Cold Day In Hell (25 page)

"Damn you to hell," she blurted out the words. "You're insane."

The explosion in her head caught her off guard. A blow to her jaw ripped through her. The bitter, iron taste of blood flooded her mouth, coating her tongue. For a moment, her vision faded, and she feared she'd pass out. Fighting to stay conscious, she tested to see if he'd broken her jaw.

"How could you work for a monster like Manuel Ortega?"

"Watch your mouth. Manny and I, we go all the way back to college. Did you know he was educated in the US?"

"So I heard. I just can't imagine you two as friends." She'd chosen her words carefully.

Angering Jack had been too easy. How had he kept his temper a secret?

"We were roommates, not friends. I worked my ass off getting my degree, while Manny played with the girls. He had something I didn't. Money. When he offered to pay me to do his assignments, I learned that if he wants something, he's willing to pay well to get it."

If she could have kept him talking, she'd have dug around inside his head and tried to persuade him to help her. "But you turned on your country."

He laughed. "I'm not. It's not like I'm giving away political secrets. This is a onetime deal. After I pay off my bookie, I'm done with Manny."

"He'll never let you be 'done.'"

"Sure he will. Convincing my boss back home how hard I tried to save you will be my biggest challenge." He poked his finger into her swollen cheek. "Dalton will have to grant me a personal leave to get over the distress."

"Jack," she begged. "Take me to Ortega, but don't let Ty and Marcus walk into a trap. Turn around and go back. Please." A trickle of blood escaped her mouth and ran down her chin.

"Aww," he said in a falsetto voice. "You fell in love, didn't you? Manny's gonna get a kick out of that."

"I didn't fall for anybody. The killing has to stop somewhere."

"Tell you what, you can ask Manny to spare your lover. Cry and beg. He's got his mind made up. I don't see you changing it."

Jack had masked his true self perfectly. The free-spirited, easygoing federal agent didn't exist. Underneath he was an arrogant, backstabbing traitor without a conscience. He couldn't care less what was going to happen to her.

****

Ty's skin still burned from the heat of Ana's gaze, but he'd done as she'd asked. He hadn't said goodbye nor had he looked back. There had been nothing left to say. He'd stared out into the darkness last night, running it all through his mind.

He couldn't stay in her country. His life was in America.

And Ana? She'd never give up her fight. She thought she'd find peace with Ortega's death. Ty knew better. Another drug czar would take his place. Other families would be hurt, and Ana would rally. She'd work with her uncle to better her own country. She couldn't leave.

Checkmate.

He shouldered his backpack, walked into one of the few affluent neighborhoods, and stole a car.

He left it parked about a mile south of Ortega's house, so it could be found and returned to its owner. He turned to Marcus. "You ready?"

"As I'll ever be. First sighting?"

"Absolutely. Doesn't matter which one of us locates him. You get a visual? Take him down."

Quiet, stone-faced Marcus, whom Ty trusted with his life, nodded and exited the vehicle. Thankful for the moonlight, they slipped into the shadows. There would be no more talking until the raid was over. Side by side, they jogged the distance around to the back of the house and climbed up the wall to the tree. Guards had to be located, timed, and neutralized.

Something still ate at Ty about their last trip to this house. Rescuing Lina and Pablo had been orchestrated but why? And why had he and Marcus walked away so easily?

Fifteen minutes into their wait, movement caught his eye, as did Marcus's signal that meant, "I got this."

A man stepped into view dressed in pseudo-military camo pants and shirt. Ty put the guard in his crosshairs to back up Marcus and hoped not to have to pull the trigger. The sound of gunfire would travel a long distance, and someone might hear.

Marcus stood and stepped off the tree limb, landing on the head and shoulders of the poor slob below. The only noise was the
woof
of air the guard expelled on impact.

Marcus quickly returned to his perch, and Ty smiled at his perfect timing. Never having worked this kind of situation with his friend, Ty had no idea just how stealthy Marcus could be. The entire takedown had looked like a scene from a rodeo. A professional calf roper couldn't have dismounted, thrown, and hog-tied his catch any faster.

