Page 86 of Fast Vengeance

Coming up on his knees, he began packing away the rifle, aware of Colebrook’s stare on him.

“What are you doing?” his teammate finally asked.

“Leaving.”

“But… You’re not going to finish him off?”

“Can’t.”

“Can’t?” He sounded confused.

“Weapon malfunctioned. Must have jammed or something.” He took the scope off, tucked it into its case.

It took Colebrook a moment to catch on. “God, I hate it when that happens.”

“Me too.” Standing, he slung the rifle over his shoulder, pausing to look down into the valley below. At this distance Montoya was nothing but a tiny black insect inching across the ground.

A mortally wounded and paralyzed insect who wouldn’t last much longer. Maybe ten minutes, tops. Barely enough time for the Mexicans to reach him.

But in those final few minutes while his heart continued beating, Montoya would suffer. And hopefully he was as terrified right now as his victims had been.

He wouldn’t suffer as much as he deserved to, not after all the atrocities he’d committed, but shattering his spine and making him slowly bleed out before the Mexican SF team could move in was better than nothing.

It was the best Gabe could do.

He didn’t say a word as he turned away and headed down the ridge to where Taggart and the others waited. Colebrook scrambled to catch up with him.

Gabe didn’t care what consequences he would face for his actions, though he doubted they would be that bad. His conscience was clear.

The monster responsible for destroying Oceane’s life was gone. That was all that mattered.

All he cared about was that he had just given the woman he’d fallen in love with the chance to find some peace now that Montoya had been given what he deserved.

Chapter Twenty-Two

“You ready?”

Oceane glanced up into Gabe’s face as they stood next to the SUV he’d borrowed from headquarters twenty minutes before. She reached for his hand, something catching in her chest when he immediately curled his fingers around hers in a solid grip. “Yes. Thank you for doing this.”

Her father and el Escorpion were both gone, no longer threats to her. And a few hours ago, thanks to Victoria’s keen insight, Montoya had been killed by Mexican forces. Or at least that was the story.

Oceane eyed Gabe. He had called her himself to tell her the news, on his way to the airport in Chihuahua. She had flown back here to Veracruz with most of his team, except for Taggart and Colebrook, who had been with him, and Brock, who had been sent back to D.C. on a transport. Victoria was with him but leaving D.C. in the morning. So Oceane had lost someone else today as well.

Gabe scanned the quiet cemetery. Still on guard even though the men hunting her were all gone. It was deserted at this hour, the moonlight transforming the sad and somber place into something totally magical. Palm trees swayed in the warm breeze, the heady scent of jasmine and gardenia perfuming the air.

This was the most beautiful cemetery in Veracruz. Oceane had come here many times with her mother to visit her grandparents’ graves over the years.

Now she had come to say goodbye to her mother.

“It’s just over here,” Oceane told him, leading him toward the third row on the left.

The beautifully maintained grass was soft beneath the soles of her shoes. She felt as if she was in a dream as she walked toward the graves of her family. Her heart drummed in her ears, a sense of dread coiling inside her. She’d wanted to come here for months. Had hated not being able to be here to lay her mother to rest.

When the new white marble headstone came into view she faltered and let go of Gabe’s hand. Her entire body was numb, the pain in her chest eclipsing everything as she stopped in front of the grave and saw her mother’s name on the stone.

Anya Marie St. Fleur, beloved mother and friend.

Pain knifed through her. A white-hot blade slicing through her chest.

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