First to Kill Read Online Free

average-sized man.… Everywhere.”
    “It’s good to see you too, Nate.”
    “How’s the family?”
    “If you’d visit once in awhile, you wouldn’t have to ask.”
    “You know how it is.”
    “Yeah, I know.”
    Nathan’s tone changed. “From one to ten, what’s the urgency of tonight’s meeting with Ortega?”
    “Ten.”
    * * *
    They drove south on I-5, enjoying a comfortable silence. After a few miles, Harv merged east onto I-8.
    “You get a chance to look at the financials I sent last week?”
    Nathan grunted.
    “Our net worth went up another eight-hundred grand this quarter.”
    “Just paper.”
    “I know money bores you, but honestly. You own a helicopter, for cryin’ out loud, and your home in La Jolla is to kill for.” Harvey shook his head. “If you ever get truly bored with your share of our company, you can always sell it to me.”
    “Don’t worry, it’s yours for free when I kick the bucket.”
    “I wish you wouldn’t talk that way. My world is much more interesting with you in it.”
    “So,” Nathan’s tone signaled a change of subject, “you and Ortega go pretty far back.”
    “I know his son, Greg, better. He was doing Middle East satellite intel for the CIA at the same time we were in Nicaragua. He transferred to counterterrorism work in the FBI eight years ago.”
    Nathan said nothing. He already knew all of this. Harv was setting a stage.
    “He’s a good guy, okay?” said Harvey.
    Nathan didn’t respond. He fully planned on helping Frank Ortega, but had some nonnegotiable conditions.
    “I couldn’t have rescued you without Greg’s help,” Harvey continued. “I know you know that. But Greg knows it too. We spent long nights studying satellite imagery together. He volunteered his time freely, without strings. I owe him, Nate. Big-time. We owe him.”
    They rode in silence for the rest of the trip. Everything Harv said was true, and Nathan didn’t resent it being said. Harv had saved his life. He wouldn’t have lasted another day in that damned cage. In fact, he had no memory of being carried three miles through the jungle. Mercifully, he’d been in and out of consciousness, mostly out.
    During their botched mission, Nathan had sacrificed himself to ensure Harv’s escape. They’d been surrounded by guerilla soldiers hell-bent on capturing them alive. They separated to give themselves the best chance of making it out, but Nathan had doubled back to cover Harv’s exit. He’d purposely given his position away by firing shots to draw the mercenaries away from Harv.
    Bottom line? He and Harv were closer than family and either of them would give their lives for the other—no questions asked. If helping the Ortegas was that important to Harv, Nathan would be there for him.
    They pulled into Frank Ortega’s driveway at 11:50 pm. It was a steep climb, snaking up to a Mediterranean Spanish-style home with a terra-cotta roof. Lit with spots, mature palms lined both sides of the driveway, creating an impressive colonnade. A dark Ford Taurus was parked in front of a detached, three-car garage. Nathan figured it for an FBI vehicle, probably Greg Ortega’s ride. The white stucco house was big, but not overly so, and the classic symmetry of design was pleasing to the eye. A wheelchair ramp had been constructed to one side of the entrance, bypassing the steps up to the front door. As their Mercedes rolled to a stop, a Rottweiler bounded out from the side yard and challenged their intrusion.
    Nathan opened his door.
    Harv put a hand on his shoulder. “Maybe you should wait until Frank comes out.”
    Nathan slid out and took a step forward, addressing the dog in a near whisper. “Easy now. You’re not in charge here. I am.”
    “Come on, Nate, get back in. That dog’s going to tear you to pieces.”
    He took another step forward. “I’m not afraid of you. Settle down. Now.” The dog backed up a step, unsure of its standing with this new arrival. Hearing something Nathan