Page 42 of Fast Vengeance

Gabe Lockhart jackknifed up in his bunk from a dead sleep when Taggart burst into the barracks, his face and posture tense. “Listen up,” his commander barked, scanning the room. “The meeting with the informant was a setup. Both Mexican cops are dead, and Hamilton’s missing.”

What? Gabe threw his legs over the side of his bunk and reached for his gear as the room exploded into questions and exclamations.

“Who was the informant?” Rodriguez demanded, having just arrived, his duffel still open because he’d been in the process of unpacking.

“Some local they’ve worked with before. We don’t know if he’s the kidnapper, or if he was just the setup man.”

Holy fuck.

Gabe was on his feet with his weapon in hand and heading to the door without even being conscious of moving. The team all rushed to the briefing center to find out what was going on.

They walked into chaos. People were scrambling around the room, talking on top of one another. The police commander was arguing with the SF commander, both of them shouting at the other.

Taggart shouldered his way through to the center of the room. “Somebody tell me what the fuck is going on right now,” he bellowed. Everyone shut up and looked at him. “Rodriguez,” he snapped. “Get over here and get me a damn sitrep on Hamilton.”

The team stayed together near the back of the room while Rodriguez and Taggart battled to find out what the hell was going on. Nobody seemed to know anything, so finally Taggart demanded to be taken to the meeting location, motioning to the others to follow as he headed for the door. The whole team piled into two SUVs and raced for the meeting site while Rodriguez stayed behind to monitor the Mexican search effort.

“Can you fucking believe this shit?” Maka said from the driver’s seat as he tore after the vehicle Taggart was riding in.

“No,” answered Granger, in the back next to Gabe. “Venenos gotta be behind this.”

“One of the HVTs,” Gabe said. “Question is, which one?”

“Nieto or Montoya,” Prentiss said from the shotgun seat. “Has to be.”

It took way too damn long to get to the meeting site. Mexican Federal Police had everything cordoned off by the time they arrived. Two cops lay dead on the gravel parking lot a few yards from their vehicle sprawled on their stomachs, weapons drawn.

From their positioning it looked like they’d been running for cover behind the vehicle when they were shot down. The SUV’s front quarter panel had bullet holes in it and the rear driver’s side door was open.

Gabe’s stomach was tight as a drum. Hamilton was likely still alive. But this was a race against time to find him before he was butchered.

The dinner he’d wolfed down sat like a congealed lump in his gut as he thought of the Veneno victims they’d come across before. Including Anya, who was essentially one of their own.

She had been raped and brutally murdered by Montoya’s men. If they could do that to her, what the hell would they do to Hamilton?

“Why take Hamilton and kill both the others?” Gabe said to Freeman as they waited for Taggart to get up to speed with the cop in charge.

“To make a statement to the DEA and the U.S. government.”

Maybe. But Gabe had a feeling there was more to it than that. “So they had to have known one of us was coming to this meeting.”

“Yup. Would have been Taggart if Hamilton hadn’t stepped in.” Freeman’s jaw flexed as he stared at the scene, hands on hips, frustration coming off him in waves. “Motherfuckers.”

The seven of them stood there waiting, precious minutes ticking past until Taggart finally stalked back to them, his face like a thundercloud. “Basically, nobody knows dick all. Obviously there are no CCTVs out here, and they don’t have a satellite feed on the area. Only thing they’ve got so far is the SUV’s dashboard cam video, and that only shows the suspect car approaching the lot, then leaving in the opposite direction. No footage of the attacker.”

He paused, drew in a frustrated breath. “They’ve got roadblocks up in the surrounding area, but who the hell knows how tight they are, and there were no witnesses to give any additional intel.”

This wasn’t good. At all.

“What can we do? We can’t just sit here,” Granger protested.

“We can’t do shit,” Taggart bit out. “They won’t let us assist with the search, say it’s not our jurisdiction.” He thumped a finger into his chest. “Hamilton is one of ours, and that sure as fuck makes this my jurisdiction. I’ve already contacted the CIA to see if they have any satellite feed of the area during the attack.”

“That’s BS,” Maka growled, taking a step forward as if he was going to charge over there to the Mexican cops and start knocking heads together.

Taggart planted a hand in the middle of the big man’s chest. “Stop. Last thing I need is to have you arrested right now.” He scanned the team. “We’re heading back to base. I’ll raise more hell from there.”

Grumbles and protests erupted, but everyone did as they were told.

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