The Echo of Violence by Jordan Dane Read Free Book Online Page A

contact. I need results. Call in some markers if you have to.”
    An AK-47 punctuated the urgency of his call. Kinkaid ducked for cover.
    “Do I hear gunfire?”
    “Yeah, Joe. A friend is in trouble. My friend Kate.” He plugged an ear and kept talking. “We need to mobilize a covert hostage rescue. People have died…and there’ll be more. The cops are treating the hostages like collateral damage. Rescue isn’t part of their operation.”
    “Understood. What are you going to do?” Joe asked. His friend knew him well enough to know he wouldn’t sit on the sidelines of a fight with innocent lives at stake.
    “I’m going to find another way into the clinic.”
    “Are you insane? Crossing police lines can get you killed. And cornered terrorists don’t play nice.” Joe raised his voice. “Getting stuck in the cross fire will be a bitch.”
    “The hostages have no one else, Joe. And if you’re only questioning my sanity now, what does that say about you?” He winced, with pain radiating heat across his belly. “Please…do like I told you. And with any luck, I’ll meet you like we planned. I’m turning off my phone now. Leave a message when you know something.”
    Without waiting for a reply, he ended the call. Sticking to the shadows, he made his way back to the Toyota and retrieved the AK-47 he’d stashed in the trunk. The Haitian police had the building surrounded, but with any luck, he’d find a way in.
    He had to.
    Tortuga Island, Haiti
    Being awakened in the middle of the night by a troubling call from his boss, Jackson Kinkaid, left Joe LaClaire on edge. Raking a hand through his dark hair, he paced the floor of his motel room on Tortuga Island. Sweat beaded the skin of his bare chest. Even wearing nothing but boxers, he felt the muggy heat close in on him. And although his mind raced with names of people who might help, only one name hit the top of his list and stuck.
    Garrett Wheeler.
    The man had resources and plenty of them. And he could mobilize a covert hostage-rescue operation anywhere in the world, fast. Joe reached for the fifth of Crown Royal on his nightstand and downed the rest. His throat burned as the whisky went down.
    There was only one drawback—Kinkaid had something against Garrett Wheeler.
    The two men had a history that had created a rift between them, and Joe knew nothing about the particulars. He only knew Wheeler by reputation and from being in Kinkaid’s inner circle. And although men like Jackson Kinkaid were frequently short on details, he respected the man’s privacy.
    His friend had urgently asked for results, even if he had to call in markers.
    If that meant pissing Kinkaid off to get the job done, then fuck it. Mission accomplished. He’d deal with the consequences later.
     
    “Move. NOW!” The leader yelled in English and gave orders to his men in his own language.
    Sister Kate felt the sharp jab of a rifle at her back. Metal hit her spine and sent a chilling jolt of pain to her neck and shoulders. One of the terrorists shoved her toward a door. She had no choice but to move. A hail of police gunfire had killed another man and one of the women hostages. And George, the guy who’d lost his wife, was holding a bloodied hand to his shoulder. She had no time to assess the damage. Bullets pounded thewalls above her head and sent chunks of plaster raining down on her. And the screams of women and children raised goose bumps across her skin.
    Kate prodded the children to stay low and shielded them from the horror. She looked back to see her captors crouched behind her—masked faces with hostile, glaring eyes—but a few of them remained to return fire and cover their retreat.
    A suicide mission.
    Kate wiped tears from her face—dealing with the aftermath of the tear-gas assault—and resisted the urge to throw up as she scrambled through the door with the children ahead of her. She clutched her habit and pulled up her tunic so she could move. When more bullets pounded