Bound to Danger: A Deadly Ops Novel (20 page)

His boss just grunted. As they reached it, he rapped his knuckles on the driver’s-side window.

When it rolled down, Cade didn’t bother to hide his shock. “Holy shit.”

Jack Stone, a man he’d worked with in the past—a deadly fucking operative who’d retired a year ago—gave him a small nod. His pale eyes seemed to glow in the darkness. “Been a while, O’Reilly.”

“Yeah.” He glanced back toward the ambulance to see two armed agents hovering protectively near Maria before he turned back. “I thought you retired.”

“I did. I’m in Miami for personal reasons.” Of course no further explanations.

Cade looked at Burkhart, who shrugged. “I knew he was in the area, so I called him as soon as you contacted me about this.” He pointed over his shoulder. “Ms. Cervantes will be safer with him than with anyone else.”

That was probably true, but . . . “Where will you be staying?”

Jack gave him an assessing look, then finally spoke. “I’m in town because my wife, Sophie, wanted to see her best friend after the Westwood bombing. Her friend’s parents were supposed to have been there.” His jaw tightened at that. “We’re staying at her friend’s parents’ home. It’s well secured, so in a few hours, once the sun is up, Sophie and I will take Ms. Cervantes over there. The
residence has no ties to her or the agency. She can’t bring anything personal with her, including her cell phone.”

It had been destroyed in the blast, so that wasn’t a problem.

“She can use mine in case of an emergency or just to contact her family or you,” Stone added.

It was a good plan to keep her safe, and being sure of her security was the only way Cade would be able to do his job. Since they still weren’t positive how they’d been tracked to the current safe house, he was more apt to let Maria leave with someone who had no ties to the agency. Not to mention that Stone was lethally efficient. And as long as he had a way to contact her, Cade could live with it. “Okay. Let me go over everything with her first.”

Mouth pulled into a grim line, Burkhart nodded.

•   •   •

Levi rolled down the window of the rented SUV as he pulled up to the guard’s station at Alexander Lopez’s mansion. The arms dealer was cautious and actually likable, for a criminal. Unlike so many men and women Levi had been forced to work with over the past decade, Lopez had a moral code of sorts. He didn’t run drugs or people and he wouldn’t deal with those who did. The world wasn’t black and white and Levi could deal with Lopez’s shades of gray.

An armed guard stepped from the guardhouse, looked him and the woman in the passenger seat over, then nodded as someone spoke into his earpiece. Levi couldn’t hear what the individual had said, but the guard was clearly listening to someone.

“You’re clear,” the man said before stepping back into the small structure, which Levi knew had bullet-resistant windows.

Levi also knew he and his companion would be searched for weapons as soon as they parked. Just standard procedure.

Lopez often acted as a go-between for parties who wanted to conduct business. His home was considered neutral ground, and most people in their line of business respected that. Well, Levi wasn’t in anyone’s business. Right now this was all a job to him whether he worked for the NSA anymore or not. For almost a year and a half he’d been following one lead after another, picking up one thread when another hit a dead end. It was seemingly never ending, but he was getting closer to finding out why his wife had been murdered.

And who was behind it.

He swore he could taste how close he was.

“I’ve been here before. Who are you meeting with?” the woman sitting next to him asked.

Despite his earlier decision not to use her, he’d decided to hire this woman again. She went by the name Jasmine, but he knew her real name was Allison. Even though he’d tried digging deeper into her past, he hadn’t been able to find out how the hell she’d ended up in the escort business. Sadly, there weren’t that many options to choose from: bad family life, bad boyfriend talked her into it, she needed the money to eat—he guessed it was one of those three choices. At twenty-four, she was smart, exquisitely beautiful, and shouldn’t be selling her body for money. Hell, no one should. He wanted to remain unaffected by her, but before he left town he wanted to talk to her about getting out of the business. “You know Lopez?” he asked, ignoring her question.

She shrugged, the action casual. “Not really. I’ve serviced some of his clients before.”

