Devil's Dance (Trackdown Book 1)

by Michael A. Black

  She snorted a laugh. “Sounds like some of the low-income sections of Vegas.”

  He was trying to think of something cleaver to say when her arms encircled his neck and she stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. The first one was quick, almost like a glancing blow, but her face lingered close to his and their mouths came together again. This time it was slower, pressing together with a firm readiness, lingering before the inevitable parting. Her tongue flickered, briefly at first, then slowly rotating around over his. His arms encircled her body and drew her closer in an embrace. He was surprised at how firm her body felt, tight and solid, like an athlete’s, except for the softness of her breasts, which he felt pressing against him. The taste of her was exquisite as well, mixing with her scent, which was now a swirl of perfume, muskiness, and, as he finally placed it, coco butter. They stayed entwined in each other’s arms for several long, slow, delicious seconds. Wolf felt the stirring in his groin as he began to harden, and then a sudden flash of anxiety hit him.

  It had been so long …

  Would he be able to perform?

  He drew in a couple of breaths, the doubts gnawing at him, feeling like he was about to run a fifty-yard dash, but not knowing if his legs would move. But he didn’t want this to be fast, He wanted to savor every moment.

  But how much about himself should he tell her?

  In his head he heard himself say, I’ve been in prison. Would that be like pouring a glass of ice water over everything?

  She separated her body from his, keeping hold of his hand and pulling him toward the bedroom door on the left.

  “Come on,” she said, her voice a low whisper.

  His feet felt like lead weights.

  She paused and one of the dark eyebrows rose. “What’s the matter? Don’t you want to?”

  He did, more than anything, but the self-doubt hung over his head like a swinging pendulum.

  “What about the others?” he managed to say.

  “Don’t worry about them.” The trace of a wicked looking smile graced her lips. “Dolly and Brenda are a little bit bi. They like to share, and they’re taking Big Jim along for the ride.”

  That sent another bolt of fire through him. He took another breath.

  “It’s been kind of a long time for me,” he said.

  The wicked smile grew more intense. “Well, I’m sure you didn’t forget how, did you?’

  “No.”

  “Okay then.” She pulled him closer to the open door and he felt himself moving along more readily now.

  “I—”

  “Shhh.” She brought a finger to his lips. “Don’t talk.”

  The feel of her hand on his face erased all doubts and concerns.

  “And remember, baby,” she said. “Whatever happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Thirty-Six Hours Later

  Phoenix International Airport, Phoenix, Arizona

  Wolf watched as McNamara stooped to hug his grandson and then stand to embrace his daughter. Her blue eyes never strayed from Wolf as she stared over her father’s shoulder and the look was pure malevolence.

  He tried a quick smile and wondered, why does she hate me so much?

  It was clear that Kasey blamed him for this upcoming foray into Mexico, even though Wolf had been, in reality, a reluctant volunteer. But he felt it was a whole lot more. She’d been icy toward him since Mac had brought him to Phoenix from Leavenworth. The words came back to him: Looks like he finally got the son he always wanted.

  That had to be it, the reason why she disliked him so much, but there was little he could do about it.

  She probably thinks I’m the one dragging him to Mexico, he thought. When it’s actually the exact opposite.

  But trying to explain that to her would only be wasted breath. At this point, all he could do was go along as backup and try his best to keep Mac safe and sound.

  He thought of this added pressure bore down on him like a weighted vest.

  Still, Mac had been to hell and back more times than you could count, so it wasn’t like he was shadowing a newbie. But all that had been a while ago, and after recalling that incident with Ruiz, as well as Reno and Herc, Wolf couldn’t help but wonder if his friend and mentor had lost a step.

  Father Time catches up to everybody.

  Pushing the doubts out of his mind, he recalled the pleasantness of the night before last. It was definitely the stuff that memories were made of, and Mac sure hadn’t seemed like he was lacking in any way. Although the next morning after Mac had rousted him out of bed, he’d asked Wolf to do the driving.

