Exposed (15 page)

None of it was enough to protect the man inside it.

It had taken two days for him to check out the tips he’d been given and track Garcia here. Alvarez’s enforcer had rung up quite the body count over the past few months, evading enemies and law enforcement at every turn. But Bautista had resources they didn’t. And now he was going to end him.

The hum of insects and the croak of frogs in the nearby creek acted as a backdrop and helped cover the tiny sounds he made as he pulled the components of his custom-made sniper rifle from his backpack.

He assembled them in less than a minute without looking, the motions automatic, ingrained from countless hours of drilling and training over the years. Setting the stock of the rifle against his shoulder, he peered through the high-powered scope.

He was a hundred percent certain Garcia was here. Now all he had to do was wait for him to make a mistake.

The forest suddenly went eerily silent.

Bautista lifted his head a fraction and held his breath. A heartbeat later, a slight noise pierced the quiet.

His blood went icy cold. He knew that sound. The distinctive punch of a round striking glass.

Someone had just taken a shot at his target.

He waited there, frozen in position for several long moments. The cicadas and frogs started up again, growing in volume, then went silent a few seconds later. He didn’t hear anyone moving in the greenway but he caught a faint blur of movement in his peripheral.

Turning his head, he held his position while he scanned the underbrush. A fern off in the distance moved slightly and he caught a glimpse of what could have been a leg disappearing behind a tree.

He wasn’t alone.

His heart rate kicked up slightly and his hands tensed around his weapon. He used his skills to focus on his surroundings, filtering out the natural sounds. No one had ever snuck up on him before, and no one was getting the drop on him tonight.

A full minute passed before he allowed himself to breathe a little easier. But he waited there without moving for another five. Nothing disturbed the insects in the area, their steady hum assuring him no one was moving around.

At least not close by. The shooter could be waiting at a distance though, scanning through his scope.

Moving slowly enough to avoid detection if anyone was using a scope, Bautista focused his attention on the target house once again. The kitchen light was still on downstairs, the blinds pulled down halfway. Both windows and the sliding glass door leading into it were still intact.

When he deemed it safe to move, he inched his way to the left, in the direction where he’d seen the disturbance in the undergrowth. There was no way the shooter could know he was here tonight. The only person who knew about the hit was Perez, and he would never sell Bautista out.

It took him nearly fifteen minutes to creep his way to a point where he could see around the far corner of the house. As soon as he focused on the window leading into the den, he saw it.

A single bullet hole in the floor-to-ceiling window, the glass spider-webbing around it.

There was no light on but as with the kitchen the blinds had been pulled halfway down. And when Bautista peered through his NVGs, he clearly saw the male body lying on the floor, unmoving.

Garcia.

His face was turned toward Bautista, his eyes partially open and the front of his shirt and the floor around him was covered with a dark stain. Dead as a fucking stone, from a single sniper shot to center mass. Not done by an amateur.

An unknown player was involved in the game and he didn’t like it. He needed to know everyone involved because it was too dangerous otherwise. Once he got clear he would contact Perez and inform him. He didn’t think anyone had been able to follow him or had seen him, but he couldn’t be positive.

Whoever the shooter was, he was well trained. And that meant Bautista needed to get the hell out of here, in case he was being targeted too.

It had been a long, long time—years—since the back of his neck had tingled like this while on a sniper mission. The last time it had happened was while he was in the jungle in Colombia, hunting a drug runner who’d made the fatal error of trying to fuck with Perez’s teenage daughter after meeting her in Miami.

The asshole had actually threatened to kidnap and torture her, so Bautista had been dispatched to take him out. He had, but that night someone had been hunting him. He never found out who it was, but he’d learned never to ignore his gut. And right now his gut was screaming at him that he was in danger.

He used every evasion trick he’d learned in the military as he made his way to the edge of the greenway, placing his feet carefully, his special boots leaving no clear footprints behind. The other side opened up into a park but he’d be exposed for at least ten seconds as he ran to the edge of the strip of trees bordering the opposite side.