Ty couldn't shake the feeling that this was too easy. Sitting in a tree worrying wasn't going to get the job done. He shook off the gnawing in his gut, dropped to the ground, and led the way to the back door.

The sliding-glass door opened, and they entered a large area obviously built as a man cave. A flat-screen television took up half a wall and was surrounded by shelves stacked high with DVDs. A full-size pool table parked smack in the middle of the room was the only obstacle between them and the rest of the house.

He and Marcus watched for the dog, knowing it might be their first encounter. They hoped he was caged or slept in the boy's room. Until it was proved that he'd attacked Lina and Pablo, neither Ty nor Marcus wanted to pass judgment on the dumb animal.

They crossed through the house, stopping at the base of the wide staircase. Ty indicated Marcus should take the right side of the hall.

Lights flooded the landing at the top of the staircase, backlighting a young man sitting on the top stair.

Son of a bitch, they'd walked into a trap. Nothing that happened now was going to be good. Killing a kid wasn't part of the plan.

Without speaking a word, they whirled to head for the exit.

"Oh no,
señores
. Stay and join the party," the kid called out. "We've been expecting you."

More bright lights filled the area.

Marcus raised an eyebrow. "I'm not much of a party animal."

Ty agreed. Knowing how many men they'd have to take out would determine their next move. "Let me do a quick count and see how big this party is, then we'll decide what to do. You keep an eye on the boy."

"I'd hate to kill this kid, but if he aims a weapon." Marcus's voice was cold as an iceberg and sounded twice as dangerous.

An accurate head count wasn't necessary. Ty had eyes on the six in front of him. Add them to the guard on each side at the top of the stairs and the math was easy. All of them had him and Marcus in their crosshairs. Dressed in the same makeshift military gear, somebody's odor wafted across the room. The smell was a combination of sweat and maybe fear.

Were they scared of their leader? A woman about five-foot-two?

Standing in front of the guards was the same old woman he'd seen take the dog out. Her drab gray housedress reached her ankles and covered all but the toes of the thick-soled shoes she wore. Even pulling her hair back into a high bun hadn't stretched out the deep wrinkles on her weathered face.

Something was missing from her expression. Her eyes reflected no fear when her gaze locked on his. The emotion he detected was pure unadulterated loathing. Why would she hate them? She stuffed her hands into the wide front pocket of her apron and appeared to be quite calm.

"Are you finished talking?" She walked toward Ty, speaking directly to him in English. "You have two choices. Put down your weapons or die."

Marcus stepped forward and scowled down at the woman. "
Anciana
, you should be more discriminating in the company you keep."

Her smile turned Ty's blood to thick sludge.

"
Bobo
, you have no value to
mi jefe
."

Her hand exited her pocket. She slashed out too fast for Marcus to react. He flexed backward but not far enough. The diagonal strip of red across his shirt left no doubt that she'd made contact.

The boy's laughter brought a chorus of cheers from the guards. Ty wondered if the kid thought her calling Marcus stupid was funny or enjoyed watching her slice him open.

"Guess I shouldn't have called her an old woman." Marcus ran his hand over his chest, frowned at the blood, and then wiped it on his pants leg.

Ty turned his back on the men and the woman and faced Ortega's son. "What do you want?" He definitely wanted something or Ty and Marcus would have been dead by now.

"Drop your weapons. I tire of this game."

Ty caught Marcus's gaze and hoped the message he telegraphed was understood. Now wasn't the time to try to Butch Cassidy their way out. There was more to this "game," and they needed to be alive to play.

Marcus's head moved forward once. He dropped his rifle and pistol next to Ty's at the old woman's feet. Her eyes glistened. She motioned, and the gunmen rushed forward. 

 "You will entertain
jefe
later."

Then the lights went out.

Chapter Twenty-One

Should it hurt this much just to wake up? The volcano erupting inside Ty's head hurt worse with movement. Oppressive heat pressed down on his lungs and restricted his ability to draw a breath.

Ty's subconscious understood his thoughts were rambling, but his brain demanded he claw his way to the edge of awareness. Pieces of reality fell into place, sending his eyelids open. Ortega's men had tried to bash his skull in.

