Surrender to Me (38 page)

“Insistent girl,” Hunter commented.

Logan shrugged. “Three of them now. All pain sluts.” He ran his hands across the top of his buzz cut. “It’s a game with them. They each want to be the one I finally sleep with.”

Hunter shook his head. Granted, with his own love life a wreck, he was the last one who should be offering advice, but he had to try to help his younger brother. “How long has it been?”

The question made Logan look away. “I don’t know. Maybe five years.”

A small eternity. Logan was too young and vital to be voluntarily going without. “Your palm chafed raw yet?”

Logan scowled and punched him in the shoulder. “Fuck off. I make sure they get what they need. Xander delivers the sex and aftercare.”

“Is sending in your clean-up man good enough for them? For you?” With a shake of his head, Hunter admonished, “Bro, you’re going to have to move past T—”

“
Don’t
say her name,” he snarled. “Don’t.”

Hunter held up his hands in a defensive gesture. “Fine. You try talking to her again?”

Longing and misery crossed his face. “She slammed the door in my face.”

His shrug told Hunter just how futile the whole mess felt. It was a feeling that Hunter feared he was going to know all too well if he lost Kata.

The Colonel sauntered into the room with a grimace. “Couldn’t help overhearing. Her prick of a stepfather still lives in the same house. Adam Sterling smiles at me when I jog the neighborhood, as if he enjoys reminding me that his little princess broke my son’s heart.”

Hunter wouldn’t be surprised. Logan growled something ugly and anatomically impossible.

Before Hunter could point that out, his phone rang. He glanced at the clock as he pried the phone off his belt. Who would be calling at eleven thirty?

Hunter looked at his display, his belly tightening as he pressed the button to talk. “Jack, talk to me.”

“I’ve finally got some information, and you’re not going to like it.”

He hadn’t liked anything about Kata’s would-be assassin since he’d popped up. The whole thing stank.

“Kata’s hired hit man was ID’d through fingerprint records earlier this evening. I just found out. His name is Manuel Silva. The name mean anything to you?”

“Nothing. You find something out?”

“Yeah, this is where it gets ugly. He’s a well-known hit man, originally from Bogotá.”

The words sucked the air from his lungs. “Colombia? You’re sure?”

“One hundred percent. I made some of my local friends let me see the records before the CIA stepped in. Apparently, he was a person of serious interest to them. I’m still trying to learn why. The INS deported him a few years ago. He’s done a lot of jobs for lowlifes in the drug trade. He was last seen slinking around New Orleans a few weeks ago. His services were
very
expensive, probably close to one hundred grand a whack.” Jack sounded grim, and Hunter’s blood ran cold. “Whoever wanted Kata iced went to a lot of trouble and expense. The question is, why?”

For the first time in his life, he felt almost numb with fear. “I don’t know.”

“Kata doesn’t know anyone from New Orleans who might want her dead?”

“She’s never mentioned it. I’ll ask.”

“Good. I’ll keep seeing what else I can find and call you with any new information.”

“Thanks, Jack.” Though the news was really shitty. “Keep me posted.”

“What is it, son?” the Colonel asked as soon as he ended the call.

Hunter drew in a deep breath. “The assassin, Silva, is from Colombia. Probably came from New Orleans. I can’t figure out the connection. Cortez Villarreal deals in dope, but how would a small-town street thug from Lafayette even know the kind of badass killer who’s a person of interest to the CIA?”

“If Villarreal didn’t put that contract out on Kata, any ideas who did?”

“None.” It wasn’t adding up, but he honestly had no other suspects.

“Just because the connection isn’t obvious does not mean it doesn’t exist,” Logan surmised. “For all we know, Silva and Villarreal are friends, family, or one owed the other a favor. Or maybe he was hired because he was out of left field.”

“How could Villarreal afford Silva? But you may be right; I shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. Maybe there
is
a simple connection; I’m just not seeing it.”

