“Whatever you do, don’t let Mendez kill him.” Bryant sank into his chair. “I don’t care what it takes—you make sure Pratt stays alive.”
“Sir, that could mean blowing my cover.”
“I just said I don’t care what it takes!” he boomed, slapping a hand on the desktop. “Nobody touches Pratt, you hear me? Nobody kills Derek Pratt but me.”
• • •
Mendez was stalling.
And D didn’t fucking like it.
From the second that Mendez held out that kiwi plate, D had known something was amiss. Raoul Mendez didn’t make small talk or offer his guests fruit. He usually got right down to business.
D stared into the older man’s eyes, which were awash with bitterness. Mendez’s demand hung in the warm morning air, but D was in no hurry to address it. He was more interested in gauging his old enemy, figuring out if and how the man had changed.
Mendez had hardly aged a day in the nine years since they’d last seen each other. His bronzed skin was more leathery now, far too tanned and not at all healthy-looking, but there were no new wrinkles on his face. No hair loss. He was as fit and commanding as ever.
D’s gaze shifted to Sofia, who hadn’t said a word since they’d sat down. She was handling the encounter a lot better than he’d expected. Her gaze hard and focused, her body language deceptively relaxed.
The sight of her at this compound made him want to vomit. Damn her for involving herself in this. It was too dangerous for her to be here.
“Tell me,” Mendez repeated, his visibly clenched jaw telling D that the man was losing patience.
“Not until you tell me where my man is,” D answered, casually resting his hands on the glass tabletop. He might not be armed, but he didn’t feel threatened. He’d been trained in hand-to-hand combat; he could snap Mendez’s neck like a stick if it came down to it.
“Is that how you want to play it?” Mendez’s jaw relaxed. “All right, Jason. Let’s do it your way. I’ll answer your questions. Then you’ll answer mine.”
D shrugged. “Where’s my colleague?”
“In the dungeon.” Mendez reached for the water glass in front of him and took a delicate sip. “You remember the dungeon, don’t you?”
Oh, he remembered. Mendez’s son used to drag him down there so the sick bastard could toy with the girls. Gael hadn’t touched them, of course—the merchandise was off-limits—but he’d sure as hell enjoyed playing mind games with them, making them believe he would touch them.
As much as D hated the idea of Sullivan being in that stone prison, he was relieved to hear that Mendez hadn’t sent him to the workshop.
“Is he alive?”
“Yes.”
It was hard to tell whether Mendez was lying or not. D’s internal polygraph wasn’t picking up any dishonesty on the man’s part, but something about his expression was . . . off.
D set his jaw. “I want to see him.”
“Later.” Mendez waved a hand. “It’s my turn to ask questions. Why did you kill my son?”
D had been prepared for this, so the lie flowed smoothly from his mouth. “Because I was ordered to.”
The table fell silent. Mendez watched him carefully, as if he were employing his own internal lie detector. “Why?”
“Why what? Why was I ordered to kill him or why did I follow orders?”
“Both,” Mendez snapped.
“I had a job to do.” D crossed his arms over his chest. “What, you think I did it out of malice? Some personal vendetta against Gael—”
“Don’t you dare speak his name in front of me!”
D chuckled. “What would you like me to call him, then? Because this conversation revolves around him.”
Mendez’s breathing got heavier. He sucked in a breath, reached for his water again. After a hurried sip, he said, “Who wanted my son dead and why?”
“They killed him because of you. You know that.”
“You killed him!” Mendez growled. “You, not they! Take some responsibility for your actions, you fucking bastard.”
“I was an operative and I followed orders.” D arched a brow. “If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t enjoy it.”
Mendez’s face turned redder than a tomato. “My boy loved you. He respected you, looked up to you!”
“I had no ill feelings toward him, Raoul. He was a good kid.” The lie burned D’s throat on the way out. “That’s the reason I aborted my mission. Because of Gael.”
Suspicion colored the other man’s tone. “You just told me the mission was Gael.”
