Page 32 of Isla by Any Other Name

Rodriguez sneered. “I want to go in alone. You guys surround the cabin and be aware. I want to do this quietly. In and out. I’ll kill them in their beds and it’ll be over. You and your men don’t make a sound unless I say so. Do you understand?”

“Okay, understood,” said Roberto. “But no one gets out of that cabin alive. Boss’s orders. No witnesses, no case. You better be as good as they say, or we won’t live to collect.”

“My way or no way,” growled Rodriguez. “I’m in charge of this operation. Tell your buddies to do their jobs and listen to the orders I give or the five of you leave these woods in body bags. Do I make myself clear?”

“Clear,” Roberto said, his jaw tightening.

They walked through the empty forest. The silence was heavy. Each crunch of their footsteps on the dry leaves rang out in the night. Rodriguez lifted his hand about a thousand feet away from the cabin. “Stay back—I’m going in. If you hear or see anything, I want you to stand down till you hear from me and that’s an order. If I’m not out in five minutes, you come in with all you’ve got. It means I’m down. Take anyone you see out.”

Mitch stood behind the thick oak door, listening for the footsteps that would announce the end of the game. A silent, buzzing tension filled the air. The earpiece in Mitch’s ear came to life as Cal whispered, “One male. Six foot. About two-fifty. Ten feet from the front steps. Get ready. He has a knife at his side. Five men around the perimeter, thirty feet away from the cabin. We have eyes on all of them. If they make a move, we’re on them.”

Mitch could hear footsteps on the stairs out front and then saw the doorknob turn. The door opened slowly. Mitch’s heart raced in his chest. A dark form filled the doorway and before he could turn his head, Mitch was on him. They flailed across the room. Leah flicked on the lights and pointed her firearm at the suspect.

“Drop the knife,” Leah ordered with a wicked smile. The knife clattered, and Mitch threw the man on the floor. With a knee on the man’s back, he secured handcuffs and rolled him over.

“José Rodriguez, nice to meet you,” Mitch said with a smirk. The man’s face was instantly recognizable from his photographs. The man sneered at him.

And then all hell broke loose outside.

Multiple shots exploded through the night. Seconds seemed like minutes. Soon, the night was full of loud voices.

Was his team all right? He wanted to go out there to help them, but he had to stay with Rodriguez. He knew from reports how cunning the man could be. They just needed to follow the plan. But what if his plan got them all killed?

Mitch focused on Rodriguez, who started to struggle.

Gunfire. Then silence.

Finally, Mitch heard a crackle over his earpiece. “All clear! Sheriff’s on the way to pick up the trash. One suspect down. The other four are in custody.”

Mitch answered back, “Suspect has been detained. All clear inside.”

Mitch walked outside. Five men lay on the ground in front of the porch, all hog-tied, including the one bleeding all over the ground. “Only casualty?” Mitch asked.

“He thought he was a better shot than me,” Cal said with a smirk. “I was faster.”

A siren wailed down the country road toward them. Blue and red lights flashed. Five law enforcement cars careened into the yard. The sheriff stepped out of one. “Mitch, would have been nice for a heads up.”

“Sorry, Sheriff Walton, we’ve been on a black op or I would have.”

“What do we have here?”

“Hired hit man in the cabin. These five goons are henchmen for a Columbian drug lord. They work for Marcus Hernandez. They have a hit out on my lead witness, whose testimony put him away. They want my witness gone. Sheriff, we need a bus for a gunshot wound. Would it be possible to use your facilities to question these assholes?”

“It’s all yours. Always happy to help out the Bureau.”

“Thanks, Sheriff.”

Then Mitch let out his first true exhale in a long, long time.

Isla hadn’t sat down in hours. She’d paced the length of her room, then the upstairs, then—given the all clear—paced the kitchen. How could she go on like this? Loving a man who regularly had to risk his life for her? It was torture, and all she had to do was wait.

Five hours later, Mitch walked into the kitchen at the compound, looking weary. Isla felt her eyes fill and her heart nearly explode in her chest. “Well?”

Mitch gave her that lazy grin. “Mission accomplished. No injuries, except for one of Hernandez’s henchmen. Just a flesh wound. All is well on the home front.” Mitch looked around to make sure no one was there—they were all still outside, talking about what had happened. He walked around the island and met Isla halfway. She threw herself into his arms.

“Does this mean it’s all over?” she asked, as she looked into his face.

Mitch pulled back. “Molly, it won’t be over until the trial is over. And even then—we have to be on our guard.”