The Edge of Trust: Team Edge (28 page)

“Local police don’t hassle them?”

Jake shrugged.  “They used to.  After enough of their men died, read that as murdered, the locals gave up and took the money Sanchez so generously offered for their silence, if not their cooperation.”

“So, how do I find this place, exactly?”

“Head due west.  Once you come to an old, crumbling mission outside the city, you’ll see a rather large statue of Saint Francis.  At that point, there’s going to be a Y in the road, and you’ll want to go right.  About nine klicks from there, you’ll see a small lake on the left.  Two klicks past that, you’ll hit a one lane bridge.  Four more klicks and you’ll see the farmhouse and fields off to your left.”

Dillon nodded his thanks and turned in his seat to face Sara.  “After I get Ellie and Matt, I’ll meet you back in San Diego.  Two days, tops.  I promise.”

Sara’s raised eyebrows lowered into a frown.  “How can you promise something like that?  How do you know Sanchez won’t just take the flash drive and then kill you?”

“I’ll make him a deal he can’t refuse.”  Like holding a gun to his forehead.  Bullets had the tendency to make even strong men weak, he just hoped like hell he got that close.  And then, because Sara looked like she was going to erupt into a mountain of either tears or disputes, he added, “Look, dealing with murderers and drug dealers is part of my job description.  I’ll be fine.  Matt and Ellie will be fine.  Piece of cake.”

Jake snorted a laugh and chimed in, “Right under ‘General Duties’, our job description specifically says ‘fight terrorists, pose for recruiting posters, deal with murderers and drug cartels’.  It’s one of those things we’re obligated to do.”

Dillon half smiled at Jake’s attempt to lighten things up, then turned back to Sara.  “Don’t worry, I’ll make it happen.  And when I do, you won’t ever have to worry about Sanchez again.  I swear it.”  Reaching behind him over the seat, he angled her chin up, saw how hard she was fighting back tears, and sighed.  He forced himself not to pull her into his arms.  Once again, no time.  

He turned back to Jake, annoyed, frustrated.  He
would
be back.  He
would
save Matt and Ellie.  “Where’s a good place for me to drop you?”

“This is a fairly seedy part of town and a good place to hide.  There’s a hotel just down the street.  We can walk it in less than five minutes.”

The three of them got out of the car, and after handing Sara’s duffel bag over to Jake, Dillon pulled Sara to him for a quick hug and kissed her on the forehead. 

Then he got back into the car and drove off without looking back.  For now, at least Sara was safe. 

<><><>

Twenty minutes later and, lo and behold, there sat the farmhouse off to the left just where Jake said it would be. 

This section of the old road traversed a low hill that would have afforded a decent view of the next mile or so if hadn’t been so dark.  Unfortunately, the way the clouds were blocking the moon, dark took on a whole new meaning, so he rolled to a silent stop under a copse of trees and grabbed a Starlight scope out of his bag. 

About three hundred yards in the distance, a weather-beaten house stood watch in front of a fairly large barn, and since the only other building was a ramshackle chicken coop, the barn had to be where Sanchez and his men stored the Piper.  To make things even more obvious, there was a worn strip of land behind the barn with a faded windsock at one end, and like some twisted
Got Milk
commercial, it screamed, “Got drugs?  Land here.” 

If he wasn’t in such a hurry, messing with these morons might be fun.  Except he was in a hurry, so he zeroed in on the house, and wondered how hard it was going to be to get past three guys guarding an airplane and dirt landing strip.  Normally, snatching a small plane would be a snap, but he had a feeling Sanchez had sent out little red warning flags to everyone in his command, and the last thing Dillon wanted was to get busted, or shot, before he ever got airborne.

A single guard sat on the house’s dilapidated front porch with his chair tipped back against the wall.  The guard seemed at least semi-alert and had an assault weapon lying across his lap. 

Through the drizzle, Dillon slowly scanned a low stone wall that snaked around the small farm’s perimeter.  A rusted-out tractor sat abandoned and knee deep in weeds, but other than that, and a newer model Mustang parked off to the side of the house, there wasn’t much else to see.

He set the scope on top of the duffel bag, moved the sedan further off the road, down a slight incline where the vegetation was more dense and debated whether or not he needed to take the duffle with him. 

Probably not yet.  Better to see what he was up against first. 

