Chapter 14

The port of Houston was a hub of activity and commerce. It was crowded with ships, containers, and dockworkers. With little effort, the drug smugglers blended in. Illegal cargo into the country was routine and very profitable.

Almanza Villareal was more important than the rest of the gangsters. He had talents that the others lacked. Deadly in their own right, any one of them had killed, often too many times to count. Moving drugs into the country was big business, and anyone in the way was dealt with accordingly.

At the age of forty, Almanza garnered much respect. The boss gave him special assignments, and he could be counted on to see each one through. Some marveled that he’d lived as long as he had. An assassin’s life was dangerous.

Almanza took pride that his face was displayed on the most-wanted list by American authorities. He was sought after, and feared yet respected. And that stood for something. Yet the approval he most cared about was that of the cartel boss.

To lose that approval meant certain death. Long ago, Almanza had made his choice to kill rather than be killed. He’d garnered a reputation and was known only by his first name—no more was needed. To speak the name Almanza was to acknowledge a man who was fearless.

His victims didn’t know in advance that Almanza was coming for them. He didn’t announce his presence, as staying hidden was vital to achieving his aims. The death blow he dealt was swift and effective, the way it should be.

Almanza had entered Houston via the port. It was convenient to travel on one of the ships utilized by the cartel. He appeared to be part of the ship’s crew, a Hispanic who looked like many others. No one would pick him out of a crowd.

If another described him, it would be to say that he looked like a farmer. His bland, unsmiling demeanor disguised his real nature. Under the guise of normalcy, his vile intent was buried.

Almanza came across as a poorly educated, hardworking family man. He was certain of this, because he purposely led others to believe that was the kind of man he was. It was a believable ruse, and even those on the cartel ship didn’t know his true identity.

It was safer that way. Rumors of his kills had spread throughout the cartels. Yet rarely could any man claim to have seen him. Only the boss could make contact, deliver orders, and lay eyes on the notorious assassin. Those circumstances had elevated his escapades to legendary status.

Almanza saw to his duties at the dock, working beside his shipmates. And when he determined the way was clear, he simply disappeared. He had a new target, an American, and needed to prepare.

Almanza went to a recently acquired house in Third Ward, a temporary place for him to stay. The crime-ridden area was avoided by any but the most dedicated gangs, thus his arrival went unnoticed. He was just one more gang member among many.

He knew how to behave, and understood the mentality of the neighborhood. Any threat against him could be easily dealt with, although it would be a distraction. So he made a point to avoid interaction.

It didn’t take long to settle in, considering that he didn’t have any luggage. The one bag he carried contained weapons. He stowed them with care, as was his habit. In case some hapless person stumbled into the dilapidated house, he couldn’t take a chance of his weapons being stolen.

Ocean travel was wearying, so Almanza stretched out on the bare mattress. He needed food, but preferred to go out after dark. He would plan out his new mission as soon as he had all the details. His thoughts went to his most recent kill.

It hadn’t been much of a challenge, but disappearing the traitor had been momentarily satisfying. Killing outsiders or enemies was commonly called disappearing the person. He didn’t know why murder wasn’t a more appropriate label. It was the real nature of the deed. So Almanza didn’t see that it should be called anything else.

He hadn’t kept a tally of such deeds, since it was all in the line of duty. The kills numbered in the dozens, yet he had no remorse. He didn’t recall names or faces, just the location where each victim had been terminated. The reason for taking the life hadn’t varied. It was enough that the person was a threat, even a minor one.

Outsiders were in peril from the start, and members of other cartels who crossed into protected territory didn’t live long. Anyone who dissented, even so much as to disagree with the boss, was gone without comment.

Many of those situations were handled by other gang members. Almanza’s skills weren’t required for every person who was targeted. He was assigned to the more difficult high-profile targets.

In the organization, Almanza was a lugarteniente, a lieutenant or plaza boss. It meant that he had the status of an enforcer, and as such, he made sure that members quickly learned the rules or were violently dealt with.

