Counter Strike

by Beth Rhodes

  But still Malcolm didn’t return to the call.

  Instead of hanging up, she put the phone on speaker and kept her hands busy in the kitchen.

  “Missy?”

  “I’m still here.”

  “We have a situation.”

  Tears pushed up against her eyelids. “Okay. What do you need me to do?”

  “We’re waiting on a call back. Hawk is in contact with Marie. She’s reporting the clinic has been taken.”

  “By someone with guns,” she asked, exasperated by his calm.

  He cleared his throat. “Right, sorry. Hawk has men on the way now, and Jamie’s very good at calming tempers and keeping his cool. Marie will update us as soon as she can, but it could be a while. We’re sending Kiana Johnson down to you in Belize.”

  “Who? Why?” Missy frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  “She’s going to stay with you until the team gets out of Colombia. Then, we’ll all meet at The Shack, for an AAR. Okay?”

  “He’ll think this is his fault. He was already nervous about taking lead.” Missy bit at her lip. She didn’t care about herself. “I don’t need anyone.”

  “Listen, Missy. You’ll want someone there. It’s better this way—”

  “This was supposed to be safe. A medical supply drop.” Hysteria began to build again.

  Malcolm’s silence said more than his words, but he gave her consideration. “You know as well as I do that this world—everywhere—is dangerous. You’ve been with Jamie and Hawk Elite long enough to understand.”

  A tear finally slipped out, and she nodded, cleared her throat, and then spoke, “I know.”

  But something inside of her wasn’t okay. She was sick of it, sick of it all.

  “I’ll call you back,” he promised.

  She was going to go crazy, for sure. “Thanks, Malcolm.” She paused. “Do we know who—?”

  “No. Not yet.”

  The disconnect as they both hung up settled into her soul. She’d kept her distance from Jamie’s work. He’d probably been almost killed before—many times. Injuries did happen on the team.

  She sat at the table with her laptop. She’d given up her passion for journalism and photography, but for the first time in a long time, the itch to write, to reveal a truth raced through her.

  What if Jamie never comes home?

  She’d jumped into a pool of sharks and been called kick-ass.

  Maybe this was her turn to be brave, to have her say and make a freaking point.

  Her fingers raced over the keyboard, and she found herself in her email. With only a slight hesitation, she clicked on the name Andrea. The profile of a friend—from so long ago—popped on her screen. What was Andrea doing now? Did she still have connections at the paper?

  It was time to find out.

  Chapter Six

  Antonio froze behind his desk, his gaze on the computer screen to his left. He always had the news and social media sites running in the background, keeping him in touch with the world. He scanned through them now and stopped short at the sight of the young lady, a thumbnail image on a Youtube video.

  Her face. Jesus, her face. Like seeing a ghost. The long dark hair with streaks of light brown. Still the same, after all these years. Yet, she’d aged. No longer the bright-eyed, innocent eighteen-year-old. He’d grieved over her…

  He paused, rewound, and started the Youtube video again.

  Not dead.

  Anger rose inside him and turned over in his chest. “Mama.”

  I can get you out of here, she’d said. Because she’d done it before. For her granddaughter.

  Antonio picked up his hat. “Juan!” he called. “Get me a car.”

  “Sir, you have a meeting with Martinez in ten minutes.”

  Even though he hesitated to miss it, he shook his head. “I can’t. Tell him something came up. Reschedule for whatever is convenient for Martinez.”

  “Yes, sir.” Juan didn’t sound convinced, and he had every right to be concerned, but this was too big for him to put off, for even a second.

  Antonio took off, not slowing until he reached the turn for his mother’s. He skidded to stop in front of the porch, shut off the engine, and jumped out of the car. Without knocking, he opened the door. “Mama!”

  Silence met his call.

  The kitchen was empty and so was her bedroom. He went out the back door and walked to the garden. His mom was bent over a row of squash, the large leaves keeping the fruit protected. Her hands were dirty, her hair a flyaway mess.

