Rogue Defender (Gone Rogue), page 23
“If we can’t get a lock on Domina’s location, you’re the one who has to get Cortez into Kevlar, fit him with a squib pack, and shoot him in the space of thirty seconds.” Trev sits back and looks me up and down. “And then run before his security detail puts a bullet in your brain.”
“If I have to do all of that, we’re fucked and you know it.”
His denial rings hollow, and I pull up the new app Zephyr sent to my phone. “You think this thing is going to work?”
“If Zephyr says it’s solid, then it’s solid. The whole team has been working on a way to speed up traces for a year.”
The whole team.
Every few hours, another person logged into the ZEO app and introduced themselves to me. West’s wife Cam, who runs one of the leading companies in business security systems, explained how Muñoz’s team could hack into the Presidential Palace’s security feeds to spy on Garcia and Cortez.
Royce—the guy who designed the GPS trackers—walked Austin through the operation of the state-of-the-art drones he and Trev brought with them. The head of Hidden Agenda K&R, Ryker McCabe, called in a shit ton of favors to get three extra-large Palermo’s pizzas delivered a little after 7:00 p.m. Inside the boxes? Two hundred feet of det cord, jammers that won’t touch our comms units but should disable all other radio and cell signals in a quarter-mile radius, and fifty thousand dollars in cash. Along with enough pizza for ten people.
“Dax called,” Trev says on a yawn. “He got in touch with his contacts.”
“Can they do it?” Trevor’s boss lost his sight at the hands of the Taliban, but in addition to running a private security firm in Boston, he’s spent the last seven years building a network of the most influential—and deadly—military vets around the world.
Frowning, Trevor laces his fingers together over his head and stretches from side to side until his back pops. “If you’d asked me that eleven months ago, I’d have said no way in hell. But then Dax and Ry—and you—broke me out of La Crypta. I should be dead. Not coming up on a year with the woman I’ve loved since I was a teenager.”
“Trevor…” I can’t ask him to do this. Either of them. Austin’s engaged. Trev and Dani might as well be.
“Don’t,” he says. “We’re here, and tonight, we’re all leaving this fucking country together. With Domina.”
He says something about catching an hour or two and heads down the hall.
That’s the plan. Find Domina. Save Cortez. Expose Muñoz. And run.
“Leo? It’s time.” Austin raps on my bedroom door. By the time the sun came up, I was so exhausted, I fell asleep the moment my head hit the pillow. But now, we only have ninety minutes to get to the church.
“Anything from…them?” The last video of Domina came in more than ten hours ago, and I need to see her face one more time before everything goes to shit.
“No.” He tosses me an earbud. “Zephyr and Rip are monitoring the cameras all around the church. If they catch anything, we’ll know in seconds. Get dressed. Wheels up in twenty minutes.”
“I need to loosen up,” I say, gesturing to the PT equipment along the wall. “Give me ten, and I’ll be ready to go.”
Grabbing my phone, I lower myself down to the yoga mat. I haven’t prayed in two decades, but as I shove one of the studded therapy balls under my right ass cheek, I close my eyes. The words I learned in grade school come back to me, and I hold onto them like they’re my last hope.
Once I’m dressed, I join Trevor and Austin in the living room. Six large bags are stacked by the front door, and Trevor passes me a glass filled with a thick, green liquid. “What the hell is this?”
“Energy drink. Bottoms up.”
I choke down three sips before I dump the rest down the drain. “I’d rather drink battery acid than that shit.”
My phone vibrates, and Austin taps his earbud. “Z? Start a trace.”
“Morning, shithead,” I say when I answer the call. “Nice of you to finally return my messages.”
“I have more important things to do today, Mr. Basher. But since you were so insistent…”
Slamming my fist down on the counter, I let my anger boil over. For the first time since I lost Domina, it serves a purpose.
