Freedom's Promise: Task Force 125

by Lisa Pietsch

  When they stormed into the study, Nikolai was nowhere to be found.

  Gunfire rang out upstairs.

  Vince and Will searched the room while Sarah watched the door but there was no sign of Nikolai anywhere.

  The mercs who had come in from the kitchen rushed through the hallway.

  “Any sign of Nikolai?” Anxiety pulled at Sarah’s stomach.

  “No. We got the guys upstairs but nobody resembling the Russian.”

  Will remained in charge. “You guys sweep the interior. Don’t forget the basement. We’ve got to get this guy before we go.” Will motioned to Vince. “Vince, Sarah, let’s get outside and see if they got him out there.”

  Sarah, Vince, and Will strode out the front door.

  The Blackhawk helicopter purred as it circled overhead.

  Will glanced up. “Eye in the sky, you see anybody get out?” He paused as Jason responded.

  “Just the old lady. Nobody else within two clicks, chief.”

  “All right, bring it down. It’s all clear.”

  Will looked at Vince and Sarah. “Are there any tunnels?”

  Sarah shook her head. “I never saw any, Will.”

  One of the mercs summoned Will from the house. “Hey, Chief! We got somebody here.”

  Sarah looked at the doorway and her heart sank when she saw who walked through it.

  Samara?

  “Fuck!” It was the first time Sarah had seen Will lose his composure through all of this.

  “Oh, God. He got away in her abaya.” Sarah ran to Samara. “Are you all right? Did he hurt you?”

  “He held a gun to me but I am fine. I am so sorry, Sarah.”

  Brian ran up to Samara. “Did he harm you?”

  She shook her head as tears streamed down her cheeks.

  Brian looked over toward Will. “We’ve got Vince, but Nikolai is a bust. I’m gonna get Samara a truck and send her home. She needs to get the hell out of here before the Saudi Air Force shows up.”

  As if on cue, Jason’s voice came through their earpieces. “We’ve got low flyers, two of them, six minutes out.”

  Will gave the sign to rally. “The Saudis are on the way! Move it out guys. Let’s go!”

  The mercs scrambled for the trucks and chopper according to the extraction plan Will had laid out for them.

  When Brian’s truck wouldn’t start, he and his crew jumped in one of the SUVs in the yard and hotwired it. The truck and SUV, both loaded with men, kicked up a trail of dust as they tore out of the compound.

  “Okay, boys. Want to see something special?” Jason, hovering above the scene in the Blackhawk, didn’t wait for an answer. He launched four hellfire missiles at the house and everything left in the compound was decimated.

  Sarah watched the smoke rise as they flew off at nearly two hundred miles per hour. She realized that leaving in the wake of an explosion, or at least a gunfight, was becoming a pattern in her life. Her first mission ended with a multi-million dollar yacht exploding. The second left a bullet riddled, blood stained mansion on the coast of Italy, and now a mansion reduced to smoke and dust.

  The helicopter arrived back at the Bedouin camp in minutes. The tents had been taken down and moved out by Brian’s cousins. Chris waited by the civilian chopper with his two merc bodyguards. Jason kept the Blackhawk running while Chris threw his bag in and jumped into a seat.

  Brian pulled up in a cloud of dust along with another truck full of the contractors. All of the hired men dropped their weapons in the back of the truck and scrambled into the civilian chopper that Brian was powering up.

  Sarah hadn’t seen him at the compound but Hamza was there. He hopped into the truck loaded with guns and drove like a bat out of hell toward the remote cave that would hide the truck and equipment from the Saudis until the heat was off.

  They hadn’t had any casualties, and Sarah crossed her fingers, hoping that they’d get both choppers out of Saudi airspace before they were spotted.

  Jason’s voice came through again on Sarah’s earpiece. “The Saudi’s have Blackhawks too, so let’s light a fire, kids.”

  Both choppers lifted off from the campsite.

