Chapter 5
TAKING TWO of the black SUVs they’d liberated from Black Root during the team’s visit to Louisiana—complete with forged license plates and altered VINs—the Wolves drove straight to Gallup with a detour into Albuquerque to pick up Harjo at the airport. As the sun set behind them, they watched the gas station garage across the highway. Sergeant Carter had appeared a few times and the place looked like business as usual, but they weren’t taking any chances. Traffic remained steady on the I-40 Business loop.
“Cody wants a rifle for Christmas.” Sean, in the driver’s seat, stared out the windshield.
“A real one?” Danny leaned forward from the back seat.
“Yeah. I tried to talk him into a pellet gun. Didn’t work.”
“Sorta makes me glad I have a girl. Mac? What about Liam?”
Mac, riding shotgun, glanced at the other men. “We gave him a little four-ten shotgun when he was nine. But we taught him about firearms almost from the time he was big enough to figure them out.”
Sean pursed his lips, eyes narrowed in thought. “Yeah. Considering our line of work, that makes sense. Less chance of accidents.”
“And less chance of one of the kids being a victim.” Harjo spoke the thought they all shared.
Blowing out a slow breath, Sean forced his fingers to loosen their grip on the steering wheel. “Having kids is…complicated.”
Mac’s dry laughter echoed hollowly. “That’s an understatement. Christmas has never been a thing with Liam. Until now.”
Harjo reached over the seat and squeezed his shoulder. “He’s been through a lot, Mac. I suspect this is one way he’s coping with it.”
“Yeah. Probably.” Mac rolled his head to ease the tension in his neck.
“Annie and Cody are big into Christmas,” Sean added. “I was going to take him to cut down a tree to decorate.”
“Lightfoot and Liz talked about doing that when they lived in the mountains.” Harjo shifted his gaze to locate the other SUV. “It’s weird that most of us don’t know much about making Christmas…well…Christmas.”
Sean chuckled. “Luckily, some of us were smart enough to marry women who have it down to a science.” He cut his eyes toward Mac. “Not that Hannah doesn’t have other talents.”
“It’s damn sure not cooking. If she’s doing the turkey, we better have a Plan B.” Mac’s wry observation eased the tension in the vehicle.
A quick flash from across the highway drew their attention. The station’s outside lights flickered on and they could see shadowy figures moving around inside. A car pulled up to the pumps. A man in a rumpled suit got out, pumped his gas, and went inside. A few minutes later, he returned to his car, a large Styrofoam cup in his hand. The car headed north on the highway, crossed under I-40 and disappeared.
Rudy appeared from the corner of the building and went inside. Carter, and presumably anyone else watching for them, wouldn’t recognize him as being one of the group. Five minutes later, he exited the door and walked to the opposite corner. He leaned against the adobe wall, lit a cigar, and waited. Two minutes later, Carter came out and joined him. After some animated conversation, Rudy tossed his cigar to the concrete and ground it out beneath his boot heel.
The four men in the SUV let out a collective breath. So far, so good. Carter went back inside and Rudy ducked around the corner. A few moments later, the other SUV appeared and pulled out on the road, headed south on Munoz. Sean waited until Carter came out, climbed into a battered old Jeep Wrangler, and followed the other vehicle. Exactly two minutes later, Sean pulled onto the road and trailed after.
Mac keyed up his radio. “No tail, Bravo.”
“Roger that.” Nate’s voice ghosted through the radio. “Target has passed us.” The radio crackled with static and then, “Turning left on Old Zuni Road.”
The loose convoy traveled for several minutes, twisting and turning toward downtown Gallup. They passed Sacred Heart Cathedral and meandered until the Jeep they followed pulled into Veteran’s Park. All three vehicles pulled into an empty parking lot and the men exited. Everyone but Mac and Carter spread out to form a rough perimeter.
“Sergeant Major.” Carter didn’t quite salute even though his hand wandered toward his forehead. “Thanks for comin’. Tiva is half out of her mind with worry.”
In short, succinct sentences, Carter briefed Mac on the situation. Honi Montoya had been snatched from her bed in the middle of the night. Her husband, David—a Border Patrol agent—remained tight-lipped about the situation. To complicate matters, the girl was almost nine months pregnant.
“As near as me n’Tiva can figure out, the Los Malvados cartel grabbed her as payback. David was undercover for a while. Infiltrated the bastards and arrested a couple of their bigwigs. Pissed ’em off big time.”
“Any clue where they might have taken her?”
Carter pulled out a well-worn map and stabbed a spot in the middle of nowhere down at the bottom of New Mexico. “There’s a little town there. San Rios. Ain’t much but a spit stain in the desert. According to my sources, the Los Malvados use it as their drug drop. There’re a few folks still livin’ there. The good ’uns left, if they could. Those still there either work for the cartel or couldn’t get out.”
The old sergeant looked up and laughed. “Damn. I’ve missed that look.” Every one of the Wolves had almost the exact same expression—eyes narrowed, a corner of their mouth pulled up into a snarl—as growls rumbled in their chests.
“I hate fuckers who go after the innocent.” Sean glanced into the back of the SUV he’d driven from Louisiana. “I’ve got some shit that’ll light a fire under their asses. I might do some shoppin’ before we head south, though.”
Carter grinned and winked. “I think I have what you need, Donaldson, back at my garage. I been savin’ it fer a special occasion. When do we head out?”
Silence descended on the group and their expressions sobered. Mac clapped a hand on the older man’s shoulder. “First Sergeant, I need you to stay here.”
“I can still fight, Sergeant Major. I may have snow on top, but I’ve still got a fire in my belly.”
“I don’t doubt that for a second, Carter. But I need somebody we can trust to run backstop for us. And to gather the cavalry and lead the charge if we need it.”
Opening his mouth to protest, Carter remained silent for a long moment then closed it. “Un’erstood, Sergeant Major.”
His crestfallen look tugged at Mac’s conscience. “I’m not kidding, First Sergeant. We’re goin’ up against a major drug cartel. I need somebody I can trust to come rescue us if the mission goes south.” While he was trying to buck up the old man, he was also serious—only he knew there would be no rescue if they fucked up. If they screwed the pooch, Hannah would never forgive him and facing her wrath was something no sane man, much less her mate, ever wanted to confront.
“Do you want to deal with my wife if we mess up?”
Carter’s eyes widened. “The major? Oh, hell no, Sergeant Major. That’s the scariest damn bitch I ever met. No offense meant.”
“No offense taken, First Sergeant Carter. She is.”