by Kylie Brant
But her mind kept creeping back like a thief in the night to worry at the pronouncement. Because there was a whole lot that Cael had left unsaid. Far more that Samuelson had neglected to mention than she’d originally believed.
Their relationship didn’t explain—not by a long shot—the antipathy that apparently existed between the two men. Because if McCabe hated his father, it had been apparent at the meeting in Sanders’s office that Samuelson harbored no tender feelings for Cael, either.
A knock sounded on the door then. De la Reyes looked up from his phone call as a guardsman poked his head inside, caught Ava’s eye. She strode over to the half-opened door to watch as Vice President Quintero, his expression long-suffering, was frisked by two of the guardsmen. Satisfied, Ava nodded and the man was allowed to enter the room.
A moment later the president ended his phone call and got up to greet the man, before the two of them sat at the table in the far side of the room, conducting their business in undertones. Immediately her mind began to wander again.
She’d do well to stop contemplating the relationship and hatred between Samuelson and McCabe and start worrying about herself. About her son. Cael may have been exaggerating things to win her assistance, but she suspected there was a small kernel of truth in his professed concern for her. Namely that Samuelson would retaliate against her if she refused to help him. It wasn’t difficult to believe that he’d learned of her father’s identity.
There was a slight rise in voice level from the two men at the table, and Ava diverted her attention sharply, assessing the scene for possible risk. A moment later they were back to near whispers. Her instincts heightened, she pushed aside personal distractions to focus on the task at hand.
Although she wasn’t yet sure how, she was going to make damn certain this whole thing didn’t come back to touch Alex. Resolve steeled inside her. He’d sounded so shocked on the phone when she’d told him he had a grandfather. So angry when he’d accused her of lying. She’d refused to tell him her father’s name yet. That couldn’t be done over the phone. But when her son learned the truth it’d be from her. Not from Cael or Samuelson.
With dark humor, she considered that at least the earlier conversation with McCabe had forewarned her. She just needed to come up with a way to protect her son from a powerful government official and a dangerous ex-special ops soldier, in between the task of guarding the president of San Baltes with a shrinking security force.
Piece of cake.
* * *
“Miss Fuente has announced her plan to go out for an evening of nightclubbing.” Cael’s voice was carefully expressionless. “I’ve suggested to the president that it might be best that she not return, at least until we get a better handle on security here. He was initially reluctant, but eventually agreed.”
The details of that particular conversation came as no surprise to Ava. She’d been within earshot of the heated exchange. Marissa had spent dinner arguing with de la Reyes about her “banishment.”
“Our job,” Cael stressed with noticeable inflection, “is to make sure the exit from the compound goes smoothly and that the guardsmen are aware the limo won’t be allowed to reenter. We want to minimize our risks here.” He looked at Sibbits. “You’ll be on duty with Gonzalez so you won’t be able to help us out with that. Benton will stay on shift with de la Reyes, but I’ll update him on the plan.” His gaze switched to Ava. “That leaves both of us to prepare the guardsmen on duty. You take the outer perimeter and I’ll take the inner.”
“So you want me to be sure the outside perimeter is clear before opening the gate for the limo. And ensure it doesn’t get back inside until further notice.” Cael’s nod had satisfaction flickering. It wouldn’t be a hardship to see the end of Fuente for a while. Ava wasn’t sure how much longer she could take of the woman’s baiting without decking her. “Any word from Reynolds?”
She could tell Cael’s answer from his expression before his answer. “No.” A muscle twitched in his jaw. “But there’s nothing we can do about that until the rest of the team gets here.”
She could read the concern behind the carefully dispassionate tone. Had the fleeting thought that it was only when his emotion was directed at her that she distrusted it.
“I had a conversation with Emmanuel Ortega earlier today,” Cael informed him. “There are military teams covering every residence that Ramirez owns. They’ve turned some informants who are giving them valuable information about the man’s operation. Once he has been neutralized the danger to de la Reyes will drastically decrease.” He smiled humorlessly. “We just need to keep him alive in the meantime.”