“What do you think of him?” He slowly steered the vehicle down the long winding drive, wanting to draw out this conversation if she had any information on Lopez.

“He’s not so bad. I know what he does but he doesn’t hurt women.” That right there said it all. It was probably how she gauged whether someone was “not so bad” or not.

“What about Paul Hill? Do you know him?” The man Levi was supposed to meet at Lopez’s house. They’d been supposed to meet at the Opulen, but after the shit storm earlier, Hill had canceled.

It was subtle, but her expression tightened ever so slightly. “I’ve never met him.”

A nice, vague answer.

“But you know of him?” he asked as he parked the SUV.

“I know that many women in a line of work similar to mine go into his hotel and never come out.” Her voice was icy, her expression remote.

His eyebrows rose as he filed the information away. If that was true, he was surprised Lopez was letting the man onto his property. Levi didn’t respond and she didn’t speak again as armed guards opened their doors.

After they were thoroughly checked for weapons, including his vehicle, they were shown into the marbled entryway of Lopez’s home. Well, one of his homes. An oversized, gaudy sculpture of a nude woman cupping one of her breasts with one hand while the other was between her legs was the first thing they saw upon entry.

“So classy,” Allison/Jasmine murmured, and despite himself, he smiled.

“No accounting for tastes.” He kept his voice just as low.

Moments later, Alexander strode out wearing a brightly colored Hawaiian button-down shirt, khaki pants, and flip-flops. He nodded politely at Levi’s escort, then looked at Levi—though Lopez knew him as Isaiah Moore. “Hill isn’t coming.”

Levi tensed, annoyance filtering through him, but he kept his stance casual. “Why not?”

The other man glanced at the two guards standing at two of the entrances. Then he looked at Levi’s companion. “Sweetheart, why don’t you escort my men to the terrace? There’s a beautiful view and a full bar.” It wasn’t a suggestion.

Levi didn’t look at her but kept his gaze on Lopez, his expression deadly. “No one touches her.”

Lopez rolled his eyes as if the thought was absurd. Once they were alone, he motioned that they should head up the marble stairway behind him. A minute later Levi found himself sitting on a long leather Chesterfield couch in the other man’s office. He accepted a scotch to be polite, but it remained untouched on the table next to him.

Lopez leaned against the front of his desk, his arms crossed over his chest in the first gesture of nervousness Levi had ever seen from the man.

That was when he realized he needed to start the conversation. “Why isn’t Hill meeting us and why didn’t you just contact me to let me know the meeting was canceled?” He didn’t like wasting his time.

“Hill is into dirty shit. I didn’t realize it until yesterday when . . . a concerned party informed me that it would be beneficial to my life span if I didn’t do business with him anymore.”

“Dirty shit?”

“He’s apparently selling people, among other things, and I don’t touch that. But . . . he’s also on a hit list. He actually canceled on me first, but it was right after I heard that he’s being hunted. My guess is, he’s gone into hiding.”

“Heard from whom?”

Lopez shrugged, placing his hands on the desk on either side of him. “Anonymous tip. Doesn’t matter. I’m not doing business with him and you shouldn’t either. He’s been seriously down low about his dealings until now. I can’t believe I didn’t know . . .” He trailed off, shaking his head.

It took all Levi’s control to rein in his anger. He didn’t like to work with scum, but Hill had been a solid lead. “What about his business partners?”

“They’re on the same list.”

Well, shit.
He thought he was one step closer to finding Meghan’s killer. Tightening his jaw, he took a deep breath. He refused to hit another dead end. “Tell me how to find him.”

Shock and awe: a military doctrine meaning rapid dominance. A technique using an overwhelming display of force to paralyze your target’s perception of the battleground.

C
ade looked down at the flat-screen of his handheld device. The aerial drone the NSA had in place had picked up four heat signatures in the isolated cabin they’d discovered thanks to Moran’s discarded cell phone. It was impossible to distinguish between human and animal, but they were ninety-nine percent sure the men they’d been hunting were inside. The cell signal was still working and the figures had been moving around at different intervals.

