Laughlin stepped closer and tried to get Bridger’s attention. “I checked before I left D.C. Everything’s quiet. There’s been no chatter, no mention of you or your team.” He motioned the large man to the side.
Bridger sighed and gave him a sideways look. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Hey, I need to know what the hell is going on around here.”
Bridger glared at him. “You know as much as we do right now.”
“Somehow I doubt that.”
Near Chapala Mexico
El Fantasma pinched at the bridge of his nose. “Are you certain?”
Raul nodded slightly. “The support team from Houston arrived and…I am sorry, Jefe. The other team didn’t show and cannot be contacted.” Raul squirmed slightly then raised his eyes. “They said that they waited far past the meeting time then found a local hotel.” He swallowed hard. “They continue to try to contact Luis’ team but...” his voice trailed off.
El Fantasma nodded slightly. “So they are dead. I told them to wait.” His voice was soft and low and it scared Raul more than if he had yelled. “Why do they not listen to me? I try to warn them that these are not people like they are used to dealing with.”
Raul shook his head. “Perhaps something happened and they had to act?”
El Fantasma slowly stood and stepped out from behind his large, ornate, hand carved desk. “You see, Raul? This is what happens when people do not do as they are told.” He sat gently on the edge of the desk and gave him a tight lipped smile. “Now we do not know where Bravo team is or what they know. We do not know what they might do next, and my people who work for the NSA won’t be able to help because now they know that we are looking for them.” He sighed and shook his head. “I have waited nearly twenty years to get my revenge and these…idiots blow the entire operation for…” He paused and shook his head. “Who knows why?”
Raul wanted to tell him that it would work out. He wanted to reassure el jefe that good things come to he who waits, but he knew better than to speak out of turn. He chose to squeeze his lips together and remain mute.
El Fantasma stood from his desk and pulled the white linen coat from his shoulders. “Very well. We start over.” He sat behind his desk then looked directly at Raul. “Contact the Houston enforcers and tell them to track these dogs. Find out where they are going and do whatever they must to kill them. I want proof of death.”
“As you wish, Jefe.”
El Fantasma sat back in his leather chair and stared at the photograph on the corner of his desk. “I am sorry, my love. They have slipped our grasp, but they are not free yet.” He leaned forward and brushed his finger along the side of the woman’s face. “We will have our revenge.”
Southeastern Oklahoma
“If you want my help then you’ll talk to me.” Laughlin glared at Bridger as the man packed the remaining gear into the load out cases.
“What makes you think I want your help?”
“You’re taking the fight to them, aren’t you?”
“That’s none of your damned business.” Bridger hefted the heavy box and let it slam on the table a little too hard.
Laughlin gave him a squirrelly stare. “I got a plane.”
“So do I,” Bridger stated.
“Here?”
Bridger shook his head. “Close enough.” He stacked the next box then nodded to Gregg. “Contact the team. Let them know we’ll be taking the Leer.”
Laughlin spun and pointed at Gregg. “Belay that order.” He spun back to Bridger. “I have a Cessna Citation sitting at the airport right here in town. We can be in the air in less than an hour. But you gotta come clean with me.” He planted his hands on his hips and narrowed his gaze. “And I mean the whole truth.”
“What’s to tell, Laughlin?” Bridger shook his head, his artificial smile slowly turning to a sneer. “These assholes waited twenty years and now they’re coming after us. We’re going to take it to them before they accomplish what they set out to do.”
“The Murillo cartel is dead, my friend.” Laughlin crossed his arms and gave him a knowing stare. “Who are you going to go after?”
“We have the location of the phone numbers that they were checking in with. We’ll go there.”
“And if that’s not the base of operation that they’re using this day?” Laughlin raised a brow at him. “Look, I may not be waist deep in the daily happenings in Colombia anymore, but I still know people.”
Bridger snorted. “Apparently you’ve been out of the game too long.” He tossed one of the larger cases to DJ to load in the truck. “The Colombians moved their bases of operation to Mexico.”
Laughlin shrugged. “Six of one, half dozen of the other…I KNOW people.”
“Good for you.” Bridger grabbed the last box and pushed past him.
“Damn it, Bridger!” Laughlin fell into step behind him. “You left me hanging back in the day. You owe me!”
Bridger froze midstep. He slowly handed the box to Gregg as everybody eased away from the big man. Mauk felt the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth before Bridger spun and cracked a solid hook to Laughlin’s jaw.
Matt had expected a reaction like this and rolled with the punch. He stumbled as he tried to avoid the swing but he stayed on his feet. He came up and spat blood to the ground. “You hit like a bitch.”
Bridger refused to be baited and stood his ground. “When hitting a bitch…punch like one.”
Laughlin ignored the snickers behind his back and shrugged off his overcoat. “Fine. You want to do this the hard way? I can get my ass kicked as good as anybody.” He folded the coat and hung it on the porch rail. He turned slowly to Bridger and squared off, his hands held up in surrender. “I’m trying to make things
