Page 3 of Echoes and Oaths (Guardian Security Dynasty #4)
T he luxury of the jet was soon forgotten when they touched down in Mexico.
He and Raven transferred to a small prop jet and took off not more than thirty minutes after they’d landed in Mexico.
The plane ride was loud and turbulent. It lacked even the basic amenities lavished on the Guardian transports, but one of the Guardian jets couldn’t land where this plane would.
It touched down with the smooth precision of a pilot who had done this kind of job before.
The event was silent, quick, and held zero desire for attention.
When the wheels met the ground of the small, unregistered airstrip carved out of the jungle, Jinx unclipped his harness and stretched .
Beside him, Raven adjusted her duffel, eyes sharp. “We good?”
Jinx gave a slow nod, scanning their surroundings. The airstrip was just a clearing, an old CIA drop point repurposed for black-market transport. It was outside the cartel’s direct control, but they’d still have to move fast. If the wrong people saw them, questions would be asked.
They stepped onto the packed dirt, the thick, humid air hitting them instantly.
No lights, no control tower. One man leaned against a rusted truck.
Jinx recognized him, an old contact who made it his business not to ask questions.
They exchanged nods and a handful of money before loading their gear into the truck’s bed.
Jinx slid into the driver’s seat while Raven took the passenger side, rifle casually resting against her thigh. The truck rumbled to life, rolling toward a narrow trail that blended into the jungle.
“Where’s the safe house?” Raven asked, her voice low.
Jinx glanced at her. “About thirty clicks east, near the foothills. Cartels don’t like the area. There are too many damn caves, bad terrain for their convoys. Plus, a couple of years back, someone made it a habit of making their roads disappear.” He made a gesture like an explosion.
Raven snorted. “You blew up their roads?”
“Maybe.” Jinx shrugged.
The drive was long, the road twisting through dense vegetation. Jinx watched for checkpoints, armed convoys, or out-of-place vehicles, but they encountered nothing beyond the occasional stray dog or a lone farmer leading a mule.
As they neared Maracay, a larger city known for its military presence, Jinx made a call.
He hung up and pulled down a dusty dirt road.
“We’re switching cars here,” he told Raven.
“Can’t risk someone recognizing this truck.
They could trace the truck back to my contact at the airfield and jeopardize our exfil. ”
Raven nodded and blew out a long breath. “Leaving is important.”
Fifteen minutes and two wads of cash later, they were in a dusty Land Cruiser, a model common enough to blend in but sturdy enough to get them where they needed to go.
Raven tapped the window. “We’re getting close, aren’t we?”
Jinx nodded and exhaled as his fingers tightened on the wheel as they approached the outskirts of town.
Memories flooded him. The town wasn’t much.
It was an old colonial-era village surrounded by jungle and mountains.
It had a small clinic, a market that ran mostly by barter and trade, and locals who knew to keep their heads down .
There was no cartel presence. The location was too inconvenient for their operations.
Jinx parked behind an abandoned mechanic’s shop obscuring the Land Cruiser beneath a collapsed awning.
He and Raven moved fast, taking a side route through an overgrown footpath.
It used to be well-traveled. Now, vines pulled at Jinx’s boots, and he had to duck through a tangle of branches.
A few minutes later, they emerged on the other side, where there was a small house, which was hidden from the main roads.
He and Raven crouched outside with a view of the house and used infrared scopes to ensure no one had taken up residence. When he was sure it was clear, he tapped his comm device. “Assets have arrived at the safe house. Transfer Raven to our frequency. You’ll be our control for this mission.”
Brando’s response was immediate. “Copy.”
Raven smiled widely. “Thank you for that. Ring really is a pain in the ass.”
“Figured you wouldn’t mind a few weeks without him. ”
“Is that how long you think this will take? A few weeks?” she asked as they entered the house.
Jinx walked over to the fireplace and removed a brick from the side.
He pulled a handle, and a trap door under the rug opened.
He tossed the rug away before he answered her question.
“If Guardian’s intel on the Ghost is correct, yes.
If it isn’t, it could be longer.” He pulled the handle on the door and lifted the heavy boards.
“Well, look at that.” Raven whistled.
Jinx dropped soundlessly into the stronghold he’d built over the years in Venezuela.
