Savage Love

by Lisa Renee Jones

  Minutes later, Candace and I enter the dining room to find Asher, Smith, and Adam at work on laptops. They also have donuts and coffee. I drag Candace to a seat next to the donuts, which places me across from Adam and Candace across from Smith. They have coffee. We’ll fight them for it if necessary. “Where the hell is that dipwad, Adrian?” I ask, opening the donut box.

  Adam smirks. “He loves you, too, you know?”

  “Of course, he does,” I say. “I’m just so damn lovable. A teddy bear with a gun. Everyone likes to play with a teddy bear with a gun.”

  “And bad jokes,” Smith snipes.

  I snort. “Says a guy who wouldn’t know a joke, if it came up, bent him over, and spanked his butt cheeks red.”

  “He’s not a dipwad,” Candace says, claiming two coffee cups and setting one in front of me, while I claim an éclair and offer her one, which she happily accepts and sets on a plate. She loves the shit out of éclairs.

  “Adrian or Smith?” I ask while she grabs my éclair that is now on the table and sets it on a plate.

  “That’s wasted effort,” I say, picking up the éclair and taking a bite.

  “Neither are dipwads,” she says. “What is your problem with Adrian, really?”

  “Gut feeling,” I motion to my gut with my donut. “Just don’t like him.”

  “The dipwad,” Asher says, from his spot at the end of the table, “is scouting Candace’s house. We heard the call between her and Gabriel.”

  “I don’t like him sending her a doctor,” Smith adds, standing to reach directly across the table to hand me the thermal pot of coffee. I take it and fill both cups, before setting down the pot and handing Candace the creamer. “For all we know the doctor could—” he glances at Candace and then me. “I don’t like it.”

  “Kill me?” Candace challenges. “I’m okay with you just saying what you have to say. So how do I get out of this?” She pours creamer into my cup, keep on keepin’ on, despite the new threat to her life.

  “We make sure Gabriel’s ‘doctor’ never gets to you,” I say, taking another bite of my éclair.

  “But how?” Candace asks. “He was adamant. I don’t even think it’s to catch me in a lie. He’s a germaphobe.”

  “I could just kill him,” I say flippantly, between bites and with a scowl at her untouched éclair. “Eat, baby. You have to be starving.”

  She picks up her éclair. “Perhaps just surgically remove his hand?”

  “I do need to keep up my skills.” I grin.

  She does, too, not the least bit rattled by this conversation. Fuck, I love her.

  “I was tapped in for the call between Gabriel and the doctor,” Smith says, removing an earpiece. “That person, a Dr. Moore, is registered with the medical board and nearing retirement. He does house calls for five hundred dollars a visit.”

  Adam eyes me and arches a brow. I eye Asher. “See if you can connect him to Pocher.” I glance at Candace. “I’ll be there in the closet, ready to operate, and not on you, baby, though we can play operation as soon as we get to New York.”

  “You in the closet,” Smith jibes and then snorts.

  “You being there would be good,” she agrees, ignoring him.

  That easy confirmation proves one thing to me. She’s not showboating by going to that party. She really feels it’s necessary. Unfortunately, I don’t disagree. The only way to keep her away from Gabriel is to get rid of him. “Where are we on connecting Gabriel to my missions?” I ask.

  “I called Blake,” Asher says. “I can’t get to anything that exposes him. We’re talking about hacking CIA-level data and Blake is our man.”

  I wave my éclair in his direction. “I thought he was hunting a serial killer?”

  “He’s making time for us anyway,” Asher confirms. “And in other developments, he was able to get a hold of Aaron. He’s meeting us in New York.”

  At the mention of our new Walker recruit, I set down my donut. “Did you see me set my donut down?” I ask. “I don’t set my donut down, but I’m doing it now for a reason. I’ve lost my appetite. If Honest Gabe doesn’t justify my hate for the fucking CIA, I don’t know what does.”

  “We’ve had this conversation,” Adam says. “He’s one of us now.”

  “He is,” Smith agrees. “I hate that bastard, but that’s personal. I still let him watch my back.”

