Page 55 of Winters Heat

Jared turned to Winters. “Glad to see the company resources are so well used.”

Winters rolled his eyes. “I can’t handle how slow this is going. Come on already.”

Parker closed the security footage except the live feed of his darkened garage. Winters sat and watched the dark screen, transfixed. Parker went back to his keyboard, numbers and code streaming across the monitor in front of him. A flash on the screen and a GPS location began to read.

“They’re stationary. Fairfax County, Virginia. Not far from here. Satellite images coming in three, two, one…”

A small compound appeared on the flat screen. The chopper sat on a helipad. A decrepit mansion stood in rough shape, shutters hanging off windows, cracked white paint peeling from the clapboard, and a half-boarded front door.

“What’s that place?” Winters asked.

“Land records say it’s the business address of Silva Enterprises. Five pesos says it’s a front for the Colombian, where they launder money. That place hasn’t seen anyone in long time.”

“That’s advantageous. Security will be nil.” Jared nodded to a different screen.

Brock entered Winters’s garage. He paused, then moved straight to the Hummer, opened the door, and cocked his head to the side. Winters’s phone rang, and he answered before the screen showed Brock grabbing his phone to dial.

“There must be a five second delay in the feed,” Parker said.

“The kid’s asleep,” Brock said. “I don’t know how the hell to get her out of her seat. She looks… secure.”

Thank God. Relief was an awesome poultice right now. When Winters found Mia, he’d get on his hands and knees, thanking her until the end of days for protecting Clara.

He gave directions to Brock to meet his mother. Maybe he should call her back with a rundown of events. She was likely to interrogate Brock until he broke.

Jared cleared his throat. “Now that we’re done with all of that, it’s time to kick some cartel ass.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

The tactical room buzzed as Jared barked orders to his men, readying to rendezvous at the target point. Never had an assault been more important. Winters pulled his shirt over the Kevlar vest and tightened the vertical strap securing his leg holster.

Jared’s phone rang, and he snatched it off the table. “What?”

There was a pause. Something was wrong. Times like this, Winters wished stone-face Jared had a tell. A sign of any kind.

“Goddamn it.” Jared slammed the phone down and pinched the bridge of his nose. That was a tell if there ever was one.

The room stilled. Winters stood with his teammates, each in varying stages of gearing up, and waited. If the tanker-sized knot in Winters’s stomach were any indication, Jared would have zip to say in the good-news department.

“Change of plans. We’re in a holding pattern,” Jared said.

Winters strode over to him, barely containing the acid that churned in his gut. He shoved tight knuckled fists into his pockets. No need for two battling rams to go at it. Punching Jared would accomplish headaches and busted ribs for both but not help his situation. “What do you mean we’re holding?”

“They’re on the move again.”

“So we move toward them.” That wasn’t the smartest action, but itwasaction. And right now, Winters needed to expend energy. “We search and destroy.”

“Every ship can be a mine sweeper once, asshole. This isn’t your throwaway team, and that’s not much of a plan. Use your head, Winters.”

“We’ve got six, maybe seven more hours on that tracker.”

“Roger that. We’ve got a solid idea where they’re relocating. Give Parker a few minutes to confirm. There’s no way we can intercept them before they take off again—”

“Take off? Again?” Winters was furious.

“They’re moving fast and southwest. Straight toward a private airstrip. My guess, they’re choppering to a jet.”

Winters slammed his eyes shut, trying to calm down. “Christ, man. If they go wheels up, she’ll be in Colombia in six hours.”

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