Furiously considering options, Night noted the large columns partially covering the two guards, while Ravini stood far enough out from the makeshift wall for him to hit. He would have to break the glass, put down a hail of bullets, which would still not leave him enough time to save Loco. A bitter taste entered his mouth as his stomach clenched. He gripped the barrel of the rifle and prepared to bang the butt end against the glass, hopefully shattering it quickly in order to give him the tiny opportunity he needed.
Just as the older man began to squeeze the trigger, loud pops sounded, bullets ripped through the ceiling tiles, pummeling into Ravini and sending him crashing to the expensive marble floor. The shorter Hispanic men at his sides fell just as quickly, their weapons dropping harmlessly. Blood splattered and stained the formerly glossy white floors, the raw carnage leaving no doubt they were dead.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Night watched Loco snatch up his rifle and continue on, pausing for a moment to give a short salute to the ceiling. Lark. He owed her big time.
Checking his watch, Night yelled for a retreat, setting explosive charges as he went. Nothing could remain of this structure or another man would step up to the plate, taking Ravini's place within days, using the guards and computer systems already in place, making the whole transition seamless and way too easy. In order to stop this bunch, they had to destroy anything and everything associated with Ravini. Sure, other drug lords could and would move in on his business, but at least this head of the mythological hydra would be severed forever.
Bursting out the back door, he hollered at Lark in Lakota, urging her to get out of the vent system immediately as the timer ticked down. Shadows began to emerge from the structure, one by one, each identifying themselves with a code name as they headed toward the pre-set rendezvous.
Dillon would keep an eye out for tails or hunters, protecting their backs as they worked to leave just as quickly as they came.
Cussing to himself, Night frantically scanned for Lark, watching for a small-framed female to appear from an exit, any exit. His breathing escalated as he hurried to put space between him and the building. "Lark. Get out now! If I have to go back in there and drag your ass out…"
"Coming. Damn it," she answered in English in between pants. A moment later, she flew out the cave entrance, well out of range of any flying debris.
A huge explosion rocked the area, the ground trembling under the power. Chunks of the fortress flew through the sky, falling to the earth like pumpkin placed in a catapult. The walls gave before the whole building collapsed upon itself, sending a huge cloud of dust rising into the air.
* * * *
"Damn, I'm beat." Cale stretched out his long legs in the cramped quarters of the middle row in the SUV.
Dillon wiped at his eyes. "That so wasn't pretty. A stealth bombing would have been tons better."
Night shook his head, agreeing with Dillon for once. Trudging into a cobra's hole after the vile creature proved dirty, difficult, and downright deadly. He hated to do it himself and even more to put his men through that. Someone had to do it, but the next nasty drug lord he would gladly leave to another team.
He'd checked each and every one of his team members, ensuring they were unhurt before they'd all climbed back into the rental vehicle and headed for home. They looked a bit ragged but none the worse for wear despite the action and close calls. Even Lark seemed to be fine, her black clothes nearly gray with dust from the ventilation system.
"I have something for you." He pulled out the laptop and flash drives, passing them back to her.
She took them with a small grin. "My supervisor will be singing your praises for a month of Sundays." He watched as she methodically stuffed each one into her backpack with steady hands. If adrenalin rode her hard, he couldn't see it.
"By the way, nice work back there." She'd impressed him more than once, holding her own and then some, thinking for herself and essentially saving Loco in the process. He'd worked with many people less capable than she. Not many combined her skills, intelligence, and bravery in a compact package.
Her face colored with the compliment. "Thanks."
"It would have helped if you spoke Navajo, though. Lakota worked, but it took too damn long for me to translate." He bit the inside of his cheek, wanting to see her reaction before he let on about the teasing.
She snorted, curling up in the backseat. "I do believe your page of Navajo words lacked the ones I needed. In retrospect, I don't recall the majority of them being of any assistance in that particular situation. I figured they employed someone that spoke German and English, which left me with Lakota."
"Hey. She nailed Ravini and his thugs cleanly through the ceiling tiles before they could shoot me. That counts for a lot in my book." Loco's gaze met hers in the rearview mirror. His lips turned up.
"The least I could do for a fellow soldier." She shrugged, a hint of a smile on her lips.
"Marine." The guys corrected in unison with a chuckle.
Chapter 18
Night stalked into the neighborhood bar, his scuffed and worn boots making not a sound as he stepped from the doorway up to the serving bar despite wet soles from the many puddles outside. He turned to face the room, a habit he couldn't quite leave behind from his years of military training. The deep red windbreaker splotched with rain easily covered his concealed handgun while a knife rested in a sheath around his lower leg. He glanced over the room, sizing up each man and their level of intoxication.
Few patrons inhabited the bar at that time, just after opening. Most of the crowd presumably would show up a bit later, after work and perhaps a bit of time at home to clean up.
He picked out his target easily and immediately, the black hair, so like his own stood out amongst a crowd of men with lighter locks. Although the older man kept his cut short, the blue hue caught in the dim light as the man sat nursing a small glass full of dark liquid at the end of the same bar.
