Mistake. He should have asked Hector what she did to people who pissed her off.
She bit down hard. She sank her teeth into the fleshy part of his hand, between the thumb and forefinger, with the clear objective of biting right through it. But before she could draw blood, Sáez punched her in the ribs, the blow sending her against the wall. Sáez wrapped his hands around her throat, choking her until she gagged. He pressed his body against hers and began to grind his midsection against her back. She felt his arousal. She wanted to vomit, but there was too much pressure on her throat. No air was coming through. She tried to fight back with every ounce of energy she had left, but he had her completely. She was at his mercy. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t scream, and couldn’t escape.
Her vision tunneled.
Then the front door burst open.
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
San Miguel de Allende, Mexico
The Land Cruiser screeched to a halt. Hunt was ready and out of the door even before the SUV came to a complete stop. He raced to the front door of the house, not bothering to slam his car door shut. He pressed his back against the wall as he waited for Egan and Carter to take their positions on either side of the front door. Hunt stretched his arm and checked if the door was locked. It was.
He heard a commotion from inside the house. Someone screamed.
Leila! His heart racing, he looked at Carter and mouthed, “Detcord.”
Carter let his MP5 fall to the end of its sling and grabbed his backpack. From it he pulled a coil of detonation cord. Even though it looked as harmless as a dock line, the tiny and flexible plastic tube Carter held in his hands was filled with PETN—pentaerythritol tetranitrate—a substance capable of exploding at a rate of approximately 6,500 meters per second. Carter cut off a ten-inch piece. He used duct tape to attach it to the handle and dead bolt. He then connected the blasting cap, the fuse, and the handheld detonator.
Carter signaled them to move back before he scurried away.
Hunt nodded.
The detcord blew with a cracking sound. Hunt was the first to move through the smoke. The front door was half off its hinges. Hunt kicked the door open and went in with Egan on his tail. Leila was twenty feet in front of him, pinned to the wall by a man Hunt quickly identified as óliver Sáez from the photo Abigail had sent him. Hunt felt a presence to his right but focused on his target, knowing Egan would take care of the other threat. Hunt fired twice, striking Sáez in the upper neck and jaw, his throat spewing a mist of air and blood into his daughter’s face. As Sáez fell, three men wearing dark suits appeared in Hunt’s field of vision. If they were here, they were complicit. Two of the three men reached inside their jackets. Hunt fired four rounds in quick succession, hitting each man twice in the chest. He swung the MP5 sights around on the last man standing. Behind him, Hunt heard Egan’s MP5 bark three times and the sounds of someone falling about and stumbling around furniture. The man in front of Hunt wore an expensive suit and looked like a rich Saudi prince. The man raised his hands in surrender. They hadn’t been inside the house for more than five seconds.
Then Leila screamed, “Shoot him! Shoot him!” And Hunt did.
Carter was about to go in when two Range Rovers turned into the driveway. Shit. He peeked inside the house and saw that Hunt had already secured his daughter and was on his way out. Egan was right behind him, covering his retreat.
“We have company,” Carter shouted.
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
San Miguel de Allende, Mexico
Valentina Mieles looked at Sophia Garcia as she tried to break free from Nicolás’s arms. She enjoyed watching Nicolás. It was arousing to watch him try to tie Sophia to the bed frame. She had set up a special room in her basement for tonight’s event.
He flashed her a smile, and she noticed his eyes—cold as a snake’s. She shivered. Sophia was twisting and screaming, unwilling to cooperate. She tried to hold her legs together, but Nicolás pried them apart. Sophia punched him on the chin. He slapped her hard across the face and used the opportunity to tie her legs to the bedposts.
“Careful, Nicolás,” the Black Tosca warned. “We don’t want to hurt her too much before the show, do we?”
Sophia must have regained her senses because she lunged at Nicolás from her seated position. The Black Tosca could only admire her tenacity. She was thrashing and struggling with all her might and giving Nicolás more trouble than he’d bargained for. Nicolás punched Sophia in the stomach, and even though she was fifteen feet away, the Black Tosca heard the air expel from her lungs. Nicolás grabbed her hands and tied them together before securing them to the bed frame.
“Well done, Nicolás. Come here,” she said to him.
His bottom lip was bleeding. The little bitch had punched him harder than she had thought. She grazed her tongue over the inside of his bottom lip. She sucked away the blood, relishing its rich, metallic taste.