Hard Target: Elite Ops - Book One (4 page)

BOOK: Hard Target: Elite Ops - Book One
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The stranger motioned for the Mercado bodyguard to join the party, so that he would only need one gun to keep both Max and his employee under control. He then took what she guessed was Emilio’s weapon and slid it behind his back into his waistband.

“Kid, call 911.” The stranger ordered. “Now.”

Zach scurried to the bedside table and picked up the phone, eyeing a paper sack at the door that Anna hadn’t seen earlier. Its contents had been strewn across the carpet in Max’s melee. Game cartridges, DVDs, an unopened iPad, and in the middle of the loot was Zach’s handheld game console.

Max, you bastard
, Anna thought.
If you’d really hurt me, Zach would have never gotten over letting you inside this hotel room.

“It won’t make any difference when you call the police. You know who I am?” sneered Max.

“Yeah. A low life scum who hits women. Nothing special.”

“I’m Maximilian Mercado.”

“No shit? The Tequila King?” The stranger studied him, assessing something. “You look taller on TV.” Then he shrugged, clearly unimpressed. “I’m a scotch man myself.”

She would have laughed if the situation weren’t so dire. Max hated being dismissed as much as he hated being “disrespected.” He was very proud of his company and his work.

But the stranger wasn’t finished yet. “So I suppose that makes you an uptown scumbag who hits women and stars in his own silly commercials. You should know better. I would think a rich man like you had finer home training.”

Max ignored the jab but she knew it burned. The Mercados traced their heritage back to aristocracy. Insulting Max’s social etiquette in addition to the family business was sure to make him vengeful.

“Nothing’s going to happen to me. I have friends in this town. Who the hell are you?” Max studied the cheap suit and tie that the stranger was wearing. “You’re a rent-a-cop, aren’t you? You know I can have you fired from this job. Evicted from your home.” His voice was tinged with disgust.

The stranger remained silent and Max snorted derisively. “Or possibly arrested yourself for discharging your weapon.”

The stranger continued to stare from deep green eyes. Finally he spoke in a drawl that made tortoises seem speedy.

“I don’t think so, Mr. Mercado.”

“It’s my word against yours,” argued Max.

A shuttered expression came over her rescuer’s face as he nodded. “That’s right.”

And Max has no idea who this man is. I have no idea who he is.
Dark eyebrows, high cheekbones, and a nose that had obviously been broken in the past gave him a dangerous look. The revolver he was pointing at Emilio and Max added to the impression.

The stranger glanced at Anna again with unreadable green eyes locked on the blood oozing from her mouth to her blouse. Something changed in his face, and he reached into his back pocket. Flipping open his wallet, he revealed a shiny badge with a big eagle at the top along with words inscribed in blue and gold that she couldn’t quite make out from where she was standing.

“I’m DEA, Mr. Mercado. Now chill. You’re about to be arrested for assault and threatening a federal officer.”

T
O HELL WITH
keeping a low profile and the letter of resignation he’d just signed. Leland wouldn’t think about how his boss would hang him out to dry if this came back to bite him. Max Mercado was a psychopath and, famous or not, the man had just tried to bash Nice Mom’s head in with a nine iron. He’d brought Gorilla Guy from the hallway to back him up in case there was any resistance.

“You’re a federal agent?” Max’s voice was barely audible.

“Right again,” said Leland, walking Gorilla Guy toward the entryway while keeping his Ruger trained on Mercado. And you’re screwed.

“She’ll have to press charges,” insisted Max. “She’ll never do it.” The “Tequila King” sneered at the woman he’d obviously knocked around before Leland got downstairs.

He had been too busy not getting shot or hit with a golf club himself earlier to notice but “she” was stunning. Max’s wife had long blonde hair and striking blue eyes with a lush silhouette and legs that went on for days.

She wore shorts, a snug white t-shirt with a cardigan sweater and a wedding ring with a solitaire diamond the size of Texas. But the thing that caught Leland’s attention over and above her jaw-dropping figure was the considerable amount of blood dripping from her bee-stung bottom lip and the gash in her right arm.