Responsibilities and operating procedures were communicated informally, with no written rules or guidelines, since many members were illiterate and lacked formal education. But it didn’t take long for them to catch on. It was uncanny how quickly they learned when the penalties were so final.

His duties as an enforcer had been limited, because his special assignments became more frequent. When the order to kill came through, Almanza took it seriously. He hadn’t failed a mission, and that made the boss happy.

Almanza had been selected for a few sensitive assignments, including the killing of a customs official, and even a consulate director, plus, a couple of times, political officials. No person was considered beyond the reach of the cartel.

He belonged to a branch of the cartel called Le Sicarii. It derived from the Latin word sicarius, a murderer. The mention of the name inspired fear, even in those who didn’t know the full meaning of the title. Almanza had done much to enhance that image.

As darkness filled the room, Almanza looked forward to what was ahead: another target, a kill to add to the list.

Omar Zapatero was the boss, or jefe to his associates. Other cartels called him Zap. When the name was spoken, it was said with awe and respect. Like a godfather in the mafia, he controlled the activities of his organization, and had held his position for as long as Almanza could recall.

Many thousands of lives had been taken under the direction of Zap. His authority wasn’t questioned. Almanza had come up through the ranks during the boss’s tenure. From small-time gang member to revered assassin, Almanza had taken orders from Zap.

The boss was the one man Almanza thought highly of, since he lacked family or any other close connections. As a child growing up in rural Mexico, he had once had a family. But when Almanza had been a young boy, his mother, father, and older sister had been wiped out in a gang war.

He hadn’t loved them, so didn’t miss them. He felt no regret over the loss. The cartel was his life, and his duty within the organization was all. Having been raised under the protection of Le Sicarii, it was the only life he’d known.

The bond he had with the organization, and even with Zap, was not about loyalty or any other weak emotion. It was solely about power. Amassing money and control was the reason Le Sicarii existed. And Almanza was under no delusion about the boss.

Zap held much power, and gaining more was his goal. Any man who crossed him or threatened his position was taken out. The same rules applied to Almanza as to any other: if he disappointed the boss, his life would be over.

But Almanza was confident that wouldn’t happen. He wouldn’t allow it.

When it was dark enough, Almanza left the house. There was no need to lock the door. The structure was in bad need of renovations. If anyone decided to break in, there was little to stop them. But he’d left a dagger on the bed as a warning.

The best the area had to offer was cheap tacos and burritos. The food was one thing Almanza missed about Mexico. But he ate what there was, skipping the beer. He had to keep his perceptions clear. Once the kill was done, he could party all he wanted to.

When Almanza returned, he inspected the house, but it appeared untouched. The dagger was on the mattress where he’d left it. He took off his shoes and lay on his back, with the dagger on his belly. Then he slept until his phone vibrated on the table.

Instantly awake, Almanza grabbed the phone. Zap was the only one who had the number. “Jefe.”

“I assume you’ve arrived?” The voice on the phone was strong, confident, and utterly emotionless.

“Si. I have been waiting for your instructions.”

“For this job, you will need to be ghostlike, but then, that’s your specialty,” Zap said.

“Is the target in the public eye?”

The boss’s voice was gravelly. “It’s a situation that needs to be remedied. It involves Senator Ortiz.”

“He hasn’t been holding up his end of the deal?”

“It’s worse. He’s let evidence that could hinder our business operations leak,” Zap said.

“So you want me to kill him?”

“No, fuck Ortiz. He will pay, when and how I decide. And if he proves to be of no further use, I’ll find another to replace him.” Zap spat the words.

“Then what are my instructions?”

Zap took some time providing background on the mission. Two federal agents had been killed and a key witness in the criminal prosecution of the senator had escaped. It was a mess that had to be cleaned up.

“Ortiz is to blame, so he can deal with the consequences,” Zap said. “I won’t take the heat for him; it interferes with business. But the FBI can be bothersome. Once we find Lela Cabelo, she will be interrogated.”

