Blog Tour, Excerpt & Giveaway:
Resolution
By Patricia Logan
Trackers, Book 3
Raven and Miguel are still on a tough recovery case involving a rare pigeon’s blood ruby worth millions of dollars. There’s a very real threat hanging over their heads, and they’re stuck with a client they don’t exactly trust, her attorney whom they suspect is involved in the whole mess, and a man claiming to be a “friend” of the widow who looks more like an extra from a mobster movie.
They’ve had more action in the first few days than they ever wanted to. Opening a new recovery business shouldn’t be this dangerous, but then again, unexpected rogue CIA operatives trying to murder them wasn’t on the cards either. Unfortunately, only three have been caught, leaving at least one more out there, desperate to get his hands on a stolen shipment of gems.
When a moldering body turns up with Raven and Miguel’s names in his pocket, things really start heating up and the bullets start to fly. Making things even more complicated— every single government alphabet agency is getting in each other’s way, and trust is in short supply. Right when it seems there’s no way out, old friends inadvertently give them a clue how to get out of all this mess with their hides intact.
From the mean streets of Los Angeles to the tropical paradise of Grand Cayman, join Raven and Miguel in the exciting conclusion of the Trackers series.
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“Hold up, Mac,” I said, grabbing his massive bicep. He stopped in his tracks. “You’ve got explosives training. Make sure you check the door for boobytraps.”
Mac flashed me a wicked grin. “I’m way ahead of you, Miguel. Thanks.”
I dropped my hand and let him take the lead, right behind Sorensen while I followed as Lincoln brought up the rear. “Someone told me you were cyber before becoming Mac’s partner, Lincoln.”
He laughed quietly. “Why on earth are you bringing that up now, Miguel?”
“I just thought about it.”
“Funny time, but okay, yeah, I used to be cyber. What’s your point?”
“Nothing.” I grinned. “Just wondered if shit like this is why you left desk work.”
“Of course, it is, Miguel, because it’s much more fun taking down the bad guys with a gun than a mouse.”
I chuckled to myself as we descended the stairs one at a time. At the bottom, the room opened to a wide landing made of inlaid bricks. In front of us was a brick archway with a fancy, carved door of sturdy oak and an iron latch. Behind it, I was certain we’d find the hostages. The tac team had been all through the rest of the property. We stood aside as the agent with the thermal imaging camera walked over. He held it up, scanning the door silently. We huddled around the small screen to get a peek at who was behind the door.
One person lay on the floor. The glow coming from the figure was dim, meaning the person was either very cold…or worse yet, dying as heat leached out of their body. Three others were seated beside the person on the floor, glowing slightly brighter. Two figures paced, one near what had to be the hostages, and another near the door, only a few feet from where we were standing. He was probably listening at the door because he knew we were coming. Unless he’d somehow been tipped off and gotten away, I could only assume Castillo was inside with the hostages. He no doubt had one of his men in there with them. Sorensen nodded at the agent and then motioned for us to walk several paces away, just around a bend in the wall, so we could have a conversation without being overheard.
“Castillo and one of his men have to be inside and it’s obvious to me that at least one of the hostages may already be dead,” Sorensen said, keeping his voice low.
I nodded, as did the others. “Chances are, Castillo is gonna kill the hostages if we breach,” I said.
“Do you see any other way of this playing out?” Lincoln remarked. “They’re going to die anyway. We don’t have a choice.”
Mac bent and pulled out a coil of det cord, handing it to Lincoln before extracting a tiny block of C-4 and a separate detonator. “I can use the det cord to blow the door, but it might not give us the surprise we want, as quick as we want. The C-4 would do the job, probably take out the sicario by the door, but with the blast, we stand the chance that it might kill or gravely wound the hostages.”
Surprisingly, Sorensen smiled. “I’ve got something better.” He bent down and pulled out two silver, cylindrical objects. They were about six by three inches and flat on one side. He handed them to Mac who was grinning as Sorensen reached into another pocket and pulled out a third.
“Mini breacher’s boots, nice,” the big man exclaimed. “I didn’t think to ask if you had access to them.”
Sorensen nodded. “Standard tactical issue. They’re packed with just enough explosive to get through a thick, wooden door and hopefully preserve life on the other side of it.”
“It’ll knock out the sicario by the door but then we’ll need to make rapid entry to take out Castillo, if he’s in there,” Lincoln added, “though, it’d be better if we can take him alive.”
“That’s what these are for,” I said, pulling out the flash bangs I had in my cargos.
“Good,” Lincoln said. “Mac, check the door for a boobytrap while Sorensen sets the breacher’s boots.”
Sorensen and Mac nodded, stepping around the wall to the door. We watched from our position with the other team members who’d come down behind us, while Mac checked for boobytraps. Sorensen peeled sticky tape off the back of the breacher’s boots, setting them on the doors. One nearest the latch and two others at the hinges, top and bottom. Once everything was in place and Mac had assured us that there’d be no secondary explosion triggered when they breached, Sorensen waved us all back into place behind the wall. Mac handed me a flash bang grenade, and I readied myself for something I hadn’t done in almost twelve years.
“You do the honors, Miguel,” he said.
I nodded, confident in my role. Sorensen held up a hand and counted down on five fingers before pressing the detonator. The door blew outward and we ducked back behind the wall only long enough to avoid being struck by the splintering wood before Mac and I rushed forward, throwing the flashbangs into the room. I held my rifle at the ready and followed Sorensen into the room with Mac and Lincoln at my side. The sicario nearest the door was down but still moving, covered in debris, face obscured by blood. Sorensen didn’t stop to ask questions before putting a bullet in the middle of the man’s forehead.
