Twice A Target (Task Force Eagle) (26 page)

“How do you know about the black truck? How?”
Adrenaline fueled his blood, as if acid filled his veins. Everything inside him
screamed to beat it out of this guy, but he held on. He had to know the truth.

“It was in the report, maybe, or I heard it in the
office. What’s the big deal?”

“I never got a look at that truck. Once or twice a
black pickup followed me on the highway, but I never mentioned that to the
detectives.” He leaned harder on his prisoner. “Maybe it was a Circle-S truck.
Maybe it was you.”

“You’re crazy! Why the hell would I sit here with you
if I was involved in this business?”

The rage died as cold reason and memory returned. Luke
had an alibi for yesterday’s attempt on Maddy. And that morning a week ago,
he’d been on duty, driving an official department vehicle in another part of
the county.

Holt sat back and released Luke. “I believe you,
Rafferty. Had to be sure. I apologize.”

“It’s okay, man. I understand.” Luke rotated his
shoulder, then sat up, brushing dirt and pine needles from his chin and jacket.

“The black truck. It’s the key. Who told you?” Holt
subsided into his former position. He glanced down the trail. At what he saw,
the blood froze in his veins. He had to act fast. “Think, Luke. I see who’s
coming up the mountain, and it’s not fucking El Águila.”

Chapter 26

Maddy’s hands were icy beneath a layer of sweat. The
demons had awoken, and this time they wore spurs. She should’ve brought the
freaking pills with her. Every step the smooth-gaited mare took over the rough
slope ripped agony through her torso.

Holding the reins took all her strength, all her
focus. She had to trust the horse. “Good girl, Chica. Just keep going up this
damn hill.”

She glanced at her watch. Nearly nine.

She had to make it in time. Had to. Spasms clutched at
her chest, making her breathing shallower than did the pain.

Bobby, where are you? Are you all right?
If she
focused on him, she could do it.

The mare brought her over the last rise, and the mine
entrance lay ahead. All was quiet and undisturbed. Not even bird twitters
drifted to her ears. She imagined hunting rifles and assault rifles and RPGs
aimed at her from every rock and tree and shed. Ice-edged shards scraped up and
down her spine.

But she saw no sign of Holt and Luke and the agents.
They were supposed to be surrounding the place. Nor did she see El Águila’s man
or men.

And where was Bobby?

She urged the mare onward.

*****

He removed the black metal components from the small
backpack. So easy a child could do it. Not quite. But after he snapped and rotated
the parts together, the powerful sniper rifle was ready. He attached the
telescopic sight and inserted the bullet.

He’d have time for only one.

If he screwed up this time, he’d be chewing dirt from
six feet under. If she didn’t come, he didn’t know what that crazy Mexican
would do. He’d seen eyes like that before, not alert and piercing like the
hunting bird the man was named for, but flat and emotionless like a damned
shark’s.

He knew death waited behind them. His death.

Donovan had warned her away, but she would come. She
was one tough cookie. And she loved that baby.

He counted on it.

Guilt nibbled at the edges of his brain, but he shoved
it away. His own life was on the line. He had no choice.

The clatter of stones pricked up his ears. A kick of
adrenaline set his heart racing like a formula engine. Willing his hands
steady, he raised the rifle and adjusted the sight.

*****

Holt sidled bent over around the clump of rocks. He
could see no movement behind the boulder that was his target. Luke should be in
position and ready. He stretched up enough to view the trail.

Maddy sat stiffly, pale as ashes. She gripped the
saddle horn as Chica picked her way along the rough trail.

Oh, God, she must be in terrible pain.
Fear and
pride and—in spite of himself—love roiled in his bloodstream. Dammit, he should
have known she wouldn’t fucking listen.

He checked his watch. Time to make their move.

Side arms drawn, Holt and Luke dove in tandem around
either side of the boulder.

Nobody.

Frustration knotted Holt’s gut. He wanted to punch
someone. “Where did the fucking son of a bitch go?”