  He’d told her he would take care of her, so she didn’t have to do this anymore.

  But she’d rather do this than be indebted to him.

  The door slammed behind him.

  She glanced up, her eyes going wide. “Antonio. Another surprise visit?”

  He didn’t smile back. “What do you know about my niece?”

  “Marguerite?”

  “Yes, don’t play coy with me. She is alive.”

  Mama gasped, as if still trying to play innocent. He wasn’t buying it anymore. He glared.

  She cleared her throat, a telltale blush rising on her neck. “What happened?” she asked.

  “She is on the internet, speaking out against terrorism and violence—in Colombia and in Mexico.”

  His mother quickly took off her gloves and, with her old shuffle, walked by him to the house.

  “Mama,” he called out sharply, making her stop and turn, her face ashen with the knowledge. “If you know something, you better tell me now. I will not be able to hide this from Martinez. He will know, and he will find her.”

  “She was okay?”

  “She looks just like her mother—beautiful—a dead ringer! And she is full of fire to right a wrong. Also just like her dead mother and father!”

  Mama groaned and rolled her eyes before she turned and went into the house.

  Antonio followed. He would need to protect his mother, and now his niece, too.

  But even more, perhaps now was time to turn the tables—on Martinez.

  ***

  “No one wants to get shot. If it’s drugs you want, you can have them,” Jamie said to the German. No trouble, no problem. He had plans to go home—nothing was going to stop him.

  “No way,” Joys disagreed as he came through the door, finally showing his face after tempers had calmed.

  But no Sister Helen. Maybe she was with Marie.

  “Yes, he can,” Jamie said again.

  Joys held his tongue, but a scowl furrowed his brow. The gaze he sent the tall German man was hard with hatred. Too hard. And the bad feeling in Jamie’s gut fluttered again.

  “I’m looking for the doctor,” the German said.

  “I’m your doctor,” Jamie answered, not wanting Joys to have any control in this cluster.

  “Nein.”

  One of the thugs sent a rifle butt to the back of Jamie’s head. Pain exploded behind his eyes, and the floor rushed up to meet him.

  “Bring me the doctor,” the German ordered.

  “I’m Doctor Joys,” Joys said, sounding almost petulant.

  Jamie pushed himself up off the floor and sat. He rubbed the back of his head and checked for blood. Joys glared at the tall German.

  Yup. Jamie sent his gaze from the doctor back to the German.

  Joys glanced his way and shrugged. “He’s looking for his daughter.”

  “You know each other.” Jamie knelt, palms down, and stood up, fighting against dizziness.

  “No. But I took a guess.”

  The German frowned. “Bring her to me.”

  “I’ll get her,” Jamie answered. He didn’t need the German going back into the house any further and discovering Marie or the nun. “What’s her name?”

  “Helen,” the man said, and after a small hesitation, “I will come with you.”

  Damn. Jamie stopped and turned. “Helen,” Jamie repeated, as another puzzle piece fell into place. “Helen. As in Sister Helen, the nun?”
r />   The man frowned. “Not a nun. My daughter.”

  Jamie glared at Joys. “What the hell, Doc?”

  Joys cleared his throat. “It’s not what you think.”

  “Well, shit,” Luke said, from his spot, leaning against the foosball table. “I think she ain’t no nun.”

  Jamie, followed by the German, did a room-by-room search of the clinic. All the children were brought to the front room. The clinic guards who had helped unload the medicines stayed close, their loyalties to the doctor and his mission obvious. Nothing bad was going to happen to those kids.

  Joys, on the other hand, had a lot to answer for.

  “Effing Sister,” Jamie muttered.

  She was nowhere to be found.

  But, then again, neither was Marie.

  By the time they returned to the front room, the German’s face was red, his hands clenching, and he walked directly over to Joys and sent a jab to his face. The doctor slipped the punch but took a hit in his side. The German pointed a gun in his face.

  Joys stopped, blew out a breath, and put his hands up. Survival was an even better motivator than love. “I don’t know where she is, I swear.”

