Page 20 of Midnight Target


  Cate disagreed. She thought the story showed that Benicio had a compassionate heart while Adrián was as sick as the dog, but she knew that theory wouldn’t fly with Rivera. To him, Benicio’s kindness was a flaw.

  She sought a different reason, one that would fit better with the man’s worldview. “Maybe it shows that Benicio likes to find a way where everyone wins.”

  “That itself is a fallacy. There is only one winner. The rest are losers and cowards, and those people should be put down. Which one are you, Cate?”

  “I’m a winner,” she spat out. “And you, Rivera, will be the loser.”

  “We shall see.” He chuckled, then murmured, “Good night, little one. I’ll see you soon.”

  As the call disconnected, Cate anxiously turned to Holden, who was bent over his laptop. “Anything?” she demanded.

  He lifted his head and cursed. “Nothing. Didn’t have enough time.”

  From his perch near the door, Liam didn’t look at all surprised by the report. “Rivera’s too smart to allow his calls to be traced. If we’re going to find him, it’ll be through intel on the ground, not cell towers.”

  “Then get us some intel,” Cate said in a firm voice, locking her gaze with Liam’s. “Squeeze the Barrios people tomorrow until they give you something—” She halted, blushing self-consciously when she realized she’d just barked orders at him like she was the one in charge.

  But Liam simply flashed her a grin and raised his hand to his forehead in a salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Chapter 20

  The pulsing bass line pounding from inside the nightclub was so loud that Sullivan could feel it vibrating in the cracked sidewalk beneath his wing tips. He could swear the walls of the building were shaking. It was a bloody awful song too, some Spanish pop bullshit. He was a classic rock guy. Dance music just gave him a headache.

  Or maybe the throbbing in his temples right now had nothing to do with the shitty music and more to do with the insanity they were about to walk into. He hated going into an op blind. Fucking hated it.

  “There has to be another way,” he told Liam. Then he made the mistake of glancing over, and, just like every other time he’d glanced at Liam in the past hour, his body tightened in a very unwelcome way.

  Liam Macgregor was attractive on a good day, but when he was decked out in a suit? When his hair was slicked away from his face, emphasizing his strong forehead? Jesus. Talk about sex personified.

  Sullivan, on the other hand, hated wearing suits. His shoulders were too broad, his chest too muscular. Every time he had to wear one of these bloody things he felt like an overstuffed sausage.

  “It’ll be fine,” Liam assured him. “I practically lived here when I was undercover.”

  “I didn’t realize you were assigned to Guatana.”

  “Not exclusively. South America was my territory, but I spent most of my time in the north. Venezuela, Colombia, Ecuador. I always hated this country the most. It was a shithole back then and it’s a shithole now.”

  “You sure the Barrios people will deal with you?”

  “I don’t see why not. I made them a lot of money when I was undercover.” He offered a wry grin. “I also cost them a lot of money, but they don’t know that.”

  Despite the spark of curiosity that Liam’s remark triggered, Sullivan didn’t press for details. He’d never asked questions about the man’s work with the DEA, but he was aware that Liam had left the agency because he’d felt like he was losing himself, getting too deep with the criminals he was supposed to be friends with.

  That was all sorts of messed up, because Liam Macgregor had good guy written all over him. Sully couldn’t imagine his buddy ever consorting with scumbags, and so convincingly that they’d considered him one of them. But he supposed they all had their secret talents. God knew he’d been pretty bloody good at dealing drugs.

  “What exactly was your cover?” he asked, giving in to the curiosity.

  “I dabbled in sex.”

  Sully’s eyebrows flew up. “You whored yourself out?”

  “No.” Liam sighed. “I had girls who did that for me.”

  “Jesus. You were a bloody pimp?”

  “Yep.”

  His jaw fell open. He couldn’t fucking believe what he was hearing.

  There was an awkward silence before his friend finally spoke again.

