by Amy Jarecki
Luke tapped his lips, foreseeing all the problems moving in so quickly might cause. “You’re not worried Morales will think he has a mole?”
Garth chuckled, shaking his head as if Luke’s concerns were unfounded. “Zambada gave us the perfect excuse. The bastard’s going to strike back sooner or later. Heck, half the staff is placing bets on where. Not to mention, I’ve ensured Zambada’s name is being leaked in every bust. It’s just a matter of time before he rears his ugly head.”
More convinced, Luke nodded. “I like it.”
Even Mia smiled, thank God. She’d been shaken by fear, and hopefully seeing how she was helping law enforcement infiltrate the cartel.
“The only problem,” Garth continued. “Is Dr. Labastida doesn’t exist. It’s as if Morales has flown to the moon.”
“What?” Mia sat up, and tugged Luke’s sleeve. “Yes, Labastida does exist, he did my…” She pointed downward. “You know.”
Knitting his brows, Luke studied her. “Where was the procedure performed?”
“In his surgery in Culiacán.”
“I guarantee you, there’s not even a dog named Labastida in Culiacán—and the phone number you gave us has been disconnected—led us nowhere,” said Garth. “Got my intel from the world’s most thorough and trusted informant.” Who would be Asa. That woman could unbutton some insanely twisted data, though she’d obviously scored zip with Morales’ present whereabouts.
“At least I thought we were in Culiacán.” Mia chewed her fingernail. “Marco drove me.”
“Do you remember anything about it?” Luke drummed his fingers on his thighs.
“It was dark. It was a long drive. There was a building—the surgery. I slept the whole way home.”
“Culiacán is good sized—there’s a river and a bridge,” said Garth, his gaze directed elsewhere—probably a topical map projected on one of the monitors in the sit room by Asa.
“I don’t remember seeing a city.” Mia’s eyes shifted back and forth. “We turned down an unpaved road and before we got to the surgery, there was a house, with trees—like avocados. I-I remember seeing an avocado on the ground after I got out of the car.”
“A grove of trees?” asked Garth.
“Yes, in rows like a plantation.”
“What was inside building?” Luke asked. Jeez, there had to be a hundred avocado plantations between the hacienda and Culiacán.
She shrugged. “It wasn’t a hospital. There was a waiting room and I was ushered to an exam room by a nurse—she’s the only person I saw besides the doctor.”
“Do you remember if there was any equipment?”
“It just had a bed—and a tray with tools for the surgery.”
“Doesn’t sound legit,” said Garth.
Luke scratched the stubble on his chin. “The doctor did say he was taking Morales someplace he’d never be found.”
Mia nodded emphatically. “That’s right, and if El Padrino doesn’t want to be found, he’ll vanish. Mark me.”
“Marco is still in the hospital in Buenos Aires,” said Luke. “What about paying him a visit, boss?”
“He’s Morales’ inside man, right?” asked Garth.
Mia nodded. “He and Juan were the most trusted.”
“Then I say no. We’re not ready to show our hand, but I’ll put surveillance on him—and the guy who’s waiting to bring him back.”
“Paco,” said Mia.
“Right.” Garth held up a finger. “Good work you two. Keep the intel coming. I want Morales out of hiding sooner rather than later.”
“And then what will you do with him?” asked Mia.
“Arrest him,” Garth gave her a pointed look that only an ex-Marine could pull off. “We have more dirt on Vincent Morales than you can find in an entire poppy field.”
“And there’s more to come, sir.” Luke used the touchpad to move the pointer to the end-call button. “Over and out.”
“I can’t believe Dr. Labastida doesn’t exist.” Mia crossed her arms tightly. “Do you think he’s even a real doctor?”
“I’ll bet he is. Morales isn’t about to entrust his life to a someone who hasn’t gone to med school. My guess is Labastida was probably a doctor who was jailed for some misdeed—maybe malpractice.”
“Like you were a pilot who ended up in jail?”
