Page 34 of Fear for Her Life

“There’s always pies in the refrigerator.” Carter removed his toothpick and tossed it into the garbage. “Dave usually has a constant supply. When they’re cooking cherry pies at Aunt Betty’s Café, he doesn’t need to order. They just bring them right along.” He grinned and pulled out a burger and a packet of fries. As he sat down, he looked at Jenna. “I figure the prisoners are going to move into town at dusk. They won’t be together. I believe they will drop one of them on the outskirts of town, and the other two will split up.”

Chewing slowly, Jenna swallowed her bite of sandwich. “I was just discussing that with Raven before you arrived. We are all trained to handle missions and move around unnoticed when necessary. The storeroom here is filled with tactical gear and everything we’ll need to move around town like shadows. The problem is this is a big town, and we’d need to have sightings before we move out. We can’t just hang around town on the off chance that one of them walks by.” She sipped from her to-go cup and then placed it on the desk. “It has been very quiet in town. People are staying off the streets, and if Kalo had noticed them, he’d have called right away. We need to be alert, so we rest up for the next couple of hours.” She looked from one man to the other. “If you’re not aware, there are showers and plenty of fresh towels in the men’s locker room.” She took a key from the drawer in her desk and pushed it across the table toward them. “Here’s the key for the storeroom. The small key opens the gun locker. Take what you need, including ammo. When you’ve finished eating, we’ll meet back here in my office at seven and hope that these escapees make the mistake of walking into my town tonight.”

FORTY

JEZABEL

A little after six, Kane sat at the bar in a little backwoods town by the name of Jezabel, his feet resting on the brass footrail polished by a century of boots. He’d taken a position away from the growing gaggle of loudmouthed men at the opposite end. It was like stepping back in time. His room wasn’t much better. It smelled old and musty, and he figured, by the surprised expression of the barkeep when he’d requested a room, not many people stayed above the saloon. He’d noticed a decent motel as he’d driven the battered old truck into town. No doubt Wolfe would be staying there. The saloon was what he might describe as quaint. Brown paint peeled from the outside of the saloon, and the worn floorboards creaked when he headed for the entrance. Out front, a hitching rail bleached from the sun over the last hundred years or more sat waiting for the last group of cowboys to ride into town looking for a drink.

He imagined a stagecoach pulling up, its horses wet with sweat and filled with passengers looking for a better life. The sign out front, hung at a jaunty angle from rusty chains, had greeted hundreds of people over decades. It had seen better days. The faded green letters with red surrounds were barely readable and a stark contrast to the neon sign on the corner. From inside whiskey-tainted air mixed with a smell of leather, and beer spilled onto the sidewalk. Balls on a pool table clinked, and from an old jukebox, the sweet voice of Patsy Cline came over the mumble of voices. From the number of men sitting on stools hugging glasses of beer or whiskey along the long polished bar, this place was the hub of the town. From the smell, Kane figured they all worked with cattle.

After Wolfe had attended an extensive briefing conducted by a small group of trusted agents, Kane decided the best way forward would be for him to step into an ongoing DEA undercover investigation into fentanyl distribution. From the intel, while in prison Souza had continued his illegal importation of fentanyl from China and been organizing dealers with wide-reach setups to purchase the drug from him. Fentanyl was a perfect drug for trafficking, mainly because such a small amount was needed to be smuggled. Disguised as a packet of salt, it often slipped into Mexico and then was carried into the US using drug mules. From there it was added to various substances to make pills, which were easier to sell on the streets.

It disturbed Kane how fast this drug was spreading into the US. As little as two milligrams could be lethal, which meant one single kilo of fentanyl could potentially kill half a million people. The plan in place, the major concern was that Kane was known to the organization, although they last saw him wearing a partial disguise. This time he’d used a professional movie FX artist to add fake tattoos. He now displayed full sleeves on both arms and a rattlesnake crawling up his neck. They’d added a long jagged scar down one cheek. He’d kept everything apart from the scar well-covered as he hurried back to the chopper supplied to Wolfe.

It had taken two chopper rides for him and Wolfe to arrive outside of Jezabel, where they’d parted company. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror behind the bar and a stranger looked back at him. Wolfe had picked up untraceable weapons, the rest of his disguise, and a suitcase filled with old clothes. After being dropped at a gas station ten miles from town, he’d changed in a filthy toilet. He wore a shoulder holster carrying an M18 pistol, same as his own, under a blue and gray plaid shirt, hanging open over a faded black T-shirt, threadbare jeans, and his own scuffed work boots. He’d found an old truck waiting for him and headed into town. The disguise had given him over-the-collar light brown hair, brown contact lenses, and tattoos that looked so real Wolfe had walked past him on the sidewalk outside the saloon. It was fortunate that when two or three big guys sat at the bar alongside him, for once in his life he didn’t stick out like a sore thumb.

