Hunt Them Down(82)

From there, he had a nice angle on the two cartel members. Since Egan had returned to his normal rate of fire—one round every ten or fifteen seconds—the two men were taking more chances and were swapping turns at risking a lucky shot. Hunt didn’t dare open the window to engage his targets, so he moved his MP5’s firing selector from single shot to three-round bursts. He aligned his sights on where he thought the closest man would appear—at the front of the Range Rover, just over the engine block. Hunt estimated the distance at two hundred feet. Not impossible, but not an easy shot either, especially as he had to shoot through a window. Hunt would have only one chance to hit his target. If he missed, his target would know exactly where Hunt had fired from, and he would lose the element of surprise.

There! The man appeared, just right of where Hunt had bet he’d be. Hunt adjusted his aim and slowly pulled the trigger. His three-round burst shattered the window, showering the porch with broken glass. Hunt’s target was hit, and he fell forward, out of cover. He tried to get up but only managed to get on one knee before falling again. Hunt was about to send him the gift of another three-round burst, but remembered what Egan had told him.

These guys aren’t dumb. They know how to shoot. Maybe they were ex-military, like their dead boss Hector? If so, the man’s partner would try to bring him back to safety. And three seconds later, that’s exactly what happened.

The second man fired two long bursts toward Egan and then stepped out of cover to help his fallen comrade. Hunt was ready, and he didn’t miss. His three-round burst punched holes in the man’s chest, and he pitched backward. Hunt fired an extra burst into each body to make sure they would pose no further threat.

Hunt hurried outside. Egan was already next to Carter. He saw Abigail’s SUV racing down the driveway and assumed either Egan or Dante had called her in. Leila ran to him, jumped up—almost knocking him over—and wrapped her arms around his neck. His daughter buried her face in his neck, and he felt her warm tears. His own eyes welled up. His mind whirled. So much had happened in the past two days. Hunt was exhausted, but he was afraid to move, unwilling to break the spell; but a second later, she did.

“We need to get Sophia, Dad,” Leila said. “She’s in a big house.”

“I know where she is,” Hunt said, letting his daughter down. “I’ll get her.”

Egan called out for him. “Pierce, get over here.”

Carter had regained consciousness, but he was in pain. Dante gave him a shot of morphine from the trauma kit in Abigail’s car. Abigail whispered in Hunt’s ear, “He can’t feel his legs.”

Oh shit.

Hunt knelt next to Carter and took the man’s hand. “You saved my life, Simon,” he said, his voice breaking. “I . . . I . . .”

Carter smiled. “It’s okay, brother. I’ll be fine. Don’t get that choked up.”

“We’ll get you some help, Simon. We’re leaving.”

Carter nodded weakly, and, with that, his eyes rolled up in their sockets as he passed out.

Hunt helped Dante and Egan carry Carter into the back seat of the Range Rover. Apart from a few scratches and dents where Egan’s and Hunt’s bullets had ricocheted off, the SUV was fine and wouldn’t draw unwanted attention.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” Hunt started. “Abigail, you and Dante will take the Range Rover and drive straight to the airport with Leila and Simon.”

“Got it,” Abigail replied.

“I’ll call Anna to let her know you’re coming,” Hunt said. Then he turned to Egan. “You and I, Cole, we have unfinished business to attend to.”





CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN

San Miguel de Allende, Mexico

Egan didn’t remember the last time he was so nervous. Hunt’s plan was sound but extremely dangerous. It could work, but the chances were they’d both be dead within the next five minutes. Egan wasn’t afraid of dying, but he was frightened to leave Katherine behind and to never see the baby that was growing inside her. Still, like Hunt, he had to see this through.

“Here we go,” he said, loud enough for Hunt to hear him. “We’re there.”

Egan made a left into the Black Tosca’s driveway and stopped at the front gate. Two uniformed guards came out of the guardhouse. These two were poorly trained rent-a-cops. Egan wasn’t even sure they knew who they were working for. The Black Tosca had hired them simply to keep the appearance of normality. Her real security detail was inside the gates, albeit a bit smaller since they’d killed a bunch of them at óliver Sáez’s house. One of the security guards gestured for Egan to pop open the hood. He did. The other guard, equipped with a long-handled mirror, swept the underside of the SUV in search of explosives. Egan was then asked to open the trunk. That he couldn’t do, since it was where Hunt was hidden under a large tarp. The security guard approached. Egan pressed a button, and his window came down.

“I’m here to see the Black Tosca,” he said.

“Wrong address,” the guard said.

“Tell her Mr. Granger is here with a special package.”

Clearly, the name didn’t ring a bell with him. He was definitely not a cartel member. “I need to see the interior of the vehicle,” the guard said.

“No, you don’t,” Egan replied. “Your employer will feed you to the fish if you open this trunk.”