“Let’s do this,” he mouthed.
Hunt wiped his forehead with his arm. He never minded the heat, but tonight the humidity was killing him. His shirt was stuck to his back, and sweat trickled into his eyes. He looked ahead. Another fifty feet and they would reach the terrace. They wouldn’t be able to keep going in a straight line, though; there was a massive pool in their path, so they hooked to the right. As much as Hunt forced himself to focus, he couldn’t help thinking about Leila. The closer they got to the house, the more he felt she wasn’t there. The house was too dark, too quiet.
He couldn’t let his pessimism get the best of him.
One step at a time, Pierce, Hunt told himself. Take it one step at a time. It’s the only way to move forward. She’s counting on you.
“Stop!”
Hunt turned his head to his left. Tony had caught up to him.
“What is it?”
“There’s a pathway to our right. Looks like it tracks the side of the house.”
Hunt had missed it. That’s what happens when you aren’t attentive to your surroundings. You’re lucky someone wasn’t waiting for you with a rifle. You’d be dead. They were so close to the house that Hunt was confident there were no more motion detectors between him and where he wanted to go. He gave the detector to Tony and whispered, “Take this, and slowly make your way to the front door.”
“I’ll let you know when I’m there,” Tony told him.
Tony had already moved toward the path when Hunt reached out and grabbed his ankle. Tony glanced back.
“Make sure you know who you’re shooting at before pulling the trigger.”
“Let me worry about this,” Tony whispered back, kicking Hunt’s hand away with his opposite foot.
Once Tony was out of sight, Hunt continued inching his way toward the house while making sure to stay out of direct view from the patio door. If someone were to take a peek from one of the second floor windows, he’d be done for.
Tony’s voice came squawking in his earpiece. “I’m a few feet away from the front door. Are you ready?”
Tony had gone his separate way less than three minutes ago. Didn’t I tell him to go slow? He loathed working with civilians. They had no tactical awareness. Tony was tough and a bright guy. Hunt wasn’t surprised that the Garcia family had thrived under his leadership. But in their current situation, Tony was out of his depth. He should have listened to Hunt.
“Stand by,” Tony told him.
“I’m good to go when you’re both ready,” Anna informed them.
“Copy that, Anna,” Hunt replied. “Wait for my command.”
It took him another two minutes to reach his spot. Hidden behind the built-in kitchen, Hunt had a perfect view of the patio door fifteen feet away. He was about to use the bottom of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face but remembered it was full of sand. He used his hand instead and rubbed it dry against his jeans.
“Anna, this is Pierce.”
“Yes?”
“On my command, open the front gate, then wait twenty seconds and ring the doorbell.”
“What about the floodlight?”
“I’ll let you know when to turn it on.”
“Okay.”
Hunt took a moment to gather his thoughts and picture what was about to happen. They were as ready as they were going to be. Hunt had conducted raids similar to this one more times than he could count, and he usually had a pretty good idea of how things would go. Not this time. Having Leila in play changed things. There was no point denying it.
“Anna from Pierce, open the front gate.”
Three seconds later, Anna replied, “Front gate opening now.”
Hunt counted to ten and closed one of his eyes in anticipation of what was about to happen. There was a chance he’d need his night vision. He heard through the wall the ring and chimes of the front doorbell. When Hunt reached the count of sixty, he asked Anna to turn on the floodlight. A moment later, half the backyard was bathed in light as two powerful floodlights were turned on. Crouched in the shadows of the built-in kitchen, Hunt aimed his silenced Glock at the sliding door and waited.
“Stand by,” Emilio said, loud enough so the two shooters positioned at the back of the house heard him. “I’ll check who’s there.”
Emilio pulled out his phone and tapped on the application that allowed him to see who was at the door. It didn’t work.
Strange, but not unusual. The timing, though, couldn’t be worse. He carefully made his way to the office—which had a window with a direct view of the front of the house—and looked outside with his gun drawn and at his side. The front gate was open. Emilio relaxed. Hector had probably forgotten something and sent one of his men to retrieve it. That meant it was Hector’s man waiting for Emilio to open the door for him. He holstered his pistol and headed to the foyer. He was ten feet away from the door when one of his men shouted a warning.
“Two floodlights just switched on! North side of the lot!”