Free The Savage Dead by Joe McKinney

at Cozumel with thousands aboard. The psychological impact of that would be catastrophic, and Ramon Medina would come out on top. He’d be the king. No other cartel could touch him—they’d be too afraid to. The Americans would be the same story. They’d be too afraid he’d release his little bag of horrors on one of their cities.
    “You realize they’ll vilify you worse than they did Bin Laden, don’t you?” she said.
    “Perhaps.”
    “They will. No question about it.”
    “Let them. As long as they fear me, they’ll have enough sense to stay away.”
    She shook her head. “God, I hope you know what you’re doing.”
    “I do, Pilar. I know exactly what I’m doing. But I need your help.”
    “Me? What can I do?”
    “I need someone onboard that ship.”
    She laughed out loud. “Yeah, right.”
    “Pilar, I need someone on that ship to make sure the plan goes like it’s supposed to. I need to know that the senator is dead.”
    “But, what about . . . ?” She gestured toward the zombie on the other side of the glass.
    “You’ll have all the information you’ll need to stay safe.”
    “Her cruise is in two weeks. You expect me to master everything there is to know about this bacteria of yours in two weeks?”
    “I didn’t send you to Harvard for nothing.”
    She didn’t know what to say to that. Pilar stared at the zombie and tried to fathom what was going on behind those dead eyes. The ghost of her own reflection stared back at her, much as it had done from the airplane’s window, and she found herself happy, for now at least, for the walls she’d built up over the years.
    “Pilar?” he said. “Please do this for me. I wouldn’t trust anybody else.”
    Damn him, she thought. The bastard had to make it personal. He really knew how to get to her. She’d never been able to tell him no.
    She closed her eyes.
    “Fine,” she said. “I guess I’m your girl.”

C H A PTER 4
    From the street, only two members of Juan Perez’s team were plainly visible. At least to the untrained eye. That was good; that was exactly the way he wanted it. Exactly like Senator Sutton wanted it, too. She’d been very clear on that point. She knew Juan took his orders from the White House, and that she didn’t have any choice in taking the protection his team provided, but she nonetheless made sure they knew how she felt about it. She didn’t want to feel like she was living in a compound. And she would not give the cartels the satisfaction of knowing that they had driven her behind walls or that she was living in fear. As far as she was concerned, every moment she spent in the public eye was a slap in the face to the cartels, and she intended to get the most out of it.
    It hadn’t been difficult to meet her demands. The layout of her street and the surrounding businesses made it a snap, even for a small team like his. Her building was midway down Woodley Place, and there were discreet parking lots at the two large cross streets of Woodley Road and Calvert to the north and south, respectively. Every car turning onto the street (and it was a quiet street, so there hadn’t been many) in the week since the attempt on her life at the Washington Hilton, could be checked and run through the NCIC databases without the driver ever seeing the agents who ran their plates. Additionally, the Secret Service had been able to lease an apartment directly across the street from the senator’s building, and the Bank of America behind her had been kind enough to let them use a third-story office that covered the roof of the senator’s building. The office had the added benefit of commanding a long view down the service alley that led behind the senator’s apartment, which cut down on the number of posts he’d have to man and helped him stay under budget. Also, there was an Indian curry house down on Calvert that Juan had grown quite fond of, and a yoghurt shop up at Woodley Road that Tess liked. All in all, Juan was pleased