  “You have one hour to get her back here. Or I will start shooting people.”

  “Please, you don’t have to do this. She wants to be here. Helen is happy here.”

  Jamie counted to ten in his head—patience. They were being held hostage in Colombia over a runaway woman—possibly a nun. “Is she a nun or not?” he asked Joys.

  “No, geez, what do you take me for?”

  Jamie clenched his teeth. “You don’t want to know.”

  Craig spoke from his spot on the floor, “How old is she?”

  Joys straightened his spine. “She’s nineteen. Completely legal.”

  A child, for the most part. Jamie sighed. He’d faced terrorists, drug dealers, mobsters…never a dad over a kid, though. Sort of terrifying, actually.

  He wasn’t going to let his team be killed because of this doctor and his young lover. “No offense, Joys. No one is going to die today. Get her back here before people get really mad.”

  The German nodded in agreement, crossed his arms over his chest, and harrumphed with a glare for the doctor. “Me and you will get along just fine,” he said to Jamie.

  Not that Jamie was interested in making an alliance. But maybe the delay of finding Sister Helen—just Helen—would give Hawk time to get someone in here for when things went south, which he had no doubt they would.

  “What about the other woman? Maybe Helen is with her?” Joys spoke, like the idiot he seemed to be, revealing their ace in the hole.

  Frustration grinded through him. For as long as Jamie could pull strings, Joys would never get help from Hawk Elite again.

  “What woman?” the German asked—of course—because he wasn’t an idiot. He turned to look at Jamie.

  Jamie shrugged. Fuck. “I don’t know where they are, or I would call them back.”

  The German turned, aimed his handgun in the direction of Jamie’s team—

  “No!” Jamie threw himself at the tall man, at the same time as the shot rang out.

  The bullet slammed into the wall, slicing through Craig’s arm first. “Fudge,” Craig moaned. “My lucky day.”

  Jamie’d had enough; his temper spiked. Getting his feet under him, he scrambled over the German’s large form, and lunged for the doctor. He slammed a fist into Joys’ face. Calm and cool, be damned. The doctor had jeopardized the entire mission with his stupid-ass secret love life.

  Someone strong pulled him away from the doctor and bound him, hands behind his back and feet tied together, and tossed him to the corner.

  The German gathered himself, approached, and leaned over Jamie. “You, I like. Call the woman back. Get her in here with my daughter.”

  “Gonna be hard to do all tied up like this.”

  The German scowled and picked up the phone from the table. He handed the phone to Tancredo, who took it with a look over in Jamie’s direction.

  Jamie gave him the passcode.

  He swiped around and then lifted the phone to his ear. “Marie, we need you back here.” His silence as Marie spoke went on too long, and the German’s frown indicated the same kind of intuition. “How far out are you?”

  Tancredo kept his gaze on the German.

  “Bring Sister Helen—no, Craig was hit. He needs treatment—” He quieted, listening to Marie then, “Bring her in. No one is going to hurt her,” Tan said

  Just when Jamie started to think the German was going to intervene and possibly take the phone, Tan hung up. “They’ll be here in an hour.”

  “Now,” the German said.

  Tan coughed, sounding weak, and shrugged. “I’m getting them here as quickly as I can. They worked their way north, through the jungle. Caught a ride on the back road within ten minutes of leaving.”

  The German called two of his men over. “Go out in the truck and meet them. Bring them in.”

  Marie would evade, if possible. If not—they’d deal with if not when the time came. He didn’t like it. But at least for now, tensions were low. The German wanted to confront his daughter. Hopefully that meant no one else would get hurt.

  “How you doing, Craig?”

  “Luke’s got me patched up. Could use a drink, maybe.”

  “Got a beer with your name on it as soon as we’re out of here.”

  Craig didn’t answer, just set his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. Pain etched into the lines on his face.

  “Luke?”

  “I’d like a drink with my name on it as well, boss,” Luke said.

  Jamie chuckled. “Got it.”