Surrounded by broken mirrored glass, a teenage boy hovered behind her. Apparently Max had been gearing up to beat the hell out of his trophy wife—and in front of his son, too. Leland sought to quash the red-hot anger that surged through him.

“You really need to brush up on your assault law before you go out with your nine iron, Mr. Mercado. She doesn’t have to press charges. I witnessed the assault and you threatened me. I don’t care how wealthy you are or how awesome some think your tequila is. You’re spending the night in jail.”

The elevator door
dinged
down the hall and two officers stepped out, pulling their weapons when they saw the gun in Leland’s hand. They must have been in the lobby. This was going to get loud fast.

Leland calmly held up his ID and lowered his Ruger. “My name is Leland Hollis, I’m a DEA agent. This man was attacking that woman with a golf club and threatening me.”

The officers hustled toward him and everyone started talking at once. Emilio a.k.a. Gorilla Guy tried to scoot to the fire escape but the police had their guns out, and more officers came up the fire escape at the opposite end of the hall almost immediately.

Apparently the hotel was one block from a police substation. Everyone moved into the room, and suddenly it sounded like a cocktail party. Despite her son’s efforts with the towel, the woman’s mouth and arm continued to bleed like mad. She was taking her sweater off now, and Leland suspected her pain was starting to override the adrenaline rush that had to have come earlier with the attack. The boy grasped her elbow, and the two were deep in conversation as chaos reigned around them.

“You okay?” she studied the boy as he wrapped another towel around her bleeding arm. But the kid wasn’t making eye contact. Something was going on there.

Leland stared at them a moment more before scanning the room. By the doorway he spied electronic games scattered beside on overturned paper sack.
Nothing like a little bribery from Dad.
Leland’s anger flared at Max, but he forced himself to focus and listen to the woman and her son while they spoke to the officers.

“I was in the room upstairs and heard people yelling. My name is Leland Hollis,” he explained to the police and to her simultaneously as he showed his badge to the city’s finest once again.

With the blood, broken mirror and golf club lying there, it was fairly obvious what had happened. Two of the four officers wasted no time in handcuffing Max and Emilio and leading them both away, ignoring their protests.

The woman looked like she was trying to get to the sofa across the room, and Leland took the opportunity to help her. Her son still clung to her other side and glass crunched under their feet.

“Where are they taking my Dad?” asked Zach.

“To the police station,” said Leland.

The boy looked torn, unsure where his loyalties should lie. Leland appreciated the dilemma. This experience would mark the kid for the rest of his life. Crazy parents were difficult, no matter what the economics of the situation.

“Why do you have a gun?”

Smart kid. “I’m with the DEA.”

“Why were you—”

“You okay? Feeling light-headed?” The woman interrupted her son’s interrogation of Leland and pulled the boy down beside her on the love seat.

Leland was puzzled. Shouldn’t they be asking if she was feeling light-headed?

Zach started to shake his head, but finally looked her straight in the eye and nodded. “I’m having a hard time catching my breath,” he admitted.

This news seemed to really jack mom up.

She smiled brightly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “It’s alright. It’s just all this craziness. We need one of your white pills.” She started to stand, but the room was filled with more officers replacing the two who’d just left. “They’re on the bathroom counter.” She looked helplessly at the crowd between them and the bathroom door.

One of the officers, unaware of the small drama playing out, took the opportunity to ask questions of Zach about what had just happened.

“Stop!” she snapped.

The officer stilled. “But ma’am, I need to talk to him.”

Leland stepped in. “Not without his mother’s permission. Why don’t we take care of her arm first. You got a first aid kit?”

Officer Betts, according to his nametag, took in the blood and nodded. “Be right back. Looks like she might need stitches, but we’ve got supplies to fix her up till she gets to the hospital.”

Leland turned to her again. “What do you want me to do?” His kept his voice calm amidst the pandemonium swirling around them.

She swallowed audibly. Clearly, she didn’t trust that he could help her. “My son needs his medication . . . now. He has a heart condition with a pacemaker and this,” she swung her uninjured arm to indicate the room, “is really exacerbating things.”

Oookay
. Being jacked up—totally justified. “Where’s the medicine?”

“In my bag on the bathroom counter.”

