Suicide Mission (18 page)

Bill had long since learned to roll with the punches, mental as well as physical. His surprised reaction lasted only a second before he controlled it. He stepped back, returned Catalina's smile, and waved a hand for her to come in.

“Didn't expect to ever see you again, young lady,” he said. He glanced at Clark. “I thought you had her stashed somewhere safe.”

“We did,” Clark said. “She insisted on coming to see you.”

Bill knew that wasn't the whole story. Clark never did anything without a good reason that would further his own agenda. Bill just had to figure out what that was . . . assuming Clark didn't just come out and tell him.

Bill glanced at Bailey and Stillman and saw that they were eyeing Catalina appreciatively. There was a lot to appreciate. She wore camo trousers and a white T-shirt, like they did, only the outfit looked a lot better on her. It also emphasized how athletic she was. She looked like she was ready to kick ass.

As that thought went through Bill's brain, he felt a tingle of alarm. He muttered, “Oh, hell no.”

“What was that?” Catalina asked as she came into the room. “Aren't you going to offer an old friend a beer?”

“We didn't spend all that much time together,” Bill said. “I don't know if you could call us old friends.”

Wade Stillman said, “Shouldn't you introduce us to the lady, Bill?”

He glared briefly at the young ex-soldier and said, “You fellas are smart enough to have figured it out already. This is Señorita Catalina Ramos. She's the one who helped me keep San Antonio from bein' blown off the map.”

Bailey nodded gravely and said, “It's a pleasure, ma'am.”

“It sure is,” Stillman added.

Bill sighed, shook his head, and said, “I'll get that beer. And then you're gonna tell us what you're really up to, Clark.”

“Me?” Clark said in mock innocence. “I just came to deliver the bad news about Maleef.”

“Uh-huh.” Bill's skepticism was obvious.

He brought another beer from the kitchen, gave it to Catalina, and nodded her into the chair where he had been sitting. As the others resumed their seats, he perched on the arm of the sofa next to Bailey and said, “All right, Clark, spill it. What's Catalina really doin' here?”

“I told you, she insisted on coming to see you.”

“That's right, I did,” Catalina said. “Actually, though, I'd been asking about that for a couple of weeks without getting anywhere.”

“Until Maleef got loose,” Bill said. He started connecting dots. “You thought the cartel might come after her, didn't you, Clark?”

“There's always been a danger of that,” Clark said. “We have every confidence in our ability to keep Señorita Ramos safe, though. Maleef's escape didn't really have anything to do with bringing her here.”

Catalina took a long swallow of the cold beer, lowered the bottle, and said, “I want to go with you, Bill.”

Even though he'd been halfway expecting that, he frowned at her and said, “What?”

“I want to go with you,” she said again. “I want to help you put Maleef and Estancia and whoever else is mixed up in this out of business, once and for all.”

Bill came to his feet and barked, “That's the damned craziest thing I've ever heard!”

Bailey and Stillman looked shocked. Catalina regarded all of them coolly and said, “Why? You saw for yourself how I can handle myself in a fight, Bill. I didn't ever hold you back, did I?”

“Well . . . no,” he admitted. “But this isn't the same thing. We may be goin' up against hundreds of enemies—”

“All the more reason to have an extra hand on your side,” Clark chimed in with a smile tugging at his mouth.

“That's not funny,” Bill snapped.

“Look, you're thinking that a Mexican stripper couldn't possibly be any help to you, I know that,” Catalina said. “But you know what sort of life I've led. I've had to survive in some really bad situations. I can handle a gun, and I'm a good driver.”

“We've got a driver,” Bill said.

Catalina ignored the interruption. She went on, “I've had some MMA training, too. I can fight.”

“A little practice to put on a show isn't the same as trainin',” Bill scoffed.

Catalina's eyes narrowed. She set the beer bottle aside on a small table next to the chair, being careful to put it on a coaster. As she leaned forward, she said, “If you want to see what I can do, I'd be glad to give you a demonstration.”

