Chapter 12
“What is happening?”his wife said, her voice strident as gunfire continued to pop outside Barlow Finch’s San Diego mansion. His personal security was up against a ruthless foe, and his family was in jeopardy, all because of him. The rush of panic made his heart pound, and he stood there. He’d made a terrible, terrible error in trusting Freddy. How could he have been so stupid to have risked everything? He looked around at the shocked and terrified faces of his children, their spouses, and his beautiful grandchildren—everything was lost. The panic climbed up his throat. The crushing defeat was more than he could bear. His aspirations and grasp for power, for the illusion of power, was nothing but an empty promise. He was a fool. He would take the responsibility for it, and he would make damn sure his family wouldn’t suffer any physical harm. He wouldn’t be able to stop the scandal, and he regretted every moment they would have to endure it.
He ushered everyone forward, prodding and shouting until they were inside his study. He rushed over to the bookcase, pressed a hidden button and the whole bookcase slid open to reveal his panic room. This was state-of-the-art. The doors were bullet-resistant with internal steel framing, weighing several hundred pounds. The simple control panel was impenetrable to both overriding or tampering. The floor was concrete, the insulation would drown out any of the sounds from his encounter with Freddy, and the cameras and monitors would let them know when it was safe to come out. It also had its own generator, so if they cut the power thinking they could flush them out, it wouldn’t work. Once inside, they would have all the communication they could need as the room was stocked with both a cell phone and a landline. It was also stocked with blankets, a first aid kit, and flashlights. They would be safe until the police arrived.
He froze when more gunfire swept back and forth outside then suddenly stopped. He could only hear the rush of the wind and the thunder of his heart in his ears. He couldn’t move. It was as if he were stuck in place, the dread so intense that it paralyzed him. A thousand ugly images jammed up in his head and, choking from the brutal thoughts, he was freed from that paralysis.
Striving for calm, he took her arm, the churning in his stomach making his hands clammy. “Maria, don’t argue with me,” he said gruffly, looking into his wife’s beautiful blue eyes for what was likely the last time. Had he ever noticed how blue they were? “All of you get into the safe room right now. I will deal with this.” Fear and desperation propelled him, and he punched in the code, his hand shaking. Once all but his wife was inside, he gathered her up in a rough embrace, catching the back of her head and holding her tight against him. Afraid, so afraid for her. “Forgive me if you can, Maria.”
“For what? What is happening? Please, tell me.”
He tried to answer, but he couldn’t. There was just too much emotion breaking loose—old fear, new fear, desperation. His confession would strip everything away. And he knew he couldn’t handle that from his wife. He wanted her to keep looking at him like she was. Once she knew what he had done, that would all change.He folded her into his arms and tucked his head against hers, one hand tangled in her hair. She hung onto him, her whole body shaking. He tightened his hold, and with his voice gruff with regret, said, “I’m deeply sorry.”
She sagged against him, her face pressing against his neck. He stroked her back, molding her closer, his touch firm and reassuring as his eyes filled.
She sobbed against his neck. “Barlow, please?—”
The front door of the mansion slammed open, and he was suddenly out of time. He shoved her hard into the room and closed the door of the safe room on their sad, terrified faces. Stepping back out into the study, he pushed the button that concealed the entrance. He walked to his desk and sat down. If he was going to confront Freddy with a weapon, he was going to do it from his seat of power.
As soon as he was seated, the door to his study burst open and Freddy stood there, some big-ass gun in her hand, blood on her flawlessly beautiful face, flanked by two thugs with cold, dead eyes.
He looked over her shoulder at one of the thugs, the one who had his head covered by a dark, tight cap. “Search the house.”
They left her alone with him, and he palmed the small twenty-two caliber he’d purchased after he’d gotten into bed with these people. It wasn’t going to save him, but he was all right with that. If he could take her out, that would be the head of the snake and maybe protect his family.
She entered the room, his heart still slamming in his chest, the need to panic nearly overwhelming his common sense. “Where is your lovely family, Barlow?”
He didn’t move a muscle, fearing he would give away the location of the safe room. His heart accelerated, and he was shocked that his voice came out calm and in charge. “They are safe and out of your reach, Freddy. You don’t need them. You just need me.”
