Mexican Heat (Nick Woods Book 2) (19 page)

Chapter
21

Nick
Woods and his team members weren’t the only ones upset about the tape.

Juan Soto
and President Rivera were having another meeting, though this one was in a
conference room with just the two of them, and this one was much less pleasant
than their most recent congratulatory visit after the raid on the cathedral.
There’d be no drinks lifted in this one, both men knew.

They’d
already been arguing back and forth for five minutes and both were to their
breaking point, since neither was usually challenged in their respective
organizations.

“This is
a catastrophe,” Soto said. He’d already said it several times, but he was
avoiding saying what he wanted to say. What he needed to say.

“I
know
it’s a catastrophe,” Rivera said, saying it much too hard.

“I tried
to support you on the Vigilante idea, but already they’ve gone too far.”

“This
wasn’t the Vigilantes themselves,” Rivera said. “I’ve confirmed that.”

“Great,”
Soto said. “So we have more than one group of them out there, operating on
their own, outside of the law. The goal was to bring the country back under the
rule of law, Roberto, not the opposite, where bands of armed citizens fight it
out against cartels and corrupt police officers. How will this lead to tourism
and future business investment? How? Just how?”

“This
wasn’t the work of citizens, Juan,” Rivera said again. “And this wasn’t the
work of the Vigilantes. It was Hernan Flores, using his own people in a strike
against our own forces. He knows he must turn the people against the
Vigilantes. Flores knows what a threat they are to him.”

“The
people don’t know that the Vigilantes didn’t do this. Don’t you see that?” Soto
said, his own voice too loud.

Rivera
turned away, his anger rising. He took a deep breath and turned toward his
friend.

“What do
you want me to do, Juan?”

“Tell the
Vigilantes to go away,” Soto said. “They’re American Special Forces, aren’t
they? Send them away. Ask America for continued assistance in weapons and
training, but that’s it. We can win this fight on our own.”

Rivera leapt
to his feet.

“We tried
to solve it on our own for five years, Juan! Have you forgotten nearly losing
our re-election bid? Or the ambush and attack on our Presidential Palace? They
assaulted and damn near took over our government headquarters. How much closer
must we let them get? They’re in our capital city and at our front gate.”

“How dare
you accuse me of forgetting,” Juan said, though he managed to keep his seat.
“It’s not your daughter who was nearly abducted.”

Both men
turned away and waited, fuming.

“I’m
sorry,” Rivera finally said.

“Don’t
apologize,” Soto answered, barely meaning it. “I didn’t mean to lose my temper
either.”

“These
are hard times,” Rivera said.

“Of
course they’re hard times,” Soto said. “When hasn’t it been hard times?”

“What do
you want me to do, Juan? Please, say what you came to say.”

“At a
minimum, bring these Americans into the fold,” Soto said. “Force them into
Mexican uniforms and under your control.”

“They
won’t do that,” Rivera said. “I’ve tried that already. They operate
independently and their leader is crazy.”

The
President of Mexico looked off at a painting from the war that gained Mexico
independence from Spain. It showed men and horses charging forward into smoke
and cannon fire. Rivera looked back at his friend.

“Juan,
they lost most of a Navy SEAL Team just a few weeks ago. They’re not going to
come in again under Mexican authority. They know we have too many leaks. And
honestly, I don’t blame them for not coming in.”

“Then ask
them to leave,” Juan said, standing as well. “And issue a warrant for Hernan
Flores’s arrest. Let’s follow the rule of law, whether Flores does or not.”

“That
won't work,” Rivera said.

“It
has
to work,” Juan said, his voice raised again.

“He will
just run the Godesto from inside. You know we barely control the prisons. Those
officers are the most corrupt we have. I haven't even tried to fix the problems
there. They’re that bad.”

“We have
to follow the law,” Juan said.

“We
haven’t followed the law in years,” Rivera said.

“Then
it’s a good time to start. Think long term, Rivera. Do we want Mexico to always
be a country that follows the rules only when it’s convenient?”

