Wild Point (Tyson Wild Thriller #92)

Chapter 1

“Stop. Right there,” I said, pointing at the large display screen in the security office. “Who is she?”

The camera had captured an angle of the suspect entering Miguel Gomez’s room. She wore teal scrubs, and her raven hair tickled her mid-back. A surgical mask covered her face. From this angle, all we saw was her backside. Not a bad angle. She had a shapely figure, but she was a killer, no doubt.

Drexel scrubbed through the footage. The woman exited the patient’s room a few minutes later. She kept her head down. Her long hair obscured her face. Sunglasses covered her eyes. She hurried out of frame and disappeared.

The ID badge on her uniform was unreadable on camera. Maybe it could be enhanced. There was no doubt in my mind it was fake. No point in wasting time or resources.

The assailant had worn surgical gloves. There would be no fingerprints.

“Toxicology found rocuronium in Miguel’s system,” Sheriff Daniels said. “The assailant must have injected it into his IV. Gomez didn’t stand a chance.”

It was maddening. Miguel Gomez was our only link to Catalina Navarro.

Drexel pulled up other feeds, and we tried to track the movement of the Angel of Death. But she was keen to the cameras. She left the building, made her way across the parking lot, and disappeared.

Catalina was still in jail. Otherwise, she’d have been my prime suspect. Still, there was no doubt in my mind Catalina was pulling the strings. From her cell in the pod, she could run the cartel. The Navarro gang had long arms. Nobody was beyond their grasp.

I would come to know just how deadly their reach was.

Drexel exported the footage and sent download links to the sheriff. We thanked him for his cooperation, then stepped out of the security office and into the hallway.

“You know Catalina is going to walk,” Daniels said with a somber face. “Without Gomez, we’ve got nothing to connect her to the assassination attempt of Senator Bergen, and nothing to connect her to the jewelry heist.”

I gave a grim nod.

“I’ve got to pull you and that nitwit off this case.”

Frustration tensed my jaw. “You can’t do that.”

“You’ve got a clear conflict of interest.”

“No conflict. I want to see her go down as much as anyone else.”

“You slept with her, Wild,” he quipped.

I shrugged innocently. “That was before I knew she was a cartel boss.”

Daniels stifled an eye roll. “Stay away from her and this case. I don’t need the aggravation.”

“Who are you going to put on it?”

“I’ll think of somebody,” he said as he walked away.

My lips tightened. I didn’t like it, but it was a can of worms. One I didn’t need to open. It was probably best if I walked away and forgot all about Catalina. But she had a memorable quality.

I left the hospital and made my way back to the Avventura. When I pulled into the lot, two FBI agents hopped out of their black SUV and approached. Special Agents Jennings and Beckett both had smug grins on their faces.

This wasn’t my first encounter with them.

In their mid-30s, Jennings was taller with a flat top and light brown hair. He was more bulky than Beckett, who was a little shorter. Shorty had dark hair and an athletic physique.

“Well, looks like your friend isn’t so innocent after all,” Jennings said, rubbing it in.

I shot him an annoyed look.

“I’m not here to tell you I told you so, but…”

That’s exactly why they were here. They had wanted me to spy on Catalina.

I just gave him a look and continued toward the dock, not really in the mood to watch them gloat.

Jennings and Beckett followed.

“You blew an opportunity,” Jennings said.

“I stopped an assassination.”

“She’s going to get out.”

“I know.”

“If she reaches out, let us know. There may be an opportunity there.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “She’s not going to reach out, and there is no opportunity.”

“Don’t lose sight of the goal.”

“What goal is that?”

“Bringing down Diego Navarro and the cartel.”

“Then we’re in perfect alignment.”

“I hope so,” Jennings said.

He shared a look with Beckett before turning around and walking back toward their SUV.

I crossed the passerelle to the aft deck of the superyacht. Buddy waited eagerly for me at the salon door. I slid it open, knelt down, and petted the little Jack Russell.

Ginger and Cinnamon had helped Jack get situated after his discharge from the hospital. They’d been nursing him back to health. He sat on the sofa in the salon with the girls, his arm in a sling. He was on a 6-8 week recovery program.

“How are you feeling?” I asked.

“Great.”

Still dosed up on pain meds, the full extent hadn’t quite hit him yet. The vest had kept him alive, but the force of impact fractured his collarbone and deflected the slug into the soft tissue of his shoulder. He’d be just fine, but it would take time.

I caught him up to speed on the situation with Miguel Gomez. Jack certainly wasn’t in any condition to take on the cartel. But I knew that wouldn’t stop him from trying. We were both stubborn like that.

My phone buzzed with a call from the sheriff. “I need you to look into something.”

“What is it?”