This was swampland in the middle of the Everglades; far enough away from civilization that no one would bother the terrorists out here. Instead of coming in with a full assault team, Burkhart had decided to send an eight-man team, Cade leading them.

There were only two ways in and out of here. By airboat or driving the long, winding, dusty road that led to a paved road—which eventually led back to some semblance of civilization. Considering that they hadn’t seen
many vehicle tracks on the way here and the aerial view didn’t have a visual of transportation other than an airboat tied to a dock, it looked as if the terrorists had been coming and going by boat.

Out of instinct, Cade checked his weapon again, then ran a hand down the front of his armor. He was armed, protected, and ready to go. Nevertheless, adrenaline pumped through him at rapid speeds.

Cade and his men had been dropped off two miles away near the start of the dirt road. Then they’d trekked in on foot. After leaving the destruction of the safe house—and Maria in Jack’s capable hands—he and Burkhart had met up with the rest of the team his boss had handpicked. They’d geared up at a warehouse the NSA had decided to use as a temporary base of operations, flown to the Everglades on helicopters that landed in a field in the middle of nowhere, and then had been driven another ten miles to the drop-off point. The operation was moving faster than normal, but so far everything was going smoothly.

More agents were driving in from Miami, but Burkhart had wanted to move as fast as possible on this lead. Since he was the boss, there’d been no bureaucratic bullshit red tape to hack through.

“The Semtex is in place,” Ortiz said, his voice low over their linked comm.

Despite Ortiz’s having been hit in the chest at the Opulen, his body armor had saved him from being truly injured. The man was bruised, but nothing more. Cade was surprised he didn’t have broken ribs. He’d volunteered for this assault and Burkhart had given him the all-clear, so that was good enough for Cade. Hell, they didn’t become Black Death 9 agents by being fucking pussies.

“Any movement on the water?” he asked, just as quietly.

Ortiz and another man had been assigned to rig the boat with Semtex before the rest of the men made their move. It was all part of the plan. If possible, Burkhart wanted to bring the men in alive. The NSA had to know how big the threat against Miami was. And they all wanted to know the
why
of the attacks. They might have an idea, but they needed specifics.

“Just gators.”

A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips before Cade set the small device down next to a cypress tree. “Everybody get in position.”

The cabin itself had about fifty feet of open space surrounding it from all sides. It would make a surprise ground assault difficult, but not impossible. Especially not with his team’s weapons of choice.

Cade stayed where he was, behind a giant cypress tree, waiting a few seconds before checking in. “Ortiz, you ready?”

“Affirmative.”

“Freeman?”

“Affirmative.”

“Bell?”

“Affirmative.”

They were the three men on the team who had very specific tasks and they had to work in sync with one another for this plan to work.

“Alpha Team?” he asked, waiting for the reply from the rest of the group. Once the other four responded in the affirmative, he pulled his M-4 up, ready to infiltrate. “Three-two-go.”

On the word “go,” the dawn sky lit up with a brilliant
shower of orange-and-red fire, the ball of black smoke mushrooming in a giant cloud as the airboat was incinerated.

Using hand launchers, Bell and Freeman shot tear gas through two windows, on opposite sides of the cabin. Almost immediately two blasts, then shattering glass rent the air.

“Flash bangs!” Cade shouted, moving from his position behind the tree.

He’d taken two steps when he saw the simultaneous discharges light up the interior of the place. Like a well-oiled machine, the entire team converged on the cabin, completely circling around it.

The destruction of the boat combined with the incapacitating gas and flash bangs was all part of their shock-and-awe tactic for this operation. It was difficult to engage a true rapid-dominance approach all the time, but for this assault, the circumstances had been damn near perfect.

Shouts of agony came from inside. A man tumbled out of one of the shattered windows, a weapon held loosely at his side as he fell to his knees.

