Page 17 of Skull

“I can’t. They’ll kill me.”

“If you don’t want to end up a eunuch, then talk.” She glanced up at Strekoza. “We won’t tell anyone it came from you.”

He swallowed hard, his breath ragged. “All right. I just joined, so I only have a little info.”

“What cartel?”

“A FARC-based one, I think. It’s run by a woman.”

“Her name?”

He hesitated, then when Walker pushed the knife a bit further into his jeans, pricking him near his manhood, the kid yelped, “Pincho.”

“Jackpot.” Strekoza nodded.

“That’s all I know. Please let me go. I won’t say anything,” he pleaded, young, so young, and she wouldn’t be human if she didn’t feel sorry for the kid, but he had threatened to cut her face if she didn’t give up sex to him. That cemented his character, and it was clear he chose this life, and it was a brutal choice. Two Americans were being held hostage, and Walker knew that in most scenarios, Leigh and Hazard wouldn’t survive whether or not Pincho got her husband back. She felt it in her gut—this was a no-win situation, and the kid would soon be singing like a canary to his buddies. It wouldn’t do him any good, but Walker and her partner preferred to work from the shadows and make sure this Blade never saw them coming.

Strekoza moved like lightning. The kid didn’t even have time to take another breath before he was done. They called for cleanup and headed back to the compound.Las Espadas Fantasma, the Phantom Blades, were the armed wing of Pincho’s empire. Their leader was Blade. Now it was time to debrief Anna and send her Shadowguard in the right direction.

Pincho had managed to fly below the radar. No one had an inkling that she was Nacho’s daughter, that she’d inherited his entire organization. She had ordered hundreds of deaths, trafficked in human smuggling, extorted, ran rackets, counterfeited goods, and laundered money. Then there were the drugs. Colombia was the largest producer of cocaine in the world, trafficking it to North America, Europe, and Asia, and within the region, Brazil was one of the largest consumers. But fentanyl was a global epidemic, and her traffickers were armed with a deadly weapon, the drug itself. In the course of her illegal activities, she amassed an unimaginable fortune. She had the means to follow through and was a formidable opponent.

Her cartel had many soldiers, state-of-the-art weapons, and billions in its war chest. Yeah, Pincho was a ghost, just an accented female voice on the phone. That picture in Astrid Cristo’s home office still haunted Walker. There were many players in that photo, notably Nacho, Astrid, and someone they’d trusted, Jose Molina. That one hurt, and Walker mourned the loss of him. He had been a great resource for jobs like this. But he and Astrid were in the wind, fugitives. Stealing millions from a very dangerous organization was a death sentence. And that young girl was going to lead them to the elusive woman.

Walker intended to add another label to her repertoire…ghostbuster.

6

Skull enteredthe pool area with Bones trotting beside him. His MWD loved the water, and he figured it couldn’t hurt to keep his pup’s swimming skills sharp. You never knew when they’d have to jump in the drink. He spotted Boomer sitting on the edge of one of the lounge chairs, tying and retying a rope. Knots were a huge part of a sailor’s life, and practicing them was as essential as horseback riding, driving anything that moved, climbing buildings, learning languages, or even dancing. Tango, anyone?

Skull nudged Boomer, who couldn’t seem to take his eyes off Taylor Hoffman. All of them were antsy after two days with nothing to do. SEALs were Type A personalities, and leaving them idle was a mistake. A man can only work out so much, not to mention that every one of them knew that two of their own were in terrible danger. Inactivity gnawed at them minute by minute. They were special operators who could adapt as fast as the environment changed. These were men who could focus on many things at once, work together as a team, and learn new skills quickly—all while under unfathomable stress.

So why did women like Hummingbird and Taylor send them running for cover when they had survived BUD/S, combat, and all the subsequent training? Hell Week stripped them down to their core. They weren’t just men who knew how to do the job. They were men whocoulddo the job with their eyes closed and one arm tied behind their backs.

He’d almost rather HAHO jump. Yeah, jumping with a tank and mask because thin oxygen levels can cause dizziness, fatigue, headache, massive confusion, shortness of breath, and even complete loss of consciousness. Brave that, while wearing full combat gear, a sixty-pound ruck, a ballistic helmet, and night-vision goggles, deploying a square chute that propelled him forward at twenty-five miles per hour and having to navigate in pitch black to hit a drop zone with pinpoint accuracy while toting sixty pounds of canine who had his own mask, goggles, and combat gear. Yup. Easy fucking day. Walker…not so much.

Boomer caught Skull’s eye. “What?”

“Stop staring at her,” Skull said. “It borders on creepy, man, and no one wants to be that guy.” He knew Boomer had been through the same training he had and was as rock solid as any of them. But when it came to babe combat, all those skills might as well be left outside the wire. When a woman you find irresistible wraps her skillful mouth around your dick, all bets were off.

Digging deep for control wasn’t the tough part. Finding his moral code amid all that mind-bending, body-overloading sensuality was nearly impossible. His character just happened to trump all of that because hisintention, hisinterestin Hummingbird was more than physical, and when everything else failed, he would remember that. Until he got her to understand the same thing, he was going to remain steadfast. No sex with her until that was evident. And yeah, that kind of integrity was going to cause more blue balls than all his teenage years and all his time at BUD/S. Truth be told, he wasn’t getting as much action since he’d laid eyes on her. Whether he liked it or not, that was where he was right now.

Boomer ducked his head and looked chagrined. “Fuck. I can’t help myself, even though I know she’s not interested.”

“How do you know that?”

He released a heavy sigh, dealing with his own female issues. Boomer had it bad for the German bombshell.

He sighed again and shrugged those broad shoulders. “She told me, sort of.”

Skull could imagine that stung, even for a man used to rejection. When it came from a woman a guy wanted, it hurt like hell. And whether Boomer wanted to admit it or not, he was vulnerable after the divorce. From what Skull could tell, Boomer’s breakup with Lila had been brutal. Matters of the heart were different from the mental toughness required in training and battle. It just was.

Skull sympathized with Boomer. It was clear the man had been devastated by his divorce, though Skull didn’t know what caused the rift between Boomer and Lila. Boomer had joined the team at the tail end of his divorce. The guy had evolved from a bitter, insensitive jerk into the more rounded man they knew today. Skull suspected Boomer hid his sensitivity behind a mask of anger to get through the days and nights. GQ’s influence when they’d been in London had helped temper Boomer and made him realize how he was acting.

“Sort of?” Skull asked, shooting a glance over to Taylor. He frowned. She was stealing looks at Boomer. That didn’t seem like the behavior of a woman who wasn’t interested. “What do you mean?”

“She overheard us talking about her,” Boomer said with a rasp. “I’m sure she thinks we have terrible manners.”

Skull scoffed. “She eavesdropped. That’s rude.”

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