Marcus. Where the fuck was Marcus? If Ortega or that bitch of a housekeeper had killed him, they'd all die. Ty opened his eyes and pressed himself up on his elbow. 

Where was he? A faint light shone through a small hole in whatever sweatbox he was in. The stench reminded him of dead animal carcasses and the muddy watering hole he and Ana had run across in the jungle.

Jesus, how long had he been out? His eyes slowly adjusted to the semidarkness. He slowly rolled over the other direction. Relief washed over him. Marcus's head was bent, and he appeared focused on the woman sitting beside him.

She lifted her hair and spun it into a knot.

No, his brain shouted. He willed the hallucination away. Plain and simple, Ana could not be in this hellhole. By now, Jack Fury had delivered her into her uncle's protective arms.

Yet the hair piled on top of her head, the shape of her shoulders, even the way she moved made him wonder.

He concentrated on unscrambling his brain by squeezing his eyes open and closed a couple of times. His heart rate escalated with each blink. His vision cleared. Sure enough, she was hunkered over, dabbing at Marcus's wound with a rag.

"I'm sorry. That's the best I can do. We need water to wash off the dirt."

Her voice reverberated with a tremble. He had to get her to safety and away from Ortega.

"I'll ask the bellhop to bring some."

"Very funny. Hold still," she commanded Marcus. Always the brave warrior, she tried hard to cover the fear in her voice, but Ty heard it loud and clear.

"Leave me alone and go check on Ty," Marcus growled.

The strong tone in his voice sent waves of relief through Ty and granted a stay of execution to that old woman who'd cut him. She might have been female, but she was no innocent.

Marcus hadn't bled to death. Now they had to keep that wound from getting infected. The best way to do that was to escape and get him to a doctor.

"No, I'm fine." Ty forced the words out, trying to sound as if his head wasn't rumbling like Krakatoa.

Ana whirled. She squeaked out his name and crawled on her hands and knees to him.

The darkness didn't prevent him from seeing the bruises on her face. The seismic pain vanished, replaced by an indescribable rush of anger.

He pushed himself up and banged his head. "Son of a bitch." The volcano erupted again.

"You can't stand up in here."

"Where's here?" Best he could tell they were in an oven. He reached up and wiped a drop of sweat off her chin. His gut twisted that somebody had laid a hand on her.

"It's some kind of dugout. The side and back walls are dirt. The front is wood, and that small door is the only way in or out."

He cupped her cheeks, hoping his concern eased her pain. "Are you okay?"

"Better than you two." She gave him a weak grin.

"Did Ortega do this?"

"No. I haven't seen him yet." Her fingers trailed down the back of his hand. "This was courtesy of Jack Fury."

"Damn him." The volcanic eruptions shifted from the back of Ty's head to his temples. "He'll regret putting his hand on you."

"He's on Ortega's payroll. He set up you and Marcus and brought me here. We're waiting on Ortega to arrive."

"I knew it the minute Marcus and I walked into the trap. Couldn't make myself believe it, because that meant you were in danger." Ty touched the knot on the back of his head and found dried blood, which in this case was a good thing. "Jesus, Jack must have kept Ortega informed of our every step. Why did he help you save my life in Santiago's village?"

"According to him, he'd had orders from Ortega to stick with our every move. Jack getting winged just helped him come across as trustworthy."

"All this time I've insisted the FBI had a mole in the States, and he's been sitting right next to me. Bastard should've known I'd kill him for this."

"Nobody guessed. He put up a good facade." Ana leaned close to Ty's face and squinted. "How's your head? You were out longer than Marcus."

"I've had hangovers that hurt worse," he lied.

"Move closer to the opening. I can't see how badly you're injured."

"Not necessary." He waved her off. "My stomach's not queasy, and my vision is clearing."

"Fucking Jack," Ty muttered, unable to shake his anger. "Nate passed the information I gave him straight to the FBI. They turned around and shared my plan with Jack when they assigned him to pick us up at the river." Events of the past few days fell into place. "The killing of Santiago and his people was set up to happen exactly when it did. Ortega was manipulating us. He used Jack and orchestrated the entire massacre."