Though he’d been trained to shoot to kill, Cade fired at the man’s right hand. They wanted these men alive for questioning. His aim was deadly, blood splattering as the pistol fell from the terrorist’s grip. The man raised his hands, clawing at his eyes—a result of the concentrated tear gas.

“Securing the tango now,” one of his men said as Cade continued toward the front of the cabin. The door flung open. Another man exited, one hand wiping at his red, splotchy face as he raised a SIG. It didn’t matter that the guy probably couldn’t see for shit. He could get off a lucky shot.

Reflex kicked in. Cade fired, aiming to miss major arteries, but if the guy didn’t drop the weapon, he was going down.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
A bullet ripped through the terrorist’s shoulder, upper arm, then outer thigh.

His body jerked and the weapon tumbled to the floor, the man shouting in agony. He should be thanking Cade for not killing him.

“Tango down,” said one of his men, followed quickly by another.

Including the target Cade had just incapacitated, that made four. He didn’t let himself relax, though. Not until this entire place was secure.

On his knees, the terrorist Cade had shot met his gaze, dark eyes filled with hatred. His face was swollen from the gas, the redness streaking down his cheeks in what looked like bee stings. As the SIG fell from the man’s fingers, Cade spotted something else in the man’s other hand.

Understanding kicked in like a full-force body blow. The device he held was a small black box with a flashing red light. As it tumbled to the wooden porch, another light turned green.

Cade had seen that type of detonator before. “Dead man’s switch!” he shouted, putting one bullet through the man’s head. “Pull out!” he yelled as the man toppled over.

Through his earpiece he heard curses as they all jumped into action.

He only got five strides in before the explosion ripped through the air. The force of the blast shook the ground, but didn’t lift Cade into the air as he’d expected. His legs burned as he ran for cover, his entire body tense as he dove behind a tree. There wasn’t a shock wave as he’d expected, the explosion almost muted in intensity.

“Alpha Team, check in.” Once he had confirmation all his men were secure, he peered around the tree. The target who’d set off the bomb was a charred lump on the porch, but one of the other terrorists was moving on the ground, his arms secured behind his back, wooden debris littered around his body.

“Am I the only one, or was that blast weak?” Ortiz asked, voicing what Cade was thinking.

“Everyone move back another fifty feet. Now.” He’d been in situations before where an initial blast would go off, then another a few minutes later. Those tactics maximized damage, taking out operatives and first responders if they let their guard down.

Cade raced along the underbrush, weaving in and out of trees with ease, the damp ground making squishing sounds under his boots. As he came to a stop, another explosion tore through the swampy area. Through the trees he saw black smoke billowing upward in a whoosh.

Shit. None of the remaining targets would have survived that. After everyone checked in once again, he radioed Burkhart. “Send in a cleanup crew,” he said, even though his boss had seen everything from the aerial view.

“Any survivors?”

“I doubt it, but we’ll do a preliminary sweep.”

Burkhart let out a harsh curse, before he said, “See you in ten.”

The line went dead before Cade could respond, but there was nothing to say. The leads they’d hoped to gain were gone. They might find something useful in the rubble, but it could take hours or days to find anything. And time wasn’t a luxury they could afford.

•   •   •

Mihails looked down at the cell phone only he and his men had the number for. It was one of their emergency phones. The text came from one of the men at the cabin: 9-1-1. That meant only one thing. They’d been compromised and would set off the prerigged explosives that acted as their last resort. There was no other meaning for that signal.

“The cabin was discovered,” he said quietly to Oto, who was driving, and Kristaps, who sat in the backseat. Kristaps had managed to avoid detection at the Opulen and had escaped once everyone cleared out.

Immediately Mihails began making new plans, deciding the best path for them now. Mourning the loss of his men wasn’t an option right now. If they were truly dead, they’d died for a cause and Mihails would respect that. He had to. This mission was far from over and he wouldn’t have let his men die in vain.

