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the Coastguard knowing about it. If it’s urgent enough, we might even get the Navy to come down and handle it.”

George nodded along excitedly with Phelps’ every word. He politely thanked him and hung up the phone. His hands trembled as he lowered his cell phone back onto the desk.

“We’re saved,” George declared.

“You’re still forgetting about the governor.”

George’s face dropped.

“But you could have Phelps and his friends send him into early retirement. Perhaps a breaking scandal would make sure that happens. You move first and none of Newton’s allegations about your dealings with Romero will be taken seriously. The public will just see it as him trying to save his own ass.”

George’s face lit up again. “I’ll make the call now. Tell you what, Jack, how about a drink? I think it’s time to get my special whisky out of the cupboard.”

“Yes, George.” Jack clicked off his recorder.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Yuriria, Guanajuato, Mexico

 

Jessi Montoya bore none of the dishevelment of a captive. She looked enchanting. Dressed in a pair of black skinny jeans and a band t-shirt, James could see why Jessi had become an object of Quezada’s desire beyond his awful business reasons.

Jessi ran forward and seized James around the neck. She kept repeating the word ‘gracias’ over and over into his ear. James didn’t know what to do with her warm body up against his. He gently detached himself from her.

“Jessi Montoya?” asked James.

“Yes. Are you the gringo?”

James’ jaw tightened. “How do you know a gringo was going to come and save you?”

“Quezada always talked about the gringo. He was angry the last time he came here. He said the gringo killed one of his men.”

James smirked. Good, now he knew he had Quezada’s full attention. He knew how the minds of his targets worked. He’d put the fear of God in Quezada. Scared men made mistakes.

“That was you too?”

“It was. A man called Vargas is dead. He committed many of the massacres in Celaya.”

Jessi flashed a gleaming smile. James wondered when she’d last looked at ease. Weeks, he was sure. The light sprang back into her eyes. James thought he could see stars within those brown eyes, like the colour of parched summer soil.

“We need to go, Jessi,” said James.

“No.”

James’ mouth dropped open. “No? What do you mean no?”

“Now’s not the right time to go.”

“What are you talking about? I have a car. We can get you back to your brother in a couple of hours. Surely you want to go home.”

Jessi sat down on her bed. “I don’t want to go back to him.”

He stood frozen to the spot. He’d made a deal with Montoya in exchange for his help. James had to keep his word or Montoya would want blood.

“Look, Jessi, I know it might be hard, but you’ve been here for so long that you’re scared of leaving. I’ve worked with hostages before and I know how they think. Trust me, this will be for the best.”

“No. I won’t go.”

He gulped. The idea of dragging Jessi out of the hacienda by the hair rankled him. But he would if it would help him complete his mission.

Jessi shifted across the bed. “Please, sit.” She patted the space next to her.

His training allowed him to decipher the behaviours of his opponents, but Jessi eluded him. What was she playing at? Why wouldn’t she take the chance to escape from Quezada when he’d delivered it on a silver platter?

James approached and lowered himself onto the bed.

“Why don’t you stay here?”

James screwed his face up. Had she gone crazy?

“Wait for him. Wait for Quezada to come. He will sooner or later. He’s still trying to get me to marry him.”

“No, I would be a sitting duck here. I’m only one man. I can’t take on an army.”

“He won’t bring an army. When he comes here, he brings four men, and one of them is his driver. Nobody lives here except me and his aunt. She’s a crow. Weak. She can barely make it upstairs to bring food.”

James chewed over the idea of waiting in the hacienda for Quezada. If he came relatively unprotected, he knew he could take down four men. He doubted if any of them had any serious military training. But it was a risk. Quezada may never come now he’d thrown his cartel into disarray. And if he did come, he may well bring an army.

“You know, he is a strange man. Alberto tries to be tender, but I can see right through him. He knows I can see into his soul. No matter how many times he tries to come and change who he is, I see through him.”

James grunted. He wasn’t interested in who Quezada was as a man. His only orders were to kill him.

“He’s not the man you know.”

James turned to her. “What?”

“You won’t recognise him. Any photo you have won’t show who he is. He had plastic surgery less than a year ago. Until he told me who he was, I didn’t see him as the man in the news.”

James nodded. That made things more difficult. Drug lords had a habit of keeping a selection of private doctors on hand to perform surgery and other alterations to keep them one step ahead of the police.

“How long do you think it will take him to arrive?”

Jessi shrugged. “It could be a long time. It could be a short time. He doesn’t make appointments.” She paused. “What are you going to do?”

James stood and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He put it to his ear and waited for the tone.

“What’s wrong, Winchester?” Blake answered.

“I’m in the hacienda. They didn’t have any guards. Just Jessi and the aunt.”

“Then bring Montoya

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