"What will it be?" The gray-headed bartender inquired, tossing a towel over his shoulder.
"Nothing yet." Night didn't bother to look at the barkeep, instead stared at the man who stood responsible for so many of the bad things in his life, up to and including the events of the last few days.
Night strode closer, fighting down the growing rage held for this man. His father. In all honesty, he never remembered the man or being struck by him, but his mother's expression when she spoke of the incident told him more than enough. To this day, she still feared him, an innate terror created by years of threats and abuse. How she pulled together enough strength and courage to leave in the first place, he would never know. He thanked the powers that be every day that she did. The alternative would have been a violent death at the hands of her husband way before her time.
He fingered the solid gold nugget in his pocket, an heirloom passed down generation to generation from mother to daughter and father to son after being found in the Black Hills centuries before. He marveled once more at its smooth texture. His great, great grandfather fashioned the chain attached to the rock, transforming it from a simple chunk of precious metal to a piece of priceless jewelry.
For years he'd dreamed of this moment, practiced what he would say to the man who'd caused so much pain and havoc in his and his mother's lives. Then he'd realized how much time he'd spent planning and plotting, giving energy and power to a man he wished to never know and promised himself he would rise above, becoming a much better man than the one that sired him. He'd done just that and more, thanks to his mother showing him the unlimited potential he carried, challenging him to step up and be the man he dreamed of being, molding him into a better man.
Summer. After this final stop, he planned on rushing home to her, holding her tight in his arms, and telling her how he felt about her. His mind replayed her smiling face, the warm affection, and sheer inner strength she carried. He missed her and couldn't wait to see her once more.
Get this unsavory task over with and I can see her again.
> Sliding on the bar stool next to his father, Night took a deep breath. "Whatcha drinking?"
"Whiskey," his father answered flatly, staring straight ahead as if living in his own world.
"How many have you had?" If the man already leaned toward intoxicated, confronting him at this time might prove an absolute waste of time. That was why he arrived early, hoping to catch him in some semblance of sober.
"Not enough." His father turned to pin him with his deep blue eyes. Eyes that matched his. "What business is it of yours?" His gaze flicked from the bar to Night's face, narrowing in concentration. "Do I know you?"
"You should but you don't. Mother and I left you twenty-eight years ago."
The older man's eyes widened as he sucked in a breath. "My son. Could it really be?"
"I may be your biological child, but nothing you've ever done makes you my father." Years of resentment broke through. "You did nothing but drink and abuse mother and me. Hell, you didn't even bother to try to find us, support us, or face up to your obligations. You're not my father, just another man who refused to stand up to his responsibility."
His father flinched but remained mute, not bothering to explain or counter the accusations.
Night reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out the gold nugget necklace. Resting his hand on the bar in between them, he slowly opened his fingers, watching his father's face intently for a reaction. It took several moments before stunned shock registered on the older man's face.
"Where'd you get that?" The low words panted out between excited, nearly agitated breaths.
"That's not important. A few days ago you blabbed to a hardened criminal, a man in hock to the drug cartels about this very necklace. Not only did you tell him it existed, but how much it should be worth, the name of its owner, and where to find it. He showed up at the house, broke in, and took a woman hostage in order to get his hands on this." Night bit off each word, struggling once more with the fury the event incited.
"I didn't. I couldn't…" The man shook his head, his hand on the whiskey glass trembled. He paused as if trying to sort out a puzzle in his head.
"You did. Drunk up to your gills, you sat at this very bar, and spewed all kinds of stuff to the wrong man. The man who prodded you for answers got everything he needed out of you. It's a miracle the women are still alive considering the guy's past and his desperation."
A flicker of remorse flashed across the man's features before he took a big swallow of the amber liquid. "But nothing happened?"
Night clenched his fist, shoving the gold back into his pocket, concealing it from any prying eyes. Anger raced through his blood at the apathy from his own father. "I guess you didn't hear me. He broke into the house, threatened mother, and kidnapped another woman, nearly raping her before she was rescued. I would call that considerably more than nothing."
"They caught the guy. So, it's over." He swished the whiskey in his glass before emptying the contents into his mouth.
Night stood up, looking down at his father. He expected concern perhaps regret and remorse, an apology or questions about the health and well being of his mother. Instead, he received barely any reaction at all. As if the man truly didn't care what happened to his ex-wife and child. Maybe he blamed them for the lot in life he created for himself? That might explain his nonchalant attitude. But to literally wipe them from his life and not care if they ended up brutally murdered in their own house? That smacked of deep down hate or abject selfishness, unlike anything he had ever seen. How his mother could love this man, he would never understand. Time must have changed him greatly because this empty shell didn't qualify as human in his opinion.
As a boy, he'd bounced between hating his father and wishing he would return, become a part of his life, admit his mistake and become the father of his dreams. Now, as he stood there, those old feelings welled up, cementing once and for all that the dream relationship proved to be an illusion all along. It took a strong, caring man to push past his struggles in order to place his family at the top of his priority list. The man he looked at didn't possess the courage necessary.