Luke squatted down and peered at the ground. He
pointed to fresh digs in the hard soil, scrabbled pebbles a few feet farther
uphill. “Up there,” he whispered. “About thirty feet. The two boulders close
together.”

“Keep low and keep quiet. Maybe he won’t spot us. Same
drill.” Holt waved Luke around to the other side of their quarry. They had to
make it in time. They had to stop him before he could fire.

Holt crept uphill, placing his booted feet on hummocks
of greening grass to minimize the sound. From the corner of his eye, he spotted
Luke doing the same.

A few more steps took him to the lower side of the
smaller boulder. He slipped the safety off his SIG. Crouching low, he edged
along its perimeter until he could see his man.

The shooter knelt between the two rocks with the
powerful rifle aimed at the trail.

At Maddy.

No time to wait for Luke. “Freeze, Foley. You fire
that gun and you’re a dead man.”

“
NO
!” The sheriff swung the sniper barrel
toward Holt. He started to push to his feet.

Holt lunged forward and tackled the off-balance man.
He hit him square in the numbers.

Luke snatched the rifle from Foley’s hand as the two
slammed to the rocky ground.

Foley grabbed for Holt’s automatic, struggling to
wrench it from his grasp. They grappled, rolling over and over, scattering
pebbles and small rocks.

The older man might be less fit, but he was desperate.
Holt slammed a left hook into his jaw.

“Give it up, Jarvis,” Luke said. He held his .38 to
the sheriff’s temple.

Another deputy, Bronc, and Special Agent Salazar ran
forward with their pistols drawn.

With a moan, Foley sagged into the dust and stayed
there.

*****

“Whoa, girl.” Maddy halted Chica at the mine entrance.
She pushed back her baseball cap and gawked at the people making their way
toward her. Bonnyman and three deputies popped out of the timber-propped mine
and its ramshackle sheds. Others traipsed down the slope above the shaft.

Holt and Bronc were among them. She blew out the
breath she’d been holding and nearly sagged, but anything other than remaining
poker stiff hurt too much. Holt’s jacket was torn, and his jeans grimy. She’d
seen him so angry he nearly steamed, but coming off that mountain he emanated
pure danger.

Behind him came Luke and Salazar dragging Sheriff
Foley between them. In handcuffs.
Foley?

“Here’s your shooter,” Luke said. “Dirty slime took
blood money to kill you.”

Foley looked at the ground. His tan uniform as well as
his chin bore the dirt and grime of a struggle. The handlebar mustache he was
so proud of drooped like the rest of him.

Holt’s gaze radiated rage and relief. He laid his hand
on her knee. “Dammit, Maddy. He nearly got you this time. He had the sniper
rifle. I sent you away.”

She smiled. “I know why you told me to leave. You
wanted to protect me. It didn’t work, Holt. I had to come. For the baby.” She
cast an anxious glance around. “What about Bobby?”

“Foley, tell her.” Holt’s voice was menacing.

“Bobby’s all right. He should be back at the Valley-D
by now. In his own bed.” The disgraced sheriff raised his head. Maddy expected
to see guilt and fear in his eyes, but not bravado. “He promised me he wouldn’t
touch him. Snatching him was just my means to get you here. My idea.”

Holt wheeled on the man. If the two men had been
alone, he would no doubt have continued the beating it looked like he’d begun
earlier. “Promised you? And you believe him, a drug dealer? A man who traffics
in death and deception. What possible motive could he have to lie to you?”

“He promised,” Foley repeated, but less certain.

“Why, Sher—uh, Foley? Why?” Maddy asked. “You’ve been
a public servant all your life. Why dishonor that record now?”

He shrugged. “That’s just it, don’t you see? A damned
public
servant
. Do you know what the pension is for a sheriff these
days? Not enough to keep me in beer. With his money I’d be set up for life, on
a beach somewhere, maybe Tahiti.”

