Seduction Under Fire (22 page)

“Sweet of you to offer, but I’m late for a meeting. I’ll see you around.”

Her brother and the other men pulled their guns out of their jackets and aimed at Aaron’s chest. Aaron thought about the arsenal stashed in his backpack, but he’d never have time to even pull the pin on a grenade before the three men shot him.

“I wasn’t offering you a choice,” she said.

One of the men plucked Aaron’s gun from his hand. The other dragged him off the bike and frisked him. Ramón relieved him of the backpack. He was pushed along behind Ana up the stairs to her apartment, with Ramón and the others pulling up the rear of the procession.

“Tell me,” Aaron said as they walked. “Do you work for Rodrigo Perez?”

“Oh, God, no. Ramón works for my father, Antonio Vega.”

Nothing Ana could’ve said would have surprised Aaron more. They reached the apartment and he gaped at her as the hulking men shoved him inside. Ramón entered last and closed the door.

“You’re related to Gael Vega?” Aaron whispered in disbelief. “You’re with the La Mérida Cartel?”

She perched on the arm of the sofa and gestured for Aaron to sit in a chair. “Very good. Gael is my uncle. Since he was arrested, there has been quite a jostling for control. If my brother and I can deliver La Paz to our father, he will gain my uncle’s approval as his replacement and we will become the most powerful family in Mexico.”

“I assumed you were behind the Cortez Cartel’s ambush of Camille at the supermarket. But you’re part of the La Mérida Cartel,” Aaron said.

“La Paz is about to become La Mérida’s most important territory. Why dirty our hands ridding it of nosy American law enforcement when Perez wants you dead, too? I tipped off his men anonymously.”

Aaron pulled his face in surprise. “Why kill us? We were doing all the dirty work for you.”

“Yes. It is true that Milán’s stronghold in La Paz made it too risky for our family to move in. But you and Camille have been extremely helpful. As soon as I realized that, I sat back and enjoyed the show.”

The mention of the reclusive cartel boss threw Aaron for another loop. “Is Milán here, in La Paz?”

Ramón laughed. “Not for long.”

Ana ignored her brother. “With so many of his men murdered in the past few weeks, Milán’s not happy with Rodrigo Perez. He flew in yesterday to handle the mess and has recalled Perez and his men to his estate, making this the perfect opportunity for us to relieve them all of their power.”

Aaron swallowed hard. The only way he understood cartels to oust each other from power was through vicious, indiscriminate bloodshed. “His estate is southeast of La Paz?”

“Yes. At least until we blow it up tonight.”

Oh, no. “Wait,” he croaked. “I have a counteroffer.”

Ana looked amused. “That’s sweet, Aaron. But like Milán, you have outlived your usefulness.”

Ramón shoved the butt of his gun in Aaron’s ribs and hoisted him onto his feet.

No. He couldn’t die now, not when he was so close to saving Camille, not when his death would destroy her chance of rescue tonight by the ICE unit. Pulling his arm from Ramón’s grip, he squared his shoulders. “I disagree. Why not let me finish the job by taking down Milán and Perez? It’s no risk to your family to let me try. If the Cortez Cartel kills me in the process, your hands are still clean.”

“I’m not sure I see how that would be worthwhile for me and my family.”

“Look, if you blow up Milán’s estate tonight, you’ll kill Camille—a decorated law enforcement officer—and Rodrigo Perez’s kidnapped daughter who’s an American citizen. I’ve already notified my bosses about Camille’s recapture at Milán’s property. And I’ve already notified them about you, Ana. If you kill me, Camille and Perez’s daughter, you’ll bring the wrath of the entire Unites States law enforcement down on the La Mérida Cartel. You know I’m right. Do you think your uncle will allow your father to lead the family after that?”

Judging by the clench of her jaw and the white of her knuckles, she heard his message loud and clear.

She placed a hand on Ramón’s wrist and he lowered his weapon. Crossing her arms over her chest, she studied Aaron. “How long do you need?”

Aaron’s heart pounded as his hope blossomed. “One day, that’s all. Give me one day and I’ll hand you the keys to the city.”

With a nod, she opened her front door and held his backpack out to him. “One day. And if you fail, you and your precious Camille won’t live to see day two.” She ran her tongue over her lower lip. “Get out of here before I change my mind.”