Maybe. Whatever the case, Cortez Villarreal was the only suspect he had. Hunter would have preferred to hit the ground, shake people up, ask questions, dig up answers. But he was running out of time. Logan rose from the table, searching for his shoes, reminding him that it was nearly midnight, the dawn of a new day. He had just under three days to put this danger to bed once and for all. Thoughts raced as he made plans, discarded them, fine-tuned others. He wasn’t sure which would suit best without more information, but he hated all of them.

Hunter rang Jack again. As soon as the bodyguard answered, he fired off questions. “Do you know where to find Cortez Villarreal?”

“Exactly? No, but rumor is that he’s in the area and been laying real low over the past few days. I’ve been keeping tabs in case we need to have a meaningful conversation with him.”

“I think it may be time. When you find him, let me know.”

“I’ll get on it and call you back.”

The Colonel leaned in his face. “What are you thinking, son?”

Hunter gripped the phone, tamping down rising panic for Kata’s safety. “It’s time for something drastic.”

SUNLIGHT streamed through the windows Friday morning when Hunter heard someone grip the doorknob. He came to, sat straight up, and reached for his SIG on the bedside table. When the door opened, his wife, hair tousled across heavy breasts barely covered by a thin white tank top and wearing black lacy pajama pants that clung to her hips, entered. Damn. Hunter was always ready for sex with her, but the sight of her made far more than his cock ache.

“Sorry if I woke you.”

He glanced at the clock. Nine a.m.? He never slept that late. Then again, he’d spent all night holding Kata close, fearing their days together were numbered. He hadn’t fallen asleep until after five. “I’m glad you did. I need to get up. Honey, does the name Manuel Silva mean anything to you?”

Her blank stare told him everything he needed to know. “Should it?”

“Do you know anyone from Colombia? Where is Villarreal from?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t exactly read his family tree when I was assigned to him.”

“Does anyone in New Orleans have a beef with you?”

She blinked, shrugged. “Not that I know of. I haven’t been there in a few years.”

At this point, Hunter had to assume there was some connection between Silva and Villarreal that he simply couldn’t see. He had nothing else.

“What’s this about?” She crossed her arms and stared expectantly.

“Maybe nothing. How’s your mom?”

Kata’s face closed up as she sat on the edge of the bed. Hunter tried not to be distracted by the fact that he could see her rosy areolas through the little white tank.

“That’s why I came to talk to you. I appreciate all the trouble you and your father have gone through for her, but she’s not comfortable here. This morning, your father insisted on cooking for her again, carrying her out to the porch for fresh air, assisting her from room to room. He’s been glued to her side, jumping up with a box of tissues or her cough medicine every time she sniffles.”

In other words, his father knew what to do, and even after having his heart ripped out, he still couldn’t manage to change. Then again, Hunter hadn’t done much better last night at giving his wife space.

He cleared his throat. “Kata, having someone take care of her is good for her recovery.”

“Not if she can’t
relax.
The Colonel is being . . . a general. She isn’t comfortable with him hovering. She wants to go to Mari’s house, so I talked to my sister—”

“No. No way in hell am I taking either of you back to Lafayette now.” This wasn’t a good time to be inflexible, but damn it, she had to see the problems with her plan. “What if whoever wants you dead tracks you or your mother down? What if Gordon coerces her back home? Carlotta needs to give it more time here. She’s uncomfortable because she’s not used to others caring for her. She’ll adjust.”

Kata shook her head. “I don’t think so. Believe me, someone trying to kill me scares me, too, but I can’t leave Mamá here to get worse.”

“Carlotta won’t get much rest with two rambunctious grandsons underfoot. I’ll bet that she ends up waiting on them.”

Kata bit her lip and paused. “I was very clear with Mari that she can’t be out of bed.”

“Mari will have her hands full with her job, her kids, and a husband who lacks discipline. Your mother will naturally want to help. She can’t afford to.”

“Your father is totally overwhelming her.”

“The Colonel is too . . . attentive. He knows that and will work on it. I’ll talk to him.”

