Hunt Them Down(25)

But Vicente Garcia’s trial had shattered that dream.

The news of her husband’s infidelity had been the ultimate betrayal. After everything she’d endured, everything she had sacrificed, she could stand no more. The morning after his first court appearance, she’d taken Leila. She had filed for divorce the same week. She hadn’t exactly been happy that Pierce’s moving back to southern Florida meant Leila would see more of him, and today’s events had proved her right. Her precious daughter was gone.

No, not gone—kidnapped! Because of you, Pierce. I’ve lost her because of you! The dark world you live in has finally caught up to us. You bastard.

“Hon, you okay?” Moon asked. “The detective asked you a question.”

Jasmine wiped her eyes with the back of her hands. “I’m sorry, Detective. What was that?” she asked.

“You’ve heard of him, Ms. DeGray? Vicente Garcia?” the detective asked.

She was about to reply when her cell phone rang. She looked at the call display.

Pierce Hunt.





CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Miami, Florida

Pierce Hunt punched Jasmine’s number into his cell as he fought the anger roiling in his belly. He ground his teeth until his jaw hurt and cursed loudly when he dialed the wrong number. He did his best to get his heart rate back to normal, but it was easier said than done.

There had been no enemy survivors. Every single assaulter was dead. A search of their bodies and clothes had revealed little of interest. The FBI was now on the scene and collecting evidence, but since cooperation between the FBI and DEA was at an all-time low, Hunt didn’t expect to receive any actionable intelligence from their investigation. That was why he had taken pictures of the dead assaulters. An application on his cell phone allowed him to collect their fingerprints too. He hadn’t yet decided if he’d share the photos and fingerprints with McMaster. Despite his new boss’s apparent surprise at Zorita’s betrayal, McMaster’s relationship with Zorita bothered him.

Hunt managed to dial Jasmine’s number on his third try, and she picked up on the second ring.

“What do you want?”

Her tone caught him off guard.

“Are you safe?”

“They took Leila, Pierce. They took my girl! What have you done?”

“I—”

“Where are you?”

“Close by. Are you home?”

“Yes, I’m with Chris and a Miami police detective.”

“I can be there in twenty minutes,” he offered.

“No!” she shouted. “It’s your damn fault, Pierce. Oh my God, this is so on you.”

Her words were unexpected, crude, and spoken out of anger. But they nevertheless crushed him. His knuckles turned white, and he felt his phone crack under the pressure. He forced himself to relax. Jasmine didn’t have all the facts, and if she needed someone to pin the blame on, he would assume that role.

“I really think we should talk, Jasmine,” he said as gently as he could once he had regained his composure.

“Why would I care about anything you have to say?”

“Someone ambushed the motorcade I was in today. They killed Vicente Garcia. And they almost killed me.”

He heard her gasp. His words had cut through the haze of her rage. “When? I mean how? Oh my God, Pierce . . . what the fuck’s going on?”

“Wait for me. I’ll be there in twenty.”





CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

San Miguel de Allende

Valentina Mieles tossed her flip phone to Nicolás, her main bodyguard and part-time lover. He caught it with his right hand and immediately started to dismantle it. It didn’t matter that they’d had sex twice in the past hour. Her eyes remained glued to Nicolás. He was standing naked at the foot of her bed, his muscles glistening from his recent efforts. With his soft brown eyes and his high cheekbones, he seemed approachable, a kind man.

But she knew better. Nicolás was a killer.

He had done unspeakable things for her and would continue to do so to cement her power. But like all the other men who had played cameo roles in her life, Nicolás was expendable.

“Leave me,” she ordered him, casting one last look at his naked body. She had some thinking to do and found herself incapable of focusing on the task at hand when Nicolás was naked in front of her.

Nicolás bowed, took two steps back, and vanished out of sight.

Her conversation with Hector had pleased her. The operation had been costly, but Vicente Garcia was dead. With his death, the United States government had lost its star witness. There was no doubt in her mind that her message had been heard loud and clear. People would think twice about crossing her in any way. Not that they didn’t before, but some people needed a reminder once in a while.

The other operation had gone according to plan. One of her men had been injured by Sophia’s girlfriend, but he would be fine. The two girls were now sequestered at her Hallandale Beach safe house. Hector wanted to call Tony Garcia to negotiate the terms of his daughter’s release, but she had vetoed him. She would take care of it herself. She wanted Tony Garcia to understand there was only one way this would end.

His death.

The thought brought a smile to her lips. With Tony Garcia gone, her cartel would control over 80 percent of the drug trade in Florida, and, more importantly, she’d finally avenge the savage murder of her father. But it was of the utmost importance that Tony understood why this was happening to him and his family. Vicente had killed her father over a minor financial disagreement. For this, she was going to decimate their entire family and take over their business.