Grinding his teeth, Night glared. "You gave him the information, making you just as responsible for the break in and whatever other consequences followed."
His father blinked, his jaw tightening. "I didn't do anything wrong. You won't be pinning some piddly crime on me. I didn't steal nothin'."
Leaning in, Night got right in the man's face. "You're an accomplice. Running at the mouth, even when drunk, makes you liable for what happens. This is your one warning. If anything ever happens again, I will hold you personally responsible." Standing up, he refused to release the other man's gaze. "Next time, I'll hunt you down and hold you accountable."
"Who in the hell are you to threaten me? I'll kick your arrogant ass for daring to speak to me like that. I didn't do nothin', you bastard!" He stood on not quite steady legs, taking an extra moment to gain his balance. "Here. Now. I'll teach you. No one talks to me like that!"
"I just did." Night lifted his chin, throwing out a challenge. He might have been a scared three year old the last time he felt his father's fists but he was a fully grown man now, one who could take on an abuser and a child beater and win easily.
"Gentlemen. Take it outside," the bartender ordered, his gruff voice matched the frown on his face. "That or I call the cops right now."
His father glared at the man before sitting back down. "Give me another whiskey."
Night leaned in to whisper in the old man's ear. "I have the ability and free rein to take justice into my own hands whenever and wherever I see fit. Anything and anyone that threatens my family will find their way to Hell…eventually."
That said he spun on his heel, long strides leading toward the front door of the bar. He glanced back once to see the man just as he found him, sucking down yet another drink as if nothing ever happened. With a shake of his head at the sheer waste of life, he stepped back out into the wet night.
Chapter 19
Night paused as he rounded the house, catching a sight that took his breath away. Summer sat astride the tall gray gelding, balancing easily as he trotted toward the barn with the other two horses in tow. Without saddle or bridle, she simply held onto the mane, directing him with her legs while her long blonde hair fluttered behind her in the breeze. Bright sunlight of late afternoon glistened over her crown, lightening the color of her hair and giving her an angelic hue. Simply beautiful. He couldn't take his gaze off her until she disappeared behind the barn.
Knowing she would tarry there a while to care for the horses, he sauntered that way, ignoring his body's response to watching the woman he loved. He wanted to take the relationship one step at a time, not rushing until they were both ready. As it was, he'd probably pushed the limits with his declaration of love. Telling her of those feelings seemed right at the time. Not once had he wished them back, especially since she shared them.
"Summer?" he called out, not wanting to startle her or the horses with his sudden appearance. Sticking his head in the door, he spied her pouring out rations of grain into buckets, the three big horses stamping their feet with impatience as they stood behind a small gate. Their ears pricked forward, watching Summer intently, as if she might drop a single morsel of corn.
"In here." She hefted one bucket, carrying it into a stall before returning for another.
Night hurried forward, grabbing the final bucket and setting it into the corner holder so Summer could open the gate and let the horses in to enjoy their dinner.
She smiled widely at him, threw open the barricade, then rushed into his arms, holding on tight. "Night. I missed you! Are you okay?" Drawing back, she looked him over.
He grinned, soaking up her rapt attention. "I'm fine. How are you doing?" He leveled his gaze, meeting her eyes, watching for any hint of hedging of the truth on her part.
"I'm fine. Really. Murphy is a great companion, even chases the bad dreams away with her loud snoring."
Leani
ng in, he meshed his lips with hers, joy flashing through him at her eager reception. Not only did she accept the kiss, but she returned it eagerly, taking the initiative to open her mouth and deepen the embrace. "Lord, I missed you," he whispered when they parted out of a need for air.
"Did you see your mother already?"
He wrapped her in his arms, holding her snug, watching her brown eyes sparkle with happiness. "Yes. I got home late last night and spent all day with her. I know I should have called, but I wanted to surprise you." He placed a kiss to her forehead, allowing her enough wiggle room to position her hands on his shoulders.
"I see. You wanted to catch me naked in the shower, huh?" she teased, her fingers picking at his T-shirt.
Glancing down at her jeans and short-sleeved shirt, he pictured that very image in his mind. He smiled a little. "If only I could be so lucky."
She snorted. "I swear. Men and sex."
"Every six seconds, little one."
"Yeah, yeah. So, I take it the mission went well?"
Her change of subject put the tension back into his shoulders.
Interacting with his father after so many years upset him more than he'd anticipated, sending his insides to churning with anger, fear, and pity. He knew enough about alcoholism to understand a hereditary link existed and domestic violence tended to run in families. While he remained furious at the pain his father lashed onto his little family and could pity the man who spent every night drinking his life away, the notion that he could step right into those shoes shook him to his very core.
* * * *
Her brows furrowed together as she scanned his face, sensing something bothered him, something he probably didn't really want to discuss. However, pent up worries and anger festered like an abscess. If you didn't lance them, open them up for all the foul smelling gunk to leak out, then it only spread and worsened.
Summer's Night Page 10
