Savage Love (Savage Trilogy 3)

I scale the exterior wall protecting the property, no longer protected by the security system, my tech guy, Nicolas, turned off ten minutes ago. I clear the top and jump, sand catches my fall, silencing my drop to the ground. I squat, staying low, scanning the moonlit property, nearby waves crashing onto rocks and shore—the wind rushing over me, salt on my lips and tongue that will soon turn to blood.

With that one guard inside the mansion with Juan Carlos, and my line of sight and hearing clear, I move freely through the thickest of the shadows, and I’m at a window at the side of the house in a few seconds. With practiced skill, I use a special tool, tap the glass just right and reach in and unlock the window. I’m inside the mansion in a few seconds, the darkness that greets me like a cloak I welcome. I give my eyes a few seconds to adjust, and then move through a sitting area of some sort, before heading up the stairs.

Nicolas speaks into my earpiece. “Target’s on the outdoor lounge area and balcony. His guard is standing on the west side inside an alcove.”

I don’t reply, nor does Nicolas expect me to. He’s too skilled, too familiar with this job—a tech genius, geek in glasses, who is also a killer. I almost like the guy but not really. I clear the second level and enter a dark hallway, flattening on a wall. In the distance, a muffled accented voice is speaking in Spanish, a one-sided conversation which means a phone call, something about a meeting that will end quickly.

I’m about to make my move when Nicolas warns, “Wait. Whatever you’re doing, wait. Fuck me. Kane Mendez just drove up in a fancy sports car.”

Of course, he did, I think. A two-for-one, but hell yeah, I’m all in. I eye a door that appears to be a closet, open it, confirm it is indeed an empty closet, and step inside. Voices echo and then shift, and a full five minutes later, I crack the door, confirming the voices are now coming from the outdoor area. Two voices. Nicolas seems to read my mind and confirms. “Juan Carlos and Kane are both outside at a table drinking whiskey. The guard is back in the alcove.”

I ease out of the closet and step into the hallway.

I hope Juan Carlos and his buddy Kane Mendez are enjoying an expensive pour since it will be their last.

It doesn’t take me long to cross the fancy living area and step through the open door into the alcove on the East side of the balcony. I share the same view the guard will own on the west side. As Nicolas indicated, Juan Carlos sits at a table opposite Kane Mendez, each holding a whiskey glass. Kane is wearing an expensive ass suit, custom fit and shiny. His dark hair is slicked back, his goatee trimmed perfectly. Juan Carlos is in jeans and a T-shirt, his thick hair curly and natural. Kane holds himself arrogant, confident, in control. Juan Carlos is cocky, on edge, shifting in his seat.

He’s nervous.

Interesting.

“I didn’t expect to see you here tonight, Kane,” he says.

“I could tell you that I’m here to check on my guest,” Kane replies, “but that would be a lie.” He doesn’t offer an explanation. “Why are you here?”

“I have business to attend to for your uncle.”

“He doesn’t know of any meetings.” Kane doesn’t sound pleased.

Juan Carlos laughs. “This is between me and your uncle.”

“If this was between you and my uncle, you’d be dead right now.”

Juan Carlos pales. “What are you talking about?”

“My father was a killer, Juan Carlos. A brutal killer. I hated him. My uncle is a brutal killer. I hate him as well. But both of them treated women with honor. My uncle has reason to believe that you do not share those beliefs and are in fact running a slave trade under his name. We know you’re here to negotiate the sale of a young girl.”

Holy hell, I think, drawing my weapon. I might actually have to save Kane Mendez’s life.

Juan Carlos sneers and his hand shifts under the table, and I watch the shift of steel above his lap. “You are not a part of this.”

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Kane says as if Juan Carlos hasn’t spoken, “you will release the women and girls at the US border and offer them each twenty thousand dollars. Should you not do this, you will die. Every person who you sold a woman to, will be found, and you will buy back, out of your pocket, their freedom.”

I am liking this Kane Mendez fellow.

Juan Carlos stares at Kane, seconds ticking by before he abruptly stands and points the gun at Kane. I shoot him right between the eyes. Kane rotates toward me. “Behind you!” he shouts, pulling his weapon.