“He’s been a very clever boy, our sheriff.” Bonnyman
approached Maddy. She stroked the mare’s neck. “Kept one step ahead of us the
whole time. Yesterday he did what we deduced. He fired a rifle from one of the
racks, then replaced it. Being Johnny-on-the-Spot with Salazar here to ‘find’
the shell casing made him look good.”

“Planned something on that order for today too, I bet.
Shoot Maddy with that high-tech rifle. Then pretend to be the first one on the
scene to find that the shooter had fled.” As if itching to bloody the man’s
face, Holt took himself out of reach. He returned to Maddy’s side.

“You missed yesterday, just wounded me. Did you really
have the nerve to go through with it?” Maddy’s chin jutted up in challenge.

“We’ll never know now.” Foley licked his lips and slid
his gaze from her to Bonnyman. With him out of commission, the agent was in
charge. “How did you figure out it was me? Did I give myself away?”

“Holt?” Bonnyman said. “You and Luke broke this
puzzle. How did you do it?”

“I got detoured with the Circle-S trucks awhile, but
Luke and I sorted it out. He remembered Foley told him I saw a black truck that
day in the meadow. He couldn’t have known the color unless he drove it. Then
Luke recalled a black pickup that was impounded, but disappeared.”

Foley gave a bitter laugh. “Reckon this blows my cushy
retirement.”

Bronc spit into the dust beside the man’s boot.
“Feller makes a pact with the devil, he’s gotta know he ain’t made a hell of a
bargain.”

Maddy turned Chica and adjusted the reins. “I’m
heading back to see about Bobby.”

Dammit. Exhaustion and pain made dark smudges beneath
her eyes and she was too damned pale. Hiking down the mountain with the rest of
them would drive daggers into her ribs. He couldn’t keep up with her on foot,
and riding double was out of the question. The mare couldn’t carry them both.
She had to ride back alone, but every step must be agony.

He wanted to wrap her up and carry her down. That
would probably hurt too. The less contact between them the better. She said she
wouldn’t, but she’d leave. His gut ached with it.

“You can’t go alone. El Águila or some of his goons
may be waiting at the house. You’ll only endanger yourself. Then how could you
help Bobby?”

“I have to go.” She kicked the mare into a walk.

“I’ll meet you there,” he called. “Promise you’ll wait
for me. Don’t go inside alone.”

She made no reply, but the painfully stiff set of her
shoulders told him the answer. He’d sure as hell hurry.

“Radio for a couple of units to get to the Valley-D
pronto,” Luke said to one of the other deputies. “Let’s get started hiking out
of here.”

“You can’t call,” Foley said. “I knocked out the
radio. Didn’t want you in too much of a hurry to track the shooter.”

“No wonder you insisted that for security reasons we
bring only one unit. We’d better get a move on.” Bonnyman motioned to the
group.

“You bastard.” Holt swung a fist at the air. “If that
drug-pushing monster has harmed my nephew, you’d better hope the jail has
security strong enough to keep out an army.”

“I’ll take my chances with you...and jail. Better than
El Águila’s punishment. I saw what he did to the first guy.” Beside Luke, he
trudged downhill, his cuffed hands behind him.

Holt hurried ahead, scattering rocks beneath his boots
as he scrambled down the trail. He had to get to the Valley-D. And Bobby. And
Maddy.

The two people he loved.

What else would Maddy find when she got there? And
who?

Chapter 27

How the hell she made it to the ranch house she had no
idea. She could barely summon the energy to slide off her horse’s back.

The late morning sunshine lay quietly on the house and
yard. She saw no vehicles, no one. They were radioing for patrol cars as she
left. Where was Bobby? “Where is everyone, girl?” she said to the tired mare.

Feet dragging, she led the patient animal into the
corral. She unfastened the saddle and dumped it on the ground by the fence
before ensuring the mare had water. “You’re a wonder. I’ll tend to you in a
little while.”