Ava wondered if she was the only one in the room unconvinced. If the government had known how to get to Ramirez, he’d have been arrested a long time ago, wouldn’t he? Hopefully the informants could lead the way to the drug lord. At any rate, their job here hadn’t gotten any easier.
Which made Fuente’s upcoming departure the hands-down highlight of her day.
* * *
The woman was taking her sweet time. Ava consulted her watch. After nine thirty. She supposed the nightclub scene didn’t get really started until much later. Hard to imagine someone wanting to spend a night in a bar full of drunks with an assault of earsplitting music, but she imagined Fuentes went more to be seen than anything else.
The limo had pulled up to the front entrance fifteen minutes ago. Ava had supervised the mandatory body search of the driver, which the man had endured good-naturedly. The vehicle had been cleared before being released to him. Protocol was being followed without a hitch so far. The driver had gone into the palace to retrieve Fuente’s many bags, leaving the driver’s and left passenger doors and trunk open. She’d lost count of the number of trips he’d made out to the waiting vehicle, taking great care to stow the bags in the trunk.
It occurred to her that someone had changed the tires on the car she’d shot out during its stay on the compound. She suspected that task had been left to the driver.
Ava spoke into her wrist transmitter. “Prepare for departure within fifteen.”
“Inner perimeter, check.” Cael’s voice sounded on the radio. He must be in back of the palace, as he was out of sight.
“Outer perimeter, check.” She recognized the voice of the guard at the gate she’d spoken to earlier.
She waited another few minutes, but neither the driver nor Fuente emerged. Rolling her eyes, she spoke into her wrist mike again. “Benton, are we prepared for departure?”
Her skin prickled in the ensuing silence. She heard Cael’s voice next. “Benton, what’s your—”
The rest of his words were lost as a mighty blast rocked the area, sending Ava sprawling.
CHAPTER 9
Disoriented, Ava rolled swiftly to her feet, her rifle in position. She half expected to see the palace engulfed in flames. Was momentarily confused to see it still standing, relatively unharmed.
In the next moment she saw the plumes of smoke rising in the distance from behind the palace and comprehension slammed into her.
Gonzalez’s quarters had been triggered.
Fireballs hurtled like rockets skyward. She muttered an epithet and started running for the house. “Benton, what’s your location?” she shouted into her mike.
“Maintain position.” Cael’s snapped order halted her progress. “I’m in a jeep right now heading toward the captain’s quarters. Benton? Benton?”
After several moments, Cael spoke again. “Carter, check inside. See what the hell’s going on.”
But in the end she didn’t follow that order. She didn’t have to. Because the door to the front of the palace swung open. Dropping back, she took refuge in the meticulously landscaped bushes that surrounded the opulent structure.
The scene on the steps filled her veins with ice. Quietly, she spoke into her mike. “Limo driver is exiting side one, opening one. He’s holding two weapons. One on de la Reyes. The other on Fuente.”
“Do you have a shot?
”
She sighted, felt a surge of frustration. “Not yet,” she whispered back. “But I might get a clear head shot as they move past me toward the vehicle.”
“If it’s clear…take it.”
A deadly calm settled over her. As silently as possible she inched farther back into the shrubs, sinking to a crouch. All she had to do was wait. Ignore the pound and spike of adrenaline and calm her speeding pulse. Give the man time to head to the limo. Once there he was faced with placing two captives in the car. The diversion might provide the clearest target.
A head shot was her only option. Breathing deeply, Ava kept her mind clear of everything but the task before her. With his weapons trained on the two captives, her only chance of avoiding a reflex shot from the driver would be to sever his brain stem. She didn’t doubt her ability if the opportunity arose. She’d had plenty of practice. But first she needed the driver to walk down those stairs. Take several steps toward the vehicle.
