“We’ll get you some help, Simon. We’re leaving.”
Carter nodded weakly, and, with that, his eyes rolled up in their sockets as he passed out.
Hunt helped Dante and Egan carry Carter into the back seat of the Range Rover. Apart from a few scratches and dents where Egan’s and Hunt’s bullets had ricocheted off, the SUV was fine and wouldn’t draw unwanted attention.
“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” Hunt started. “Abigail, you and Dante will take the Range Rover and drive straight to the airport with Leila and Simon.”
“Got it,” Abigail replied.
“I’ll call Anna to let her know you’re coming,” Hunt said. Then he turned to Egan. “You and I, Cole, we have unfinished business to attend to.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
San Miguel de Allende, Mexico
Egan didn’t remember the last time he was so nervous. Hunt’s plan was sound but extremely dangerous. It could work, but the chances were they’d both be dead within the next five minutes. Egan wasn’t afraid of dying, but he was frightened to leave Katherine behind and to never see the baby that was growing inside her. Still, like Hunt, he had to see this through.
“Here we go,” he said, loud enough for Hunt to hear him. “We’re there.”
Egan made a left into the Black Tosca’s driveway and stopped at the front gate. Two uniformed guards came out of the guardhouse. These two were poorly trained rent-a-cops. Egan wasn’t even sure they knew who they were working for. The Black Tosca had hired them simply to keep the appearance of normality. Her real security detail was inside the gates, albeit a bit smaller since they’d killed a bunch of them at óliver Sáez’s house. One of the security guards gestured for Egan to pop open the hood. He did. The other guard, equipped with a long-handled mirror, swept the underside of the SUV in search of explosives. Egan was then asked to open the trunk. That he couldn’t do, since it was where Hunt was hidden under a large tarp. The security guard approached. Egan pressed a button, and his window came down.
“I’m here to see the Black Tosca,” he said.
“Wrong address,” the guard said.
“Tell her Mr. Granger is here with a special package.”
Clearly, the name didn’t ring a bell with him. He was definitely not a cartel member. “I need to see the interior of the vehicle,” the guard said.
“No, you don’t,” Egan replied. “Your employer will feed you to the fish if you open this trunk.”
The guard looked confused but retreated inside the guardhouse. When he came back a minute later, his attitude had changed drastically. He was much more deferential toward Egan, and he apologized profusely.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Granger. Mr. Nicolás will be down shortly to escort you to the residence.”
Egan closed the window. “You got that, Pierce?”
“I did. I want a clean and quick in-and-out.”
“Any special rules of engagement you’d like to share before we start?”
“Yeah, don’t shoot Sophia. Everybody else is fair play.”
Show time.
Hunt stretched his legs, trying to work the cramps out of them. He adjusted the tarp Egan had thrown over him to prevent him from being seen through the side windows of the Honda CR-V. He kept his Glock 22—to which he had added an Osprey suppressor—close to his chest, with his right hand wrapped around its grip and his finger on the frame. Hunt wanted to be ready for any surprises. He didn’t know much about Nicolás, but Egan had told him the guy was a former Mexican navy commando, the Black Tosca’s bodyguard, and a certified psycho.
On the bright side, Leila was safe, and that thought brought a huge smile to his face. Carter’s predicament, though, wiped it off. Hunt felt enormous guilt for what had happened. But at the same time, he was furious at Carter for saving his life, as he might have destroyed his own in the process.
Abigail’s words rang in his head. He can’t feel his legs.
Hunt forced himself to get his mind back on the business at hand. He’d have plenty of time later to reflect—and torture himself—about what happened.
“Nicolás is coming,” Egan called through gritted teeth. “Get ready.”
Egan watched as Nicolás walked toward the SUV. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a slim waist, black hair, and brown skin. The guy was good-looking. Egan gave him that. What Egan didn’t like, though, was Nicolás’s walk. It was confident and assured. Not good.
As Nicolás came closer, Egan noticed a pistol tucked in the man’s waistband. Egan lowered his window, thinking Nicolás would want to talk to him, but the man climbed into the passenger’s seat and pointed his pistol at Egan.
“Put your hands on the steering wheel,” Nicolás instructed. “Palms out, fingers spread, and lay them down easy. No sudden movements.”
Egan did as he was told.
“Are you armed?”
Egan’s eyes moved to the glove box. “In there.”
Nicolás didn’t bother checking. “Anything on you?”
“Glock 22. Left shoulder holster.”
“That’s it?”