corner of Chamizal Park to another but couldn’t find a decent place for a shooter to take out a target at the podium. Too much greenery, no high area for a straight-line hit, and no good escape routes. Even with a military quality scope it would be impossible for a shooter to be inside the park and take out a hit.

  He widened his search to the outer perimeter, but still couldn’t find a good perch. Mac took out his cell phone and called his boss. “No sight here.” Mac said. “I can’t find a single place I’d set up shop. Could be by accident or deliberate, but it would be really hard to take out the president in the park.”

  “What do you think?”

  “My bet is on the Convention Center.”

  “Inside?”
<
br />   “If planned right, a person could pull it off. I’m on my way there now. I’ll let you know what I find.”

  “Mac, to your knowledge has Burr ever taken an inside shot?”

  “No.” Few assassins took that kind of risk unless the mark was in a house alone. “But that doesn’t mean he can’t change his MO. Lots of times these guys shake it up a little and do something completely unexpected,” Mac said.

  “If it happens at dinner, there could be a lot of collateral damage.”

  Mac continued to meticulously scan the area. “Depends on his target. We’ve been concerned about President Davis. What about President Gomez?”

  “We sure as hell don’t want anything to happen to him. That could cause an international incident. But its Davis I’m worried about.”

  “Has Tony heard any rumblings?”

  “He has his ear to the ground, but he’s also trying to find Chavez. He left Mexico with A.J. earlier this morning.”

  Mac let out a deep breath, and licked his lips with weary hope. “Okay, I’ll keep checking. I’ll also try to find Burr. It’s best I try to contain him before tomorrow night.

  “Do you think he’s the type of assassin that would mow down a room full of people?”

  Mac thought briefly. Killers were hard to figure out. Some were methodical, while others played it loose, and some just did what had to be done. Burr didn’t fit any of those. “He’s ex-military. He’s precise, educated, and damn good. Only someone with a minimal amount of skill would tear up a room full of people. Burr has his orders, and he knows what he’s doing. The only people he’ll take out will be the target and anyone who stands in his way.”

  “Keep in touch. I’ll let you know as soon as we find a break.”

  The frustration in Frank’s voice touched Mac’s chest and he wished things could be different, but in his line of work it rarely got better before turning ugly. Usually things went to hell pretty fast in the jobs Falcon agents did. Frank spent more sleepless nights than anyone Mac knew. But it was all in the game.

  ***

  Zoe had just finished faxing Albin Burr’s flight schedule to Frank when the phone rang. “Falcon Securities, this is Zoe. How can I help you?”