Armed And Dangerous (The McKinnon Legends - The McKinnon American Men Book 2) (26 page)

“Son-of-a-bitch.” Mason looked back at Juan. “With the help of your traitorous men, Carlos has Barbara. Pray to Jesus nothing happens to her because of them.”

Juan let the thinly veiled threat pass.

Barbara couldn’t breathe. The cloth over her face was dense and smelled of lighter fluid or kerosene giving her a horrific headache. She did not know how much time had passed. She was hungry and needed to take a bathroom break, so there had to have been four or five hours minimum tick off the clock.

The wait was horrible.

She wondered when Carlos would finally kill her. He had already beaten her senseless. Not to mention he had used the deep wound on her arm as leverage, twisting the staples at every turn and opportunity. Several, he had already ripped out just because he enjoyed seeing her in pain.

She had been sitting upright in the straight-backed chair with her hands tied behind her and her ankles tied to the chair legs. She could not feel her toes. Not that it mattered. It was the least of her worries.

She had been at the airport and ready to board her flight to Los Angeles when five men dressed as National Policemen pulled her out of line and dragged her into a waiting car. She kicked and screamed the whole way, pleading for someone to call Juan or Mason. Maybe someone would find that unusual and get involved. If not, then she was probably a dead woman. Unless, of course, he was trying to get to Mason through her, an action that she would never let happen.

“Take the hood off. We need to see what she knows.” She heard someone order. It was not Carlos, but instead it was a woman.

She cringed as the light hit her eyes. Someone grabbed her by the hair and jerked her head backwards so that they could all see her face. Then Carlos roughly jerked the gag from her mouth. It was a relief.

“What do you want, Carlos?” Barbara needed to make sure he did not see her fear.

She quickly scanned the room continuing to slowly loosen the rope. Her hands were almost free. Her feet were another matter entirely.

The woman, she recognized as the bartender from the resort. The man standing next to her was the gentleman in the red polo shirt that Barbara had spotted in the weight room with Carmen on the night of the reception. That made Carmen a double-agent, playing the ends against the middle. Barbara wondered if Juan knew.

The gun was within reach resting on the corner of the make-shift desk comprised of two saw horses and a piece of ply board. She just could not see if it was loaded. Her bet was it was. Carlos was a gun runner, drug dealer, and murderer. Her best guess was a water pistol would not exactly be his weapon of choice.

However, even if she did get her hands free, her feet were still bound. She would only get a single chance, and if she did not make it count, she was a dead woman.

“What do I want?” he laughed. “You dare ask me what I want? You dumb bitch!” He struck her again. “I want to fuck you and then kill you and leave your parts for that boyfriend of yours. I’ve already killed his wife and left photos for him.” He got right in her face. She turned her head to avoid his rancid breath. It was making her gag.

Carlos roughly grabbed her chin and turned her back to face him. “He also has those lovely photos we took of you earlier and the news that I also have you.”

“He could care less about me.”

“Oh, tisk tisk. I think not. Are you prepared to die Agent Bride? Oh, yes. I know you are C.I.A. I also know you are Mason’s whore.” Carlos grinned proud of his handiwork.

This woman should draw Mason out and into the open, Carlos thought. He had been doing some digging into Mason McKinnon’s background. The man was a notorious womanizer, and this woman was his latest piece of candy in a long line of many.

Barbara was wondering exactly what Carlos meant by his having already killed Mason’s wife. Then she remembered seeing a suspicious man follow Mason and Miss Dessert into the hotel. Could this lunatic have killed an innocent woman caught up in the cross fire? What if they tried to arrest Mason for the murder? There were witnesses to Mason and the woman being together. Witnesses or not, the National Police were not exactly Boy Scouts as she could attest. Juan was probably the exception. However, he was just one man in a sea of corruption.

Mason? Mason? Can you feel me? She forced the thoughts to fly out of her mind. She pushed them out and away searching for him. She had no idea if it would work. She hoped. It was all she had as she looked around her surroundings.