“Listen, shithead. I’m going to die. You think anyone’s going to let me murder Cortez and then just…walk away? I’ll either be shot on sight or locked away in one of those Ministry hell holes where I’ll be tortured until I don’t know my own name. You ever have someone you cared for? Maybe someone you even…loved? Two minutes. Just give me two minutes to talk to her on a live video call. After that, I’ll do it. I know how it’ll happen, and it’ll be a goddamn spectacle. No one in Panama will ever forget the day Manuel Cortez died.”
The man sighs. “Americans love their profanity, don’t they?”
“Give me something to call you besides shithead, and maybe I’ll be a little nicer.”
“You can call me Jefe.”
“Fuck that. Shithead fits you much better. I’ll be at the church in half an hour. Have Domina call me before 1:00 p.m. or not only will I walk away, but I’ll find you and set your balls on fire before I shove those crispy little fuckers down your throat.”
I hang up, and Zephyr’s voice in my ears is the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard. “Got him. Domina’s phone is on the Avenida Israel heading into the heart of the city. Time to get the drones in the air. “
Domina
“Get her ready for transport.”
Lying on the floor of the van, my wrists bound behind my back, blindfolded, and gagged, I struggle to focus. I remember nothing after Sergio and Pinzon left me alone.
When they woke me—it could not have been more than an hour ago—Sergio dragged me to the bathroom. I was so dizzy, I could barely walk. “Wash your face and do something with your hair. You are a mess.”
I vaguely remember telling him to go to hell. And his reply.
“Cause any trouble today, and you will get there long before I do.”
Turn after turn after turn, I struggle to control my nausea. When they shoved me into the van, the blindfold slipped—only a fraction—enough for me to see a tall, ornate iron fence with large gardenia bushes covering the bars five feet up. Multi-colored flagstones formed a beautiful driveway under my feet. A rich neighborhood. No wonder they gagged me. And did not care if anyone saw them.
I wish I could talk to Leo. Or at least see him. Not knowing what Sergio has planned for me is the worst kind of fear.
Pinzon sits so close, I can smell the detergent he uses. He felt me up again when he bound my wrists. At least my ankles are free. But I do not dare kick or struggle. A third man joined us in the back of the van. I cannot escape. All I can do is listen. And hope I learn something that might save Leo before the end.
The van jerks to a stop. Sergio pulls off the blindfold, and I blink hard until his face comes into focus. “Listen very carefully. Cortez is due to cast his vote in the next two hours. Daniel, Charles, and Gustavo will escort you to the ninth floor and stay with you until the Vice President is dead. Screaming will do you no good. You will not be rescued by anyone. If Mr. Basher’s friends attempt to breach the building, we will know, and you will die. Do exactly what you are told, and we will let you go by the end of the day. Do you understand?”
I nod—what else can I do?—and Sergio rips the duct tape from my lips. “That hurts!”
“I am sorry, Domina.” He cups my cheek and drags his thumb gently over my mouth. “You are a beautiful woman. Smart. And brave. Perhaps one day, you will see that my father is the leader Panama needs.”
“Never.” The word escapes on a whisper, and I cringe as Sergio’s expression hardens. For a moment, I think he might hit me, but he merely drops his hand and smiles.
“Take her up,” he says, and opens the van’s back door. Sunlight blinds me, making my eyes water.
Pinzon grabs my arm and drags me to the edge. “Stand, bitch.”
I try, but my swollen ankle wobbles, and I pitch forward. Right into Pinzon’s chest. He grabs my ass, squeezing hard enough to leave bruises. I swallow my scream.
We’re parked in an alley, a large SUV behind us. I can hear cheering—from the church where Manuel will cast his vote? They would want me close, I think. Close enough for Leo to see me die if he refuses to do what they ask.
Pinzon and another man—light skin and distinctly American features—each take one of my arms. We move quickly to a plain door at the back of the building.
It smells like new construction inside. Fresh paint, sawdust, plastic. My ankle throbs with every step. Why did I insist on wearing heels yesterday? If I had not, perhaps…
Stop. Focus. You have to find a way out of here.
But with three men surrounding me, there is no hope of escape. A bright inspection sticker on the elevator door proclaims it safe—dated only three days ago. No wonder they picked this place. It’s empty.
