Exposed (27 page)

Heart hammering, she turned toward shore and began a clumsy front crawl, not bothering to even attempt the proper breathing technique she’d never mastered as a kid.

Her arms and legs moved all on their own, her body acting on pure survival instinct. She picked out the nearest spot to exit the water and headed for it, keeping her eyes glued there so she didn’t become disoriented.

Julia came up beside her. “Faster! Come on, you can do it. We can’t count on Miguel stopping Villa. We’ve gotta get out.”

Miguel was in the other boat? She didn’t have the breath to answer.

Heart slamming against her ribs like it was about to burst, Marisol put her head down and swam for all she was worth.

Chapter Nineteen

Ethan scanned the waterway ahead of him as he raced with his teammates to the Zodiacs waiting for them at the end of the dock. Marisol was out there somewhere, and she needed him.

He locked that thought away, needing to compartmentalize and focus on the op.
El Santo
and Villa were both waiting up ahead for them. To save her he needed to be a hundred percent locked in, have his game face on.

Their boots pounded over the wooden dock as they ran.

The Bureau’s Critical Incident Response Group had managed to get the inflatable boats here for them in time for their arrival a few minutes ago. New intel was coming in all the time from agents monitoring satellite footage of the waterway where the boat carrying Marisol was traveling. Eyewitness accounts said two other boats were chasing it, and shots had been fired.

Normally before an op they went over everything carefully before deploying, but this time they couldn’t afford to wait. They’d rushed straight here and were doing this on the fly—something that was possible only because of the countless hours they’d spent operating together as a unit. They’d done plenty of maritime ops together in the past and every one of them knew what to do.

Tuck doled out instructions via their comms as they neared the end of the dock. He was getting constant updates from DeLuca and the Special Agent In Charge from the Miami office, who were both in the mobile command unit a half-mile away. Their sniper teams were positioned further north, at the end of the canal, just in case the tangos somehow got past Ethan and the others. The DEA’s FAST team was securing the far southern end of the harbor.

El Santo
and Villa had nowhere to go. And cornered animals were always the most dangerous.

Ethan jumped into the first rubber-hulled vessel and gripped the rope lining the gunwale near the bow. Tuck, Vance and Bauer climbed in after him, the former SEAL taking the helm. Behind them, Blackwell, Schroder and Evers manned the second Zodiac.

At his place in the bow, Tuck suddenly lifted his head, a hand going to his earpiece. “Copy. Moving to intercept now.” He half-turned to address them, the guys in the second boat alerted via their comm units. “Witnesses say both females are currently in the water, making their way toward shore.”

Marisol and the unknown woman who’d taken the boat. Ethan’s gut tightened. From what he remembered, Marisol wasn’t a good swimmer and hated being in the water. Something about a near-drowning when she was a kid.

The urge to race to her clawed at him. It drove him insane to sit here when he knew she was in danger, but the team’s safety came first, and they still had two lethal enforcers to take down before they could help Marisol.

“Both of the remaining vessels are still in pursuit. Satellite images confirm Panther is in the second boat, and Jaguar in the other,” he said, using the codenames for Villa and
el Santo
. “Both tangos are wounded. Helo’s inbound to give us eyes on target, ETA four minutes. We gotta move fast on this. Let’s go.” He signaled to Bauer, who started the Zodiac’s engine with a throaty growl.

They shot away from the dock and swung to the south, moving to intercept their targets. Ethan and his boat would go after
el Santo
while Schroder and his crew would target Villa. The rival tangos would try to take each other out. Only once both tangos were down could he get to Marisol.

We’re coming, Soli. Hang on. Please hang on for me, baby.

He leaned lower against the gunwale, the salty air whipping across his face as Bauer sped them down the canal, Schroder’s crew right behind them. The wide waterway was the only way out to the open sea. By heading south they were effectively blocking Villa and
el Santo’s
escape route.

They were set on a collision course in a deadly game of chicken. The stakes were life and death and there would only be one winner.

****

Bautista swung his boat around and opened the throttle, racing toward Julia and Marisol, who were both in the water seventy yards ahead of him. And that bastard Villa was in between, headed straight for them, knowing he would follow. If he couldn’t stop the other enforcer in time, Villa would kill them both.

