"If you say so."
A moment later, she returned and he took a long swig. "I like your house."
"Thanks." He looked at the nightstand clock, 1:57 a.m. "How much do you remember?"
"I remember Glen charging down the stairs and tackling the gunman." Her expression changed. "He's dead, isn't he?" She turned away and wiped a tear.
"Yeah, he's gone. I'm so sorry. You told me what happened before you lost consciousness." He gave her a short recap.
"When I got tased, I remembered feeling so helpless and angry. I was worried they were going to render Glen."
"I didn't kill the guy who injected you."
"And you're telling me this because . . . Wait, I asked you to kill him?"
He nodded. "You were pretty woozy."
"I always thought it would be me, not Glen. You know what's amazing? He was worried about our dogs. He told me to get them out of the house."
"I'm really sorry, Linda. After Caracas, I'd only talked with Glen once, at your wedding. I liked him."
"He didn't have a mean bone in his body. When we saw a stray dog, he'd stop to help it, every time, even in the rain. He funded a massive endowment at Hillsdale College under its Frederick Douglass scholarship program. The interest from the endowment pays the tuition for twenty underprivileged kids every year." She wiped more tears.
He knew what she needed and keyed his radio. "Harv, you copy?"
"I'm outside. What's up?"
"I'm awake and Linda's up and around. Did you get her dogs from Cantrell's people?"
"Half an hour ago. Cantrell's people had to carry them down the bluff's stairs. Want me to bring them in?"
"Please."
"Be right there."
"Fontana's outside with Morgen and Elsa?"
"Harv thought you'd want to be with them when you woke up."
"When I knew you were coming, I thought about your dogs."
Nathan smiled. "Some might say they're more memorable than me."
Linda didn't return the emotion. He couldn't imagine what she felt.
"Linda, if you need some time . . . We don't have to talk about any of this right now."
She didn't say anything for a few seconds.
"I'm going after them," she said softly. "Please don't try to stop me."
"Just the opposite."
"I can't ask you guys to do that."
"You aren't asking, and the decision's already been made. You're coming with us."
"Cantrell?"
"Surveillance and reconnaissance. No boots but ours."
"I can live with that."
"It's not ideal, but it's all we get. How's your head. You got stuck with Ketamine."
"The K hole," she said slowly.
Just then, Harv entered the room with four large dogs in tow.
Linda got down on one knee and wrapped her German shepherds up in a hug.
Her body shuddered. Their tails wagged.
Watching the action, Grant and Sherman stood near Nathan's side, awaiting orders. Their intelligent gaze almost had him believing they understood the situation. In reality, they were probably thinking about their next meal, wondering if they'd have to share it with the newcomers.
"It's good to see you guys," Linda said through tears. She buried her face between them. "They're rescues," she said. "Ironic, isn't it?"
Nathan didn't say anything.
"We rescue Glen and then he ends up rescuing me." She wiped her face with both hands.
"Full circle," he said. "Your dogs are beautiful."
"We're volunteers for the German Shepherd Rescue of Orange County. We've had as many as six. Right now, we only have Morgen and Elsa. They're permanent. We adopted them a few years back."
"I like their tags," Harv said. "They remind me of the big cross on Mount Soledad."
"Glen had them custom-made a long time ago. The veterans' memorial up there was one of his favorite spots."
Nathan was impressed-he'd never seen such a thing. Each of her shepherds wore a thick, white cross dangling from its collar. They measured about two inches long by one inch across.
"Thanks again, you guys. For everything. If you hadn't shown up, I would've ended up in an interrogator's chair, or worse."
"You're welcome, but you did most of the work before we arrived. Do you have any idea what it's about?"
"No, but it has to be related to one of my old ops. What else could it be?" Linda paused, her eyes clouding. "Wait, I'm remembering something. It was just before the guy injected me. What was it he said? Shit, I can't remember, but it made my skin crawl."
Nathan waited, not wanting to break her concentration. It was best to let her work the memory forward. He watched her expression change.
"Little Peach," she said softly.
He exchanged a glance with Harv, but neither of them said anything.
"It's what Tomas Bustamonte liked to call me."
CHAPTER 13.
