Killpath. Don Pendleton

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       4

      Rojas and Cooper were sitting in business class together, bound for Cali. The only things in their luggage were the standard clothing and toiletries, and they each had a smartphone in a hard case. Lack of guns, even a hidden boot knife, made Rojas feel very bare, like a raw, exposed nerve ready to be plucked. Cooper didn’t seem as anxious; he simply sat back, studying files on the phone.

      Within a day of meeting Cooper and Brognola, Rojas had gotten rid of the accursed sling. Sure, she was chewing ibuprofen tablets as if they were breath mints, but she’d regained full range of motion a day after that, and the kick of an Uzi’s steel folding stock against her shoulder while on full auto was now completely tolerable.

      During their training sessions, Cooper had watched over her, his gaze wary but not hostile. That didn’t mean he had many smiles for her. Whoever this guy was, he wasn’t here to make friends.

      The truth hung over the two of them. Rojas had never been a gentle soul, and while she was still enraged at the deaths of her sons, she’d killed their fathers, killed rivals, killed the wives and children of others who dared oppose her as she ran New York City. Cooper had lowballed the number of dead to her name that day in the office, whether by ignorance or by choice.

      Even so, he was obviously aware of her past as a ruthless killer. Not that he seemed afraid of her. He was cautious, alert, but Rojas had the impression that one ounce of antagonism toward him would end with her neck snapped.

      In the days that had followed their initial meeting, Cooper had re-familiarized her with shooting skills, but he had also taught her the hand signals they would need to work side by side in the field. If he intended to take her life, he would not be such a completist when it came to going into action.

      He had made no bones about their plan.

      Hilde Rojas was to be the bait. Once she appeared on the scene in Colombia, the SNC would pick up her scent and come after her.

      Los Soldados were from a different group than her, another faction of the splintered Colombian drug scene. The old Cali and Medellin cartels were not friends, and much blood had been spilled at the height of their rivalry. When their boss died in a hail of gunfire from a military and police strike, Medellin collapsed into its own mayhem. Nobody there would consider Rojas anything more than a relic of the past.

      That she was out of jail after serving only seven of her twenty years would surprise those bosses in Medellin struggling to build a new power base, but she wouldn’t draw their attention.

      Only the SNC would be interested in La Brujah.

      “You also have barely touched your drink,” Rojas commented, too restless now to stay silent. “I’ve got you figured out, you know. You’re a professional, and you believe in being in control.”

      “In control of my thoughts and body,” Cooper replied. “I prefer to be aware and at the top of my game. True control of events around you is an illusion.”

      Rojas thought of her own downfall. For over a decade, she’d smashed all opposition or dissent to her rule with ruthless efficiency. Back then, she’d thought she’d been in total control. The truth was that, eventually, her own people turned against her, flipping on her before she could flip on them. Her wildest caballeros had realized that she’d orchestrated so many deaths for the smallest slights or offenses that they themselves could become her next targets.

      That was how the DEA had caught her. Someone in her ranks had snitched, but not wanting to implicate themselves in any killings, they’d fed the DEA information about her drug stashes.

      Two years of pretrial maneuverings and her conviction meant that she’d missed out on seven of her youngest son’s twelve years. Her last living son, and she hadn’t been present for more than half of his life.

      All because she thought she had more control than she truly did.

      “You all right?” Cooper asked.

      Rojas nodded. “Why shouldn’t I be?”

      “You wandered off for a moment.”

      “Si,” Rojas returned. “I’m fine.”

      Cooper frowned. “Just don’t let your attention wander when we get to Colombia.”

      Rojas narrowed her eyes. “I was holding my own, naked and unarmed, against three bruiser girls just before you met me. I don’t let my mind wander. I won’t let my mind wander.”

      “You’re no good to me dead, so keep on your toes,” СКАЧАТЬ