by Elle James
The dive boat had come fully equipped with some of the latest equipment. The captain, a former Navy SEAL, was more than willing to lend his boat, equipment and time to get the SEALs to their location to rescue one of their own.
Hank, C-Note and Jacob would carry waterproof bags full of weapons. They would operate diver propulsion vehicles (DPVs) that would propel them and their heavy bags through the water at speeds up to three miles per hour. The other SEALs would follow at their own pace. Once they arrived at the base of the cliffs, they’d deploy the grappling hook launcher C-Note had among his collection of weapons and equipment. Once they had several ropes anchored at the top of the cliff, they’d work their way up the cliff and into the cartel’s compound.
As soon as the boat stopped, the SEALs went into action. They slipped the buoyancy control devices (BCDs) with the attached scuba tanks over their shoulders and buckled them across their chests. Regulators fit in their mouths, and they slipped their feet into fins.
The waterproof bags, or “dry” bags, loaded with their weapons and the grappling hook launcher, were lowered into the water off the back of the boat.
Jacob, Hank and C-Note hooked the dry bags to their BCDs and let them float alongside them.
Once the diver propulsion devices were lowered into the water and the engines started, they were ready to go.
Hank gave the thumbs-up and slipped beneath the surface.
Jacob slipped in beside him on the left and C-Note flanked Hank’s right side. The other SEALs and Deltas adjusted their masks and stepped off the sides of the boat.
Soon, they were all moving toward the shore and the cliff they’d have to scale in order to enter the compound, hopefully utilizing the element of surprise to overcome the opposition and get Hawk out alive. Their DEA undercover informant had noted several sentries on the road leading in but couldn’t vouch for the ocean side of the structure. They were on their own and would have to deal with whatever stood in their way. With a full special operations team, they should have no trouble taking the compound.
Jacob focused on breathing and maintaining a situational awareness and direction. Each man had a dive watch with a built-in GPS navigation screen. It was a lot more than they’d had when they’d gone through BUD/S training.
With the only noise the sound of the DPV and his own breathing, Jacob had time to think about the mission ahead and the woman he’d left behind.
No, he didn’t have time to think about Casey the wedding planner. His entire focus should be on getting his friend out of harm’s way.
No matter how hard he tried, Jacob couldn’t erase the memory of her body pressed up against his. Her skin was buttery soft, her hair soft and silky where it had brushed his shoulder. And Lord, how tight she’d been as he’d slid inside her…
If he kept up that train of thought, he’d ram his DPV into Hank.
As they neared the shore, Hank slowed. Eventually, he ran up on the ground, secured the DPV between some boulders and straightened.
C-Note and Jacob emerged beside him and did the same.
All three men removed the weapons and equipment from the dry bags.
Once they had everything laid out, Hank looked up. “This is too tempting a strip of beach. There has to be a staircase leading up to the compound.” He nodded to Jacob and C-Note. “You two, recon. I’ll load the grappling hook on the launcher and wait for the others to surface.”
Jacob broke off to the right, while C-Note took off at a jog across the sand to the left.
The clear skies made it easy for them to see, but it would make it easy for the cartel to spot them, if they weren’t careful. Hugging the very base of the bluff, Jacob walked along the long stretch of beach until he’d almost come to the end where an outcropping of boulders blocked his path and ended the sandy haven. As he turned to head back, he saw indentations in the rocky face of the cliff. Rising at a gentle angle, the indentations formed steps, leading upward in a diagonal across the rocks with a cleverly disguised, short stone wall, indistinguishable by casual passersby who might bring their boats too close to the tempting stretch of sand.
The entrance to the narrow staircase had a wrought-iron gate blocking the path with a chain and lock to keep honest visitors honest, while discouraging those who might have less than noble intentions.
Jacob knew the staircase would be far quicker to ascend than using the grappling hook and ropes to get to the top. He hurried back to Hank.