She gave him a sad, condescending expression as if she were addressing a child, shaking her head. “Barlow, I work for an exacting and savage man. You knew that when we got into bed together,” she said with a soft smile as if there were something between them, but he didn’t miss the double entendre. “Tell me where they are and this will be much easier on you,” she said low and with menace. She stared at him, her jaw twitching, her anger making her eyes blaze.
“You think so?” he said, knowing that any physical pain was going to be short-lived compared to the torture of seeing his family murdered. Shame washed through him, and Barlow felt the heat of it all the way to his scalp. He had humiliated himself and his family in the worst possible way, and it was a guilt he would carry until the moment he died. He could feel death’s breath on the back of his neck.
The two thugs came back. The one with the cap walked up to her and said, “The place is empty.”
She turned back to him, her dark eyes ruthless and frustrated. She gave him a bitter smile filled with disgust. “You can’t hide them from me. Where are they?”
He clenched his jaw and lifted his chin. Pointing the gun under the table, he set his finger against the trigger, collecting what courage he had.
“It won’t matter if I kill them today. There is nowhere they can hide from us. They will be joining you shortly. We don’t leave any loose ends,” she said without inflection in her voice, but the spoken threat tied him up in knots. He could only hope that once law enforcement got involved, they would protect his family. But he was determined Freddy wouldn’t survive. He was counting on it.
A new wave of desperation filled him. “I’m begging you, Freddy. Please leave them alone.” His heart raced, his voice breaking. “They know nothing about any of my dealings with you. Please.”
She shrugged, a humorless smile lifting one corner of her mouth. “That’s touching, but I warned you what would happen if this went bad. Everyone involved dies. That’s the deal. You took it. Now, tell me where they are.”
“No!” he shouted, lifting the gun and pointing it at her.
The thug reacted. “Gun!” He pushed her out of the way just as his pistol discharged. The bullet struck the man, propelling him backward until he fell onto his back on the rug.
Before Barlow could react and change his aim, Freddy brought up her gun. The round hit him in the upper chest, sending him backward off his chair.
He couldn’t breathe around the excruciating pain, knowing he deserved it. Gasping for air, he tasted blood at the back of his throat.
He turned his head, searching for the gun, but it had fallen too far from him, and he couldn’t retrieve it. Then Freddy’s face was near his own, an angry set to her jaw, her profile taut and unrelenting. He stared off across the posh rug as his vision started to gray.
“For that, I’m going to make them suffer for a long time, you stupid bastard.”
He had failed them again, and it was too late, too late.
He never saw the bullet coming before it impacted his head.
When they reachedBarlow Finch’s estate, the gates were open.
“Body!” Austin called from the left as they fanned out.
“There will likely be more,” Derrick said grimly.
They found several more men down in the front of the mansion, the front door partially ajar.
“Spread out,” Kai said, her voice strained. “They may still be here.” With her gun poised in the traditional grip of one hand wrapped around the guard with the index finger alongside the trigger guard, and the supporting hand stabilizing the weapon, she added, “Austin and Amber, take the back.”
They entered the house, and Davis’s focus narrowed down to scanning for intruders. Derrick broke off and headed upstairs, while Jason went left. Kai took the main living area, and Davis headed toward the back of the house. He searched the rooms until he came to Finch’s study. He nudged the door aside to find a huge stain on the rug. With that amount of blood, someone had died there. Finch?
He circumvented the room and discovered Finch lying on his back, two slugs in him. As his colleagues started to call out, “Clear,” Davis stared at the small gun lying next to Finch. He had tried to defend himself.
In the distance, he heard sirens.
“Davis?” Kai called out.
“In here,” he responded. When she came around the desk, he indicated the corpse. “It’s Finch.”
She nodded, then whirled as the bookcase slid open and a man appeared. “Federal agents!” Her gun automatically whipped up in a lightning-quick move. “Hands!” she ordered, and he raised them.
Davis rose to back her up, but it was clear this man wasn’t a threat. “What is going on?” he demanded, unable to see behind the bulk of the desk.
“Who are you?” Kai asked, not relenting on her stance or her grip on the gun.
