Acres, Natalie - Cowboy Boots and Unsettled Debts [Cowboy Boots 3] (Siren Publishing LoveXtreme Forever) (2 page)

Relationships, particularly hidden affairs, had a way of clouding one’s judgment. The unit couldn’t afford mistakes.

Since Conrad’s death, Abby’s behavior had been placed under a microscope. The higher-ups believed she was unstable. Some claimed she’d transformed into a Dr. Jekyll and Mrs. Hyde. Brock didn’t buy their assessment in its entirety.

Prior to their meeting, Brock talked to several team members. The guys held Abby in high regard. Their admiration was duly noted.
 

Brock picked up a bulging folder and nodded toward the thick packet as he handed the documents to Porter, seated at his immediate right. “Pass this back.” A beat later, Brock said, “Abby, you’ll be the most valuable, but also the most vulnerable, agent on this mission. That said, you’re expected to follow orders. Step out of line, and I’ll pull you off this case myself. Time won’t be wasted when and if a replacement becomes necessary.”

“I suppose you have someone else standing in line to jumpstart a devil?”

She made a good point, but he could provide an answer Ms. Rose most likely failed to expect. “Actually, I do. Veronica Remington has volunteered and is standing by. If something goes wrong, she’ll take your place.” And the Remington men were pitching a fucking fit over this, too. Veronica was the last resort, and Brock hoped like hell he didn’t have to call Sloane and ask him to send Veronica inside.

Abby shook her head. Blonde curls tumbled across her shoulders. “Mr. Donovan, I don’t have to paint you a picture. If I’m pulled off this case for any reason, you’ll have to put me down like a rabid dog. I won’t go away. I’m not backing down. I can fly solo and achieve a satisfying end result like anyone else affiliated with the Underground Unit.

“I’ll try to follow orders—I always do—but just so we understand one another, I’m not stepping aside for anyone. I respect Veronica, but—”

“But what?” Brock demanded. “She doesn’t have a pussy in this fucking mess?”

Abby gritted her teeth. Her gaze, narrowed.

“I hope you’re not implying what I think you’re implying,” Brantley Barclay said, crossing his arms.

“Answer me, Ms. Rose. Are you willing to volunteer your body?” he asked, deliberately changing his first intended meaning. “See, that’s what I need to know. How far are you willing to go, Ms. Rose? Hmm? Are you willing to get lost in the throes of passion, screwing for that kill everyone here wants you to take? Are you?” He swallowed once. “More importantly,
will
you?”

“I imagine Sloane and those other handsome hunks Veronica takes to her bed would forever be indebted to me if that’s a service I’m later asked to provide.” Abby jerked as she spoke. He’d appropriately challenged her and she fired right back. He admired her spunk.

Abby’s eyelids thinned, nearly closed over her misty blue gaze. Quietly, she added, “Everyone here wants Mendete. We’re willing to do whatever it takes to bring him down.”

“But you think Juraz Mendete is yours. Don’t you?”

Abby gulped, and to Brock’s surprise, she also went pale. He’d gotten to her, but she didn’t have to worry. He owned the potential to break her, but he wouldn’t do it today. She’d been through enough. She’d buried a friend and mentor, perhaps even a lover.

“Is your hatred vile enough to carry you straight into bed with the enemy? Could you fuck him like you’ll never have another chance, then place a knife to his throat and take the opportunity given when he closes his eyes and goes to sleep?

“Could you watch the blood ooze out of his veins, cut off his dick and put that sucker in his mouth where it belongs? Afterwards, could you fight your way out of his mansion, killing the bodyguards who dare to step in front of you, blocking your way to freedom?”

“I’ve heard enough,” Ace grumbled.

Brock sneered at Ace’s interference. “Maybe you have, but she hasn’t.” He glared harder at Abby. “Answer me.”

“One never knows what extreme measures they’re willing to take until they’re placed in a position destined to even the score. Do they, Mr. Donovan?”

