Hawke's Fury

by Reavis Z. Wortham

  That was the best I could do without knowing the Devil Woman’s name. “I saw you a minute ago, and if you’re hiding back there with a weapon, I’ll kill you just like I killed the rest of those punks out there.”

  I eased around the left side, hoping to see a foot or a leg, while at the same time keeping an eye on the rest of the room and the courtyard beyond.

  “Step out and put your hands up.”

  It was hard to concentrate on that small section of the house when an entire wall was open to lord knows what. Kelly and I had talked about installing one of those folding glass walls in our house, but the one only yards away seemed like an invitation for a whole battalion of bad guys to come marching in. Might have to re-think that.

  Another step brought me near the left side of the island, providing a view of the red Mexican tiled floor and a petite blue-jeaned knee. I drew a fine bead on that knee and stopped, twisted tight as a watch’s mainspring. “I hope you speak English, ’cause my Spanish ain’t that good. You need to know I could shoot that knee I’m looking at and you’d walk with a limp for the rest of your life. You can tell I’m a pretty decent guy, or I’d have already shot. If you have a weapon, put it on top of the island and stand up.”

  Just to be sure she got my drift, I switched to Spanish. “Manos arriba y salgo, o te desparare en . . . esa parte del cuerpo.” At least I hoped I told her to come out with her hands up or I’d shoot her in the knee.

  One way or the other, the knee disappeared. A hand rose, holding a Glock, and gently placed the weapon on the polished surface.

  “Good. Now stand up with both hands where I can see them.”

  “You just said to stand up or you’d shoot me in that body part.” It was a woman’s voice and she was using English.

  “My Spanish isn’t great.”

  “I’ll stand up. Don’t shoot me.”

  “Hands!”

  She stood, what there was of her, in an untucked white shirt and jeans. She couldn’t have been more than five foot three, with thick, black hair. “Don’t shoot. I’m only the maid.”

  I’d never seen such an attractive and well-constructed maid, except in movies. “Maids don’t usually come equipped with Glocks. Come around to this side.”

  She padded around on bare feet. I couldn’t help but notice her toenails were painted red. “They’re all gone.”

  “Who?”

  “The Devil Woman and her men. They left me behind.”

  Movement in my peripheral vision told me someone was easing the nearest door into the kitchen open a centimeter at a time. The smart thing would have been to empty the AR’s mag through the door, but I couldn’t take the chance. There could be innocents or children on the other side.

  The maid moved around the opposite end of the island, then edged toward the center of the room. That’s what I would have done if I’d wanted to keep someone’s attention away from the door. She spoke English, but her accent had that soft, musky tone that makes Spanish sound wonderful in the right, intimate circumstances. I knew, because I’d dated a few Spanish girls before I met Kelly.

  “There’s no one else in here. Please lower your weapon.”

  I let her go on with the charade until the door opened wider and the muzzle of a gun peeked through. That’s when my AR came level. I sent three rounds just above the other weapon’s barrel, still maintaining control of the rifle.

  The weapon dropped in the doorway and the sound of a falling body told me I’d done some damage. I spun back to the maid, but she stood rooted to the spot with her hands still in the air. Glad I wasn’t having to struggle for the right words in Spanish, I reached for the wall switch and flicked off the lights. Half of the room went dark.

  “Where are the other switches?”

  One slender hand waved toward a narrow strip of wall at the closest end of the folding glass panels.

  I pointed with my head. “Back toward them and turn the lights off.”

  She did, and just before the lights went out, I saw her nails were also painted red. Dropping the NVGs into place, I gave the courtyard the once-over. It was still empty.

  Back to the room and situation at hand. “You’re the only one, huh?”

  “I didn’t know he was in there. I promise. Can you see through those in the dark?”

  “Yep. Name?”

  “Lucinda Diaz.”

  “Well, Lucy. I’m not sure I believe you.”

  “It’s the truth, mister.”

  “The truth is that you’re a little too put together and intentionally casual to wash dishes and scrub floors at this time of a morning, but you can convince me somewhere else. Right now, we’re headed out of here.”

  “Who are you? You said something about a warrant.”

  “I’m the law. That’s all you need to know.”

  “You’re not wearing a badge, and that shirt . . .”

  “The shirt’s not important, and the badge is in my pocket for now.”

  “You’re American.”

  “Right.”

  “I don’t want to be a hostage.”

  “No one wants to be a hostage, but you’re going as a temporary prisoner, if there is such a thing.”

  “Where?”

  “Away from here. Where are the keys for that SUV sitting out there?”

  A beat.

  Her voice had been slightly nervous, but now it was steady as a rock. “It belongs to the owner of the house.”

  “Keeping up with the charade, huh? Good for you. Where’s the keys?”

  She jerked her head toward the office. The TV was still on, but the blue light didn’t give me any problems with the night-vision goggles, as long as I didn’t look directly at it. “They’re in a wooden box on the desk.”

  That’s when I was pretty sure I had my girl. Most Mexicans who learn to use English south of the border don’t usually use contractions.

