Savage Love (Savage Trilogy #3) - Lisa Renee Jones Page 0,20

you before now, the CIA tried to kill Aaron and his wife, who wasn’t his wife at the time. After framing him for treason. Believe me. Aaron is lethal in all the right ways.” His attention shifts back to me. “If anyone will understand your hate for Gabriel, it’s him.”

“What did he do for the CIA?” I ask.

“He killed people,” Smith says. “And he did it without bad jokes.”

“Well, then I already hate Aaron,” I declare. “Everyone should hear a bad joke before they die.” I reach for my coffee. “You know what happens when a spook chases a spook?” I don’t wait for a reply. “Nothing. They’re both too busy ironing their suits and looking in the mirror to find each other.”

My cellphone rings and I set down my cup and snake it from my pocket to find the call I’ve been waiting on: Kane Mendez. Another man who spends a little too much time spiffing up his fancy suits, but he balances that with just the right amount of blood on his hands, perhaps even more than me. And I’m about to make him our man. I answer the call, “Can you talk?” he asks in his lightly accented voice.

“Give me five minutes.”

“I’ll call back.”

He hangs up and I kiss Candace. “I need to take this.” Without giving her and the Walker team time to ask questions, I stand up. Kane and I have a history and this call needs to be handled in private.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Savage

The Past…

My target: Juan Carlos Miguel.

Member of the Mendez Cartel and a rogue asshole running a sex shop with kidnapped women and girls for sex, really young girls.

My mission: Kill him.

Sometimes I love my fucking job.

On this particular weekend, he’s staying at a fancy South Hampton mansion owned by billionaire oil mogul Kane Mendez. The oil empire is legit, and Mendez swears his uncle took over the cartel when Kane’s father was murdered. My ass. If that were true why the hell is Juan Carlos staying at his property? Whatever the case, none of the Mendez lot are smart. The security system at the rental is outdated, easily dismantled, and Juan Carlos has one single pathetic guard with him. Me against two. I’ll take those odds.

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