The seconds ticked past as he waited there, poised and ready. There was no one around, not surprising given how late it was, and he didn’t see any movement. Finally, he burst from behind a thick stand of trees and raced for the thin line of trees lining the quiet street marking the edge of the next posh subdivision.

No one fired. He made it across, hunkered down in the shadows cast by the trees and took his bearings once more, sliding off his NVGs because of the streetlamps on the other side of the road.

His gaze landed on a partial footprint in the soft earth just before it gave way to the strip of grass that bordered the sidewalk. It was fresh, he could tell from the crispness of it. And when he investigated further, he found another close by.

Definitely boot prints. Several sizes smaller than his. The shooter was small, quick. Possibly even female.

He scanned the street on the far side of the greenway, found it empty. Whoever the shooter was, he was long gone. Bautista filed all the information away for later and quickly changed clothes, stowed his weapon and gear.

Wearing a dark gray hoodie, running shorts and tennis shoes, he slung his backpack over one shoulder and stepped out onto the sidewalk.

He made it to his rental vehicle parked two blocks away without incident, and he carefully checked it over for tracking or explosive devices or signs of tampering before climbing behind the wheel. Only when he was certain no one had planted anything did he turn the ignition.

He hooked up his hands-free device to make the call to Perez, then paused. The warning tingle at his nape was gone, but he knew someone had come close to seeing him tonight.

And if they’d somehow followed him or had watched him without knowing—he might have said it was impossible, but he’d learned nothing ever was—then he had something else to worry about.

Julia.

He’d never had to worry about anyone but himself before in this game, until now. She’d gotten under his skin. If someone was good enough to get a lock on his location tonight then they could know about her. They were supposed to go out tomorrow night but now it might not be safe for her. Or for him.

Going with his gut, he took out a burner phone and called her. Thankfully she answered on the second ring, sounding wide awake. “Hey, it’s me,” he said.

“Miguel?”

His heart beat faster at the sound of her voice. “Yeah.”

“What number are you calling me from? It came up as unavailable.”

“Did it?” He hoped his attempt at playing dumb was convincing. By now he was pretty good at it. “I just called to see if we were still on for tomorrow night.”

“Of course. But you wouldn’t call me this late to ask me that. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. What about you?”

When she hesitated, his hand tightened around the steering wheel. “I’m okay.”

She was lying. He knew her well enough to know when she sounded stressed, and she definitely did. “What’s wrong?” he demanded. He didn’t care about the danger to himself, if something was wrong he’d go straight to her place right now, make sure she was safe.

She made an indecisive sound and he pressed. “Julia. What’s the matter?”

“I don’t know. I just feel kind of unsettled, I guess.”

Nuh uh. She was hiding something. “Tell me.”

“I can’t prove anything, but I feel like someone’s been watching me lately.”

His hand tightened around the steering wheel.
Dammit
. “What do you mean?”

“It’s…nothing specific I can point to. Just a feeling. Like earlier tonight when I was out.”

He did not like this. “Are you at home right now?” he asked, making a sharp right to take a short cut to the highway. From here he could be at her place in under ten minutes.

“Yes, why?”

“I’m coming over. I’ll check your place out for you, make sure everything’s secure.”

“Don’t be silly. It’s almost midnight.” She sighed. “Look, it’s fine. I’ve got everything locked up tight and the alarm’s on. And I know I don’t look it, but trust me when I tell you, I can hold my own if anyone tried to get inside.”

That last bit took him by surprise, but he didn’t comment. “I should come look around. We’ll both feel better.”

“You’re so sweet, but no. I’ve had a long day and I just want to go to bed. I need my beauty sleep so I can look my best for you tomorrow.”

“You look beautiful every time I see you.”

A soft laugh came over the line, easing the tension in his shoulders, loosening the tightness in his chest. It felt good to care about someone again, and be cared about in return. Until her he hadn’t realized how lonely he’d become. “Flattery goes a long way with me.”

“It’s not flattery if it’s the truth.”