  “I didn’t mistreat the girls who worked for me. They were all over eighteen. They were all clean and sober—I made sure of that.” Liam’s voice softened. “I helped a lot of them off the streets, actually. That wasn’t part of the job, but I couldn’t just let them go out there and do what they were doing . . .” He trailed off. “I mean . . . fuck. On one hand, I believe it’s a woman’s right to choose what to do with her body. If prostitution is what she wants, then fine. But a lot of these girls, they sold their bodies because they didn’t think they had any other options. So, if I could, I’d give them another option.”

  “How?” Sully’s voice sounded hoarse to his own ears.

  Liam shrugged. “Helped them continue their education. Found them other jobs whenever I could. And the ones that worked for me, I made sure nobody hurt them. I gave them protection, a place to stay if they needed it.” He sounded sad. “I guess I was a very good pimp.”

  The shame in his friend’s blue eyes tugged at Sullivan’s heart. “Hey. We’ve all had to do things we’re not proud of. I told you about my time on the streets.”

  “Yeah, but that was different. You were an addict. You didn’t choose to be an addict.”

  “No, but I chose to deal drugs. I chose to feed other people’s addictions. And I chose to sample my own merchandise. I made those decisions, mate. At least with you, you were following orders.”

  “Like that matters,” Liam scoffed.

  “It does in a way. A government agency was telling you it was okay. And you said so yourself—you helped a lot of the girls. Plus, you took out a lot of scumbags in the process. You did good, Boston.”

  “Not good enough.”

  Before he could stop himself, Sully reached out and touched Liam’s arm. It was meant to be a soothing gesture, but the moment his palm made contact, curling over that band of muscle, his pulse sped up and his mouth ran dry. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d touched his friend. They hadn’t even shaken hands earlier this week when they’d seen each other for the first time in two years.

  Time seemed to freeze as Liam’s gaze slowly lowered to Sully’s hand. He stared at it for a long, silent beat. Then he cleared his throat and eased away from Sully’s touch.

  “Anyway, I hooked up with the Barrios cartel under the guise that I wanted to get into the drug game. Offered up my girls as drug mules, and we came up with an arrangement that suited both of us—”

  They were interrupted by D’s voice on the comm line. “We doing this shit or what?”

  Sully’s brain quickly snapped back to business mode. Their teammates were stationed on the perimeter, waiting for them to make contact with their target. Luke, Ethan, and Juliet were already inside, keeping an eye on the crowd. Only thing left to do was go in and take this meeting.

  “You ready?” Sully asked.

  Liam nodded in resignation. They’d only taken one step when he halted. “Sully,” he started.

  “Yeah?”

  “Anything I say in there . . . or do in there . . . it’s part of the cover, okay? It’s just . . . I need you to know it’s not me.”

  Ignoring the jolt of alarm that shot through him, Sully nodded in return and followed his friend to the entrance. He would be playing the part of Liam’s new associate, which he knew his teammate wasn’t thrilled about. Liam had wanted to do this alone but Sully had put his foot down and Kane and Noelle had agreed.

  Liam had been out of the game for years—who knew how these fuckers would react to s
eeing “Mac Mulligan” again. He needed backup, whether he wanted it or not.

  There was no line out front. After they’d paid the cover charge, the bouncer waved them through without a second’s glance. The moment they stepped into the club, they were greeted by a blast of music that nearly shattered Sully’s eardrums. Jeez. The tunes were even worse in here. Another pop song, this one featuring a female vocalist who was way too shrill for his liking.

  The crowd seemed to love it, though. The dance floor was jam-packed with an array of couples grinding up against each other. The women wore skimpy clothing, many of the men didn’t have their shirts on, and everyone was so caught up in their vertical fuckfests that it made it easy for Sully and Liam to move unnoticed through the throng of dancers.

  Sully gave the room a quick once-over. At the bar in the far corner, a stunning brunette, tall and statuesque, was surrounded by a mob of salivating men. He hid a smile. Juliet Mason-Hayes couldn’t go anywhere without making dudes drool. He wondered if Ethan was lurking in the shadows, fuming at all the attention his smoking-hot wife was getting.