  Brian flew the civilian chopper, loaded with well-paid mercenaries northeast, toward the cities, while Jason flew the Blackhawk carrying Guinea, Vince, Sarah, Will, and Chris southeast toward an empty corridor so they could fly back to the island without being seen. The air and sand blown by the low flying Blackhawk removed every trace of the tracks left by Hamza’s truck. He’d sleep in the cave until morning and then drive home in the truck loaded with guns, a bonus for his assistance.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  The morning after Vince’s rescue was almost like any other off-duty morning at Brian’s house in Las Vegas, only they were on Vince’s island off the coast of Dubai. Sarah crept into the empty kitchen. She’d gathered from the quiet house that she was the first one awake. She brewed the first pot of coffee and poured herself a cup, anxious to start her caffeine infusion. She took a quick sip and cursed as she burned the tip of her tongue. With Vince back, she had plans for that tongue. She closed her eyes and shivered at the delicious thought of making love to Vince again.

  She stood in silent bliss after her first good night’s sleep in over a week, reflecting on how well Will had handled the arrangements for the mercenaries they’d hired. If all went as planned, the men had been flown directly to the airport in Dubai after the operation and ushered onto a chartered jet. They would be flown directly to a small municipal airport in North Carolina and transported immediately to Sentrion headquarters where Brock Benjamin would debrief them. Knowing how agents and ex agents worked, Sarah assumed Brock would file the information in a special safe deposit box kept specifically for recording the details of secret contracts he’d either take to his grave or use to call in favors later.

  Sarah had slept easy the night before knowing Vince and their teammates were safe, though a tiny whisper at the back of her mind told her Nikolai was still out there and more dangerous than ever.

  Jason strolled into the kitchen wearing a tan T-shirt and brown canvas cargo shorts. The smile on his face told Sarah his night of destruction in the Blackhawk had been nearly as satisfying as getting laid, only without the awkward morning after. “So we’re meeting a spook with an official cover at his beach house in Dubai? Doesn’t this smell funny to anyone?”

  Sarah poured and Jason drank. It was a rhetorical question and she knew it. Mark Davidson had done them a huge favor and now wanted to see all of them at his beach house for a barbeque. It seemed too simple.

  Will chose that moment to appear and poured himself a cup. “Jason, do I have to remind you the man gave us the information we needed to pull Vince out of a very bad situation?”

  Vince ambled into the kitchen, battered but not broken. He grabbed a huge coffee cup with a gold U.S. Marines seal from the back of the cupboard. “Yeah, and I for one would like to know why.”

  Sarah filled it with coffee as he kissed her on the cheek. She set the pot back on the hotplate. “How are you feeling?”

  Vince set his cup on the counter, grinned, and wrapped his arms around her from behind. “Rested.”

  “How’s the rib?”

  “Tender but no real damage done.” He nuzzled her neck and kissed her earlobe before picking up his coffee.

  Relief washed over her, and she smiled as she thought about doing much more than just sleeping in Vince’s bed again. “Good.”

  Chris strolled in from outside through the back door off the kitchen. “I should have known you’d all be standing around the coffee pot.”

  Vince let go of Sarah and picked up his coffee. “Good morning, Chris. Make sure you pack your bug sweeping gear today. Gratitude doesn’t require trust.”

  “I just put it in the boat.” He wrinkled his eyebrows at Vince. “Don’t you ever take a day off?”

  “Soon.” He wrapped an arm around Sarah’s waist and pulled her close.

  Brian
strolled into the kitchen shaking his head. “Twenty-nine foot Rockit speedboat. Not a bad way to get around the coast, man.” There was mischief in his eyes when he smiled at Vince. “When we’re finished with Davidson, I’d like to take that baby out and open her up.”

  Vince took a long gulp of his coffee. “What’s mine is yours.”

  Brian winked at Sarah. “That’s good to know.” He made his way to the cupboard, retrieved a coffee cup, and then stopped to examine the bruises on Vince’s face. “Well, it’s a damned good thing you’re a spook, brother, because the camera would not like you today.”

  Vince turned his black eye toward Brian. “You don’t like it? The purple is on its way out. I think the green is coming in later today.”

  Brian poured himself a cup of coffee. “You look much better in monochrome.”