Not fucking happening. He wouldn’t let Julia die.

He squinted to protect his eyes from the wind as he raced at top speed. Villa was the main threat, but not the only one. The cops and FBI would be here soon, if they weren’t already. If they were smart, they’d try to barricade the end of the canal before he and Villa reached it.

Which meant Bautista had only a few minutes more at best to kill Villa, pull the women from the water and get to shore to make his getaway.

He set his jaw. His boat was fast, but not as fast as Villa’s. He had the throttle wide open and still wasn’t gaining on him. The bow skipped over the relatively smooth water, the shoreline whipping past in a blur. He kept his gaze pinned dead ahead, focused on stopping the assassin currently targeting his woman.

With his feet braced wide apart on the deck, he released the wheel, raised his rifle and took aim. Twenty-five yards ahead of him, Villa glanced back and swerved to the left.

Bautista didn’t release his weapon to correct his steering, just followed his target with the muzzle. Villa was crouched low, the engine cover at the stern of the boat giving him some cover. But he couldn’t hide entirely.

A cold, deadly rage filled him.
You’re mine
.

Bautista slowed his breathing, curled his finger around the trigger, and fired.

Villa jerked his arm in front of him and his boat careened to the right. But he didn’t stop.

Reaching down with one hand, Bautista corrected his steering then immediately gripped his rifle and took aim again. Villa’s shoulder appeared in his sights. He fired again, and this time he saw the spurt of blood as his bullet struck. Villa’s boat swung sharply away to the left, toward shore.

Bautista didn’t stop. Couldn’t. While likely not fatal, that wound would slow the other enforcer down and make it hard for him to get off a good shot. He shot past where Villa had turned to shore and kept his gaze pinned straight ahead, on the women in the water. Julia was right beside Marisol, who seemed to be struggling.

Then, a few hundred yards beyond them, two Zodiacs appeared around a bend in the canal.

Either the Feds or a local SWAT team. Even though his instincts were screaming at him to get out of there, he couldn’t leave Julia to die after how bravely she’d tried to protect him and Marisol. He couldn’t live with himself if he lost her.

Gritting his teeth, he sped toward the women, counting down the seconds as he closed the gap. When he was twenty yards away from them, a shot burrowed into the hull near the bow of his boat.

He jerked the wheel to the right, slammed the throttle back to drop his speed and wheeled about in the water, cutting in a tight arc around the women. With the motor on low he aimed straight for them, braving another shot from the Zodiacs.

Both women had their heads up now, watching him. He moved in close, dropped the engine into idle and thrust out a hand to Julia, who was now swimming toward him with sure strokes. He felt the seconds ticking past with every beat of his heart.
Come on, come on
…

His eyes locked on hers, those pale blue depths spearing him. “Take my hand,” he shouted, stretching his arm out as far as he could.

She swam three more strokes and swung her arm out of the water, clasping his hand tight. Her fingers were cold, her face pale as he dragged her up and into the boat. She leaned into him, soaked and bleeding from her arm. That bastard Villa would pay with his life for wounding her.

Hugging her into his side, he squeezed her tight as he steered toward Marisol. She was clearly in trouble. He couldn’t just let her drown, and Julia would be horrified if he did. Marisol’s eyes were wide, her expression panicked.

He bent low, his arm still around Julia. “Come on,” he called to her urgently, holding out his hand. He could hear the hum of the Zodiacs’ engines now, braced himself for the feel of a bullet at any moment. Even wearing Kevlar body armor wouldn’t protect him from a head or abdominal shot. And the men coming after him were deadly marksmen.

But he’d made it out of tighter jams than this before, and he was determined to get out of this one too. He had so much to live for now. Every second he waited cost him the chance to escape but Marisol was still too far from shore and he couldn’t just leave her. “Grab my hand,” he barked, knowing the urgency in his voice would counteract her shock.

She thrashed her way over the last few yards toward him, her movements sluggish and uncoordinated. Whether from the shock of being in the water or exhaustion, he didn’t know and didn’t care. He just wanted to grab her so he could get the hell out of here.