Oto let out a vicious curse, one Mihails agreed with. They had accomplished so much. The Westwood hit alone was impressive, but it wasn’t enough.

As of now he had to assume the worst: The cabin was decimated and all his men were dead. And he couldn’t reach Fedor or Moran. It was possible that Moran had killed his man and was now in hiding, but that scenario was doubtful. No, with the cabin’s location known, it meant the government was closing in on them. How much did they know?

“We need to find out what they know and we need leverage.” Oto’s words mirrored what he’d been thinking himself.

They had different safe houses around South Florida, but the Everglades location had been the most secure. Or he’d assumed it had been.

When he didn’t respond, Oto continued. “Hill and his partners are in the wind—for now. We should take the Cervantes woman, find out what she’s told the authorities, then use her if we need her. Until our contacts have reported about Hill’s whereabouts, we should go after her. Or Hill’s lawyer.”

Mihails agreed. Going after the woman would be their first order of business, but he wanted to take Tennyson too. According to the early-morning local news, Clay Ervin had been found murdered in a rough part of town. Since the man was wealthy and well known, his death had been deemed important enough to report. The news had also mentioned that he’d been held by the police only hours before his murder and that he’d been seen leaving the station with Piers Tennyson. An attorney for monsters. “We’ll take both. First the woman, then Tennyson. If we apply enough pressure, he’ll talk.” Torturing a man like that would be a pleasure. He would be all bluster until the pain started. In Mihails’s experience, it was always the same with men like that. And Mihails had no problem implementing brute force to discover the whereabouts of Paul Hill.

“Her friend Leah Davis doesn’t live far from here,” Kristaps said, the first words he’d spoken since they left the Everglades.

Even thinking that they could have been in the Everglades when the cabin was discovered sent an icy chill snaking down Mihails’s spine. Turning around as Oto continued driving steadily down I-95, Mihails looked at Kristaps.

The other man was looking at his computer. He turned it around for Mihails to view. “The address from her file. We could be there in less than ten minutes.”

Mihails nodded and plugged the address into their GPS. Miami was large and even though they’d been doing reconnaissance of the city for the past few months, they still needed help navigating places. And he’d never prepared for the Cervantes woman. He still knew relatively little about her except what information he’d managed to gather from Andre Moran. Since the government was protecting her, his men had been careful not to do searches of her name. Those types of searches would send alerts to the authorities, and even though his men were good at covering their tracks, it hadn’t been a risk he’d wanted to take. Not when Moran had been more than willing to provide information on her.

Taking Maria Cervantes’s friend wouldn’t guarantee her cooperation, but it would be a start in the right direction. And the Davis woman was the easier target, compared to Maria’s guarded family. According to Moran, she and the woman were more like sisters than coworkers.

Yes, this would be the best option right now. Especially since Maria had just lost her mother. She would be feeling even more protective of those closest to her.

The drive to the woman’s neighborhood was quicker than expected. There weren’t as many people on the street this early. While he didn’t like conducting an operation without planning, they were well armed and one untrained woman would be no match for them. He just hoped she was alone. Otherwise any companion would die.

After driving down the street a few times, they decided to go for the hard approach. The risk was higher, but they didn’t have the luxury of time and planning. Oto pulled into her driveway and once they were positive no one was watching—as sure as they could be—they all exited the vehicle.

“I’ll take the front. Oto, you take the back. Kristaps . . .” He pointed to the east side of the house. On their drive-bys, he’d seen that it had more windows.

Waiting on the front porch of the one-story cottage, he tensed when he heard a loud bang, then a breaking of glass. Oto and Kristaps were in. A piercing alarm went off, the sound shattering the quiet. Heart rate increasing, he glanced down the street once more. There was no time to waste.

The front door was flung open and a pretty blond-haired woman with wide blue eyes slammed right into him. Oto and Kristaps were right behind her, their expressions grim. Without pause, he swung out, hitting her across the jaw.