“You?” she sputtered incredulously. “
You’re
going to talk to him about backing off? Um, Pot, meet Kettle.”

He bridged the space and grabbed her wrist, pulling her against him. “You’re not using your head, Kata. You want to make your mother happy, but think about what’s best for her. Do you want her returning to Gordon? Because if she’s at Mari’s, he’ll browbeat her into it. If she stays here, the Colonel won’t let that happen.”

“Because he’ll smother her even more. Mamá doesn’t want to be here.” Kata tried to pull away. “I saw your point, now you need to see mine.”

He couldn’t afford to. “I can’t risk taking you or your mother to Lafayette now, with a potential assassin on the loose. I’m sorry. We’re staying.”

Kata rose and grabbed her suitcase. “You always have to be in charge, don’t you? It’s not just a bedroom thing, so stop pretending it is. And while you’re at it, sign those damn divorce papers. Mari is tied up at work today, so I’m calling Ben. He’ll give us a ride home.”

With that, she slammed out the door. Hunter scrambled out of bed to find his pants. As he shoved his way into them, he heard the slam of the nearby bathroom door, heard the shower start. She was batshit crazy if she thought he was going to let her put a door between them so that she could fucking call Ben and leave.

But he also couldn’t mow down her free will, or he’d lose her.

Hunter cursed, wishing for a convenient terrorist to put his fists into. Fuck, he didn’t want to sign those papers. But while he was on active duty, Kata could proceed with the divorce without him—and he’d be powerless to stop her. Regardless of his dad’s words of wisdom, he wasn’t ready to stop fighting for Kata.

As Hunter reached for the bathroom door, the phone in his pocket rang. A glance at the display made him groan. “This better be fucking good, Andy.”

“Remember who you’re talking to, Raptor.”

Shit.
Andy Barnes was now his commanding officer, not just a buddy. He’d better suck it up. “Sorry, sir. What’s up?”

“Your leave has been cut short.”

“
What?
Twice in the same leave?” This was fucking unheard of unless it was a goddamn national emergency. “Is something happening?”

“The Sotillo organization is definitely gathering. The big arms-for-drugs sale that we anticipated earlier this week will go down Saturday night. We need you there.”

Hunter struggled to wrap his head around Andy’s words when he could still hear Kata threatening to call Ben in his head. “How? Víctor is dead. If you read my report, I received intel on my last trip that his brother, Adan, was killed, too. Who the hell would be organizing this?”

“Sotillo had underlings. I guess it’s one of them. Víctor’s death created a vacuum of power. Of course someone will want to step into it. We’re going to send a small four-man team in there—”

“Four men? If they’re going to conduct major business, both parties will come with a frigging army. Four men aren’t going to get the job done.”

“Four men will be able to slip in under the radar undetected and clean house. Too many men and too much equipment means that the potential for detection and fuckups is greater.”

So was the potential for ineffectuality. This mission sounded like pure suicide. “I want it on record that I disagree.”

“Duly noted.” And boy, did Andy sound pissed off. “We’ll need you back at base by fifteen hundred tomorrow.”

With that, Andy hung up. Numbly, Hunter pressed the off button on his phone. Three o’clock tomorrow afternoon, in barely thirty hours. How the fuck was he supposed to save his marriage and ensure that his wife was completely safe before he had to leave?

Hunter didn’t see a way to do both, and any good soldier learned how to prioritize mission objectives when things started going to hell. Between those two, he had no doubt which came first. Mentally, he sifted through his possible tactics. He had only one left.

And it hurt like hell.

Gritting his teeth, he reached for his phone and called Jack, who answered on the first ring.

Hunter didn’t even let the man greet him before diving in. “We’ve got to move tonight. I’ll be out of the country indefinitely tomorrow.”

Jack cursed, sighed bleakly. “Okay, we’ll make it work. Word on the street is that Villarreal is tired of dodging cops and is ready to wring your wife’s pretty neck. I know the connection between him and Silva isn’t obvious . . .”