  Vince flashed a mischievous grin at Brian. “Oh, so you’ve been noticing how I look, have you?”

  “Don’t get any ideas. You ain’t lookin’ good. You’ve lost a lot of muscle. You look flat. The only good thing being drugged unconscious and not eating for a few days did for you was cut the extra body fat you put on eating all that pasta in Italy. You need to get back to heavy protein and good supplements if you want your muscle back.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  Jason set his cup down. “Okay, girls, enough beauty talk. Are we ready to get going?”

  Vince gulped his coffee in one chug. “Yeah, let’s go find out what this guy’s game is.”

  ~~~

  “Oh, man! It is great to see you!” Davidson seemed genuinely happy to see Vince. He shook his hand and then looked at Vince’s face. “If it weren’t for the black eye, I’d never be able to tell the difference between you and Rig.”

  Vince chuckled. “So that’s it. You know my brother?”

  “Rigatoni Hennessee! Biggest pain in the ass I ever met. Let’s get out of view.” Davidson motioned for everyone to follow him up the dock.

  Sarah whispered to Vince. “Rigatoni? Your parents named your brother after pasta?”

  “No.” Vince laughed. “His name is Anthony and our parents called him Tony, but we used to call him Rigatoni when we wanted to tick him off. The name stuck, and we shortened it to Rig when we got older. That’s what he goes by now.”

  Davidson ushered them into a magnificent coral-colored, stucco beach house.

  Buffy greeted them in a miniscule sundress that showed off her more than ample cleavage.

  Introductions were made and Buffy insisted they all make themselves comfortable.

  Vince shot Chris a glance and a nod.

  Chris opened a small minicomputer, tapped a few buttons and within seconds he gave Vince the ‘all clear.’

  Davidson took it in stride. “We had the house swept yesterday. Bugging is an occupational hazard in the State Department.” He led them into a large, sunny living room. “Come on in and have a seat.” Overstuffed chairs and sofas were arranged around a large, low coffee table.

  The furniture and the carpet were the same cream-colored beige. The only non-neutral color in the room was the foliage. Tropical flowers and plants were tastefully placed around the room. Large potted palm trees stood in the corners of the room like sentinels. Sarah could hear calypso music coming from everywhere but never saw a single speaker.

  Davidson retrieved a small humidor from a shelf and offered cigars as everyone sat in the cloudlike chairs. “I can’t think of a better reason to smoke a cigar.”

  Will and Vince each took a cigar.

  Sarah lit a cigarette while they trimmed and lit their cigars.

  Buffy flashed a brilliant smile. “What would everyone like to drink? I have margaritas by the pitcher and a full bar.”

  Davidson returned the humidor to its shelf and walked over to the large bar in the corner. “Vince, I’m guessing you like a nice Scotch with a cigar?”

  “That would be great.”

  Davidson gave his wife a playful pat on the ass before pouring the Scotch. “Anyone else?”

  Will perked up. “I’ll have some of that, Mark. The Scotch, that is.”

  Buffy blushed slightly as she carried a crystal pitcher of margaritas, a crystal ice bucket, and several glasses on a silver tray and set it down on the coffee table. Brian, Jason, Sarah, and Chris helped themselves.

  Once they’d all settled in with their cigars and drinks, Vince spoke. “Mark, I want to thank you for your help. You know the Agency’s policy on this sort of thing, and you took a real risk helping us out. I owe you for that.”

  “You don’t owe me anything. I’m just trying to pay back an old debt.”

  Vince shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

  “Then I’m going to tell you a story.” He sat back in his chair. “Way back in the day, your brother Rig and I were a couple of enlisted troops who both happened to land in Saudi Arabia on the very same day. He was hot for a lifting buddy to go work out with him and set his sights on me because we were both about the same build. I’d never lifted a weight in my life if I could help it.” He took a sip of his Scotch. “I hated the idea of working out and told him so. He wouldn’t take no for an answer and kept knocking on my door every day before our shift. I kept blowing him off. I must have told him to go to hell every day for two weeks straight before he finally wore me down.” Davidson shook his head. “He’s a persistent bastard.”

  Vince nodded in agreement. “That he is.”

