Ricardo (The Santiago Brothers Book Three) (21 page)

“How is this pertinent to the operation?”

“Because she’ll be at the embassy with us whenever Abdul decides to show his face,” Daniels answered in a bored tone. “I’ll expect you to be on your game, Santiago, and your attentions not diverted to your beautiful crush.”

Ric’s blood heated to near boiling point. The embassy was still a fifteen-minute drive away — too long for Ric to control his temper and not knock Ross out. “With all due respect, sir, when have I not been on my game? I’ve recovered a missing United States Marshal and uncovered details about the plot against the embassy.”

“You’re forgetting your dead source.”

Hakeem. He’d never forget the man who acted as his surrogate father. No, he couldn’t save Hakeem, but Hakeem saved him. Saved both he and Mel. The man deserved a medal.
No, he deserved his life.

Now, I must go…forever.

“Hakeem mentioned retiring after this operation. He would’ve wanted to go out in a hail of gunfire. His wife and son are dead. His life was working with me and the agency. If he’d lived, he’d be dead in six months, guaranteed. When a man stops working, he dies.”

The last phrase was an excuse Hakeem used an operation or two ago when Ric asked him how long he planned to continue putting his life on the line instead of enjoying his remaining years on a beach somewhere, sipping mojitos. Hakeem had laughed off Ric’s insistence that he retire sooner, and now Ric wondered if Hakeem intended to live through this operation.
Did he know?
He wasn’t a man to unnecessarily create a situation where he’d lose his life and he wasn’t prone to suicide…
Guess some people really do know when their time is up.
Ric refused to think about his own mortality, which helped his sanity in his profession. But now, life and death held a new meaning, and it was all because of a certain Deputy US Marshal.

“It’s not like he can predict his own demise,” Ross spewed. “Boss, you’re not really buying this, are you? The way Ric has run this operation would be laughable if it didn’t end in a dead source. His handling is shoddy, and the intelligence collection questionable. Even
if
Abdul plans to attack the embassy, we still don’t have a date and time, which was information Ric was
supposed
to confirm during this operation. We could be on lockdown for weeks! And let’s not forget Ric’s inability to tell when a source is playing him. He was
completely
oblivious to Hassan’s financing of terrorist operations!”

Count to ten.
Those were wise words his mother had taught Ric when he and his brothers were younger. Whenever they got mad at one another — which was often — the best course of action was to count to ten and then decide whether or not they really wanted to say what was in their heads or throw that punch. As rambunctious boys who always got into trouble, they never quite mastered this principle.

Ross cried out when Ric’s fist impacted the slender bridge of his hawk-like nose. Blood instantly flowed, following the telltale sounds of bone breaking. Ric drew his arm back for the second punch; he aimed for the man’s eye socket when he felt a firm grip on his biceps and his body being dragged back against the seat. Ben and Daniels held him back, their shouts muffled beneath the sound of Ric’s own growls, as he struggled to break free.

“You son of a… You broke my nose!”

“That’s not all I’m gonna break, McNulty! Argh, let go of me!”

“Santiago, calm down!” Daniels shoved Ric against the doorframe. He pointed a finger in his face, his stern look a warning for him to cease. “Save it for the enemy.”

“Is that an order, sir?”

“Don’t push me, Santiago, or I’ll have you shipped back to Langley to sit at a desk all day doing translations.”

At one point in time, the idea of being confined to a nine-to-five schedule in a cubicle on some floor of a nondescript building terrified him. The soul-sucking work of keeping to a never-changing schedule and clocking hours on a time card would’ve been a death sentence, but now, being out of the field and away from danger held a greater appeal than ever before.
Melody did this to me.
Meeting her had made him question his life choices and whether or not it was possible for Ricardo Santiago — daredevil and self-proclaimed lifetime bachelor — to fall in love and settle into a nice, routinely boring life. Somehow, life with the feisty Melody Lewis promised to be anything but dull.

“I want this guy reprimanded!”

With a sigh, Daniels sat back in his seat. “He will, Ross, he will.”

“He broke my nose!”

