Burning Bridges
A Bobbie Bridger Novel
Heath Stallcup
Contents
Author’s Note
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
From the desk of Heath Stallcup
About the Author
Also by Heath Stallcup
Also From DevilDog Press
Customers Also Purchased
Burned Bridges
©2020 Heath Stallcup
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living, dead, or otherwise, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or unauthorized use of the material or artwork contained herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the author or Devil Dog Publishing.
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Printed in the U.S.A.
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Editor Sheila Shedd
Cover Artist Jeffrey Kosh
Created with Vellum
For my cousin Denise “Deputy Burress,” who thought Bridger sounded hot and needed his own stories. And my other cousin, Terri, who urged me to make it a series.
I hope I do your faith justice.
Author’s Note
I’m so hesitant to continue these stories of Bobby Bridger. While I love the character and think that there’s unlimited untapped potential, I still question my ability to pen anything that is outside of horror.
I loved who he was in Whispers, and I enjoyed playing him with and against my gun-toting buddies in Flags, but to break him out into this world? I suppose time (and the reviews) will tell.
Welcome to the world of subterfuge, politics and covert operations.
Prologue
“Every time a major leader, head, chieftain, of any sort of transnational criminal organization—but perhaps especially, violent narco-trafficking organizations—gets taken out of the game...there is a vacuum that’s created, and nature abhors a vacuum.” —Peter Vincent, US Justice Department liaison to the US embassy, Colombia, 2006-09, as told to Business Insider.
* * *
Medellin, Colombia, 1998
* * *
The flimsy wooden door of the adobe brick house flew open and bounced off the exterior wall as Lisa Vasquez hit the ground and rolled. She quickly came to her feet and keyed her coms, “We’re blown!”
Bullets whizzed past her or erupted into the ground along her path as she darted behind ancient farm equipment and scattered drums. “Bravo! Bravo! I need exfil! NOW!”
She pulled the Beretta 9MM from her thigh holster and chambered a round as the shooting died down and the men following her reloaded. Lisa popped up from behind the barrels and leveled the front sight on the lead man. She planted two quick rounds to his chest before pointing the front blade at the next man.
The three men still standing jumped to the side and rolled in the dirt, hoping to evade her shots, and she followed each with the barrel of her weapon. “Condor, do you copy?” she yelled over the bark of the pistol. “I need exfil, NOW!”
“Chopper en route, Sparrow. Backup is on the way.”
“They’d better hurry!” She fired two more rounds at her pursuers then ducked behind the barrels again. She patted her thighs and pulled one of her spare magazines. Gripping it tightly, she held the pistol over the edge of the barrels and fired blindly.
“Three mikes.” Gregg Soares’ voice sounded tinny over the coms and she risked a quick look. “You might want to find cover, Sparrow.”
“Ya think?” she yelled as more rounds thumped against the metal barriers. “Alert Mario. He may be walking into a trap.”
“Done and done, Sparrow.” Gregg’s voice took on an edge as he continued, “Be advised that Bridger and Mauk are with him.”
Lisa ground her teeth as she slammed the fresh magazine into the grip of the pistol. “Dammit.” She popped up from her cover and took quick aim as bullets whizzed by her head. She dropped one more of the men and the remaining two quickly turned and ran back for cover behind the main building.
She stood and stared at their retreating forms. “Yeah, you better run, you sons of—”
The smoke trail that remained overheard was the only visible evidence of the ordinance fired at the building. Lisa was knocked back by the concussion and couldn’t hear the chopper blades as the craft set down just south of her position.
She moaned as she came to her feet and shook her head, hoping to put the marbles back into their proper place. The ground around her became shadowed and she turned to look up as DJ White extended a hand. “I hear you need a lift?”
She gripped his arm and quickly pulled herself up. “We need to stop Mario.”
DJ practically dragged her back to the chopper and held the forward cabin door open as she crawled inside. She quickly donned her headset and keyed the coms. “We have to stop Mario now. He’s headed into a trap.”
Rob Wilcott gave her an award winning smile. “Gregg’s on it.” He turned his head and watched as DJ clipped the tether to his waist before they lifted off.
“Bertha is manned.” DJ slapped the side of the 35MM door mounted machine gun. “Take us in.”
Rob tilted the yoke and the craft seemed to slide down the face of the mountain, engine revving as the rotary wing craft descended over the dense vegetation.
“Get us there in one piece, Wolly.” Lisa yelled as she gripped the “oh shit” handle.