Mason instantly felt her and relief flooded him. She was not dead, yet. His bond to her was too strong not to feel her fear.

“Where are you?” He pushed back and instantly began to see images of a warehouse by the cruise docks. He received an image of a name and some numbers, and then it was gone. “I’m on my way. Just hang on,” he spoke softly hoping she would feel him too.

Something must have happened to her because the images he got from that point forward were dark and foggy. He could feel her fear even through the darkness of her mind, and then he felt nothing.

Carlos was a dead man. Mason closed his eyes to get a mental picture of the place Barbara was being held against her will. Juan felt the air leave the room, and for a moment needed to loosen his tie to breath.

“Juan, does Century Smith mean anything to you?” Mason released the room and Juan breathed a sigh of relief not fully understanding what had just happened.

Hold on, Baby Doll, Mason kept saying over and over. She might not be bonded to him, but hopefully she could still feel him there with her in the deep recesses of her unconscious mind.

“Yes. It was a canning company Emilio owned down by the docks. They went bankrupt a couple of years back because of a lawsuit. The warehouse and cannery are closed. Why?”

“That is where she is being held.” He saw the questioning look on Juan’s face. “Don’t ask. Come on. We have some mopping up to do still.”

Juan pulled his arm, stopping him short. “Wait.” He waved over two of his deputies as witness. “I, hereby, deputize you as an officer in the National Police force. Now, you can carry that gun of yours legally,” Juan said and then patted the almost imperceptible bulge at the base of Mason’s spine.

They were on their way to the warehouse.

Mason was expecting additional contact at any minute. There was no way Carlos was going to let any more time lapse without taunting Mason further. His hotel room number was forwarded to his cell in an attempt to fool Carlos as to his whereabouts.

He looked at his watch.

It had been four hours since he last saw her. The longer this went on, the more her chances to survive dwindled. Logically, he understood that. Emotionally, he was not going to accept it. They had been lucky with Jesse. This would not be the case with Barbara if he was not lightning fast in reacquiring her. He wished he had his trusted team to go into this fight. Juan’s men were good men, but this was way out of their league of expertise.

He had already received a call at the hotel, and a second packet containing photos of Barbara bound to a chair and gagged with a filthy rag stuffed into her mouth. She had been beaten, and her face and hair were covered in blood. The instructions were for him to await further orders and any attempts to find her would result in her pretty throat being cut.

Screw that, Mason thought. Carlos was not dealing with just any ordinary man. He had pulled from all his experience, slipping with frightening ease past the men Carlos had cleverly posted to watch his movement. They had just not been clever enough. He wanted to kill them, but he understood that action would only serve to alert his real target that he was on the move.

Mason thought about the photos, which was an act designed to demoralize him and to make him submissive to Carlos' will. The foolish man, Mason thought as they made their way through the streets of the city. Carlos thought that he could rattle him and thereby control all the cards by controlling Barbara’s fate.

It was not working.

Hate and rage boiled hot inside of him when he first saw the photos. He quickly got his feelings under control. To lose control and run on emotion was the very thing Carlos was banking on him doing. Del Torres figured it would cause him to make a mistake and cloud his judgment. It was a miscalculation on Del Torres’ part. He was not going to play into Carlos’ hands.

As they rode through the streets of Panama City, Mason pulled the photos out again, trying not to focus solely on Barbara. He needed to see the background and any clue as to where she might be held inside the warehouse. They were very helpful. There was a broken window behind her. He saw a cruise ship parked close to the warehouse and judging from the height she was on the third floor. This also told him that she was located at the far end of the building on the dockside. Just visible and past the steel columns were shoots designed to load the processed fish into containers on the now abandoned docks. There were at least three men guarding her judging from the shadows he saw. Their shadows were cast from the waning evening light that came in through the west windows, letting him know that they were all armed with automatic weapons.

There was very little else to go on so, so he turned his attention back to Barbara. The look on her face was telling. She was angry and he could see her straining against her bindings. She was not going quietly into the night. Some might, but not Barbara.

