Dead was dead.
“Don’t do this, boss.” Guerrero made his case, not wanting to be one-upped by Rosas. “Leave him to us. We will take care of this dog.”
“Us? You brought this man to my door, Ramon. Don’t think I will forget that.” The cartel boss scowled at him. “But I will handle him myself. Uncuff him.”
Guerrero was shocked by the man’s order. And so were the other men. No one moved. Each of them looked at the other until Perez broke the stalemate.
“What’s wrong with you? Are you deaf?” he yelled. “I said free this man. And someone give me a knife.”
His boss shrugged out of his suit jacket, unbuttoned his collar, and rolled up his sleeves. Miguel Rosas was the only man who moved. He handed his boss a knife and stepped back, glaring at the American, who would remain unarmed. Even in the shadows, Guerrero saw the faint smile on the face of Miguel Rosas. The man didn’t care what happened or who died.
Like the sick psychopath he was, Rosas only wanted blood.
Garrett’s team was positioned outside the front gates of the Perez estate. When his men got into place, he found a spot behind a boulder and lay flat on his belly atop a slight rise near the main entrance. He communicated to the rest of his team, and each one checked in. When their voices came over his com unit, it sounded like he was beside them. Hank and Alexa were last to move into position.
“We have two lone wolves, taking high ground. They’re mine.” Hank’s cryptic message meant he had spotted a two-man sniper team in a tower overlooking the main residence. They had clear sight of the perimeter and the grounds.
“Two watchdogs every fifteen, front and back. Clockwork.” Alexa had been monitoring the guards walking the grounds. Two-man teams walked their territory front and back of the property every fifteen minutes, without deviation.
“On my mark. In three.” Garrett took one final look through his night-vision binoculars before he gave his order to launch their assault on the drug cartel’s stronghold. RPG rounds would take out the front gate and cause a diversion for Hank and Alexa to launch their simultaneous assault from the rear.
But something made Garrett stop. He lowered his night-vision gear and listened with eyes closed so he could focus. A distant sound droned in the background. Something familiar made him hesitate. And when he recognized the noise, he had no choice but to call off their assault.
“Stand down. I repeat, stand down.”
“What’s happening?” Alexa was the first to speak over the com, but Garrett didn’t have time to answer. Within minutes, they all heard it, and Garrett was the first to break silence.
“Fall back. I repeat, fall back,” he ordered. “And take cover. Now!”
If what he suspected was right, they’d have to find cover fast. From the sound of the turboprop engine and the brief glimpse he got of its sleek distinctive design, an MQ-9 Reaper UAV had targeted the drug cartel stronghold. The unmanned aerial drone had hunter-killer capabilities. With its sophisticated surveillance, it could hunt a specific target. And with its payload, it could definitely kill. It was loaded with up to fourteen Hellfire missiles and GPS-laser-guided bombs. In seconds, the UAV drone would be over the estate and dropping its payload.
“Damn, Kinkaid. That’s what you call a signal?” Garrett fell back with the rest of his team, praying that Alexa and Hank had gotten away clean. “You sure know how to send up one helluva flare.”
Kinkaid had always been a gutsy operative. Garrett should have trusted him when he said to wait for his signal. If anyone died because he gave the order to attack too soon, that would be on his head, not Kinkaid’s.
Estella struggled to see over the men who stood in front of her, despite the pain it took for her to move at all. Flickering torches were the only light in the stone cell. And men’s voice echoed loudly as they yelled their encouragement to Perez. They wanted him to kill the American. She screamed, “No!” and thought no one heard her, but she’d been wrong. In the noise and confusion, it took her a moment to realize that Ramon had come to her. He leaned close enough to speak in her ear.
“If you know what is good for you, you will keep your mouth shut and stay put.”
He raised a knife, and she flinched. It had been the knife he used to cut her, but this time he used it to cut her down. She collapsed in his arms, too weak to stand on her own. Her arms were numb, and every muscle in her body ached. She didn’t want to touch him or feel his hands on her again, but she had no choice.
“Can you stand?” he asked. Ramon smelled of sweat and dirt and blood.
She only shook her head. She didn’t think he would hear her. Ramon held her for only a moment before he shoved her aside to lean against a wall in the shadows. He raised a finger of warning for her to stay put before he joined the rest of the men.
Where would she go? She had no one to help her and no place safe to run.
Estella dropped to the floor and crawled away from the men, so she could see. She watched Ramon’s boss come at the American, Jackson Kinkaid. The man was weak. He could barely stand or even lift his arms, but when Perez came at him with his knife, the American lunged for the big man. She knew the agony he felt to fight. And her pain was only a fraction of what he had endured.
Both men fell to the floor of the cell, kicking up dirt as they wrestled for the knife. The circle of men moved tighter around Perez and the American until they blocked her view. Estella couldn’t see any more.
She was trapped, and there was nothing for her to do but watch the American die. Tears streamed down her face. She could not blame the brave man for wanting revenge. Perez had killed his wife and child.
It took Estella a moment to realize that she was already doing the only thing she could. She prayed for both of them.
Kinkaid grappled for the knife Perez had in his sweaty hand. All Perez had to do was give in. If he ordered his men to kill him, his fight would be over, but the big man never opened his mouth. He was too stubborn, something Kinkaid had counted on.
But he was no match for the fat man, not in his condition.
Every time Perez rolled on top of him, he cut off his air. Kinkaid shoved the man aside and used his weight against him. And he kept both hands on the knife. The blade cut into his skin. And with the adrenaline racing through his system, he used his rage to keep fighting. His lungs burned, and every muscle in his body was betraying him. He had nothing left.
“To d-die . . . f-fighting. It is g-good.” The drug kingpin felt Kinkaid’s hands give way. And when he saw the blood draining down his arm, he knew Kinkaid was losing his fight. One last time, he rolled over him. And the sharp tip of the blade hung over his eye, with Perez putting his full weight behind the knife.
“G-glad you . . . think so.” Kinkaid felt the sting of the blade cut into his cheek. In seconds, his warm blood rolled down his skin and filled his ear.
He was staring up at the last thing he would ever see—the red-faced, sweaty, drug-dealing bastard who had murdered his wife and child. Perez looked like a madman. His eyes were bulging from his skull, and his jowls were trembling with his exertion. Kinkaid shoved at the man, using his legs to topple him, but that wasn’t working. He had no more strength left.
“It w-would be . . . easy.” Perez whispered as he struggled to make one last thrust. “Just let . . . g-go. You will . . . die quick.”
The drug-cartel leader’s face blurred above him. The tip of his blade hovered over his one good eye. If he let go, Perez would drive the knife into his brain. The drug trafficker was right. He’d be dead in seconds.
“No, don’t. Please!”
Kinkaid heard a faint voice, mixed with the shouts of Perez’s men. The angry shouts echoed in the cell and nearly drowned out the girl’s voice, but eventually Kinkaid heard Estella.