  Adam shoots him a scathing look. “Smith got all bug-eyed over Aaron’s woman, but she was always Aaron’s.” He eyes Candace. “In case we haven’t shared this with you before now, the CIA tried to kill Aaron and his wife, who wasn’t his wife at the time. After framing him for treason. Believe me. Aaron is lethal in all the right ways.” His attention shifts back to me. “If anyone will understand your hate for Gabriel, it’s him.”

  “What did he do for the CIA?” I ask.

  “He killed people,” Smith says. “And he did it without bad jokes.”

  “Well, then I already hate Aaron,” I declare. “Everyone should hear a bad joke before they die.” I reach for my coffee. “You know what happens when a spook chases a spook?” I don’t wait for a reply. “Nothing. They’re both too busy ironing their suits and looking in the mirror to find each other.”

  My cellphone rings and I set down my cup and snake it from my pocket to find the call I’ve been waiting on: Kane Mendez. Another man who spends a little too much time spiffing up his fancy suits, but he balances that with just the right amount of blood on his hands, perhaps even more than me. And I’m about to make him our man. I answer the call, “Can you talk?” he asks in his lightly accented voice.

  “Give me five minutes.”

  “I’ll call back.”

  He hangs up and I kiss Candace. “I need to take this.” Without giving her and the Walker team time to ask questions, I stand up. Kane and I have a history and this call needs to be handled in private.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Savage

  The Past…

  My target: Juan Carlos Miguel.

  Member of the Mendez Cartel and a rogue asshole running a sex shop with kidnapped women and girls for sex, really young girls.

  My mission: Kill him.

  Sometimes I love my fucking job.

  On this particular weekend, he’s staying at a fancy South Hampton mansion owned by billionaire oil mogul Kane Mendez. The oil empire is legit, and Mendez swears his uncle took over the cartel when Kane’s father was murdered. My ass. If that were true why the hell is Juan Carlos staying at his property? Whatever the case, none of the Mendez lot are smart. The security system at the rental is outdated, easily dismantled, and Juan Carlos has one single pathetic guard with him. Me against two. I’ll take those odds.

  I scale the exterior wall protecting the property, no longer protected by the security system, my tech guy, Nicolas, turned off ten minutes ago. I clear the top and jump, sand catches my fall, silencing my drop to the ground. I squat, staying low, scanning the moonlit property, nearby waves crashing onto rocks and shore—the wind rushing over me, salt on my lips and tongue that will soon turn to blood.

  With that one guard inside the mansion with Juan Carlos, and my line of sight and hearing clear, I move freely through the thickest of the shadows, and I’m at a window at the side of the house in a few seconds. With practiced skill, I use a special tool, tap the glass just right and reach in and unlock the window. I’m inside the mansion in a few seconds, the darkness that greets me like a cloak I welcome. I give my eyes a few seconds to adjust, and then move through a sitting area of some sort, before heading up the stairs.

  Nicolas speaks into my earpiece. “Target’s on the outdoor lounge area and balcony. His guard is standing on the west side inside an alcove.”

  I don’t reply, nor does Nicolas expect me to. He’s too skilled, too familiar with this job—a tech genius, geek in glasses, who is also a killer. I almost like the guy but not really. I clear the second level and enter a dark hallway, flattening on a wall. In the distance, a muffled acce
nted voice is speaking in Spanish, a one-sided conversation which means a phone call, something about a meeting that will end quickly.

  I’m about to make my move when Nicolas warns, “Wait. Whatever you’re doing, wait. Fuck me. Kane Mendez just drove up in a fancy sports car.”

  Of course, he did, I think. A two-for-one, but hell yeah, I’m all in. I eye a door that appears to be a closet, open it, confirm it is indeed an empty closet, and step inside. Voices echo and then shift, and a full five minutes later, I crack the door, confirming the voices are now coming from the outdoor area. Two voices. Nicolas seems to read my mind and confirms. “Juan Carlos and Kane are both outside at a table drinking whiskey. The guard is back in the alcove.”

  I ease out of the closet and step into the hallway.

  I hope Juan Carlos and his buddy Kane Mendez are enjoying an expensive pour since it will be their last.

