Cold Day In Hell (21 page)

She lifted her head and rolled her long mane around her hand, shoving it to the back of her head. He watched for a reaction in her eyes, a tinge of sorrow but found none.

A smile lifted the corners of her mouth. "That's better. Now maybe I can see the wheels I felt spinning in your head. I'm not sorry, if that's what you were wondering."

"Me either," Ty said, unable to hold back a grin. "And it had crossed my mind."

"I'll be fine when this mission is over."

There. He saw the flicker, or had he imagined seeing a lie hidden behind those warm, sparkling eyes?

"You're a damn sight better than 'fine.' You're spectacular. Beautiful. Brave. Smart. Want me to go on?"

"You made me feel all those things." Her tongue slid across her bottom lip. "And I appreciate it."

"Your gratitude is not what I want," he teased. With her, joking felt right.

Pink and swollen from his all-out assault, her lips were too inviting, so he kissed her, reveling in how she leaned into him for deeper contact. Her tongue sliding inside his mouth sent an immediate reaction south. Jesus, he was already hard as steel.

First, he had a question to ask. "Who ordered the hit on your birth parents?"

Her expression tightened. "Ortega's father. He died years ago."

Her eyes narrowed, darkened not with lust, but with hate. Her hand covered the scar between her breasts.

"Too bad he's already dead."

"He was too high up in the cartel to get his hands bloody, but he had someone skilled with the knife, someone who enjoyed cutting people."

Son of a bitch. That someone had been Manuel. Her statement hit Ty like a brick building landing on his head. Anger boiled like rolling lava. His chest ached. His hands curled into fists with the need to kill. How could he have been so stupid not to have figured it out?

"Why didn't you tell me Ortega personally did this?" He rested his hand between her breasts.

"It's hard to talk about him rationally. In my head, I still hear his laughter when Papa begged him to spare my mother and me."

A knock on the door sent both of them to their feet. Shit. He should have never left his Beretta in the other room. Ana caught him by the arm and pressed something cool against his palm.

The second knock stopped him from asking where she'd gotten the Glock. He turned to motion her back to find she'd already retreated and was dressing.

Smart enough not to stand directly behind the peephole, he stood to the side of the window and inched back the curtain. From the looks of the young man holding a cardboard box, he was a local.

"I don't see a gun. Come look. See if you know him." Ty slipped on his jeans, glad she'd brought them to him.

"No," Ana said, after taking his place behind the curtain. "What are you going to do?"

"Tell him to hang on a second. Finish dressing then open the door wide, but step back a couple of feet."

"You want him inside?"

"It's the only way we'll find out who he is."

Chapter Seventeen

Ana did her best to keep her voice steady as she called out, "One minute," then changed it to, "
Un minuto, por favor
."

She and Ty finished dressing in silence. The muscles in his arms rippled as he slid his shirt on, reminding her that their beautiful evening had ended. Would there ever be another time to share such intimacy with him?

His tenderness had touched her soul, but perhaps this was a fitting end to their evening together. There would always be an outside distraction for them both.

"I'm ready." She mouthed the words.

Ty stood to the side, out of sight, and nodded. She removed the chain, flipped the lock, and then swung the door back. He reached out and jerked the kid inside. Ty had moved like lightning. So fast, she wasn't exactly sure how it had happened.

Maybe in his early twenties, the kid stumbled forward. His eyes went wide when he saw the gun pointed at his head. Was that relief on his face when he saw her? Immediately, he spit out a rapid-fire string of Spanish. 

"Wait," Ana shouted over the barrage of words.

Ty didn't lower the gun. "What did he say?"

"He says he was told to deliver the box to me. It contains weapons bought off the black market."

Ty kept the pistol pointed at the man. "Tell him to put the box on the table and talk slow, so I can understand him."

"Maybe my uncle sent them," Ana suggested.

The man complied with her instructions, never once showing a hint of alarm. Ty was much taller and more intimidating, but men in her country seemed to grow up hard. They feared little.

Ty pulled the box open. "Tell him I appreciate the grenades, but give him your number. We need a heads-up next time."