“Time is of the essence, darlin’.” Rob shot her a toothy grin. “If we’re gonna pull Mario’s fat from the fire, we need to hustle.”
Lisa adjusted the radio and called Gregg. “Please tell me you got through.”
Gregg’s voice sounded hurried as he replied. “I did, but it may be too little, too late.” She felt her heart drop when he came back. “They’re under fire.”
“Tell him we’re on the way!” DJ yelled as he charged Bertha.
“We’re en route!” Lisa yelled over the whine of the engine. “Tell the boys to hold on.” She glanced at Rob. “We can make it, can’t we?”
Rob shrugged. “We’ll make it or die trying.” He pushed the old military chopper as hard as he dared, then pushed her a bit harder. He quelled the alarms as they sounded and tried to ignore the warnings.
DJ slapped the bulkhead separating the cockpit from the cargo hold. “Follow the smoke!”
Lisa’s eyes scann
ed the horizon and she saw the black wisps slowly rising. She pointed to the right and Rob angled his approach. “I see it.” He flipped the main battery to hot and zeroed in on the area. “I only got one ATS left.”
Lisa gripped his arm and shook her head. “We don’t have a bearing on the boys.”
Bertha came alive behind them and DJ was yelling as he adjusted his aim, following the tracers imbedded in the chain of cartridges. Lisa keyed her coms, “Stand down! We don’t have a twenty on our people!”
DJ gave her a duh look. “Red smoke!” He turned his attention back to the rapidly approaching battle zone and opened fire again.
Lisa’s head spun around and she sat up in her seat, her eyes searching for the marker. She felt the corners of her mouth curl into a slow grin as the craft passed over the red column of smoke and Rob loosed the air to surface missile.
The craft banked to the left and Rob brought it into a clearing less than a hundred yards from the marker. As the skids tapped the ground, two men rushed from the thick canopy of green and bolted for the chopper.
Lisa’s smile slowly faded and she stared at them. “Where’s Mario?” Panic began to rise in her chest and she reached for Rob’s arm again. “Where’s MARIO!?”
Rob shook his head as the two men dove into the cargo hold. “Go, go, go!” Bridger slapped the bulkhead and Rob lifted the chopper from the ground.
Lisa practically scrambled out of her seat and crawled to the opening in the bulkhead. “Where’s Mario?”
Mauk met her gaze and his face fell. He gave a slight shake of his head. “He didn’t make it.” He glanced at Bridger then averted his gaze. “They put two in his chest before we made our escape.”
Lisa fell back and slid into her seat. She stared at the lush greenery that zipped by underneath them, her mind unable to comprehend the loss. She turned her gaze to Rob and fought the tears that formed. “Wolly, tell me we can go back for him…”
Rob Wolcott reached out and gripped her hand. “I’m sorry, darlin’. It’s too hot down there.”
She ripped the headset off and twisted in her seat. She turned away from the other team members and tried to remain numb, but the tears flowed.
“What the hell happened out there?” Matt Laughlin glared at Bridger as the group walked through the door.
Bobby opened his mouth as Mauk stepped between the two. “We were outed.”
“Outed? By who?” Matt bellowed. “We’ve been following all the traffic and—” He spun quickly and pointed at Gregg. “Soares, we have been following the traffic, haven’t we?”
Gregg nodded and leaned back in his chair. “Definitely.”
“Then how could this have happened?”
Bridger held a hand out and stopped Mauk from pushing forward and doing something stupid. “Murillo invited us in and presented a wooden box to Mario. He said it was a birthday gift.”
“Gold and silver Colt .45 automatic,” Mauk growled.
Bridger nodded. “He pulled it out of the box and pointed it right at Mario. The two were laughing as Murillo pulled the trigger.”
“He put two in his chest then the shit hit the fan,” Mauk muttered. “I don’t think his own men knew what he was about to do.”
Bridger tossed his pack to the table. “We were lucky to get out alive. If it hadn’t been for Wollychop showing up when he did…”
“Death from above, that’s my motto.” Rob hopped up and sat on the cooler along the wall, waiting for the shit to run downhill.
“This isn’t good,” Matt groaned as he fell into his chair. “We spent two years getting Mario imbedded with Murillo’s people.”
“Speaking of…” Bridger stepped forward and looked down at the smaller man. “We’ve run a ton of sorties out of that jungle. Where did all the coke go?”
Matt looked up at him and shook his head. “What difference does that make? The company impounded it and sent us the cash to keep Murillo’s people stupid.” He slowly came out of his chair. “Even the loads that didn’t make it to the mainland, we paid for.” He narrowed his gaze at the operator. “What are you implying?”