The ride to the ninth floor takes seconds. Down a long hallway, apartment doors on both sides, until we come to Unit 928.
“Bring her to the window,” Gustavo says. He locks the apartment door from the inside and wedges a large piece of plywood under the knob. Unzipping a large duffel bag, he removes a rifle, unfolds the stock, and shoves a magazine into the gun.
The American—Charles—grips my arm hard enough to leave a bruise as he and Pinzon drag me across the room.
I look around, praying for my head to clear. It is still so hard to think, but the dizziness has mostly passed. The kitchen is unfinished, wiring exposed on one wall, and the tall window…
Oh, God. No.
It’s open, letting a stiff breeze into the room. There is no balcony. No railing. Just a plain, wooden sill that cannot be deeper than ten centimeters in front of a window large enough for even Leo to stand in.
“Up,” Pinzon snaps.
I jerk my head up to meet his hungry gaze. “It is too narrow. I will fall!”
“That’s the idea.” He and Charles lift me.
Kicking at them, I scream. “No! Stop! Please!”
“Fuck this,” Pinzon mutters when I catch him in the chest. I collapse onto the dusty tile, jarring my shoulder.
Charles pulls a zip tie from his pocket and binds my ankles. I am going to die. I know it now. They will shove me out the window and I will fall to my death without ever seeing Leo again.
There is no reason to fight. When they lift me, I let them. Charles positions me on the left side of the open window. My heels slip, and Pinzon wrenches my feet so they form a wide v.
My legs shake, even after only a minute. All I can do is lean against the sill and pray for strength.
Two blocks away, hundreds of people line up at the church’s meeting space to cast their votes. I am so high up, the building so new, that no one will think to look for me here. But the men who took me will tell Leo. I am certain of it. So he can see how much danger I am in. And see me fall.
“If you move,” Pinzon says, positioning a large, rolling tool cart next to the window then sitting in a chair behind it, “you will fall. If Charles lets go, you will fall. And if you try to get down? Try to jump back into the room? Once Cortez dies, we will make you wish you had died too.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Leo
The streets around the Church of the Holy Trinity are packed with people. Only a few thousand are actual voters. The rest are here to see Manuel Cortez cast his vote.
“Base to Alpha Team,” Zephyr says in my ear. “Cameras just caught a caravan of six black SUVs leaving Cortez’s home.”
“I thought he wasn’t there. The thermal scans—”
“Those SUVs are a decoy. If he’s where we think he was all night,” she says, “another group of vehicles will join up with the caravan in five minutes.”
“And then?” Austin asks. He and Trevor dropped me off six blocks from the church. By now, they should be in position. Trev in the bell tower—with the best ear protection money can buy—and Austin at the other end of the street.
“They’ll be at the church in fifteen minutes. Max.”
I pull out my phone and launch one of the half-dozen apps Zephyr and the rest of the team sent us overnight. The wheel on screen spins for a full thirty seconds, and then turns green. No one’s listening in on us. Yet.
Standing at the fringes of the crowd, I pull a large Bluetooth earbud and hook it over my ear before pulling up my text app.
Leo: Hey, shithead. If I don’t talk to Domina in the next ten minutes, I walk.
I pat my jacket pocket, then my hip. I have enough weapons strapped to my body to take down a small army, but none of them will do me a damn bit of good if I can’t get to Domina in time.
Carefully, I make my way closer to the large, squat building the church uses for bible study and community events. Dozens of National Police in full riot gear patrol the area. If the tinted glasses and the fake cast on my arm don’t disguise me enough, shit could go sideways in a hurry.
My phone rings, sending my heart shooting into my throat.
Incoming video call.
It’s not from Domina’s phone. That would be too simple. Tapping a button on my watch—launching the app that Zephyr and Royce developed to speed up cellular triangulation—I answer.
“Domina!” Fuck, fuck, fuck. She’s terrified. Wind whips her hair, and she’s pressed against a thin expanse of unfinished wood. A man grips her right arm, but to her left…there’s nothing but sky behind her.