Panic rose high in her throat. "My uncle has my number." She hoped the stranger really didn't understand English.

By the slight stiffening of Ty's shoulders, she knew he understood what she meant. No one except Ortega would have the nerve to attack so boldly, but how had he known where to find her?

The smaller man pulled a knife and lunged. He jumped behind her and wrapped his forearm around her neck, waving the blade in front of her face. She grabbed his arm, fighting for air, and gasped in a lungful when he loosened his hold.

Ty's gun was aimed straight at the man's head.

"Let her go." Ty took a small step closer. The simmering anger in his tone filled the room.

"She goes with me," the intruder said in broken English.

"The lady's not going anywhere."

"Then she dies here."

"Hurt her and I will kill you."

Ty's words were so matter of fact, so chilling, that the man's body tensed, and he tightened his choke hold. He took a step toward the door, dragging her by the neck. She had to help Ty help her. Could she give Ty an edge? Dare she take a chance?

She dropped her arms, buckled her knees, and went limp as a rag against the arm at her throat, cutting off all air.

"
Puta
," he muttered, stumbling sideways.

Ty moved like a sleek black panther. In one second he stood across the room. With the time it took to blink, he had the intruder in his grasp. The two men struggled. Ana fell free and landed on the floor. On hands and knees, she scrambled out of the way.

A gun fired. The mirror hanging on the wall above her shattered. She ducked and covered her head as shards of glass fell. The sound of a body hitting the floor sent streaks of terror through her system. Please, God. Keep Ty safe.

The door opened and closed. She had to look. Strong hands picked her up as if she weighed nothing. She knew by his touch that Ty held her. Her heart sang with relief, even though she cried on his shoulder. He cradled her in his arms, whispering soothing words as if she were a child.

"Shh. It's over."

"You're okay?"

"You bet." He brushed her hair out of her eyes. "I checked the hall, and it's empty. But that gunshot won't go unreported. We have to be gone when the cops arrive." He tugged her chin up. "And we have to hurry."

"I understand." She reluctantly gave up the warmth and safety of his arms.

He held onto her arms. "Can you stand?"

"My knees are weak, but they'll do." Ana saw the intruder and gasped. His head lay at an odd angle. His lifeless eyes stared up at the ceiling. "You broke his neck?"

"Quietest way to do it. He won't hurt you again." Ty unlocked and opened the adjoining door. Then he repeated the process with the outside entry.

"What about his body?"

"Jack will have to square this away with your government. Do you want me to stay with you while you gather your things?"

"No." Ana shook her head, unable to pull her gaze away from the body blocking her path. "You go pack."

Ty slid his hands under the dead man's shoulders and dragged him out of the way.

"If Marcus and Jack had heard the gunshot, they'd have already been here." Ty picked up his cell and dialed a number. Without going into detail, he instructed Marcus to hurry.

"We need to be ready. The guys were at the corner bar. They'll be here in minutes."

Ana's hands shook so badly that folding anything was impossible. Giving up on neatness, she packed Ty's way. She grabbed her clothes and stuffed them in her bag. Her few toiletries were raked into her makeup bag without care.

The loud talking in the other room alerted her Marcus and Jack had returned. Marcus slid to a stop in her doorway.

"What the..." No doubt, with his training it only took a second for him to assess the situation. His eyebrows pulled together. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Ana picked up her bag. "I'm ready."

 Jack Fury looked over Marcus's shoulder. "What the fuck happened?"

"He tried to snatch Ana. You can deal with the cops through the government," Ty said to Jack. "Right?"

"This isn't going to be easy," Jack grumbled.

"Grab your stuff and meet us at the cars." Ty ignored the complaint, issuing instructions to her instead.

Marcus's eyes were full of concern as his gaze swept between her and Ty. "You're sure neither of you are hurt?"

"We're better off than he is." Ty jerked his head toward the body. "We'll take Jack's car."

"Sure." Jack tossed Ty the keys. "You drive. I've got to make some calls if I'm going to get this shit fixed."

