Cold Day In Hell Read online

  “Babycakes, I don’t care if you’re the second coming of Rambo.” He tapped the tip of her nose with a finger. “You aren’t coming. Risto told you to stay put and he meant it. Both our asses would be chewed to hell and back if we disobey that particular order.”

  “But…”

  “No buts.” Conn placed his hands on her shoulders and rubbed. “Risto is fine. He’s been in far worse situations than this and lived to tell about it. He’s probably holed up evaluating his options. He’ll have more options with me and Berto to help. You’d be a distraction, divide his concentration. You don’t want to endanger him or us, right?”

  Damn the man knew just where to dig in the knife. Conn and Risto had done SSI missions here in Colombia together—they knew how each other thought and reacted. She’d be an unknown in the field and they’d feel the need to protect her. Her shoulders sagged and Conn gave them a gentle squeeze as if he’d followed her every thought. “No, never, it’s just … he’s risking himself for me—for nothing.”

  “Hell, I know that. And I plan to ream him a new asshole over that little thing. He damn well should’ve asked for back-up. Another reason you can’t go is we can’t take the chance someone might recognize you and let Cruz know. Risto wanted you safe—and safe you’ll stay.”

  Shit, he was right, and she hated it. She hadn’t thought, just reacted. She needed to get her head in the game or they wouldn’t make it out of Colombia. She took a breath and nodded. “Fine, but call me when you’re clear. I’ll go nuts waiting.”

  “As soon as we’re away from the hotel with Risto in tow, I’ll call the phone in this room.”

  She hugged him. “Be safe.” Bring Risto back to me.

  After Conn left, she sat on the couch, her shaking knees no longer able to hold her. Then she prayed as she’d never prayed in her life.

  * * * *

  Risto held perfectly still and listened to the two men in the other room. He’d dismantled the cameras in Callie’s former suite of rooms easily. The casita next door had been empty when he entered, but just as he started to dismantle the computer to remove the hard drives, he heard the thudding sound of feet and men’s laughing voices coming toward the room. He quickly put the computer back to the way he’d found it, including the USB back-up drive, and fled to one of the bedrooms off the main salon.

  Cruz’s surveillance team was not only derelict in their duty, but also sloppy. They immediately sat down without clearing the rooms and shot the shit in crude Spanish about two women they’d just met in the bar. Their monitors remained dark. Risto could see the red flashing lights telling them their feed was dead or interrupted, but the bozos hadn’t seen the warning lights yet or just didn’t care. From what he could surmise, they’d taken a drink-and-tittie break together against orders.

  Such disregard for duty told him they weren’t “real” soldiers but merely hired help, doing work for which Cruz’s battle-tough soldiers had no aptitude. They’d be easy to take out—and take them out he would, brutally. He didn’t care that they were geeks; he didn’t appreciate the way they spoke of Callie. The talkative twosome also commented on the fact Cruz was out for Risto’s blood and had instituted a city-wide manhunt for him and Callie. He’d expected as much and was glad Callie was safe at Conn’s.

  Patience being a virtue and having saved his ass many a time, he waited to make his move on the men until after he was certain no one was coming to relieve them any time soon. He’d hate to get interrupted while taking their asses down.

  And once again, patience proved to be a good move. The door to the suite opened and two men joined the others. The new guys were loaded for bear; these two were soldiers.

  One of the soldiers, the leader from his bearing and the way the other men reacted to him, said, “We’ve just come from Señorita Calista’s room. The cameras have been destroyed.” One of the surveillance team woke up his computer and turned pale when the screen showed no feed. “Where were you two when this happened?”

  “We were here,” one of the computer geeks said, his face as white as the stuccoed walls.

  Wrong answer, bozo.

  “Liar. If you’d been here, you would have seen someone entering the room.” The lead soldier struck both men, knocking them to the floor. Fuck, this could get ugly really fast. “You were both seen in the hotel bar, flirting with the waitresses, stuffing your faces and drinking tequila.” The leader kicked the downed men in their ribs, repeatedly. Their groans and pleas for mercy didn’t faze the soldier at all. “Because of your incompetence, we have missed the chance to capture this person and make him tell us where Cruz’s woman is.”

