Hunt Them Down(83)

The guard looked confused but retreated inside the guardhouse. When he came back a minute later, his attitude had changed drastically. He was much more deferential toward Egan, and he apologized profusely.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Granger. Mr. Nicolás will be down shortly to escort you to the residence.”

Egan closed the window. “You got that, Pierce?”

“I did. I want a clean and quick in-and-out.”

“Any special rules of engagement you’d like to share before we start?”

“Yeah, don’t shoot Sophia. Everybody else is fair play.”

Show time.



Hunt stretched his legs, trying to work the cramps out of them. He adjusted the tarp Egan had thrown over him to prevent him from being seen through the side windows of the Honda CR-V. He kept his Glock 22—to which he had added an Osprey suppressor—close to his chest, with his right hand wrapped around its grip and his finger on the frame. Hunt wanted to be ready for any surprises. He didn’t know much about Nicolás, but Egan had told him the guy was a former Mexican navy commando, the Black Tosca’s bodyguard, and a certified psycho.

On the bright side, Leila was safe, and that thought brought a huge smile to his face. Carter’s predicament, though, wiped it off. Hunt felt enormous guilt for what had happened. But at the same time, he was furious at Carter for saving his life, as he might have destroyed his own in the process.

Abigail’s words rang in his head. He can’t feel his legs.

Hunt forced himself to get his mind back on the business at hand. He’d have plenty of time later to reflect—and torture himself—about what happened.

“Nicolás is coming,” Egan called through gritted teeth. “Get ready.”



Egan watched as Nicolás walked toward the SUV. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a slim waist, black hair, and brown skin. The guy was good-looking. Egan gave him that. What Egan didn’t like, though, was Nicolás’s walk. It was confident and assured. Not good.

As Nicolás came closer, Egan noticed a pistol tucked in the man’s waistband. Egan lowered his window, thinking Nicolás would want to talk to him, but the man climbed into the passenger’s seat and pointed his pistol at Egan.

“Put your hands on the steering wheel,” Nicolás instructed. “Palms out, fingers spread, and lay them down easy. No sudden movements.”

Egan did as he was told.

“Are you armed?”

Egan’s eyes moved to the glove box. “In there.”

Nicolás didn’t bother checking. “Anything on you?”

“Glock 22. Left shoulder holster.”

“That’s it?”

Egan nodded. It was. But I have Pierce Hunt in the back.

“Use your right hand, and slowly reach into your jacket. Don’t think you can draw quicker than I can shoot. It would be your last mistake, Mr. Granger.”

Nicolás extended his hand, and Egan gave him his Glock. Nicolás handed it to the security guard waiting outside the SUV.

“Why are you here?”

“I have a gift for the Black Tosca.”

Nicolás cocked his head to the side. “A gift? What kind of gift?”

“Behind you, in the black garbage bag.”

Nicolás’s eyes briefly moved to the back seat. “What is it?”

“A severed head,” Egan replied truthfully.

Nicolás’s face beamed with pleasure. A faint smile lurked at the corners of his lips. “I’m sure she’ll love it,” he said, lowering his weapon. “Drive forward, Mr. Granger. The Black Tosca is looking forward to seeing you.”

Egan started the engine and put the transmission into drive. The front gate closed behind him the moment the SUV had gone through. Egan followed the winding driveway up the gentle slope for about a quarter mile until he reached the Black Tosca’s magnificent colonial house. Two guards waited for them outside the main entrance. These men weren’t rent-a-cops. Their demeanor, the relaxed-but-alert way they were standing, was a dead giveaway that they were Hector’s men and former members of the Mexican military.

“I would have thought there’d be more than two guards,” Egan said for Hunt’s benefit.

“We’re heading west to the coast tomorrow,” Nicolás said. “Most guys are already there, preparing the compound for her arrival.”

“Where’s Hector? I’m sure he’d like to see the gift too,” Egan said. “He gave me the contract.”

“Hector and his crew will join us shortly, Mr. Granger,” Nicolás said. “Please follow me.”

Egan grabbed the black garbage bag from the rear seat and climbed out of the SUV. One of the guards opened the front door for them. The interior of the house was spectacular. Nothing about the elegant exterior prepared Egan for the sheer opulence within. It almost looked staged. It was just too damn perfect—crystal chandeliers on the ceilings, heavy red velvet drapes on the larger-than-life windows, and bronze statues filling every corner. As he followed Nicolás deeper into the house, Egan noticed that all the rooms flowed into each other and were all meticulously decorated in authentic Mexican fashion with exquisite, high-end furniture. Nicolás led him down a long hall, their footsteps echoing on the marble floor. They made a right at the end of the hallway and entered a huge library dominated by a wide, curving staircase that spiraled up to the next level. The Black Tosca, magnificently dressed in a long, very tight red dress that didn’t leave much to the imagination, was seated in a plush, green leather armchair.