“Drake Finch. My dad shut us in the panic room without an explanation. Where is he?”
Kai lowered her gun, then holstered it. The four agents appeared at the door, Austin eying the guy in the open area between the bookcases. “The rest of the house is clear. It’s empty.”
Davis came out from behind the desk. “Drake, your dad is dead,” he said, delivering the news.
Drake blinked several times, his face crumpling. “What? This makes no sense. Why?”
A woman came around behind Drake. “Where is my husband?”
“Ma’am, it’s best if?—”
She ignored him and rushed to the desk. When she saw Finch, she clutched her stomach and screamed. “Barlow! No!” She tried to push in between Davis and Kai, but he held her back.
“Ma’am, this is a crime scene.”
“How did this happen? What is going on?” she pleaded as she clawed at his arm, sobbing uncontrollably.
“Mom,” Drake said, coming over, blinking rapidly, his face paling when he saw his dad. Swallowing hard, he pulled her away from the desk toward the door. “Come on.” He led her over to a wingback chair and helped her to sit down. She rocked back and forth as she cried. Davis knew this was only the beginning for them. Once everything came out, they would be pariahs in the community and across the country.
He crossed to the bookcase and saw the door to the panic room ajar. He entered, discovering the rest of Finch’s family. They identified themselves as his daughter, Michelle, her husband, his daughter-in-law, the wife of Drake, his other son, Prescott, and his wife. Then there were four grandchildren. He could only be grateful that the desk obscured the view of their grandfather. He ushered them all out of the study, Kai coaxing Drake and Mrs. Finch out as well.
By then, police cars were pulling up outside, and the sound of running feet echoed in the foyer. Davis already had his badge out, his hands up. As the police officers thundered into the living room, bristling with weapons, Davis shouted firmly, “Federal agents.”
For the next twenty minutes, more police arrived. Ambulances and a fire truck had responded to the calls from the uniforms who had arrived at the scene after Mrs. Finch called the cops from the landline phone in the panic room.
After what had happened in Ecuador, he was taking no chances. Everyone was going to Pendleton until they sorted out all the information they could glean from them through interviews. They would be much safer on the base than if they were outside of it.
He swallowed hard at the line of bodies on the driveway, the hapless security who had been gunned down by who he suspected was the armed wing of the yet unnamed cartel, the Los Esmeraldas. The memory of Roberto’s children haunted him, sending heat into his gut, twisting it with the need for justice, and he was determined nothing was going to happen to the rest of the Finches, especially those four innocent grandchildren.
As they were loading the family into a van, Jason nudged him. “Looks like someone’s in a hurry.” A dark SUV barreled down the slate driveway. A red light pulsed from the dash and the vehicle maneuvered around the other cars there.
The SUV stopped, the light still flashing, and from the passenger side, US Attorney Leigh Waterford slipped out. The driver, tall and broad through the shoulders, stood by the front of the vehicle, dressed in a dark suit that undoubtedly hid a shoulder holster and gun on a very ripped body, his head on a swivel. The man with golden, wheat-colored hair had that special ops look about him…Delta, SEAL, Ranger, one of those outfits no doubt. The Oakley sunglasses may have pegged him as a SEAL. His eagle gaze shot to the woman striding toward them. He went to step forward when the police blocked her way.
She was wearing a weapon, he realized. That was a new one. When did lawyers start packing heat? She spoke to one officer, walked to the man in charge, then flashed her ID. The man reared back a bit, then took it, looking closely. When he returned it, she looked over the crowd and then made a beeline to him.
“Counselor,” Davis said by way of greeting. The woman was a barracuda, and she had been breathing down their necks ever since the task force deaths.
“Special Agent Nishida,” she said, walking past the rest of the police without sparing them a glance. Her long, dark hair was swept back with a clip, and she wore a simple gray jacket and skirt, those legs of hers in heels twisted with muscle, and every man there turned to watch her. “Looks like we have another Los Esmeraldas mess. What happened here?”
“I’d say the gang is clearing up loose ends,” he responded. “They murdered Senator Finch, and I have no doubt they would have slaughtered his family if they hadn’t been protected in a panic room.”
