Chapter One #2
This wasn’t a fishing expedition. Without a doubt, the cartel knew she was an informant.
Only one way they could’ve found out. Kirk’s suspicion that a cartel spy had infiltrated his joint task force for Operation Big Sky Guardian was correct.
But he’d sworn to keep her identity a secret and her assignment off the books. To ensure her safety.
“What were you saying, I’ve got it all wrong?” Hector’s grin spread into a vile smile full of evil. “Don’t worry, I won’t be the one to kill you. Someone special is flying in to deal with you personally. La Parca.”
Christina’s legs turned to water and her knees nearly buckled.
“He’s taking care of business in Wyoming but lands in—” Hector glanced at his watch “—thirty-two hours.”
Not even Hector wanted to say the monster’s name.
Things kept getting worse.
Hector redirected the Beretta at Kirk. “Admit she’s been an informant from the beginning, and I’ll make it quick. Otherwise, I’ll give you a lot to regret as you die slowly.”
The thug yanked Kirk’s gag down.
Hector took out his phone, tapped the record icon and held it up. “Go on.”
Kirk stretched his jaw and spit on the ground. “I’m already filled with regrets. For starters, wish I could go home to the Garden City and fish for little bull trout.”
The words struck a chord of recognition in her head.
Was it a message? Was Kirk trying to tell her something?
“Your fishing days are done, old man,” Hector said. “What’s it going to be? Quick and painless? Or do I get to have some fun?”
“Not a hard choice to make.” Heaving a ragged breath, Kirk shook his head. “Who wants to suffer in the end, huh?”
Christina’s gut clenched. The cartel already knew, but she’d never thought Kirk would give her up to spare himself pain, much less give a recorded admission.
“Can I get a smoke first?” Kirk asked.
Hector nodded.
His thug moved around, facing the special agent, put a cigarette in his mouth and lit it.
“Although I’m disappointed,” Hector said, “I won’t get to have any fun, you’ve made the right choice. La Parca wants to hear about her duplicity straight from you. Start talking.”
If anyone knew how deadly the Reaper was and what he’d do to her, it was Kirk Kehoe.
It was all surreal. She’d really fallen down the rabbit hole and was lost in the darkness.
Kirk blew out smoke. “Well,” he said, speaking around the cigarette in between his lips, “guess I never should’ve broken Alice’s first commandment.”
The number-one rule.
Trust no one.
It was a coded message. For her.
“Still.” Kirk drew another drag on the cigarette and exhaled the smoke. “Sometimes you’ve got to turn to someone. No other choice.”
“What are you blabbering about?” Hector snapped.
Kirk shrugged. “Then there’s the tenth commandment.”
Always be ready to run. Fight your way out if necessary.
Christina slowly slipped her right hand into her purse, unzipped the hidden inner pocket and grasped a long, slender piece of cold, solid steel. With a tight grip on the expandable baton in one hand and the automatic knife in the other, she was ready to strike.
Every man in the cartel underestimated her. Because she was a woman. Because she had a pretty face. It was the reason Hector didn’t bother to search her, and even now, he didn’t have the gun pointed at her; it was trained on Kirk. Hector expected her to roll over and submit.
She was going to disappoint him.
Kirk lifted his head and looked right at her. “As long as Big Sky Guardian succeeds, I don’t mind dying. Or suffering. But I won’t be the one screaming.” Spitting out the cigarette, Kirk threw his head forward, slamming his skull into the face of the guy who was standing way too close.
Bone crunched. The guy howled in pain as he cupped his bleeding nose. Kirk stomped on his foot, kicked him in the knee and threw his shoulder into the guy, taking them both down to the ground.
At the same time, Christina drew the switchblade from her pocket, pressing the button and ejecting the blade with a crisp snick. Pulling the expandable baton from her purse, she flicked it out to its full length of twenty-six inches. But she wasn’t fast enough.
Hector pulled the trigger, shooting Kirk three times, also putting a bullet in his own guy, and then whirled in her direction.
Ready like a tightly coiled spring, she whipped the baton down across his wrist. Once.
Twice. The second blow jarred the Beretta loose and the gun fell from his hand.
Another quick strike to his head and she heard teeth crack as Hector stumbled backward.
She lunged, thrusting her knife into his thigh, twisted the blade and yanked it back out.
An agonizing shriek ripped from Hector’s mouth.
No time to revel in it. She bolted to the driver’s side of the van. The door was unlocked, key in the ignition. She threw the gear into Reverse and slammed her foot on the accelerator, speeding back through the tunnel.
The other guy climbed out from under Kirk’s body and got to his feet, holding his side like he’d been shot in the abdomen. Took aim and fired at her. The windshield shattered, spraying glass into the van.
Ducking behind the steering wheel, she didn’t ease off the gas pedal until she cleared the tunnel, making it outside. She killed the engine and snapped the key off in the ignition.
Christina jumped out and ran. Reaching Hector’s vehicle first, she stabbed two of his tires before hopping in her Ford Bronco. In the tunnel, Kirk had told her where to go, and she could only think of one person she hoped might be in the Garden City. Jackson Powell.
After Kirk first recruited her, he grilled her about her past associations. Friends. Enemies. Lovers—she’d only had one at the time, in high school. Jackson.
Then last week, Kirk had urged her to collect as much solid intel as she could ASAP, as though the clock was ticking, and not on their side.
He’d promised to get her out, but she hadn’t believed him.
Kirk had told her Jackson was a US marshal on his task force and would be a part of the extraction team.
She didn’t know if it was true, but dangling that carrot had gotten her to fall in line.
Christina started her SUV, gunned the engine and sped off.
How would she find Jackson? It wasn’t as if she had his address or phone number.