  It doesn’t take me long to cross the fancy living area and step through the open door into the alcove on the East side of the balcony. I share the same view the guard will own on the west side. As Nicolas indicated, Juan Carlos sits at a table opposite Kane Mendez, each holding a whiskey glass. Kane is wearing an expensive ass suit, custom fit and shiny. His dark hair is slicked back, his goatee trimmed perfectly. Juan Carlos is in jeans and a T-shirt, his thick hair curly and natural. Kane holds himself arrogant, confident, in control. Juan Carlos is cocky, on edge, shifting in his seat.

  He’s nervous.

  Interesting.

  “I didn’t expect to see you here tonight, Kane,” he says.

  “I could tell you that I’m here to check on my guest,” Kane replies, “but that would be a lie.” He doesn’t offer an explanation. “Why are you here?”

  “I have business to attend to for your uncle.”

  “He doesn’t know of any meetings.” Kane doesn’t sound pleased.

  Juan Carlos laughs. “This is between me and your uncle.”

  “If this was between you and my uncle, you’d be dead right now.”

  Juan Carlos pales. “What are you talking about?”

  “My father was a killer, Juan Carlos. A brutal killer. I hated him. My uncle is a brutal killer. I hate him as well. But both of them treated women with honor. My uncle has reason to believe that you do not share those beliefs and are in fact running a slave trade under his name. We know you’re here to negotiate the sale of a young girl.”

  Holy hell, I think, drawing my weapon. I might actually have to save Kane Mendez’s life.

  Juan Carlos sneers and his hand shifts under the table, and I watch the shift of steel above his lap. “You are not a part of this.”

  “Here’s what’s going to happen,” Kane says as if Juan Carlos hasn’t spoken, “you will release the women and girls at the US border and offer them each twenty thousand dollars. Should you not do this, you will die. Every person who you sold a woman to, will be found, and you will buy back, out of your pocket, their freedom.”

  I am liking this Kane Mendez fellow.

  Juan Carlos stares at Kane, seconds ticking by before he abruptly stands and points the gun at Kane. I shoot him right between the eyes. Kane rotates toward me. “Behind you!” he shouts, pulling his weapon.

  I have a split-second to decide what I trust and my gut wins. I point my gun over my shoulder, intending to shoot, but I never get the chance. Kane fires his weapon and the guard falls to the ground beside me. A second later, Kane and I are holding weapons on each other. “You didn’t come for me or you would have let Juan Carlos kill me,” Kane supplies.

  “And you could have let the guard kill me just now,” I offer.

  Our eyes lock and at the same moment, we lower our weapons. Mine right at the holster at my side, his under his jacket, in a similar holster. “Dumbass didn’t even check you for a weapon,” I muse.

  “He wouldn’t dare,” Kane says. “I’m Kane Mendez, but I suspect you know that. I’d say you owe me your life but you saved my life. I paid you back.”

  “I respect the hell out of your balls and your marksmanship.”

  “Well a man does like to have his balls appreciated,” Kane says no change to his expression.

  I laugh. “Rick Savage. And you’re right. I didn’t come for you but I would have killed you, even if you saved me.”

  “But?”

  “But you were here to save the women.” I laugh. “Your cousin runs the cartel. I’ll say what I thought when you got here: my fucking ass. It’s you. This is all you.”

  “No,” Kane sharply. “I’m not my father or my uncle.”

  “I just heard you give orders only a cartel leader could give.”

  “There is value in being my father’s son when it comes to stopping bloodshed and torture, but believe me, if I could look away, and walk away, I’d do both, but I cannot.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s all about a woman and what saves her life while saving me in her eyes.”

  “A man speaking my language. Amen to that, brother.”

  ***

  Present Day…

  I step onto the hotel patio with that first encounter with Kane on my mind. It was our first. But it was not our last. He’d contacted me, a magician that had managed to find me when no one could. I’d done him a favor, helped him protect his woman from Pocher himself.

  My cellphone rings and I answer with, “Kane Fucking Mendez.”

  “Rick Savage,” he replies, his accent just rich enough to have a perfect “fuck you” flare without ever saying the words. That’s not his style. He’s not in your face like I am. He’s smooth as silk and as lethal as a Black Mamba. “Why did I know that one day you’d ask for a favor?”