He spoke loudly in Spanish. “Weapons down. Pile them at the base of the porch. Or your president is dead.”
With a sinking heart, Ava watched as one by one the guardsmen in the vicinity lowered their weapons. Moved slowly to add their rifles and handguns to the growing pile.
“You two.” He singled out a couple of guardsmen. “Take all of them and throw them in the fountain. Your obedience is all that is keeping de la Reyes alive.”
Move. Just down the steps, you bastard, Ava urged silently. Let’s see what you’re made of when you’re not the only one armed.
“Where is Carter? I want her out here now! Throw your weapons down and hands in the air.” Translating effortlessly, Ava remained hidden, her mind wheeling with alternatives. The driver had seen her earlier. He knew she’d been out here the entire time he’d waited. But he couldn’t be sure she remained here after the explosion, could he?
She sighted again, silently cursing the way he held both hostages close to him, with the muzzles of his weapons pressed against their temples.
“I’ll shoot Fuente first,” the man promised in his native tongue. As if on cue, the woman stopped sobbing and began to scream. “Throw down your weapons, Carter. I will give you three seconds before I shoot her. One.”
Coolly, she weighed her options. De la Reyes seemed frozen, but she couldn’t see his expression. If the driver pulled the trigger, the crumpling of Fuente’s body would provide the clear shot she needed.
“Two.”
But the man hadn’t progressed any farther down the steps. Which meant her only shot was above the ear, taking the chance the bullet could pass through his skull and into de la Reyes’s.
“Three…”
“I’m here,” she shouted. Lowering her rifle, she rose, feeling supremely vulnerable. Her handgun was holstered across her chest, easily visible. She was otherwise unarmed.
“Step out where I can see you. Keep your hands up!”
She obeyed, circling the porch as she emerged, waiting for an opportunity to dive for cover and take a shot if it should present itself.
“Disarm her,” he instructed the guardsmen nearby.
None of them moved.
“Disarm her, or one of them dies now.”
Slowly, reluctantly, a guard moved toward her. His face was grim as he took her rifle. Unholstered her Luger.
“They go in the fountain, too.” After the order, the driver looked at her, his expression cocky. “We do not want to chance having Carter shoot our tires out again, do we? Where is McCabe?”
Ava was wondering the same thing. Her wrist transmitter was on. If he was listening, he should hear enough of the scene to have him heading back.
The question was whether he’d back in time to make a difference.
“He went to check out the explosion site. That’s what you intended, wasn’t it? To divide us?”
“Get up here,” the man instructed in Spanish.
Warily, Ava remained where she was. “Why?”
“Now!”
It’s what she didn’t see in his expression that had her moving forward. There was no fear. No reservation. This man would kill without hesitation.
Once she was on the porch, he ordered her to take up position several feet behind him. With a sinking feeling in her stomach, she did so. “Stay back that far, but follow us to the limo.”
Fuente had subsided to wild keening noises as she stumbled alongside the driver. Ava did as ordered, following them from a short distance, scanning the tableau around her.
The guardsmen seemed frozen. A few of them looked at her, as if for guidance. She gave a short shake of her head. There was nothing any of them could do that wouldn’t put the president at risk.
McCabe, however…if he’d returned from the captain’s quarters…if he were in the vicinity…he might try for a shot.
How good a marksman was he? Ava wasn’t sure. It took well over average skill to make a head shot. It took outstanding skill and luck to make it without killing a hostage as close as de la Reyes and Fuente were to the gunman.
Her stomach plummeting, she recognized they were short on both.
The gunman shoved Fuente toward the open passenger door. “Entrar.” She scrambled in, for once lacking the grace and dignity she usually displayed. The driver nudged de la Reyes toward the driver’s seat and Ava silently cursed. A driver presented a constant target. But the gunman would be hiding low in the seat. Still a danger to the hostages he’d taken.
But providing no shot.