  He recalled the mischievous grin on Mac’s face as he’d walked both Ms. Dolly and Brenda into the bedroom and closed the door. Sure he was tired the morning after, but who could blame him?

  McNamara had pushed open the bedroom door of Yolanda’s room, rousted Wolf awake, tossed him his clothes, and said they had to get moving.

  “And what the hell did you do with my hat?” he said.

  “What the hell time is it?” Yolanda asked, her voice still creaky with sleep.

  “Zero six-thirty,” McNamara said. “Time for revelry.”

  He thrust open the drapes, flooding the room with a bright dose of sunlight.

  Yolanda pulled a pillow over her head and muttered some profanities.

  After finding his cowboy hat on the floor under Yolanda’s black silk outfit Mac had grumbled something about them being behind schedule, placed the hat on his head, and tipped the brim as he looked at her.

  “We’ll stop back here in Vegas when we get back from where we got to go,” he said, and left Wolf and the girl alone.

  “Where you going?” she asked, pulling the pillow away to look up at him.

  “We got a job south of the border,” he said as he was slipping back into his pants.

  “Mexico?”

  He nodded.

  “Not too smart, boo. They play by a different set of rules down there.”

  “So I’ve heard,” Wolf said. He stood and pulled his T-shirt on.

  The night had been one of infinite delights, and he hoped Mac’s admonishment that they’d be back would turn out to be true. He hoped to see her again.

  “Ah, could I like, maybe have your phone number, or something?” he asked.

  She turned onto her side, holding the sheet to cover her breasts, and reached for a small purse on the nightstand.

  He was amused by her display of sudden modesty after they’d spent the night together. But the mysteries of the fairer sex had always been a conundrum for him.

  Withdrawing a business card from the purse, she rubbed her hand over her face, and heaved a sigh.

  “Oh, I shoulda taken the time to wrap my hair better,” she said. “I probably look like a fright.”

  “You look beautiful.”

  “That’s nice to hear in the morning.” She smiled. “Give me a pen.”

  Wolf patted his pockets and came up empty. Turning, he saw a desk with a pad of hotel stationery in the middle along with a monogrammed ballpoint. He quickly grabbed it and handed it to her.

  As she was scribbling something on the back, three loud knocks came from the other side of the closed door, accompanied by McNamara’s booming voice.

  “You almost ready in there? You ain’t engaging in any more hanky-panky, are you?”

  “Give me a minute,” Wolf said.

  “Okay, minute-man, but hurry up. It’s a long drive back to Phoenix.”

  Yolanda finished writing something on the back of the card and handed it to him.

  “My cell,” she said. “Call me sometime.”

  Wolf smiled and for the first time since getting out of Leavenworth, felt like a winner. He slipped the card into his pocket and leaned down to kiss her.

  Even though it was a lips-only peck, Yolanda saying that she had “morning mouth,” it brought back the pleasant memories of last night and he wished he could crawl back under the sheet.

  “Let’s go,
” McNamara’s voice intruded again. “We got to ship out.”

  For all his early morning rooster-crowing, when they got back to the Escalade Mac tossed him the keys and got into the passenger seat.

  “You drive,” he said. “I gotta get me some sleep.”

  “But I don’t know the way,” Wolf said.

  “The navigation system’s built in.” He reclined the seat and placed his hat over his face. “I already entered the address into the system.”

  He was snoring by the time Wolf pulled out of the parking garage.

  And now, barely more than thirty hours later, they were packed and ready to board a plane for the Cancun International Airport.

  First class and commercial, Wolf thought. The thin bail bondsman had been right. Whoever was behind this had money, and plenty of it.

  McNamara released his embrace and stepped back from his daughter. Her eyes still bore into Wolf with obvious malice. He felt like telling her that he was an unwilling participant but knew it would do little good. McNamara grabbed the extended handle of his carry-on suitcase and began walking toward the escalators which led to the TSA checkpoint. Wolf turned with his backpack as well and felt a sudden tug on his arm. He turned and saw the intense emotion in her eyes.