  Not Cruz’s woman. My woman.

  “No … no … please don’t…”

  Two shots rang out. The surveillance team was dead. Risto wasn’t sorry. They would’ve bragged about seeing Callie naked, and he would’ve had to kill them himself. Cruz’s man had just saved him the hassle.

  “Pack up this equipment,” the leader ordered the other soldier who’d stood guard as his superior had taken out the two men. “I’ll take the jump drive with the film images. Señor Cruz wants it in a safe place.”

  “Sí, patron. The DVD? Do you wish this also, or shall I leave it in the computer?”

  “I’ll take it. Señor Cruz will not want it lost.” The leader removed the USB jump drive from the connection on the back of the computer and popped out a DVD Risto would never have thought to take. He had to get those from the man before he left the hotel grounds. Risto would return to get the hard drives. The guy packing up the equipment would have to make more than one trip.

  Decision made, Risto moved as silently as a hunting cat. Exiting by the French doors to a small patio, he slipped through the privacy landscaping and slid around the corner of the casita just as his target left.

  Blending into the shadows, he paralleled the man’s movements. When his prey took a path which led toward the main part of the hotel, Risto made his move. He grabbed him, one hand over his mouth and the other grabbing his jaw. With a quick snap, he broke the man’s neck. He dragged the body to the bushes and searched him to find the storage media. Finding them easily, he also confiscated a nice double-edged knife and a semi-automatic pistol and extra clips. Never knew when he and Callie might need the extra weaponry. Scanning his surroundings and finding no one, he slipped into the shadows and headed back to get the hard drives.

  Re-entering the casita through the patio doors he’d left open, he halted just inside. He raised his gun. Two large forms were in the room; their weapons were trained on him. An amused chuckle reached him. He knew that laugh.

  He inhaled, then exhaled, and lowered his weapon. He moved closer to the two. He could see them clearly now with the light coming in from the other room. “Fuck it, Conn. I could’ve shot you and Berto. What the fuck you doing here?” He had a horrifying thought. “Is Callie okay?”

  “Callie’s fine. You were late, old buddy. Plus, you should’ve told me what you were hunting for. This was a two-man job at the very least. And you know it.” Conn scowled at him.

  “I don’t need a fucking babysitter.” The other man raised an eyebrow, his lips twisting into a sardonic smile at Risto’s sarcasm. “I was just being cautious.”

  “Which is what I told your woman. And since I agree you needed to get the nasty videos of Callie, I won’t be reaming you a new asshole.” Conn looked over his shoulder toward the main room. “The two dead guys? Your work?”

  “Nope. But I did just break the neck of the guy who did them and retrieved the back-up drives I came for. You take care of the guy hauling out the equipment?”

  “Yep. Me and Berto took the opportunity to dismantle the computer and retrieve the hard drives. We were just coming out this way to hunt for you.”

  Berto grinned and held up three hard drives. He wondered what else might be on the drives. “We took them all. We figured there might be other information on them SSI might find useful.” Great minds think alike.

  �
��Good thinking.” Risto fingered the single USB drive and the DVD in his pocket and wondered if there were any other portable back-up media out there, but decided to deal with the fallout from those, if any, when it occurred. He’d accomplished what he’d come for. “Then we’re good to go.” He smiled grimly. “And I think all the corpses will send Cruz a serious message.”

  Conn smiled. “I just love it when a plan comes together. We have a car parked on a side street. We need to get out of here before Cruz decides to backtrack and re-cover old territory. He set the jackals on you and they weren’t told to bring you back alive.”

  So Cruz had taken the game to the next level. Damn, every mercenary or mercenary wannabe in Colombia would be trying to get a piece of him. He’d be a moving target.

  Maybe he should leave Callie with Conn and set off on his own, act as a decoy, and let the extraction team come into Cartagena and slip her out after he drew the hounds away.

