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Tyler
“All right everybody, listen up, listen up,” I said as I slid Marisa’s photograph onto the interactive projection screen. Ben, Liam, Mark, and Quinn were finally here.Finally. The word made me want to laugh maniacally. Jackson practically moved heaven and earth to get them here in record time.
But it felt like fucking days since Marisa had been taken.
“Take a close look at these pictures.” I choked up as Marisa’s dark eyes seemed to watch me. “She is priority number one.” I threw the next photograph up. “This is Guadalupe Garcia, the CI getting intel to bring down López’s entire operation.” Another picture. “Here is Alonso López. As much as I don’t believe these next words, we gotta take him alive.”
“Fucking piece of shit,” Davis muttered under his breath.
“These last two”—The images here were mug shots—“are Jorge Castro and Daniel Gil. They’re lieutenants for Los Tiburónes. The only ones from the club who survived when Marisa was taken and who she was last seen with.”
“What do you want us to do about them?”
“I don’t really care.” My words dripped sarcasm and were filled with venom.
Jackson cleared his throat. “Remember, you only fire if fired upon.” I could hear the exasperated irritation in his tone. I knew he meant well and was trying to avoid having to scold me for my cynicism. And I couldn’t deny he was right. We couldn’t leave a trace of our invasion behind. But I honestly didn’t care if every last one of those bastards was taken out. I could always figure out how to cover it up later if I needed to.
Davis nodded. “Best if we get them too,” he said. “Try and get them to flip. Each and every one of them has a rap sheet a mile long. Bad shit. Really bad. But all you really need to know is that they’re dangerous. If we can take ’em alive, do it.”
Jackson cleared his throat. “Remember, all of you”—his eyes were pointed and emphatic—“There are a lot of things that could go wrong. There are a lot of moving parts here. We’re all going in, and I don’t need to remind any of you about Murphy’s Law. If something happens . . . We don’t know what we’re gonna find down there. We don’t know if the building is rigged. Or if they have explosives laid out on the grounds or triggered to go off by a door opening. So, keep your eyes peeled and watch your six.”
“You have confirmation she’s there? For sure?” Quinn asked.
“Yeah. I have visual on the place right now. A car came several hours ago, two men carrying two unknowns. Hoods over their heads. Female forms. Wearing exactly what Marisa and Guadalupe were wearing at Oasis. Latest monitoring confirms they’re all still at the compound. There’s no doubt in my mind it’s them.”
I could only imagine what Marisa was going through right now. That is, if she was still alive.
“Let’s go over everyone’s assigned locations,” Jackson said.
Our team was built around the skills of each individual member. But no matter how good we all were, every mission came down to one thing—how well we worked together. Because in the end, it wasn’t one man acting as a hero. It was a team.
Listening to Jackson review the strategy to rescue Marisa was killing me. I was thankful he was doing it though. My anger and rage were all-consuming, and I didn’t have the energy to keep it in check right now. All I did while listening to him was pray that the plan went off without a hitch. I didn’t know how I’d survive if our rescue mission turned into a recovery.
Another ping on my computer caught my attention. I checked it and felt relief wash over me. At least Max Sewell was able to come through. “That was Max,” I told Jackson.
“Who’s that?” Mark asked.
“A former client who owed me a favor. He’s lending us his helicopters and whatever else we need. I don’t have time to wait for permission. We don’t have another option, and we need to leave ASAP.”
“Let’s get dialed in then,” Ben said.
Liam seemed excited as he rubbed his hands together. “It’ll be just like the old days. Kickin’ ass and takin’ names. I can’t wait to get these sons-of-bitches.”
I pulled up the next set of images we needed to study. “Let’s check out López’s playground,” I said, clicking through my files.
To succeed in the field, more than you need to know your target, you need to know your opponent. When you’re in a desperate situation, you’re tempted to act immediately. We all understood this but knew it was unwise to act without serious preparation. No matter how bad things were, the first step was always the same. We had to assess the risks to try and figure out how bad things could really get—do our damnedest to suss out potential threats or dangers.
None of us were psychic. We couldn’t predict anything. That was the downside of every mission. Shit could go wrong in the blink of an eye. So, we did our best to make sure all the ins and outs were painstakingly calculated and that points A to Z were well thought out.
“Here’s an overview of the compound”—the image popped up on the screen—“and the building schematics.” I referred to the taped-down specs on the table. “This is a 3D blueprint of Alonso López’sLos TiburónesSan Rafael compound.”
“How’d you get all that?” Davis asked, impressed.
“It’s what I do,” I told him. “But never repeat what you’ve seen here.” Getting my intel through back channels and the dark web was easy enough. For me, I knew where to go hunting for my info and what to look for. It didn’t hurt that I had my friend, Steve, helping me from his end as well.
“Ten-four,” he said.
“López’s private office, here”—I indicated a room—“is located in the east wing. The adjoining room, here, is where his safe is. While I track down Marisa, Muff and Davis will get to López and secure him. We’ll only get one shot. Once he’s secured, Ben and Quinn can get Guadalupe into the safe.”