The gunman ordered de la Reyes to close his door, and the president obeyed. Then he turned to Ava and shouted in Spanish, “If a car follows, they die. If I hear a helicopter overhead, they die.” With one gun still trained on the president, he slammed the door. A moment later the limo began to move.
Ava got one last look of de la Reyes as he slowly drove by.
He looked like a man going to his death.
* * *
“He says Benton must go to the hospital.”
“Bullshit,” the operative said weakly from the couch he was lying on in the president’s private quarters. “Tell the quack to patch me up and I’ll be good to go.”
The presidential physician looked at Ava expectantly. But it was Cael she was watching.
“Ask him what a hospital can do that he can’t do right here.”
Without relaying his question she responded, “He should go.” Ignoring the weak protest her words brought from Benton, she continued. “This isn’t a war zone where you slap on a field dressing and call it good. He could have internal damage. And there’s nothing he can do here.”
“The hell there isn’t!”
This time it was Cael ignoring the man. “Okay.”
“McCabe, come on. This isn’t necessary.” The doctor waved two white-clothed medics to lift Benton’s makeshift gurney and carry him toward the door. “McCabe!”
Ava gestured to the man at her side, speaking rapidly to the doctor. “Y ahora usted necesita mirarlo. Vea como es serio sus quemaduras son y los tratan.”
As the man came toward him, Cael looked at her warily. “What’d you tell him?”
“That your burns need to be treated.”
“I’m fine.”
“Yeah.” She didn’t bother hiding her skepticism. “You look fine.” He looked, in fact, like he’d emerged from the depths of hell. His hair was singed, and so was one eyebrow. Black soot covered every bare inch of skin, except the patches on his arms and one palm that were pink and oozing.
The doctor told her in Spanish, “He must wash. Dirt is the worst thing for a burn. Then I can treat him.”
“You need to shower.” Queasiness filled her just thinking of the pain he must be in. “Then he can put ointment on the burns.”
The expression on his face was fierce. “We’ve got a helluva bonfire south of the palace and the president has been kidnapped from under our noses. The vice president will be here at any minute. I’ve got a little more to deal with than a few scrapes.”
�
��Not being treated isn’t going to put the fire out or get de la Reyes and Fuente back. And the vice president isn’t here yet,” she replied calmly. “Standing around acting macho is stupid and accomplishes nothing. Risking infection is even dumber. So give me your room key. I’ll go fetch some clothes for you while you shower and let the doctor treat you.” There was a gleam in his pale green gaze that spelled danger. Ignoring it, she cocked a brow. “I’ll let you take it from there.”
He was silent a moment, his eyes searching. Then he gave a short nod. “I’ve got a plan.”
Adrenaline, recently tamped, flickered to life again. “You always do.”
* * *
An hour later Ava was seated at a table next to Cael, who was dressed in a fresh T-shirt and fatigues. Vice President Quintero sat opposite them, his expression grim as he listened to their terse recital of the events of the evening.
“I alerted Ortega at Justice to track down the identity and affiliations of the limo driver,” he said in English after they’d finished. “But I don’t understand where he got the weapons. It was your job to protect Antonio. The man should have been searched. He should have been—”
“He was,” Ava said flatly. “I oversaw it myself. He had no weapons on him when he drove the car up to the front of the palace. The vehicle was clean, too.”
“Then I do not understand—”
“He may have stolen them from the barracks and secreted them inside the palace. Hell, he may have bribed one of the guardsmen to do it for him. It would be easy enough then to retrieve them when he was carrying out the luggage.”
Ava had her own suspicion on the matter, but decided to remain quiet for now. It was all supposition at this point, anyway. “At any rate, he had the weapons the third trip he made up for the luggage, because that’s when he shot Benton and marched de la Reyes and Fuente down the stairs and out the door.”
“And no one could stop him.” It was clear Quintero wanted to blame someone for the president’s disappearance. “All the armed security, and your team, Mr. McCabe…and no one could shoot this bastard when he was standing right in front of you!”