Brock flinched. She was right about that. Very often operatives were forced to follow their own conscience. They made life-or-death decisions on the spur of the moment realizing the consequences, if there were in fact repercussions, would fall upon their burdened shoulders and no one else’s.

“To answer your question, I plan to leave Juraz the same way Conrad was discovered. The only difference is there won’t be cover-ups to hide the truth. Live footage will clutter the Internet within an hour of the devil’s demise.”

“And why would you do something crazy like that?” He was satisfied with her reply, but tried not to show his approval.

“Because once this war starts, I don’t want it to end until it’s truly over. I don’t want to keep looking over my shoulder when I go home at night.

“I refuse to lie down in the evening, uncertain if I’ll wake up the next morning with another day ahead of me.” A beat later, she added, “If we don’t eliminate Juraz and his followers, they’ll keep coming, Mr. Donovan.

“Once we start this with Juraz, we have to finish it. There’s no turning back because that’s why we’re here in the first place.

“Conrad patched problems. He didn’t fix them. He was our leader, but he made poor decisions detrimental to his family and this team. We can’t make the same mistakes again.”

Brock was relieved. Originally, he’d suspected Abby wanted to torture Juraz and piss off the entire Mendete organization in the process. Regrettably, he allowed senior advisors to fill his head with nonsense. They were old-school and often berated women in the field. Clearly, Abby was disturbed by recent events that threatened to tear her unit apart, but she wasn’t a loose cannon.

After the Colombian cartel’s boss, a quite coveted leader, fell from grace, there would be nonstop hell to pay. Apparently, Abby and the others were prepared for whatever Mendete’s men held in store.

“Don’t worry, Brock,” Brantley said, “we won’t drag this out. Juraz Mendete is a soulless creature who needs to be exterminated, but there’s a misconception associated with his organization. He is the front man. He’s the cartel’s face, but he’s diabolical and prepared for anything. You can bet your sweet ass there’s someone ready to fill his shoes once he’s eradicated.”

Brock processed. This division was well-informed. They knew how to handle their problems, take out their targets.

Regardless of the vast differences between this mission and those in the past, these agents would stand ready. Typically, Underground Unit operatives were protectors. They took lives that weren’t worth saving in order to guard those that were. But this operation was about revenge.

Very few assignments were approved for avengement. When the commanding unit handed down an order based on retaliation, justice would be served even if comeuppance meant bringing in all divisions affiliated with the Underground Unit.

“Don’t make me regret sending you in first,” Brock snapped, eyeing Abby.

“You won’t,” she assured him. “We know what we need to do. If we let you down, we let ourselves down. That won’t happen.”

Brock was a critical thinker. He considered what Abby might have witnessed when she found the McDaniels family.

She was one of the first agents on the scene. She had motive for desiring a swift end to the Juraz Mendete organization. The lady certainly exhibited the courage needed to see this thing through, but did she possess the skills required to execute a kill order effectively?

Yes, he reasoned. Abby was fully trained and if anyone could separate business from personal, Brock believed Abby could. In fact, he’d be surprised if the mission was anything but successful. The unit’s need for revenge was the glue, the one element certain to hold this team together. Vengeance was the key ingredient that guaranteed this division—especially Abby—achieved goals.

According to the initial debriefings, Abby and another operative—Porter Grills—found the McDaniels family hours before they called in the local authorities. The coroner reports and estimated time of death for the deceased individuals didn’t match the collected data documented by Grills and Rose. Brock had always suspected foul play in the investigation. So far Abby neither confirmed nor put to rest his suspicions.

The gruesome murder-site photographs led investigators to question what might have happened. There were too many misplaced items to document facts surrounding the case. Bodies appeared to have been moved. Brock shuddered as he considered what the crime scene might have looked like prior to Porter and Abby discovering the McDaniels family.

Pulling himself back to the present, Brock said, “Too much confidence will get you killed, Ms. Rose. Go in with that attitude and you may end up dead before the first cock strokes.” Maybe he could convey a warning they’d better understand. “You’ll be greatly disappointed if the climactic moment you’re in search of ends with a bullet in your head. If you aren’t on guard all the time, that’s the way this could play out.” He glanced around the room. “That goes for all of you.”