  “Because I saved your fucking life, Kane.”

  “I do believe I saved yours as well.”

  He’s not wrong. He did. “And I got rid of a problem for you. Now we have a new problem, a mutual enemy.”

  “So you said on the voicemail. Who?”

  “Pocher.”

  He’s silent a moment. “This line is clear but not clear enough for this conversation, but you have my full attention.”

  “Mine’s clear.”

  “I’ll call you back.”

  He disconnects, and he doesn’t have to say more. He’s in. He’s all in. Screw Aaron the ex-CIA Spook. Kane Mendez is the man for this job, right after me.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Candace

  After Rick’s quick departure to take a call, the room is awkwardly silent, which tells me the Walker team knows something I do not. I don’t like this idea, and I’m not one to remain silent, but my gut says that I need to just wait on Rick, talk to him.

  Besides, Asher’s quick to begin quizzing me with a list of names that I might know through Gabriel. People he thinks connect the dots that might prove Gabriel has broken laws. The list is long and I down another cup of coffee while getting through a small portion of it.

  The guys are already debating what’s for lunch when Rick finally returns twenty-five minutes later, exploding into the room as only Rick Savage can do in a rush of testosterone and oversized personality.

  “What did I miss?” he asks, claiming the seat next to me, kissing me and then immediately grabbing another donut.

  “What did I miss?” I challenge.

  He winks. “Me, I hope.”

  “Rick,” I warn softly.

  “Just calling in a few favors to make sure this ends our way, baby. I’ll tell you more later.” He eyes his watch. “We need to get you out of here soon.” He pretty much inhales the donuts in about two bites.

  Smith grabs another donut himself and uses it to motion to Rick. “Adrian and two other men have eyes on Candace’s house and street. They’re ready when you and Candace head in that direction.” He takes a bite. “Are we getting pizza or what?”

  “Yes,” Adam says. “Now. Order. I’m sick of fucking donuts.” He grabs a donut anyway and takes a bite. “We need to talk about the party Saturday night.” He glances at
Rick and then me. “Are you going?”

  “I am,” I say. “Do we have a plan to ensure that Gabriel doesn’t expect me to leave with him or do we care?”

  “Handled,” Rick says.

  “Handled?” I ask, confused and surprised, considering it wasn’t handled an hour ago.

  “All us macho men protect our women, baby,” he teases. “You know that.”

  “You mean cavemen?” I challenge.

  “Whatever,” he says. “I said I called in favors. I did. A friend is going to contact Gabriel today and tease him with a big donation. He’ll offer him a private plane after the party.”

  My brow furrows. “Okay, but what keeps Gabriel from taking me with him?”

  “That friend is going to make sure it’s a one-on-one meeting.”

  “How do you know Gabriel will even be interested?”

  “Money talks, baby,” he replies. “And this friend has plenty of it.”

  “Tell me it’s not Kane Mendez,” Adam snaps.

  My gaze jerks to Adam and then Rick. “Who’s Kane Mendez?”

  “A drug dealer,” Smith replies before Rick can respond.

  My eyes go wide. “What?” I flick Smith a look, but it’s Rick I focus on. “Rick, what?”

  “Smith’s a dweeb,” Rich assures me. “Kane Mendez is the CEO of Mendez Enterprises. He’s not a drug dealer. His father was, his uncle is. He is not.”

  Smith snorts. “Give me a break. It’s widely believed his uncle is his cover story.”

  Rick scowls in his direction. “I bet you believed it when the girls told you it was them not you when they broke up with you, too, didn’t you? Or maybe that Bigfoot exists? I mean it’s widely believed to be true, right, man? Or maybe you believe—”

  “Kane Mendez is calling Gabriel,” Adam assumes. “Why do I know there’s more to this?”

  “You haven’t been listening there, now have you, Jelly Bean?” Rick says. “Pocher is Gabriel’s money man and Kane Mendez is Pocher’s enemy. Kane can’t call Gabriel and have Gabriel do shit. Grayson Bennett is how we get Gabriel out of town tomorrow night.”