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So this was the guy. This was the man who’d terrorized the world with his drug trafficking for decades. He didn’t look like much now. Blood was oozing from his headshot wound, staining his tan-colored linen suit, along with sweat and jungle grime.
His eyes were still open.
Fingers knotted with arthritis, white hair combed over a bald spot, wrinkly face.
Crew waved to get my attention, and he gestured at one of the men on the concrete ground. The man was alive; I’d shot him in his lower back, so it was possible he didn’t feel anything. Was that Marco, then? Because… I grabbed a fistful of hair on the third linen suit, and I lifted his head off the ground. Yeah, that was the man we suspected was named Enzo. He might be alive too, actually. Eyes closed, blood welling up from his back, painting his suit dark red, but I detected some minor movement.
Crew rose to his feet, and I followed his gaze. The others had caught up. Greer, Cullen, Mercier, and Elliott.
I looked away from Elliott.
Mercier joined Crew in inspecting the bodies, and I still couldn’t hear a fucking thing over the ringing sound in my ears. Neither could Crew, judging by the way he cupped his ear and said “What?” again.
Mercier smiled slightly, pressed a kiss to Crew’s temple, then squatted down between Marco and Enzo.
Was it over? Had we done it? Could we get out of here?
I looked up and caught an exchange between Mercier and Elliott, with Greer throwing in a few words too. Fuck if I knew what was said, though. I pulled out my earpiece and rubbed my ear vigorously, not that it changed anything. I’d been through this before. It might be a couple hours before my hearing returned.
Cullen ushered Crew in the direction we’d arrived, and Greer gave my shoulder a brief squeeze and nodded the same way.
All right.
I followed and swallowed dryly, thirsty and beyond exhausted.
When I looked back toward Mercier, it was just in time to see him put two bullets in Marco’s and Enzo’s heads.
That had to be a mindfuck and a half for the agent. He’d been working this case for four years.
I blew out a breath and hoped we were fucking done here. Our ride out should be here soon anyway. Emerson had given us one hour. I checked my watch and—someone grabbed my arm, halting my step.
Fuck. Elliott.
He showed me the screen of his phone, where he’d typed something.
We have ten minutes to raid Marco’s office. The Finlays and Mercier will run over to Enzo’s villa. Then we’re out of here.
I nodded once.
Couldn’t hurt to see if there was any information we could use.
* * *
Elliott handed back my helmet when we returned to Marco’s villa. With our headlights leading the way, we found his office on the second floor, and we both aimed at the big desk by the window overlooking the grand estate in the distance.
We put on gloves to play it safe.
If I’d thought Vincente Blanco was extreme in how he displayed his wealth, Marco knocked that man out of the park. Stacks of money, primarily US dollars, and gold bars all over the place.
I lifted a brow when I noticed Elliott pocketing several ten-ounce gold bars.
He caught my expression and straightened to write something on his phone, and he showed it to me.
You think my upgraded security system at the ranch will be cheap after this?
My mouth twitched.
So this was what it was like living in the gray zone between good and evil.
