Hunt Them Down(43)
Tony’s head snapped toward Anna. A look of complete surprise crossed his face. Anna let go a small, abrupt laugh but didn’t respond otherwise. Even Tony seemed at a loss for words.
“We got a deal?” Hunt said.
Tony’s face contorted in anger. “You’re crazier than I thought,” he said.
“I was under the impression you’d do anything for Sophia. I guess I was wrong.”
“How dare you demand such things? Why does it even matter to you?”
Hunt’s expression hardened. “Because your business is the reason our daughters were taken,” he roared, “or are you too fucking blind to see that?”
A man like Tony didn’t get to where he was by being stupid. He might have inherited the organization from his father when Vicente went to prison, but he was the one who had bullishly expanded it into many different and lucrative niches. Tony had invested heavily in real estate using money laundered through his numerous legitimate contracting corporations. He now owned several high-value lots and apartment buildings all around the east coast of Florida. In the process, Tony had made new enemies but also achieved a degree of diversification that provided the kind of synergy rarely seen in the drug-trafficking industry. A fifth of the family business income now came from genuine businesses. An organization like his would be a prime acquisition target for a powerful Mexican cartel like the one the Black Tosca controlled.
“Do you really think you can do better than the police can do?” Anna asked.
Hunt turned in his seat to face her. “Listen, Anna, the police are pretty good at what they do, and, to be honest, very few things grip an officer with more urgency than a missing child. There’s something about this type of call that drives the officers to respond with everything they’ve got.”
“But?”
“They excel at finding missing or runaway children,” Hunt explained. “But Sophia and Leila, they were abducted by one of the most ferocious and powerful drug cartels in the world. The police are ill-equipped to deal with that, and with the red tape associated with a criminal investigation—”
“And you would know about these things, right, Terrance?” Tony asked, not hiding his sarcasm.
Hunt didn’t take the bait. Instead, he looked at Anna for support. He didn’t get any. It had been an exhausting day for everyone, and tensions ran high.
Hunt glared at Tony. “Yes, I know how to run a criminal investigation and how hard it is to successfully prosecute someone like you. I tried, and I failed, remember? We both know you were as guilty as your father. But here you are, reigning over his organization.”
“What’s your point, Pierce?” Anna demanded.
Hunt had long ago made up his mind about what he was willing to do to get Leila back. So when he replied to Anna, his voice was chillingly even. “I have no intention of following the rules. There’s nothing I won’t do, nothing I won’t say, to get the girls back. I’ll hurt as many people as I need to.”
Flashbacks from his actions in Gaza flooded his thoughts. They came as short but violent bursts that shocked his brain with images so vivid that it was hard to dissociate them from reality.
A man is tied to a chair. Hamas terrorist scum. He’s pleading—pleading for his life. A dark, reeking stain has already spread across his dirty combat trousers. His right kneecap has been shattered, and a finger is missing from his left hand.
Hunt pressed his hand against his forehead in an attempt to dislodge the brutal images.
“Pierce? Are you okay?”
Slowly, he managed to claw out of the images in his head. Once they were gone, he focused on Anna and said, “I’ve been through a situation like this before. Let’s just say that in the Rangers, I acquired a particular set of skills. This skill set could come in quite handy in the next day or so.”
“Where will you start?” Anna asked. “And what about the warrant against you?”
He looked at her, then at Tony. “Just give me everything you have on the Black Tosca’s operations in Florida, and I truly mean everything. Together with whatever Carter sends me, I’ll figure out something.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
South Beach, Florida
Hunt glanced at Anna from time to time as he weaved through the South Beach traffic. She was looking straight in front of her, her head resting against the plush leather padding of the headrest. She wore a thousand-yard stare, the same one he had seen on the faces of soldiers right after they had lost a friend in combat. She hadn’t exchanged one word with him since they had left Tony’s compound, and Hunt was sure this was because he had told her and Tony—in no uncertain terms—that he didn’t want Anna to accompany him. Tony had then volunteered, but Hunt had flat-out refused. Anna he could control. Maybe. But Tony—he was Sophia’s father. There was no way he would keep his cool if they came close to finding the girls. The odds of Tony killing someone before Hunt could extract every bit of intel out of him were too great. Besides, the Black Tosca might well have Tony under surveillance.
Mercifully, the intelligence Simon Carter had sent his way was of great assistance in helping Hunt find a place to start in locating the girls. Cross-referencing it with the intelligence the Garcia family had gathered on the Black Tosca since her rise to power had been easier than he had originally assumed. The late Vicente had identified the Black Tosca as a potential threat early on and had kept close tabs on her, which surprised Hunt.