Her nerves thrummed as she approached the kitchen
door. At the thought of who or what she’d find, her stomach churned. She opened
the door and stepped in.

She hadn’t believed Holt’s prediction. The last person
she expected to see seated at the table was the dark man.

El Águila
.

She stifled a shudder. This was the ruthless gangster
who had arranged Rob’s and Sara’s deaths as indifferently as that of a rodent
in the pantry.

And on his lap lay Bobby.

The baby seemed content, propped against the man’s
stomach. Bobby waved his arms and squealed when he saw her.

“
Buenos días, señorita
--or rather
señora
.
Finally we meet,” the cartel kingpin said in barely accented English. “Since
you have returned safely from Ghost Mountain, I know that Foley has failed.
Again. I salute your husband.”

He held Bobby securely with his right arm. In his
right hand he gripped a short-barreled automatic pistol.

Bobby bounced excitedly, his plump hands batting at
the lethal steel.

Her mouth was suddenly dry, but she managed to swallow
past the lump in her throat. Pain and exhaustion receded, and her entire being
focused on the baby. He was helpless and trusting, cradled in the arms of a
killer. Her hands itched to snatch him away, but she had to act cautiously.
Impulsivity in this case might mean disaster.

She pushed the door closed behind her and leaned
against it. “
Señor
, I am grateful you have not harmed the child.”

A sneer contorted his harsh, pockmarked face. He
snorted his disdain. “I am not a baby killer.”

Perhaps not directly
, she nearly retorted,
but
how many babies have died because of their parents’ addiction?
She’d have
angered him and he probably believed deaths the fault of the drug users, not
himself. To an extent, he would be right.

Determination kept her knees from wobbling, and she
inched toward him, an eye on the gun. “I am told that in Tijuana you used the
name Perez. I prefer that to
El Águila
.”

His sunken-eyed gaze flat and unreadable, he made a
small bow. “It is my name.”

She doubted that, but it didn’t matter. “How did you
get here? I saw no car.”

His cold and lethal smile showed two gold teeth. “My
driver has hidden himself well. He will return for me soon.”

Her heart throbbed painfully against her poor ribs.
She took another step closer. “
Señor
Perez, may I take the baby from
you? I should feed him.”

With his free hand, he stroked Bobby’s head tenderly.
He laid his long fingers over the vulnerable soft spot on top. “You took so
long to return. He was indeed hungry. I found formula and fed him, just as I
have fed my grandson. He is a fine boy.”

Her gaze riveted to the sight of the cartel leader’s
hand on the baby’s head. Her breath stilled and she forced herself to raise her
eyes.

Perez spread his lips again in that shark’s smile. He
caressed the downy head once more. “I think he may need a nap.” He supported
Bobby’s head and held him out to her.

“Gah!” Bobby waved his arms and gurgled. In his
wriggling, he kicked her side.

She inhaled a painful breath, but held on. She cuddled
him close. Thank God he was whole. She pressed her lips to his soft forehead
and breathed in his sweet, milky scent.

As if he knew cooperation was imperative, the baby
rubbed one eye and yawned.

Anything to get him out of this man’s reach. “I
believe you’re right. I’ll go put him down.”

Perez pushed slowly to his feet. He held the gun
pointed at the floor, but followed her, watching her like his namesake while
she laid the sleepy infant in his crib.

When they returned to the kitchen, leaving Bobby out
of harm’s way, she said, “If not the baby, have you come to kill
me
, to
finish the job others have botched?”

“Pah, the fools.” He sank heavily onto a chair. His
tone was tight and sharp as a dagger, but his blunt features remained
impassive. He gestured to the other chair. “Sit down, please. I dislike people
standing over me.”

She sat. Whatever he wanted. She had to keep him
talking until Holt and the others arrived. What was keeping them? And what if
this man’s driver came first?

“
Señora
, I have been the fool, for trusting
lesser men to carry out my orders. To answer your question, I came to see that
this affair is finished.”

