Hunt Them Down(69)
She got up from the sofa and disappeared from the living room. Tasis, though, was still there, standing in a corner and looking pissed off as usual.
Egan leaned toward Hunt. “Thanks for keeping my involvement with you-know-who between us,” he said, his voice low.
The truce Hunt had forged with the Garcia crime family was fragile. If Tasis, Anna, or any members of their family learned that Egan was a contractor for the Black Tosca, he’d never live to see another day. Thoughts of the Black Tosca reminded Hunt that if he couldn’t find his daughter within the next—he checked his watch again—eleven hours and thirty-two minutes, Leila would be burned alive, her execution live streamed.
This is your fault, Vicente Garcia, you piece of shit. What were you thinking, burning a man in front of his young daughter? Now it’s your own granddaughter and my Leila who’ll pay the price for your stupidity.
“Hey, Pierce, you okay?”
Hunt looked up. Anna was inserting a SIM card into a prepaid cell phone. She handed him the phone. He mumbled his thanks and walked out to the terrace to place his call.
McMaster didn’t pick up, so Hunt left a quick voice mail letting him know he’d call again in exactly five minutes. When he turned around, Tasis was there, his jaw locked so tight that Hunt could see a muscle twitching.
“What do you want?” Hunt asked him.
“What can I do to help?”
Hunt cocked his head. This is unexpected. “I thought you wanted to kill me?”
“A part of me still does. Your betrayal is my failure, I told you.”
“But?”
“Anna said you tried to save Tony’s life, so I’ll ask again: Can I help?”
There was no way Hunt would let Tasis travel with him and Egan to Mexico to meet with Carter. As loyal and ruthless as Tasis was, he wasn’t a trained operator. He had no idea how to work within a team or employ the unconventional tactics used during a hostage rescue operation. Still, he could be useful here in Florida. But first, Hunt had a question for him.
“What was Tony talking about earlier? Anna’s issue. What is it?”
Tasis looked at the floor. “It’s not my place—”
“Don’t fuck with me, Mauricio.”
Tasis crossed his arms with a heavy sigh. “She killed a man,” he said, then quickly added, “but it was legitimate self-defense.”
Hunt ought to have been surprised, but he wasn’t. He couldn’t say why, but deep down he had known, or at least suspected. Something in her demeanor, maybe?
“In Miami,” Hunt said, remembering how shaken she’d been when she had picked him up in the Cherokee.
“That’s right. A man attacked her. She killed him.”
Hunt felt terrible for Anna. Killing someone—self-defense or not—placed a black mark on one’s soul. He didn’t know when it would come, but down the road she’d need someone to talk to. He would be there for her.
“You know where my daughter lives?” Hunt asked, changing the subject.
“Chris Moon’s residence, yes?”
“If our op in Mexico fails, they’ll come for my ex-wife. She’s Moon’s wife now, but she’s Leila’s mother, and I still care for her.”
“I don’t think you’ll fail, Mr. Hunt, but if you do, I’ll make sure she’s safe.”
Hunt kept his mouth shut but offered a slight nod.
Tasis turned around and headed back inside the house. It was time to call McMaster again. This time the DEA man answered right away.
“Is that you, Pierce?”
“I’m calling to check on the bystander I shot. Last time we talked, he was in surgery. Tell me he’s okay.”
“He’s okay. Last I heard, they were about to release him. He’ll be fine, but that doesn’t mean he won’t sue. And there’s the warrant.”
The innocent victim he’d hit with a bullet was safe, and that was all Hunt cared about. He’d deal with the potential lawsuit and warrant later. McMaster wasn’t about to rat him out to the local cops. He knew what was at stake.
“Thanks for letting me know, sir.”
McMaster changed the subject, and his voice grew cold—almost stern. “Is Cole with you?”
“He’s close by, yes.”
“What’s his role in this, Pierce?”
“I think it would be better if you—”
“He’s my daughter’s husband, damn it! He’s with the CIA, isn’t he?”
The CIA? Cole? That was ridiculous. The CIA wouldn’t touch Cole Egan with a ten-foot pole. Hunt was about to ask McMaster what kind of weed he smoked but thought better of it. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to play the CIA card. Those guys were involved in a lot of shit overseas. If Egan wanted to keep his family—and stay out of jail—hinting that he was CIA wasn’t a bad idea, at least for the short term. He’d have a chat with Egan about it.
“As I suggested earlier, I really think you guys should have a serious man-to-man talk, you know?” Hunt replied, staying vague.
“I fucking knew it!” McMaster exclaimed. “I knew it. A goddamn spook! Did you know, Hunt, that he called me in the middle of the night to ask me to either relocate my daughter or, at the very least, to send a security team to her house?”