Jax (Titan #9)(82)
Jorge didn't know what he had missed. The animosity and hostility among the men was overpowering. Deacon seemed on edge, and Jorge smiled, enjoying the irony.
The Americano was making bad decision after bad decision. Upsetting Hernán, fighting with the people he had chosen over the Suarez cartel. Preoccupation would cloud Deacon's mind and make Jorge's job even easier.
Deacon walked into the middle of the group, slowly postulating from one side to the next, then ended toe to toe with a big Italian–looking guy. Those two were the ones who'd had it out, no doubt. Deacon said what he needed to then peeled off. Jorge watched the back-and-forth, observing the hostility between the two factions. The dark-haired Italian split moments later.
He watched the two men turn the corner from the group and split. The Italian headed for the elevator, and Jorge's prey went toward the stairwell. How predictable. The CIA agent wouldn't be trapped in a small box.
He stalked that way, the rush from the anticipation of the kill tickling his veins and hyperfocusing his mind.
Quietly, Jorge slid open the stairwell door and listened for which way Deacon had gone. The agent's steps were barely audible, but with a lock on the sound, Jorge moved in, shuffling silently behind.
It only took seconds to pad quietly behind the man, wait, and walk by casually. Deacon's mind had been elsewhere, and he was a half-second too slow as Jorge's lightning-quick skills let him snap Deacon's neck.
He wished he would have been able to use one of the toys. No paralytic. No strangulation. Not even his favorite gun or knife.
He wasn't worried about Deacon's body being identified because the CIA would send a cleanup team to erase his existence and take care of the security footage for Jorge. Sometimes, offing agents was one of the easiest tasks.
He straightened his shirt, tucking in the back where it had loosened, then continued down the stairs and over to the coffee bar. He ordered himself a drink then sent a signal to his boss that would be read as three simple words.
"It is done."
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
The empty hotel suite was like a black hole. It sucked Jax in. There was no escape, and even though he knew Seven was gone, he couldn't fight the feeling that she had just been there.
Bile sloshed in his stomach. Desperate to be analytical and find anything she may have left behind, he knew it was a lost cause when he walked in. "Seven?" Goddamn it, he was too late. "Are you in here?"
The mere seconds it took him to move through the suite and check the bathroom were a waste. The instant he'd thrown open the door, Jax knew she was gone. He could feel it in a desperate, terrifying way.
He saw no signs of a struggle. Seven would fight. No doubt Parker was pulling security footage now, but the cartel could slip her out of the building unseen in any number of ways. He walked to the desk, and his eyes dropped. A note?
What the hell was that?
Hi, Jax. I need time to myself and went for a walk. Don't wait up, not sure when I'll be back. I'll check in when I can. xxoo
Fucking hell. What did they do to get her to write that? He reached for his cell phone and called Boss Man, who picked up on the first ring.
"Hey, she left a note—"
Jared cut him off. "Where are you?"
"Where the fuck do you think I am? Seven's room."
"It takes you that long to find a note?"
Jesus Christ. What crawled up Boss Man's ass? It wasn't as if he were dicking around. Maybe he took his sweet time looking around a small room. Maybe he had a hard time with the fact that his girl was gone and every single step tortured him. But he didn't need Jared's damn attitude right now. "Yeah, man. What the hell? Seven left a damn note. Are you interested?"
"Truthfully, Jax, I'm interested in why it took you so long to find a note in a room that's two hundred square feet. Where the fuck was the note?"
"Her desk." Jax wasn't hiding his frustration at all, and that wasn't a great idea after getting into a fight with Deacon earlier. Everybody had an issue with Jax's attitude. But at the moment, he gave no fucks. They wanted him to work faster? Two minutes wasn't going to make a difference when it came to processing the fact that Seven wasn't there and he was losing his shit. "Look, man. Seven. That's the only thing I'm going to think about and worry about."
"Sugar's on her way to you now. I have something I have to figure out, and I will be there in a second. Don't leave that room."
Where the hell did Jared think Jax was going to go? To the strip or to get a beer? Catch a little R and R? A knock sounded on the door, signaling the arrival of his least favorite fan. "She's here," he said, grinding his molars. "I'm not going anywhere, and I'll see you when I see you."
Jax threw the notepad down and stormed to open the door. He had a key card to Seven's room but was surprised that Sugar's forceful knock didn't knock the door down. He twisted the door handle, and Sugar pushed through, a leather-clad bulldozer imitating what Jared sounded like but in real life. "Well, hey to you too."
She walked through the room, not acknowledging he was there, then traced the same path to the bedroom and bathroom and came back. She slammed her hands onto her hips. "So?"
So? Well, fuck you too, Sugar. "Seven left a note. It's total bullshit."