Chapter Fifty
Phoenix
The truck and a sedan simultaneously hit the parking lot at top speed from the two opposite points of entry. Slamming on their brakes inches from my rental, flanking me and Lincoln, all four front doors opened at once.
Four Marshals fell out, weapons drawn.
I moved in front of Lincoln.
They yelled.
“U.S. Marshals!”
“Hands on your head!”
“Drop to your knees!”
“Step away from the kid!”
My gaze locked on the oldest Marshal, Weston Smith, his younger counterpoint, Eddie Gonzales, in my peripheral, I issued a death sentence in the form of an order. “Judas.”
“Copy,” he confirmed.
The two Marshals from the sedan, ones I recognized from the USMS database, spun toward the sound of Judas’s voice and made a rookie move. They fired.
Positioned behind the open front door of his vehicle, weapon drawn, suppressor on, the former SEAL assaulter didn’t hesitate. In rapid succession, Judas dropped one Marshal, then the other before aiming at Gonzales.
Weston glanced from his dead men to Gonzales.
In the split second his attention was diverted, I drew.
When the fucker looked back at me, I had him in my sights.
“One time courtesy, Weston. Drop your weapon, and you can continue breathing from behind bars.” He’d never see the inside of a jail cell.
I wasn’t that fucking magnanimous. Not after he’d threatened my son.
But for Lincoln’s sake, so he didn’t have to witness more bloodshed in the next fifteen seconds, I voiced the offer. “Decide. Now.”
“You’re worth more dead than alive. Maybe you should drop your weapon before I accidentally shoot your son.” The asshole smirked. “Hell, the Zamora Cartel might even pay me double.”
“Do you know the difference between ignorance and stupidity?” With a barely discernable nod toward Gonzales, I gave Judas the silent order. “The latter I have no tolerance for. The Zamora Cartel is dead.” There was no bounty on my head from them. Not anymore.
Weston’s tell was the fraction of a second he took to process the intel, realize he was a dead man, and extend his firing arm.
He pulled the trigger.
I’d already sent it.
With a bullet between his eyes, Weston dropped.
His shot hit the rear window of the SUV.
Judas took out Gonzales. I shoved a stunned Lincoln into the front passenger seat.
Then I scanned for witnesses and issued orders as I headed to the Marshal’s still-idling truck.
“Judas, sweep protocol. Move the sedan. Then clear your rental. One vehicle exfil. Double time.”
“Copy.” Jogging over, Judas handed me a pair of disposable gloves.
I quickly pulled them on, got in the truck and backed into a spot while Judas did the same with the sedan. Then I dropped the tailgate on the truck but left the tonneau cover closed. Judas popped the trunk on the sedan, and we quickly dragged bodies and weapons.
Less than two minutes later, with the gloves shoved in my pocket, I was behind the wheel of the rental, Judas was in the back, Lincon was shell-shocked, and we were pulling out of the restaurant’s parking lot.
No cops, no witnesses, no foot traffic. We weren’t that lucky. I glanced in the rearview mirror at Judas who was already on his cell. “I don’t see any heat or bystanders. We’re not this lucky.”
Judas looked up, met my gaze, then scanned the street before focusing back at his cell. “For the next ninety seconds, we are. Marshals temporarily suspended police scanners for the area, and we’re past lunch rush. Wiping the restaurant’s security feeds now, then traffic cams.”
“Copy.” I turned onto a backroad that’d take us to the private airstrip, then I paired my burner to the rental and made a call.
Cypher’s voice came through the SUV’s speakers. “Busy.”
“Need a sweep team, STAT.” I gave him the address as I glanced at Lincoln.
Sitting forward, staring straight ahead, my son’s arms were crossed.
“Two hours, Nix.” Typing filled the background. “Two fucking hours ago, I told you not to call in for a sweep team today. Servers are only just now at half capacity, and I have no firewall to speak of.”
I grabbed my son’s shoulder. “Priority red. Dial into the Paragon’s servers if you have to.
Two vehicles plus Judas’s rental, rear parking lot.
Four bodies. All U.S. Marshals.” I recited the plate numbers I’d memorized.
“Shots were fired. There’ll be heat all over this in minutes.
Who do we have in the area?” Lincoln didn’t look at me.
“You.”
“Cypher,” I warned.
“No one local, but….” Cypher’s typing stopped for a second, then resumed.
“I know a guy. Active duty. Breacher, Team 8. He’s between deployments and owes me a favor.
Waiting to hear—” A text alert sounded through the call.
“And he’s in. Oscar Mike in two. Then he’s six minutes from the location.
Caveat—he doesn’t sweep. He detonates. Three cars blowing is suspicious.
Whole property less so. One with a restaurant even better. ”
“Copy. Make it happen, but no innocent casualties. Then I need this rental handled after we get to the airstrip. Full sweep, Cypher.”
“Roger that.” Cypher hung up.
I gripped the back of Lincoln’s neck. “Hey. Look at me.”
My son’s green eyes that were almost exact replicas of mine met my gaze. But unlike me, his expression held fear. “Th-that was bad.”
I pulled over.
Then I gave Lincoln my full attention, but I also laid out the truth.
“Weston Smith and the other Marshals were bad men. Weston and Eddie Gonzales had a history of violating WITSEC’s system with a trail of over thirty victims. They also fired without cause today, and fired first. Technically, Judas and I acted in self-defense.
Most importantly, you did nothing wrong, and you’re safe.
We’re safe. Nothing’s going to happen to you.
I would never let that happen. Understand? ”
He stared at me.
“Judas,” I called back without taking my eyes off Lincoln. “How long have you known me?”
“As Bravo or Nix?”
“Both.”
“Eighteen years minus the gap when you were POTUS and SAC’s Tertia Optio.”
Lincoln’s expression bugged out as Judas casually dropped classified intel like it wasn’t a deliberate strategic move aimed at my son, my credibility, and the tension of the situation.
Ignoring Judas’s traitorous chess maneuver, I asked him one more question. “Have you ever known me to not keep my word?”
This time, he didn’t play interloper. “No.”
I gripped my son tighter. “I promise, you are safe.” Enunciating each of the last three words, I gave Lincoln the best I could without a history between us to back it up.
He whispered. “You killed them.”
Technically it was both me and Judas, but I owned it. “Yes, I did.”
My son’s voice dropped even lower. “You worked for the President?”
“I did, but that’s classified intel.” I glanced at Judas. “And the former SEAL in the back seat knows it. By the way, Lincoln, meet Judas. Judas, this is my son, Lincoln.”
Sucking in a deep breath in what I was learning was one of his tells to mentally right himself, Lincoln glanced back at Judas. “Thank you for your service.”
Judas immediately looked up from his cell and glanced at me.
“Don’t look at me,” I warned. “I didn’t thank you.” Judas had a circumspect attitude toward people and gratitude, but this was my son and a unique circumstance.
Judas focused on my son. “It was an honor to serve.”
Lincoln nodded in acknowledgment, and I pulled back onto the road.