  Something twisted in his gut at the thought. No, he’d stick with the plans he and Ren had worked out. Since he’d already moved Plan A up by twenty-four hours, they had the tactical advantage. Cruz would expect him to take a woman like Callie to a city with an airport and hire a private charter. Instead, they’d be going to a working cattle ranch south of the city and flying to Panama City and safety. Plans B and C were moves he’d rather not make, but neither were they ones Cruz could anticipate a beautiful woman such as Callie attempting. They were riskier since she’d have to do some trekking. But Keely and Tweeter, and Callie herself, had assured him she was up to the job.

  “Risto?” Conn tugged on his sleeve. “You planning on spending the night? As much as I’d like to take out some more of Cruz’s assholes, I think we need to go. Your woman is waiting.”

  “Sorry, just thinking about the next moves.” Conn was correct—the casita could soon be crawling with Cruz’s men. When hunting quarry, a good hunter never forgot that prey tended to return to the place where they were first flushed out. It was a territorial thing—prey had their comfort zone. Smart prey, those who deviated from this zone, proved Darwin’s Theory about adaptation. Only the strongest survived.

  “Well, think about them later in the safety of my house.” Conn led the way to the patio doors. They exited and worked their way through the landscaping, staying away from the landscape lighting but using the ambient light to show them the way.

  Berto took point as Conn dropped back. “I had to talk Callie into staying put. She wanted to come.”

  Risto grinned. “Told you.”

  “Yeah, you got that woman figured out all right.” Conn shot him a sideways glance. “You keeping her?”

  “No.” Risto thought he heard Conn mutter “stupid son of a bitch.” Well, he didn’t disagree, but it would be better for Callie to find a normal guy, one who didn’t break necks as easily as twisting off a bottle cap. One who didn’t carry a lot of emotional baggage from a shitty childhood with a dictatorial, stern paternal grandfather and an adulthood of fighting and killing in wars no one understood.

  The three stopped at the corner of the hotel property and a small side street. Lots of people out and about. No way to tell who was just out for a fun evening of bar hopping and who was hunting. Berto signaled he’d go ahead and bring back the car.

  Risto turned to Conn who was on his secure sat phone. “Who you calling?”

  Conn grinned. “Callie. The sweet darling made me promise to call when I had your ass out of there. It was part of the deal in keeping her million-dollar butt at my place.” He held up a finger. “Callie. We’re clear. He’s fine. Not a scratch. We’ll be there in about thirty minutes. Yeah, a light meal sounds good. My kitchen is your kitchen. Bye.”

  “Thanks for making her stay put.” His gut clenched thinking about what could’ve happened if they’d run across some of Cruz’s men on their way to cover his ass.

  “Not a problem.” Conn’s smile dimmed and his expression became more serious. “You do know she’s halfway to being in love with you, don’t you?”

  “No, she isn’t.” At Conn’s snort, Risto added, “Hell, you’ve done hostage rescue and personal security. The women victims usually get a hard case of hero worship. Once they get back to civilization and their lives, they go back to their usual type of men. Callie’s a lady. I’m not a gentleman. ’Nuff said.”

  Conn grunted. “You keep on lying to yourself. Callie wants you. She was ready to strap on a gun and come with us to pull your ass out of whatever trouble it had gotten into. The fact she stayed put was because she didn’t want to divide your concentration and get you killed.” He slapped Risto on the back as Berto angled the car next to their hiding place. “Face it, buddy, she wants you. You just have to get over whatever in the fuck bug you’ve lodged in that tight ass of yours and decide whether you want her.”

  Risto glared. “Of course, I want her. What man wouldn’t want Callie in his bed, in his life? But I’m not the man she needs.”

  “You’re too hard on yourself. You’re an honorable man doing dirty jobs which need doing. Callie isn’t stupid or naive. She grew up on marine bases. Her dad was one of us. I’m betting the little lady knows exactly what she wants in a man—and I’m looking at him.” Conn climbed into the passenger seat. After Risto got in the back, his friend turned and looked over the seat. “I want an invite to the wedding.”