The fortified space was his sanctuary, hidden deep in the jungle, with everything he needed to survive and wage war.
Weapons lined the interior. Rifles, handguns, and explosives were secured long before he’d made his move on Montoya’s villa.
He wasn’t particular about his arsenal. If it could kill, he used it.
On the far side of the reinforced cellar, shelves held ammunition, MREs, canned fruit, soups, meats, rice, and beans. All the staples of a man who lived off-grid. He grabbed a few supplies and tossed them to Raven, who caught them effortlessly.
“Stock up,” he muttered to himself. He’d fill his stores before leaving the country again.
Raven wordlessly took the weapons and ammo first, then moved on to the food.
While he hauled himself out of the storage space and secured the hidden entrance, she started cleaning up.
Jinx methodically stripped and cleaned his weapons, ensuring every part was in perfect working order.
The steady, rhythmic motions kept his mind focused, a necessity when his thoughts threatened to drift somewhere he refused to go.
Before long, the scent of cooking filled the air, and his stomach growled in anticipation. Raven set two plates on the small wooden table, which she’d dusted earlier, given the years of neglect. “Eat,” she ordered.
Jinx sat, nodded his thanks, and dug in. He ate in silence but felt Raven watching him. She stayed quiet until he finished, then leaned back in her chair, arms crossed.
“When are you going to go see her?”
Jinx lifted his eyes, cocking his head. “Who?”
Raven’s gaze sharpened, cutting straight through him. “Don’t play dumb. When you came back from that mission, you were different. Everybody noticed. Some thought it was because you’d been undercover so long, climbing the cartel’s ranks. But I call bullshit.”
Jinx stiffened but said nothing .
“You were changed,” she continued. “Withdrawn. Introspective. You didn’t find joy in your friends anymore.
You turned into a solitary person. The only reason I can see for that kind of transformation?
You had a broken heart.” She studied him, then tilted her head.
“Did she break it, or did you leave her and rip it out?”
Jinx leaned back in his chair, assessing his friend. “You’re a lot deeper than people give you credit for.”
Raven smirked and carried their empty plates into the kitchen. “And you’re dodging the question.”
“No,” he said simply. “I’m just not answering it.”
She pumped the old hand pump at the sink, drawing water with strong, steady movements. “So, you did love her,” she murmured, half to herself.
Jinx turned his head, staring out the window at the darkness beyond. Love her? Yeah, he’d loved her. He’d left his soul in Venezuela.
Eira was the only woman who’d ever made him consider walking away from Guardian.
She was remarkable, unlike anyone he’d ever met.
He still remembered the first time he’d seen her.
It wasn’t under grand or dramatic circumstances.
No, it had been something simple that had told him exactly who she was at her core.
He’d been deep in cartel territory when he’d found an injured dog. Its leg had been mangled, clearly broken beyond his expertise to fix. The men he’d been with at the time had scoffed at his concern.
“Shoot it,” one of them had said as if the animal’s life were meaningless.
Jinx had known right then that he despised those men. He hadn’t said a word to them. He simply picked up the dog and started walking.
He’d been told that a veterinarian in town could help, and that had been where he’d first met Eira.
He’d always been better with animals than people. He understood them. Trusted them. He’d seen more compassion in a dog’s eyes than in most men’s. That belief had been ingrained in him since childhood.
His earliest memories were of working alongside his mother at an animal rescue.
His father had traveled constantly, absent more often than not.
But his mother had given him something more valuable than a traditional family.
She’d taught him how to care for creatures that couldn’t fend for themselves.
The rescue took in the injured, the sick, and the dying.
It was a place of solace, of healing. Jinx had spent every afternoon after school cleaning cages, feeding the animals, and, on the worst days, he helped remove the ones who didn’t make it.
Those had been the hardest days. Those had been the days that had cut into his soul.
The shelter had struggled to survive. It had been twenty acres of prime real estate in California, land that developers salivated over. But his mother’s best friend, Lana, had been the owner and fought tooth and nail to keep it running.
He remembered the night it had all changed. His mother and Lana had been working late to process a delivery from a hoarder’s house packed with cats. He’d been in college at the time, buried in coursework. She’d told him to go home, study, and focus on his future.