“I’ve
been more honest and ethical than any of my predecessors,” Rivera said,
defensively. “And you know that.”

“I’m
sorry,” Soto said. “You’re right. You have.”

“I’ll
think about what you have said,” Rivera said. “I may consider issuing a warrant,
and I may ask them to stop working as Vigilantes and at least put on Mexican
uniforms, but I will not ask the Americans to come in under my authority.”

Rivera
turned away and looked at a painting on the opposite wall, this one from the
Mexican-American War.

“My aide
will show you out,” he said without looking at his friend. Rivera could barely
contain his frustration.

Juan
didn’t want to leave with such a cold feeling between them. He walked up to
Rivera and put his hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“I believe
in you, brother. We must do what’s right. We must return to the purity you
campaigned on. The people believe in you, and thousands of officers do as well.
Give them something to believe in. Issue a warrant, go public with a big
reward, and arrest this man.”

Rivera
nodded, but refused to look back at his friend. Juan Soto patted his friend on
the shoulder again and exited the room, feeling unhappy about how the
conversation had gone down, but hopeful about the possible outcome.

Chapter
22

President
Roberto Rivera strode up to the lectern. He approached it in a rehearsed walk
that his advisors believed displayed grave seriousness, with just a touch of
confidence. Cameras flashed. Every network station not already broadcasting his
arrival cut from their regular programming to the show the Presidential press
conference.

Rivera
reached the microphone and stood tall, staring out at the media horde with his
head held high and his chin up. It was his most assured look and advisors,
focus groups, and women -- that most important demographic of all -- claimed
the stance was their favorite. It was his display of command and it donned
posters, websites, and billboards. Rivera practiced it often and he nailed the
position again on this day, holding it for long second before beginning.

“I come
before the Mexican people today to make an important declaration.

“When I
decided to run for President, a single issue compelled my candidacy: crime.
Specifically, cartel violence, since it is the root of most crime. Cartel money
and influence leads to untold amounts of violence against the Mexican state and
Mexican people.

“I made
reducing this plague against our country my number one goal during my campaign
-- no matter the cost -- and you, the Mexican people, saw fit to elect me to
right this wrong. We spent the better part of my first four years cleaning out
our government offices of those who were corrupt, weak, and without morals. The
cartels had informants that ran the gamut from our police departments to our
military units to our judicial courts. My government could literally make no
move without the cartels being two steps ahead. Sometimes three.

“But
despite the limited success of those first four years, you, the people, placed
great faith in me. You, the people, saw fit to re-elect me, despite a strong
opponent running against me on the precisely opposite platform. My opponent ran
on peace and I ran on war, but this is a war that I maintain we must fight.
It’s a war we must win. My re-election platform, just like my initial election
platform, was for a single cause: to right this wrong.

“I have
focused on the dangers posed by cartels every single day of my presidency, and
it is with great pride that I say today that we are announcing our biggest blow
to our enemies yet. This case will prove to be a major strike against the
cartels that threaten both our government and our way of life.

“As we
speak, officers from the Attorney General's office are filing charges against
businessman and philanthropist Hernan Flores. While I know many of you may be
shocked to hear this news, we have clear and convincing proof that Flores is
the lead man of the largest cartel in Mexico. The Godesto Cartel.

“The
Mexican Attorney General will step out in a moment to lay out all the charges
against him, and I assure you they are many. They range from
treason
to murder. More than three hundred of
them, actually. Yes. I mean three hundred murders.

“I know
Flores has always maintained his innocence. To him, I would say that if you are
truly innocent, then come forward and stand trial. You will have the
opportunity to prove your innocence. You will have a chance to clear your name
once and for all.

“Unfortunately,
I feel confident that Flores will not stand trial. I think Flores will react
differently, and I think his actions to this news will confirm what we in the
government have known for years: Flores is no philanthropist or business
leader. He’s a maniac who threatens the very existence of what we hold dear.