“I don't think that—”

She pointed at Wade Stillman.

“Him,” she said.

“Me?” Stillman said with a confused frown.

Catalina came lithely to her feet and made beckoning motions with both hands, curling her fingers toward her.

“Come on, amigo,” she said. “What's your name?”

“It's, uh, Wade.”

“Come on, Wade. See if you can take me down.” Her eyebrows quirked up and down. “Unless you're afraid . . .”

Stillman looked at Bill.

“This isn't a very good place for a fight,” Bill said.

“Fights pick the place, not the other way around.”

“That's true,” he said. “All right, Wade.” Bill made a little waving motion. “Give the señorita what she wants.”

Wade looked pretty dubious about the whole thing, but he unbuckled the belt that held his holstered Colt and handed it to Bailey, who was trying not to grin.

“I notice the girl didn't try to pick a fight with you,” Wade muttered.

“She knows better,” Bailey said.

Catalina said, “Actually, I thought I'd warm up with the little one, then see what you can do.”

“Whoa,” Bailey said. “Big talk.”

“Not if you can back it up.”

Clark crossed his arms and said, “This isn't a banter-off. Are we gonna see any action or not?”

Wade didn't wait for any more urging. He lunged at Catalina, going in low, obviously intending to upend her and put her on the floor.

She twisted out of the way and spun in a half-turn as she whipped her foot around in a kick aimed at his head. Wade recovered in midair, caught her calf, and heaved. With a startled yelp, Catalina went over backward and crashed to the floor.

Wade caught himself on his hands and rolled, but as he came up Catalina had already regained her feet as well. Bill thought she looked a little winded, like the fall had knocked the breath out of her, but she didn't let that stop her as she came at Wade with another kick.

That was just a feint, though, and as he moved to block it Catalina shot out a short, sharp punch that landed squarely on his jaw and rocked his head back. He blinked in surprise, but when she tried to follow that blow with another, he was ready and turned it aside with a forearm.

He had an opening then for a counterpunch of his own, but he didn't take it. That second of hesitation gave her a chance to recover. She wheeled into another kick that landed hard enough on Wade's shoulder to knock him back several feet.

“You had a shot at me!” Catalina said. “Why didn't you take it?”

“I was raised not to hit girls,” Wade replied with a grin that he had to know would infuriate her.

Pretty clever, thought Bill. Catalina gave in to her anger and surged toward him with a flurry of blows almost too fast for the eye to follow. Wade was ready for her, though. He gave ground for a second, drawing her in even more, then caught one of her arms and went over backward, executing a perfect throw with a foot planted in her belly for leverage. Catalina sailed through the air and landed on the sofa, bouncing once before she rolled off and landed on the floor.

“That was lucky,” Bailey said.

“Luck, hell,” Wade said. “I aimed her there.”

Catalina scrambled to her feet. She didn't make any excuses. She just attacked again, striking out with swift combinations of punches and kicks. Wade dodged or blocked most of them, but a few of them got through and tagged him. A bruise began to form on his jaw, and one of Catalina's knuckles had opened up a tiny cut above his left eye.

She switched tactics suddenly, going for a wrestling hold instead of punching, and they both went to the floor. Before she could pin him, though, Wade neatly reversed the hold, rolled over, and had her trapped facedown with him on top of her. Her arm was trapped, and all he had to do was put a little more pressure on it to pop her shoulder out of joint.

“This is . . . where you say uncle,” he told her, a little breathless from their exertions.

“Go . . . to . . . hell!” she gasped back at him. She bucked and writhed, trying to break his grip. It was too tight, though, and she couldn't do it.

“That's enough,” Bill said.

“No!” Catalina cried. “I can . . . get loose.”

“Not in a hundred years,” Wade grated back at her.

“Get . . . off me!” She gasped again. “Oh, my God! What's that I feel? Are you getting . . . Oh, God, you are!”