Ringer, Trigger, Tuck, Pretty Boy, Cowboy, Viking, Boomer, Maddog and the two Deltas had come ashore, shed their dive gear and stacked it neatly in the shadows of the cliff.
Jacob hurried past the others, coming to a halt in front of Hank. “I found a hidden staircase.”
Hank grinned. “Thank God. I haven’t operated one of these launchers in a long time. Did you detect any motion-sensor cameras?” He pulled a coil of rope from the dry bag.
“No.” Jacob took a coil from Hank and slung it over his shoulder. “But that doesn’t mean there aren’t any tucked into the crevices.”
“We’ll have to risk it,” Hank said. “If we move quickly, they might not have time to react.” He handed another coil of rope to C-Note and took one for himself from the dry bags they’d brought with them.
Armed with AR-15 rifles, handguns and a few smoke grenades C-Note had acquired from an unknown source, they paused to check their communications equipment.
C-Note only had enough radio headsets for four: Hank, C-Note, Jacob and Maddog. Once they were ready, Jacob insisted on being point man. Hank followed, with C-Note bringing up the rear. They would stage the ropes they carried over the wall and down the cliffside in case they had to make a quick descent on their way out. Having all of them on the staircase would leave them too exposed.
Using the bolt cutter they’d brought with the other equipment, Cowboy cut the hasp on the lock securing the gate.
Jacob hustled up the steps, taking them two at a time, praying they’d get to the top before the alarm went off. Hawk had to be there, alive and well.
Clutching his rifle in his hands, Jacob edged around the corner.
Casey woke for a few moments to utter darkness. When she tried to move, she couldn’t. Whatever she lay on shook and bounced, sending stabbing pains through her head. She slipped back into oblivion.
When she woke again, someone had hold of her ankles, dragging her across a hard, cold surface. She’d been covered by some kind of heavy fabric. She was slid from beneath it and slung over a brawny shoulder. Unable to move her hands to balance and protect her face, her head bounced off the back of the man carrying her. Again, she passed out.
The next time she came to was when she was dropped on a hard floor, her back hitting first, her skull banging hard, sending shooting pain through her head, again. She opened her eyes and blinked back the gray fog threatening to consume her.
The ceiling above her wasn’t her apartment. The man who’d dropped her spoke to someone else in the room, but Casey couldn’t understand what he was saying. Through the pain in her head, she focused on the sounds. They weren’t speaking English. Spanish. A door opened, footsteps sounded, leading away, then a door closed, and the room became silent except for the sound of Casey’s heartbeats, pounding against her eardrums.
As her vision and her thoughts cleared, the memory of being attacked flooded her consciousness.
She tried to open her mouth to cry out, but something sticky and tight held her lips shut tight.
Kalea. Dear Lord. What had happened to Kalea?
Casey tried to sit up, but her arms were secured behind her, bound at the wrist by what felt like thick tape. When she moved her legs, they moved simultaneously, bound at the ankle much like her wrists.
A moan sounded behind her.
Casey rocked her body back and forth, and then rolled hard to her right, over her arms and onto her other side.
Kalea lay beside her, her eyes wide. She tried to say something, but her words only came out as a garbled hum behind the tape se
aling her mouth like Casey’s.
Casey rolled back to her other side, scooted, inched and slid across the cool ceramic tile until her fingers were close to Kalea’s face. With her hands bound, she couldn’t maneuver easily, so it took her a while to pull the tape from Kalea’s face.
Once it was off, Kalea gasped. “Oh, thank God. I was so worried about you after that asshole knocked you out.” She spoke in a whisper.
Casey started to roll back to face Kalea.
“Wait,” Kalea said. “Don’t roll over. Let me see if I can tear the tape away from your wrists with my teeth.”
Casey could feel Kasey moving around behind her, and then her friend’s nose pressed against the inside of her arm, and her teeth scraped her wrist.
It took Kalea several minutes of gnawing at the tape before Casey heard the sound of something ripping.