  “You’d better not let anything happen to my father,” she said.

  She spat out the third and ninth words with special emphasis.

  He was at a loss of anything to reply. All he could think of was to say, “I’ll do my best,” and realized a second later how trite and superficial that had sounded. There was so much more he wanted to say to set things right: that he hadn’t wanted to take this job down in Mexico in the first place; that her father was a man who made his own decisions; that he probably would have gone down to Mexico alone if Wolf hadn’t agreed to go with …

  There was so much more, but he couldn’t find the words.

  He winked and waved at little Chad and then turned and followed in Mac’s footsteps toward the gates. McNamara was already about forty steps ahead of him.

  After showing their boarding passes and ID’s at the first stop, they went through the rest of the screening without any problems or delays.

  As they sat on the bench to lace up their footwear, both of them having chosen to wear army desert boots, McNamara grunted and elbowed Wolf.

  “This whole thing irks me every time I have to go through it,” he said. “Them damn Arabs. You know, all this rigmarole of having to take off our shoes is because you young guys didn’t kick their asses hard enough when you were over there.”

  “Well, if I ever get a chance to go back,” Wolf said. “I won’t make that mistake.”

  McNamara chuckled and jumped to his feet. Wolf couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen his friend so energized.

  “Hell,” McNamara said. “I was just kidding. I’m real proud of the job you all done. That was some good soldiering.”

  Except that I ended up in prison with a DD, Wolf said to himself.

  He tucked the ends of the laces into his boots, army style, and got up. Not planning to stay long, they had only carry-ons, with a couple changes of underwear and an additional set of clothes. Wolf trailed behind once again as they walked to the gate.

  Reynolds, the guy from the law firm, had given them everything that they would need initially: a couple of burner phones with international SIM cards, an anonymous credit card, and an envelope containing instructions on whom to call once they landed. The information seemed a bit on the light side, but Reynolds had come through on the money transfer putting half the agreed upon amount in McNamara’s business account as a show of good faith.

  First class all the way, that bail bondsman, Teddy, had said. Wolf wondered if he was nervous about them bringing back this missing felon. Wolf also wondered about their quarry. So far, all that they knew about him was that he was wanted out of New York on a warrant for child molestation.

  Taking indecent liberties with a minor.

  That could mean a lot of things, and none of them good.

  Despite the presumption of innocence being constitutionally guaranteed, the thoughts of the charge disgusted Wolf. The man had fled rather than stand and defend himself, which usually indicated that he was guilty as hell. But having seen firsthand how short-eyes were treated in prison, Wolf couldn’t blame him for running. But there would be no remorse in making sure he was turned over to the proper authorities.

  This was another thing that Wolf had found troubling. According to the instructions that Reynolds have given them in Vegas, they only had to snatch the offender and bring him to an airfield where he was to be turned over to a group working directly for the law firm. He’d be flown back to the U.S. No problems with messy explanations at the border, no problems with extradition. It seemed like an unnecessary step in the process, and of questionable legal authority. But then again, time was of the essence, according to what that guy, Reynolds, had told him, and a lengthy extradition process would certainly slow down any court proceedings back in New York. The hand-off seemed sort of under the table, but so was this whole bounty hunting thing at times.

  When the law breaks down or doesn’t function, McNamara had told him on the long ride from Leavenworth, somebody’s got to step in and do something.

  An easy snatch, and then a hand-off. Things could be worse. And the pay was good.

  Wolf had asked Reynolds for a copy of the warrant, some pictures of the suspect, and more information about him.

  “All that will be provided to you by our operative in Mexico,” Reynolds said.

  Lots of unanswered questions, thought Wolf. And lots of questions to be resolved.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Somewhere Over The Gulf Of Mexico

  Eagan reclined in the comfortable seat of the Lear Jet as it flew toward their destination. It would be his first trip to Belize, and hopefully his last. Although the cabin was fairly spacious, it still felt cramped to his huge, oversized form. He glanced at Cummins, who was looking more nervous by the minute.