Chapter 16

A
aron did a quick roll call with the three firearms he’d concealed on his person for his meeting with Santero. No doubt about it, he trusted the guy, but stalking through the alleyways of La Paz at dusk carried its own inherent risks. And the confrontation with Ana had rattled him to the core. He would not be caught off guard again.

Unlike the last time he’d come to this abandoned, half-constructed building, tonight he wheeled the dirt bike inside and propped it along the wall, out of sight from the road. Santero hadn’t arrived, which gave Aaron too much time to think. Too much time to remember. But, then, what had he expected, choosing this building as a rendezvous point?

He crouched along the far wall and smoothed a hand over the smear of dry blood. First time he’d ever stripped Camille of her clothes had been in this very spot, when he’d thought the blood saturating her jacket and shirt had been hers.

“Jesus Christ,” came a harsh whisper from the alley. Aaron whirled, drawing his gun. “You better be in there, Montgomery, because a rat the size of a freakin’ dog just ran over my foot.”

“I’m here.”

Through the doorway walked a lean-muscled, scowling Latino man about Aaron’s age.

“Diego Santero?” Aaron asked.

“In the flesh. You gonna shoot me?”

Aaron tucked the gun in his waistband. “Sorry. I’m a little on edge.”

“Maybe it’s this creepy place you picked for a meeting. Is that blood on the wall?”

“You said to choose somewhere quiet, and I know firsthand a person could spend hours here without drawing notice.”

Santero held his hands up in mock surrender. “I’m just saying. The ambience sucks.”

“My partner’s been kidnapped, so excuse me if I don’t give a damn about ambience.”

Santero sniffed and stalked to the window, sinking his weight into his arms on the ledge as he stared at the alley outside. “Here’s the deal. When those federal stiffs asked me to share my operation with Mr. Desert ICE himself, I nearly peed my pants laughing. I never share control of my jobs. You got that?” He pushed from the window and glared at Aaron.

“Absolutely.” He got it, all right, but was having trouble syncing the image he’d formed in his head about a Latin-American agent named Diego Santero and the hostile, Jersey-accent-sporting jerk who’d shown up. “By federal stiffs, you mean Dreyer?”

“Freakin’ Dreyer. He has the personality of drywall. The man talks like he’s got his butt cheeks clenched all the time. What a piece of work.”

“He’s your boss.” Probably the wrong thing to say because Santero got up in his face real quick.

“You got a problem with my opinion already, Montgomery? You want to get into it right here in the middle of this rathole?”

Yikes. Aaron flexed his fingers, squelching the urge to punch Santero in the jaw. “Nope.”

“This is my extraction job,” Santero continued, backing off. “I call the shots. You want to play like you’re a real ICE agent, fine. But you’d better keep a cool head because if your bleeding heart interferes with me doing my job, you’re out. Understood?”

Aaron wasn’t the one blowing his top at the moment, but he wasn’t going to point that out. “I’m good. Let’s roll.”

As if he had his mood on some sort of switch, Santero’s face softened. He slapped Aaron on the back. Maybe the anger had been an act to test Aaron’s ability to keep his emotions in check. “We’ll ditch your bike, take my van.”

Aaron nodded and started for the door.

“One more thing, Montgomery.” He waited for Aaron to stop and look at him. “We’re going to get her back. That’s my job. And I’m really, really good at it.”

* * *

Diego pulled into the garage of a ramshackle house on the western edge of the city. The place didn’t look much like a covert ops war room, but while in Mexico, Aaron had learned the hard way that nothing—and no one, for that matter—could be taken at face value.

They entered the house through a door in the garage. The front room was full of dusty furniture, the curtain wide open to the street out front. Behind the wall separating the front room from the kitchen, out of view from the exposed window, Thomas Dreyer stood in front of a room full of high-tech computer equipment.

Aaron recovered from the shock of seeing his boss and shook Dreyer’s hand. “Didn’t realize you were going to be here, sir.”

Dreyer afforded him a terse nod. “ICE agents always have each other’s backs. That’s the first rule you’ll need to know now that you’re on the job, Agent Montgomery.”

Wait...did that mean...
“You’re bringing me on to the ICE unit?”

“Welcome to the Department of Homeland Security. Glad to have you aboard.”

Santero coughed. “I think I threw up a little in my mouth, watching you two kiss each other’s butts. Real freakin’ heartwarming. How about we get on with the mission?” He stalked down a hallway.