“In fact,
we think he will either go on the run or hide out. Therefore, the Attorney
General and I have agreed that setting a reward for information on his
whereabouts is appropriate. Thus, the government of the Mexican people is
offering a $10 million reward for anyone that has information that helps lead
to his arrest.

“Now with
that, let me allow my Attorney General to share with you a detailed
presentation against Hernan Flores and answer any questions you may have.”

President
Roberto Rivera stood tall again, raised his head, and allowed the photographers
present to snap some final shots. He then turned and walked away, shaking hands
with his Attorney General as the man approached the lectern.

Rivera
mentally congratulated himself for nailing the press conference. Juan Soto
would be pleased, and actually saying the words -- and doing what the law
required -- felt immensely rewarding. And right.

Soto had
been correct about following the rule of law, and Rivera felt so much better
now that he had decided to recommit himself to that rule of law. Part one of
his deal with his billionaire friend was over. He had issued an arrest warrant
and was now on the way down the road to incarcerating him.

Part two
might be more difficult. How was he to tell the Americans he had changed his
mind? That he no longer wanted them in his country, risking their lives, as
Vigilantes? He would have to put some thought into how to do this. It wouldn’t
be simple.

Back at
the farm where Nick’s unit was based, Isabella received a text from a friend
with a news station about an upcoming press conference involving the President.
She set out to alert Nick.

As she
walked down the hall to pass along the news, she secretly hoped Nick would be
alone in his office.

Things
had changed. Nick had grown softer with her, and she had finally understood his
gruff behavior was a means to keep her at a distance.

She then
had a better idea and stopped, heading back to her room. Inside her room, she
took off a loose, button-up dress shirt, which she liked but which was too
conservative for what she now envisioned. The button-up dress shirt was good
for wearing around the men, who were always ogling her, but not the right top
for what she had in mind with this opportunity -- a rare chance to be alone
with Nick, in a room with no spectators, and with luck, no Marcus.

She
looked at her thin, toned body in the mirror, then hung the shirt on a hanger
and put it in the closet. She pulled a small, white knit shirt from a dresser
drawer and wrenched the shirt on, tugging out the wrinkles -- it was definitely
tight.

She
glanced in the mirror again and saw her figure highlighted by the tight shirt,
and her upper arms showing as well, below the short sleeves.

She
smiled, opened the door, and stepped off for Nick’s office. She rushed down the
hall and thankfully avoided any of the men. She took a deep breath and knocked
on the door.

Nick
Woods was in the middle of his fifth set of pull-ups. He had asked some of the
men to find the studs and install a pull-up bar shortly after they moved into
the farm. He was on his thirteenth rep of the fifth set when someone knocked on
the door.

“Hang
on,” he yelled, then eked out two more. He dropped to the floor and flexed his
hands -- his hands bothered him as much on pull-ups as his arms did. It was
just a lot of weight to put on one’s hands, and the sheer mass of your body
prevented any blood flow from reaching the ends of the fingers.

Nick
slapped his hands together a few times and in his command voice said, “Come
in.”

The door
opened and Isabella stood there. She wore a tight-fitting white top and her
typically tight blue jeans.

“I’m
sorry to interrupt,” she said, “and I should have found a different top to
throw on,” she added, putting her hands in front of her breasts. “I was in the
middle of exercising when I got some important news that I wanted to get to you
as quickly as I could,” Isabella said, crossing her arms in front of her.

The shirt
was so tight that Nick could make out the curve of her breasts. He wiped his
arm across his forehead and said, “I understand. I was doing the same.” He
nodded back to the pull-up bar.

She
smiled, a bit too wide, and Nick saw her perfect, white teeth. He hated how much
he enjoyed her being in the room like this. He broke his eyes away and looked
down, noticing he wore a pair of shorts and a tight T-shirt that wrapped around
his chest and arms tighter than he remembered.

“I
guess,” he said, pointing down to his clothing, “as long as you don’t mind, I
don’t mind.”