  Risto snarled and said nothing. There’d be no wedding. He’d take Callie home and never look back. It was best for both of them.

  He’d take any sex she offered him tonight; it might be his only chance to have her, to live some of his fantasies. Tomorrow night, she could be home in her own bed. After that, he’d leave and stay out of her life. Even if she went to work for Ren, Risto would be spending most of his time in Michigan. He’d very rarely run across her at Sanctuary, only when he attended meetings and trainings.

  He laid his head against the head support. God, he hoped she hadn’t changed her mind about the sex. The adrenaline running through his body made him horny as hell—and only Callie could help. Then he glanced at his hands and swore silently. Shit, he shouldn’t touch her, shouldn’t be anywhere near her. He’d broken a man’s neck, would’ve taken out the other men if someone else hadn’t done so.

  Wearily, he closed his eyes. Fuck! He’d man up, bunk in another room, and take a cold shower. He’d use his murdering hands to pleasure himself. The way he felt right now, he’d be too rough on Callie, rougher than his usual. He’d scare her, possibly hurt her—and he’d break his own fucking neck before he did either of those things.

  Chapter Seven

  After the all-clear call from Conn, Callie felt as if a load had been lifted. She grinned and did a happy dance around their suite of rooms. The offer to make a meal for the returning men had been a spur of the moment decision. She wanted to feed them, these men who placed their lives on the line to save her future embarrassment. Plus, she’d recalled something her dad once told her about post-adrenaline crash—“Baby girl, men after a mission want three things: food and maybe some alcohol, getting their rocks off, and sleep, in that order.” Her dad had never shied away from telling her like it was, even when it came to sexual things. He wanted her to know what to watch out for, especially since she lived on a base with so many macho and horny marines. He also made sure his men knew that “no meant no” when it came to women—and that Callie was hands off, which is why she hadn’t had sex until Tweeter Walsh asked her.

  Turning back to the here and now, she could easily handle the food and drink for all three men—and later she’d take care of the sex then sleep for Risto. Conn and Berto were on their own for the latter two needs.

  Slipping out of the room, she raced down the back stairs to the kitchen. She poked around and began assembling a small make-your-own-taco mini-buffet with rice and beans on the side. She fried the corn tortillas on the state-of-the-art restaurant-grade stove and put them in a warmer drawer until the men got home. The shredded pork she’d found in the fridge was simmer
ing in a pot. Someone had already chopped the toppings, which led her to believe Conn and his men often ate tacos as a quick, easy meal. She grinned. Made it easier for her. The beans needed to cook longer, but the rice was done and she placed it in the warming drawer.

  A slight noise from the great room reminded her that Conn had left two men to guard her and the house. Javier and, um, Ricky. She’d just check to see if they wanted to eat also. She’d need to fry up some more tortillas, if so.

  She took a minute or so to make sure the beans were simmering and not ready to boil over, then left the kitchen by the door leading to a hallway running the depth of the house. The great room was off this hallway toward the front of the mansion. When she reached the room, she heard no sound. The room was dark, only the flickering light of a muted television and the security monitors lit the room. One of the men, she couldn’t tell which, was sitting on the couch; it looked as if he was resting. She didn’t see the other guy, probably outside doing a perimeter check. Conn told her they did so every hour unless something showed on the monitors.

  Walking quietly, so as not to disturb the man’s short nap, she moved until she was next to the couch. Her stomach heaved. Swallowing hard, she took a step back. Javier wasn’t resting. Necks weren’t meant to bend that way. God, was the killer still in the house? She looked around. Saw nothing. Heard nothing. Who’d killed him? The sound she’d heard must have been the killer leaving the room, but where was he now?

  A thump upstairs answered the question of where. He’d gone up the main stairs as she’d approached from the back of the house. Why hadn’t the killer looked in the kitchen? She wasn’t going to seek him out to ask him, she was just glad he hadn’t.

  Several more thumps from above. Some louder, some softer. Shit, there had to be more than one of them. Were there others outside? Where was Ricky? Had they killed him, also?