Forged in Steele (KGI #7)(51)

“Shit,” Resnick muttered. “This isn’t good. It isn’t good at all. Our chances of finding him again are slim at best. This was the closest anyone has been able to get to him. He’s always one step ahead of the game. Every time we get close, he disappears again. This has been going on for years.”

“He’s going to Paris. What can you dig up, Resnick?” Sam demanded.

Resnick ran his hand through his hair and then promptly dug out a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He lit one and inhaled deeply before blowing out a long plume of smoke.

“Hell if I know,” he admitted. “The last three surgeons he used—that we know of—were found dead the day after his surgery. If he’s going to Paris to have the surgery done, whoever the unfortunate bastard is who does it will likely be dead within twenty-four hours. Mendoza is careful and leaves nothing to chance. You saw what Maren wrote. The ass**le left his men with their balls hanging in the wind. He expected you to do his dirty work and eliminate everyone who worked for him.”

“I want every last one questioned,” Steele said. “I want a full report of everything they say, any information they can provide, no matter how insignificant it may seem. And I want to know the last time Mendoza was seen here and when he disappeared. If he’s already on his way to Paris with Maren, then our time is running out. Resnick, you get me whatever you can find on the type of plastic surgeon in Paris that Mendoza might use. I don’t give a shit who you have to blow to get the information.”

Then he turned to Dolphin.

“Have my team meet me at the chopper. Tell them to get moving now.”

Dolphin nodded and turned away. Steele surveyed the group gathered in the living room and eyed Sam unflinchingly.

“My mission. My way. This is personal. He f**ked with one of our own. I’m going to take this bastard down with or without your say-so. I’d rather do it with KGI, but if you give me any grief over this, I’m walking and taking my team with me.”

Sam’s eyebrows rose, and he exchanged glances with Rio and Donovan, who seemed equally taken aback by Steele’s heated proclamation.

“It’s yours,” Sam said slowly. “But you keep me in the loop every step of the way. I want to know when, where and how at all times. Maren is important to all of us. I’m not going to hang her out to dry on this.”

“Fuck no,” Rio muttered. Then he looked up at Steele. “If you need backup, call me. My team will be available the minute you give us the word.”

Steele nodded. “I appreciate that and I will call if I need the help. This is too important to f**k up.”

“I’m going with you,” Donovan said quietly. “That’s not negotiable.”

“Fine, as long as you remember—”

Donovan cut him off before he could finish. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Your mission. Your way. Don’t worry. I’m not going to step on your toes.”

“As long as we understand each other. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to meet with my team so we can pull the hell out of here and hop a plane.”

“Don’t worry about us,” Sam said dryly. “We’ll handle the cleanup here.”

Steele didn’t respond. He was already on his way out the door.

His team was waiting by the chopper, and they looked expectantly at him when he walked up.

“What’s the deal?” Cole demanded. “Where the f**k is Maren?”

“I’ll get to that,” Steele said shortly.

He looked intently at P.J., who was standing with a worried frown on her face.

“Maren isn’t here. Best we know is Mendoza has her and is on his way to Paris for plastic surgery. Apparently he wants Maren’s skills to aid him in his recovery.”

“Fuck,” P.J. muttered.

“We’re going after her, but P.J., I need to know if you can handle this.”

Her brows furrowed and she shot him a what-the-f*ck look.

“We don’t know what we’re going to find,” he said softly. “Mendoza has had her in his possession for a while now. He’s keeping her with him, and by her own admission, she’s scared out of her mind. Maren doesn’t scare easily, so in my mind she has a reason to be afraid of this ass**le. I need to be sure you can handle this. You aren’t going to piss me off if you stand down from this mission.”

There was a fierce glitter in P.J.’s eyes. Cole’s arm automatically went around her in support, and he squeezed her shoulders.

“I’ll be fine,” P.J. said in a quiet voice. “Maren has seen most of us through our worst. No way I’m going to wimp out on her when she needs us the most. And if that ass**le has hurt her in any way, I’ll remove his balls myself.”

Cole grinned and Dolphin muttered a hooyah.

Steele nodded. “Okay, now that we have that out of the way, we’re pulling out and hauling ass to Paris. Resnick’s going to dig up any intel he has on plastic surgeons who have the skill level required for extensive restructuring and get it to us as soon as possible. In the meantime, we’re going wheels up.”

CHAPTER 19

MAREN quietly entered the bedroom where Mendoza—or rather Tristan Caldwell, as he’d renamed himself—was resting. He stirred when she approached. She’d long since gotten over her surprise at how lightly he slept, even when he was fresh out of surgery and drugged on painkillers. He was alert and aware, but then he seemed to have good reason to fear being killed in his sleep. He’d doubtless made many enemies in his lifetime. Or maybe he didn’t fully trust her not to try to murder him. She wished she had the courage, because if she did she’d be sorely tempted.