Linda knew there were times when the truth shouldn't be withheld, this being one of them. She trusted these men with her life. They'd never judge her. They had, after all, shared their somewhat questionable evening in a Shanghai brothel. Somewhat? What they'd described could only be considered scandalous. They'd been young, horny Marines. What more needed to be said?
They'd moved to the kitchen, where McBride's housekeeper had brewed a pot of coffee while they awaited the go signal from Cantrell.
McBride asked, "Were you and Tomas-"
"Yes," she said quickly. "I'd gone undercover to get close to the Bustamontes in hopes of finding Glen. You guys knew that much."
McBride and Fontana nodded.
"Well . . . getting inside is never easy. Sometimes it requires . . . compromises. In this case, it meant earning Tomas Bustamonte's trust. Which meant . . ."
"We get it," said Fontana.
"It happened more than once. It had to. Before we rescued Glen. I never told him."
"No one's judging you, LG."
"Tomas's sister was furious when she found out he was sleeping with me. I heard them arguing the following morning. I got dressed and raced out of there. He tried to start it up again a few days later, but I told him in no uncertain terms it wasn't happening. He wasn't heartbroken, but he wasn't happy either. Ursula, though . . ." Linda shook her head at the bitter memory. "She confronted me about it, started a fistfight."
"Who won?" Fontana asked.
"Who do you think? And it felt great kicking her scrawny ass."
"Why do I get the feeling there's more to the story?" McBride asked.
"A few days later, she sucker punched me. I would've put her in a hospital, but Tomas stepped in."
"Lucky for her," Fontana said.
"Very. She had no accountability. None. She did whatever she wanted and never faced the consequences. I wanted to beat the living crap out of her to show her otherwise. She and her brother were responsible for untold kidnappings, human trafficking, torture, murder-you name it. If I learned one thing getting inside their organization, it was that Ursula was far more vicious than Tomas. The woman has no conscience. The amount of suffering those two have caused can't be easily quantified."
"I don't doubt it," McBride said. "We want them as badly as you do. But the question remains: why come after you now?"
"Does Cantrell have a working theory?"
"She thinks it's related to the special election in Venezuela."
"I'm familiar with it. Corn Hole's favored to win by a large margin."
"Corn Hole?" McBride asked.
"It's what the twins called him behind his back. Venezuela's favorite son-former attorney general, father of three, loving husband, wealthy industrialist, and closet crime boss. That guy scares me, no easy trick. Does Cantrell think the twins are working for him again?"
"Yes. Several of the dead gunmen at your house have been positively linked to them. And there have been other recent attacks and abductions in Latin America."
"Tomas and Ursula hated Cornejo. It got so bad that they talked about killing the guy. Why would they dive into that relationship again?"
"Simple," McBride said.
"Money," she said softly. "Cornejo offered them a contract they couldn't turn down . . . Cantrell's right. The hit on me's somehow related to the election."
"Is there any reason Cornejo might consider you a loose end?"
"No. We were never able to prove Cornejo was behind Glen's kidnapping. After we rescued Glen, the twins disappeared and the state department closed the case."
"No other outcome was possible," Fontana said. "Our rescue mission was never sanctioned by the Venezuelan government. As far as the US is concerned, it never took place."
She nodded. "Why attack me at my home? They could've grabbed me anywhere."
"The easiest answer is they wanted it done covertly. I'm assuming Glen worked out of your house?"
She nodded. "The kidnapping turned him into a recluse. He rarely left."
"I can't blame him. Your disappearance might've gone unnoticed for days, maybe longer."
No one spoke for a few seconds.
"I wish we'd killed the twins when we had the chance," she said.
Judging by his expression, Fontana agreed with her. "All we were authorized to do was rescue Glen. If they got killed during the process, no one would've questioned it, but taking them out wasn't our primary mission."
"It should've been," she said.
"Hindsight is always like that," said McBride. "We did as we were told. Once we had Glen, we got out of there in a hurry."
"A big hurry," Fontana added. "You took one through your vest. It's amazing you lived."
"I remember our Seahawk ride out to that Navy destroyer," she said. "Fontana never left your side."
"He's like that," McBride added. "My wound wasn't life threatening."
"The hell it wasn't," she said. "You were minutes from dying when we landed. You'd lost a lot of blood."
"I've got a lot to spare."