Breaking Loose by Tara Janzen

Author:Tara Janzen
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9780440338642
Published: 2009-03-26T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Outskirts of Ciudad del Este

From where he was working out of the back of the Jeep he and Zach had rented, checking his gear, Creed heard footsteps and looked up. The boss was heading his way.

Yeah, they needed to talk.

They’d loaded the Jeep and the vehicle Dylan and Hawkins had been using for the last six months, getting ready for their morning recon on Costa del Rey, or maybe it would turn out to be a raid, or a snatch and grab.

It wasn’t going to be an assassination. He knew that damn much.

The photograph in the folder had shown a man who looked like J.T., with J.T.’s face, but just a little skewed, not quite right. The basic body build had been J.T.’s, but J.T.’s on steroids. The guy in the photo was big, over six feet and two hundred pounds of ripped muscle and raw power.

The CIA wanted an assassination, and Dylan and Hawkins had decided to go another way, and that was the kind of independent thinking that got them in trouble and, more often than not, got the job done.

Creed would have made the same decision. No way in hell could he pull a trigger on that face—not without knowing one of two things: that it wasn’t J.T., or that J.T. had turned, and the only way to figure either of those out was to talk to the guy. No one at SDF was going to take the CIA’s word for who the man was, not on a bet, especially not Creed, who would have sworn on his grandmother’s grave that J.T. had died in the Colombian jungle.

But that face…that face was almost enough to make him doubt what he’d seen—almost, but not quite.

Dylan stopped next to the vehicle and pulled a cigar out of his pocket.

“You could have told me,” Creed said, loosening the straps on his rucksack.

Dylan lit the cigar and got it going before handing it over.

“Command decision” was all he said.

“Bullshit.” Creed took a long draw on the cigar, letting the smoke fill his mouth. Dylan always had the best cigars.

“Throwing that information, and that photograph, down in front of the whole team would have started a riot, and you know it. I still haven’t figured out how to tell Kid.”

“Bull,” he said again, then blew out a cloud of smoke. “You give the ‘telling Kid’ part to Superman.” That’s what any of them would have done.

“Yeah,” the boss said, wiping his hand over his face, sounding as weary and worn out as the dump they were using for mission headquarters looked. “But we need better facts than we’ve got.”

“I figure that’s why you brought me and Zach down here, boss.” He pulled five empty pistol magazines out of one of the pockets on his ruck and started loading them. “Fact. Finding. Mission.”

“The CIA has those four dead agents on this thing already, and that’s if they’re telling us the truth.”

“Which they probably aren’t.” And that was a fact he would take to the bank.

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