Page 28 of No Mistake

“Where?”

“To be determined.” Tracer knew where, but he wasn’t telling this fucker yet. “Where is Luis?”

“Upstairs.”

“And the doctor?”

“With him.”

Seeing the woman Perez had found really pissed him off. She was young, mid-twenties, terrified, but when he’d offered his arm for the transfusion, she’d been surprisingly calm and professional. Despite being scared to death. Fuck, he hated it when innocent civilians got caught up in this shit. As far as he was concerned, Luis could have bled out. But making sure Luis was returned alive to his father would get him closer to his goal.

“Is Luis conscious? We need to talk with him.”

Tracer saw the anger on Perez’s face. Good. The little shit didn’t like having to answer to him. Too bad. Alejandro Vitelli was the boss. A man he’d not met in person. Yet.

Perez moved past him toward the stairs, Tracer followed. When he stepped into Luis’s room, the first thing he noticed was the doctor still in her bloodstained clothes. Jesus Christ, they hadn’t even gotten her fresh clothes. Fucking animals. She was taking Luis’s temperature, but looked up at him. Her face was pale, with dark circles under her eyes. He dragged his gaze away, looking at Luis. His eyes were closed, his skin pale and sweaty.

“Infection?” He addressed his question to the Doctor.

She nodded. “Fever is going down, slowly.”

“Is he awake?” Perez stepped closer to the bed.

“No. He’s sleeping. It’s best that—”

“Wake him up.” Perez snapped. Chloe jumped.

Tracer clenched his fist. Jesus, the bastard was asking for a punch in the face. Unfortunately, not an option. Not yet anyway. He watched the doctor rouse Luis.

“Get out.” Perez hissed and the doctor left the room. Man, the guy was pushing his luck. One of these days, he was going to teach that asshole a lesson and enjoy every minute of it.

“What is it?” Luis whispered, his voice contorted with pain.

“The deal is back on for Thursday. The bitch doctor assures me you’ll be fine by then.”

Tracer raised his eyebrows. He was pretty damn sure the doctor had not assured any such thing and Luis was in a bad way. But Perez was nervous. He should be. If his son died, Alejandro Vitelli would skin Perez alive. Slowly.

“We have a problem,” Tracer said, talking directly to Luis. “The police officer died and the man in the other car was an off-duty FBI agent. Also dead.”

“Good. If they’re dead, they can’t talk,” Perez said.

“A dead police officer and a dead FBI agent is going to bring a whole lot of heat. The other officer survived. We don’t know what he saw.” Tracer looked between the two of them.

“Then we need to take care of the officer. I’ll handle it.”

Tracer was a few seconds away from breaking this fucker’s neck. Luis raised his hand.

“No,” he whispered. “It was dark. Whatever he saw, he’s probably already told them, and they have Mateo’s body.”

“They sure do,” Tracer said, looking at Perez. A prime example of being sloppy. Leaving the body behind was like leaving a calling card.

“What?” Perez challenged. “There was no time. If we had stayed longer, he would be dead.” He gestured to Luis.

Tracer ignored him. “FBI will identify Mateo. They’ll be hunting for who else was there. The sooner you get this deal done and get the fuck out of here, the better.”

“I’ll make it to the deal, then we leave at once,” Luis whispered.

“The bitch will need to be taken care of. She’s seen and heard too much,” Perez said, a look of evil anticipation on his face.

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