  “So the day of our first workout, Rig and I were in the base gym when somebody parked a car bomb by the base fence. We heard the explosion and ran back to the barracks from the gym. When we got there, my room was gone.” Mark took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I mean there was no sign of it. The Khobar Towers had been blown to shit. If I had slept just a little later, I’d have been a stain on concrete rubble.”

  “Jesus.” Jason lit a cigarette.

  Davidson smiled and nodded. “I haven’t missed a workout since. Every time I walk into a gym, I remember that I owe that persistent, pasta-eating fucker my life.” He motioned to Vince. “No disrespect.”

  Vince shook his head. “None taken. He is a fucker, and he is persistent.”

  “So when I got the news about Vince, I had to do something. Helping you get out of the clutches of the Red Menace was my way of paying back a little. I’m just glad you guys knew how to put together a team and make it happen because my tactical knowledge is confined to military working dogs.”

  Will chuckled.

  Davidson raised an eyebrow at Will. “So did you manage to get all your houseguests off without any hassles?” He took a puff of his cigar, rolled it between his thumb and forefinger, and smiled at Will while he waited for an answer.

  Will mimicked Davidson’s mannerisms and smiled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We never had houseguests.”

  Something was understood among everyone in the room, and Sarah didn’t miss it either. Davidson was smart, loyal, had great intelligence connections, and was the kind of guy you wanted on your side in a fight. He wasn’t all about the Agency. He had the balls to take care of his friends and that was something they could all respect.

  Sarah had assumed Mark had been a career spy, but his last comment raised a question. She spoke up. “Mark, were you a dog handler too?” She looked from Mark to Buffy.

  “Yeah, twelve years.” He smiled up at Buffy who was perched on the arm of his chair. “I cross-trained and spent my last eight years in the Air Force in intelligence and then got a cushy office with the State Department.”

  Buffy smiled and rubbed her husband’s back. “Not a bad career path.”

  Davidson set his empty glass on the table and rested his cigar on the ashtray. “Now who wants ribs and who wants burgers?”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  A warm, happy feeling filled Sarah as she hung up the phone and made her way through the living room.

  Jason, Chris, Guinea, and Brian would be distracted for quite some time with the video game t
hey were playing.

  She walked upstairs to the gym and found Vince there, shirtless and sweating from his usual heavy workout.

  She leaned against the doorway. “We did it. Samara and Bashira arrived safely at the villa in Italy. They seem very happy with their cottage and start studying with their language tutor tomorrow.”

  Vince finished his lift and racked the bar. “Nice work, babe. You did a good thing.”

  “Bashira needed a new start someplace where being a victim isn’t a crime.” Sarah took a deep breath and wished she could do more to help women like Bashira. She had to be satisfied with the little bit she could do.

  Vince looked up from the bench he was lying on. “This isn’t a peep show, girl. You plan to exercise?”

  Sarah woke from her thoughts and walked over to Vince. She straddled him on the bench. “Hell, yeah, I plan to exercise. How do feel about some horizontal aerobics?”

  “Mmm.” Vince growled and pulled himself upright, wrapping his arms around Sarah. “There ain’t nothing horizontal in this room but this bench.”

  The sound of his growl set off a warmth and need between her legs. Desire overwhelmed her as her body responded to the hard length she was sitting on. “It is so good to have you back.” She ran her hands over Vince’s shoulders and eased her hips forward. She closed her eyes as a groan escaped her lips. “Do we have time?”

  “Baby, we always have time.”

  Look for Stealing Liberties, the next story in the Task Force 125 series, coming soon:

  Sasha toasted Vince’s good fortune and smiled the way he always did before launching into one of his tall tales.

  Vince chuckled. “What’s it going to be this time?”

  Sasha glowed. “So my friend who usually flies arms and ammunition picks up three passengers at an old air base outside Moscow. They pull up in an armored Mercedes and out come two big American brutes and this knockout brunette with green eyes. They have no luggage but they’re all packing under their jackets. You know?”

  Vince nodded and took a sip of his drink.