Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 49215 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 246(@200wpm)___ 197(@250wpm)___ 164(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49215 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 246(@200wpm)___ 197(@250wpm)___ 164(@300wpm)
The question was what came first. Money or honor.
Adrien had no preference in the matter, so he was just bullshitting to fish for more intel. He played the devil’s advocate, he encouraged Marco to do what was right for the Family, and he offered his input on future affiliations if they had a larger presence in Europe.
One of Marco’s guards nodded at me. “You don’t speak Spanish, no?”
Fuck, don’t talk to me.
I lifted a brow slightly.
He smirked. “They say, uh…you are American mercenary. Señor Delgado hires the best only.”
I didn’t have to come up with a response, because one of the other guards, one who looked older and possibly ranked higher—fuck if I knew—shut the guy up.
Elliott Jones
“They’re in,” Coach announced. “Fuck yeah. This is better than sex. I need a smoke.”
You’re not having sex right, my friend.
I tossed him my pack of cigarettes, then continued hauling the tarp back into one of the Jeeps. The campsite had to be broken down, all evidence of our having been here gone, well before it got dark.
I hadn’t been worried about Joel, Reese, and Danny getting in. Now, though… Now, I was worried. Working in intelligence and infiltration usually meant fewer high-speed chases, explosions, and planning on the go. Which was essentially what we had left. The plan could, from now on, change every fucking second.
“So is everybody smoking again?” Emerson asked, annoyed.
“You’re not my daddy,” Coach said, tapping away on his laptop. With a smoke dangling between his lips.
Em sighed and went back to his own laptop. He was waiting for an update from Darius, and frankly, so was I. We knew they were following Carillo through France, from one safehouse to another, and we couldn’t afford to lose him for a minute.
“Did you get the message to Crew about Shay taking cover?” Cullen asked as he passed us with two of the tents.
“Yeah, but he hasn’t responded yet,” Coach answered. “Mercier’s gonna have to work his magic for them to get close to Shay again.”
Emerson seemed to think Mercier was plenty magical. The jury was still out, in my opinion. Crew had fucked up spectacularly, only to spin shit around and make up for it tenfold; without him and his damn Fed, we’d still be wandering around aimlessly. That said, I was too worried about the kid and all the risks to cast Mercier as a good guy.
We’d been fucked over before.
I looked over at River, where he was stowing away his and Reese’s tent.
Everyone had someone to worry about.
I could only hope, if Blake and Marisa really were on the move right now, they weren’t suffering too much. I prayed they had each other. That they were being held together.
“Incoming from James and Griffin,” Coach said. “Our ride out of here will be on standby from zero five hundred, and they’re available to us for thirty-six hours.”
“Are they in the area already?” Emerson wondered.
Coach nodded and blew out some smoke. “Custody battle turned extraction in El Salvador.”
Been there, done that.
I shook my head to myself and picked up the pace—and I kinda hoped Coach and Em would talk more about…anything. As long as I could keep my mind off Blake, Joel, Crew…
Goddammit.
Reese Tenley
“Wall perimeter check complete,” I said, out of breath. “Approximately six feet high, solid concrete, razor wire on top, all surveillance pointing outward, copy.” I stopped suddenly and raised a fist, halting Danny and Joel behind me, as I caught movement about forty yards away. It was another couple of kids, judging by the size of their frames in my night-vision monocle. They really were free to move around the entire area, within the walls.
“Copy that,” Emerson responded, followed shortly by Elliott.
Joel, Danny, and I ducked low and took a breather.
“Status update follows,” I continued. Danny handed me a bottle of water, and I chugged half of it hurriedly. “We estimate the property is roughly fifteen acres—the only area too hot to go near is the entrance. Too many guards, heavier surveillance.” As we’d expected. “Once you’re over the wall, you have about fifty yards of thick vegetation and trees before a network of stone paths and dirt trails takes over. Children roam freely within the walls, with the occasional sicario walking by with a rifle. No problem finding hiding spots.”
I nodded for Danny to take over because I had to drink more. Joel and I had jogged, trekked, and sprinted the entire goddamn perimeter, just following the inside of the wall, while Danny had scouted the main estate by himself.
“The goal tonight is to keep the fight near the entertainment patios and amphitheater,” Danny reported. “If we let the Blancos and their higher-ups escape to the estate, they can be in the air within five minutes. They have three helipads, two on the ground, one on the roof, with three birds at the ready. Final estimate on security, maybe thirty sicarios in civilian clothes with rifles, primarily AK-47s and some more modern ones. Around twenty uniformed guards—these fuckers have had training. They patrol the area in pairs using four-wheelers, they have modern tech and comms, and we think their command center is located next to the main estate.”