“I’ll get it . . . sit here.” He put a hand on her shoulder and gently pushed her down into the sofa again. She started when he made contact with her collarbone. He wondered if that was a reaction to him or the husband who’d just tried to kill her.

Jeez. Where was Leland’s “stay away” tendency now? Completely crushed under the “rescue her” tendency that kicked into high gear when he was around women who were in trouble. The problem was he couldn’t always be there when the trouble was as unpredictable as it tended to be in his line of work. And his not being there could get someone dead.

 

Chapter Four

“I
’LL HELP HIM
get the medicine, Mom,” said Zach.

“But—” Anna’s stomach roiled. She didn’t want Zach to walk away from her, even in this room of police officers. The stress of the entire day, the adrenaline rush and crash, and now nausea from all the blood seeping down her arm suddenly swamped her.

“I know what I’m supposed to do,” he interrupted. “You taught me what to take if I was ever alone and needed my meds. Right now I need Atenolol. I can do it.” Zach gave her a confident smile and disappeared into the bathroom with Leland clearing the way.

Alone on the sofa, her eyes burned from unshed tears while she waited.
I will not panic
, she thought, forcing herself to calm her breathing. Zach did know what to do. She’d taught him a lot of independence in the past year, despite his illness.

Her head felt like it was going to explode from trying to figure out why Max would want to prevent Zach from checking into the hospital. Was having the police involved good news or bad, in terms of keeping her son safe? Could this kind of bizarre drama bump Zach from his place on the list?

Before she had time to dwell on that thought, Leland was walking toward her, stopping to speak with two other officers on the way.

“Where’s Zach?” she asked.

“In the bathroom talking to one of the policemen. He got his own pill. Atenolol. It was white. That’s correct, yes?” Leland settled on the sofa beside her, propping his orthopedic boot on the coffee table. “Zach says he’s fine. He’s sitting on the toilet lid, and they’re talking the latest Transformers movie.”

She wanted to believe him—that things could be this simple. But her life and Zach’s illness never were. “Please, absolutely no questions about his dad. He can’t be upset. This is extremely important. He’s so ill. It would be a bad thing.” She wanted to go and check on him herself, but Leland put a gentle hand on her arm.

“They understand. I’ve explained to the officer in charge, and he’s telling the others about Zach’s heart. They won’t question him, but they would like to talk to you . . . in case there was something you needed to tell the police that you didn’t want your boy to overhear?”

She turned to stare at him, hard. Could she tell him? He didn’t flinch under the scrutiny, still she remained silent.

“I appreciate that you’re scared, but you’ve got a real mess here, and you have to trust someone. Would you feel more comfortable with social services?” he asked.

“No! Absolutely not.” She surprised herself with the vehemence of her own response.

“Alright.” He was looking at her like she was a frightened animal that he wasn’t sure would bite or run.

“I’m sorry. I’m . . . God, I’m overwhelmed. Can you give me a minute?”

He nodded as the officer came back with the first aid kit. “No problem. Let us look at this cut while you decide what you’re going to do. You’re still bleeding quite a bit.”

She looked down only to see her blood all over the sofa. Bile rose in the back of her throat. The officer pulled supplies from the kit and went to get water while Leland started cleaning her arm.

This was crazy. She had to tell someone what was going on. Leland took her wrist as he wiped her fingers with sterile gauze. His hands were large and made hers look so small.

The visual distracted her enough to take her mind off the nausea and gather her thoughts. One: She needed help. Two: This guy seemed like he genuinely wanted to be it. And three: She had to start somewhere.

“My son, he needs a heart transplant, but there’s no donor. He’s AB negative and that’s very rare. He’s checking into CTC, Children’s Transplant Center, tomorrow for a left ventricular assist device insertion. LVAD for short. The hospital is skittish about bad PR. This incident with Max worries me. I can’t do anything that would jeopardize Zach’s place on the transplant list.”

“You think they’d bump him if his father were arrested for assault?”

“I don’t know, but I can’t take that chance. If they thought Zach wouldn’t be safe coming home? Yes, they might bump his spot or make him wait for another heart while we straightened this out with the courts.”

BOOK: Hard Target: Elite Ops - Book One
12.5Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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