Failed State (A James Winchester Thriller Book 1) (James Winchester Series) by James Samuel (best selling autobiographies TXT) 📕

and he seized the man by the shirt and dragged him into the corner. It wouldn’t hide him for long, but those few seconds could prove crucial.

James continued the hunt through the hacienda. Each room he swept like a fine-bristled brush, checking every corner, searching for any tell-tale signs that someone had crept through there. When he reached the kitchen, he found Aunt Camilia sitting at the table, her hands cradling a cup of coffee, the veins popping out on the backs of her hands.

“Where are they?” James whispered into her ear.

Camilia shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“You must have heard them. Where did you last see them?”

Camilia shook her head, once again, and said nothing.

James gritted her teeth. He knew Camilia wanted to protect her nephew from harm. He sighed and made his way out of the kitchen into a storeroom used as a pantry. Amongst the boxes of tortillas and canned food, he glimpsed the blinding light of the open door on the other side.

He checked his corners again before advancing through the cavernous space. James stopped at the end of the room. Something didn’t feel right.

James turned back. He saw nobody, but he felt a presence. He raised his gun out of instinct and fired back towards the little corridor between the kitchen and the storeroom. The sound of the gun echoed through the room.

A scream came back from the kitchen and a hail of fire rocketed through the storeroom. James dove away from the door and crouched behind a stack of cardboard boxes. He adjusted his aim at the door. Footsteps from the kitchen made his pulse accelerate. The silhouette came into view and James fired. Another of Quezada’s men dropped dead.

Once the echoes had cleared, James’s head snapped from side to side, as if attached to a swivel. Trying to catch a sound. Trying to find a sign. He heard footsteps thumping above his head. Quezada had started to sweep the upper levels. He was closing in on Jessi.

James tore through the storeroom, past the new bullet holes in the wall, and emerged into the sunlight again. He squinted into the sudden burst of light. Weighing up his options, he decided to make his way to the unused section of the hacienda. With only two men left, he had to check on Jessi. He couldn’t let Quezada get to her first.

Using the low walls as cover, he circled the hacienda to the one door he knew he could smash through into the other wing. He made it around one corner before more shots forced him to hit the ground. James didn’t need to look up to know where it had come from. Quezada had made it to their former living quarters.

“Quezada!” a voice called.

“Shit,” James muttered under his breath.

He half-crawled, half-stumbled along the veranda. Each time he made it a few feet, another burst of gunfire forced him to the ground again. He didn’t know where Quezada was, or where he’d emerge. If he got pinned down here against two guys, it was over.

James lifted his gun and fired blindly at the other side of the house, before crawling a few more feet. Little by little, he made his way around the hacienda until he came to the area hiding Jessi.

He crouched at the point where the two walls intersected and tried to locate his attacker. James slammed another cartridge into his gun and opened fire again. His shots missed hopelessly at the man in the distance.

“Quezada!” The man called again.

James had had enough. He backed himself against the warped wooden door and emptied his cartridge as he mule-kicked the door until it came free. The weak door flew open and James threw himself inside as the man returned fire.

He took some long, deep breaths to gather himself during the momentary lull. Quezada hadn’t responded to the shouts from his soldier. Smart move. A long chill ran down his neck. The drug lord was stalking him.

He inspected his new surroundings. It was like he’d stepped backwards in time. This part of the hacienda had nothing but broken-down furniture half-covered in dusty sheets. The windows, cut out of the stone themselves, allowed in just enough light through the bars to see the outlines of the room, nothing more.

James inched through. This time he moved with reckless abandon. They’d gotten close to Jessi’s hiding spot, too close. He did his checks in a split second before ploughing on. Eventually, he came to a small stone staircase leading to the upper levels.

As he prepared to make his way up, he heard a scream and gunfire. It was a woman’s scream. Quezada had found Jessi.

Chapter Forty-Six

Valenciana, Guanajuato, Mexico

 

The great church of San Cayetano stood above the gaping mouth leading to the silver mines. The façade had lost most of its saints and one of the bell towers. Yet each day, worshippers came in droves. Blake passed the tired-looking organ and approached the pulpit. He sat down next to Fernando, who, with his eyes closed, clasped his hands in prayer.

“Praying won’t get you nowhere in this game,” said Blake in a low voice.

Fernando opened his eyes. “You Americans like to mock us.”

“I’m just saying, God isn’t interested in your business. He’s more interested in that.” Blake pointed at the altarpiece covered in gold leaf. “Your time has come.”

“My time?” Fernando’s jaw stiffened. “Why do you say that?”

“I hope you made the necessary arrangements. Quezada will be dead within the next few hours. He’s walked into a trap he won’t be able to get out of. If you’re not ready to take the leadership now, someone else will take it for you.”

“I’m ready.”

Blake nodded. He knew Fernando had everything he needed to take control of the cartel. With Quezada’s most feared lieutenant dead and Alex