They drove away from the motel and met two police cars with sirens blaring. Leaving had only taken a few minutes. To Ana it had seemed like an eternity.

"Now that we're fugitives, where the fuck are we going?" Jack growled from the backseat.

"Calm down," Ty fired back. "What are you along for except to grease the wheels? Dig your phone out and smooth that over. The son of a bitch tried to kill Ana."

She understood Jack's concern. Her government would frown on them leaving the scene. Listening to his phone call, she could tell he was trying to explain the dead man to his boss first.

Ana fished out her phone. "I'll call my uncle. He'll know somewhere safe we can stay."

"Will he help? He clearly didn't want to blow his cover by getting involved in this op."

Had the situation not been so dire, she might've laughed at Ty's huge sigh. He wasn't upset with her suggestion. His concern had to be the mission he'd been given.

The idea nagged at her that he and Marcus might leave her behind. They could kill Ortega and be out of the country in hours. No. She refused to consider he'd do such a thing. Not now. Not after they'd made love.

"Call him," Ty agreed. "Make sure he understands that we'll keep him out of the picture."

Marcus leaned forward, his hand on Ty's shoulder. "I hate to be the naysayer here, but what if he leaked our location to Ortega?"

The bottom of her stomach dropped. She turned in the seat to face Marcus, ensuring he understood the full measure of her anger. "Do you Americans know so little of family honor? My uncle would die before breaking my confidence."

Ty cut a glance at her. "So you did tell him where we were staying."

"Of course, I did." She fought to keep her tone level, but it seemed to be a losing battle. "And gave him my cell number."

"It's okay." Ty rested his hand on her knee. "The question had to be asked."

"Don't tell me it's okay." Anger churned from her stomach up to her throat. "Why did such an insulting thing have to be asked? He knew nothing of your so-called safe house in Texas. Yet it was bullet-riddled when we drove away from it."

"You're right," Ty said. "There's a leak, and we have to find it."

"After I call my boss, I'm calling Nate. This op is a bust." Jack's voice stopped the argument.

Ty abruptly pulled the car to the side of the road. He unbuckled his seat belt and looked back over his shoulder. Fire jumped from his eyes.

"I decide if and when we call this off. You were sent to help. So do it."

"Which is what I'm trying to do," Jack fired back.

Ty turned his head toward Marcus. "If he calls Nate, confiscate that phone."

Ana didn't hear an answer, but she had no doubt Marcus nodded.

Once back on the road, the interior of the car felt cooler.

"Go ahead and call your uncle." Ty broke the silence. "Tell him our effort at hiding in plain sight failed miserably. Ask if he can help. If he can't, tell him I understand. Either way, we have to ditch this car."

****

Manny held a finger up to silence Enrique, who looked embarrassed at not noticing the cell phone in his father's hand. "Keep me informed." He ended the call.

"Sorry, Papa. Are you coming down to eat?"

"In a minute." Manny breathed in deeply through his nose, pushing the air out in a whoosh.

"You look upset." Enrique strolled into the room, taking possession of the space.

He smiled, and Manny felt a surge of pride. Almost a man at seventeen, his son knew a great deal about the drug business. He'd been grooming the boy since birth to take over. He'd learned firsthand how to negotiate with customers and deal with those who would betray the cartel. There had been no severe punishments for every infraction or wrong answer the boy gave. Patience and practical experience were the best teachers.

Manny's memory of the back of his old man's hand was as vivid as if it had connected with his cheek yesterday. His years in the US for college had given him a taste of independence. After his return to Colombia, nobody had ever hit him again. 

"Failure upsets me."

Enrique's smile faded to a frown. "The surprise failed?"

"Yes." Manny watched his son's nostrils flare and expression turn hard. "
Mi hijo
, do not blame yourself. Your idea was sound. It was executed poorly."

"And what of Alberto?" Enrique's tone was cold and flat.

"Dead inside the motel room. His neck broken."

"As it should be. He failed." Enrique strode across the room to the balcony overlooking the outbuildings.

"I tire of the hunt, but family honor must be defended." Manny joined his son. "Word of her escape will spread. I must add resources to end this."