“That’s right. Maybe good ’ole El Padrino makes a habit out of springing professionals as long as they vow to be loyal subjects.”
“And he pays them to keep their mouths shut.” Mia rubbed her hands. “The boss said good work to us both—does that mean I’m a spy?”
“Sure does, sweetheart.”
“It’s almost like having a real job.”
Sometimes Mia said the most confounding things. She still hadn’t opened up about her past, and Luke hadn’t pressed her. On one level, she realized living at Hacienda Paraiso was close to being in a fantasy but, on the other, she was very naïve about the world outside. He supposed it didn’t matter as long as he was there to protect her. And he intended to be.
Running his fingers through her soft hair, he pondered Mia. It didn’t matter where she was from or what she had done. What mattered was that she not only had become an asset to the op, she turned out to be so much more. But what would happen when it was all over? When it was time to return to ICE? Luke would be assigned to another corner of the world, but where would Mia be?
Not with Morales.
His jaw twitched.
And then the unmistakable repeating fire of automatic weapons crashed through his thoughts.
***
Luke sprang to his feet, his gaze darting in the direction of the gunfire. The shrieking beep from the walkie-talkie on the conference table demanded to be answered.
Luke grabbed it and held it to his lips. “What the hell is going on?”
“The front gate’s under attack. There are hundreds of them.”
“Zambada?”
“Who else?”
“Sound the alarm. Reinforce the perimeter. Now! I’m on my way.”
He hooked the comm on his belt and offered Mia his hand. “Is there someplace you can hide?”
The girl’s face turned ashen as her eyes popped. “Do you think they’ll attack the house?”
“Anything can happen.”
“There’s the wine cellar…w-will you go with me?”
Gunfire continued to pop as Luke headed for the door. “I need to head to security—got to see what’s going on.”
“Then I’m coming with you.”
“I’d feel a whole lot better if you were out of harm’s way.”
“You honestly think I will be safe in the cellar? If Zambada’s men break in here, there’s no place in this house I can think of where they won’t find me.”
“What the hell have you done in the past?” He checked his SIG to ensure it had a full clip.
“We’ve never been attacked like this before.”
He tugged her hand and headed out the door. “That’s right, Morales ensures the fighting is kept to the streets of towns like Nogales so he can kick back in his fantasy world.”
***
“Wait. I need to get something,” Mia said as she ran for her room. El Padrino had warned this day might come. She’d forgotten about it until now. But ages ago, he’d give her an envelope to keep in her purse—it was still there. Of course it was sealed, but it had money and credit cards—things she might need if she was alone and on the run. She grabbed her purse off the desk and slung it over her shoulder. “I’m ready.”
Luke rolled his eyes. “Women and their purses.”
The gunfire grew closer. She peered around Luke’s arm as they entered the security center. Mia liked it there—she had always marveled at the equipment, though Marco had been the only one who ever let her touch anything. That’s how she’d learned where all the cameras were placed. Little did Marco know she could memorize pictures so well.
“Where are they now?” Luke asked, mo
ving toward the monitor showing flashes of light.
“Still on the fence line.”
“Show me the satellite view.”
Mia’s jaw dropped. Marco hadn’t shown her a view from the sky.
The security guard looked surprised as well, but he moved his mouse and clicked on an icon at the bottom of his screen. “Si, señor.”
“Jesus.” Luke drew his hand down his mouth, looking at the image, subtly illuminated in blues and grays. “There’s an entire army out there.”
The guard moved his mouse, pointing at a vehicle moving up the drive. “Morales men have backup on the way.”
“Which is?”
“The truck with a mounted 6-barrel Gatling gun.”
“That’ll help. What about night vision? Are they gonna be able to see their targets?”
“Spotlight.”
“Great. That’ll make them sitting ducks.”
“El Padrino’s men aren’t exactly an elite army,” said Mia.
