Ghost Sniper by Scott McEwen Page A

seen and done.” He slid his left hand behind her neck, taking one of her full breasts in his right to give it a firm squeeze, softly thumbing the nipple. She sighed and put her head back as he laid her down on the bed, kissing her lustfully and allowing the animal within him to run free.
    As he prepared to mount her, she placed her hands on his chest. “Stop.”
    He stopped. “Something wrong?”
    â€œI should warn you.” She swallowed, her ardor burning. “I should tell you that—that I think you’re about to make a very dangerous enemy.”
    â€œHow so?”
    â€œWhat I mean is that I think you’re about to give me reason to cancel a very expensive wedding.”
    He laughed and pushed gently inside of her, burying his face in the golden storm of her hair. She gasped and dug her heels into the small of his back, clawing the flesh of his ass.
    â€œWhat a fool,” she moaned softly.
    â€œWho?” he whispered.
    â€œThe one down the hall.” She sank her fingers into his hair, nipping at his ear. “The one losing to me in a fucking card game.”

8
    MEXICO CITY, MEXICO
    10:00 HOURS
    Agent Mike Ortega of the CIA arrived at ten sharp the next morning. He was a big guy with broad shoulders, dark brown eyes, and a thin mustache. The Mexican American carried himself with an arrogance that annoyed Crosswhite the moment he opened the door. Agent Mendoza, the PFM agent who had saved Vaught’s life, stood just behind him, dressed in regular clothes now, his face turned to watch the door to the enclosed carport, his oversized Adam’s apple protruding.
    â€œYou’re Crosswhite?” Ortega asked.
    â€œRight.”
    Ortega offered his hand. He was one of those guys who felt it necessary to half crush the other guy’s hand during a handshake, but he realized at once that Crosswhite’s grip was at least as strong as his own. This surprised him, given that Crosswhite stood a head shorter and was built on a lighter frame. “I understand you’ve already met Agent Mendoza.”
    â€œI have.” Crosswhite shook his hand as well. “ Bienvenido .” Welcome.
    â€œIs Vaught still here?” Ortega asked.
    â€œIn the living room.” Crosswhite motioned the two inside.
    Vaught stood waiting in the center of the room and shook hands with both men. There was a moment of mild tension between him and Mendoza, but it seemed to pass quickly enough.
    â€œSorry I couldn’t make it over here last night,” Ortega said. “This is my first time at bat in this kind of operation, and it’s taken some time to get the kinks ironed out. They’re still not ironed out completely, but I’m afraid there’s going to be a lot of OJT for everyone involved.”
    Paolina came out of the bedroom with Valencia in her arms, crossing the living room to take a seat on the sofa and set Valencia down beside her.
    Ortega watched her for a moment, looking at Crosswhite. “Okay, look, we can’t have indigenous personnel sitting in on this conversation, so she’s going to have to step out for a while.”
    Paolina didn’t understand what had been said, but she knew from her husband’s face that she had been insulted in some way, and she prepared for him to lose his temper.
    â€œFirst of all,” Crosswhite said, “she’s not indigenous . She’s Cuban. And second of all, she’s my wife. You got that, asshole?”
    Ortega took offense immediately. “Hey, we’re all on the same side here, fella.”
    Crosswhite stared back at him.
    Vaught glanced at Paolina, who sat watching passively, almost as though she knew what was about to happen.
    â€œWell, suit yourself,” Ortega said, openly annoyed. “If you don’t mind endangering her life, I don’t see why I should.”
    Crosswhite struck him with a closed fist just above the right eye to send Ortega reeling backward