That this affair is finished
. Did he mean to
kill her or not? Her heart tumbled. “How did you track Holt? He was based in
the Boston DEA office.”

“Computers are wonderful instruments. My Tijuana
police connection was most efficient in tracing his family ties to this valley.
The rest was up to the man I hired. He was what you n
orteamericanos
call
a loose cannon. He overstepped.”

She frowned in confusion. “That man Riggs was supposed
to murder Rob, but not Sara?”

“He was supposed to be discreet. Riggs had a
capricious temperament. In a professional, a disadvantage. He made an unwise
remark on a public street to the hot-tempered
Señor
Donovan about his
beautiful wife.”

“I learned of that only the other day.”

“When Donovan threatened him, Riggs unfortunately
chose to eliminate them both in a spectacular way. An unauthorized, brash move
that invited attention to my plan too soon. I do not, as St. Paul says in
Corinthians, ‘suffer fools gladly.’ A couple of my men were observing. When I
learned of Riggs’s foolhardiness, I had them eliminate him.”

In this case it was the fool who suffered. This
powerful man who organized murder as easily as he ordered lunch quoted the
Bible. She suppressed a shudder.

But she needed to know more. “You put yourself in
considerable danger to cross the border, to come here personally. Why?”

“I came to meet the man who killed my son and to
finish what he began. The man who kept me in hiding across the border until it
became too late.” His dark eyes narrowed and his breathing became shallow,
gasping.

Only too well she recognized the signs of pain. She
remembered his shuffling walk when he accompanied her to the nursery. His shark
complexion reflected not his character, but his health. “You’re ill.”

“I am beyond ill,
señora
.” From a pocket he
extracted a small pill bottle.

She rose and poured him a glass of water. She waited
for him to elaborate.

After swallowing two tablets with the contents of the
glass, Perez leaned back and sighed. “That encounter in March prevented me from
entering the U.S. for treatments to combat the cancer that eats at my liver.
The doctors tell me that it has now spread throughout my body.”

She stared at him in dawning comprehension. “That’s
why you went to Tijuana. To get into California for cancer treatments.” She was
looking at a dying man. A dying man nevertheless bent on revenge.

“We will wait for
Señor
Donovan together.”
Clutching his belly, Perez struggled to his feet. “I will witness his knowledge
of the debt his loved ones have paid.”

“But you—”

“Federal agents. Come out with your hands up.”

At last! Maddy had heard nothing, but agents and
deputies must have surrounded the house. She should be grateful, but the
possibilities of a shoot-out tightened the gorilla grip around her ribs.
Gasping a painful breath, she started to the door.

Perez grabbed her elbow and pulled her backward. “No,
señora
.”
With surprising strength, he banded an arm around her. He held the shiny barrel
of his pistol to her head. “We go out there together.”

*****

Holt knelt between his Silverado and one of the
sheriff’s department Broncos. Four vehicles in all blocked their quarry’s exit,
and eight agents and deputies encircled the house. Bonnyman had taken Foley
into custody, but Salazar stood with Luke.

Where the hell was Maddy? He couldn’t see the corral
or in the makeshift shelter to know if she’d made it back. And the baby, where
was he? Was Bobby safe? Barbed wire coiled around his gut, sharp and spiked.

“We are coming out,” a man’s accented voice called.

The door opened, and two figures shaded by the porch
roof appeared in the opening.

The barbed wire coiled tighter. He flattened himself
against the Silverado. “Don’t shoot. He’s got Maddy.”

“If you allow me to leave, I will not hurt the woman.”
The leather-jacketed man walked his hostage to the porch steps. He held her
tight against his body with one arm. His other hand held a .357 Magnum snub to
her temple.

The drug lord seemed to have shrunk since March.
Thinner in a leather jacket that hung loosely on his frame. The scarred face,
the hooded eyes that hid his intent but not his corruption—those had not
changed.

