Page 70 of Strike Fast

At the abrupt tone, his head enforcer’s head snapped up and he shoved the hat off. “What?” he asked, startled.

“We’re flying in the wrong goddamn direction. Go to the cockpit and find out what the hell’s going on.”

Face blank with surprise, Antonio shot out of his seat and hurried up the aisle while Carlos glared at his back. This was all he fucking needed, another goddamn headache. If he showed up late to the meeting, it would look like a deliberate show of disrespect. And people who disrespectedEl Escorpiontended to disappear without a trace.

Forever. Unless body parts started turning up in various waterways.

Antonio shut the cockpit door behind him. Carlos kept sipping at his drink, willing the mellow burn of the alcohol to quell the nerves in the pit of his stomach.

A loud thud sounded from the cockpit.

Carlos froze, his drink inches from his lips, eyes darting to the closed door at the end of the aisle.

Another thud, this one even louder.

Without looking away from that door he set the drink down, dread curling inside him, his heart rate accelerating. His muscles drew taut and he set his hands on the edge of the seat, ready to shove to his feet.

The cockpit door flew open.

Carlos jerked in surprise when a dark-haired man strode out, aiming a Glock dead center at Carlos’s chest. Recognition splintered through him.

Special Agent Reid Prentiss.

The FAST agent stalked toward Carlos with measured strides, his expression so deadly it sent a chill racing up Carlos’s spine. “Where’s my daughter, asshole?”

REID STRUGGLED TO keep his rage in check as he aimed the pistol at Ruiz’s center mass. From the moment he’d seen the bastard step out of that rented car earlier, he’d wanted to smash the fucker’s face in.

Ruiz shot to his feet, expression set.

“Where is she?” Reid bellowed, stopping a stride away, the barrel of his weapon level with Ruiz’s chest.

“Where are you taking me?” Ruiz said, not even bothering to ask about Antonio. His chief enforcer was either dead or incapacitated, of no help whatsoever to Carlos.

Reid had never wanted to put a bullet in someone so badly. “D.C., asshole. Where a team of federal agents is waiting to lock you up in the darkest hole they can find.” Savage satisfaction ripped through him at the flash of fear in Ruiz’s eyes. Every Mexican cartel member’s worst nightmare was being extradited to the U.S. to face trial and imprisonment where the officials, judges and guards couldn’t be paid off. No way out.

But rather than spill his guts, the bastard put on an oily smile Reid itched to wipe off his face. “My team of lawyers will have me out within a week. You’ve got no evidence against me.”

No evidence?

Reid lunged forward and drove his fist into the fucker’s smug face. Bone crunched. Pain flashed through Reid’s hand as Ruiz’s head snapped back and he yelled, both hands flying to his busted nose.

Blood trickling out from beneath his hands, he glared up at Reid with utter loathing through watering eyes. “You’ll fucking pay for that,cabrón.”

Reid grabbed the front of Ruiz’s shirt and yanked, twisting the fabric so it dug into the bastard’s throat. “Whereisshe?” he bellowed, on the verge of out of control, lungs heaving, hands shaking. He would kill Ruiz if Autumn was dead. Kill him right here and now even if it meant rotting in jail the rest of his life. If she was gone he was dead anyway. At least killing Ruiz would avenge his little girl and give him a tiny amount of peace.

“Go fuck yourself,” Ruiz snarled, lips peeled back over bloodstained teeth.

Reid’s finger twitched on the trigger guard as they stared each other down in the tense silence, both of them breathing hard.

He almost pulled it. Hewantedto pull it. Wanted it so bad he shook. But until he knew what had happened to Autumn, he couldn’t kill Ruiz.

With effort, he pushed his rage down deep and shoved Ruiz. Ruiz slammed back against the seat with a grunt and quickly scrambled to face Reid, giving him a lethal glare.

“Maybe you’d rather talk to my associate instead.” Instead of shooting him, Reid pulled his cell phone from his pocket.

Keeping his eyes on Ruiz, he pressed send on a text he’d had ready long before Ruiz’s bodyguard had entered the cockpit—where he now lay trussed up like a Christmas turkey and tied to the copilot’s seat, missing a few teeth and one eye swelling shut.

“What? Who are you calling?” Ruiz sneered up at him, the lower half of his face and the top of his shirt covered in blood.

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