Wade jerked back and exclaimed, “Good Lord! I swear I didn't—”

That reaction gave Catalina just enough room to twist slightly in his grasp, worm her other arm free, and bring the elbow around into his jaw with stunning force. His grip slipped even more. She kicked against the floor and rolled both of them over. The arm he had almost dislocated was loose again. She rammed the heel of that hand up under his chin and forced his head back almost far enough to break his neck.

“John,” Bill said.

Bailey had set aside Wade's gun. Now he swooped in, got both arms around Catalina's waist, and straightened, taking her with him. She flailed arms and legs in the air and yelled, “Put me down, you big lummox!”

“Calm down,” Bill told her. “We don't want anybody gettin' hurt here.”

“Maybe you don't!”

“We're all supposed to be on the same side,” he reminded her. “Give me your word you'll stop fightin', and I'll have Bailey put you down.”

She looked like she wanted to argue, and more important, she looked like she wanted to keep throwing punches, but after a moment she stopped struggling, glared at Bill, and said, “All right, I give you my word.”

Bill nodded to John Bailey, who lowered Catalina until her feet were on the floor again. When he let go of her and stepped back, she whirled and brought up a fist that streaked at his chin.

The punch didn't go very far. Bailey's ham-like hand intercepted it, his fingers closing around her fist and dwarfing it. The blow stopped short, as if her arm had reached the end of a thick chain.

“Looks like your word's not worth much,” he said dryly.

“Oh.” She was fuming, just about to boil over. “ You . . . you . . .”

Wade got to his feet, rubbed his jaw, and looked at Catalina with narrow-eyed anger.

“That wasn't fair,” he told her. “You know good and well what you accused me of isn't true. The only thing you felt was the humiliation of getting beat.”

Clark said, “Oh, I don't know about that. It looked to me like Señorita Ramos used every weapon she had to
keep
from getting beat.”

“Well, yeah, but it was cheating,” Wade insisted.

“No such thing in a real fight,” Bill said. “There's just winnin' and losin'. And it looked to me like you lost, Wade.”

“I didn't,” Bailey said.

Catalina sneered at him and said, “That's because you're a freak of nature.”

“You children settle down and behave,” Bill drawled. “Catalina, you handled yourself pretty good. But you're still not comin' with us to Barranca de la Serpiente. It's just too dangerous.”

“Clark tells me you have another woman going with you.”

“She's ex–Special Forces.”

“Can she handle herself as well in a fight as I can?”

It would be quite a battle, Bill thought. For all of Megan's slim, elegant beauty, she was still tough as nails. If he was being honest with himself, though, he wasn't sure Megan could take Catalina in a fair fight.

“Doesn't matter,” he said curtly. “I'm in charge of this team, and I'm not takin' along an amateur, even a talented one.”

“Technically,” Clark said, “I'm in charge of this team.”

Bill looked at him and asked coolly, “Are you gonna try to pull rank on me, after knowin' me as long as you have?”

“I didn't say I was a damn fool.” Clark looked at Catalina and shrugged. “I promised I'd try, Señorita Ramos, out of gratitude for the help you gave us before, but I'm afraid Bill's going to have to have the last word on this.”

“But I can help,” Catalina insisted. “I know the cartel. I know how those animals think. I've been around them for years.”

She actually had a point there, thought Bill, but it wasn't enough to change his mind.

“Sorry,” he said, and meant it. He liked Catalina, and like Clark, he felt grateful to her for everything she had done so far. But that had to be the end of it.

She sighed and asked, “Can I at least stay here with you while you're getting ready for the mission? Maybe train some with you?”

“Because you're thinkin' about goin' into this line of work?”

Clark said, “That's really not a bad idea. I can usually tell when somebody's cut out for it, and I'm thinking maybe Señorita Ramos is.”

Bill considered the suggestion for a moment, then shrugged and nodded.

“I don't reckon it can hurt anything,” he said.