Damian (The Caine Brothers #3) (6 page)

“Yes.”

“We do a lot of business in America, especially through Texas, and your father has always been a friend, for a price.”

Elena froze. No way her dad took payoffs from a drug lord. What for? Blocking drug legislation? Keeping borders open? Turning a blind eye? Being eyes, ears, and a voice in America for a Latin American drug cartel? Good God, the idea left her queasy. But how well did she really know him? Nobody in Congress was clean, and her dad had been putting a lot more energy than usual into fundraising, so maybe he’d tried to change his arrangement with this guy.

“I don’t believe you,” she said. Whether or not she really did, she’d be better off playing the role he expected of her, which seemed to be meek senator’s daughter. She’d probably survive this a lot easier in that role than as a CIA agent. She had no illusions that despite his courteous façade, he was ruthless enough to kill her where she sat.

He shrugged in a way that suggested his sorrow for her lost innocence. “We never really know those we’re closest to, no?”

“Even if what you say is true, why would you kidnap me?”

“Kidnap is a strong word. You’re my guest until your father responds to my request to talk.”

“Guest implies I can come and go.”

“You work for the CIA?”

His questions turned on a dime. “Yes. I’m an accountant.”

“You know all the secrets, chiquita?” His voice and smile implied teasing, but she doubted that. How often did he get his hands on a CIA employee? Of course he’d ask questions.

“No, sir. Only how much my boss spends on candy bars every month.” She threw in a nervous laugh for effect. She wanted to change the subject before he decided to interrogate her to find out what she knew about the agency. “Where am I, exactly?”

“My home in Colombia.”

At least now she knew what continent she was on.

“And you sent a message to my father?”

She had no idea what her father would do in response to her kidnapping. Would he talk to Ramos? Would he leave her there? He couldn’t very well go to anyone in authority for help. He’d have to tell them he’d been associating illegally with a drug lord. She thought of Damian. She could use a SEAL team about now.

“Yes, carina. If he wants his daughter back alive, he’ll be in touch.”

Great. She swallowed hard and opened her eyes wide in mock fear. It wasn’t hard to imitate. She had no weapon and no means of escape, at least not yet. If he wanted to kill her, he could. “Please don’t kill me,” she said.

His shrug was discouragingly noncommittal. It conveyed how short her life was likely to be.

“How long did you give him to respond?”

“Twenty-four hours.”

The likelihood was that she’d have to get out on her own, but she’d wait long enough to see how her father responded. In the meantime, she’d learn everything she could, and prepare for an escape.

“He’ll get back to you. He wouldn’t let you kill me.” She added a little waver to her voice.

He stood and offered his hand. “Are you hungry?”

She actually was, but it didn’t escape her attention that he ignored her reference to killing her, which to her meant he planned to kill her. “Yes,” she said, but she had one other concern first. “Can I get some shoes?”

***

Damian hauled ass to the war room of the carrier, anchored in the Caribbean near Panama. He and his team had been recalled from leave for an urgent mission. The other teams had been on maneuvers, but still managed to get there faster than collecting his teammates scattered all over the country. He’d spent his flight wishing he’d gone back to say goodbye to Elena. He wanted another taste of her. He wanted to dig his fingers deep into her hair again, feel her lips wrap warm and tight around his cock, wake up with her in his arms.

Jesus. Get out of my head.
He’d never been so whipped by a woman. It was stupid.

Their team leader, Cory “Compass” West stood outside the room with the rest of the guys.

“Way to bring up the rear, Beast,” Terrell “Hung” Hull said.

“Shut up, Dick.”

“It’s Hung.”

“I think you gave yourself that name, man,” Wolfe “Big Bad” Jarrett said.

Terrell smiled and shrugged. “Evidence speaks for itself.”

“Keep the evidence to yourself. Nobody here needs proof,” Dante “Chill” Winters said.

West shot them a warning glare. “Cool it. Let’s head in.”

One at a time they ducked through the hatch into the war room. Lieutenant Decker, the officer in charge, stood at the front of the room chatting with Admiral Preston and a suit.

“Why’s Preston here?” Tyson “Suede” Monroe asked.

“Shut your hole and we’ll find out,” Grady “Buck” McCormick said.

