Seal of Honor(63)
“However,” he continued, “I have a rather tenuous relationship with the EPC’s generals. If I send men in after Bryson, and the EPC is involved, the damage to that relationship could be irreparable, thus making me lose more money.”
Gabe’s eyes narrowed. “If you’re so worried about your relationship with the EPC, why send Liam and his men in to destroy Cocodrilo’s camp?”
“I did no such thing.”
“Hm. So where exactly do you think he found us?”
Mena stared at Gabe for a long moment, then turned that lethal gaze to Liam, a vein bugling in his temple. “Is this true? Did you attack Cocodrilo against my specific orders to leave him alone?”
“I did what I had to do,” Liam said. “He killed four of my men in that shootout on the highway, including Estaban’s baby brother. He was not going to get away with that.”
Mena pinched the bridge of his nose and waved a hand as if shooing off a pestering fly. “Get out of my sight. We’ll discuss this insubordination later.”
“Sir—”
“Leave,” Mena said and pulled a gun from under his suit coat. He pointed it directly between Liam’s eyes. “Or die. Your choice, Señor Miller. I do not care either way.”
Liam backed up a step. Then another. After shooting a hate-filled look at Gabe, he disappeared into the house.
“Imbecile.” Mena replaced his gun and returned to the conversation as if he hadn’t just threatened a man’s life. “As I said, my ties with the EPC are tenuous—even more so now—and to keep them from attacking my business, I need to stay on their good side. I’m not convinced they are involved, because this scheme is a little too advanced for them. They are uncouth, uneducated brutes. Still, I did not want to take the chance of sending my own men in to find Bryson.”
He sent Gabe a sly smile. “But, you, Commander. I have no qualms about sending you. In fact, if the EPC kills you in the process, they will have removed a massive thorn from my side. It will effectively kill two birds with one stone, as you Americans like to say.”
Gabe straightened away from the table. “Sorry to disappoint, but that’s not happening.”
“All’s the pity.”
“And until you give me one good reason why you think Bryson is held there, I’m not sending my men within ten blocks of that neighborhood.”
“So cautious. An admirable quality in a mercenary.” He returned to his seat, picked up his wine, and studied Gabe over the rim. “Truthfully, you put Señor Miller to shame; have made me see his unreliability. His job will be opening up very soon. I don’t suppose you would be interested…”
“No.” The finality in Gabe’s voice left no room for argument and Mena laughed.
“No, I didn’t think so. All right.” Finishing his wine, he stood again and motioned them to follow him through the veranda doors into the library. He crossed to a huge, glossy desk and opened a drawer, drew out a file.
“This contains everything I know about Bryson’s abduction, from my own research and from keeping tabs on your team, Commander—and I might add your second-in-command, the invariable Travis Quinn, has been struggling to hold them together in your absence.”
Gabe’s face gave away nothing, no flicker of surprise or another emotion, but Audrey felt him tighten up at her side. Much like he’d done for her earlier, she reached down and grasped his hand in reassurance. He gave hers a small squeeze in return, but then let go and crossed his arms over his chest.
“Get on with it,” Gabe said, ice in his voice. “Stop yanking my dick and tell us what you know.”
“Ah-ha. I do love your frankness,” Mena laughed. “On with it, then. I know your team, such as it is, is searching for a man named Jacinto Rivera. I know they found nothing at his last known address, and have no idea where else to look. I also know where to find him.” He tossed the file on his desk and it skated across the polished wood.
Gabe caught it before it slid off the edge. “Where?”
“Patience. First, you need to know something about Jacinto Rivera. He is the younger, even less cultured brother of Angel Rivera, the EPC general of the Andean region, and their family tree reads like a horror story of depravity. Their father was a drunk that got himself killed in a bar fight ten years ago. Their mother was a whore murdered by a client a year after that, and their sister, also a whore, disappeared six years ago. God only knows what became of her.
“Their uncle was a disgusting rapist interested in small boys, and his son, Rorro, finally took revenge for all of Papa’s late night visits last year. Rorro’s fifteen and he sliced his father up, the likes of which I haven’t seen since La Violencia. He’s a mean little brat, not to be underestimated, and he’s attached to his cousin’s hip. Wherever Jacinto goes, Rorro’s not far behind.”