“And that hasn’t stopped you from talking, has it? Relax. We’ll get it set at the embassy. But for now,” he eyed both Ric and Ross from narrowed lids, “I want the two of you to steer clear of each other. Do I make myself clear? If it doesn’t have anything to do with thwarting this attack, I don’t want you to say two words to each other. Understand?”

Neither man said a word as they stared each other down.

“Ric’s source and his relationship with Ms. Lewis are topics that are off-limits. If there were any errors in handling Hakeem or impropriety in dealing with Ms. Lewis, I and I alone will handle it.”

“I’m filing a complaint with HR,” Ross said with half a whimper. His eyes had filled with tears, possibly due to the pain of the break.

“You do that, Ross, but for now, we’re all going to keep our heads in the game and stop this attack. That is the number-one priority.” Daniels wiped the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand. He pulled out a cell phone from his coat pocket. “I’ll have the medics on standby so you can get that nose fixed as soon as we arrive, Ross. After that, I want you back on the job.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Ric.” Daniels turned to him with the phone at his ear. “How’s your hand?”

Ric didn’t need to look at his knuckles to know they wouldn’t even hold a bruise. “Fine.” He cocked a grin at Ross. “Wasn’t that hard of a hit anyway.”

“Don’t even think about it, Ross,” Daniels said, seeing the fair-skinned man go from lightly flushed to blood-red. Daniels frowned at Ric, who didn’t care about the consequences of picking a fight with Ross. He’d win any day of the week.

Five minutes later, the SUV pulled into the highly secured underground parking level of the US Embassy. Upon putting the vehicle in park, Ross immediately jumped out and ran to the access door. “I need a medic!” he screeched when the door opened.

The rest of the vehicle’s occupants jogged to the entrance. “I want intel updates every fifteen minutes. You got that, Ben?” Daniels asked when they entered the elevator.

“Yes, sir.”

“Ric, I need you to reach out to your contacts on the ground and re-confirm the information you gathered in Saudi Arabia. I don’t want any fact uncorroborated.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I want to stop this before it goes any further. The second we can go tactical and take these guys out on the street, I want it done.”

Ric rubbed his palms together in eager anticipation of the rest of the day’s events. There would be no rest until the threat was mitigated. His focus had to be one hundred percent on capturing or killing the terrorists and protecting the lives of the US citizens still housed in the facility.

One citizen in particular meant more to him than his own life, and if he had to, he’d lay it down to protect her.
God, please, give me the strength this time to not fail.

****

As soon as Mel was settled into a room, she immediately went to the phone on the bedside table. “Does this dial out?” she asked the security guard who had escorted her to the room.

“Uh, yes ma’am.”

He didn’t sound too sure. “I need to call home and the office.”

“Ms. Lewis, do you need any assistance?” A petite woman in a navy blue pantsuit and a high-top bun entered the room from behind the security guard. “My name is Jennifer. What can I help you with?”

“I thought all embassy personnel except for security and agency personnel had been evacuated.”

“No, ma’am, not all. Some are deemed essential personnel and are required to remain. Did I hear you mention needing to use the telephone?”

“Yes, you did.” Mel was relieved to hear the dial tone when she placed the receiver to her ear. “I’d like to make a couple of calls, if that’s okay. I really need to call my parents, and I have to call the office.”

“I understand. We’ve been asked to keep all personal calls to the absolute minimum.”

Mel stood to her full five feet, eleven inches height. “I get what you’re saying, but I was
kidnapped
. There have probably been some news reports on me. At the very least, I know my parents have either called my boss or gone to the FBI to report that I hadn’t phoned in a few days. I’d like to reassure them that I’m all right. It’s protocol I at least inform my boss, Deputy US Marshal Cord Phillips, that I’ve been recovered.”

Her size appeared to have adequately intimidated the woman as she took a step back and with a nod of her head, she voiced her approval. “Okay, but please make it quick.”

Mel sank into the mattress, relieved at the prospect of hearing her mother’s voice on the other end of the line. Jennifer instructed her on how to place an outside call and within a few seconds, Mel heard the joyful cries of her mother and father at the sound of her voice.

“When will you be home, baby?” Her mother’s eager question came through the line.