Uncomfortable at having his back to the door, Kane sipped a bottle of beer and kept his attention fixed on the reflection in the mirror. He’d balked at wearing the brown Stetson the powers that be had supplied him with and picked up a trucker’s cap from the gas station. Communication would be difficult. Souza’s crew would know every trick in the book and be checking him out. They wouldn’t know about the GPS subdermal implant, something he’d vowed never to agree to again, but after his last encounter with Souza’s men, he wasn’t taking the chance of not being found. He also had a tiny communication device set inside a stud earring with an undetectable speaker the thickness of a hair curled inside his ear. The clarity of the sound was remarkable. Being able to access experimental military inventions made his life easier. Although, how he’d explain having a pierced ear to Jenna when he arrived home would be difficult. That’s one thing he liked about Wolfe. If new inventions became available, he’d get them.

The conversation inside grew louder as more cattlemen flowed through the doors. Most were dressed much the same as him, with the exception of dusty cowboy hats. The influx of ranch hands was much the same as in Black Rock Falls. Work was plentiful at this time of year, and on Friday nights many of the men left the confines of the bunkhouses to spend time in town. Along with the men arrived a number of what he would describe as barflies. These women squeezed in among the men crowded around the bar, filling the room with the scent of cheap perfume. He dropped his gaze to his beer as a woman with bright red lipstick and long dyed black hair hanging down to her waist sidled up toward him. He figured her jeans had been sprayed on and a bare midriff showed underneath the shirt tied above her waist. He regarded her from under his lashes as she managed to climb onto the stool beside him and presented her ample cleavage to him. He sighed. Anyone he came in contact with was a problem, but this woman might just make him appear as one of the boys.

Coming to this grimy watering hole was to make contact with one of Souza’s many fentanyl distributors. He needed to get closer to the man himself, and the intel was that Eduardo Souza hadn’t left the state. Traces of him had been detected, including CCTV facial recognition of him, and his known accomplices had been detected in neighboring towns. Souza was on the move and had chosen to hole up in the older small towns, which lacked an abundance of technology. Before Kane arrived, DEA agents had planned on making contact in the guise of a big-time distributor. The team behind Kane had removed every agent from the town, leaving only him and Wolfe to hunt down Souza. Kane didn’t want to get involved in the fentanyl distribution. He wanted Souza and would use any means to that end. If he exposed the players in Souza’s distribution network, the DEA could mop up after he’d gone. It had taken negotiations at the highest level to risk exposing him again. Others had been suggested to take his place, good men, but Souza was threatening Jenna and Tauri and now it was personal. With permission from POTUS, he’d been sent on a sanctioned mission and wouldn’t return home unless he took out Souza or died trying.

“You new in town?” The woman leaned closer. “Me too. Buy me a drink?”

Aware of people causing distractions to enable an accomplice to sucker punch him from behind, Kane kept his gaze on the mirror. The smell of her perfume crawled up his nose, and her long hair brushed his bare forearms. His mind went to Jenna’s honeysuckle scent, so subtle and alluring. He sighed, ignored the woman, and continued to sip his beer.This is all I need.

“Come on, honey.” The woman leaned against him, pressing one leg so hard against him the heat from her body soaked through his jeans. “It’s no good crying in your beer. Something brought you here. Talk to me. I’m a good listener and I can make you smile.”

Perhaps she was just a sex worker. He lifted his left hand and wiggled his fingers, allowing the gold band to catch the light. He’d never worn a wedding ring on a mission before. Allowing the enemy an edge to use against him would never happen, but Souza already knew about Jenna. The ring was staying on. “I’m married.”

“Why would that make a difference?” The woman ran her fingertips over the back of his hand. “She’s not here now and you are all on your lonesome. How would she ever know?”

Shaking his head slowly, Kane looked at her from under his lashes. “Iwould know.”

“Who would believe that a big tough cowboy like you is scared of his wife?” She spun around her barstool to rest both elbows on the bar. Her attention fixed on him.

Keeping watch on the people moving around behind him, Kane took another sip from his bottle. “It’s called respect and it goes both ways.”

“I’m sure if she’s a liberated woman like most these days, she wouldn’t be too worried about you having a drink with me then, would she?” She smiled like a snake. “I mean, as she can trust you not to stray.” She giggled. “Don’t you find me the least bit attractive at all?”

Not discounting the fact Souza may have sent a woman to check out the latest acquisition to his distribution team, Kane shrugged. “Maybe.” He raised two fingers to the barkeep and two bottles of beer arrived. He flicked her a glance. “What’s your name?”

“China.” She flicked her hair over one shoulder and took a beer and sipped. “Where are you staying?”

Fully aware “China girl” was the local street name for fentanyl. Kane pointed to the ceiling. Either Souza had sent a woman as a contact or maybe her name really was China. He needed to find out. He scanned the room and then flicked her a glance. “Why the twenty questions? You looking for someone, or something?”

“That depends.” China swiveled on her barstool. “What’s your name?”

Kane used the code name Wolfe had given him. “Angelo.”

“Hmm the ‘Angel of Death,’ huh? You don’t look so tough.” China licked her lips and sighed. Maybe one day you’ll tell me how you got that name.”

Shaking his head, Kane observed her in the mirror. “I doubt it. You wanna do business?”

“That depends on how much you need and how much you’ve got.” China met his eyes in the mirror’s reflection. “Why don’t you finish your beer and I’ll follow you upstairs.”

Kane looked at her and snorted. “I don’t figure you could hide what I need in that outfit.”

---