Her mouth tightened, those intense blue eyes narrowing. “Any information regarding what cartel we’re dealing with?”
“No. The family is quite shaken up, and after Finch’s death they may be too scared to talk or simply know nothing at all.”
“It’s hard to believe his sons were involved in the daily running of the wholesaler and they knew nothing about their father’s involvement with drug smuggling.”
“That hasn’t been established yet, Ms. Waterford. We’re still looking into the senator’s background. Once we have any information, we’ll let you know.”
“I think not. I will be involved in the interrogation.”
“Interview,” he said firmly. “We don’t have anything to hold the adult children on.”
“Whatever. We’re going to get as much as we can out of them.”
“Ms. Waterford,” Kai said, walking up to them. Leigh’s eyes flashed. She was wary of Kai, and it was the first time he’d ever seen the US attorney back down. He was now thinking it was out of respect…when two alpha she-wolves met, it would be a careful negotiation. “I hope we don’t have to have words again about how you treat my people.” Kai had gotten an earful when she’d finally gotten through, but she’d had some choice words for Amber who had answered the phone.
“No, we’re good. Aren’t we, Davis?”
He smiled wide. “Oh, we’re good, Leigh.”
His use of her first name made her smile back, albeit not with warmth. This was a tough cookie and wouldn’t crack easily.
He turned to Kai who had a suspicious look in her eyes. “She’s going to accompany us back to Pendleton for the interviews,” Davis said.
“Is she?” Kai said. “As long as she understands I’m still running this show.”
Leigh inclined her head and nodded, effectively showing Kai her throat in surrender. “For the time being,” she murmured. Leigh stared for a long moment and Davis could almost see the gears working as she weighed her options. Let out some rope and see if Kai hanged herself or took over and possibly F’d up the investigation. “As I said before, I hope you understood, finding out who ordered these hits is my only objective. We’ve lost good, strong people. If I don’t see some progress, I will be pulling my own strings, and I have some really pissed-off strings to pull.”
Back at Pendleton, they ushered the family members into the conference room to wait for their interviews. Kai was giving the orders. “Austin, I want you to scrub social media on the senator and his family, look for anything strange or compelling.” She turned to Jason. “I want you to work on the text and find out what you can on those numbers.” Both men nodded and went to their respective desks.
Just then there was a commotion at the elevator. An older woman got off with a man who was graying at the temples, and an agent stopped them. He recognized her immediately. Striding forward, Davis said, “Let her through.”
The agent nodded and got out of the way as the woman surged forward, an eager look on her face. “Hello, I received a message that you were looking for me. I’m Mayta’s mother, and this is my husband, Stephen Randolph.”
“I’m Special Agent Nishida. Mrs. Randolph?—”
“Please, call me Lena.” She had kind brown eyes and he wondered briefly if her daughter had inherited them. There was panic in them. “What has happened to my daughter?” she asked, her eyes searching his face, fear settling on her features. His heart went out to her. “She’s not answering her phone.”
“Could you please come with me,” Davis said, knowing the kind of news he had to tell her was best done in private. He glanced over at Kai, and she was watching him. She nodded to him, her eyes luminous. An unspoken harmony radiated between them, and that feeling of intimate companionship was so powerful it was almost as if they were physically bound together. Damn, he was so in love with her. She was acknowledging his thoughtfulness in taking over the death notification so she could be spared.
“You left so many messages…we were off the grid in Spain at a private villa,” Lena’s words were laced with anxiety and fear. “We need the break as Stephen is so in demand. He promised me after we were married that we would do this every year.”
That promise may have saved their lives.
Kai lookedup from Austin’s console as his fingers flew over the keys. He was searching through social media feeds featuring Barlow Finch. The screen rolled with data. Her mouth thinned when she saw Mayta’s mother. “Keep working,” she said, leaving Austin to do his genius best. She didn’t want him to have to take all the burden. She could be present, but as it was, she made it to the interview room just after Davis delivered the terrible news.
Mayta’s mom was holding onto her husband, sobbing out her pain, and Kai knew all about that kind of pain. She gritted her teeth, working at keeping her own grief from swamping her.