Decker turned to face the room as Damian and his team took their seats. Both Preston and the suit stood stone-faced behind him. “Okay, guys, let’s get started.” He clicked a remote and a map of Central and northern South America filled the screen. “We’ve been assigned a hostage rescue—a high value target. You all know the commander. This is Agent Dorsey. He’s a Case Officer with Langley. Commander? You want to address the men before we go over mission specs?”

Preston stepped up “I do. Gentlemen, this mission is time sensitive. The target is an agency employee who’s been kidnapped by Los Reyes and is being held at their compound in Colombia. We’ll be coordinating with the CIA to retrieve her.”

“Her?” West asked. “Is she an agent?”

Dorsey stepped up. “She’s an auditor in the accounting department.”

“Wait, what?” Damian blurted.

“Stow it,” Decker barked.

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir,” Damian said. His gut had wrenched at Dorsey’s announcement. He had to be talking about Elena. How many female auditors did the CIA have? Okay, probably a few, but the coincidence was too much. So why in the world would a drug cartel kidnap Elena?

“Her father is Texas senator Mitchell. The daughter’s name is Elena Mitchell. She was taken from the family home in Houston on July fourth—two days ago. Renaldo Ramos, also known as El Jefe, the head of Los Reyes, sent a ransom demand.”

West’s hand shot up. “Sir, why her?”

Dorsey focused on West and frowned. “She’s a senator’s daughter and she’s CIA. That’s a high profile target.”

“Sorry, sir. Sure she’s high profile, but not a good target of opportunity. I mean, they had to put together a complex plan to take her from her father’s home on a holiday.”

“In the middle of a big party,” Damian added. Everyone looked at him. “I was there. So was Admiral Preston. It was packed with people. Like West said, certainly not based on opportunity.”

Dorsey’s lips thinned to a disapproving line, but Preston answered. “That’s need to know, and you don’t need to know it. Your job is to go in and get the girl out.”

“Our agent on the ground in Bogota puts the compound here,” Dorsey used his finger to draw a circle on the interactive board around a remote mountain jungle area of Colombia. “We’ve provided the intel we have on the compound and the cartel.”

Decker waved a packet of papers in the air to demonstrate the available information. “You’ll read this on the way to the site.”

“We have a twenty-four hour window to get in. We’ve been working with the senator, and he’s informed Ramos that he needs the time to collect the ransom and get it to the drop-off location,” Dorsey said.

Decker clicked another button on the remote and a satellite map of the compound popped up on the screen. It covered a plateau on top of a mountain. A river snaked near the base of the property, but dense, dark green jungle covered the whole fucking map, otherwise.

“Here’s the main house—mansion really—and surrounding outbuildings. There’s an air strip at this end of the property, but only one road in from civilization.” Decker pointed at a narrow dirt road that wound through the jungle foothills, twisting back and forth until it appeared in the large clearing fronting the mansion. “This road in back leads out into the jungle and presumably to other cartel properties.”

“We don’t have an accurate guard count,” Dorsey said, “but Ramos has a reputation for keeping a large army. Attempts have been made on his life by rivals, so he’s well protected at all times. Assume a large opposition force.”

“We believe Ramos is holding the girl at the main house,” Decker continued. “Squad one and two, your mission will be to infiltrate the mansion, locate, and extract the hostage.”

West nodded, as did Ewing, leader of squad two. Damian was glad he’d be on one of the squads searching for Elena. If they’d had him on some shit duty, he’d have done it, but it would have been a hard sell to keep from going after her.

Sitting there listening to Decker give them the details of the mission, Damian couldn’t help thinking if he’d gone back to say goodbye, maybe he could have thwarted the kidnapping. That made her his responsibility. Sure, he wanted her anyway. She was practically his, so damn right he’d go get her out of there. Then he’d teach her how to be safe. Hell, he’d keep her safe.

“Squad three, you clear and hold the extraction site here, at the airstrip,” Decker pointed out the location. “We’ll send in Chinooks for pickup at your radio request. Squad four, you’ll clear and hold the south front of the mansion, and Squad five you’ll clear and hold the north back of the mansion.”

Nods and murmurs of acknowledgement drifted through the room as the men received their assignments.