He grabbed the loaded nine-millimeter and jammed it into the back waistband of his pants.  Two extra clips went into both leg pockets, and satisfied that he was ready, he switched off the ignition and stepped out. 

Over the wall and through the weeds, off to Grandmother’s house we go.

After he made his way through the empty chicken coop, he stopped to take one last look at the house.  From an open window, Latino music drifted into the night, the kind that made him think of dim bars and stale smoke.  The kind of music that had been blaring from the cantina where he’d left Sara just minutes before.

Jake would probably keep her in Mexico overnight, then get her tucked safely away on base in San Diego where hopefully Dillon would be able to join her in a day or two. 

And then what? 

Yeah, Romeo, and then what?

“Walk away from her now, Dillon.  Put her in custody.  WitSec, a safe house.  She’s as good as dead if she’s with you.”

Witness protection, he supposed.  And then...well, then he’d say good-bye.  He’d make sure she was safe, maybe in another state, or maybe even in California.  He’d get her and Ellie set up in a good neighborhood, in a comfortable house and then he’d walk away. 

Except, damn it, he couldn’t wrap his mind around walking away from Sara.  Or his kid.  Hell, he couldn’t even imagine
having
a kid.  Especially a six-month-old daughter he hadn’t even met yet.  The fact that Sanchez, the man who he most hated, who he most wanted dead, had his child at this very moment, made him want to draw blood. 

It also made him cold, somewhere deep down inside, in a place he normally kept under tight control, rigidly leashed, and that cold blossomed until Dillon’s mind grew icy and dark.

He would walk away.  He had to. 

And then it hit him.  He didn’t even have a choice.  He was, after all, a felon now.  He could very well spend the rest of his life in prison.

But, he was, by God, going to get Sanchez first.

Blending into the shadows, shoving fear and fury aside, Dillon made it across the side yard without the guard on the front porch noticing him and then crouched under the kitchen window.  He raised himself up just enough to peer inside the lower left corner of the screen.

Two guards sat at a scarred pine table playing cards and guzzling beer.  Their automatic weapons had been casually placed on a side table and not within easy reach.  He listened for a moment, waiting to see if he could tell just how drunk they actually were.  Drunks made stupid mistakes, the kind of mistakes that could get everyone in the place killed.

The two men sounded pretty much like most guys who sat around playing cards and getting blitzed.  They bluffed, they bragged, and they shot the bull.  One complained about his wife, the other bragged about his girlfriend.  They both agreed their jobs were cush, and they laughed at the ridiculously high salary Sanchez was paying them.   

He crouched in the shadows for another few minutes before he moved silently toward the back door, opened it, eased in. 

And came nose to nose with the business end of a pistol.

<><><>

Jake and Sara had just checked in to a squalid dive masquerading as a motel and it was all Sara could do not to swagger.  She had a secret and, sure she felt a little smug, a lot guilty, but she had the one thing she knew was going to get her out of here.  Fast.  Whether Jake liked it or not.

No way was she going to let Dillon save her, save her brother and her baby, or face Sanchez alone.  Besides, she still wasn’t quite sure she trusted Dillon not to kill Matt on sight.  He looked more like Manny Vega the drug runner than Matt Jackson the doctor of archaeology Dillon knew. 

Besides, fair was fair. 

No matter how much Dillon wanted Sanchez, it wasn’t fair that Dillon should do this alone.  It wasn’t fair that he should do this for her.  And God forbid, it surely wasn’t fair that he might even die.  If anything happened to him or Ellie or Matt, then she should be there.  She needed to be there.  At least
trying
to help.  Somehow.

If Jake and Dillon wanted to call her too stupid to live, fine.  So what.  But to her way of thinking an extra set of eyes and ears could only help, and hey, if she had to, she could sure as hell shoot a gun. 

She hated getting Jake in trouble with Dillon, heck she didn’t want to get on Dillon’s bad side either, but it wasn’t as though she was exactly on his good side anyway.  So, tough.  She had to leave, now, before Dillon got on that airplane. 

But now that it was time to get the ball rolling, her palms started to sweat.  Making Jake crazy mad was not going to be her idea of fun.

Sitting on the side of one of the double beds, she took a deep breath and tried her first approach.  “I don’t suppose there’s any way you’d take me out to that airplane?”