“There,” Kalea grunted. “I got it started. Hold on. Let me rip it some more.” She worked at the tape, tearing it away a tiny bit at a time. As she worked the tape loose, Casey could move her wrists more and more. Finally, she pulled them apart as hard as she could and the rest of the tape ripped open. Then she twisted and turned her hands until she worked one of them free. Bringing them around to the front of her body, she peeled the remainder loose and threw it to the side. Then she eased the tape off her face. “Kalea. Are you hurt?”
“Just bruised where they dumped me in the van and on the floor. I think I have a knot on my head, but nothing like you. Are you okay? You were out for a long time.”
“How long?” Casey asked as she fought to tear the tape away from her ankles.
“Long enough for them to get us past the border and into Mexico.”
Casey froze with her fingers on the end of the tape. “We’re in Mexico?”
Kalea nodded. “The bad news is that we’re in Mexico. The good news is that I think they brought us to where they’re holding Hawk. If we can get free, we might be able to get him out as well.”
“Jacob and Hank are supposed to be on their way to extract Hawk,” Casey unwound the tape from her ankles. “The cavalry is on the way, as long as they know we need rescuing, too.” When she was completely free, she slid across the tile to Kalea and tore at the tape on her wrists. When she couldn’t find the free end, she gave up and tore at the tape with her teeth like Kalea had done. Once she had a tear started, she was able to rip through the rest and free her hands.
She moved on to Kalea’s ankles. Together, they found the end and were able to unwrap the three layers of tape, one loop at a time.
As soon as they were free, Casey pushed to her feet, ignoring the aches and pains of having been tossed and thrown several times over the past hour or more. The pain was a welcome reminder that she was still alive and able to think and come up with a plan to get out of this mess.
She crossed to the only door leading into the room. Light shone through the cracks and beneath the door. Voices sounded beyond, all speaking Spanish.
“Do you understand what they’re saying?” Kalea asked.
“It’s too muffled. I can’t make out their words.” Casey pressed her ear to the panel and listened. “I hear several men and one woman.”
Kalea snorted. “Probably that witch, Camila. I’d like to get my hands on her and rip her apart.”
“You and me both.” Casey left the door. “Stand here and listen. Let me know if you hear anyone coming to the door. We’ll have to pretend we’re still bound and unconscious long enough for them to get close.”
Kalea nodded. “What are you going to do?”
“There has to be another way out of this room.” Casey felt along the wall, using the little bit of light coming from beneath the door. She stubbed her toe and banged her knee on something in her way and muttered a soft curse. When she bent to feel what it was, she discovered a small wooden table pushed up against the wall. It wasn’t very sturdy, with only narrow, spindly legs. Moving around it, she continued her fumbling perusal of the room and its contents. It didn’t take long. She didn’t find another door or window, but she did find a pile of rags and an old blanket. She rejoined Kalea at the door. “This is the only exit. The room must be a really small bedroom or a storage closet.”
“So, to get out, we have to go through here,” Kalea said, testing the knob. It didn’t turn. “It’s locked.”
“I don’t suppose you have a credit card or hairpin on you?” Casey asked.
“Nothing. My purse is back in your apartment,” Kalea said.
“Maybe we can pry open the door using one of the legs of the table I ran into.” Casey hurried back to the table against the wall. She flipped it over and wiggled one of the legs back and forth until it broke off.
Kalea abandoned the door and joined her. “Even if we can’t pry open the door, they have to come back sometime. We can use the table legs and the tabletop as weapons.”
“Good thinking.” Casey worked another leg loose, while Kalea broke off the other two. “The jagged ends will be good for spears.”
Kalea lifted the tabletop, weighing it in her hands. “And the tabletop would put a dent in someone’s head.”
They set their finds beside the door.
“We could use the blanket to throw over someone.” Casey hurried back to the pile of rags. “The door opens inward, so if they don’t see us where they left us lying on the floor, they have to enter to find us. We’ll be ready.
Kalea’s eyes widened, and she pressed her ear to the door panel. “Shh. I hear footsteps and voices coming this way.”