  They were all hot. Sweat poured down their faces. The humidity in this country was enough to suffocate a fish. And the longer they waited, the more likely it was for tempers to flare. “Shouldn’t be long now,” he reassured his team.

  He might not be Hawk, but he knew Marie. Marie wasn’t coming back alone. Because Tan hadn’t been talking to Marie, he’d been talking to headquarters.

  And Hawk had someone coming.

  That sounded like a good end to this crazy night.

  Chapter Seven

  Missy paced her living room. She checked her watch. Another hour passed. The new girl at Hawk Elite, Kiana, sat on the couch, tapping and swiping away at her phone. Hawk had wanted someone with her. And Malcolm would come here when he wrapped up his current project in Portland—another day, at most.

  There was absolutely no good reason to make sure a person wasn’t alone! Her stomach turned. “What are they saying now?” Stay positive. Her eyes stung from lack of sleep. Maybe she shouldn’t be so irritated, but the silence, no word from anyone, was hard to take.

  Kiana glanced up. “They want to know if Fickle gets one can of tuna or two for dinner.”

  Missy frowned, her brain too slow, too fogged. “What?”

  Kiana waved her phone. “My room mates.”

  “Oh, oh.” Muscles in her back and legs were still tight from the tension of that original call. She flinched as the sound of that gunshot blasted through her mind—again.

  “Hey.” The pretty young woman smiled at her. “I’m joking. It’s going to be okay. I’ll tell you as soon as Hawk contacts me. Maybe you should get some sleep.”

  Missy shook her head; she couldn’t sleep if she wanted to. She’d heard Jamie talking. He’d been alive. It was the only reason she’d been able to keep from completely losing it. He would keep his team alive…

  At the expense of his own life, if necessary.

  Cold shot through her veins. Time moved like molasses.

  With clenched fists, she headed to the kitchen.

  In order to keep busy, distract herself, she pulled out a sauté pan and set it on the stove.

  A knock on the door had her groaning. The reporters needed to stop, for crying out loud. So what that her video went viral? A million views since yesterday. It made her stomach hurt. Jamie wo
uld be so mad, if he knew.

  She’d never intended for her words to make such an impact. Hell, she avoided the internet—the world-wide-web. Didn’t even have a Facebook account. This was why.

  Her video had been snatched up by fate and thrown to the world.

  She’d meant every word.

  “I’ll get it,” Kiana said as she crossed to the door with Missy following her.

  Before Kiana could get ahold of the knob, the door flew open. Missy froze in her tracks as a man came in and sent Kiana ass over end into the bookshelf behind the door. She crumpled and lay still.

  Missy turned to run.

  “¡Detener!”

  Without thinking, she stopped and turned slowly.

  A shorter man, with a scarred, pale face stepped out from behind the tall, dark mean-looking man and waved the big guy down. The tall guy lowered his gun, but kept it engaged.

  “Lo siento,” the shorter man said, coming toward her.

  Panic flared in her gut.

  He lifted his hands in a sign of surrender as if sensing her distress. She kept her gaze on the tall guy with his gun—the bigger threat.

  “What do you want?” she asked, speaking English, remembering the lessons Jamie had taught her about how to blend in. She was a Belizean now, not a Mexican. “Who are you?”

  The pale-faced man grinned, stopping her cold. Jesus, she knew that smile.

  She stared, unable to form a thought or emotion. Should she be happy? No. She was scared. “Tio Antonio?”

  The familiar smile softened. “You remember. That is good, because I need you to come with me.”

  She shook her head, but the tall guy frowned and raised his gun again.

  “I’m afraid, you don’t have a choice, sobrina.”

  “You’re going to kidnap me?”

  “I’ve come to take you home,” her uncle said, sounding so reasonable. But his thug didn’t stand down. Tio Antonio waved the other guy back. “Quédate aquí. Vigilas.”

  The man went back through the door without a word, without closing it behind him.

  Antonio sighed. “Go pack a bag, Margarita. We need to take a trip, back to Mexico.”