“You said they don’t want him dead. What do they want him for?”
“He has power. He’ll be their slave, like the other one, but better.”
Lana stared. The local cartel guys thought they could make Vincent their slave? This was not going to end well.
“So, where do I find him?”
“Go home, señorita. Forget about him.”
Lana laughed dismissively. “Not gonna happen. Now, tell me where they are.”
Reyes sighed and shook her head in an obvious comment on Lana’s sanity. “They have a compound, a hacienda, outside of town. Not far. Go south. There is a big rock that looks like a giant hit it with a hammer. And there is a road. But the hacienda has a wall all around it and many guards.”
“Have you been there?”
“Many times, but I will not—”
“I don’t want your company.” She cut Reyes off, anticipating her protest. “I want to know where in the compound they’re likely to keep him, what building?”
“They will do with him like the other one. It is a small building, a shack, in the courtyard where there is no shade, only sunlight. It has many windows with shutters that can open and close. If the vampire is good, they close all of the shutters. If he is bad, they open and he suffers the daylight.”
“They burn him?”
“It is God’s punishment for his evil.”
Lana rolled her eyes. “What about at night? They can’t control him at night.”
“They do as I did tonight. They bleed him during the day and feed him only a little.”
Lana thought she was going to be sick. This is what they had planned for Vincent? She pounded her fist into the wall, trying to think. She was only one person. She couldn’t take on an entire compound of cartel thugs. They’d happily gut her and leave her to rot. And that was if they didn’t rape her to death first. But she couldn’t abandon Vincent either. She considered calling Michael for reinforcements, but by the time he got down here, it might be too late.
“Is there a time when the guards aren’t paying attention? I don’t know, like a shift change or something?”
The woman tried to laugh, but sucked in a pained breath instead. “This is not a maquila to have bells and clocks. Forget him. Go home.”
“I can’t. He’s . . . a friend.”
“You are a fool,” she said again.
Lana opened her mouth to say, thanks for nothing, but Reyes wasn’t finished.
“If you are set on dying with him, you must act now, today. There is a big delivery and many of the sicarios, the soldiers, are gone.”
“When do they come back?”
Reyes shrugged. “Maybe some very late tonight, many others tomorrow. They do not tell me such details.”
“All right. What else can you tell me?”
Reyes gave her a weary look, and Lana thought she’d reached the end of her cooperation, but then she said, “During siesta, there is only one guard on the shack and very few in the yard.”
“Where is this shack?”
“In the courtyard. It is easy to see. There is nothing but dirt—no gardens, no trees.”
Lana shook her head, then spun on her heel and headed for the front door.
“Go home, gringa. You cannot save him. He is the devil’s creature.”
Lana paused with her fingers gripping the doorknob, her jaw clenched. She told herself it wouldn’t do any good to go off on Reyes, that her energy was better spent planning Vincent’s rescue. But then, from behind her, she heard the glug of the water bottle as Reyes took a drink, heard the woman exhale deeply, the sound of a person relaxing after a hard day’s work. Forcing the words out around the anger squeezing her throat, Lana turned back toward the woman. “We’ll be back. And if I were you, I wouldn’t be here. He’ll kill you. And I won’t stop him.”
Chapter Nine
LANA’S FIRST STOP was the motel where she and Vincent had checked in before going to the cantina. There was no telling where this other vampire—the one Reyes claimed was enslaved by the local narco boss—had seen and recognized Vincent. It might have been at the gas station when they’d first pulled into town, or at the motel, or, hell, just driving by. But with no way to know for sure, she didn’t want to leave their things at the motel. Especially since she didn’t know what the day’s rescue would bring. If Vincent was weak or injured, he might need a safe place to hole up for a few hours. It would have been better if she could track and find Vincent tonight, when he, theoretically at least, could help in his own rescue. Theoretically because he hadn’t been looking too healthy when they dragged him out of the cantina. And if Fidelia Reyes had been telling the truth, they sure as hell wouldn’t be giving him any blood to help him heal, either. Lana couldn’t help wondering if the narcos knew just whom they had on their hands. Yeah, the informer vamp had told his bosses that Vincent was powerful, but did they know he was probably equal in power to Enrique himself?
Lana sighed, thinking all that power might not do him any good if they kept him starved for blood, or burning in the sunshine. She rubbed her chest, trying to ease an actual ache in her heart at the thought of Vincent being tortured like that.
When she arrived at the motel, she parked in the lot of the bodega next door, pulling around back where there was little traffic at this hour. Vincent’s SUV was too noticeable, although she’d probably be glad of all that bulletproofing when she broke him out of his prison. Reyes had said the siesta slowdown later today would be her best chance, but obviously, Lana wasn’t going to take that at face value. The sky was just beginning to lighten, but she still had an hour before daylight. She’d drive out there as soon as she picked up their things, park some distance away, then trek in and scope the place out herself before deciding on a plan.
