Pleasing Her SEAL

“He touches her, he dies.” Which meant locating the guy stat.

“Not our call,” Gray cautioned him. “You follow orders.”

“And if we were looking at photos of Laney, you’d be the first to shoot.”

Gray nodded tersely. “I’m planning on sticking around for her, though, so I’d remember that not following orders tends to lead to unpleasant crap like a court martial.”

Duly noted. Unfortunately, shooting Santiago might not even be an option. The man was the king of escapes. He was always armed with an assault rifle and he’d spent the past two years in virtual lockdown in the jungles of Belize, hiding out in his fortified palace. No reckless spending, car racing or nightclubs for Santiago. Sure, they knew where he was more or less, but a single dirt road led to the guy’s front door and the Black Hawks echoed. Today, despite their best efforts, he’d either seen or heard them coming and he’d cleared out.

Gray cursed, conducting a last visual sweep of the office. They practically qualified as professional movers, Mason decided. The place was neat—just a whole lot emptier than when they’d entered. Santiago could bitch to the US government if he didn’t like his redecorating job. “If he’s not here, where did he go?”

“Three guesses. The first two don’t count.” Mason grabbed his load of hardware. Seriously, he didn’t want the souvenirs. Nope. What he wanted was action. The faster he got back to the Black Hawk, the faster they put the bird up in the air and made for Fantasy Island.

“Why would Santiago head for Fantasy Island? So what if he’s got a picture fetish for Maddie? Doesn’t mean he’s going to risk it all to meet her in person.” Sam didn’t hesitate, though. He hefted his pile of gear and hotfooted it out of the room.

“Because he believes he’s uncatchable,” Gray said grimly. “The man’s an escape expert and a pain-in-the-ass Houdini. He’s wriggled out of more tight spots than anyone else. Plus, the Fantasy Island wedding was a cover. It was going to be a high-level meeting of key players in the Marcos organization. A chance to party and spend some of the hundreds of millions they’ve made in the illegal drug trade.” He blew out a breath. “Our boy likes his fiestas, and instead of a party, he got a re-org. Marcos is down for the count, so Santiago moves up to the number one spot.”

Levi whistled. “You really think he’s going after Maddie?”

“It’s not a chance I’m taking.” Mason picked up the pace, running through the front door and out into the courtyard.

Boots hit the ground next to him. “Not your call,” Gray bit out.

“Seriously? You’re going to give me shit on this one?” Because leaving Maddie alone and vulnerable wasn’t happening. He’d left her alone in her room, sure, but he’d believed she was safe. That nothing bad could happen to her where she was.

Gray pulled ahead, tossing his armload of computer drives at the SEAL waiting inside the Black Hawk’s empty bay. “No,” he said solemnly. “I’m not. We’ll let the other team take our bonus boy for a little Q and A. We’ll go back to Fantasy Island.”

“Quickly.” Mason knew he’d catch hell for this one later, but he didn’t give a shit. Passing over his load, he climbed on board, Sam and Levi on his heels.

“I wasn’t proposing we stop and hit the duty-free,” Gray said drily.

Jokes weren’t cutting it right now. Mason wanted speed. “Santiago has a two-hour head start on us.”

“And we’ve got a Black Hawk, the US military and a roomful of DEA tech geeks.” Gray held up his phone. “DEA had been reporting plenty of chatter since Marcos went down. Santiago usually runs on radio silence—no email, no phone calls, no contact. His guys don’t talk to him directly, but they know what the boss wants them to do. Cut the head off the organization and the lieutenants still need to talk, right? Santiago’s boys are going to be itchy and looking for orders.”

Levi cracked a hard smile. “So has ET phoned home yet?”

Gray nodded. “Looks like it. The DEA has been monitoring all of the phone lines and email accounts associated with-known traffickers in Santiago’s network, waiting for someone to make a move. We didn’t have so much as a tickle this morning, but someone started making calls an hour ago. Santiago’s on the move, he’s pissed and he’s looking to ‘make a statement.’”