CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The satellite phone rang in the jet somewhere over the Caribbean Sea. Winters would’ve answered it if he could’ve, a thousand questions at the ready. Instead, he was sentenced to a flight where every man trained their gaze on him, unsure if he’d ratchet down his fury. Their plan was based on strategic assumptions and scientific wild-ass guesses, but cartel kingpins didn’t always behave according to plan.
Jared hit the speakerphone button. “Give us something good, Parker.”
“Good? Hell, I’ll give you fan-freakin’-tastic. Mia called our headquarters. I’m sure she knew I wasn’t Winters but never let on. She kept her cool, described her location, and I checked a few things out. You guys are headed to the right locale.”
His girl was alive. Could he get an amen, hallelujah?
Jared shot a confused glance to Winters, who shrugged.
“Why did Silva have her call?” Jared asked.
“He wants to deal with Winters and thought he was still stateside.”
Winters paced the length of the airborne war room. He paused, then drummed his fingers on the corner of the table.
“So we’ve got the element of surprise,” Jared said. “Given that it’s five men to their army, we’ll need that. Anything else?”
“What? A location confirmation and proof of life isn’t enough?” Parker asked.
Proof of life. Winters never should have left her alone. This was his mistake. That realization struck him numb, and he raked a hand over his jaw.
“What’s our timeline for Winters to make contact?” Jared asked.
“I think our boy should give him a ring.” Parker paused. “Offer up the NOC list in exchange for her. I think Silva wanted it to sink in before they chatted.”
“Sink in?” Winters asked.
“I got the vibe Silva wanted Winters to sweat it. He’s not pulling the standard operating procedure for a ransom request.”
“What a prick. All right. Patch us through to wherever Mia called from.” Jared pointed at Winters with a ready sign.
He nodded back.
“Roger that,” Parker said.
A ringing sound echoed in the belly of the plane. Each long pause in between ate at his sanity. On the fifth ring, a woman answered.
“Colby Winters for Juan Carlos Silva. He’s expecting my call.”
“Si.” The phone went silent. He raised his brows, silently asking if they still had a connection.
Invisible boulders weighted his shoulders and his mind. He needed to stretch. He wanted to fight. But more than that, he braced for every appalling outcome.
“Ah, Mr. Winters.” A voice, iceberg cold, filled the galley through the overhead speakers. “I trust you found time to consider the gravity of your situation. You must be interested in your lovely friend’s safe return.”
“Safe is preferred.” Games worked both ways. He’d play.
“So you do realize she can come home in several different ways. A plane. A box. One piece or two.”
“What’s it going to take, Silva?” His fingers flexed with the urge to reach through the phone and rip the fucker's throat out.
“Of course you know. I want that list. You hand it to me, I hand you your girl. And she is your girl, isn’t she? I have an eye for these things. It makes me superior at my job.”
Ripping his throat out would be too easy. Too fast. Disembowelment first. Skinning him alive second.
“She is exquisite,” Silva said. “Even with the bruises.”
Winters’s teeth gnashed. If he hadn’t willed them apart, they would have shattered.
“She’s not yours to touch. Unmarred and unhandled, or no list.” He hid his rage, storing it for Juan Carlos Silva. No warning of his caged fury slipped through his measured cadence.
“Her injuries were accidental. Nothing more will harm her if we can make a deal. If not, I promised her to one of my best, albeit most fiendish, men. I am sure things would not end well for her in that predicament.”
Anger thumped in his chest. Each guilt-drenched breath ached. Juan Carlos baited him. Winters knew it.
“The list is yours. But hear me like your world depends on it, Silva. Because it does. If Mia so much as sneezes in your care, I’ll make you pray for death.”
“Mr. Winters, no need for threats. My offer is true. If you make the exchange, she will be returned. Unharmed. If I do not receive the list, then…she will be harmed. Comprehende?”
The things Silva would comprehend when Winters was finished with him would be innumerable. First lesson. Don’t fuck with my girl.
Winters diverted his attention from mapping out lesson number two. “How do you want to do this?”
“Fly to Medellin via private charter. I expect you will arrive by midnight our time. I will have my driver escort you to my home. Come alone. Do not bring any men. Do not bring any weapons. Any failure to follow my directions will result in catastrophic repercussions.”
Following the rules was never his forte. “Where will your men take me?”
“What does that matter? Your ground transport will be arranged.”
“I’m supposed to trust you will return us to the airport. No harm? That sounds like a load of Colombian crap to me.”
“Such language. I have no need for either of you. Whether you like what I do or not, my reputation is sterling. My word, solid gold. If I speak, if I promise, you should listen.”
Winters bet Mia was psychoanalyzing the hell out of this piece of cartel trash.
“Besides, what other choice do you have?” Silva asked.
“We’ll meet on your terms. I’ll be in Colombia midnight, local time.”
Adios, motherfucker. He sliced at his neck. Jared punched a button. Parker cut the connection. No one spoke before the line disconnect was confirmed.
Winters forced his muscles to relax and whistled a death march. “He doesn’t have a clue we’re on our way, does he?”
Jared pursed his lips. “He might. If things are going too easy, we’re walking into an ambush. Silva didn’t rise to the top by being slow to the game. By now, he should know more about Titan. I’d say you two just did a sparring two-step.”
Winters crumbled a scrap of paper from their table and threw it into the trash can. “Fuck him. I'll quick step all over his tango face.”
“You’re going to follow orders.”
“Yeah, yeah. I get it. It’s your rodeo, Jared.”
“You’re goddamn right. Now, if you don’t mind, let’s finalize the details.” He flipped the remote and shuffled through the satellite images. “The tree line here, overlooking the gate will be our best for surveillance. Cash, you set up a protective watch here. You’ll handle any unexpected men during our entry and cover our asses on the way out.”
Cash nodded, his cowboy hat pulled low. He grabbed a set of printed images and turned to study them.
“Brock, you’ll handle diversions at the front gate.” Jared pointed, analyzing the screen. “Rocco, I need you on wheels. We should have an armored Range Rover ready when we land. It’s all yours. Our contacts in Colombia will have staged anything at our rendezvous point that wouldn’t pack in that vehicle. C4 and charges. Extra guns and ammo. If you don’t see something you need, tell me.”
Brock and Rocco knew the deal. Jared turned his focus. “And Winters, I’ll kick your leatherneck, devil dog ass from Colombia to the States and back again, if you run in there like your dick’s on fire.”
Winters grunted. He didn’t respond to Jared. Didn’t even look at him.
“I’m not messing with you, Winters. If you don’t get yourself under control, I’ll bench you on this one. You’ll sit your ass on this plane until we get back, like a little bitch. Hell, I’ll let Brock sweep in and rescue your girl.”
Brock cocked half a grin and raised an eyebrow. “I’d be down with that, buddy.”
“Fuck you.” Winters turned from one man to the next. “And fuck you, too.”
Brock laughed and slapped Winters on the back. “I’ve never seen you worked up like this. Who the hell knew it was possible?”
Jared cut in. “All right, all right. Winters, you’ll be the same cold asshole, as always.”
“Yeah, yeah. 10-4.” Winters glared and cracked his knuckles. “I’m focused.”
“Glad we have this all under control, lover boy.”