Walking down the alley, she approached the motel from the back, sidling along the building’s outside wall until she could see the motel parking lot and the street in front of it. Standing in the morning shadows, she stood perfectly still for a few minutes, her eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary. Years of hunting bad guys who didn’t want to be found had made her pretty damn good at spotting when things or people seemed out of place. But she didn’t see anything like that. Maybe the vampire snitch hadn’t told them about her. Or maybe he hadn’t realized Vincent was traveling with anyone.
Once in their room, she grabbed the few things they’d unpacked and shoved them back into the duffels. She left the lights on, hoping that if anyone came looking for her, they might at least be slowed down by the possibility that she was still there. Then, slinging both bags over her shoulders, she headed out the way she’d come, being sure to hang the No Molestar tag on the door first.
Back at the SUV, she threw both duffels into the back and, following Reyes’s directions, drove south out of town. It wasn’t long before she saw the rock formation where she was supposed to turn, saw the bright lights still burning against the sunrise and the high wall of the compound in the distance. She didn’t turn, but continued driving until she could no longer see the compound, figuring if she couldn’t see them, they couldn’t see her either. Then, taking advantage of the SUV’s reinforced undercarriage and four-wheel drive, she turned off the road completely and headed into the desert abutting the compound. She drove until she found a cluster of huge rocks huddled beneath a short rise, then did a 180o turn and backed into the cover of the rocks so that she was hidden from the road, but could still make a quick getaway when she and Vincent returned.
Switching off the engine, she listened to the ping of metal as it cooled, and leaned back, realizing abruptly that the seat was too far back. She was tall, but the seat was adjusted for Vincent’s height and in all the rush and stress of the last hour, she hadn’t bothered to change the settings. Tears pricked her eyes for the first time since they’d taken Vincent. She knew it
was partly exhaustion, but she couldn’t turn off her brain, couldn’t stop seeing Reyes slice Vincent’s throat, the blood pouring in a red flood over his chest as his eyes met hers across the room. She sucked in a deep breath and fought the tears back. That was the one thing that kept her going, the look in Vincent’s eyes when they met hers, the certainty that she would remain free, that she’d find him and break him out.
Turning off the interior lights, she climbed out from behind the wheel and hunkered down on the side of the SUV away from the road. It was much colder outside, the morning sun still too weak to provide warmth, but she needed to use her iPad and didn’t want random flashes to give her away. Fortunately, there was cell coverage out here in the middle of the desert, probably thanks to the very bad guys whose compound she was plotting to invade.
She opened her iPad and pulled up Google maps, quickly locating the town, then expanding outward until she spotted the narcos’ compound. She smiled, thinking that while the drug lords were powerful, they weren’t more powerful than Google. Nor did they have the kind of pull that could get their compound blurred out of the map image. She had a very nice bird’s eye view of the forecourt, which was nothing but dirt, just like that bitch Reyes had said.
The compound itself consisted of several buildings, including more than a few which were detached from the main hacienda, but it was obvious which one was the shack where Reyes had assumed they’d keep Vincent. Lana studied the layout and had a single thought. Not good. She’d have to go over the wall, cross a good thirty feet of wide open ground, disable the guard—only one, if Reyes could be trusted, which she’d already proved she couldn’t be—break into the shack, and somehow get a weakened Vincent out of there.
And there her plans stuttered to a halt. She couldn’t break him out of there in daylight! Fuck. Vincent would be dead weight and he was far too heavy for her to carry over a damn wall. But even if she could somehow manage to carry him, the sunlight would kill him.
Damn, damn, damn.
She closed her eyes and tried to think, but she was just so fucking tired. Her brain wasn’t working the way it usually did. So she tried another tack, breaking the operation down to its essential parts. First, she needed to get in there. She frowned down at the iPad and tried to zoom in on the shack itself, wanting details. What was the building made of? Was there a lock on the door? And, if so, could she deal with it? But the resolution wasn’t good enough and the angle wasn’t right anyway. She could see something that looked like the shutters Reyes had talked about, though, which only confirmed what she already knew, that she had the right building.
And then she thought about the other guy, the vampire who’d snitched to his cartel boss about Vincent. Was he in there with Vincent? She sure hoped not. But if he was . . . she’d simply have to stake him. After all, he’d betrayed Vincent. She didn’t owe him anything.
But they’ve tortured him, a little voice reminded her. They’ve kept him a slave. Was he responsible for his actions under those conditions? Was he even capable of defying his masters?
She dropped the iPad on top of the case at her side, then pulled her knees up to her chest, and buried her face in her arms. This was all too much. She wasn’t some kind of special ops super hero—she was a bounty hunter. Yeah, sure, she was a fair shot, and she was a wiz with a knife. But she didn’t know much about planning a tactical assault. She couldn’t shoot her way out of a crowd without getting a scratch, or leap over even a small building in a single bound.
She rested her head back against the warm metal of the SUV and sighed. No, she was no superhero, but somehow, she would figure out a way to rescue Vincent. Because she knew if the tables were turned, he’d do the same for her.
“Okay,” she said out loud, then continued the conversation in her head, remembering that she was in hiding. First, she tallied up the things she had going for her.
One, they wouldn’t expect her, because they didn’t know about her. She had to believe that. If they’d known, they would have taken her in the club or tracked her down afterward.