“Conrad may be dead, but his shoes are far too big for you to fill, Mr. Donovan. Who left you in charge of our team?” Abby asked. “With all due respect—or none at all, your choice—we never needed someone to tell us how to do our damn jobs in the past. Just because this is personal, doesn’t mean we need a fucking outsider from another unit coaching us from the sidelines.”

“You’re treading on dangerous ground, Ms. Rose,” Brock warned, thinking someone should’ve advised Abby of his recent promotion.

“She ain’t the only one,” Ace said, massaging his neck, arching a brow, and acting as if he were ready for the meeting to adjourn.

Casey Mayes stood. He glared at Brock like he was the new mark. Fowler Jennings shook his head as if the gesture alone would deter Brock from further agitating Abby.

Porter leaned back in his chair and grunted. Brantley remained stoic. He and Ace were the team’s deadly duo. Sudden shifts in their demeanors proved alarming.

Brock had somehow managed to infuriate the wrong men. He wasn’t afraid but definitely uneasy. Apparently, they didn’t see and hear what provoked Brock. Abby’s mouth should’ve been a condemned restricted area where limited use was only granted under supervised care.

He had a few recommendations of what Abby’s fellow team members could stuff there for proper restraint. Now wasn’t the time or place to further agitate the situation.

Abby sat erect, motionless. “In case you haven’t heard, these boys here take care of me. I’m not afraid of a little red dot shining between my eyes. It won’t happen. They’ve always got my back.”

“Have they ever watched you in action while you’re lying flat on your stomach with hands tied and secured, your body exposed and damp? Have they ever watched you fuck, Ms. Rose?”

No one grunted or gasped then. Still, the response he wanted marked the other operatives’ faces.
There we go. That’s what I’m looking for
.

He was on sacred ground now.

Jaws set. Several pairs of eyes held icy stares. Spines straightened. If these guys thought he’d back down, they were due to face more disappointment. He’d tread softly, but he’d still walk the path he was destined to follow.

“Answer me, Ms. Rose. Have you ever been on a sensitive mission where your fellow operatives stood by and waited for you to finish performing fellatio on your target? Have they seen you on your knees slurping the end of an enemy’s prick, acting as if you’ve never been so aroused in all your life?”

He watched Abby for a reaction. When she didn’t retaliate, he continued, “Have they looked on as you submitted to a Dom while you convinced the asshole you’re at his disposal and ready to serve, eager to please?” A beat later, he taunted her. “No? I didn’t think so, Ms. Rose.”

He leaned over the long table and snarled. “See, I don’t think you’ve got it in you to be a crime lord’s whore, but I could be wrong. Maybe I should ask you to demonstrate on one of these guys first. Then we can all assess your readiness to go undercover.”

“That’s enough!” Ace jumped across a chair and leaped toward him.

Brantley threw his arm against Ace’s gut, stopping him from coldcocking Brock. “Ace is right. You’ve said more than enough here today,” Brantley grated out.

Abby tossed aside the business packet. The documents scattered across the slick table surface when she rose to face her accuser.

Brock studied her approach, noting the confidence of one strong-willed woman. One thing about it, Abby Rose wasn’t afraid.

She wanted revenge. Vindictiveness spun through her veins, but she was capable of containing her anger. At the moment, she must’ve planned to take matters into her own hands, if for no other reason than to prove she could defend herself. Determination marked its place in her eyes. And attitude—well, she owned plenty of that.

“Take a seat,” Brock demanded.

“We’re not done here, Donovan,” she rasped. “Not by a long shot.”

Brock avoided women like Abby. He didn’t have the patience for them. There were very few females in the Underground Unit, but those the Unit trained must’ve believed they possessed harder balls than any man around.

“I don’t have time for this shit,” Brock said, pointing to the chair she’d vacated.

“I think we need to get a few things straight,” Abby remarked, walking to the other side of the conference table so she could stare at her mark—him—at point-blank range.