“I don’t
mind,” she said, quickly. She closed the door and walked toward him.

“What’s
the news?” he asked, fully aware that the door was closed and she now stood
mere feet away.

“A media
contact of mine texted me to say the President would be holding a press
conference in,” she looked down at her watch, and Nick couldn’t miss her breast
moving when she did, “about forty-five minutes.”

“Do we
know what it’s about?”

“We
don’t,” Isabella said. “But I asked my contact to let me know the minute she
finds out. Yet, as she said, this is an unscheduled press conference. With the
President. It’ll be a big deal.”

“We
should round up the Strike Team pulled together and watch it together.”

“Agreed,”
she said, turning to leave.

“Isabella?”

She
stopped.

He
hesitated. “Uh, thanks for getting me the news so quickly.”

She
smiled. “Was there anything else?” she asked, raising her eyebrows
provocatively.

Nick
stood there like an idiot. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. He’d never dated
a Latina woman; had barely even been around many in the backwater part of East
Tennessee where he’d been raised. But her bronze skin, full hips, and nice
breasts were a sight he didn’t want to forget. She most certainly
was
more
than just a set of deep brown eyes, which she’d proved more than once. But,
this? This he had never seen. Never even imagined.

Nick
looked down, embarrassed.

“It’s all
right,” she said.

He looked
up at her, hating that she had so perfectly followed his eyes. And worse, his
thoughts.

“Sorry,”
he said. “It’s just been a while since I’ve been around many women. Spent a lot
of time alone in Montana after I lost my wife.”

“I know,”
she said, walking toward him. “Marcus told me your story. You’re quite famous.
And really heroic.”

“I just
did what any man would do who saw his wife gunned down. And while my story is
famous, my face isn’t. Allen Green made sure no photos were ever published of
me in his book and on all those interviews.”

“Well,”
Isabella said, dropping her eyes down his body, “if they had published any
pictures of you, then you’d have been much more famous than you already are.”

Nick
tried to ignore her looks.

“Well,
long while or not since I’ve seen a good looking woman, it still ain’t right,
me being a commander and all, looking at a person in his unit like that. They
call that fraternization in the American military. Strictly against the rules.”

“It’s
okay,” Isabella said.

Nick
turned from her.

“Ever
since my wife died, I just --” He shook his head. “Well, I tried to get away
from it all by living in Montana, but then learned that I needed to re-emerge
and be a part of society or I would go crazy.” He stopped and looked back at
her. “I just.” He paused. “I try not to --”

Isabella
raised her eyebrows with a slight smile.

He shook
his head with a laugh. “I try not to even notice them. I stupidly thought that
if I threw myself hard enough into duty, I could forget about them for good.”

“Can’t
live with us, can’t live without us,” Isabella said, crossing her arms and shrugging,
moving her breasts in a way that Nick felt confident was no accident.

“Right,”
Nick said, turning away again. He felt himself blushing. He swallowed, tried to
regain control, and faced her again. “Thanks again for the news and call
together the team,” he said, back in his typical Nick voice.

She was
looking at him again. Her eyes dropped from his face down to his chest. They
didn’t stop there.

Nick
stepped back. If he could have gotten behind a desk without looking like a
coward, he would have.

“Sorry I
made all this get weird,” Nick said, taking yet another step back and putting
his hands on his hips. He felt more in control now, the danger averted.

“We can’t
have this in a unit,” he said, his voice deeper and more like the voice he was
familiar with. “We need to pretend this didn’t happen.” He made the last
statement definitive.

“Or we
can acknowledge that it did,” she said, stepping toward him. She walked up and
placed her hand on his forearm.

Nick
stepped back, taken aback by her aggressiveness, and wondered how he’d never
noticed her signals before. Perhaps he’d been too much of an ass, trying to
treat her like the men. Somehow, he had missed the clues. 

“I’m not
ready for this,” he said, but he didn’t yank his forearm back. Her hand felt
too
good. “I just need you to understand that it’s been hard for me to get over
Anne.”