“
Señor
Águila, you’re not going anywhere,” Luke
called. “Your driver has been detained. Let Mrs. Donovan come to us.”

“She remains with me.” He forced her down the steps
with him. He edged them to the right, as if headed to the barn.

“Does he think he can escape on horseback?” one of the
deputies whispered.

“How many horses you got?” Salazar asked.

“Three.” If he rode across the hills, they might not
catch him. He could head any direction. What if he forced Maddy to go with him?
Holt’s lungs ached so he could barely breathe.

“Holt, Bobby’s all right,” she called in a strained
voice. She grimaced with the pain of being gripped around her injured ribcage.
“He’s safe in his crib.”

Thank you, God
. He fought down the urge to leap
from cover and tackle the man. He inched ahead, ready to dash forward if he saw
an opening.

Maddy lunged to one side. For a long moment, she
struggled with her captor. He wrestled with her. He held the high-powered
pistol high, then between them. With a sudden shove at him, she dropped to the
ground and rolled away.

Holt vaulted to his feet and started forward. He raised
his SIG with both hands. “Put down your gun!”

El Águila fired three quick bursts toward the trucks.

As Holt squeezed off a carefully aimed shot, a bullet
slammed into his thigh and knocked him to the ground.
“Noooo!”

El Águila staggered. He clutched his shoulder. The
pistol dangled loosely from his bloodied arm.

Two deputies slipped from around the house and tackled
the gangster. One grappled him to the ground. The other stripped him of the
weapon.

Before Holt could drag himself closer, Maddy was at his
side, pressing on his wound. She dragged off her flannel shirt and held it to
the wound. Then she slid off her belt and wrapped that around the thigh.

He felt no pain yet, only weakness. “Maddy, you’re
safe.”

Tears stained her beautiful pale face. “So much blood,
oh, dear God. Luke, call an ambulance.”

“On the way.” Luke directed the deputies to get the
man to his feet. One of them read him his rights.

“He says Juan Perez is his real name.” She sat with
her arms supporting Holt.

“Whatever you say your name is...you bastard, you’re
nothing but filth.” Pain was setting his leg on fire, but it couldn’t match the
hatred burning inside him. “You killed my family. You took my nephew and
threatened my wife. You can never pay enough.”

“You killed my son, my Ernesto. He was my hope for the
future. All that I built is lost, torn limb from limb by my enemies.” Perez’s
mouth twisted with the fervor of his words.

“I shot a dirty drug-dealing, gun-smuggling snake who
would have killed me. If I’d had one second more, I’d have sent you to Hell
like you deserve.”

“Give the word, Holt,” Luke said, “and I’ll send these
guys away. You can finish it your way. He shot you. It’d be self-defense.
Nobody here will say any different.”

The temptation of vengeance vibrated the air, a
resolution to months of horror and grief.

Holt wrapped his hand around his gun, in the dirt
beside him. He lifted it, pointed the SIG’s cold, steel barrel at his enemy. “I
could snuff out your life with one bullet. But would that end it? Or only cause
more grief? Unlike you,
Señor
Perez, I am no cold-blooded killer.”

Juan Perez angled his head in a courtly bow. “The
señor
is a cruel man. You have won even if you do not know it.”

The deputies led the notorious El Águila to one of the
police vans. In the distance an ambulance siren wailed.

Once they were alone, Maddy kissed Holt’s hot
forehead.

“What did he mean...I’ve won?” he said.

“He knew there was no escape. I think he was taunting you
only to lure you into shooting him. I didn’t pull away from him. He pushed me
down. A quick death is what he wanted.”

“A quick death? Why?” Holt visualized his enemy, his
ashen visage and sunken eyes. He began to comprehend the meaning of the man’s
enigmatic last words to him.

“When a body is riddled with cancer, an agonizing,
slow death beckons,” Maddy said. “A bullet to the heart would end his life too
soon. While the wheels of justice turn, let the devil wait for him awhile
longer.”