Decker clicked the remote again, and a picture of Elena filled the screen. “This is your target. Elena Mitchell. Five nine, one hundred forty-ish pounds, brown hair, blue eyes.”

Damian’s heart lurched. She was more beautiful than he remembered, and he remembered her as pretty damn gorgeous. Her eyes sparkled with mischief in the picture, and her lips curled into an impish smirk.

“She’s fucking hot,” Terrell whispered.

“Keep your giant dick in your pants, asshole,” Damian growled.

Terrell shot him a ‘what-the-fuck’ glance.

Jesus. When Damian looked at Elena all he could think was
mine,
which threw him for a loop. What was his problem? He couldn’t do his job if emotions clouded his judgment.

“Problem, gentlemen?” Decker asked.

“No, sir,” Terrell said.

Damian didn’t like the idea of some scumbag drug lord holding Elena captive. Sure, she was smart and athletic, but she was in the middle of a jungle and she shuffled paper for a living. She was completely unequipped for the situation.

“Ms Mitchell speaks Spanish and is healthy and fit,” Dorsey said. “So, as long as Ramos keeps her at the mansion, she’ll be fine, but we only have the short window to get her out. After that, there’s no telling what Ramos will do. He’s been known to make examples of his enemies and their families.”

Damian shuddered at the thought of Ramos sending bits and pieces of Elena back to her father to motivate him, until Ramos lost patience and just sent her head.

Not on his watch.

“So, the mission will be a high altitude night drop,” Decker said, clicking back to the satellite shot of the compound. “Since the total area of the plateau is small, we’ll do two consecutive drops and you’ll need to be precise in targeting your landing zone. You’re going in hot, so once you’re on the ground, proceed to your assigned areas and clear the enemy asap. Squad one and two, you’ll land on the roof, here,” he pointed at the mansion. “The place is equipped for helicopter landing, so has roof access into the building. Get inside, clear the enemy, find the hostage, and make your way back to the extraction site.”

“Yes, sir,” West said.

“What if things go bad?” Ewing asked.

“Secondary extraction is here,” Decker pointed to a small clearing along a river at the base of the mountain and several miles east. “If you’re unable to make it to the primary extraction point, head here. This location will get you away from the cartel compound to a place we can do a pickup. Okay, that’s it, boys. We deploy in an hour. Get your gear together.”

A chorus of ‘yes, sir’ circled the room, as the men collected their things and headed out to prep for the mission.

Damian’s mind focused on Elena. He hoped she could hang on until he got there.

It had been two days of forced pleasantness, surrounded by an army of cartel redshirts—Elena had lost count somewhere north of a hundred, which meant there had to be a lot more—all the while pretending not only that she didn’t speak Spanish, but that she was a terrified senator’s daughter and not a competent intelligence agent.

On the plus side, she had access to a place and people nobody in the agency ever had, so she did her best to be inconspicuous and listen.

“Querida,” Ramos said. “Are you comfortable?”

She sat in a cozy chair in the library—a surprisingly erudite collection, given the owner—and pretended to read. The library was adjacent to the office where he did business, and in the last couple of days he’d kept her close the whole time, assuming because she didn’t speak Spanish he was free to do business while he kept an eye on her. It precluded her from exploring, but at least she could eavesdrop on everything he said and did.

“I am, thank you,” she said. He’d had one of his many lackeys bring dresses for her from God knew where. The last thing she wanted to wear was a dress, but she could hardly say so. Today she wore a gauzy yellow sundress and sandals.

“Good.” He flopped into the seat across from her, letting out an exhausted sigh and putting his feet up on an ottoman. “It has been a long day.”

She held the book she’d been reading against her chest as a timid shield. “Have you heard from my father?”

After her initial meeting with Ramos where he’d informed her of the original message, he’d come back to tell her that her father had responded by begging Ramos not to hurt Elena, and asking for time to collect the ransom.

“He still has twelve hours before the exchange in Cartagena.”

“When do we leave?”

He cocked his head, a confused look scrunching his brows. “We?”

“Aren’t you trading me for the money?”

His face cleared and he smiled. “Ah, I see where you’ve become confused. You won’t be traded.”

Now it was her turn to look confused. Though in her gut she had a bad feeling about the answer she still asked, “Why not?”