“Well, they ought to be.” Luke stepped closer to the monitor as the truck opened fire, flashes of white blasting from the gun. It swept back and forth for several minutes before they turned on the spotlight, and then the satellite image homed in on the beam, with everything outside it going dark.
It seemed effective as they fired at the men running through the trees, but as they spread out along the wall, it was all but useless.
“What now, boss?” asked the guard.
Luke glanced back to Mia. “We’re outnumbered. Eventually they’re going to make their way to the house.”
Mia nodded, the gunfire was already closer.
“Have you contacted El Padrino?” she asked the guard.
The man’s eyes shifted to the phone. “Si.”
“What did he say?” asked Luke.
“I left a message. You know no one ever reaches El Padrino directly.”
Mia pursed her lips.
“Well, he won’t be any help to us now.” Luke picked up the comm and pushed the button. “Fan out. Do not, I repeat, do not let them near the house.”
He pulled a big, black gun from the rack on the wall and jammed in a magazine, then tapped Mia’s elbow. “Come with me.”
“Where—?”
Pressing his finger to his lips, he shook his head and said nothing until he led her into the garage. “I need to get you out of here.”
Things were happening too fast. Yes, she’d heard about the shootings and battles between the cartels, but it never happened at Hacienda Paraiso. All the citizens for miles surrounding the plantation were loyal to the Morales Cartel. How did Zambada get this far? Worse, Luke planned to take her away when he was needed most? “What about the others?” she asked.
“They’re not part of my plan.”
“But Zambada will kill them.”
“Not if they’re smart.” He climbed into the passenger side of her golf cart. “You’re driving. I’m taking shotgun.”
Mia was liking the idea of hiding in the wine cellar better by the moment. The repeating gunshots carried on the night wind made her obey though she still didn’t understand the rationale behind his decision. “Are you crazy? What about the hundreds of men with rifles out there?”
“Oh, you saw those?” he said sarcastically. “Did you think for a moment, that’s why I’m getting you out of here? Take the back gate and drive for the airfield. If you didn’t notice, Zambada’s men haven’t got the place surrounded yet.”
Mia turned the key and pushed the gas pedal. “That makes me feel a whole lot better.”
“Keep your head down and drive.” Holding the rifle to his shoulder, Luke looked like Rambo, sweeping the weapon back and forth. And thank God he was. There were real bullets flying out there.
Turning due north, Mia pushed the pedal as far as it would go. She crouched so far down, she could barely see over the steering wheel, her fingers gripping like a vise, her every muscle clenched.
Luke shifted sideways with a sudden movement. He fired three fast shots.
Gasping, Mia ducked below the flimsy dash while the golf cart fishtailed. With the humidity, her sweaty fingers slipped as her breath came in quick pants, her heart thundering in her ears.
She jolted again when Luke’s fingers clamped around her elbow and urged her up. “Easy does it. You’re doing fine.”
Cowering behind the wheel, she pressed on the pedal as hard as she could, but the stupid thing was too slow. Luke leaned his body far outside the cart. Grabbing the side support, he swept the gun in an arc.
Flashes of light came from the distance, followed immediately by rapid fire. Mia ducked again, practically laying on the seat. Why did they make a run for it in her golf cart? Why did they leave the house?
Luke leaned over her and fired toward the flashes. Mia tried to pop her head above the dash, but he grabbed the steering wheel and turned.
“We’re going to die!” she shouted.
“Not on my watch. Just keep pushing the pedal.” He fired the gun again. It was so loud, she couldn’t hear the motor of the cart for the ringing in her ears.
It took forever to reach the airfield. And when the wheels hit the smooth pavement, Mia chanced a backward glance. She saw nothing. The grove of trees was shadowy at best, lit only by moonlight. Still crouching and gripping the wheel for dear life, Mia drove straight to the metallic glimmer of the plane.
A new wave of fear gripped her guts. She’d never been in El Padrino’s Gulfstream before—or any of his planes. The few times she’d left the hacienda, she’d been chauffeured by Marco. Did she want to fly away? Yes. But where?