Almanza kept quiet. He didn’t need things spelled out. Interrogation meant the woman would tell all, then be put to death, and not necessarily quickly.

“There’s more.” Zap went on to say that the witness had slipped out of his grasp on more than one occasion. Judging from his tone, he was furious. “The woman has help.”

The story shed light on why Almanza had been called in. It seemed that Lela had met with a close friend, and the cops should have taken both into custody.

However, the friend had been shot and Lela had vanished. “Ashlee Vidal met with Lela, and I’m sure that she has information.”

Almanza could see that the circumstances were complicated.

“Ashlee was abducted from the hospital before I could get my hands on her.”

“Lela came for her?” Almanza said, wondering how a woman on the run had managed such a feat.

“Not alone,” Zap said. “An ex-military guy with long hair has been protecting her, but I don’t have a name. His methods indicate he’s probably a former SEAL. Also, the hospital surveillance footage shows some short-haired dude with him…tall, muscled. I’m guessing special forces. They wheeled Ashlee out of the hospital, and I have no knowledge of where she is now.”

Almanza waited for what was coming.

“Both the military dudes are dead men, do you hear me?”

“Si, jefe.” It would be trickier taking out two ex-military, but it could be done.

“Here are your orders,” Zap said. “Get the SEAL out of the way. He’s about to draw his last breath.” He paused. “Once Lela’s guardian is terminated, she will be at my mercy.”

It was a given that the SEAL’s teammate would be taken out right along with him—if the man was foolish enough to be near the action.

*****

Packing hadn’t taken long, but Rip lingered, aware that Lela needed a moment. He stood on deck beside her, cherishing the last few seconds. The sun glimmered on the water, and the calm harbor contrasted with the reality of the situation.

Rip held Lela’s hand, at a loss for words. He should mention the romantic interlude, but he couldn’t settle on what to say. He couldn’t offer her a way out of this mess. All he could do was forge ahead, keep her safe, and hope for the best.

Lela’s perfume was tantalizing. Rip squeezed her hand. She turned, her brown eyes lovely. I love you. Rip’s thought was so loud that he could have sworn she heard him. But he caught himself just in time, and didn’t voice what was in his heart.

It wouldn’t be right, because Lela would feel obligated. And even if she returned the emotion, where could that lead? Rip was the same man he’d been two days ago, the same damaged goods. He was determined not to make promises he couldn’t keep.

So what did he have to offer?

The one thing he knew for certain was that he’d protect her. But then, he’d already told her that. There was no more to say on the subject.

Lela lifted their linked hands and kissed Rip’s fingertips. She was silent, although her expression revealed that her emotions were in turmoil.

Rip shifted from one foot to the other. “You made the right decision. I don’t see how contacting the FBI would be safe. There was a leak.”

“Yes, I know,” Lela said. “That’s the only way the cartel could have known about the agents escorting me into witness protection…which seems like a lifetime ago.”

“Even the FBI isn’t immune. One of their agents had to be in the cartel’s pocket, and that’s all it took. And there’s no way for you to know who the traitor was.”

“This is the best way,” Lela said. “I have to do this on my own. And you’re the only man I can count on.”

Rip pulled Lela close and she wrapped her arms around him. He hugged her tightly, then after a minute she pulled back. “I’m ready for whatever comes.”

“I should check in, then.” Rip pulled out his phone and made the call.

“I hope this is good news,” Travis said.

“Lela is here and she’s safe right now, if that helps.”

“Why do I sense that’s about to change?” Travis said.

Rip filled him in, sharing that Lela had more evidence in the Ortiz case. “It will be risky, but I’m convinced the documents are vital.”

“It might be a breakthrough,” Travis said. “And decryption can be done. How long it takes depends on the method used to encrypt in the first place. Let’s hope the senator was sloppy, and used the easiest method available.”

“And what do you have for me?”