  He didn’t see Ethan, but he did spot Luke leaning against the wall. The man’s dark eyes were ostensibly undressing the group of scantily clad women to his left, but Sully didn’t miss the shrewd glint in that sensual gaze. Luke was aware of everything and everyone in the room. A few sexy broads weren’t about to distract the former SEAL.

  “Where to?” The music was too loud, so Sully was forced to bring his mouth close to Liam’s ear. He could swear the other man flinched.

  “Follow me.” As Liam tilted his head to whisper back, his clean-shaven cheek brushed Sully’s chin.

  A shiver ran up his spine. Fuck. This was so not thetime.

  They threaded their way through the crowd, moving across the stuffy club that reeked of sweat, perfume, and stale beer. The main room branched off into a secondary bar area, where the music was just as deafening. No dancing, though, just tall tables scattered throughout the room.

  As they walked past the bar, a familiar face caught Sullivan’s eye. Ah, so this was Ethan’s post. Neither he nor Liam so much as glanced at their colleague as they marched past him toward the saloon-style doors at the opposite end of the room.

  With utter nonchalance, Ethan pushed away from the counter and shifted to the end of it, providing himself with a better vantage point of his teammates.

  Sully raked a hand through his hair and tapped his ear to activate his mic. “About to make contact,” he murmured without moving his lips.

  “Copy,” came Kane’s voice. “Snipers are in position outside. Rookie, Trev, and I are on the street if you need backup.”

  He let his fingers drop and shoved both hands in his pockets, the epitome of casual as he and Liam approached the black-clad man barring the doors.

  Liam raised his voice over the music. “I’m here to see Niko.”

  The guard’s menacing expression didn’t waver. “Name,” he barked.

  “Mac Mulligan.” Liam’s Boston accent became more pronounced as he spoke. “He’s expecting me.”

  The guard clicked his black earpiece and relayed Liam’s name. A second later, he moved to the side and gestured to the doors.

  Liam took the lead and neither of them said a word as they marched down a corridor with fluorescent lighting. The bulbs flickered in and out, casting ghostly shadows on the shoddily painted walls. Man, this place was a shithole. Sully couldn’t believe the Barrios cartel conducted most of its business in nightclubs like this one, but he supposed it made sense. Illegal operations required a front, and the club served as a legitimate business to conceal the not so legitimate activities of the scumbags who ran it.

  At the end of the hall, another armed thug appeared. “Weapons,” he said in a monotone.

  Liam made an annoyed noise but didn’t object. He simply reached inside his black suit jacket and slid his Beretta out of its holster. He handed it to the guard, then glanced at Sullivan, who pretended to balk. He’d known this was coming but he still had a part to play.

  “I’m not giving up my gun,” he protested.

  Liam cast him an impatient look that bordered on disgust and was just caustic enough to startle Sullivan. He’d been warned that his friend would become a different person, but he’d never seen this kind of contempt in Liam’s gaze, especially not directed at him.

  “It’s routine,” Liam growled. “Give him your weapon. Now.”

  With feigned bluster, Sully disarmed and handed his gun over. Then, with a sullen look, he stood there like an obedient toddler while the guard patted him and Liam down. After the thug was satisfied that they weren’t carrying any other weapons, he gestured for them to follow him.

  “Niko will see you now.”

  Thirty seconds later, they were entering a dingy room that stank of sweat and urine. Three men sat at a round table in the center of the room, a deck of cards and a pile of poker chips littering the tabletop. Against the far wall, a half-naked woman was sprawled on a ratty couch. From the hazy look in her eyes it was obvious she was high on something.

  And as fucked up as it was, Sully experienced a pang of . . . Jesus, envy. He hated himself for it, but that blissed-out look in the young woman’s eyes called out to him like a siren’s song.

  He tore his gaze away from her and studied the rest of the room. There was one door, which led out to the alley behind the club. Liam had done business here before and knew the layout, so they’d come prepared—D was already out there, monitoring the alley. Two guards manned that door; two more were posted at the one they’d just entered from.

  At their appearance, one of the men at the table rose to his feet. He had golden brown skin marred with pockmarks, a fat cigar sticking out the corner of his mouth, a gun in his hand, and a knife at his belt.

