In a full sprint, Nathan brought his suppressed Sig up and toggled the laser, but the beam couldn’t penetrate the low-hanging branches. What if it wasn’t Montez? It could be a neighbor. Or a friend. Or relative. Anyone could be in that van. It could even be Director Cantrell’s people. He couldn’t risk killing an innocent, even it meant letting Montez get away.

Thirty yards.

The van slowed to negotiate a hairpin turn in the driveway.

Fifteen yards.

As it rounded the corner, the face in the passenger’s window turned.

And looked directly at him.

In the green image of his NV scope, the face smiled. A face he knew as well as his own. A face from the depths of hatred and insanity. A face he’d vowed to remove from its skull if ever given the chance.

“It’s Montez. Passenger seat.”

“I’m almost to the road.”

In a gesture of brazen mockery, his former tormentor blew a kiss good-bye.

You son of a bitch. He brought his Sig up and toggled the laser. He’d only get one shot.

It had to count.

He skidded to a stop, took a deep breath, and painted the laser on Montez’s window—

And didn’t pull the trigger.

A second face had materialized.

A young girl. In the backseat. One of Dalton’s daughters. He couldn’t risk it. And the foliage along the driveway kept him from targeting the van’s tires.

“Hold your fire!”

“Copy.”

Five seconds later he heard the van screech onto El Camino Real. With a sickening twist of his stomach, he knew they’d never reach Harv’s Mercedes in time to follow.

And just like that, Montez was gone.

Chapter 35

Chapter  35

Montez caught only a glimpse of the dark figure sprinting toward the van. Whoever he was, he wasn’t going to make it. A third bodyguard? Not likely. A few jolts of the stun gun to Duane Dalton’s exposed nerve endings verified there’d only been two bodyguards and two dogs patrolling the property. Arturo had eliminated all four threats with ease.

So who was that man back there? Could it be the same man who’d taken down his assault team in Clairemont? This guy was big—not just big—huge. And probably military or former military. Just like at Bullfrog Bay. The same person? The more Montez thought about it, the more likely it seemed.

His trap to capture or eliminate his pursuers was set, but would it work? He pulled his cell and called a phone number he’d extracted from Dalton.

***

“Harv, double-time back up here. We’re going inside the house. Let me know when you’ve got me on the TI.”

“Copy.”