“I see you know my name. How interesting. We’ll be discussing that soon. Arturo, please tape this man’s mouth.”

Montez watched in fascination as the man whipped his head back and forth, making it impossible for Arturo to plant the strip. With casual indifference, he gave Fontana a second jolt to the side of his neck, shorter this time. That did the trick. Arturo had no trouble applying the tape.

He dragged the bound man deeper into the landscaping. “Your friend is out in the water, no? He’s planning to board the yacht? Good. I have three men standing by with shark gaffs to bring him aboard. I’m afraid he’ll be somewhat damaged from the retrieval, but with a little luck, his wounds won’t be immediately fatal. I’ll need to speak with him as well. I must admit to a certain amount of curiosity about the two of you.” He turned. “Arturo, please bring the van.”

His man jogged down Gleason Road toward the main entrance to the Bahia.

“I’m curious to know if it was you or your friend who survived the assault at the Clairemont house. You don’t look so much like a McBride, so I’m guessing it was your partner. I must also confess to a certain amount of admiration for him. Armed with only a handgun, he defeated four of my men. I’m also planning to interrogate someone named, Holly?”

This hiding spot offered excellent concealment, but he didn’t intend to stay long. It would be just his luck to have a couple of drunk Americans stumble by. Arturo would arrive with the van soon and they’d leave this area. He looked across the water at the yacht. The other man, McBride, would be in the custody of his men by now, and they had strict orders not to kill him. Montez’s only regret at the moment was that he wouldn’t be there when the Daltons took the plunge. Montez looked up as headlights swept the opposite side of the road. Arturo, returning with the van.

Several hundred meters distant, the headlights went dark. Arturo was well trained. Montez watched his man pull over to the curb, climb out, and hurry toward the rear of the van.

Chapter 39

Chapter  39

The rear doors of the van opened.

“Lights out, dirtbag.”

Crouched just inside, Nathan Daniel McBride swiped his Predator across the man’s throat.

He sheathed the knife, jumped out, and sprinted toward Harv.

The man standing over his friend reacted quickly and pulled a handgun. No!

Harv’s body illuminated in the flash from the discharge.

So did the shooter’s face.

Montez.

***

Montez saw Arturo clutch his throat, fall to the grass, and curl into the fetal position.

What the hell!

A huge, shirtless man appeared and sprinted toward him with a gun in his hand. Montez didn’t have a clear shot—the small palms screened the advancing man.