“What about the others?” she blurted again, unable to erase the image of the men fighting along the south border. Though not friendly, they were the only people she knew. She didn’t want them hurt.
“You can’t worry about them now. And if you stayed, you’d be the first Zambada would take. He’d try to use you as bait to lure El Padrino into a trap.”
“It wouldn’t work.”
“That’s why I’m getting you out of here.”
As soon as she braked, Luke hopped out and shoved a key below the airplane door. Slowly it opened, revealing a set of steps. Shouting voices came from behind. “Hurry. They’re coming.”
Mia hesitated for a millisecond. What other options did she have? Luke was right, if she stayed, she’d probably be captured—and though the Aussie was the best fighter she’d ever seen, even he couldn’t stand up to a hundred Zambada mercenaries. I have no other choice. Shielding her head, she dashed up the steps while gunfire blasted from the trees.
Mia crouched on the airplane floor, praying Luke would make it inside while his gun let go in a barrage of constant shooting.
When he stepped in and pulled the door shut, Mia took a breath for the first time since boarding.
“Buckle yourself in,” he growled, dashing into the cockpit.
Rising to her hands and knees, Mia searched for a seat that wasn’t near a window. She crawled to the back while the engine roared to life. Gulping back her fear, she pulled herself into the leather chair and fastened the seatbelt.
In a sudden volley, bullets pummeled the fuselage.
Every muscle in Mia’s body tensed as she sank her fingers into the armrests and curled into a ball.
The plane started moving, turning at first, then picking up speed fast.
Metal pinged as the enemy fired.
“Please God, save us!” she shouted—gripping, shaking, ready to jump out of her skin.
Her stomach felt like it dropped to the floor as the plane tottered, the nose pointing upward. The engine ground and sputtered. The entire plane shuddered.
“Please God, please God, please God!” Mia squealed with her eyes squeezed shut.
As if her prayers were answered, the flight smoothed. Mia looked toward the windows but could see nothing but dark sky. She sat totally still, listening. The engine hummed peacefully. Certain there were no more bullets hitting the plane, she unbuckled
her seatbelt and dashed to the window. The wing dipped as they circled. Down there, the outline of the hacienda looked incredibly small. Lights flickered. The truck with the machine gun was heading back to the house. Had they stopped Zambada, or had his mercenaries seized the vehicle?
There’s no way to know. A hollow void spread through her chest.
“I’m happy to report no stray bullets hit the fuel tanks. You’re welcome to join me in the co-pilot’s seat,” Luke announced over the intercom.
Mia glanced to the round speaker in the ceiling and swallowed against her throat, sore from screaming. Where would they go? Wherever it was, El Padrino would send someone after her. She could only pray that when he did, he would understand why she ran.
She covered her mouth with her palm. But this is what I’ve always wanted.
Then she shook her head. Yes, she wanted to be free, but even more than her freedom, she wanted to live without being afraid of El Padrino’s retribution. The problem? I know he’ll find me.
Chapter Twenty
Mia was still in the rear of the plane when Luke donned the headset and called Garth. She was riled, but he couldn’t deal with that now.
“Talk to me.” More gravelly than usual, the CO’s voice rumbled in the headphones. But then it was nine p.m. Mountain Time, which meant three in the morning in Iceland.
Luke explained about the Zambada attack and his hasty getaway. There was no use standing and fighting when they were outnumbered, and he had the perfect excuse of needing to take Mia away before she fell into the hands of those monsters. El Padrino may have thought he’d insulated himself by killing his family but a man only had to listen to The Godfather talk to realize he was insanely jealous about Mia. His bloody pet.
“It’s about time Zambada made a move.” Garth sounded like he was waking up. “I’m surprised it hasn’t happened sooner.”
“Yeah, but I thought we’d have more forewarning. Morales’ enemies have never attacked Hacienda Paraiso in the past because it’s surrounded by allies.”