“Leo?” Her voice trembles. Tears spill onto her cheeks, glistening in the sun. “Please…don’t do this.”
The asshole at her side gives her arm a hard shake, and she yelps until he pushes her back against the wood. Oh, God. He’s not wearing a mask. She’s seen his face. She’s seen all their faces.
“I have to. If there’s a chance they’ll let you go, I’ll do anything.”
“No, no, no,” she cries. “Not this. You said you wanted something real. You can still have that. Just…not with me. Walk away and—”
“Domina, look at me.” I hold the phone closer, moving back to the edge of the crowd so it’s quieter. “When this is all over, I want you to go somewhere to see the stars. Can you do that for me, baby? Try that bar we found the other day. Remember the one?”
“The…bar?” She’s so confused, and I squint at the phone. Her eyes are cloudy, almost unfocused. Shit. I’m going to lose her if I can’t make her understand.
“Yes, baby. The bar where we saw all those stars. You can find that, can’t you?”
Please, Domina. Put it together. Stars and Bars. Austin.
“Y-yes. I…I think so. The one…with Superman on the wall…”
Thank fuck. She remembered Trev’s code name.
“Good.” In my ear, Zephyr tells me Cortez’s motorcade is less than ten minutes out. “Domina? Fuck. I have to go soon.”
It doesn’t matter that we have a plan. That Zephyr’s tracing the call. That we have five people in Seattle trying to match the view behind Domina to a location if the trace fails. That Dax worked a goddamn miracle with his contacts. Or that there’s no fucking way I’m going to murder the future President of Panama when I know I could lose Domina anyway.
The lump in my throat is the size of the moon, and tears burn my eyes. “This isn’t how I wanted it to go. I’d do anything to be able to hold you right now, but I can’t.”
On screen, she sobs so hard I’m terrified she’s going to fall. If it weren’t for that asshole holding her, she’d already be dead.
“I love you, Domina. What we had…it was real. It was everything.”
“L-love…you…too.” Someone yanks the phone away, and she screams, “Leo!”
A second later, a man snaps, “Shut up before I let you go.”
The idiot holding her is American.
Daniel Pinzon’s face fills the screen, and I want to punch all his teeth out for his gleeful smile. “If you or your friends even try to get to her, she dies.” He turns the camera to show me the street below. They’re so high, she’d never survive a fall. Panning back up, he focuses on Domina’s feet. Her scuffed heels. The narrow window ledge. The zip tie around her ankles. How much she’s shaking.
“This building is empty. We will know if anyone tries to break in. And then she will fall.”
“Listen, shithead—I know that’s your boss’s name, but it fits you too—if she dies, you better run as far and as fast as you can, because I have friends. Friends who will never stop looking for you. And when they find you, they’ll have a contest to see which one of them can carve you into the smallest pieces possible, and how long they can keep you alive while they do it.”
“Watch it,” Austin warns. “Don’t give that idiot an excuse to drop her.”
Pinzon just laughs. “Better work fast. Time is running out.” He flips the camera once more to show a full body shot of Domina on the ledge. The American hides behind the wall, forcing Domina a few inches from the side of the window. Her entire body shakes. A zip tie binds her wrists. She’s completely helpless up there. Nowhere she can go but down.
Before I can say “I love you” one last time, the call drops.
“Shithead gave us everything,” I hiss. “Tell me you have her location.” Dropping the Bluetooth on the ground, I crush it with my boot. The less tech on me that didn’t come from my team, the better.
“Two blocks south, one block east,” Trev answers. “Got eyes on her from the bell tower. The door’s blocked. There’s a third man in the room with an AR-15 trained on her. But he’s in my sights. The other two…”
Ryker McCabe cuts in to our comms channel. “Pinzon—fucking coward— is hiding behind a tool chest, and the other one—some former CIA pissant named Charles Thomas—is pressed so tight against the wall, the only part of him exposed is his arm. Not even Inara could guarantee kills with how they’re positioned.”
And if we try, Domina could fall. Will fall.