Aaron followed. He’d suddenly been hired for his dream job, something he’d worked himself to the bone for the past year to achieve, and he felt nothing. Job titles, Santero’s belligerence—none of it mattered until Camille was safe in his arms again. Then maybe, just maybe, he’d sock Santero in the jaw like he wanted to and celebrate his new career.

In the middle of the back bedroom, four men and a woman leaned over a table covered in satellite photographs. A familiar face popped up, smiling. “Aaron!” Nicholas Wells strode over and shook his hand. “Good to see you alive and well, man.”

“That would be thanks to Camille. She saved my hide more than once down here.”

“Sounds like it’s time to turn the tables and do a little saving of our own.”

“Got that right. How’d you and Dreyer get down here so fast?”

Wells shrugged. “ICE sprung for the private jet, seeing as how we’re going to bring down two cartel kingpins and rescue a missing child and a kidnapped police officer.”

“Yeah, they’re good like that.”

Santero commanded the attention of the room. “Montgomery, you already know Wells. Here’s the rest of my crew—Ryan Reitano, John Witter, Rory Alderman and Alicia Troy. We’ve got two choppers standing by on a Navy vessel on the Pacific side of Baja. You’ve already been to the target property, but check out these satellite images we pulled about an hour ago. Sorriest security system I’ve ever seen.”

From an aerial view, the Milán estate wasn’t so much a fortress as an opulent mansion set close to the water and padded with thick tropical landscape. With its multiple balconies, brickwork and innumerable windows, the house would be simple enough to breach once they got past the gates and the guards. The backyard boasted a white sand beach and a private dock with three impressive boats tied to it—a yacht larger than the
Happily Ever After,
a motorboat built for speed and a midsize fishing boat.

Troy tapped her finger on the photograph near the image of a huge, turquoise swimming pool. “Two armed guards are all we can pick out in the back. Two more in the front.”

The white delivery truck sat in the circular driveway on the property’s west side. “There’s enough space on the front driveway to chopper down,” Aaron said.

Santero shook off the idea. “Not the right call for a hostage situation. If the tangos get wind of us, they could slit the hostages’ throats before we cross the property line.”

He tossed a photograph on top of the pile, the image zoomed back to encompass the landscape and water for a good ten miles in either direction, and pointed to the water edging the first property on the north side, four estates from their target. “We’ll swim in from here. Once we’ve breached the shore, we’ll follow the fence line of Milán’s property to the foliage under the south-side balcony. From there, subduing the tangos will be as easy as plinking cows with a BB gun. To get in that position, though, we’ll need a diversion for the guards.”

Aaron took Camille’s cell-phone detonator out of his pocket and set it on the table. “That, I can handle.”

* * *

Camille woke in darkness. Lying prone on the hard ground, she rolled to her side with a wince. Her head was killing her.

The layer of crust on her lips tasted like blood. Not surprising.

She squirmed her way to a seated position with her back resting against the wall to take stock of the situation.

Damn. Once again she was a cartel hostage, imprisoned in an empty, cell-like room. This time, her hands had been bound in front of her with zip ties. This time, she was without Aaron or a rusty chair or even a window.

She was clothed, which was a bonus, because the air was cold and pungent with the smell of dirt. As if maybe she was in a basement...or a dungeon. She looked at the bare ceiling, made visible by the thin strip of light streaming under the door, and hissed through the pain when the back of her head hit the wall.

She’d done the right thing, pushing Aaron from the taxi. If they’d both been captured, they’d both be trapped in this room with little hope of rescuing either themselves or Rosalia. If they’d both jumped from the car, the chance of one of them getting shot would’ve been too great. But with Aaron free, he could get help from the ICE unit standing by to rescue Rosalia, which was all that mattered to Camille. They could follow the tracking device to the cartel’s stronghold, save the little girl and shut down the cartel.

Whether or not that’s where Camille had been taken remained to be seen. Either way, sitting around waiting for help wasn’t in her blood.

She tested the zip tie around her wrists. Made of heavy-duty nylon cable, it had been tightened to a snug fit that cut into her skin.

No problem.

She crawled to the thick metal door and listened for a sound of approach but heard none. Satisfied that she had at least a couple of minutes to work, she tucked her knee up close to her body and untied a shoelace.