“That’s it, Baby Doll. You just keep that fight going strong in you. Don’t give up. I’ll get you out of there, I promise.” He vowed, running his finger tips across her bloody features in the photo. He promised to always have her back. He would die before he let her suffer even a moment longer than necessary.

Carlos had dared to touch a woman so cruelly. First, he killed Holly, and now he had Barbara. It was the ultimate sin in Mason’s book. A woman was to be treated fairly and with respect. If that were not enough, Carlos had dared to touch not just any woman, but his newest best friend and partner. That deed would cost Carlos his very soul because Mason was sending the bastard straight to hell if he so much as looked sideways at her.

He hoped his trying to do this by the book would be enough for Juan to cut him some slack. However, he made no promises that he would follow through with his desires to do this completely legally. Juan understood and agreed that unless it was blatant, cold-blooded murder, he would take the circumstances under advisement.

Juan saw all the warning signs. Not that he would blame Mason. Still, he had to give him fair warning.

“If you shoot him in the back then I’ll have a hard time convincing anyone, including myself, you should not be arrested for murder. The Law of the Jungle does not hold sway in my town, Mason. However, anything short of you shooting a man in undeniable retreat might be easily explained and construed as self defense or defense of another.”

“I appreciate the latitude. I won’t kill the bastard in cold-blood, no matter how tempting it is at the moment.”

Mason’s fingers itched to drive a knife fully to the hilt through Del Torres’s heart. However, he doubted the man even had a heart to pierce. That act of primal violence would make Mason feel good at the moment. Nevertheless, no matter how good it might feel, the action would make him as much of a monster as the very thing he was stalking. Barbara would understand. She had been in the business long enough to realize this happens and it probably had happened to her. However, she might never accept that he had no other alternative to his actions.

Not killing Carlos in cold-blood was a promise Mason could keep as long as Del Torres or his men were not perceived as a threat. “And what is the probability of that, do you suppose?” he asked as they continued to ride to the docks.

“Very slim,” Juan replied while glancing in his rearview mirror to ensure his men were still with them. “But mark my words, Mason, perception and reality must be congruent. You cannot kill him just because you think he is a threat. You must be certain before you kill him or anyone else.”

The lecture seemed unnecessary to Mason. He guessed Juan had to cover his bases where he was concerned. In reality, he was an unknown factor to Juan. Not to mention they had, just the night before, blown up and destroyed the compound of one of the most feared drug lords and seemly untouchable criminals in Central America. Juan had no idea just what he was capable of doing. It was probably a good thing, too.

“And I’m not sure I would be able to prove beyond doubt he is a threat. You know as well as I do that we go on gut when the shit is hitting the fan like it is about to do. How high will the body count need to be before it is considered anything other than cold-blood? At what point will you consider it a credible threat, Juan?”

“That is a sarcastic question and one I will not answer.”

“I’ll do what I must do to save her, Juan. And then I guess you will do what you have to do. However, I won’t promise that I won’t kill him.”

Juan was not about to ask him to promise such a thing, either. It was a promise that no man would be able to keep, especially a man like Mason McKinnon, a man with so much to lose.

“Just don’t put a bullet in his back unless he has his sites on someone else,” Juan advised.

Mason agreed.

Therefore, Juan was assured that even if it went against what instinctively Mason might wish to do, he would give Del Torres a fair-fight, at least as far as a fair fight would go in this circumstance.

“Oh, rest assured, Juan. I’ll give him as fair of a fight as he is giving us.”

Juan laughed. There was no mistaking Mason’s intent with that statement. “I guess fairness is subjective in nature.” The wise gentleman offered.

“Yes, it is, and if Carlos so much as attempts to raise a weapon to her or any one of your men, I will personally send him on a permanent reunion with his brother. That, Juan, my friend, is a promise I am fully prepared to keep.”

Mason hoped Juan would look the other way should things not be exactly to the letter of the law. This was far from usual circumstances. Nor was Carlos a common street thug. Carlos was a vicious serial killer.