Finally he was close enough. He grabbed her by the forearm and bodily dragged her out of the water. While she collapsed at his feet he gripped the wheel and hit the throttle again, wheeling the boat back around to face the way he’d come.

“There are cops everywhere,” Julia gasped out, chest heaving from the exertion of her swim. She was bleeding pretty bad, cradling her left forearm to her chest. Pinkish-red rivulets ran down her arm and dripped on the deck.

“How bad were you hit?” he demanded. There were a million questions he wanted to ask her, like who she was and who had trained her. Because based on what he’d just seen, she was no simple civilian.

“Just a flesh wound. And the Feds—those are HRT guys back there,” she shouted over the noise of the engine as she looked behind them. She looked up at him, her face pinched with worry. “What are you going to do?”

“Take out Villa and get to shore.” He had no choice but to run the gauntlet of the other enforcer, waiting somewhere up ahead, and whatever law enforcement had arrived on scene. With grim determination he sped them southward.

Julia ducked beneath his arm and grabbed the wheel. Her wet hair whipped back from her face by the wind as she shouted at him. “I’ll drive, you shoot.”

“No,” he shouted back, pushing her downward to the deck. “Stay down. It’s not safe.”

She refused to budge. Her pale eyes drilled into his, and he could see the fear for his safety there. “I’m not who you think I am either,” she told him, “and I can handle myself. Now shoot our way out of here and let me drive.”

He held her stare for a moment, pride and surprise twining inside him. This woman was incredible. Once this was all over, he was going to learn every last one of her secrets.

With a nod, he relented. She couldn’t know how huge that was, for him to relinquish control to someone else in a situation like this. But in spite of all the secrets she’d kept from him, his gut still trusted her. “Keep low,” he warned, going to one knee on the deck and putting the stock of his rifle to his shoulder. “He’s wounded, but I don’t know how bad.”

“I see him. Two o’clock, forty yards out.”

Searching off the starboard bow he immediately spotted the pale blue speedboat heading their way. Apparently that bullet hadn’t taken Villa out of action after all.

“Head left,” he called out. He was aware of Marisol crouched behind him, frozen in place as she braced against one of the seats. Her head was turned to look behind them, at the HRT boats approaching. “Get down,” he growled at her, and she ducked her head.

Ethan Cruz might be on one of those boats, coming to rescue her. He pushed the thought from his mind. He had to think of himself now, and Julia.

Nothing mattered but taking out Villa so he could be free, and then do everything in his power to get away.

Julia turned the boat to the left, allowing him a better view of Villa. He caught a flash of movement near the helm, automatically aimed and fired.

Villa dropped, but Bautista jerked as a deep, burning pain hit him in the abdomen. Julia cried out and released the wheel, her eyes wide as she reached for him.

Biting back a growl of agony, he struggled to his knees. Bastard had hit him just below the lower edge of his Kevlar.

Julia was next to him, had her hand over his belly. He pushed her away, needing her out of the line of fire in case Villa took another shot. The pain made his vision hazy but he shook his head to clear away the fog and fought through the burn to take aim again.

Villa wasn’t moving.

He eased forward to get a better look as they closed in on his boat. Still no movement. Bautista’s heart raced. If Villa was dead then he could go to shore and try to disappear. It wasn’t too late. He still had a chance—

A round slammed into his back, punching through his ribs just below his armpit. He grunted and slumped forward, losing his grip on his weapon.

“Miguel!” Julia screamed it, the terror in her voice slicing through the haze of agony engulfing him.

He tried to roll over, reached a hand toward his fallen weapon. His lungs burned like they were filled with acid and he couldn’t get any air.

Safe. He needed to make sure she was safe.

Gathering his remaining strength, he pushed up onto all fours and curled his hand around his rifle.

****

When Julia dropped to help Miguel, Marisol jumped up and grabbed the wheel.

The reaction was automatic, her body moving all on its own to control the boat before it crashed. Her breathing was erratic, her entire body trembling with cold and shock as she wrapped her hands around the steering wheel.