unusual. Garrett was certain that what could be found on paper for the man’s tax filings and otherofficial documents was only a fraction of the story. Kinkaid was rumored to be involved with warring factions of drug cartels in South America, a mercenary working for the highest bidder.
The man had been trained in weapons and combat tactics. He knew how to use force, yet his biggest assets were his intelligence and his preference for subtle mind games and intimidation strategies, something Garrett had always respected and admired. But if Kinkaid was involved with ruthless drug cartels, that meant he had changed for the worse—making him a dangerous man.
“Jackson Kinkaid.” Saying the name aloud spawned dark memories he would have preferred not to think about. He couldn’t afford to indulge in guilt. To do so would make him ineffective at his job.
When it came to Kinkaid, he hated to admit their past was like a festering wound that had never healed. His wound. And he wasn’t used to owning up to blame. Over the years, they had kept their distance, both in denial that it would only be a matter of time before their paths would cross again.
“And apparently”—he took his first sip of coffee—“that time is now.”
Regardless of the obligation he felt toward Kinkaid, he would not send a team into a rescue operation on foreign soil without doing his research. That was why he had Tanya Spencer indulge his curiosity with an analysis. And for his part, he thought of only one person to lead a covert hostage rescue in Haiti—and his choice was not purely made on qualifications alone.
Garrett knew that at one time Alexa Marlowe hadhad feelings for Jackson Kinkaid. He had no idea if those feelings were returned. She’d never told him, but it had always made him wonder. If there was still an emotional tie between his beautiful blond operative and Kinkaid, he could use that edge, although he had mixed feelings about doing so.
On a personal level, it pained him to use Alexa in such a way. Yet if it became necessary, manipulating Kinkaid was another matter. He’d use any means that would give him an edge.
Garrett took another sip of coffee. If he played his cards right, he could bury the hatchet and sever the obligation he felt toward Kinkaid, plus turn the tables in the process. He much preferred manipulating a top-notch operative into believing he owed him many times over.
He gritted his teeth and pushed through the materials in front of him. He had work to do before he gave the assignment to his number one field agent. His choice to send Alexa had ramped up the importance of his decision. And depending on what came of his assessment, Alexa’s new recruit, Jessica Beckett, might get assigned, too. From the sounds of the situation in Haiti, Jackson Kinkaid was desperate.
And desperate men—with plenty to lose—could be played to his advantage now and in the future.
Port de Paix, Haiti
Kinkaid cut to the rear of the clinic and kept his distance from the perimeter the Haitian police had set. Ona ridge, he ducked into the shadow of a deserted old armory and crouched against a stone wall to catch his breath and watch the action below.
The police had strategically directed lights along the rear of the medical facility. Although it complicated matters, the lights gave him a better view. The clinic where the hostages were being held had a basement. Narrow windows at ground level, two subterranean walkouts reinforced by cinder blocks, and a small loading bay for supplies made possible entry points. The windows were too tight to squeeze through, and the cops had the points of entry covered. He wasn’t about to slip by them unnoticed.
On the side of good news, there were fewer cops guarding the back side of the building. If he got lucky, and the cops suddenly went blind, he might have a chance to find a way in. But the bad news far outweighed the good.
He wouldn’t kill a cop who was only trying to do his duty as
The man had been trained in weapons and combat tactics. He knew how to use force, yet his biggest assets were his intelligence and his preference for subtle mind games and intimidation strategies, something Garrett had always respected and admired. But if Kinkaid was involved with ruthless drug cartels, that meant he had changed for the worse—making him a dangerous man.
“Jackson Kinkaid.” Saying the name aloud spawned dark memories he would have preferred not to think about. He couldn’t afford to indulge in guilt. To do so would make him ineffective at his job.
When it came to Kinkaid, he hated to admit their past was like a festering wound that had never healed. His wound. And he wasn’t used to owning up to blame. Over the years, they had kept their distance, both in denial that it would only be a matter of time before their paths would cross again.
“And apparently”—he took his first sip of coffee—“that time is now.”
Regardless of the obligation he felt toward Kinkaid, he would not send a team into a rescue operation on foreign soil without doing his research. That was why he had Tanya Spencer indulge his curiosity with an analysis. And for his part, he thought of only one person to lead a covert hostage rescue in Haiti—and his choice was not purely made on qualifications alone.
Garrett knew that at one time Alexa Marlowe hadhad feelings for Jackson Kinkaid. He had no idea if those feelings were returned. She’d never told him, but it had always made him wonder. If there was still an emotional tie between his beautiful blond operative and Kinkaid, he could use that edge, although he had mixed feelings about doing so.
On a personal level, it pained him to use Alexa in such a way. Yet if it became necessary, manipulating Kinkaid was another matter. He’d use any means that would give him an edge.
Garrett took another sip of coffee. If he played his cards right, he could bury the hatchet and sever the obligation he felt toward Kinkaid, plus turn the tables in the process. He much preferred manipulating a top-notch operative into believing he owed him many times over.
He gritted his teeth and pushed through the materials in front of him. He had work to do before he gave the assignment to his number one field agent. His choice to send Alexa had ramped up the importance of his decision. And depending on what came of his assessment, Alexa’s new recruit, Jessica Beckett, might get assigned, too. From the sounds of the situation in Haiti, Jackson Kinkaid was desperate.
And desperate men—with plenty to lose—could be played to his advantage now and in the future.
Port de Paix, Haiti
Kinkaid cut to the rear of the clinic and kept his distance from the perimeter the Haitian police had set. Ona ridge, he ducked into the shadow of a deserted old armory and crouched against a stone wall to catch his breath and watch the action below.
The police had strategically directed lights along the rear of the medical facility. Although it complicated matters, the lights gave him a better view. The clinic where the hostages were being held had a basement. Narrow windows at ground level, two subterranean walkouts reinforced by cinder blocks, and a small loading bay for supplies made possible entry points. The windows were too tight to squeeze through, and the cops had the points of entry covered. He wasn’t about to slip by them unnoticed.
On the side of good news, there were fewer cops guarding the back side of the building. If he got lucky, and the cops suddenly went blind, he might have a chance to find a way in. But the bad news far outweighed the good.
He wouldn’t kill a cop who was only trying to do his duty as
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