“I can’t wait until tomorrow night.” He could hear the smile in her voice.

She didn’t want to put him out by asking him to come over. He wasn’t going to argue about it, but he was going over to make sure her place was secure. He’d stop by, take a look around and ensure everything was as it should be, without her ever knowing. “Me neither. But I’ll text you a number you can reach me at if you need anything.”

“I will. Have a good night.”

“You too.”
And I’ll make sure you’re safe
.

He drove directly to her place, a detached townhouse in a middle-class neighborhood not far from the care home where his
abuela
was. When he pulled up her street he noticed immediately that her bedroom light upstairs was on, muted by the blinds she’d drawn to cover the window, but her truck was missing.

Her garage was too small for her to park in, it was basically a storage unit, and both times when he’d come by before—when he’d first been checking her out, unbeknownst to her—the black Ram had been parked in the spot directly out front. She always combat parked, he’d noticed, reversing into her spot rather than going in hood-first. Made getting away in a hurry a lot easier. Though he doubted she did it for that reason.

In case she’d parked elsewhere he circled her complex, but still didn’t see her truck. Maybe it was in the shop or something, or she’d lent it to a friend.

He got out of his vehicle and walked back to her unit to start his inspection of the exterior, his favorite pistol tucked into the holster at the small of his back. He’d check it all out and once he was satisfied that everything was secure, he’d leave.

It took all of ten minutes to complete what he wanted to do. There were no signs of any tampering and he didn’t notice anything suspicious. In the shadows across the street he peered up at the warm glow in her bedroom window. She was safe and warm up there, probably reading a book while tucked into her bed.

The thought brought him a surprising measure of peace and satisfaction.
Sleep tight, angel
, he sent to her.

When he turned back around he caught the red glow of a pair of taillights just as they disappeared around the corner at the far end of the road that ran in front of the complex. From this distance he couldn’t be sure, but he thought he’d seen a Ram’s head symbol on the back of the tailgate.

****

When Tuck tapped him on the shoulder to signal that everyone was in place, Ethan blew the charges he’d placed on the exterior security door. The solid locks and hinges blew apart.

Evers slammed a breaching tool against the ruined door, sending it flying inward, gaining them entry into the house where Alvarez was reported to be. Tuck and Bauer immediately tossed gas canisters into the room then moved into position on either side of the doorway. Shouts from inside started up as smoke filled the room.

Ethan moved into the room behind Bauer, MP-5 to his shoulder, gas mask protecting his eyes, nose and mouth from the burn of the gas. Infrared scans had shown three men in this room prior to the breach. There were four more elsewhere in the house, likely in the in-ground basement or the bunker beneath it.

One of them was Perez. All the intel they had indicated that he wouldn’t surrender willingly.

“FBI! Get down on the ground!” Tuck shouted as the team stormed in.

With the help of his NVGs Ethan immediately picked out the three tangos, two standing at the far right corner and the other to the left. Both men on the right reached for their weapons. Tuck and Vance fired, hitting them both as Bauer and Ethan swung to confront the man on the left. He turned to run.

“Freeze!” Bauer roared.

The guy did, stuck both hands in the air. Bauer held his position while Ethan approached. “On the ground, now,” he ordered. “Facedown.” The red dot of his laser sight lit up the center of the man’s chest.

Ethan kept his gaze locked on the man’s hands as the guy reluctantly got to his knees then laid down on his belly with his arms stretched out. Knowing Bauer had his six, Ethan slung his weapon and straddled the man’s waist, quickly securing the prisoner’s hands behind his back before tying his feet as well. “How many others,” he demanded.

Rather than answer the man twisted around and tried to spit in Ethan’s face. Ethan leaned to the side at the last second to avoid it and shoved the guy’s bound hands higher up between his shoulder blades. A raw cry of pain followed, then a string of Spanish curses.

Ethan maintained the pressure, inflicting enough pain without doing much damage to the prisoner’s shoulder joint. “How many,” he growled back in the same language. He could see Tuck and the others stacked up at the door leading down to the basement.