“Tell Lela that her mother is fine. She was grateful for the message from her daughter, and is holding up quite well, under the circumstances,” Travis said. “Also, Hunter has moved Ashlee to the safe house. She is recovering nicely, but apparently she’s a handful…wants to be back in the action.”

“That’s not too surprising,” Rip said. “Tell Hunter to use his charm. I can’t have two women under siege. It’s all I can do to keep one of them safe. It’s best if Ashlee stays put.”

“Hunter assured me that he has the situation under control.”

“Guess that’s it, then,” Rip said. “Be ready. As soon as Lela turns over the encrypted files, time will be of the essence.”

When the call ended, Lela said, “You mentioned Ashlee. What did he say?”

“She misses you.”

Lela smiled. “Okay. Let’s get this done so I can see her again.”

Rip grabbed his duffel, and Lela put the strap of her bag over her shoulder. Then they got off the boat and headed for the boardwalk.

*****

That was the thing about the tentacles of the cartel. There were spies everywhere. Almanza had put out the word, and all available resources had kept their eyes out for Lela Cabelo. The report had come back that she’d been spotted in the most unlikely place.

A couple of new gang members had jobs at Kemah, and operated rides there. One of them was pretty sure that Lela had been there with some long-haired dude. That made Almanza’s task easy. He hadn’t needed the name of the SEAL who played bodyguard for her.

All he’d had to do was find Lela, and the bodyguard came with the package. Almanza prided himself on his brilliance. It was the reason that Zap had tutored him as a youth.

Zap had a sharp mind, and he’d even read history. He saw his organization as the modern embodiment of the Sicarii, ancient fighters who had predated the Japanese ninja.

History had revealed that the Sicarii were one of the earliest organized assassination units, and the term “cloak and dagger” referred to their methods. In olden times, the secret fanatical anti-Roman group had committed numerous assassinations. A sicarious, a murderer, hid the dagger under his robe. The assassin would quietly brush by and stab the victim, then blend into the crowd to escape detection.

Zap hadn’t minded that the tale hadn’t been derived from Hispanic history. He had no allegiances. He claimed that his organization had descended from the legendary Sicarii, and no one dared to challenge him.

Almanza was partial to the theory, and thought of himself as a dagger wielder with powerful ancestors. The Sicarii had the strength to murder, just as he did. And he’d been just as secretive.

His next kill was near, and the knowledge that he would take out the SEAL with one swift move sent a rush of evil exhilaration through his body. It was the only type of thrill he craved. The anticipation was nearly as satisfying as the act…but not quite.

*****

The boardwalk was alive with activity. Rip held Lela’s hand and wove through the crowd. The themed rides were open and running, with long lines of people waiting to get on. Those already enjoying the ride yelled in reaction to the sudden shifting, spinning, or falling.

The sun was bright, but the day cool. It was a fun time for those visiting. People ate corndogs and cotton candy, laughing and smiling. Yet Rip’s mood was out of sync with the enthusiasm that surrounded him.

He had a single focus, and that was to get Lela back to Houston safely. He’d need to come up with a way to get her into her apartment without being seen, but that could be accomplished.

For now, Rip had to stay sharp. He disliked leaving the area that had been a sanctuary the last couple of days, and would have preferred to take Lela out on the boat. Out on the water, he’d be able see approaching enemies.

But that was not to be. The goal was to take control of the situation and gain leverage over Ortiz and his cartel backers. If the strategy worked, it could put an end to the threat and get Lela out of danger for good. That was worth taking a risk.

Staying put was tempting, but Rip’s experience told him that it also made Lela an easier target. There was no location that wouldn’t eventually be found out. Like it or not, it was time to move.

While weaving through the crowd, Lela squeezed Rip’s hand, so he glanced at her. Then some guy bumped into him, knocking Rip back. But before he could say anything, the man vanished.

Pain shot through Rip’s side and he grabbed the spot with his hand. Blood poured out. The knife had gone in cleanly. Rip took two steps then fell over.