“I’ll throw the blanket over his head. You hit him with the table,” she whispered and stood to the side of the door with the doorknob.
Kalea lifted the tabletop over her head and stood on the other side of Casey.
The scrape of metal against metal indicated someone pushing a key into the lock.
Casey drew in a breath, raised the blanket in front of her and waited.
Chapter 11
When Jacob reached the top of the stone steps, he pushed through a clear, plexiglass gate onto a massive tiled deck, overlooking the ocean. A bright moon shone. He’d just stepped through when a man bearing a semi-automatic rifle stepped out of a sliding glass door. His attention was on the ocean, not the steps, the gate or the men easing up the steps in the darkness.
Jacob raised a closed fist and froze. Hank stopped behind him, and the rest of the men slowed their ascent.
The gunman walked to the wall and spit over the side.
Jacob eased across the tile, sneaking up on the man, hoping he didn’t turn until he was close enough to take him down.
When he was within six feet of the guard, the man turned back to the house and blinked, his brow puckering.
Jacob took advantage of the man’s momentary surprise and brought up the butt of his rifle in a lightning move, hitting the man in the chin and knocking him backward.
He stumbled and fell on his back.
Hank was on him in the next second, slamming the butt of his rifle into the man’s temple. He didn’t move.
Pulling zip-ties out of his back pocket, Hank rolled the man onto his belly and secured his wrists behind his back, then tied his ankles.
C-Note and Jacob dragged him into the shadows. Apparently, with the lights off on the deck, the people inside couldn’t see out. The odds were in their favor, so far.
With one gun-toting man down, Jacob was feeling more confident they were in the right place. It was highly likely they were in the presence of a drug cartel. Hopefully, the one that was holding Hawk.
All the men had made it to the top of the steps and onto the deck, hunkering down in the shadows thrown by the brilliant starlight.
C-Note stood at the nearest floor-to-ceiling window, peering inside. “There are six men inside, all armed, and one female,” he whispered into the mic. “Looks like our party crasher from McP’s.”
Jacob’s fists tightened around his weapon. Had he known Camila would have caused this much trouble, he’d have h
ad her arrested for assaulting him. Maybe she would have had to stay a couple of nights in jail. At least until after the wedding.
“Got two more men coming out of the hallway. There’s a man between them, dressed in a black tuxedo.”
“It’s Hawk,” Jacob said.
“Roger that,” C-Note said. “He’s struggling to be free, though his hands appear tied behind his back. They’re bringing him out into the room with the others.”
Maddog’s voice came in through Jacob’s headset, “Got a side door to the south.”
“What’s it to be, Hank? Go through the patio door or sneak around to the side door?” Jacob asked.
“With six guns pointed at Hawk, we might want to get half of us inside before they notice us,” Hank said. “Jacob, you and Maddog take some men around the side. Check out the front as well, before you commit to going in. Give me a headcount of bogeys and let me know when you’re ready to breach.”
“Roger.” Jacob grabbed Ringer, Trigger, Cowboy and Viking and headed around the side of the building. They met up with Maddog and spread out. Trigger and Cowboy stayed at the side door. Ringer, Maddog and Jacob continued around to the front of the building, Jacob on point.
As he neared the front of the structure, he slowed and eased his head around the corner.
Two men stood guard at the front entrance made up of a massive, arched double door. The concrete and stucco wall had a wrought iron gate that was closed for the night.
The guards at the front of the house walked out to the gate and spoke in Spanish to two more guards on the other side. One of them offered a guard on the outside a pack of cigarettes. The man took them, shook out two and handed back the pack.
A match illuminated the guard’s face as he lit his cigarette. He said something, laughed and returned to his post on one side of the gate. The other guard stayed to talk with the inside men for another moment before he lit his cigarette and went back to his post.
Jacob slipped back around the corner and spoke to the men with him and into his headset. “Two guards on the front door. Two more on the exterior gate. Maddog and Ringer, get over the wall and take the exterior guards. Viking and I have the doormen.”