  Keeping the weapon trained on her, I edged over to the desk and flipped the lid on a carved wooden box. Sure ’nough, a key fob was in there, along with two thick packets of hundred-dollar bills in American currency. I dropped the fob in my pocket and left the money.

  “Hands on top of your head and turn around.”

  “Why?”

  I shrugged. “Well, because I said so and I have the gun. I need to pat you down.” There wouldn’t be much patting. She’d almost painted the jeans on, but that untucked shirt was a little too blousy for me. Even if she didn’t have a gun under there, she could still have a knife. “Do it.”

  Interlocking her fingers like I said, she turned around and waited. Letting the AR drop across my chest, I quickly patted her down, fully expecting her to try and fight or squirm around to get away. She did neither, simply standing there and looking out into the night. The pat down was almost as thorough as if it was a guy, but there were certain places I wouldn’t explore. She wasn’t wearing a bra, so that simplified things in that general area.

  “Lay down on the floor.” I yanked a lamp cord free from the wall and cut it with my pocketknife. “On your belly.” She settled to the polished tiles and rolled onto her stomach like a cat stretching. I tied both hands behind her back, not tight enough to cut off the circulation. “Sorry about this, but I’m not convinced you’re who you say you are.”

  “This is how you gringos treat women?”

  “It’s how this gringo is gonna stay alive.”

  I scooped her feet together and threw a loop around them drawing them tight with a half hitch, like tying a calf, then connected them to her hands so she couldn’t wiggle out, or away. The level of detail through the NVGs surprised me and the knots pulled snug.

  Time was running out, making me nervous, wondering when the rest of the soldatos were coming back.

  With her cheek on the tiles, she tested the limits of her movement. “How do you expect me to walk like this?”

  “I don’t. I expect you to stay still and quiet while I check the house.” Even though I was 99 percent sure I had the right
person, I wanted to be sure there were no other women hiding in any of the other rooms. I had no intention of trying to clear the rest of the buildings. If anyone was there, they were laying low and out of the fight.

  A satellite phone was charging on its base at one end of the island. It was the one she’d been using when I first saw her. I plucked it off.

  Dammit. That knock on the head must have scrambled my brains more than I’d thought. She was on the phone when I shot those two guys outside. Whoever she’d been talking to probably knew someone was on their property. If they were close, they’d be in my back pocket within the next minute or two.

  I still had to be sure I was taking the right gal with me. The second door in the kitchen was closed. Weapon ready, I pushed it open to find an empty pantry.

  Dark blood leaked out from under the other door I’d shot through. I pushed it open to find the fanciest master bedroom I’d ever seen and the bad guy lying there deader’n nickel coffee. He looked to be about eighteen. The sight of someone so young made my breath catch, because even though he was far from the first, he was near the same age as my own kids.

  In the past several months I’d taken more lives than I cared to admit, and the weight of that crushing responsibility once again got to me. My chest hitched, and tiny whimpering sounds came with each contraction, but I clamped my teeth together and fought through it, looking for something to take my mind off that cooling body.

  I turned to clear the ostentatious bedroom. That’s the word I was looking for. The whole room was designed by someone who probably didn’t have anything when they were young and made up for it as soon as they had enough money. Even I could tell the artwork on the walls was expensive and probably should have been in a museum rather than a cartel leader’s ranch house in Coahuila, Mexico.

  Overdone and way too flashy for my taste, I wondered if the Devil Woman hired someone to design it, or if deep down inside the dangerous person I’d heard about was nothing more than an insecure woman.

  I hoped Kelly wouldn’t ever want a room like the one I was in. It’d take a year’s worth of work to earn enough to pay for it. The bathroom was just as ostentatious, with a Jacuzzi tub big enough to swim in and gold fixtures that almost glowed in the greenish light. Sitting side by side, and more out in the room that I would have wanted, was the toilet and a bidet.

  The whole layout was spectacular through the goggles, and I kinda wanted to flick on the lights for a minute to take it all in, but the clock was ticking.

  Following the muzzle of my rifle, I returned to the kitchen, relieved to find the “maid” still lying on the floor, staring into the courtyard. Probably waiting on that help she’d called. “All right, Miss Ma’am.” I used my pocket knife to cut the wire around her ankles. “We’re going on a road trip.”

  “To where?”

  “The states.” I grabbed her elbow and yanked her up.

  “You’re a fool. You can’t come in here and think you’re simply going to drive back to your country. Every officer and soldier within a hundred miles will be after you.”

  Miles instead of kilometers. Another domino fell.

  “Why would soldiers care about me and a maid?” I pressed one section of the key fob and the engine started. “How will they know?”

  A look crossed her face. “My employer is very rich. They’ll know soon enough.”

  “Outside and into that Expedition. You’re pretty confident to be a simple housekeeper.”

  “I grew up here. It’s a harsh country.”

  “No, you didn’t. You’re from the states.”

  There was that look again, and this time she knew she’d given it away.

  Still holding her elbow and holding the AR in my right, I shoved her toward the open wall. “We have no choice. I’ve always bulled my way through china shops, so we’re heading north.”

  No one shot at me when she stepped out into the open, so I followed close enough to smell the coconut shampoo she’d used on her hair. Staying right up against her might make a sniper think twice about shooting and harming their boss.

