Out of the Shadows (Falcon) (15 page)

“Remember, you gave your word,
” Brody said.

“I will let you and your friend out of the comp
ound. Then all bets are off.”

Brody’s leg pressed against her rear, nudging her closer to her own death.
Kate fought the urge to hyperventilate. At his sudden release, she stumbled forward. When she and A.J. passed, he smiled weakly. “I’ll be back.”

While Brody took A.J., she stiffly stepped on the porch. Without looking back, she entered the house and waited for the undisputable end.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Surprised that the guard on top of the wall hadn’t opened fire, Brody quickly pushed A.J. to the waiting vehicle and took off. With the 50mm pointed at Chavez’s men, he seated his friend in the backseat and told his men to return to the village.

Not wanting to hang around for a gun fight, Brody
pushed the Jeep’s accelerator, and they sped off. When they came to a halt, Brody jumped out to see about A.J.

Refusi
ng help, A.J. got out of the vehicle and followed Brody into the nearby house. Bruises and abrasions covered his unshaven jaw, and he needed a haircut. His right arm hung limp, probably due to a shoulder injury. Brody hoped the damage wasn’t permanent.

Several p
eople followed behind him and crowded into the hut where Alberto and Katarina lived. The bed, a tattered pallet, lay spread out in the back of the house where the shadows kept the heat at bay. After setting A.J. on the bed, he tipped a cup of water to his friend’s mouth.

“I’m not completely helpless,
” A.J. said, taking the cup from Brody’s hand. Then he drank greedily until his thirst was quenched and slumped back on the sweat stained pillow. “You have to go...”

“I know. I’m going back for her just as soon as you get settled.”

“Go now. He’ll kill her.”

“Jake is
due soon. If we’re not back, leave without us.”

A.J. let out a d
eep sigh as Tony looked at Manuel. “Take him to your village,”

Brody checked his bag and made sure the villagers were well armed. He had men set up around the perimeter should Chavez decid
e to send his army of killers.

He
left in a cloud of dust as he headed back to La Hacienda. He drove several miles and then pulled over near a shrub, where he slammed the vehicle in park. In a position where he could see the compound with his field glasses, Brody looked across the emptiness.

The sun had barely tipped toward the western horizon when Brody
sprawled out on his stomach to watch and wait.

With the gates closed
, there was very little he could make out. Brody counted on it not taking long for Chavez to send one of his men to bring him in.

Just as he re
ached for the canteen, a man walked up behind him.
Bring it on
. Brody closed his eyes and remained still. Something hard slapped against the side of his head, and he tumbled into a dark void.

Brody came
to with his right cheek resting on the cool tile floor of the La Hacienda. Chavez leered down at him with his noxious dark eyes. Not liking the position, Brody rolled over and saw Kate crumpled on the floor three feet away. The gash on her lip bled. Brody’s eyes locked on the ring on Chavez’s finger. Son of a bitch. This fucker dies.

In less than a minute he
gauged sight lines, assessed escape routes, and memorized everything in the room. Five armed men including Chavez. Kate, a pair of leather couches, a large square coffee table, platinum TV above a natural stone fireplace. Big and spacious with a solid glass wall overlooking the east side of the house. Outside he saw a pool surrounded by palm trees and tiki huts.

Brody dragged a lung full
of air, tensed his hamstring, and gluts. His right hand flexed, and the air swishing in and out as he grew steady and focused. Eyes narrowed and shoulders taut, Brody shot up off the floor and slammed his fist against Chavez’s jaw. The strike felled him like a logged tree.

The target of his attack lay spread-eagled across the coffee table. Brody kicked the man behind him in the right kneecap. A hard snap echoed through the room
. The man went down with a shriek. Brody struck out and grabbed the taller guy with a gun. He squeezed the weapon between his bicep and the side of his body and then yanked if from Chavez’s henchman and turned it on the other men.

“Look out!” Kate screamed.

Chavez leaped at him with both fists flying. The gun slid from Brody’s hand, and the other men rushed to their boss’s aid.

Chavez
jabbed Brody’s stomach, slammed his fist into his face and kicked him to the ground. Pain swam through Brody’s body at an alarming rate. He refused to allow the effects to deflect his judgment.

Back on his feet, his survival skills kicked in.
Brody swung at Chavez, landing a solid punch to the chin. Two men behind Brody grabbed him while another one tied a rope around Brody’s neck. Chavez grabbed the cord and pulled it tight.

Brody strugg
led to breathe. With his hands grasped by Chavez’s men, his options were running out. His eyes hurt, and his face grew taut from lack of oxygen. Brody’s body shook uncontrollably, and he twisted as hard as he could to get free. Darkness closed in on both sides.

With only his feet to protect himself, Brody
stepped toward the enemy, brought up his right leg and struck out. He slammed his booted foot into Chavez’s groin. The rope loosened as Chavez flew backwards, dropped to the floor, and rolled into a ball, his hands clutching his crotch.

The two men holding Brody upright released him and he allowed his body to go completely limp as he slumped to the floor. Gasping f
or air, he managed to get to his knees.

“Stay down,” Chavez ordered, holding a gun to his head. “I’ll kill you both.”

“You will anyway. You’re a fucking coward. Only a weak son of a bitch hurts a woman.”

“Shut up. I have sent men to destroy the village where you took your friend.”

“Fuck you.”

Kate stood
in the middle of the large room. One of the drug lord’s men held a knife at her throat.

Brody stood
, and Chavez stepped back. Blood dripped off his chin and his hand trembled. There was something Brody hadn’t seen before. Fear in the killer’s eyes. Panic rolled off Chavez like lava from a spewing volcano.