“No, I said the mission was you. You abducted a senator’s daughter. I spent six months trying to squeeze her location out of you, and when you continued to keep me in the dark, my superiors decided it was time to amp up the pressure. They ordered me to kill your son to show you we meant business. But . . .” He feigned a sigh. “I felt bad.”
“You felt bad? You goddamn son of a bitch!” The man shot forward as if to pounce on D, then sagged back in the chair a nanosecond later as he realized the grave mistake he’d been about to make. “You felt bad,” he echoed dully.
“Yes.”
D didn’t look at Sofia as he answered. He’d confessed at the safe house that killing Gael hadn’t been part of the mission. And he did not regret it. But he hoped like hell her expression didn’t reveal the truth.
“Like I said, he was a good kid. I didn’t enjoy pulling the trigger. I hope you believe that.” He offered another shrug. “Afterward, I checked in with my handler, and he had another order for me. He wanted Angelina dead too. And I couldn’t fucking stomach it. I couldn’t be some brainless hired gun anymore for people who would sell me out in a heartbeat if it came down to it. But these people . . . they’re smart. Ruthless. You don’t retire from the agency—you’re terminated. My only choice was to run.”
Mendez studied D’s face, his expression conveying nothing.
“For what it’s worth, I spared you and Angelina.”
A laugh of disbelief flew out of the man’s mouth. “How generous of you.”
“I could’ve killed you. We both know that. But I didn’t. I knew you would never stop hunting me, but I owed you a debt for killing your son. You kept your life. That was how I repaid you.”
Mendez’s jaw fell open. “You’ve got some balls, Jason. I’ll give you that.”
With a chuckle, D glanced at the silent woman beside him. “How you doing, Esmé? Bored yet?”
“Thoroughly,” Sofia replied, looking annoyed. “Can we please skip to the part where we verify that our colleague is alive?”
“Impatient, isn’t she?” Mendez reached for his water again. “This is why women should not be tasked with such delicate jobs. They don’t have the necessary attributes for it.”
Sofia gave him a sweet smile. “Yeah? Well, I have the necessary skills to kick your ass, old man.”
D hid a smile of his own. She was getting into character. Good. That was good. As long as she continued to convey no fear, he might be able to get them out of this alive.
“She’s got backbone,” Mendez remarked to D. “I do admire that. Now, where were we?”
“We were done,” he said pleasantly. “I told you why Gael had to die. There’s nothing left to say.”
“Oh, but there is.”
Goddamn it, why was Mendez stalling?
D suspected he already had the answer to that, but he refused to let the thought surface. If he did, that would mean admitting defeat. Admitting that he’d failed. Admitting that because of him, Sullivan Port was—
“Who were you working for?”
Mendez’s question served as a much-needed interruption from his bleak thoughts. D rested his hands on his thighs and said, “Smith Group.”
Mendez sneered. “Never heard of it.”
“Of course you haven’t. We’re ghosts, Raoul. Or rather, we were ghosts. The agency shut down after I left it.”
“US government?”
“Loos
ely affiliated with it. Very loosely.”
“Black ops,” Mendez mused.
“Obviously.” D rolled his eyes. “The man you want? The one who ordered me to kill your son? His name is Edward Bryant. He was the big gun at Smith Group, ran the whole show.”
“Selling out your former boss, Jason? You are feeling generous this morning.” Mendez chuckled softly.
“I have no loyalty to Bryant or Smith Group anymore. You wanted to know why your son died? Well, Bryant is the reason. Do what you will with that intel. I don’t give a shit.” D scraped back his chair, and Sofia quickly followed suit. “I want to see my man now.”
Mendez went quiet. He remained seated, but the air had changed, thickened with tension. Danger. “Is my daughter alive?” he finally asked.
“Of course she is. I’d never hurt Angie.” D cocked a brow. “Well, unless I had no choice.”
“I want proof of life.”