  My stomach against her back, I yanked the passenger door open. She threw her head backward, hoping to head-butt me in the nose. I grabbed a handful of soft hair and banged her forehead against the top of the open door. It wasn’t hard enough to knock her out, just enough to keep her from trying again, but my skin crawled with the thought of crosshairs finding me.

  She dropped into the seat, blood welling from the strawberry on her forehead. “You bastard!”

  “Language.” I gave the courtyard one last look and slammed the door behind her. If there was a sniper, now was the time he’d pull the trigger.

  Circling the Expedition’s hood as fast as my feet would move, I yanked the door open and dropped in behind the wheel. She was trying to lock the automatic door with her chin to keep me out. I grabbed her hair again and yanked her back against the seatback. “Sit still!”

  I reached across and pulled her seatbelt across and locked it into place.

  “You’ll die before we get to the river!” Her once-attractive face was contorted in fury. In the eerie light through the NVG lenses, the growing knot on her forehead made her look like a demon.

  “That’s possible. I could have a heart attack, too, but it don’t matter. We’re going.”

  “Why don’t you just throw me in the back like a cuerpo?”

  “Thanks for the suggestion. It sounds like you’ve had practice at that, but no. I want you where I can keep an eye on your little lyin’ ass.”

  Angling the AR across my chest with the muzzle partially out the open window, I shifted into gear and pulled out of the open gate and onto the dirt road. A sudden splash of light in the rearview mirror told me there was still someone back there, but they either hadn’t wanted to engage, or hid long enough to tell someone we were leaving.

  My passenger saw it too, and her face relaxed into a smile bracketed with deep dimples.

  Chapter 37

  In their buttoned-up control room, the technicians Carlos and Hector sat in terrified silence. The percussive gunfire in the courtyard wasn’t random, as it sounded when the soldados went beyond the walls for target practice with a variety of automatic weapons. The military occasionally came by in their Humvees and pickup trucks carrying 50-caliber machine guns in the back, and practiced with the soldados. Those times, the sound was a steady roar that continued until they ran out of ammunition, or tired of standing in the hot sun.

  On occasion, and if they were in a good mood, the Devil Woman’s soldiers executed rival cartel members, or traitors to their cause, just outside the walls with single shots to their heads, or a quick burst from one or two weapons.

  What was going on in the darkness outside their walls was surgical in nature. One or two shots, then a quick, controlled burst. The first exchange was only feet from their door. The next was farther away, and somewhat muffled.

  Carlos’s eyes widened in the dim light from their computer screens. They’d turned out the fluorescent overheads, just in case someone saw light around the door that never completely sealed when it was closed. He swallowed and exchanged glances with Hector. “They are in the house.”

  “How many? Can you tell?”

  “We would know if you could get that damned security system back up and working so we can use the cameras.”

  Holding a machine gun in his lap, Hector spun in his chair and tapped at the keys. “The update will be complete in five minutes.”

  “We may not have that long.”

  A single controlled burst reached their ears, sounding somewhat muffled.

  Again, they waited. It seemed like a lifetime to the young men before two car doors slammed, and an engine started, the sound loud in the still night air. Silence reigned long enough for Carlos to finally muster the courage to crack the door and peek outside.

  An armed man threw a backpack into the Expedition’s open rear window and slid behind the wheel. Gravel crunched when the vehicle
rolled out of the courtyard without headlights.

  Shaking with fear, Hector stood behind Carlos. “Do you see anything?”

  “Yes. La Jefa’s Expedition is driving away.” Carlos saw the barrel of Hector’s submachine gun in his peripheral vision. He used one finger to push it to the side.

  They took another long moment before Carlos opened the door all the way and stepped outside. Soft breezes swayed the palm leaves and grasses in the night air. A body lay close to the main ranch house’s open glass wall. “He has killed Eusebio, and I can promise there was another soldier in the main house. He is dead, too, or the Expedition would not be leaving so slowly.”

  Carlos studied the now peaceful ranchero. “It could have been that man who pulled everyone away, too. We would have known if you had not been watching la gente folla.”

  “What else was I going to do while the security system was rebooting? Stop bothering me with that. You have your stupid drones that are useless when the baterias run down. What are we going to do?”

  “We need to check on La Jefa.”

  “I will stay here and cover you.” Hector held the weapon as if it were a snake. His voice betrayed the seriousness of the words. He glanced over his shoulder at the computer screen that reported the update was 98 percent complete.

  “Point that ametralladora somewhere else. I do not want to be shot in the back by you.” Carlos stepped into the night. All the lights were off in the main house, and that had never happened before. Shaking in fear, he crossed the courtyard, wheeling dramatically every few feet to check behind them. “Jefa?”

  No sound came from the big house.

  “Señorita? Are you there? You can come out now. I will protect you.” Carlos squared his shoulders, hoping it would make him look tough and capable in her eyes.

  Still no sound. He stepped into the main room through the open glass doors and snapped on the light that nullified the glow coming from the television on the wall. The office was obviously empty, as was the living room. He rounded the island and stopped in shock at a stream of dark blood on the tiles. It was coming from La Jefa’s bedroom.