A shudder of fury drove Brody forward. On the balls of his feet, he dropped his right shoulder then came up with the heel of his hand beneath Chavez’s chin. His head flew back. Brody spun, dropped low and kicked the man attacking from behind in the chest with the heel of his boot. The man crumpled. A quick strike from the edge of Brody’s right palm
to the third guy’s neck sent the man to the floor unconscious.

Only the man holding the knife to Kate’s throat stood. Brody faced
him unafraid. Adrenalin pulsed through his veins faster than an illegal drug. It appeared he was surprised to find himself the last man standing.

“I’ll kill her,” he said
in a shaking voice.

With ten feet between them, Brody bunched his hamstrings, braced his back
, and ran, full out, toward the man. Shocked, the guy loosened his hold on Kate just as she stepped aside, and Brody jumped up and drop kicked him in the face.

Brody fell
on his left shoulder, jumped up, grabbed Kate, and together they dove through the window. They rolled off the porch and hit the ground running. They found the hole still in the south side of the compound and escaped.  

They managed to make it to the Jeep
with bullets flying everywhere. Brody took out his weapons, and as the men poured out, picked off two and Kate got one. Chavez’s men came from every direction, so Brody threw two grenades into the La Hacienda then leaped into the vehicle.

***

Outside Washington, D.C.

Monique Sutherland drove her new BMW down the George Washington Memorial Parkway south toward the Ritz-Carlton Hotel on Tysons
Boulevard in McLean, Virginia. The eleven mile trip was one she made every Thursday. She and Ben Reed, Assistant Director of the CIA, had a standing appointment they never missed.

Moniqu
e couldn’t afford not to show. She needed Ben Reed and his support too much to be flippant. Besides, he was harmless. That made him easy to use and manipulate. He only wanted to fuck the brains out of a twenty-five year old once a week. She on the other hand, led him around by his dick.

After giving her keys to the valet
, she pressed her palm down the front of her Oscar de la Renta metallic jacquard dress and walked into the opulent entrance. She tossed back her dark hair, capturing looks from every man in the lobby. She headed directly toward the elevator, stepped inside, and pushed the second floor button.

Without as much as a hum
, the elevator glided upward and stopped just as gracefully. The doors silently slid open. She stepped out and went directly to the private cocktail lounge where Ben sat at their regular table in the back of the bar. She smiled and joined him.

The bar was elegant with a touch of the 50’s. Dark wood paneling
covered the walls. Deep plush carpet and posh upholstered chairs spoke of great wealth. The bar was private, for exclusive guests only.

In the corner a woman wearing a sexy
evening gown played the piano and sang jazz in a sultry voice that mingled with the bar’s classiness.

Ben
stood, leaned over and kissed her cheek before Monique sat, crossed her legs and put her clutch purse on the table. He’d already ordered her a Cosmo and she smiled before taking a delicate sip.

She hated the drink
but Ben thought all young women drank either cosmos or martinis. The imbecile had obviously watched too much
Sex in the City
because he didn’t have a clue what women her age wanted. What they didn’t want was a man twice their age drooling all over them.

“So how was the little fucker tonight,” Ben asked
, adjusting the lapels of his suit jacket. If jealousy crossed his mind, he hid it well. But what right did he have to display any emotions? He had a wife, two kids, and a mansion in the suburbs.

She leaned forward
, giving Ben a complimentary view of her cleavage. She forced a smile that might resemble plaster of paris. “I could refer to the vice president as the fastest man in D.C., but it wouldn’t be because he runs.”

Ben tugged on his expensive
tie and puffed out his barrel chest. A touch of arrogance brightened his face, implying she could never put him in that category.

Truth be told, neither were good in bed, and
that’s the way she preferred this whole trio thing. While sex might be an elixir for powerful men, it did little for her. When she wanted a good fuck, she knew where to go.

“Did he say anything?”

Monique pursed her lips and batted her eyelashes. “He just bitched about Davis. If the president knew the things Rafferty said about him, he’d kick his ass out.”

“On the hill, no one cares for
Davis. The man’s too damn honest to be a politician.”

“I don’t imagine the ‘good ole boys club’
likes the fact he’s black, either.”

“We don’t give a fuck what color he
is. We’re all here to make a buck. Davis thinks he’s here to serve the people. That’s dangerous.” Ben held up his glass and rattled the ice cubes. Seconds later another shot of Kentucky whiskey on the rocks was set in front of him and the empty glass removed.

Monique took a sip of her drink and placed it back on the table.
Calmly she folded her arms and leaned in. “So, what’s next?”

“We’ve got the Falcon agent secured. Raffer
ty has a shooter, and Scott Wheeler with the Secret Service knows his role.”

“Who’s
in charge of the president while he’s in El Paso? Do you have someone who can make it look good?”

“I’m workin
g on that. I tried to get Wheeler next to the president, but he needs to be further to the left so it’ll look like he took out the Falcon agent who shot the president.”

“Just make it look
good. If they suspect someone within is trying to assassinate the president, we all die.”

“Leave
the details to us. You just need to be pretty.”

Pretty and stupid. If the cocksucker only knew. Monique
smiled, wet her lips, and gave him her come-fuck-me look. “I’m very good at that, huh?”

“You’re the fucking hottest thing I’ve ever
stuck my dick in.”

She giggled
. “And once Ron and I are married and I’m first lady?”

“You won’t be in a class
by yourself, sweetheart. Most presidents’ wives put out in order to get their men elected. Remember a stiff cock has no conscience or memory.”

She laughed and
took his hand. The day she made first lady, Ben Reed would learn a few things. For one, he’d see how she’d used him and played him like a stolen credit card. She’d show his wrinkled ass. “Let’s go to the room so I can practice my skills.” She reached out and captured his lips. Her tongue slid in his mouth and she faked a moan. Lifting her head, she met his heated gaze. “Let’s go fuck, Mr. Assistant Director of the CIA.”