Retribution Road by Jon Coon (best books to read for women txt) 📗

“When have I ever been safe? You’re going to need me here more than ever. Who knows what he’ll do next.”

“That’s my point, Maria. If he suspects for one minute . . .”

“He doesn’t and he’s not going to.”

“Maria, please. I love you. Please come home with me.”

“That’s not our life, Tom. We’ve talked about this. Afternoon tea in the front porch rockers and spoiling your grandchildren is not what I signed up for. Now let me go.”

“Hardheaded chica,” he swore under his breath. “All right. When will I hear from you again?”

“Not until there’s something to tell. Be careful.”

“Yeah, right.”

Chapter 23

USING THE INTEL HE’D GOTTEN from Jose, the only surviving prisoner, Tom sent six of his men to rescue the Benson girls. Their Ghost Hawk helicopter, the military’s top-secret, stealth delivery vehicle, a newer version of the stealth-modified Black Hawks used in the Bin Laden raid, set down in a field a mile from the house, landing in darkness, no lights and in whisper mode. A senator on the military appropriations committee was a good friend to have when you needed military support, especially if the mission was to rescue members of his family.

The team quickly deployed and moved through fallow fields to the electric fence surrounding the house. After attaching jumper wires to avoid breaking the connection and setting off alarms, the wires were cut, and the men entered the massive yard.

The house was four story and large. Under the cloudy night sky, it gave the outline of a medieval fortress, with a walkway around the upper floor. A vigilant guard with a night scope would have a real advantage from that height. But no guards were visible. It was the dogs who heard them and set off the alarms. Air puffs from tranq guns stopped the barking immediately, but not before several lights came on in the house. The team dissolved into the shadows. Two guns looked down from behind the half-wall of the upper floor, and a door opened at ground level. Two stepped out carrying what looked like AK-47s.

Lights from the upper level flooded the yard. No one moved.

“Where are the dogs?” one asked the other. Then he shouted to the men on the wall, “Do you see the dogs?”

There was no answer. Both had fallen to silenced sniper fire. Still, no one moved.

More shouting. Two more came through the door with guns and lights. There was movement behind the upper wall. A head was visible over the wall. The sniper rifle made hardly a whisper, and the body twisted and dropped. The four in the yard spread out as if to search. They went down, not having seen a single movement or fired a single shot. Still no one moved. More silenced rounds took out the yard lights, and the night was dark and deathly quiet. Not a sound from the house. Not a whisper in the yard.

The lower double doors opened again, and the Benson girls stood alone in a well-lit foyer.

“Show yourselves or they are dead,” a heavily accented voice shouted. “You have ten seconds.”

“This is the PFM. You are under arrest. Throw down your weapons and come out with your hands up. Do it now or we level this building with you in it,” the rescue team leader replied in perfect Spanish. “Send them out and we may let you live.”

The lights in the house went suddenly out. The sound of a backup generator chugging to life broke the silence, hit its stride, and the lights came back on. The girls were no longer in the doorway. Rangers suddenly appeared from the shadows and black-bagged the guard before he could get off a single shot. The girls ran to the waiting arms of the Rangers.

“This is your lucky day, amigo,” the Ranger holding the gun to the guard’s head said. “We want you to take this message to your boss. The PFM calls the shots from here on out. You’re the rats and we’re the exterminators. Tell El Patrón we’re coming for him. The war has started.”

With that, he struck the hooded man with the butt of his full-auto .308 CZ and dragged the unconscious body to the gate and zip-tied him to the wrought iron.

Sgt. Ferrell looked at the terrified girls, smiled, and asked, “Anyone want to go home in a helicopter?” Terror turned to tears as the team led the girls away from the villa. As they cleared the gate at the end of the quarter-mile drive, a deep rumble shook the ground. Behind them, flashes of bright orange flame ripped into the sky and the villa was reduced to rubble.

“I told them to throw down and come out,” the sergeant said. “They didn’t.”

Tom sat next to the drone pilot, who was holding the remote control for the Bonanza, and listened for the call from the cartel that would give final landing instructions. When the cell phone rang, however, it wasn’t the call he expected. Tom turned on a recording of plane engine noise and picked up the phone and put it on speaker.

“What’s going on?” Tom asked.

“Let me talk to Jose.”

Jose was tied in the chair, and Tom sat down beside him. Tom held the phone to Jose’s face and held a warning finger up and waited. Jose nodded and then answered, “Si, patrón.”

“We are under attack by the PFM. They blew up the villa at the lake and took the senator’s daughters. I don’t know if any of our guys got out.”

“Si, patrón. What shall we do?”

“Land at the grass strip near Coba. Unload the plane and then burn it. Get rid of everything. Comprende? I’ll have a truck waiting for you.”

“Si, patrón.”

“Put el capitán back on.” Sarcasm oozed.

“Change of plans, amigo. One of my properties has been raided by the PFM and the senator’s daughters taken. I don’t suppose you know anything about that? Until I can sort it out, I don’t want to risk your plane and my cargo.”

“The who?”

“The