Bridger snorted. “I’m not implying anything.” He made his way around the table and eyed Mauk as he passed him. “We’ve run a ton of coke out of this place and passed a shit ton of money to that madman. We’ve also run a half dozen operations to kill off the people who work for him.”
“And?” Laughlin’s gaze narrowed.
“And?” Bridger crossed his arms over his thick chest. “Why the hell haven’t we removed Murillo? God knows we’ve had the opportunity.”
Matt shook his head. “It wasn’t authorized.” His voice was barely a whisper.
“Fuck authorization.” Lisa stepped forward and began pointing at his chest, her finger driving harder with each poke. “If you had given the green light to remove that piece of shit the first chance we had, Mario would still be alive!”
Matt grabbed her hand and pulled it away from his chest. “I’m sorry about Mario.” His eyes rose and met the others. “I really am. He was a good man and a damned fine operator.” He let her go and stepped away. “But even I have to follow orders.”
“Were you following orders when Mario told us that there were women and children in that car?” Bridger turned and eyed Laughlin. “We told you that the mark wasn’t in the vehicle and you had us blow it anyway.”
Matt shook his head. “I was told—”
“It doesn’t matter what you were told,” Bridger interrupted. “The target wasn’t in the vehicle and you knew it…but you ordered the kill anyway.” He fought the urge to swear. “Whose order was it to follow through?”
Matt shook his head, his face puzzled. “I don’t follow you.”
“Were you obeying the agency’s order or the cartel’s?”
Matt’s eyes widened and he came to his feet. A vein in his forehead popped out and his face began to redden. “You’re over the line, Bridger!”
Bobby snorted and gave him a sardonic smile. “This is Colombia, Matt. There are no lines except what people snort.”
Matt set his jaw and squared his shoulders. “Pack your shit, cowboy. You’re history.”
Bobby slowly nodded. “Good luck finding another operator willing to work with you.” He reached out and slapped at Mauk’s shoulder. “Grab your gear. We’re out of here.”
Mauk growled at the CIA station chief as he scooped up his duffle. “I will catch you later.”
Lisa shook her head as she spun and fell into step behind the men. Matt stiffened. “Where the hell are you going?”
She spun and flipped him the bird. “I go where they go.”
Gregg sighed and shut the lid on his Fieldworks FW-7500 computer. “You coming?” he asked Rob.
Wolcott slid off of the cooler he was sitting on and held the door for DJ. “Something tells me we’re going to play hell filing for unemployment.”
“Where do you think you’re going?” Matt barked.
Rob spun and gave him a shrug. “What can I say? We’re a team.”
Matt marched to the door and jerked it open. “You’ll never work in intelligence again, Bridger! You hear me? You’ll never…” his voice trailed off as he watched the last of them climb into the helicopter.
“Fuck me.” He slammed the door. “That’s my chopper.”
1
Present Day, Wood County, TX
* * *
“Have a seat.” Sheriff Scott Evans pointed to the chair and set his coffee cup down on the table. “You acknowledge that you’re here of your own volition, correct?”
Bobby Bridger pulled the metal chair out and sat in it slowly, his eyes taking in the video camera mounted near the ceiling. “Is this really necessary Scott? You know—”
“That was a yes or no question.” Scott dropped the folder on the table and stared at Bobby stoically.
Bridger inhaled deeply and blew it out slowly. “Yes, I acknowledge that I came in of my own volition.” He returned the stare and watc
hed as Scott sat down across from him. He noted that he didn’t leave his sidearm outside of the interrogation room and wasn’t sure how to read that fact. Was Scott comfortable enough with him that he knew he could skip protocol or did he honestly feel that he was a threat and that he might need the weapon?
Bobby decided not to test him to find out.
Scott went through the documents in the folder and slowly shook his head. “You left a heap of bodies in your wake, son.” He looked up at Bridger and leaned back in the chair. “You mind telling me just what in the living hell happened out there?”
Bobby sighed and lowered his eyes. “That’s why I’m here, Scott.”
“Then you might want to get to it.” He reached across the table and clicked the recorder on. “Let’s start at the beginning.”
North Texas, Six Weeks Prior
* * *
It had been like any other Tuesday. The winter winds were blowing, the sun was shining, the birds were doing bird things and Bobby Bridger was enjoying being back in civilization.
He had accepted a position with Baba Yaga International, working with old friends and making new ones. He was actually happy to be out in the world again, instead of hiding in a hole in the ground and being paranoid.
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