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

George thought about it. He believed in Phelps, the man who had extracted him from this sticky situation. But it was a risk. Newton could always get a new hearing if someone believed he had more evidence. He took a deep breath, wavering between his desire for justice and his desire to stay afloat.

“Well, George?”

“Yes, yes, let him rot.”

Chapter Forty-Nine

Sinclair saw movement in the hacienda. He’d watched James appear every so often, taking out Quezada’s bodyguards along the way. For a long time, everyone disappeared into the hacienda and the gunfire stopped.

His grip tightened on his binoculars as he watched Quezada leave the hacienda alone, get into his car, and drive away. His mouth fell open. Sinclair had an empty feeling coursing through his stomach. James couldn’t be dead.

He threw his binoculars into the car and sped down the hill. Unblinking, if it were true, he intended to pick up the body. At the very least, James needed to have a proper burial. He wouldn’t allow his friend’s body to rot like the corpse of a common narco.

As he drove through the gates of the hacienda into the silent courtyard, the stench of death hit him. Sinclair was no field agent. He hated the violence. Switching off the engine, he fought back tears, terrified of what he might see. He had never imagined James dying before. It was unimaginable.

“Oh, Christ.” Sinclair sighed in relief.

James appeared on the upper level of the balcony.

His hands trembled as he touched the centre of the steering wheel with his forehead. Sinclair took deep breaths. His cheeks glowed. He felt foolish for doubting James.

“What’s up with Quezada?” Sinclair called out of the window.

“We’ll talk about that,” James replied.

Sinclair got out of the car. He saw the bullet holes in the stone walls around the courtyard. As he blinked the sunlight out of his eyes, he noted the blood dripping from James’ nose and the scuffs on his clothes.

Jessi skulked out onto the balcony. Free of the same scars of battle, she wore the dirty streaks left by her tears.

“What happened?” asked Sinclair as James entered the courtyard.

“He escaped.”

Sinclair’s lips tightened. Blake would be furious.

“I killed his bodyguards.” James gestured at various parts of the hacienda. “The aunt is still alive, but we should clear the bodies. I don’t want to leave her here with a load of decaying Mexicans. She’s an old woman.”

Sinclair batted a hand at that. “Come on, what happened? With all due respect, I didn’t come down here to talk about cleaning. I thought you were dead. I was watching you from the hill. You both went inside and then I saw someone who wasn’t you leave.”

“I let him go,” said James.

Sinclair’s throat tightened. “What?”

“I let him go.”

“Why…?” Sinclair stuttered.

“Quezada had a gun to Jessi’s head, and he was going to kill her if I didn’t cooperate with him. I had no choice.”

He didn’t need to ask why that had happened. James had spent too long in the hacienda alone with Jessi. James had developed feelings for her.

“You bloody fool,” said Sinclair with venom. “You have as much money as you could ever want. You could have had anyone in this shithole of a country, and you decided to choose that. I expected better from you.”

James’ face dropped. “It’s not like that.”

“Oh please, how long have I known you? You should have killed him. We are not the police. We have no duty of care to anything but the contract.”

“It’s my problem, not yours.”

Sinclair slammed a fist against the body of the car. “Don’t you understand? I’m your intelligence on the ground. If you fail, I get an axe in my neck as much as you do. It’s not all about you.”

James drew himself up to his full height. “Will you let me explain before you jump to conclusions?”

Sinclair clenched his fist. He already knew what had happened. A bucket of nonsense would only delay him from alerting Blake and warning him that Quezada had escaped. This had thrown the whole assignment into turmoil.

“Please, Sinclair. This is about so much more than Jessi.”

Sinclair peered up at Jessi, who still leaned over the balcony. Her beauty only intensified the bitterness on the back of his tongue. He could see why mere mortals would have stumbled, but James wasn’t supposed to be a mere mortal.

“Fine. Explain.”

Sinclair and James stepped into the centre of the courtyard.

“Look, I want you to keep an open mind,” said James. “What I’m about to tell you might sound stupid, but I think we should give it some thought. Killing Quezada might not be the best thing, after all.”

Sinclair folded his arms. He had had doubts about killing Quezada too, ever since Blake had seemed to take a keen interest in this assignment. Professionalism had prevented him from questioning his mission brief, until now.

James gave him the details about the encounter with Quezada and the deal James had made with him. The explanation piqued Sinclair’s interest. It didn’t take him long to connect the dots between what Quezada had said and how Blake had acted since his arrival.

“I wish you hadn’t told me,” said Sinclair. “I wish you would have killed Quezada.”

“I know.” James paled. The dried blood around his mouth and nose stuck out like crimson oil paint. “I’m sorry. I should have taken the shot.” He looked back at Jessi and gave her a thin smile. “No matter the risk.”

Sinclair knew what this meant. If they took Quezada at his word, they would be acting against the terms of their mission. It would put them in direct conflict with Blake, and maybe even Gallagher. If that were true, they were