Lena’s voice was racked with sobs in between her words. “Damn Eduardo. He was always making the mistake of group texting us when he meant to text someone else. It was a running joke.” She stopped talking, dabbing at her eyes. “He died for his stupid folly. He got our daughter killed. I’ll never forgive him for that.” Her husband rubbed her back. “Oh, dios mio, they must have been looking for us.” She looked at Davis and he nodded solemnly.
“They were. It might be best if you stay on base until we sort everything out.”
“Where is my baby?” Lena asked.
Kai slipped out of the interview room, not waiting for Davis’s answer, unable to handle Lena’s pain on top of her own. She understood the woman would never be the same. Young or old. It didn’t matter. The loss of a child was just as devastating.
She stopped at the coffee station and poured herself a cup, then poured another one.
She came back out into the office area and walked toward Leigh’s detail. She handed him the cup.
“Thank you,” he said, his voice deep and mellifluous. Without the sunglasses, his blue eyes stood out in his gorgeous tan face. She had no doubt he was special ops.
“You’re welcome, Mr.—”
“Hazard.”
“Mr. Hazard.” No surprise there weren’t any first names. “I hope you’re wearing Teflon under that suit. Leigh shoots from the hip.”
“No, just Hazard, ma’am” he said with a chuckle as he corrected her. “She is a pistol.”
Austin looked up eagerly from his monitor, gesturing her over. She pushed back all her emotions, knowing that they were close to getting the information they needed to wrap up this grueling, brutal case.
She nodded to him as he raised his cup in thanks, and she walked briskly over to Austin. “What do you have?”
“This woman.” Austin scooted his chair so Kai could get a good look. “She crops up in dozens of photos involving the senator.”
“Who is she?”
“Fernanda Delgato.”
“Record?”
“None, but there’s speculation from the San Diego gang squad that she’s involved in gang activity. They haven’t been able to prove it. She goes by Freddy, and they think she’s getting inside information, but again don’t have any idea who the dirty cop is.” He pulled up a video feed. “There were a lot of stills from a fundraiser last week. I looked up the venue and got this off their security feed.” He pointed to the screen, then pressed play. Fernanda was talking to Finch, and he appeared very angry. “Looks like they might have had a falling out. It was clear they were arguing.”
“Probably what got him killed. Cartels don’t play around and don’t care about anything but their product. He served his purpose and now that we were digging deeper, they panicked and decided to burn everything.”
“Yeah, that’s what it looks like.”
“What is her address?”
Austin rattled it off and Kai looked at Amber. “You’re with me.”
Angel Alzate walkedtoward the bridge of his yacht. The engines rumbled under his boots as he stepped inside. “How much longer to San Diego?”
“An hour, jefe.”
Angel nodded, then left the bridge. One of his men came up to him with a satellite phone.
“Delgato, jefe.”
Angel waved him away. He didn’t want to speak to her, not now, but she was waiting. Impatiently, he knew. He went to the stern, sat down in one of the comfy deck chairs, and accepted the drink his waiter handed him—top-shelf tequila with a twist of lime. Then he took the satellite phone.
“Speak,” he said.
“Everything is on track, jefe.”
“Our loose ends?”
“There was a problem there?—”
He sighed heavily. “Freddy?—”
“I’ll work it until I achieve your required outcome,” she said in a heated rush. She was scared. Well as much as a hard-assed bitch like Freddy could be scared.
“Everything is going as planned, and we’ll store?—”
“Don’t tell me the details right now. See to the shipment.” It was everything to him. He’d taken over Nacho’s routes, buildings, and production. His yacht was damn sweet. “You’d better. If my shipment is compromised, I will kill you with my own hands. Do you understand?”
“Yes, yes, of course. I understand,” she said, her voice strained.
He smiled, slow and thin. He wasn’t yet strong enough to deal with law enforcement, but he was determined not to go out like his predecessor with the ridiculous name. His was anything but—Angel of Death Alzate, a name that would strike fear into the hearts of anyone who got in his way. The US government could kiss his Latino ass, and they would never find him. Colombia was a big, inhospitable, and hostile country. If they wanted a war, they were going to get one.
And he intended to win.