Mel shrugged as if she were visible to her parents. “I’m not sure. We’re on lockdown here, but keep that to yourself. It shouldn’t be too much longer, and then I expect I’ll be put on the next flight out of here.”

“Well, thank the Lord you’re safe. What happened to you out there? How were you rescued?”

After explaining she didn’t have the time to go into details, and promising them a full account later, she regretfully disconnected the line and dialed her boss’s number.

“Lewis? How in the world?”

“It’s a long story, boss, trust me.”

“Well, it’s good to hear your voice. The team has been worried sick about you.”

“I appreciate it. Hopefully, I’ll be home in a few days.”

“When you get a chance, call Ale.”

“You called Alejandro?” Mel was surprised her boss would phone her former partner. Sure, they were friends and kept in touch now that he had transferred to a different division and was living in Virginia with his new wife and stepson, but telling Ale about her disappearance would only worry him when there was literally nothing he could do about it — and he was the type of man who’d do something, just like his younger brother Ric.

“You know I’d call him. It’s something he’d want to know about for sure. Look, I understand you can’t talk long and I get that you probably have already used up your allotted phone calls, so if you want, I’ll phone him and let him know. But you know he’ll want to talk to you personally.”

“Yes, sir, I know.” Ale was very protective of the members of his team when he worked as the lead for an undercover operation against a known drug trafficker last year. His oversight bordered on obsessive, and Mel had to remind him often that he wasn’t the only capable agent. “I’d appreciate it if you’d let him know. I’m not sure when I’ll be able to phone again. We’re on high alert here.”

“Understood. Stay safe, Lewis.”

“Thank you, sir, I will.”

Mel replaced the receiver and closed her eyes. She released a sigh that her lungs had been harboring for days. The embassy was still under a heightened threat alert, but now more than ever she considered herself out of any immediate danger.

“If you’d like to take a shower, it’s through that door behind you.” Jennifer pointed to a closed door on the opposite side of the bed. “I’ll bring you some fresh clothes and I’ll have some food brought up, unless you want to eat with the others in the ops room.”

“Thank you. I’ll eat in the ops room.” Mel rose and circled the bed to the bathroom. A long, hot shower sounded luxurious, and the sooner she could have one, the better the situation would seem.

“Towels and washcloths are already in the bathroom. If you need anything else, I’ll be back shortly.”

“Thank you,” Mel said over her shoulder.

Mel didn’t at all feel bad about using the water in the longest shower she’d ever taken in her life. Although the bath in Ric’s tent was surprisingly very spa-like and soothing, she preferred to know the dirt was rinsed off and flowed down a drain. It would take too long to dry her natural hair, so she towel-dried it as best she could and quickly braided it in one long plait down the center of her head.

With a fresh pair of pants and a polo shirt on, Mel followed her security guard down to the operations room where Daniels, Ric, Ben, Ross — with some sort of patch on his nose — and several other analysts had gathered. It sounded like a war room: people talked on the phone, Daniels barked orders and demanded answers to questions analysts researched on their computers. When she locked eyes with Ric, he winked and grinned. Mel returned his grin with one of her own.

Mel was offered a seat and a folder filled with photographs of the area’s most well-known terrorists was shoved in front of her. Immediately, she flipped through the pictures in an attempt to identify a few of her attackers. Abdul’s face she could never forget, but she’d only seen a handful of his men during a couple of instances: when she was first brought before the sheik, and during the desert firefight. If any one of them walked around the camp when she was outside of Ric’s tent, she didn’t take the time to memorize their features as she was more concerned about hiding her own.

“Take your time. But I’m sure you already know that since this is kinda your line of work,” a deep voice came from behind.

Identify perps, yes. Catching terrorists? This was her first go ’round. Ric took a seat beside her, phone to his ear. “Wouldn’t you be better at this? You know Hassan’s men.”

“That’s the point. The men we’re looking for
aren’t
Hassan’s. Abdul has his own entourage and his men are able to mooch off Hassan’s generosity due to their connection with Abdul. I remember a few of the faces, yes, but trying to distinguish them from temporary workers Hassan hired just for that weekend…”