He laughed. “Funny. We’ve been asking for that very thing since we got here.” His humor faded. “Here’s the deal, Raoul. Esmé and I are the only two people on the planet who know where Angelina is. Make that three, actually, because if something happens to either one of us, our colleague has been given very clear instructions. If he doesn’t hear from us in twelve hours, he’ll put a bullet in Angelina’s head.”
“Proof of life,” Mendez repeated.
“You first. Take us to our man.”
After a beat, Mendez rose from his chair. He stood several inches shorter than D, not much taller than Sofia, in fact. But the man carried himself like he was the biggest, baddest dude on the planet. It made D want to laugh again.
Mendez brought his fingers to his lips and whistled sharply, and two armed men appeared without delay. “Get the car,” he barked at his thugs. “We’re going to the dungeon.”
Relief flooded D’s belly. He spared a glance at Sofia, who didn’t look at all relaxed. Hell, he wasn’t either. He might be relieved, but his instincts were on high alert, humming ominously.
Mendez gestured to the stairs and offered a broad smile. “Shall we?”
Chapter 16
The “dungeon” turned out to be a square building that was both above and underground, an imposing concrete structure that sent a cold shiver up Sofia’s spine. She didn’t like this. Any of it. Mendez gave her the willies. Her skin hadn’t stopped crawling since they’d joined him on the terrace, and now the sick feeling had gotten worse. Much, much worse.
She wanted to whisper in D’s ear and beg him to stop them from going inside the building. He was a soldier, damn it. He could grab a gun from one of the thugs and kill Mendez. Kill them all.
God, where was this bloodlust coming from? As a doctor, she wasn’t supposed to wish anyone dead, but right now, nothing would make her happier than to see every single man on this island meet his grisly demise.
But D didn’t make a move against the men. She knew he wouldn’t act until he saw Sullivan, and she didn’t even blame him for it. If he killed Mendez and it turned out Sullivan was being held somewhere other than this island, then the chances of finding Sully might possibly die with Mendez.
A bulky guard unclipped a heavy key ring from his belt and unlocked the steel door at the building’s entrance. Mendez entered first, then D and Sofia.
Blood.
After years of smelling blood in its various states, her nose immediately registered the scent. Fresh blood was more metallic, letting off a sweet, sometimes fruity scent as it began to dry. The older it got, the mustier it smelled, sour even. The odor in the dungeon fit the latter description; it had the faint but unmistakable stench of dried blood. She didn’t know whether she felt relieved or terrified.
Mendez led them down a narrow hallway with a gray stone floor and rusted metal doors on both sides. Sofia counted fourteen doors before they finally came to a stop at the last one in the corridor.
The guard didn’t reach for his key ring. He just turned the knob, and the door opened with a loud creak.
Sofia didn’t need to peer inside to know the cell was empty. The fact that it had been unlocked said it all.
“You son of a bitch,” D hissed, lunging forward.
Two assault rifles shot up before he could reach Mendez, who laughed in delight.
“Oh, Jason, did you really think he’d still be alive? After all these months?” The man laughed harder, nodding at one of the guards.
The bulky one grabbed Sofia’s arm, and she squeaked in indignation when he shoved her into the cell. The other guard did the same to D, whose eyes were flashing with disgust.
“Your daughter’s as good as dead,” he spat to Mendez. “I hope you realize that.”
“No, my daughter will be released as agreed,” the man corrected. “See, I now have two hostages to use as leverage. Lucky me.” He barked a command at the bulky guard. “Take his phone.”
Sofia watched in dismay as the guard stripped D of his phone. Why wasn’t D fighting back, damn it? He was standing there like a statue, letting Mendez toss them in a cell. Letting these men steal his only connection to Liam and Ash.
“I have some other business engagements to attend to,” Mendez said cheerfully, “so you and the lovely Esmé will have the afternoon to relax. Once I return, we’ll discuss the terms for my daughter’s release.” He offered Sofia a gracious smile. “I hope your colleague on the mainland is more fond of you than he is of Jason, because only one of you will be leaving this island, and I’m leaning toward you, querida.”
Bullshit. He wasn’t letting either of them go. Sofia knew that without a shred of doubt.