Jake was sitting at a small square table, the kind made especially for cheap motels, thumbing through a magazine.  He snorted at her question.  Didn’t bother looking up, didn’t even say no, just snorted his answer like a cheap whoopee cushion.     

“What if Dillon’s in danger?”

Jake gave her a quick glance, kept thumbing.  “He probably is.”

“Then he needs our help.”

“He’s the best at what he does, Sara.  He doesn’t need anybody’s help.” 
Flip.  Flip.

She took an even deeper breath, thought, oh boy, here we go, and said, “But he’ll need this.”  And she slipped the silver flash drive out of her hip pocket and held it in the air.

That got his attention.  The magazine sailed off the table, the chair flew backward and his face turned white, then a terrible shade of red.  “What the
hell
are you doing with that!”

“I took it out of Dillon’s duffel bag.”

“Yes, I see that, but the question is,
why
?”

“Don’t you dare get an attitude with me, Jake Kincaid!  That’s my child out there too!  And my brother!”

“So I heard.  I’ll offer all kinds of major congratulations on the new baby once this is over.  Now hand me that thumb drive.”

She tucked the small rectangle into her pocket.  “No.”

Jake’s face became thunderous.  “Dammit, Sara!  This is serious!”

“You think I don’t know that?”  She folded her arms across her chest.  “Shouldn’t we hurry before he’s airborne?”

“There is no we, there’s me.  And thanks to you, now I’m going to have to--”

“--I have to go, too!”

“Like hell you are.”

“Like hell I’m not!”  She jumped off the bed and stalked toward him.  “Look, I’m his wife.  He’s doing this for me.  For my brother.  Our child.  I have to go.  Can’t you see that?”

He’s doing this for vengeance.  To get Sanchez.  You’re just his ticket. 

But was she?  Really? 

The second Jake’s eyes flickered, she pounced, “If you leave me here and Sanchez or his men find me, even if the cops find me, and if anything happens to me, anything at all, you’ll have it on your conscience and Dillon will never forgive you.  Is that what you want?”

Jake studied her for a long minute, considered the situation, then advanced toward her, backing her up, not stopping until she plopped butt first onto the bed.  “I ought to turn you over my knee.  Or tie you up and let you take your damn chances.”  He turned, snatched his gun off the small table and tucked it into the back of his jeans.  “You
will
stay in the car.  If
you
get killed trying to help him with some stupidly heroic deed, he’ll have to live with that, or he’ll die trying to save you.  Is that what
you
want?”

She didn’t say anything, just shook her head.  This was the part where she backed down and did everything he told her to do.  The important thing right now what that she was going to help Dillon.

Grabbing her hand, Jake pulled her behind him out of the motel and down the street to the cantina’s parking lot.  After checking three cars, he finally came to a truck that wasn’t locked.  “Keep an eye out while I hotwire this thing.”

Jake had the truck running and headed due west less than two minutes later. 

“Do you think he’s okay?”

He glanced at her sideways.  “I’m sure he’s fine.  He’s too damn good to get bushwhacked and too damn mean to die.” 

By the time they’d rounded the hilltop just in front of the farm, Sara was a mass of nerves.  Maybe she’d made a mistake.  Maybe a woman in a man’s world was a bad idea.  Maybe she’d freak at the wrong time and get someone shot. 

Or, maybe she wouldn’t.  Maybe she’d help.

Jake pulled in next to the grey sedan and turned in his seat.  “Do not leave this truck.  You’re going to stay here and keep an eye on the road.” 

He was obviously waiting for her to nod, so she did. 

“If you see someone coming toward the house, flash the headlights.  And if you see something more urgent, shoot this three times in the air.”  He pulled his pistol from the waistband of his jeans and handed it to her.  “You ever shoot a gun?”

She looked at the weapon, checked the clip.  “Glock nine-millimeter.  No problem.  I prefer a Smith and Wesson .357, but that’s just me.” 

<><><>

Jake raised his eyebrows and nodded.  “Good to know.”  He gave Sara a thumbs up, took the flash drive she was holding, closed the door quietly behind him, and hurried over to the sedan.  After searching in Dillon’s duffel bag, he pulled out a beat up Uzi, several clips of ammo, and a couple of grenades.  Glancing off in the distance, he couldn’t tell if the barn doors were open or closed, and prayed Dillon hadn’t left yet.