Tempting SEALs 4 - Hidden Agendas.pdf

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For all our men and women in the Armed Forces.
We can only imagine the danger and the darkness you live
with, but we know the freedoms you protect for us.
And we thank you.
We think of you.
Prologue
Diego Fuentes stared into the vast panorama of cliffs and ocean outside his borrowed home, and
reflected on destiny. The destiny of a man and what he builds through his life, and how his legacy
would be carried on. The destiny of a man born to power, but whose greatness is often diminished by
those he loves.
The destiny of a man determined to protect and nurture the last resource that would guide his empire
into the future.
At his side lay the report smuggled from the United States offices of Homeland Security. The detailed
pages of reports on the men he sought. Their strengths and weaknesses, code names and locations.
Their operational status and the fact that each man was part of the highly organized strike that had
killed his youngest son and whore of a wife eighteen months previously.
The information on his oldest son was there as well. A strong, proud man, and one who had been
involved in that same operation.
There were threads and ties, loyalties and friendships, among the five men. Five now. There had once
been six. And each of them was another link in the chain that led to his son.
He couldn't kill them, not and achieve his aims. As much as he wanted to kill all but one of them, his
hands were bound.
This game must be very carefully played; the sacrifice of his nephew and uncle in the operation
against the DEA several months before had been regrettable, but they had known the risks and they
had failed. Failure was not acceptable. Now, he must decide which pawn to move in the delicate
battle waging between himself and the son he had slowly been courting for many months now.
His fingers tapped against the arm of the leather chair as he stared into the distant skyline with
narrowed eyes.
Along with the reports had come the information on the U.S. senators heading a committee to oversee
the enforcement of America's drug laws and to advise on certain operations being carried out.
One such operation was Deep Sweep, a multiagency task force set up to draw out the spy Diego had
planted within their midst.
A smile tipped his lips. He was no fool, despite the appearance of it that he had given lately. He saw
the pawns, accepted the sacrifices, and allowed the illusion of his own humility for one end. To test
the boy who would eventually inherit all Diego had built.
Now, another move must be made.
He turned, spreading his arms on the desk to encompass the files and reports laid out before him.
Across the desk, his father's old advisor, Saul, waited patiently, his lined expression filled with
sadness at the news that had come in that Santiago and Manuelo had been arrested and were now
being held in an American prison to await trial.
"You have provided for my nephew and uncles comfort?" He asked Saul then.
Saul nodded patiently. "The money was passed to the proper hands as of this morning. All their needs
will be taken care of."
Diego nodded as he leaned back in his chair and regarded Saul quizzically. "And our spy, Mr. White?
What have you learned?"
Saul sighed heavily. "As I have warned you, my friend, this man, he is greedy and growing powerful,
as is evidenced by his new association with the European terrorist Sorrell, who wishes to make use
of your cartel. Together, they will move against you when they believe the time is right. They have
evidently not decided that time has yet come."
Diego nodded. This he knew as well. He had seen it coming in the past years, and in the carefully
worded information he had been given by his spy. Power meant everything to some men. To this man
especially. And he believed his association with the terrorist cell of Sorrell would bring him that
great power.
Diego would show him the error of his ways. Eventually.
"Are his reports accurate?" Diego asked.
"They are accurate, but he neglects to mention important key factors regarding each one. He is holding
information back, saving it for his own ends, or for a time when it can bring him rewards."
"Such as information on this man?" Diego picked up a file and tossed it to Saul.
The picture on the front of the manila folder was harsh. Either from the low light or from something
within the man himself. Savage features, piercing emerald eyes, and a brooding, dangerous
expression. This was a man others were always wary of.
"Kell Kreiger. He is the grandson of a very prominent Louisiana family. What your friend neglected to
mention is that Mr. Kreiger has crossed our path once before in New Orleans, nearly fifteen years
ago. We made an example of his wife in retaliation for his work with a New Orleans detective there.
He killed two of our best men, bare-handed."
"Interesting that our friend did not mention this," Diego mused.
Diego did indeed remember the incident, though he hadn't remembered the name. Disowned for
marrying his pregnant girlfriend, a woman born on the streets with nothing to her name but the clothes
on her back. Kreiger had fallen in love with her at the tender age of seventeen. He had married before
he turned eighteen. Six months later, he had left New Orleans and joined the Navy, a widower.
To support his young wife Kell had worked at a local diner in New Orleans, an establishment that
two high-ranking suppliers within Diego's cartel had frequented. Kreiger had been spying on the
cartel members for a local police investigator. It had resulted in their arrest during a particularly
important drug deal.
They had warned the young man, Diego thought with regret. They had warned him not to testify against
the suppliers, but he had not heeded that warning. His wife and child had paid the price. Though
Diego had been unaware at the time of the wife's pregnancy. Perhaps he would have stayed his hand
had he known. Allowed the wife to live rather than giving the order for her death. But that was so
long ago, and during a time when Diego believed that power only came with blood.
Ah, the mistakes he had made as a youth. The blood he had shed that in time would have been better

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