Oh God. They were going to die on this island.
“Have a seat. Relax. I’ll see you both soon.” Mendez smiled broadly as he stepped to the door. “By the way, your former colleague stayed in this cell for, oh, about three months. So I’m sure you’ll feel right at home here.”
The door creaked shut behind the men, and Sofia’s heart sank when she heard the lock snap into place. She stared at the door for a second, took a breath, then spun around.
“What the hell was that?” she shouted.
D didn’t even blink. “What the hell was what?”
“You’re supposed to be some kind of supersoldier! Why did you let them bring us here? Why did you let them put us in this cell? Why didn’t you fight them?”
“Because they would have killed us,” he said flatly. “And if I did eliminate Mendez and his men and we somehow made it back to the helicopter? Then the men at the airfield would have killed us. You saw the guard towers. This island is crawling with armed guards.” He made a scornful sound. “Not even a supersoldier like myself could take down an entire army.”
“You . . .” She took a breath. “But you didn’t even try.”
“I know when to pick my battles.”
“So what now? What the hell do we do now?” She paced around the cell in a panic. “How do we get out of this?”
D shrugged. “I’m thinking on it.”
Disbelief slammed into her. “You’re thinking on it? You’re thinking on it? I swear to God, Der—” She instantly halted, realizing she’d almost said his real name. Or one of his names. Whatever. Lowering her voice, she scanned the cinder-block walls and low ceiling in search of camera equipment. “Can they hear us?”
D shook his head.
“How can you be sure?”
“Because Mendez doesn’t believe in cameras.”
Doubt flickered through her. “He doesn’t believe in cameras,” she echoed.
D slid his powerful body down the wall and moved into a sitting position. “He’s old school. The island is rigged with motion sensors and explosives, but there isn’t a camera in sight. Didn’t you notice?”
Had she noticed? No. Because she wasn’t a goddamn soldier. She wasn’t on the lookout for things like cameras and motion detectors and security protocols.
“Security footage can be used against you,” D said, shrugging again. “The wrong person gets their h
ands on it, and suddenly all your crimes are right there in Technicolor for the world to see, evidence that can be used to take you down. He doesn’t leave a digital trail either. Doesn’t even own a computer.”
She reluctantly lowered herself next to D, keeping two feet of space between them. “How does he do business, then?”
“Good, old-fashioned pencil and paper.” D snorted. “Every transaction is recorded by hand in a ledger, and every deal is made in cash, which then goes to offshore bank accounts that can’t be traced back to him. Like I said, old school.”
Sofia’s gaze landed on a dark stain three feet from her hiking boots. Dried blood. Was it Sullivan’s? God, she hoped not.
D was looking at it, too, his profile going hard.
“Do you think Sullivan is really dead?” she whispered.
He didn’t answer.
“Derek.”
That harsh gaze focused on her. “I have no fucking idea, okay? I knew Mendez was hiding something when we sat down with him, so yeah, there’s a chance Sully is dead. But there’s also a chance he’s alive.”
Worry rolled up her spine. “What do we do now?”
“I told you, I’m thinking.” He went silent again, those dark eyes shifting to the wall ahead, fixing on the dusty, cracked stones.
He was thinking. Great. She wished he would tell her what he was thinking. It was impossible to read this man, and she hated that he never gave her a shred of insight, a tiny clue that might help her figure him out.
“Why did you kill Gael Mendez?”
She saw his jaw twitch, but his mouth remained shut in a tight line.
“I know you weren’t ordered to do it. You told me so yourself.” The need for insight grew stronger. “So why? Why did you kill that man, D?”
His silence seemed to last forever, but just when she thought he wouldn’t answer, his gruff voice echoed in the cell.
“He tried to rape a child.”
A shocked breath flew out of her mouth. “What?”
D shifted his broad body so he could look at her, and what she saw in his eyes floored her. Distress. Anger. Sorrow. For a man who didn’t usually reveal his emotions, he was broadcasting some pretty intense ones at the moment.