Hunt Them Down(81)

Simon Carter had saved his life. It was that simple. Now Hunt’s friend lay motionless, and Dante and Egan were pinned down. Leila looked startled but unhurt. Hunt crawled toward her.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Stay down, Leila. Okay?”

She nodded. The tears he had seen earlier were gone, replaced by a glint of determination. “Can I help?” she asked.

Brave girl. “Just stay where you are.”

“Dad?” she said, just loud enough for him to hear. He looked at her. “Thanks for coming. I knew you would.”

Right now, there was nothing he wanted more than to hold his daughter in his arms. He kissed her on the forehead and then went to work.





CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX

San Miguel de Allende, Mexico

The smell of fuel woke Hector up. He flung his eyes open, and light flooded in. He remembered being violently thrown forward. And then nothing. He was bleeding and broken, and he cursed his driver for his stupidity. He looked around him. The Range Rover was upside down. All its windows had shattered on impact. He checked the driver, or what was left of him. There was nothing Hector could do for him.

Sporadic gunfire drew his attention.

MP5s. Not ours.

And AR-15s. My guys.

He looked around the interior of the smashed SUV for his own AR-15 but couldn’t find it. He pulled his pistol out and crept toward the shattered window. He felt pieces of glass beneath his hands and muffled a curse as they dug deep into his skin. He fought the weakness that swam through his limbs. His strength was sapped, but he managed to pull himself out of the Range Rover. He lay on the ground a moment, catching his breath. He got to one knee to orient himself and felt a presence behind him.

He turned sharply, raising his pistol as he did so. But he was too late. Hunt had already fired twice. The two bullets slammed into Hector’s abdomen. His pistol slipped through his fingers. He moved his hands to his abdomen, clutching his wounds. The first round had hit no vital organs, so if Hunt had only fired once, he would have had a chance. But the second bullet had been awfully effective. It had mangled his intestines and kidneys. Never before in his life had he been in such agony. Hector yelped in pain as he forced himself into a sitting position. He supported himself with his left arm but kept his right hand pressed against the entry wounds. Bright red blood poured through his fingers. He chuckled but didn’t know why. He looked at Hunt. The expression on Hunt’s face was one of utter contempt. His eyes, cold and dark, showed no sympathy, no mercy whatsoever.

“I hope it hurts,” Hunt told him.

Hector looked down. The front of his shirt was a deep crimson and so was the top of his pants.

“Sí, it does. Very much so.”

“Where’s Sophia Garcia?”

Hector wanted to answer. He wanted Hunt to stop Valentina, but he felt himself drifting away. He was losing too much blood too fast.

Pain brought him back. He opened his eyes. Hunt’s face was inches away from his, and he was holding Hector’s injured ear with his left hand. A searing ache filled Hector’s senses as Hunt twisted. He screamed. Hunt let go of his ear.

“Where’s Sophia Garcia?” he repeated.

“She’s in San Miguel,” he said weakly. Another wave of pain racked his entire body. He waited for it to subside and then said, “At the Black Tosca’s house. And Hunt?”

Hunt’s eyes had turned murderous. “Careful, Hector.”

Suddenly, the pain was gone, leaving behind exhaustion and numbness. His left arm buckled, and Hector slowly slid to the ground, panting.

“I’m . . . I’m sorry. This . . . should have never happened.”

“No, it shouldn’t have,” Hunt confirmed. The last thing Hector saw was a flash of light. He never felt the first bullet enter just below his nose, or the second one, which pierced his heart.



Hunt scanned his surroundings to make sure he wasn’t being flanked. He caught a glimpse of Egan, who had taken position behind what was left of the Land Cruiser. Dante was in a prone position next to Leila. Hunt rushed to Egan’s side just as bullets pinged off the metal behind him. Egan returned fire with his MP5.

“I’m down to one mag,” Egan told him, firing a couple of shots. Then he added, “I had to keep their heads down while you were having your little chat with Hector.”

Hunt gave Egan one of his magazines. “We need to haul ass, Cole. Abigail will pick us up, but we need to take these two bozos out.”

“Agreed,” Egan said. “But these guys aren’t dumb. They know how to shoot, and the angle is all wrong from here. I can’t hit anything.”

“But you can keep their heads down, right?”

Egan frowned. “What are you thinking?”

“Change your mag.”

Egan obeyed and inserted the magazine Hunt had given him into his MP5.

“On three, you pin them down with a full mag. Copy?”

Egan nodded, and Hunt counted, “One, two, three.”

Egan inched out of cover and sent rounds toward the Range Rover at a rapid rate. Hunt waited until Egan had fired a dozen rounds before he sprinted the sixty feet of open ground separating him from the front door. He reached the front door just as Egan fired his last round. Hunt moved inside and to the west side of the house. He hunched over, keeping low to the floor to stay below the windows. There were no blinds on the windows, so Hunt was extra vigilant when he peeked outside, leaving only a tiny part of his head exposed.