Page 40 of Fast Vengeance

“Just you. Got another meeting.”

Brock followed him out into the late afternoon heat and across the base to the building where they would hold their briefings. For the past three days they had searched for a solid lead on Nieto, Montoya or the slippery El Escorpion. So far nothing had led to much.

“Anything solid to go on yet?” New tips seemed to come in all the time, though most of them turned out to be useless.

“Maybe. They’ve got something else for us to check out with another source tonight.”

He nodded. Both he and Taggart had accompanied Mexican officials and SF guys to a handful of meetings with informants and contacts since arriving in country. Brock knew a little Spanish, understood slightly more than he could speak, but was far from fluent and native speakers spoke way too fast for him. It was a pain in the ass, but at least that way they were in on everything and got to observe firsthand how things worked down here.

When they walked into the building, their Mexican counterparts were already assembled around a table in the briefing room. The head of the taskforce spoke in heavily accented but good English about the latest intel. Nieto was rumored to be somewhere here in Veracruz with his head of security and a handful of men.

“When’s Rodriguez due in?” Brock murmured to Taggart during a lull in the briefing.

The native Spanish speaker was joining the team sometime today, now that his mother’s service was over. Brock and Taggart had both told him to stay in California with his family, but due to the situation unfolding here, Rodriguez had insisted on coming down to assist with the op.

Losing a loved one was a hell of a thing to go through, and Brock fully understood why his teammate would want to work right now, since he was going through something similar with Tori. In a way it was like a death too, because even though she was alive, she was still gone forever. He needed to keep busy, otherwise the heartache might kill him.

“Not until twenty-two hundred,” Taggart answered.

Damn. Would sure make Brock feel better to have one of their own here to listen in and translate during the meeting.

Taggart’s phone rang. He answered, spoke to someone for a minute, too low for Brock to overhear. As soon as he hung up, it rang again. Looking at the number, Taggart sighed and answered, giving Brock a look he recognized all too well. The irritation there was loud and clear. His commander had way too much to do and only one of him to do it. And now he was supposed to go meet this informant tonight as well.

“I’ll take this one,” Brock offered when Taggart got off the call, nodding at the folder on the table.

Pure relief flashed in his commander’s eyes. “You sure?”

“Yeah, I got this.”

“I owe you. Report in when you’re on your way back to base.” Taggart slapped him on the shoulder and walked out, already on another call.

After finding out that he and the Mexican feds were leaving in ten minutes to meet the contact, Brock ran back to the barracks to grab his sidearm and holster. The guys were all quiet now, napping or reading or playing cards.

“Got an informant meeting,” he told them as he gathered his stuff. “Won’t be back until after chow, so grab something for me. Rodriguez is due in late tonight.”

“Will do,” Khan said with a wave without looking up, his brow furrowed in concentration as he stared at his cards, Maka and Prentiss across from him.

Brock snorted a laugh. “Yeah. Try not to miss me too much.”

“We won’t,” Granger called out.

Back outside, Brock jogged out to meet his two counterparts—both Mexican Federal Police—and climbed into a waiting SUV. The drive gave him time to think more about Tori. How he regretted not telling her he loved her. He hadn’t said it because he’d thought it would hurt her more, but now he wasn’t so sure. At least if he’d told her she would know without a doubt how much she meant to him.

By the time they reached the meeting location an hour away, the sun was setting, the sky ablaze in a wash of orange and blood red, the trees throwing long shadows onto the road.

The driver pulled into an empty gravel parking lot off the road that led to some hiking trails through the hills. Next to him, the other cop was on the phone to someone else, presumably the informant. Brock only caught a word here and there, his Spanish limited and the speed of the conversation too fast.

The guy up front swiveled in his seat to look back at him. “He’ll be here in five minutes,” he said in English.

“You know him?” Brock asked. He only knew what he’d been told in the briefing. Apparently this informant had a tip on one of their HVTs he wanted to give them in exchange for cash.

“Yes. We’ve met him several times for things in the past month.”

All right then. Nothing to do now but wait.

Contain, disrupt, dismantle. That was FAST’s motto, and it was never more appropriate than now, when they were finally down here going after the heart of the cartel they had been battling for years.

The guys up front chattered away in Spanish until a car approached from the east. They waited until the driver exited the car. Brock couldn’t see anyone else in the back. “It’s him,” the driver said, and stepped out.

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