Two, she had this cool SUV for an escape vehicle, all bulletproof and slick, and fully gassed up to boot.
Three, she had weapons. Her Sig 9mm as well as the Glock and plenty of extra ammo and, of course, her knives. They wouldn’t hold up against an army, but a guard or two, she could handle. And then there was Vincent. Given the way he’d managed to throw Reyes across the bar, even after being sliced and diced, she figured he was their best weapon. But it might be worth checking his duffel to see if he had anything else stashed—
Lana blinked in sudden realization. Vincent was their best weapon. She stared at the hillside in front of her, at the million and one details revealed in the pink light of a new day. Okay, so she had to break in during the daylight, but what if she didn’t break out until after dark? If she could get into the shack with no one seeing her, she could be there when Vincent woke up and they could break out together. Of course, he’d probably need . . . Fuck. He was going to need blood, and somehow, she didn’t think the nice drug traffickers would have left a bag of blood on a doily-covered tray for his dinner.
She was going to have to be his dinner. Damn. Vincent was going to laugh his ass off about this. He’d be lucky if she didn’t stake him in his sleep when this was all over with.
But first, she had to rescue him.
LANA CHECKED Google maps again, wanting to verify her position relative to the compound. She wasn’t too worried about the hike in. She was an experienced hiker, in good shape, and her combat boots were worn in and good for walking long distances. But if she and Vincent were racing for their lives on the way out, it would be better if they didn’t have to run a mile or more across the open desert to get to their escape vehicle.
The terrain wasn’t completely flat in this part of Mexico. The Sierra Madre mountain range ran parallel to the coast between the ocean and the interior, and the men who were holding Vincent had built their compound so that it was tucked right up against the foothills of those mountains. It probably gave the back courtyard of the hacienda some shade in the afternoon, and having the bulk of the hills at their back likely provided the crooks with a false sense of security. Lana looked at those hills and saw a convenient place from which to spy on the compound. But most of the people who lived around here were probably either too afraid to do any spying, or worked for the cartel and so not inclined to do so.
She studied the map until she was confident she knew where her vehicle was relative to the compound, and had mapped out a trail that would take her there. She knew it was rough—Google’s view of this remote location didn’t include the kind of ground obstacles that could screw up a hiker—but it would at least keep her going in the right direction. Satisfied she’d done everything she could to prepare, she climbed into the backseat and stretched out. She didn’t really expect to sleep, but figured she could at least close her eyes and find her inner Zen for a few hours. Not that there was much chance of that. She was eager to get started, impatient to get her first real look at the compound, since she couldn’t fully plan until she saw what she was dealing with. She set her phone alarm for two hours and closed her eyes.
Twenty minutes later, she was still awake. Apparently, it didn’t matter how tired she was. Her brain had refused to shut down. So rather than drive herself crazy counting sheep, she’d given up. Standing in front of the open cargo hatch, she exchanged her Levis for her black combat-style pants, needing the extra pockets for supplies, and replaced her long-sleeved T-shirt with one that was sleeveless. It was going to get hot before the morning was over, and while she couldn’t do without the jacket, the shirt at least would be cooler. A small bottle of water went into one of her jacket pockets. It was the bare minimum she’d need, but anything more and she’d need a separate backpack. One of the spare mags for her Sig went into the pouch on her harness, the others into the deep pocket on he
r thigh. Her compact first-aid kit, fairly complete for all its size, went into her other thigh pocket, along with a small Maglite. Her Sig was holstered on the harness, with a silencer zipped into the inside pocket of her jacket. She considered taking the Glock, but decided against it. She only had so many pockets and, besides, she was aiming for stealth not firepower. That meant knives, and she had plenty of those. The nine-inch stiletto went into her boot, a six-inch fixed-blade in a sheath on her thigh, and the three-and-a-half inch push button in her pocket. But while she hadn’t exactly come on this trip prepared for combat operations, she was a bounty hunter. Half of her job description was surveillance, and she was prepared for that.
Unzipping one of the inner compartments of her duffel, she shoved her hand deep into the pocket, mouthing a silent aha when her fingers touched her binoculars. They were compact, but amazingly powerful, very handy when sitting outside an apartment waiting for her fugitive to show. She went to grab them, but her fingers closed in on something else, too. Something she only vaguely recognized because she’d bought it a few months ago on a whim, in Mexico, as a matter of fact. But she’d never used it. It was a morphine-filled auto-injector, similar to an EpiPen in form, but with the entirely opposite effect. At the time she’d bought it, Lana had been coming off a retrieval where the skip had been big and mean and not at all happy to discover he was not only being brought in, but by a woman. She’d had a partner for that job, but as often as not, she worked alone. The episode had made her consider what might have happened if she’d been alone and the big guy had decided to fight back. So when she’d seen the morphine auto-injector only a few days later, she hadn’t thought twice. She’d picked up three of them and shoved one in her duffel. The other two were still sitting in her refrigerator back home. But this one was going to come in very handy indeed.
Vincent (Vampires in America Book 8) Page 12