  Maybe the porker doesn’t like to fly, Eagan thought. Probably spent most of his time in military transport shitting his pants or sitting on the toilet. But Eagan didn’t need to him for the grunt work. There were four of his own men, Vipers, as well as Nasim, so the fat lawyer was only there to manage the money transfer. He was extra weight, as far as Eagan was concerned. So were those two bozo bounty hunters. Cummins had been delighted when he heard the details of Eagan’s plan.

  “You do have a point,” the fat shyster lawyer had said. “You know how Victor Delta feels about loose ends. It’ll be easier to take them along thinking that they’re in on the capture instead of trying to deal with another set of bodies here in Vegas.”

  Of course, I had a point, Eagan thought.

  Although Teddy’s mishap appeared to have been attributed to an unfortunate trip down the stairs, with alcohol as a contributing factor, having Reno and his partner show up with a couple of bullet holes in their brains would be bound to arouse suspicion. Especially with one of them being Bounty Hunter of the Year. And even though these two muscle-bound morons were dumber than a box of batteries, they were tough enough and skilled enough not to go down easily. That was why he’d insisted on taking along the four Vipers. For now, Reno and Black Herc were all smiles, thinking that they would take charge of the prisoner from Wolf and his buddy and transport him back to the U.S.

  “It’s a way of covering our tracks thoroughly,” Eagan had explained to them the previous day. “We’re staging in Belize, so there’ll be no official record of the two of you ever setting foot in Mexico. Plus, you’ll collect the bonus when we land Stateside.”

  “And we’ll be stealing another one from good, old Big Mac,” Reno had said. “They do all the work, and we get the glory.”

  “And the money,” Herc said.

  Eagan laughed along with them, all the while thinking that these two idiots had taken one too many blows to the head. It was almost too simple. In o
ne fell swoop he’d eliminate all the loose ends, not only for this one, but the Iraq fiasco as well.

  Yeah, he thought; I like dealing with morons.

  Reynolds knew what all the parties looked like and would be a familiar face to offset any suspicions on the part of Wolf and McNamara at the drop. And Kunish, Harper, and Wells were all combat-tested and capable. Plus, Kunish could sub as a helicopter pilot should anything happen to the guy that was lined up down in Belize. And Reno and his black buddy would serve a purpose, too. They thought they’d be going down to steal the perp from Wolf and McNamara. But Eagan had Zerbe spread a bit of pre-mission intel that the possibility a couple of trouble making gringos might be smuggling weapons into Mexico. The authorities would be on the lookout for them. Later, when all the bodies were discovered, it would look like the gringos, who would be identified as American bounty hunters after Accondras, had shot it out with each other and perished. All the loose ends tied up in a nice little bow.

  It would be a quick in and out mission. Once they had the artifact in their possession, everything else, and everybody else, could be jettisoned once they were on this jet back to the U.S. Von Dien, Victor Delta, would get his precious Lion Attacking the Nubian, or whatever the hell it was.

  The Lion, Eagan thought, remembering Fallotti’s phraseology. The most valuable part. Kiss my ass.

  It wouldn’t be long and he would be on his way to an extended, luxurious, and perhaps permanent vacation somewhere in the Caribbean. He couldn’t care less about the rich old fart and his expensive trinkets.

  He rotated his neck to take out some of the kinks and caught Cummins staring at him. Their eyes locked and the fat lawyer looked away.

  The thoughts of a possible double-cross flashed in Eagan’s mind, but he quickly dismissed it.

  No, the old man wants the artifact too much to risk trying to cut me out, he thought. But after he has it …

  He pushed that thought out of his mind. He was safe at least until after Victor Delta had the thing in his greedy little hands. And if he was planning something, he would have sent someone much more capable than Cummins to supervise the transaction.