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“For fuck’s sake, Shay,” Reese snapped. “Where are you?Respond.”
I nodded for Shay, who seemed eager to go my route, and we stayed low as we stealthily headed down.
I unstrapped my combat knife at my calf, and I signaled to Shay that we had to do this silently.
We could not, under any circumstances, raise suspicion at Carillo’s house.
“We’re about twenty yards away,” I whispered. “We can take him down soundlessly. Get ready to advance—don’t change your plans. It’s all good.”
It was just one guy—
“It’s just one guy.” Shay spoke quietly. “Gray and I will deal with him and then resume our positions. Go forward.Trust us.”
My pulse skyrocketed, and adrenaline started coursing through me.
“You restrain him—I’ll disarm and silence him,” I ordered.
Shay nodded once, and there was nothing else to say. This was happeningnow.
“Jesus Christ,” Reese whispered. “Be fucking careful—if either of you gets hurt, I’ll fucking—”
“Quiet,” Crew hissed.
We got a clearer view as he approached our vehicles, but I wasn’t sure he’d spotted them yet. He kept his flashlight aimed at the ground where he walked. Dumb fucker. He was smoking a cigarette and humming a tune, so he couldn’t be alert and expecting danger. Then he dropped something—a radio. He’d dropped a radio. He shone his flashlight on it and bent down to grab it.
Shay and I reached the bottom of the slope and picked up the pace, some ten yards behind him now, and then we were sprinting.
The second our boots crunched on gravel, the man spun around, and that was when we pounced. I slapped the radio out of his hands, Shay got behind him and grabbed him in a tight headlock, I pressed a hand against the old man’s mouth—but not before I heard him let out a shout in Spanish.
“Hold him steady.” I used my free hand to unholster the man’s handgun and throw it aside, before I grabbed on to his shoulder and slammed my forehead up his nose. He cried out, but I managed to muffle the sound, and then Shay lowered him to the ground. We rolled him over and—
“Report back,” Darius ordered impatiently.
“Proceed with the plan,” I replied, out of breath. “Target incapacitated.Go. He had a radio—I don’t know if he’s supposed to check in.”
“Go, go, go!” I heard someone say. Could be Elliott.
I straddled the man once he was facedown, and I pulled out a pair of zip ties to restrain his wrists. In the meantime, Shay pressed the man’s face against the grass—
“Mesa will slit your throats,” the man grunted against the ground.
Mesa? Carillo Mesa. Well, then. No need to ask if he was affiliated or just a Spanish farmer out on a moonlit walk.
Not interested in hearing another word from him yet, I pulled out a roll of self-adherent bandage that I rolled around his head and over his mouth, so he couldn’t be heard from farther away. Blood was pouring out from his nose.
“Let’s tie him to one of the wheels on the nearest car,” I said.
That was one down, at least.
I blew out a breath, my heart racing.
CHAPTER 7
Joel Hayward
“Daddy?”
“Yeah, baby?”