  “Mac Mulligan,” he drawled in accented English. “Welcome back.”

  “Niko Vega,” Liam drawled back. “Long time.”

  As Liam held out his hand, a knot of tension formed between Sully’s shoulder blades. He carefully watched Vega’s expression, waiting to see what kind of welcome mat he’d be rolling out. According to the dossier Noelle’s sources had compiled, Vega wasn’t the head honcho of the Barrios cartel, but damn close to it. He was Isaac Barrios’s second-in-command, running drugs through this club and the various whorehouses and bars the cartel owned throughout Guatana.

  Noelle had also warned them that Vega had a sadistic streak, particularly when it came to women. Apparently he liked a little knife play with his sex, and rumor had it he’d accidentally killed several hookers during his violent fucking sessions because he hadn’t realized how much blood they’d lost. Liam hadn’t even blinked when Noelle had revealed that grisly tidbit, which told Sully that his friend had already known all about Vega’s extracurricular activities.

  After an interminable delay, Vega finally stepped forward and gave Liam’s hand a hearty shake.

  “Motherfucker!” he crowed. “You went and retired on me! Broke my heart.” He paused, raising one bushy eyebrow. “And now you’ve come crawling back because . . . what is it you need, Mac? What brought you out of retirement?”

  Liam grinned. “Retirement brought me out of retirement.”

  Again, that Boston inflection seemed thicker than usual. Sully suspected Liam was putting it on, that it was part of his role as Mac Mulligan, the American pimp who’d dreamed of dabbling in the drug world.

  “Wicked boring,” Liam went on. “I went back to the States, lived like a king for a few years, even got married.”

  Vega gave a robust laugh. “You? Married?”

  “Divorced now. I was fuckin’ bored, Niko. You know me—I’m not cut out for a life of leisure.”

  “Is that why you’re here? You want back in the game?”

  “Among other things.”

  “I’m intrigued.” Vega narrowed his d
ark eyes at Sullivan. “Who’s this?”

  “I told Bobby all about him over the phone.” Liam nodded at a silent man at the table. From the dossier, Sully recognized him as Roberto Silva, a Barrios enforcer. “This is Jake Sullivan, my new partner.”

  “Partner, huh? And what sort of business are you two boys running?”

  Liam smirked. “What else? Sex.” He gestured to one of the empty chairs. “May I sit?”

  “By all means. Sit. Take a load off.”

  As Liam pulled out a chair, his gaze raked over the dark-haired girl on the couch. “Who’s the bitch?”

  “Pia.” Vega’s lips curved in a filthy smile. “Hot little thing, isn’t she?”

  “Very. Is she business or pleasure?”

  “Both. She’s Carlos Mendoza’s little sister.”

  Sully had no idea who they were talking about, but Liam seemed to know. “No shit,” he said in surprise. “Guess I’ve missed a lot since I’ve been gone. You’re chummy with the Mendozas now?”

  Vega threw his head back and released a roar of laughter. “Hardly. That motherfucker broke the rules and tried to steal a chunk of my territory. So I stole his sister.” His expression was downright gleeful. “I fuck her every night and get Bobby here to film it. I send the tapes to Carlos and he can’t do shit about it. Dios, Mulligan, she’s got the tightest pussy I’ve ever fucked.”

  “Yeah?” Liam got a lewd look on his face.

  Sullivan pretended to be unfazed, but inside he was more than a little ruffled. Liam was acting like a slime bag and he didn’t fucking like it.

  Vega laughed again. “I knew you’d like that. You always liked sticking your dick in a tight hole.”

  What? Jesus. What the hell had Boston done when he was undercover?

  Vega snapped his fingers. “Pia, come here and give our guest a kiss hello.”

  Despite her cloudy expression, the girl on the couch still had enough of her mental faculties to heed Vega’s orders, but her limbs lacked coordination as she stumbled off the cushions and made her way toward Liam. Once she reached him, she stood frozen in place, uncertainty on her face.